#and for weeks afterwards on twitter people were just being so horrible about her

[butchvamp]

really disliking this new corporate strategy of using trans people as marketing (hersheys and now bud light(?????)) where these massive billion dollar brands just expose trans women to the most vile harassment possible while they get to profit off their image and pretend to be progressive. like wow cool you put trans women on your chocolate bar and your beer cans but are you like, doing anything for them and the wider community or are you just parading them around...lol. also it really frustrates me that people will eat this shit up. brands targeting the lgbt community as a marketing demographic is not a good thing, actually. it should piss you off that target sells tshirts with the word queer on it. it should piss you off that hersheys "we use child slave labor" chocolate is trying to target you specifically with their advertisements

[newronantic]

HAIKYUU!! FICS

so this is mostly gonna be for myself to keep track of my favorite fics i’ve read, but hey if anyone else wants to check some of these out then thats great

MHA one is up!!

ill keep updating this as i read more, feel free to send me suggestions!

KageHina

plain as day - emleewrites

In which Hinata has spent the better part of the last twenty years putting his heart and soul into volleyball, hoping to be recognised, to be noticed. And yet he spends all these years also thinking of himself as rather plain, beyond his lack of height and bright hair, and not really noticeable at all.

In Transit - Mysecretfanmoments

Hinata finds that he likes standing close to Kageyama on buses and trains. It doesn't mean anything--probably. Maybe.

I like the way your clothes smell - Mysecretfanmoments

Power outages, ghost stories, and the presence of a certain orange-haired boy lead to bad decision-making on Tobio's part. He'd planned to keep his crush a secret; the universe has other plans.

Chaotic Neutral - akaraka

Who's this Kageyama person on twitter and is he gay?

1: Anonymous: see title

2: Anonymous: curry king

3: Anonymous >> 1: It's the curry king, obviously. Have you been using his memes this whole time without knowing who he was?

4: Anonymous: 1) Hinata Shouyou's boyfriend 2) See above

jellyfish - mysterytwin

At the beginning of his last year at Karasuno High School, Hinata Shouyou starts a list and calls it THINGS TO DO BEFORE GRADUATION, all with high hopes that he’ll be able to complete it before his time runs out.

TsukkiYama

Try This On For Size - CloudMonsta

A lot changed for Yamaguchi Tadashi over the course of high school. He started trying on dresses, for one.

The Great Yamaguchi-Tsukishima Split (Capitalization Necessary) - WyYeuw

"But no, the current situation isn’t normal. This situation requires the full attention of the team.

No, what’s really concerning this time around, is that Yamaguchi is the one ignoring Tsukishima.”

Yamaguchi confesses. Tsukishima fucks up—like, really fucks up. The volleyball club notices and loses a week’s worth of practice.

IwaOi

Terrarium - sausaged

He's practically a professional at being proactive (lies, lies, and lies when it comes to Iwaizumi).

At this point, is he really happy with just staying best friends forever? Will he be writing journals and collecting rocks forever (he will, he knows, but that is aside from the point)?

Can he really tag his Instagram photos with #YOLO if he doesn't actually put that phrase into practice?

A story about Oikawa Tooru, Iwaizumi Hajime, plants, and rocks.

They Say it Rain Diamonds on Jupiter - exsao

"You're in love with him."

Hajime considers denying it. He considers deliberately choking on his drink to express surprise, to create a distraction by spitting onto the man in front of him's pristine white shirt and causing a commotion. Instead, he swallows his mouthful of soda and heaves a small sigh once his mouth is free.

"Yeah," he says instead.

He's never been good at lying, anyway.

bait and switch - Stylographic_Blue_Rhapsody

Oikawa's university volleyball team knows he's in a long-distance relationship with someone from high school. They imagine a sweet-faced girl that matches his sarcasm with patience. They are so incredibly wrong.

my heart is where it’s always been - foreverautumn

Iwaizumi places his phone down carefully.

Oikawa. Pining after someone. There’s no way.

(Iwaizumi knows he shouldn’t care who Oikawa might have feelings for, but within the span of three days, it’s somehow the only thing he can think about.)

KuroKen

Beautiful People Will Ruin Your Life - todxrxki

Kuroo Tetsurou runs a private Twitter account where he's constantly tweeting about how desperately in love he is with Kozume Kenma. Little does he know that Kenma sees all the tweets and keeps referencing the account in an attempt to get Kuroo to confess to him. / Or, five times Kuroo didn't notice Kenma hinting about his private Twitter account, and one time he finally did.

the things that get caught in the valves of his heart - ghostpot

Emotional competency is not exactly Kuroo's strong suit. Kenma finds it quite amusing.

Accidentally In Love - todxrxki

Kuroo frowns, but then slowly, the corners of his mouth lift up into a smirk. "Well, if it's so unbelievable, why don't we give it a try?"

Kenma glances up at him curiously. "What do you mean?"

"Let's do the 36 questions to fall in love," Kuroo says, still smirking stupidly. "If we don't fall in love, then you're right, it's bullshit. But if we do somehow..." Kuroo waggles his eyebrows. "Then I win." / Kuroo decides he and Kenma should do the 36 questions to fall in love as a joke, but they both start to realize they might actually be in love already.

the galaxy is endless (i thought we were, too) - cosmogony

TW: major character death

Kuroken AU where the last words your soulmate will say to you appear on your skin when you turn 16, and how Kenma and Kuroo learn what this means over the course of their lives

even if you’re ahead for a bit, i will catch up - ghostpot

Kuroo first confesses when they're sticky-fingered, wide-eyed kids, and subsequently every day after that. Kenma takes a while to come around.

you’re the brake lines failing (as my car swerves off the freeway) - ghostpot

Kenma thinks that Kuroo looks ugly with his head bent against the arm of the couch like that. Then Kenma thinks that he wants to marry him, and is promptly thrown into the 5 stages of grief.

teach me the way home - icespyders

“Don’t go far off, not even for a day, because —

because — I don’t know how to say it: a day is long

and I will be waiting for you, as in an empty station

when the trains are parked off somewhere else, asleep.”

Kuroo and Kenma grow up in transit.

in this universe - crossbelladonna

Living with Kuroo is sometimes, just like this. It always feels surreal like he's living half a world and a lot of things rush by too quickly. Kenma feels like he'd watched him come and go in a blink, eyes wide and wordless as the shared space went snug in an instant and far larger in the next.

All this, and a glass of water.

Beginning’s End - todxrxki

Somehow over the course of Kenma's lifetime, he’s never really had an opportunity to miss Kuroo. He’s always been there. Even when they went to different schools, Kuroo would meet him afterwards so they could walk home together, shoulders brushing, Kuroo occasionally taking the opportunity to guide him when his nose was buried in the newest video game. The thought of Kuroo not being there anymore is uncomfortable, to say the least. / Kozume Kenma's third year and the changes the year brings in himself and his relationship with Kuroo Tetsurou.

All I Want for Christmas is You - todxrxki

“Kuro,” he says. “You’re a single guy.”

“Yeah, great, thanks for pointing that out.”

“And my parents already know you, plus they already know you like guys or whatever so… what if you pretended to be my date for Christmas dinner?” / In which Kenma recruits his housemate and best friend Kuroo to be his fake date for Christmas.

BokuAka

just to miss the sun - rosevtea

Everything begins to implode when MSBY Jackals outside hitter Bokuto Koutarou crashes Akaashi's livestream.

Operation BokuAka - kazzydolyn

After spending two whole years watching Bokuto and Akaashi pine for one another, the rest of the Fukuroudani Volleyball Club has had enough. When everyone meets up for a reunion dinner, the team decides to play matchmaker and finally get the two of them together. Unfortunately, their plan starts to fall apart when they discover that Akaashi is already dating someone. And apparently so is Bokuto. What a strange coincidence.

bitter - silvercistern

He accepted his classmate's chocolates gracefully, then declared his lack of interest with as much dignity as he could muster. She deserved the courtesy. At least she'd acknowledged that Valentine's Day was all about her, and not about him in the slightest.

Because if any of these girls had taken the time to actually get to know him, they’d quickly realize something even more important than his lack of interest in girls.

And that was that Akaashi hated sweets.

In Another Life - LittleLuxray

TW: major character death

Sleeping didn't come as easy as it used to. Bokuto knew this, and now Akaashi did, too.

The hospital AU that no body asked for, but that I took upon myself to write.

120% yes - pissedofsandwich

TOKYO FRANCHISE COMING SOON @OnigiriMiya

in reply to @bokkun_official 

Congratulations! In celebration of your historic engagement, please DM us so we can send you a free membership code with a 25% discount on every fourth purchase!

Kissing Ace - karasunovolleygays

It happens right after training camp.

Akaashi Keiji has a secret he has guarded since he was a child. He won’t go so far as to call it a fear, but more of an aspect of himself of which he is horribly mortified. No one on the team knows about it, and Akaashi does his best to keep it that way.

But years of dodging hugs and casual contact come to naught in the blink of an eye and the swipe of a hand.

daisy rings and frivolous things (i am deliriously in love with you) - gabstar

Akaashi Keiji is in love. Bokuto Koutarou is a star. Everyone on Fukurodani has a gambling problem.

SakuAtsu

The MSBY Black Jackals Read Thirst Tweets - isaksara (syailendra)

Sakusa’s eyes are very dark naturally, sucking in all surrounding rays of light and crushing them in his pupils. For an athlete, he is rather pale. His lips look very pink in comparison. Atsumu is suddenly catastrophically aware that in this instance, ‘accent’ is a euphemism. “Good enough for your Olympic-size ego, Miya?”

(In which Atsumu realizes that he is attracted to Sakusa Kiyoomi in the most inconvenient way possible.)

A Liar’s Truth - internetpistol

In which Sakusa Kiyoomi is raised to believe that gay people go to hell but then takes one look at Miya Atsumu and thinks, then why the hell did God make them so fucking hot?

[loquaciousquark]

Talks Machina Highlights - Critical Role C2E125 (Feb. 16, 2021)

Goooood evening good evening good evening, all! I hope you’re all staying warm and safe and dry in this chilly weather. Tonight’s guests: Travis Willingham and Laura Bailey. 

We open tonight with Travis ribbing Brian for his continuous remodel of his office space. Laura demands a second introduction of herself as she wasn’t paying attention during the first one.

Travis: “You’ve gotta love Julianne Moore. She’s the only actress who can cry and show you all her teeth at the same time.” I was listening pretty closely when he said this and I’m still not sure it had any context. 

Jester thinks there’s a strong possibility at least half the party will die against the Tombtakers. Fjord doesn’t think the odds are quite that high, but it will be dangerous. Laura points out that most of the M9 are also willing to sacrifice themselves for the rest of the party, so that changes their odds as well. Travis: “The game is not a stress reliever. It is not a stress reliever. I mean, it’s fun as shit, but it is stressful!”

Laura thinks Essek will give them a better chance. Travis: “A plus-one? A powerful plus-one, but a plus-one?” Did you see his reaction when we gave him the lowdown? Let’s be real: we kinda trust Essek. I got $50 that when we come back, he’s gone.” Laura is convinced he is trustworthy & wants to lighten his soul.

Jester spent so much time trying to bring out the Molly side of Lucien that to have him then betray them sucked. She knew that trying to bring the good out of everyone they met would eventually fail, but it stung that it was the most powerful one they encountered to first betray them.

She tries to talk about finger gestures during the answer as a reference to the HBO show “Raised by Wolves,” and Brian and Travis tell her to keep digging this hole she gets herself into about fingering. Travis: “Just get off the interstate at the next exit and turn right.” Laura, of course, immediately mimes turning a hard left, and they spent the next few minutes laughing at her inability to tell right from left and that even now she still has to hold up her hands to tell left from right.

Fjord is furious that they nicked the Bag of Holding. The loss of Vess DeRogna is bad enough, but he is genuinely IRL anxious about the loss of the Cloven Crystal. Laura points out that Fjord has also explicitly talked to Lucien about the deep sea creature patron he used to follow as well. He’s terrified one of Lucien’s scimitars is suddenly going to have a big eye sticking out of it. Laura suggests they’ll just succeed, bring back the city, and wake up Uk’otoa for the heck of it.

It was really rough to go from the Gelidon fight to the Tombtaker fight, especially since the first fight sent so well. Travis felt great that he initiated the dragon fight - he knew they had a far advantage in the numbers and felt that it was an open and shut case.

Laura does boggle that if Caleb hadn’t asked for that item from the Bag of Holding, they might have slept all night before realizing it was gone. They’re both relieved that they now know so much more about how the Tombtakers fight, especially the anti-magic cone. The most anxiety-ridden part was when they were trying to run and the TTs weren’t letting them. “You know when you don’t even have squares, when Matt’s black-tableclothing it, you’re in deep shit.” Laura had no spells left - she was so worried if she dropped the polymorph she would have had nothing left.

Travis: “Thanks for healing me, babe.” Laura: “You’re welcome, baby. It was ultimately a waste, though, because we took a rest immediately and you could just spend your hit dice.” Everyone laughs at Travis’s pain. She does say it was worth it in the moment since they didn’t know if they would be able to get away.

They joke that Laura’s just wearing the Fire Resist ring on a chain around her neck/Sprinkle is wearing it now to keep it safe since she’s not attuned to it anymore. It’s pretty hilarious!

Travis hoped that the TTs were originally actively looking for more acolytes rather than just having Caleb & Beau read the book. Otis needs to die. He’s relieved they have an idea of what all their blood rites do. Laura thought the time with them was fun, but it makes her retroactively wish that she’d dropped Zoran in the lava when they had the chance. Travis wishes they’d put a chime on the door of the tower.

Laura loved the tarot card reading, since Taliesin sent her really detailed breakdowns of the cards & gave her a real deck for Christmas. Taliesin told her she did a great job afterwards which she really appreciated, since she’s not sure what she’s doing. She does wish that she knew why Lucien seemed so nervous when she was talking about rebirth.

Cosplay of the Week! @clever_comics on twitter with a lovely Veth in her snowy lavender-colored outfit and pigtails.

Travis on confessing to Jester: “It FUCKING made me crazy!” He’s never been an instigator of campaign romances in the past, but because he loves Laura and was able to connect to her on that level he felt like it was a good challenge instead. He doesn’t think he could have done it with someone he wasn’t comfortable with. It was also important to him for it to be founded on real-game moments and after real-game time had passed, and he felt it was a very natural progression. Seeing the statues rip five years from her in such a benign situation made him realize that to let the opportunity pass wouldn’t have been worth it. He wishes he’d told Vandran what he meant to Fjord as well.

Laura loves that Fjord is becoming more confident as well. The post-Gelidon smooch took Laura completely by surprise since she’s finding Jester is a little surprisingly awkward with IRL affection, and she was surprised Fjord was the confident one there. “It’s so wonderful. It’s a matter of finding a way to get comfortable with it with her away from the Tombtakers.” Travis thought it was important to continue the “go for it” mantra. He notes that he’s pretty private about his personal life IRL, so it’s been a bit of a shift. It’s slower in a way - not a “you’re my one true love” kind of thing, more of a “let’s see where this goes and act on what you can” thing.

They were all “poopin’ in their pants” to get to go to Emon. The worst part was not getting to explore outside the tower since they had to leave again immediately. Kima is so cool, and Travis was actively trying to get Kima to come with them. Everyone boggles that they got to borrow Allura’s staff.

Laura only was thinking about the item-tuned-to-the-target-plane because she’d been texting with Liam trying to iron out their spell choices. She’s so relieved that they were able to get something tuned to the Sea from Allura.

For the most part, Laura knows what spells are the most useful for Jester, but every now and then she does get caught by major component requirements that she hadn’t noted. She wants to get another chalice for Hero’s Feast before they go into the Sea.

Dani points out that a lot of their allies right now are mages (no Kashaws, no Kimas, no Grogs) and they’re heading to a bad place for mages.

Travis has a sudden brain wave about all the TTs being from the Claret Order and wonders if they should investigate that before they pursue. I don’t even remember what that order is and I feel terrible!

Fanart of the Week! It’s a beautiful card by @crovyne on twitter of the Cree counterspell.

Laura really wants Brian to shave the sides of his hair and do Viking braids in the rest. I didn’t want to say anything out loud, but Brian’s hair is really looking pretty...pandemicky.

This is Dani’s four-year-anniversary of her start for Critical Role! Awww, Dani! You’re so short in real life.

Fjord is stoked that the Star Razor is a Vestige, and more now that he knows in-character what that means. It was great to see Allura react the way she did.

Jester doesn’t think they can really go to Nicodranas - they don’t have anymore time. Even more, Jester’s avoiding going home because she doesn’t want the Ruby to see that she got aged up/hurt on her travels.

Travis honestly assumes that the TTs are spying on them 100% of the time now.

Does Jester feel better now that the crest is away from Lucien? Yes, even though it’s gone off course. She thought dropping the crest where they were was a HORRIBLE idea and was appalled so many people were suggesting it. She saw the city with her own eyes, knows the danger of what’s coming, and if they had dropped it in flight she would have dropped with it and defended it as long as she could if that’s what would have kept them from getting it.

Travis thinks that if they can negotiate with Lucien, they should try. Everyone is super worried about Caleb’s and Beau’s new eyes and are fully anticipating they’re on a clock at this point. They wonder if it’ll drive up their exhaustion, allow Lucien to force them to fight against them, maybe make them willing slaves to the mysterious voice...they need to solve it sooner rather than later. 

And that’s all for tonight! New episode this Thursday - usual time, usual place. Stay warm, friends, and is it Thursday yet?

[oddlyhale]

As much as I begin to see the horrors of RWBY fndm and how crazed BB fans can be, there'll probably be no comparison to the psychotics I had to deal with in the HH fndm.

While I can totally find myself being tolerant with all RWBY ships, there's something territorial when it comes to HH ships. It's a different beast on its own, especially with the popular artists that can and will control their fanbase.

Boy do I have a tale of 2020 that had me deal with the mental gymnastics these wild shippers put me through. The sheer hypocrisy, the fear fans had of standing up to them, the collective harassment.

In a synopsis, before we start:

Hi, my name is Hale.

Alfa and Alex are probably the most psychotic people I’ve ever met when it comes to my online daily life. I used to think my ex-friends were the bane of my existence, but Alfa and Alex started making me think just how angelic my exes were in comparison.

So let’s begin.

When I first met the Double AAs, it was Alex first (awhile back in late-June 2020 during Vaggie Week) but it was indirect. I was on my Instagram when I was tagged by a random user in something Alex had drawn. This was when I first saw the kill art of Vaggie. I was so upset that I had yelled at this random user for tagging me, as well as showing it via screencap on my twitter, as a warning to never do this to me to my followers. Keep in mind, I had censored Alex’s name from the screencap, not the random user.

However, Alex saw this somehow and became hysterical, thinking I was targeting him for what he drew. This caused an uproar of his fans to come attack me, and it did cause me to become scared and get away from my account. Alfa decided to insert herself into the mix, but I didn’t care enough for her to say anything. It was mostly Alex and how much he was “scared” and cried about the “fandom being so hateful and scary.” He went private for a while I believe, but Alfa was still going hard at me and sending more of her fans to come harass me.

If Alex ever says he is a strong and brave man, don’t believe him. He fears the HH fandom.

Anyhow, after Alfa’s fans had done their best to gaslight me, I didn’t give in. In fact, I made amends with the random user that tagged me. Somehow they assumed I would like the art of Vaggie being killed, which was childish to even believe in. Nonetheless, I forgave them, and we moved on from there.

But even when we both resolved this together, Alfa and Alex decided that it would be fun to make this “kill Vaggie art” a meme, or trend. With their huge followings combined, they were able to get their artist fans to join in and start creating so much hate art of Vaggie. Many of them drew her head being cut off, mutilated, raped and cheated on.

Alfa and Alex adore gaslighting the hell out of people. While they draw such hideous things, they will go ahead and say, “but it’s just fiction, it’s not real,” and call you psychotic for even caring so much about their bad behaviour. I can only imagine what Alfa’s husband goes through everyday since Alfa loves to make people second-guess themselves often.

Keep in mind, Alfa and Alex are the same people who will cry and shake when their fictional ship is invalidated and written out. They often wish nothing good for Viv and her team that are providing these ungrateful children with the show and content they so badly want. It shows you just how privileged they had grown up as children, doesn’t it?

This wasn’t fun, it was horrible. I didn’t realize just how many toxic people existed in the HH fandom until this “trend” began to spread.

But the funny thing that I'll never forget is how apeshit Alfa went when I had the audacity to draw Alastor plus sized. She accused me of being a pedophile, supporting MAPs. Even though she leans towards being pro-ship (likes incest, OK with lolicon, will condone drawing necophilia.) But me? Having the sheer audacity of drawing Alastor fat? It burned her so bad.

As well, this was being pushed on the VAs during a small livestream. The chat wouldn’t stop asking, “what do you think of the Vaggie kill art going around?” Of course the VAs ignored these questions, but it was really rude to even ask these things. Especially when Vaggie’s VA was in the same livestream.

But then this trend was proven to be a lie, by Alex’s own words. He dropped the ball in a one-off conversation with an anti that “he only created this to get back at the Chaggie shippers.” So retroactively, this trend was worthless.

What also began to start becoming obvious was that Alfa was too afraid to do anything on her own, and thus, she will recruit some darlings to defend her. Alfa seems to have more defenders than she has any confidence to defend herself, and when she has no choice but to stand up for herself, she will buckle and hide. She is weak, is what I had learnt.

I decided to just ignore Alex and Alfa as much as I could. With a friend though, I was given updates of what was happening on the Double AAs’ side in the meantime, and it’s amazing to see just how vile they can be with their own fans and haters. Especially with their new puppy named Salty. (I think that’s their name, another weak ass bitch.)

As months went by, the major event that stirred from the AA camp was when they were harassing Pastel Sky. This would be where the big reveal of just how horrible the AAs and their friends truly are, when they have nobody to harass except for kids. HH has a wide audience of children involved in this fandom, hence why many other artists keep saying we should try to be good examples for them, and keep them safe. But not for the AAs.

Pastel was ruthlessly attacked by them and it was all unwarranted. What they were angry about was that Pastel had the nerve to have negative opinions when it came to AAs, and they broke their own rule of “don’t like then block.” Even Galactic Potatoes (Spuds) would go out of their way, again, to gaslight Pastel into believing that what attacks she received on Twitter was allowed, because Pastel was asking for it. Spuds is well-known to gaslight, a thing they had learnt from the AAs quite often.

Pastel was a minor at the time, and it really doesn’t matter if Pastel was just 17. I don’t care if Pastel was only 17 and that “well she’s almost 18,” because regardless of age, harassment is not the answer. Follow by that, fighting with minors is actually fucking stupid and braindead. Spuds tried very hard to justify why attacks were OK, and that Pastel “should learn” how to grow up. I then learnt that Spuds went into hiding afterwards.

That was until the Double AAs’ discord chats were exposed, showing that they were practically mouth-watering at Pastel’s pain, romanticizing her apparent abuse and trying to convince each other how her punishment on Twitter was correct. Even one (I believe was Jay because he loves me and wants me back) wished that I would die. This would be the third time he asked me to die indirectly, which justifies my points on how toxic and abusive they are.

This entire event seemed to have unraveled a new wave of truths, and it’s sad to know it had to take a literal minor to have their masks fall off.

In 2021, Alex was exposed to be a thief. Stealing commission money for “stress pills.” If Alex is on a path of drug addiction, I hope it’s not the case. That’s a terrible place to be, and hopefully he’ll be clean and grow up for once. I still don’t care enough about Alfa, after now knowing all she is, is just a dramatic housewife with nothing better to do in her life. Perhaps if they just got jobs instead of stealing money from fans, they’d be leading well-productive lives.

From what I understand, many of the toxic fans of the Double AAs have either dropped HH fandom, or have deleted their accounts. Good, I hope they stay gone. The fandom deserves better, not trash.

Needless to say, the best advice I can give to those in the HH fandom that come facing the Double AAs is to not be afraid of them.

Over time, once you get used to their behaviour, you come to realize that this is their default. They’re not likable, they’re not nice, and they aren’t appreciative of one singular thing you do for them (hence Alex stealing from his own fans.)

It’s their M.O., they are just that cruel. So don’t fear them, but challenge their behaviour. Don’t stoop to their level of wanting to draw hateful art, though, that will fuel them. Talking down to them like their idiots always works like a charm.

Anyways, thanks for reading.

If anybody from the Double AAs’ camp ever finds this and reads it, I just wanna say that you are doing a great job, sweety. Thanks for proving me right by the new year. I appreciate the honesty for once. It only took you a year, just think of what other things you’ll do in the next year.

[illfoandillfie]

5 Simple Rules For A Successful Fake Relationship: The Perfect Date

5 SIMPLE RULES MASTERLIST

Pairing: Ben Hardy x Reader

Summery: There's trouble in paradise for you and Ben but will the distance bring about some revelations? And what does it mean for your romantic reunion?

Warnings: The usual fairly innocent stuff, some swearing and drinking and mentions of smoking, but with the additions of PDAs out the wazoo, public make out, private make out.

Words: 8093

A/N: Things get a lil spicy in this one! Small disclaimer that I don’t drink so I have no idea what wine does to someone, or two someones who split a bottle. Also just another reminder that this was in no way inspired by rumours regarding Ben’s rl relationship with Olivia Cooke. I believe they’re legit, and I will not engage with anyone about that topic. 

Taglist:  @laedymoon  @dtfrogertaylor  @vee-ndetta @atomic-watermelon @kellypenac @labessieisallama @deakyclicks @jennyggggrrr @drowseoftaylor  @hannafuckingsucks  @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming @queenmylovely @supersonicfreddie @tenement-funstah

@coni-martina @johndeaconshands @hardforbenhardy @cubedtriangle​ @vicouscirce​ @arianabrashierstuff​

You headed straight to the bathroom and threw up. Ben had called twice on your way home, but you’d let it go to voicemail, not ready to hear him admonish you for eavesdropping on him or to be asked if you felt the same. You supposed it was adrenaline or something that was making you feel nauseous. Of course, you’d have to talk to him eventually, at least to apologise for going so off book, but it could wait until you weren’t feeling so miserable. With teary eyes, you made your way to the kitchen, grabbed a drink to help settle your stomach, and then flopped onto the couch to flick through TV channels until you found something distracting enough. Your phone rang again but when you glanced at the screen it wasn’t Ben’s name you saw. “Mary?” If she heard any evidence of your distress in your voice she didn’t mention it, “Brilliant performance Y/N. The video was tweeted out about ten minutes after you left the restaurant and it’s already been shared more than you’d believe.” “Oh, that’s good.” “Better than good. People are eating it up. There’ll be articles tomorrow predicting your breakup and not just the ones we’ve organised. We’re going to ask that you and Ben refrain from seeing each other in public for the next two weeks or so, make it look like you’re taking some time apart. That’ll give the video plenty of time to circulate and allow us to get out a few variations of the trouble in paradise story. Of course, you’re free to visit each other and speak over the phone but be wary in case other paparazzi start following you in addition to the one’s we’ve hired. Chances are more people will be looking to scoop the official breakup story if all goes as well as these early numbers indicate it will. Then we’ll hit them with the romantic makeup dinner at Boucher. And after that it’s back to playing the happy couple. Of course there’ll be the press junket and premiere in a couple of months’ time and then we can break you up for good.” She kept talking about plans for he press tour, something about flights and hotels, but you stopped paying attention, already getting twitter open and searching for the video. It didn’t take long to find it, the caption proclaiming he who’d caught the footage had noticed you and Ben arrive and had pulled out his camera as soon as he realised things weren’t particularly happy. “Sorry, Mary, I’m gonna have to call you back.” “Everything alright?” “Yeah, just a small mishap with the washing machine. I’ll talk to you later.” As soon as she was gone you pressed play on the video. Filmed from a table to the left of yours and slightly behind your shoulder, the phone tipped at an angle so it wouldn’t be spotted. Your heart pounded as you watched. It was all there, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife as Ben tried to draw you into conversation. You heard the bite in your tone, the confusion in his. And you saw what you’d not noticed in the moment. The way his face fell when you said it was too much. The way his nails dug into his palm as he clutched his fork so tightly. The hurt on his face when you called him clingy and needy. He stood up as you walked away but he didn’t follow, just dragged his hand through his hair and then sat down heavily, worrying at his thumbnail with his teeth. The waiter came over, presumably with the bill but the video cut out before anything more was said. They’d got what they wanted. They didn’t need the aftermath.

The next day there was an unexpected knock on your door. You put down your phone where you were watching the video again and peeked out the window, worried that it was Ben come to confront you. Instead you saw Felicity raise her fist and knock again. “I saw the video,” was the first thing she said when you let her in, “are you okay?” “I wish people would stop asking me that. I’m fine.” “You had a straight up cat fight in the middle of a restaurant, and there are paparazzi practically camping in your front yard, you’re not fine.” “Okay, maybe not fine fine. But it’s whatever. How many are out there?” “Three. But what happened? Last week you told me you weren’t going to break up.” “We haven’t broken up.” “Well then what was that?” “I don’t know. It’s been building for a bit I guess. He’s just more serious about it all than I am.” “So I heard. Are you sure you aren’t just panicking?” “Panicking about what?” “Well, y’know, you’ve been in the tabloids a bit lately. That must put a strain on things. Maybe you just got a little freaked out by it and pushed Ben away rather than let yourself be vulnerable,” “What are you my shrink?” “Hey, I’m just trying to help.” “Yeah well, you’re wrong. The paps are kind of annoying but they aren’t the problem. The problem…” you took a breath as you considered what was safe to say, “the problem is that Ben has been on a different page to me for a while now. I think we both just need some space.” “Okay, if that’s what you want to go with,” she clearly didn’t believe you, “Have you talked to him about it?” “Not yet. Figured I’d call back sometime today when my head was clearer.” She nodded, “Well, I’m here for you. Whatever you need. Moral support when you call him or someone to bitch to afterwards or just somebody to get drunk with.” She pulled you into a hug, squeezing you tight and for a moment you felt like you might cry. All you could think about was Ben’s expression when you walked out, how wounded he looked.

Felicity stayed with you for the rest of the day which was good because her presence stopped you from doing nothing but watching the video over and over again. As it was you found it hard to keep yourself from looking at the comments people left on it. A lot of people took Ben’s side, calling you a bitch or worse, sometimes even direct messaging you their opinions. But there were also those lampooning Ben for smothering you, some going so far as to claim they were early signs of manipulative and controlling tendencies and that he deserved the public humiliation of it all. Those were the comments that made you feel worst. Being called a cunt you could deal with. Being told Ben deserved better you could easily deal with. But seeing such horrible suggestions of Ben being thrown about made your heart ache. He wasn’t mean or manipulative. He’d been nothing but kind to everyone on set and especially to you. Any lingering annoyance that hadn’t left you along with the little you’d eaten seemed to melt away, leaving you feeling cold at the thought of what you’d said. Yes he’d been stupid and selfish to agree to pretend to date you when he actually had a crush on you. But not once had he tried to wheedle a confession of love from you, not once had he pushed himself onto you. He’d always been respectful of your boundaries, warned you before he kissed you, asked if you wanted to share a blanket rather than just assume you did. Even your rules he’d mostly stuck to. The one exception being the cutesy nickname, but you’d never put up much of a fight with that. You only knew that he felt something for you because you’d listened in to a private conversation. And really, could you blame him for developing feelings? You’d literally been cast as lovers because you had good chemistry and then you’d spent weeks getting even closer, made all the more necessary by your fake romance. He was hardly the first person in history to have his on-screen feelings transfer to real life. And surely, if he’d decided to tell his friend everything, even after signing contractual documents about keeping it secret, then he must be serious about you, about how much he liked you. Maybe you had it wrong. Maybe there was something there you hadn’t consi-. “Stop wallowing,” Felicities voice cut through your thoughts, “Put the phone down and stop thinking about Ben for five minutes.” You shook your head to clear it, “I’m not wallowing.” “Are you on twitter right now?” “Maybe,” “You’re wallowing. C’mon, give me the phone.” She held out her hand, giving you had no choice but to hand it over. “Has anyone ever told you you’d make a good teacher,” “Once or twice. You can have this,” she brandished your phone at you and then shoved it into her bag, “back when you’re ready to call Ben. Until then we are getting out of the house.” “Out of the house where?” you asked, letting her pull you from your seat. “Just out. You need some fresh air. Go on, get your shoes.” “Alright, alright, I’m going,” you said, with the first genuine chuckle you’d had in days.

You ended up at the park a street over, sitting on a bench overlooking the duckpond. One or two of the photographers followed you, but they were easy to ignore. As soon as you stopped moving your mind was back on the previous night, but Felicity must have sensed as much for she quickly blurted out a fun fact about ducks to distract you. For the rest of the time you were there she kept your mind on other things. She gave you an extended rundown on all the gossip from her workplace. It didn’t matter that you didn’t know who Derick was, you soon heard all about his tryst with the copy boy, and when you asked if the Susie M who was mentioned was the same Susie M that made out with the boss at last year’s Christmas party you heard all about the fallout from her drunk misstep. Felicity led you on a stroll around the pond as you laughed at her stories and filled her in on what you were hoping your next role would be. “I’ve been sent a couple of interesting scripts. There’s one for a sci fi time travel thing which I’m hoping to get a call back for. And there was one for a comedy about a coven of witches causing mayhem with their potions. I’m only about halfway through the script but I’d happily play any of the three lead witches, so I think I’ll have a crack at it.” “They both sound really good. Different to your last role.” “Yeah. Different’s good though.” Eventually you wound your way towards a small coffee shop opposite the far side of the park. The slice of apple tea cake you ordered was the first food you’d eaten since the few bites at dinner and Felicity didn’t let you leave until you’d finished it, though she was subtle in her insistence. When you put your fork down with food still left on the plate she ordered a second coffee for each of you which gave you little to do but keep eating. You thanked her after but she pretended not to know what you were talking about. It wasn’t until you got home again that she returned your phone. “You should call Ben,” “Do I have to?” “Stop pouting and do it. You’re cute together and you obviously love him. Just suck it up and talk to him.” You let out a heavy sigh and then took the phone back, refraining from rolling your eyes at how wrong she was about your feelings.

You headed out onto the back patio and, with some slight trepidation, called Ben. The call rang out. With a frown you headed back inside only to be greeted by Felicity making chicken noises. “I didn’t chicken out, he just didn’t pick up. He must be busy.” “Or he’s upset. Call back. You can come in after he’s not picked up three times or you’ve had a chat.” “Okay, I’ll try again, jeez,” you went back outside and shut the door behind you. Your second attempt was as unsuccessful as your first and you were just about to hang up on the third try when he picked up. “Hello?” “Hi Ben,” “Y/N,” there was none of the joy in his voice that usually accompanied your name. “Can we talk, is now a good time?” “Yeah,” “Okay, I just, uh, I wasn’t sure since you didn’t pick up straight away.” “Well I wouldn’t want to come across as more needy than I already do.” “I shouldn’t have said that,” you leaned against the wall of the house in the same spot you’d seen Ben lean countless times after you’d told him he couldn’t smoke inside, “I’m so so sorry about everything I said.” “It’s not what you said, Y/N. I get it, we had to fight and you let loose. From an acting perspective I’m actually really fucking impressed. I, uh, I might have watched the video when I got home, just once, and it looks legit. Like, that line about pretending to love me as much as I do you.” You held your breath, waiting for him to ask how you knew. “I mean, that’s exactly what we were going for anyway, just without the details of not having met each other’s families. Everyone still heard us argue about moving at different paces and it was some really great improvisation.” “You think so?” “Yeah absolutely. I don’t think I could have come up with a line like that on the fly. Seriously, if we were allowed to tell people it was fake, that would have fit well on your audition reel.” “So you’re not upset with me?” There was a pause as Ben thought about his next words. “Not upset exactly. Like I said, I get that it was a scene. But the way you sounded when you called me clingy….it was pretty clear there were some real feelings in there too and I,” Ben sighed, “I just wish you’d talk to me about how you were feeling beforehand.” “I didn’t really know how.” “But if I’d known that I was making you uncomfortable or coming across as clingy I would have pulled back. I could have texted less or crashed at your place less often. Not insisted on buying you books on our fake dates.” You scuffed your foot against the ground, not sure whether to come clean about overhearing him. You’d expected Ben to have realised by now that you knew, not to take what you’d said as some incredible performance. “I know I got kinda caught up in it all though,” he said before you could summon the courage to admit anything, “I, um, I really like…” You could feel your heart racing, convinced he was about to confess his feelings for you, completely unsure how to react. “…being someone’s boyfriend.” “Oh,” Why was he so determined to surprise you? Why did you feel disappointed? “It suits me. I like having someone to dote on and take care of and talk to and I guess it’s been a while since I properly, seriously dated anyone. I feel like I’ve got all this boyfriend energy stored up and nowhere for it to go. It comes in handy when we’re pretending to be on a date or whatever but sometimes it slips out when we’re just hanging out as friends, without the cameras and all that. Which isn’t an excuse or anything, I’m not trying to undermine any discomfort you felt.” “No, I get it.” “You do?” “Yeah. I mean, we said it was a weird situation right back when it was first pitched to us. That hasn’t really changed, has it?” “No,” he said with a small, soft chuckle, “still weird.” “Exactly. And sometimes I think it can be kind of confusing.” “Confusing?” You had a sudden mental image of a dog with pricked up ears, “Confusing’s maybe the wrong word. Hard to keep up with is I guess what I’m trying to say. It’s different to acting in love with someone on a movie because on a movie there’s a definite time span. The director calls cut and you can stop pretending. But we don’t get that cut. Even when there’s no cameras we’re still faking it for the people we know and anyone who might see us,” you glanced inside to make sure Felicity wasn’t listening in. “Do you think that’s why you didn’t know how to talk to me? Because there’s no clear line between Y/N and Ben as friends and Y/N and Ben as a couple.” “Maybe,” you shrugged, “I don’t think it helps.” “Yeah. It’s like, obviously there are times when we have to be all coupley and I guess it gets hard to say when something is uncomfortable because then it’s like what about next time we’re out and we have to do that thing anyway. And there are things I’m happy to do with my friends that I don’t think twice about but might carry extra meaning in our situation.” “Exactly. I don’t want to say I don’t like something and make you feel bad when we then have to do it because people are watching.” “So what are you suggesting then?” “Well, we aren’t allowed to see each other in public for a couple of weeks now, right? So maybe this could be a chance for us to take a break. Not in a completely cut off way, I still wanna talk to you and stuff. But if we give ourselves some space, y’know. Try and shake….excess feelings a-and work out our boundaries better.” “Sure, yeah, I can see how that would help.” “It’s just a couple of weeks and like we can still text or call or whatever we just wouldn’t hang out together and it wouldn’t be every day.” “Y/N, I get it. It’s a good idea.” You took a deep breath, “Okay. Cool. Um, so we’re good?” “Of course we are. I-” Ben seemed to stop himself from saying something, instead sighing, “We’re good,” “Good.” There was nothing else to stay but you didn’t want to hang up. Neither did Ben, it seemed, both of you just standing in silence. You could hear faint music playing on his end, like it was coming from another room. Maybe he was in his kitchen, leaning against the bench, the radio on in the next room over. Or maybe he was sitting on his couch, the TV down low so the repetitive game music wouldn’t disturb your conversation. You could see him so clearly, sitting in his usual seat, controller abandoned beside him. You wondered if he could tell where you were. “I guess I should go then,” He said softly, “I’ll talk to you soon.” “Bye Ben,” “Bye cud- Y/N.”

“How’d it go?” Felicity asked when you came back inside. “Alright. We’re gonna take a break from seeing each other so much and sort out how we feel and stuff.” “That sounds good,” “Yeah,” you felt relieved at having had the conversation but it was mixed with a weird sadness you couldn’t put your finger on, making you feel vaguely like you wanted to be sick again. “Why don’t you go lie down for a bit. I’ll hang out and then tonight we can order pizza and watch cat videos or vine compilations or something dumb like that.” “You don’t have to stay, I’m fine.” “Hun, I’m staying. Maybe I’ll take a run to the shop, pick up some ice cream and booze and face masks. Sound fun?” “Definitely,” “Alrighty then, it’s a plan.” You felt slightly cheered by the thought as you made your way to your room and fell onto the bed, not bothering to change or move the covers, but it didn’t stop room from blurring with tears as soon as you were alone.

Keeping the distance between you and Ben was a mixed bag. On one hand not seeing each other meant there was no lingering pressure of another date or photo opportunity weighing on you. But on the other it also meant a queue of TV shows you felt unable to watch since you’d started them together. You didn’t have to worry that Ben would suddenly call you or rock up on your doorstep, unable to keep his affections to himself any longer. But you also missed out on random messages asking if you could remember that song (“you know the one it was from the early 2000s. Went something like…,”) or the way he’d chuck popcorn at you from the other side of the couch until you managed to catch some in your mouth. It gave you a chance to relax without worrying you were leading him on, or that you’d say the wrong thing, or that the rules you’d come up with would be broken. But that was because you barely spoke to him. Your communication was kept to text messages whenever something big happened and not much more. Ben sent you a message when he got a call back for one of the movies he’d auditioned for. You texted him when your neighbour’s dog had puppies, partly because they’d asked if you knew anyone who could adopt one when it was a little bigger, but partly because the second you saw the babies you thought of how much he’d love them. And yes, you were sleeping better without so much pressure and anxiety, but it hadn’t stopped Ben from appearing in your dreams and even daydreams, explicitly so more often than you were willing to admit. Then of course there was the bombardment of emails from family and friends checking in on you after they’d seen the video. It got so out of hand you’d had to make a rare post on your private Facebook account letting them know things were fine, just to get them to stop harassing you. But you couldn’t stop the harassment you were getting from strangers on all your other social media pages. You got into the bad habit of checking all the big gossip mag websites for  stories about you, following them with as much fervour as any fan might. Ben must have had some paparazzi taking up residence on his street too because you saw countless pictures of Ben going about his day – out with friends, walking to Tesco, smoking outside a pub. And every time there was some story attached either about how heartbroken he was or about how he was sneaking off to meet you in private. You coped the same treatment, though sometimes with the added twist of announcing you were pregnant. All it did was make you wish you could have a hug from Ben and talk about it with him. You came very close to buying a pack of cigarettes one day, just so you could burn one and have its scent linger around your house like Ben had brought it in with him. Felicity was brilliant. She found amusement in the unfamiliar photographers, especially when an article appeared with photos of you and her hugging on your doorstep, speculating you’d moved on from Ben already. It wasn’t so surprising that she’d snuck her way into the magazines she so loved to read considering she checked in on you a lot in the first few days. But, as much as you loved her, and as much as she made you laugh, she had her own job and partner to think about and she couldn’t quite grasp what was happening the same way Ben could have. You missed him more than you thought you would, even with all the baggage from his unrequited crush. So much so that the realisation your makeup date was approaching had you grinning as you made your morning coffee, humming the song from his mug.

It was a surprise, though not an unpleasant one, to hear your phone ringing at close to nine the night before the date. You were sitting in bed playing solitaire on your laptop when your ringtone interrupted. Ben was apologetic as he greeted you, repeatedly saying sorry for calling at all. “It’s okay Ben, I really don’t mind.” You said, putting the laptop aside and relaxing back against the pillows. “Are you sure? I should have just emailed you.” “Ben, stop. I’m glad you called. I’ve missed hearing your voice.” “You have?” “Of course I have. I spent two and a bit months doing nothing but listen to you blab, you really think I’d just forget you?” You could hear his smile when he continued, “I’ve missed talking to you too. I figured this would be a good excuse.” “This being?” “Tomorrow night. Peter said he’d send you the info.” “Of course, yeah I got his email. Tomorrow night, meeting at Boucher at seven.” “Yup, that’s the info.” “I was told to dress up and be prepared to smooch.” “Did he say smooch?” “No,” you laughed, “His phrasing sounded a lot stuffier and careful not to create a lawsuit, but I figured that’s what he meant.” “Yeah, um, you’re okay with that?” “Absolutely. It’s a makeup dinner and we’re going to be together for another couple of months so we should play up the romance and the um, physicality and all that.” You tried to ignore the sudden warmth in your cheeks and the memory of your last dream. “Okay, good because I was specifically told about what happens when we leave the restaurant.” “Hmmm I think I remember something about that but again, stuffy non-lawsuit language. Kinda hard to follow at times.” “Basically they want us to make out while we wait for an Uber. Like, proper make out.” “Oh,” “I told them neither of us are public make out people but they’re insisting they need it. Something about it being an obvious indication of getting back together or whatever. And technically we agreed to it when we signed up for this whole thing.” “Thanks for the heads up.” “No worries. Glad I called now, wouldn’t have wanted to just spring that on you. But um, that’s it really, I’ll let you get back to your last night of peace.” “Wait,” you blurted without having anything else to say. “Yeah?” “Ummm, oh! Did you hear anything more about that movie?” “Not yet but Peter said they’re still in talks. Hopefully soon.” “What’s it about?” “It’s an actiony thriller thing. This guy, the role I auditioned for, witnesses a murder and then gets dragged into this revenge mission. I’d get to shoot some big guns and drive a cool car and y’know save the girl, all that stuff.” “Sounds fun,” “Yeah, what about you, any auditions?” “One or two but nothing’s come of them. I sent my reel in for this supernatural comedy about a coven of witches. Too soon to know anything though.” “Well I hope you get it,” “Yeah, likewise.” “Thanks.” You were forcefully reminded of your last conversation when you both lapsed into silence again, neither of you making any move to hang up. You wanted to keep talking but part of you was worried that if you used up all your conversation topics now, you’d have nothing to talk about over dinner tomorrow, and if that happened you were bound to blurt out something you shouldn’t. Instead you just savoured the sound of Ben’s breaths and the odd rustle of clothing as he shifted around. Once again he was the one to break the silence. “Well, as lovely as it has been to chat, I should go. Gotta get a good night sleep so I’m ready to woo you tomorrow.” “You’re not going to bed yet are you? It’s so early,” “I was gonna read or something for a bit actually.” “Have you finished that show we started?” “Which one?” “Any of them? “No. Figured they could wait.” “You wanna watch one now?” “What, over the phone?” “Yeah, we can try to time it so it plays at the same time.” “Uh, sure, why not,” You quickly grabbed your laptop and, after some discussion of which show you were more in the mood for, found the right episode. There was laughter on both ends of the line as you attempted to hit play at the same time, counting down from three between giggles. It took you a few tries but you eventually got them to sync up, more or less. It felt nice to hear Ben’s laughter again, his voice when he sang along with the soundtrack, his comments about the nitty gritty of the production side – odd line deliveries and angles of shots. He was easy to talk to. Though with everything that had happened, everything you knew, just the act of talking to him set off butterflies in your stomach.

It took you well over an hour to get ready for the date. You’d been told to go all out so that’s exactly what you did. With a little help from Felicity so you could get away with a calming pre dinner drink. She gave you a hand choosing an outfit – a dress, short but not too short, classy but eye catching. It had started life as a dress for a movie premiere but after a few years the top didn’t fit quite right so you’d had it altered, the skirt was taken up, cut off and attached to a new top that more suited your current style, leaving you with a slightly shorter and much more you outfit. Glass of Prosecco close to hand, Felicity worked on your hair and offered advice on your makeup. When you were finished and could reveal the full look to her, she squealed. “You’re absolutely going to get laid.” “Shut up. I look alright though? Lipstick’s not too dark?” “Honey, you look gorgeous. I swear, you’re gonna get dicked down in the bathroom of that fancy as fuck restaurant because he’s not gonna be able to keep his hands off you.” You burst out laughing, “Good to know. Not exactly the plan for the evening but at least I’m prepared now.” “What is your plan?” “I don’t really have one, which is not helping me stay calm. I guess just find out if he’s still interested in me. And then work out where we go from there. We talked last night and that was good but I just need to know if he’s, you know, still into me.” “He’s head over heels for you, that won’t have changed. The question is, do you love him?” You wanted to say no but obviously couldn’t so you settled for a soft, “I’ve have missed him.” She hummed with an annoyingly knowing look. “I should be going, the Uber’ll be here soon.” Felicity pulled you into a hug, “Knock him dead, Y/N,” and then, as an afterthought added, “don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” “You first hooked up with your girlfriend because some drunk guy told you he’d buy you both drinks if you made out. There’s nothing you wouldn’t do.” Felicity laughed, “That was just a free drink, imagine what I’d do if there was a fancy French dinner involved.”

You arrived before Ben did. A quick glance up and down the street told you he wasn’t approaching just yet, so you opened your clutch to give yourself something to think about other than the sound of snapping cameras. Phone, lipstick, tissues, compact mirror, three condoms. You laughed to yourself when you saw them and made a mental note to lie about how useful they were when you next saw Felicity. Quick footsteps caught your attention and you looked up in time to see Ben running towards you. “Sorry, I’m late,” he said between breaths, pressing a kiss to your cheek as soon as he was within reach, “My Uber got caught in traffic and I had to make a stop,” He held out a small bouquet of flowers in a variety of pinks, purples and yellows. “For me?” “No for the other girl I’m seeing, of course for you. You like them?” “They’re beautiful,” you took the bouquet and breathed in its sweet scent. “I saw it in the shop and, um yeah, I don’t know, they seemed nice, a-and I know you, um, like nice things, so,” he stopped babbling with a pained expression on his face, for once more visibly nervous than you. “It’s very sweet of you, thank you,” “I’m glad you think so because right now it feels kinda cliché and cheesy. Now you have to carry them around all night, what was I thinking? And god can I just shut up. Sorry.” You couldn’t help but laugh as he scrunched his nose up and ran his hand through his hair, unintentionally endearing, “Calm down, Ben, we’ve done this before.” “I know,” “Let’s just go inside, further away from these cameras, and have a drink, sound good? “God yes,” he nodded and let you lead him through the door up to the hostess stand, managing to pull himself together enough to give her the name of the booking. As expected, she told you to wait in the bar until a table was ready.

Ben downed his first drink in one hit. It made you wonder how hard he was finding it to be around you. Had the space helped him quiet his feeling for you? Or had it just made him want you more? Was that why he seemed so out of sorts, stumbling over his words in a way that was so unlike him. You desperately wanted to find out where he stood but it was impossible without giving yourself away. What you needed was for him to make another phone call you could overhear but the likelihood of that happening was slim. You’d just have to put it from your mind for now. “Better?” You asked Ben as he caught the barman’s attention and ordered a second drink. “Getting there,” He took the new glass and drank, just a sip this time, “You look stunning by the way. I should have said it earlier,” “Thank you, you look very handsome,” He glanced down at the suit he was wearing, “Thanks.” A somewhat awkward silence followed. “So,” you said, louder than necessary, desperate to get him talking like he normally did lest you start to freak out too, “You been here before?” “No. Never even heard of it before Mary and Peter mentioned it. You?” “Same.” You looked around the room, searching for something else to talk about, “Nice though.” “Yeah, yeah, really swanky.” “Bit different from the painting thing,” “Yeah, very. Look I need to tell you someth-” “Mr Hardy? Your table is ready,” You smiled at the hostess, as he thanked her, and followed her towards a table for two, setting your bouquet down to the side. Ben smiled at you from across the table. “You were saying?” you asked, apprehensive and curious. “Oh, um, nothing, doesn’t matter. We’ve got a date to focus on.” “Wouldn’t want all these prying eyes to miss anything,” “Exactly. Cuddle bunny,” You smiled at the nickname despite its ridiculousness and leaned forward in your seat slightly, letting your fingers gently rest against the back of his hand. If he wanted to focus on the date and putting on a good show for the public then that was something you could do, “Babe.” The flush you’d seen creep onto Ben’s face before appeared again and he reached for his glass once more. “So, how have you been?” you asked, pulling your hand back towards you. He looked at its retreat and then back at your eyes, “Good. Got to hang out with the boys a few times last week which was really good.” “Beat them at any more video games?” “They won’t let me anywhere near FIFA at the moment,” “Discrimination,” “That’s what I tried to tell them!” he laughed, seeming to relax a little more, “bunch of babies.” “What about that trip thing you were organising, have you sorted that out?” “Not entirely. It’s with my friend Joe who lives in the States. He was going to come out here but we decided it wasn’t worth it since I’ll be over there soon anyway.” “You will?” “Well both of us will be. Part of the press stuff for The Perfect Match.” “Oh, right, of course,” you giggled and tucked your hair behind your ear. “He’s looking forward to meeting you though.” “I bet he is,” you said automatically. Of course he’d be keen to meet the woman his friend was infatuated with, you would be too. Ben gave you a questioning look but you covered well enough, “I mean, he’d obviously know about us dating so I assume he’d be curious to meet your girlfriend. Especially if we’re having public spats and stuff.” “Right, yeah, definitely. What about you? What’s been happening?”

From there you fell into your usual style of conversation, both of you relaxing more as the night wore on and the bottle of wine you ordered grew emptier. The only difference from normal was the romance of it all, played up as much as possible. Brushing hands as you both reached for the salt, soft smiles and laughs. You even went so far as to twirl a strand of hair around your finger like some love struck teenybopper in a soap opera. When your food arrived you let Ben feed you a bite off his fork. You offered a taste of your meal in return and he held your wrist as he leaned in. A gesture that left you breathless, blinking at him as he slowly withdrew his hand. The wine’s fault probably. You’d polished off the bottle by the time dessert arrived, on top of the drinks you’d had before you sat down. It made you feel looser and you assumed the same of Ben, judging by how different his demeanour was to the nervous, stuttering one he’d had when he showed up. Perhaps that was why, with a spoonful of chocolate mousse halfway to his mouth and no regard for the conversation you were having, he suddenly said, “Can I ask about these last couple of weeks?” “Uh, yeah, what d’you want to know?” “Was it good? The space, did you get what you wanted from it?” You thought for a moment, putting down your own spoon, “Yes. I’m not going to lie and say it wasn’t helpful because it really was. Just, having that break from everything. I think I really needed it. But I really really missed you too.” He smiled at that, looking down at his dessert like he was trying to hide it, “I’m glad. It was hard not seeing you but yeah, helped me figure some stuff out too. Confirmed some other stuff.” “Like what? If you don’t mind me asking.” “Like…um, the thing I said on the phone about enjoying playing the boyfriend. I like having someone special to share things with,” He sighed, “But that’s…not relevant right now. Do you want to get out of here?” You were a little taken aback by the suddenness of the suggestion but agreed, reapplying your lipstick for the cameras while the waiter collected your bill.

Ben wrapped his arm around your waist once you were outside, pulling you close. With the pretext on planting a kiss on your temple he quietly asked if you were ready for the next part. “Lay it on me,” you giggled, feeling warm and light. A second later his hand was sliding down your side towards your bum which set off another wave of giggles. He kept you close as you walked down the street, oblivious to the flash of cameras. Ben kept his arm around you, using the other to open the app and order a car. You stopped when you reached a quiet bus stop, Ben letting you go to sit down, tapping the spot beside him. But his hand wasn’t gone for long, instead moving to cup your cheek as he pulled you into a kiss. “I missed doing that,” he muttered but you were more focused on making it happen again, shifting yourself closer, laying your hand against him, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. His heart was pounding under your palm, but it matched the beat against your own chest. You’d forgotten how good he was at kissing but it came flooding back as you opened your lips for him, felt his tongue against yours. His hand was firm on your back, pulling you in but still not close enough. You whined, let him pull you onto his lap, pressed yourself against him, one hand in his hair so he wouldn’t stop kissing you. His hands were everywhere, on your arms and back and squeezing your arse, holding you in place as you arched your back slightly and kissed him harder. A car horn right beside you made you pull away, startled. “Ben?” The older man asked, looking down at their phone, “I’m here to pick you up.” “Shit,” Ben said softly, and then to the driver, “Sorry, yes, that’s us.” You let your head fall forward onto his shoulder for a second, smothering your laughter. “C’mon cuddle bunny,” he said softly, “they’ve had enough of a show.” Your legs felt unsteady as you stood and smoothed your skirt down. Ben opened the back door for you and followed you inside. “So sorry about that,” he said again to the driver. He just laughed, “It’s alright. I remember being your age and completely smitten. You’re that couple I’ve seen online, right?” “Uh, yes, that’d be us, I think” “Well if you wanna keep making out I won’t stop you. Might have to tweet about it though.” Ben laughed, “Thanks but I think we can hold off for a bit.” You looked over at Ben and had to cover your mouth to keep from laughing too loud when you saw the lipstick smudged over Ben’s face. “What is it?” Still laughing you handed ben your compact mirror and the pack of tissues from your clutch. “Christ,” he said softly, “The internet’s going to fucking love this.”

The Uber driver left you at the end of Ben’s driveway with a wink and a have fun. There were paparazzi waiting for you so you grabbed Ben’s hand and pressed a kiss to his shoulder. He led you inside, refusing to let go of your hand even while trying to dig his keys from the opposite pocket. Once you were inside, you placed your slightly bruised bouquet on the hall stand, leaned against the closed door and began taking your shoes off. Normally, after being out together and winding up at Ben’s place, you’d head straight to the bathroom to take off your makeup. He’d go and fetch two glasses of water if you’d been drinking or maybe something warm if the night was cool. You’d change into the pyjamas you kept at his place and then join him in the lounge room, sometimes tucking yourselves under the same blanket, to watch TV until you were yawning and struggling to stay awake. And then you’d wish each other good night and head to your separate rooms. But this time something felt different. You kicked your shoes to the side of the hallway and stayed against the door, watching as Ben pulled his wallet from his pocket, dropping it and his keys next to your flowers. He slowly turned towards you, taking a step closer. And you knew you should move, should dodge around him, make a joke about not needing to take off your makeup since he’d already done it for you but you found yourself stepping towards him too. There was a beat as you both realised how close you were. You heard Ben swallow, watched his eyes move to your lips unashamedly. Later, when you were lying in the dark wondering what the fuck had happened, you’d tell yourself it was the wine. A brief impairment of judgement exacerbated by months of celibacy and an easily suggestable brain. Whether you believed it was another question.

You closed the gap but he was only a second behind, hand back on your waist as his other found your jaw. You wrapped your arms around his neck, let him slowly walk you through the house towards the living room you where you’d spent so many nights joking around. He didn’t stop kissing you while you stumbled through the house, not unless he had to and even then he never went far, his breath hot against your lips. You pushed him down onto the couch and straddled his lap, continuing what had been interrupted, his hands falling back to your arse, pushing up your skirt, squeezing, as you tugged on his hair, making him groan. A single rational thought was trapped in the back of your mind, trying to breakthrough but it was hard to think when Ben was holding you like that, kissing you like that, especially after so long without being touched at all. He broke away to mouth at your throat and it was only then that you had enough time to think clearly. “Wait,” you said softly and then again more insistently. “What is it?” “What are we doing? We can’t,” “Why not?” You shook your head, and pushed yourself off of him, taking a couple of steps back, “It’s rule one Ben,” “We wouldn’t even have to break rule one though, we can just stay here on the couch. No harm in making out if we’ve already done it.” A whine caught in your throat and you took an extra half step back to keep from rushing into his arms again, more rational thoughts pushing through the broken wall and joining the first. You shouldn’t, not if there was any chance Ben still had a crush on you. It wouldn’t be fair. “I’d be good to you Y/N, you know I would,” You shook your head, “You know this isn’t real, right Ben?” “Of course I know that,” “Really? Because sometimes I think you forget I’m not actually in love with you.” What’s that supposed to mean?” You bit your lip to try and stop yourself from saying what you were about to say but it was no use, the words were already half out, “I heard you talking to Joe the night you left your keys at the bar. I know you have a crush on me.” “You heard that?” His eyes were wide, horrified. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to overhear I just needed a drink an-.” “Oh my god,” He sat up straighter and ran a hand through his hair again and you wished it was your fingers mussing it up, “Maybe you should go.” “Wait, Ben, let’s just talk about it.” “Is that why you were upset before the argument? Is that why you didn’t want to see me for the last two weeks?” “I thought some space might help you stop feeling that way.” He laughed at that, “I’m – I’ve been trying to stop feeling like this for months now, since we were filming together, but I can’t, I can’t shake you. I love you. And it won’t go away.” “You love me?” Ben nodded, looking up at you from the couch but you couldn’t meet his eye. “You don’t have to say you don’t feel the same, I know.” You didn’t know what to say, just stood there, frozen in place. “That’s what I thought,” He stood up, chewing on his lip and when he spoke he had to clear his voice to make it loud enough for you to hear, “I, um, I know I just said you should leave but you can’t go yet. There are still paparazzi out there and we’re meant to look like we’ve made up. I’m going to go to bed though and you can stay until they leave or, if you can still stand to look at me, then you’re welcome to stay the night and I’ll drop you home in the morning. I’m really sorry.” You watched him walk towards the hallway, still frozen in place.

[giftwrappingpaper]

excerpt from a collection of first-hand accounts of the Siege of the Burial Mounds

Account of Fu Li of Yiling, collected and transcribed by Huang Peizhi during the 30th year of the reign of Xuanzheng, the year of Gengyin: 

They arrived just as the sun set, parading through our town’s central road with little regard for common courtesy. Most armies have the sense, you see, to at least warn of their arrival to local officials in advance so we can clear out before they come. There was no warning this time, and so we had to scramble back into our homes to get out of their way. With how they all seemed to act — so incensed, as if they were possessed — I didn’t think they would’ve stopped for anything.

There were so many of them. At first I thought they were a militia group. So rowdy and mad, acting without any discipline. I would’ve assumed we were being raided if they hadn’t kept to the streets and left us alone. It was only after seeing them wave banners with the crests of the Four Great Sects that I realized it was a mob of cultivators. And it was a mob: no formation, no order...just a crazed intent to pass through our town and storm that godforsaken Burial Mounds.

I didn’t know why they were so passionate. I didn’t know why they were raiding the Burial Mounds. But I did remember the Sunshot Campaign and all the grief that came with it, even for us common folk — my sister and her family had just rebuilt their home that had burned down during the invasion of Yunmeng. So I kept out of their way and watched from my window as they marched.

My youngest is the only one out of us who keeps up with cultivator politics. As the entire family crowded at the window, she told us about the commune in the Burial Mounds, made up of refugees from the Sunshot Campaign and their ward, the Yiling Patriarch. He was a hated figure among you cultivators, I learned. Apparently he did something unforgivable a few months beforehand up north. My daughter said that he was the reason for the army. They were here to execute him.

At the time, I couldn’t believe one man could be so hated by so many.

They marched for hours. My husband thought himself a tactician and criticized them for single-filing into what we thought was a battlefield. There’s only one known path into the Burial Mounds, but the main mountain borders the Long River, and he said that an accompanying naval assault would be effective against an army with the higher ground. I now know that there was no army waiting for them. But we didn’t at the time.

We still heard them long after they’d gone: their footsteps, their swords, their yelling. I still remember their chants — not the words, I mean, but the fury in them. But they were gone. I thought that was the end of that.

It was late when it happened. I was still awake, manning the night shift even though the cultivators had scared off any potential customers. People were still scared to leave their homes. And maybe it was good they were scared, because the world — it, it rumbled. I thought it was an earthquake, one strong enough to shake all our cabinets open, to topple everything off the tables. I hid under the counter, scared out of my wits. Didn’t even think to check on my kids.

An invisible force knocked me to the ground. Nearly fainted from the shock of it. But it wasn’t — physical? Well, not all physical. I could feel it inside of me, too. And it made me...angry. Very, very angry. I had never been that angry before, and never have been since. And I wasn’t even angry at anything, I just was. I wanted to scream, I wanted everyone to hear me screaming, to stop everything and just listen to me scream. I wanted to laugh, to cry. I wanted to rip my own heart out with how angry I was.

I’m sorry. I know I’m not making much sense. This is very hard to explain, and it was such a long time ago…

Anyway. It didn’t last long. After, I don’t know, a minute? The air, it almost felt like it — became less dense. Like an overwhelming presence had entered into my restaurant without me even noticing and just...left. 

[Note: Fu Li paused here for a very long time.]

And then I wasn’t. Angry, I mean. Only sad. A mixture of inexplicable grief and profound guilt. I felt like I had lost something, but I didn’t know what — just that I, I couldn’t have it anymore, and it was my fault I couldn’t. And I wanted it, I wanted it so much…And if I couldn’t have it, what was the point of all this? What was the point of anything? I started crying right then, all alone, lying fetally underneath my counter, consumed by this horrible sense of loss. 

This lasted much longer than the anger.

I asked my family later if they felt it, too. They did. The whole town did. It was consoling, in a weird way, knowing we had shared this strange experience together.

They came back the next day. My restaurant was full of cultivators of all sects — gold, purple, green, white. They wanted to celebrate, to recount again and again what had happened. That was where I learned that all the refugees on the commune were killed and that the Yiling Patriarch was dead. A fate well deserved, they said. I never got a concrete answer as to how he died, but it mustn’t have mattered because they were very happy either way that he was gone. 

So I indulged them with rounds of food and liquor. Good business, that day.

But even after a day full of celebration, I could only feel pity. Yes, the people up there living in the Burial Mounds must have been horrible people who had done horrible things. Not that I would know. But they did nothing to me, and through my ignorance I couldn’t think of anything anyone could do to warrant such an inhumane slaughter. I still can’t.

We’re located at the foot of the Burial Mounds, but even from here we could still see and smell the fires the cultivators lit during their march up the mountain. Some of my neighbors even claimed to catch a whiff of decaying meat, but I thankfully never smelled anything that sinister. The cultivators only put out the fires when they returned a week later with those stone beasts. Still, the stench lingered for days afterward. I never did see them bring any bodies down.

Who could ever deserve that?

You know. We’re the closest town to the Burial Mounds, and they would visit us sometimes. I was certain that’s where they came from because they smelled the way the mountain smelled — cold, unchanging, unfeeling death. 

Usually it was a young man — I remember him fondly, for he had a nice smile; he was often with that timid friend of his and a child I assume was his son. They dressed humbly. They sold vegetables. Radishes, mostly. The man was always so eager to talk with whoever was willing to talk to him. He seemed friendly. Kind.

It feels odd to talk about them. The all consuming anger and grief I had felt that day wasn’t my own, but it had to have come from somewhere. And I haven’t seen that man since, nor any of his friends. They’re probably dead now, long dead. Slaughtered on that hill by a mob that went crazy with bloodlust for their heads. How depressing. To be honest — and please, don’t take this the wrong way, Master Huang — I’ve always found you cultivators to be so steadfastly unforgiving.

-----

originally posted on twitter

[philipholt]

Looking back on Software Development in 2020 and forward to 2021

I think we can all agree 2020 sucked. Hopefully 2021 will be better.

I've been a remote worker for 13 years by choice but in 2020 I HAD TO DO IT because, well, most programmers and tech workers did. I wrote about how Remote work != Quarantine Work while our whole division and then the whole company moved back home! We were a fairly remote-friendly company before but I have to admit I didn't always think my coworkers had really deep empathy for the remote...until they, too, were forced to be remote.

Last week on the podcast, I got to speak with Amanda Silver. She's a CVP in the Microsoft Developer Division who has been coding and thinking deeply about coding for many years. She's leading the creation of tools like Visual Studio, Visual Code, Live Share, Code Spaces, IntelliCode, and other collaborative productivity products. She's always thinking about what coding will look like in 1, 5, and even 10+ years.

We talked about her thoughts on moving the division remote and whether it would slow us down. Would it change how we develop software? What about when everyone comes back? After talking to her about her thoughts on 2020 and where she thinks we're heading, I got to thinking myself and wanted to put those thoughts down.

2020 broke everything, and developers like to fix things

Somewhere in the spring as we started into lockdown, developers started making sites. Sites to track COVID, GitHub projects with scripts to scrape data and analyze it. Javascripters started making D3.js visualizations and codepen users started building on top of them. Bots on twitter would tweet out updates and parse new data.

When there's a problem - especially a scary or untenable one - developers run towards the challenge. Necessity breeds invention and 2020 was definitely a year where we were collectively reminded there was a bunch of stuff that was always possible, but we needed a push. Cameras and mics were upgraded, ring lights were purchased, home networks got fancier, and everyone who could called their ISP and got an upgraded plan. We could have done all this before, but why? Remote work happened for the first time in 2020, and I say that having worked remotely forever.

We HAVE to collaborate remotely now

Back in 2010 I spoke to PhDs at Microsoft Research about how people feel when they are remote and what they can do to be more connected. Ten years! Folks thought it was pretty "out there" but I sure needed my virtual cubicle buddy this year.

2020 accelerated what was possible with remote collaboration. I spent hours coding with Live Share, pushing text and coding context over the wire, not a ridiculous 4k worth of pixels. Having two cursors (mine and my friends) - or even 10! - in one Visual Studio seemed like magic. Even more magic is me pressing F5 and my coworker hitting their localhost and seeing our app running! We needed tech like this more than ever in 2020.

I heard one story where a company sent everyone home but folks had disparate desktops and laptops so they set up 100s of Virtual Desktops over a weekend so everyone was able to log into secure work systems from their home machines.

For us, since we use Github and Azure DevOps here in DeviDiv, our collaboration model is asynchronous and distributed whether we are in the office or not. Can you imagine everyone working remotely while using a locking source control system in 2020? I feel bad for those who are in that predicament.

Can something be BETTER remotely?

Many of us miss being in the same room with co-workers, and we will be together again one day, but are there some things that the constraint of being remote can make better? In the podcast episode Amanda said that our new hire bootcamp was so much better remotely!

She said (paraphrasing a bit):

We have a bootcamp for anybody who's newly started on the team. They actually fly out for two weeks. And the first week is introduction and the second week is our customer driven workshop. And our customer driven workshop is basically this really intense team project where you break up into groups of five to six people, and you're given a business assignment like - how could we double the number of Python developers using Visual Studio Code.

You're basically doing like stickies on the wall the entire week - that's how you collaborate. I've been so amazed that that has transitioned to be remote first. And it's better. It's better. That was a brainstorming process that I thought was only possible in person it's better.

When we moved remote, we had to essentially reboot the way that we thought about our meeting culture to actually make it much more inclusive. And if we go from 40 to 50% of the people participating to just 2 people participating, that's a huge, not only degradation, but you're wasting people's time. Right?

Now if we can actually take six people who've never met each other before and get them to work super collaboratively on a new problem area that they've never worked on before. It's incredible. And the thing that's also really awesome about it is they are forced by nature of the fact that this is remote to actually create it as digital content. Whereas in the beginning they would literally walk us through sticky notes on the wall and they had fantastic ideas, but it was really kind of somewhat unorganized and, and it was hard to be able to see and, and retain and share out afterwards what these incredible ideas were that they came up with.

But when remotely starts with this digital format by necessity because everyone is remote first, we actually now have all of these things archived. We can come back to them, we can go back and actually see, you know, what was the genesis of the thought and, and pursue a lot of these things that we really weren't being able to pursue previously.

Constraints breed innovation!

It was nice to be reminded that People are People

2020 normalized being a person. Having a boss welcome a sad child to sit with them during a meeting reminded me that, what, my boss is a person? With a life and kids? Having meetings while going for walks, talking about treadmill desks, and video called parties with family, and OMG when will this be over is the most horrible team building exercise ever.

It's forced us to rethink our group's culture, how our interpersonal dynamics work, how many meetings we have (let's have less), and it's given everyone the joy of somewhat flexible hours. We talk more now about 'is everyone in this meeting being heard?' than ever before. We use the "hand raising" tool in Teams to make sure all voices get a chance to speak.

If 2020 hadn’t happened, we may not have made these important leaps forward. MAYBE this would have happened by 2025 or 2030 but COVID was the pivot point that forced the issue.

Here's some other blog posts that are both reflecting on our last year and hopeful for the coming year:

Software Development in 2021 and Beyond by Amanda Silver

4 Open Source Lessons for 2021 by Sarah Novotny

Low-code Trends: Why Low-Code Will Be Big In Your 2021 Tech Strategy by Dona Sarkar

PODCAST: Living through 2020 as a Remote Developer

Sponsor: Looking for free secure coding training but don’t know where to turn? Check out Veracode Security Labs Community Edition to start hacking and patching real apps online. Try it today.

© 2020 Scott Hanselman. All rights reserved.

      Looking back on Software Development in 2020 and forward to 2021 published first on http://7elementswd.tumblr.com/

[krreader]

Monsta X (mafia!au) reacting to meeting you for the first time.

pairing: monsta x x reader fandom: monsta x warnings: non idol!au ; mafia!au ; mentions of murder ; language genre: angst ; fluff ; crack ; crime

a/n: there you go my love, I hope you like it ♥

ask box | masterlists | faq | twitter | ko-fi | REQUESTS ARE CLOSED.

son hyunwoo

“My, my, my,” you walked into the warehouse with your high heels and your hands clapping as you looked at Hyunwoo and his goons, “Trying to steal from me, weren't you?”

“Trying to take back what you first stole from me first is more like it,” unlike his men, Hyunwoo didn't hold a gun.

He was confident, had his hands behind his back and was smiling at you.

He was a pro, you could tell.

“When my men told me that you came here, I had to see for myself what the great Son Hyunwoo looked like. They say you're capable of a lot of things..”

“And yet you stole from me, knowing that I wouldn't let that slide.”

“You took the bait, didn't you? You're here after all.”

Mafia business was.. complicated. Sometimes asking someone to come and talk to you wasn't exactly going to work, so you had to make statements instead.

And a statement you made.

Hyunwoo was impressed, his grin indicating that.

“Alright, (Y/N). I'm all ears.”

“Wonderful. Shall we drive back to my office, then?”

“Lead the way.”

shin hoseok

“Do you have any idea who I am?” you asked the man who was about to torture you.

You weren't scared, you were just genuinely wondering if they knew what they were getting themselves into.

If your family found out about this, they'd burn the people responsible and all their families until there was nothing but ashes left.

“I do,” the door got opened and in walked a man you weren't familiar with.

Handsome, well-built, yet his eyes held nothing but hatred.

“You the one in charge?”

“I am.”

“Get to the point, then. What do you want?”

Hoseok laughed and sat down on an empty chair in the room, leaning forward with his elbows on his legs, “You really have no idea.. or maybe.. maybe you weren't even responsible after all.”

“Responsible for what?”

“Four months ago, someone murdered seven of my men and their families in cold blood. I took something that, apparently, had belonged to your family and to show me what happens to people who steal from your family, they made a statement.”

You remembered this, but you hadn't been the one who had done it. One of your father's men had done it.

“That someone wasn't me.”

“Doesn't matter to me now.. even if you didn't do it, you will help me get the one who did it. Otherwise I will send you back to daddy in pieces.”

“You're not scaring me, sweetheart,” you smiled at him, “And besides.. you and I both know you're not the type to do that.”

You knew killers and the likes merely by looking at them. And he wasn't one of them.

And you ended up being right. Hoseok didn't touch you once, he just left you in that room and visited every once in a while.

However, you two ended up talking. A lot. He explained himself to a point where you pitied him. Your father and his men had done a lot of horrible things that you couldn’t agree with, what they did to his men being one of them.

And who would have thought that you'd end up helping him get the man who hurt him so much.. and then even take down your own father because you knew this city was being flooded with blood that your father spilled..

lee minhyuk

Was this guy for real?

Did he really think storming your base, all alone, would get him anything other than killed?

No.. nobody could be this stupid right?

You raised your hand, telling your men to stand down, then you carefully approached him.

“What's your name?”

“Minhyuk. Lee Minhyuk,” he was pointing his gun at you, but his hands were shaking.

“Alright, Lee Minhyuk,” you smiled, “I don't think you're used to guns, so why don't you put it down and tell me why you're here?”

“No!” and when his arms stiffened, your men were all immediately on high alert again, but you just told them to stand down once more.

“Okay.. okay, then.. tell me what you want, Minhyuk.”

“Three weeks ago, your people came into my family's shop and started taking whatever the hell you wanted. My father tried to stop you and then you started hitting him.. so much until he didn't move anymore. I tried to stop them, but they pushed me and I fell, hitting my head and falling unconscious. And when I woke up, my father was lying dead beside me and my mother was screaming her lungs out.”

This was the first time you heard about that. You hadn't ordered a raid, nor did you order civilians to be killed. You never ordered that.

But your men.. some of them were bastards, no matter how loyal or tough they were. 

“Guns down. All of you,” you waited until all guns were on the floor, then you looked back at Minhyuk, “Look around and tell me if you can see the men that did it.”

Oh, that he did. He’d remember them for the rest of his life.

Five of them. Five of them that you shot without blinking once.

You were ruthless, but only when necessary. Raiding stores of poor families wasn't what you were known for, this was simply power play of some of your men and you weren't here for that.

It wouldn't bring his family back, but he could breathe again afterwards.

“Let me get you something to drink.. it won't bring your father back, but maybe I can help you somehow.. pay for the funeral, money.. whatever you need, you'll get. It’s the least I can do for you”

Minhyuk wanted to hate you, but you weren't like them.

And that's what made him come with you.

yoo kihyun

Yoo Kihyun embodied everything you hated about this business.

The cocky 'I'm above everyone' guy that thought he owned the underworld and everyone who lived in it, despite his father being the boss of the mafia. Or at least a mafia group.

Because, even though he would probably like it very much, he wasn't the only one who ruled this city. Or at least the underground parts of it.

“Hey princess,” while yours and his father talked, Kihyun finally – unfortunately – decided to talk to you. He was smoking, blowing the disgusting smoke right into your face, but you didn't even flinch, didn't even close your eyes, “Heard a lot about you, you know? My father told me you're very.. skilled with those hands of yours.”

From the way he licked his lips he wanted to insinuate something sexual, but you couldn’t care less, no matter how handsome he looked.

You cocked your head to the side, smiling at him sweetly, “I can kill you in five seconds with 'those hands' and I'm going to consider it if you don't stop blowing smoke into my face.”

Not the response Kihyun usually got from women, that's why he looked so taken aback. But he ended up smiling and did what you asked with a nod, “I like you.”

“Congrats.”

And with that you walked away.

He liked you so much that whenever he got the chance, he’d approach you. He was annoying, he was a little shit, but nowadays, meetings felt kinda empty without him and his annoying smoking and drinking and smiling..

..maybe you liked him too.. just a little bit though.

chae hyungwon

“Not to rain on your parade or anything, but.. did you just say your father is the biggest underworld boss there is?” you furrowed your eyebrows, your girlfriends behind you all giggling at that.

“He is,” Hyungwon said with confidence, all of his male friends behind him grinning cockily, “I'm sure you've heard of him.. everyone has.”

“Oh, I have, yes. It's the one my father usually laughs about every day at dinner. He calls him 'Magikarp'. Says he's not good for shit.”

Hyungwon did not hit women, but he was so fucking close to making an exception for you when he took a step closer.

To his surprise, you didn't even flinch, you just continued grinning.

“Next time you try to brag about your family, don't do it in front of me when you know my father is the real boss,” you whispered, gently patting his cheek and then walking away with swaying hips.

And him and his group of wannabe mafia bosses stood there with open mouths, until one of them whispered: “You have to give it to her.. she's amazing.”

They all agreed until Hyungwon angrily turned around and murdered them with his look.

lee jooheon

To think that the guy in front of you was the same guy that you had messaged for months now, had gotten to know and maybe even love and now you found out that he had lied to you all along and was someone else entirely.

But, truth be told, you had no right to be angry with him, because you had lied to him as well.

He had gotten your number through a friend, said friend had not told him who you were and you hadn't told him either. You said you were normal and he said the same thing. You guys got to know each other as the people you would like to be, not the people you really were..

But now as you were standing across from the other one, you both realized that destiny could be a little bitch sometimes.

“Do.. you.. know each other?” your father asked as you and Jooheon had been staring at each other for at least five minutes now.

“No.. unfortunately not.”

Jooheon had felt so bad lying to you about his life.. he had thought you'd hate him if he told you the truth, but maybe.. maybe you were a lot more accepting than he thought you’d be.

“Maybe we could get to know each other though.. for real.”

You smiled a little, “I'd like that a lot.”

In the meantime, your fathers just shrugged and went ahead with the scheduled meeting.

“I’m Jooheon,” he extended his hand.

“Nice to meet you, Jooheon. I’m (Y/N),” you smiled as you shook his head.

Maybe destiny was a bitch, but a bitch that always knew what she did.

im changkyun

It was pouring in Seoul tonight. Only a few people were running through the streets, desperate to find a roof over their heads to not get soaked.

And yet there was one person standing in front of your house that did not move, but looked straight at you.

You furrowed your eyebrows, ended up walking away and getting yourself a drink, but only a few moments later, you realized you weren't alone anymore.

“I knew you were here for me.. am I going to end up dead tonight?” always the same.. would they ever learn?

“That depends on you, (Y/N),” he kept quite a lot of distance between you two, was soaked when you turned around a looked at him, “My name is Changkyun. The one who got sent to murder you.”

“And? Are you going to? Like the last five that have tried?”

“That is why I said it will depend on you.”

He wasn't like the last assassin's. He was willing to talk, the others just wanted to kill you straight away.

Why though?

“Well? What do you want, then? Money? Power? Women?”

“Information. You give that to me, I will give you the name of the person who hired me and all those before me.”

“Aren't you afraid that he'll hunt you down?”

Changkyun snorted, “If I give you the name, I doubt he'll live for very much longer.”

Whoever that person was, this game was getting boring. You always killed the assassin’s and you wanted a peaceful night again for once. So this was an easy deal. Whatever information he wanted, you’d gladly trade it for some good night’s rest.

“Good point,” you poured another glass and then extended your hand, “You've got yourself a deal, Changkyun.”

He pulled down his hood with a grin.

[glorious-blackout]

Summary of Junior Doctor Life during a Pandemic - Part Three(ish):

We have new junior doctors! Their roles are rather limited - they can’t prescribe, can only do 8-hour shifts with no overtime, and are banned from working in COVID wards - but they’re keen beans and eager to help whenever a set of bloods or cannula needs doing. It’s similar to the ‘Preparation for Practice’ block I did at the end of Uni, only unlike me they’re actually getting paid AND don’t need to get lots of stuff signed off by supervisors 😂 

We prepared for the worst and it thankfully hasn’t happened. Our Red Ward is no longer a Red Ward - our area for suspected COVID patients has been moved and is now shared with Ortho and ENT - and despite some tweaks, we’re slowly returning to normal duties. Given that there was once talk of our department hosting a palliative ward for COVID patients too unwell for ITU, I’ve never been more grateful for an anticlimax.

That’s not to say we’re out of the woods though. Our ITU and specialised Red Wards are still seeing their fair share of cases. On top of that, while ITU staff have access to the WHO approved PPE, staff in the Red wards have the same PPE we do, i.e. a plastic apron, surgical mask (not fitted) and gloves. As a result, apparently as many as seventeen nurses have either contracted the virus or had to self isolate for another reason. One of my FY1 colleagues contracted COVID-19 from dealing with a sick positive patient during a night-shift, as did all other members of her team despite wearing PPE. I’ll admit that a lot of this is hearsay and we’re prone to jumping on the rumour-mill, but considering similar stories are being told across the country, it doesn’t exactly inspire confidence.

Most patients are nice and understanding when you need to put in a cannula, but there’s always one who calls you a bitch repeatedly and tries to punch your arm when you’re trying to put a needle in theirs. C’est La Vie.

A Cardiac Arrest in the Midst of a Pandemic:

My first experience of a cardiac arrest during the pandemic occurred during a night-shift and was about as horrible as you can imagine. The patient had tested negative and had no symptoms, but the guidelines now are to treat all patients as though they could have COVID-19 regardless. The gentleman had been complaining of pain for the past hour, and barely five minutes after I arrived on the ward to look through his notes, his nurse called for help because he appeared ‘vacant’. He was startlingly pale by the time I arrived and his hands were freezing, and though he had a pulse he was completely unresponsive when we tried to rouse him. One of the nurses ran to call for the arrest team while I went to page my senior, and by the time the team arrived there was no pulse. 

Our new guidelines dictate that only a small number of people can be in the room with the patient and they all need to be in full PPE - including gown and fitted masks - so there was a mad rush for essential staff to don this while the rest of us were chased away and forced to watch from the corridor. I stayed there to offer what little information I knew from reading his notes - I hadn’t met him before so that’s all I had - and eventually had to run to A+E to process a blood sample, but for the most part I was useless. The list of likely causes quickly dwindled and any attempts at treatment failed. Despite ten cycles of CPR, there was ultimately no response and time of death was called after an agonising twenty minutes.

Dealing with an expected death or someone who is clearly unwell from the start is one thing, but when someone deteriorates that quickly with a bad outcome, the aftermath can leave you in a daze. The patient’s nurse was shaking and we had to convince her to sit down and have a cup of tea because she was beating herself up over what she could have done differently (the answer to that was nothing - she was amazing). Even I fell into that trap - I had been paged about the man half an hour earlier for a pain review, but had been called to see another patient with breathlessness first and had deemed that the priority. Logically I know that me being there half an hour earlier would have made absolutely no difference - hell, he’d been sitting up and chatting to the nurse five minutes prior to his collapse - but those are the thoughts that nag at you in situations like this. 

For our student nurse, it was her first ever experience of a cardiac arrest. It was my first in a while - most of the deaths I’ve dealt with in surgery have been patients too unwell for CPR. Even the senior leading the arrest team admitted at the end that it was the first time he’d ever had to call ‘time of death’. But perhaps the worst thing of all was the fact that when the patient’s family came to see him and were visibly distraught, the nurse who accompanied them was unable to offer comfort because of the need for full PPE. She admitted to us afterwards that she’d felt terrible and could only say, “I’m so sorry, I wish I could give you a hug.” It went against all her natural instincts to be so distant. 

The surreal reality of living in a pandemic became clearer in the aftermath. Despite the patient’s negative result, the fact that aerosol generating procedures (e.g. attempts at intubation) had been performed meant his bay had to be deep cleaned by staff in full PPE and left unoccupied for up to an hour. In a panic, one nurse had brought the full arrest trolley into the bay (apparently the guideline now is to leave it in the corridor and only bring essential equipment like the defibrillator inside when needed) so it too needed to be sterilised and was out of commission for an hour, leaving us all very paranoid about the health of the rest of our patients. The patient’s loved ones were thankfully able to see him once the area had been cleaned, though they too needed to go through the rigmarole of donning PPE beforehand. Even during the arrest, one of the registrars was constantly forced to run to the door to ask for more supplies/background information, when only months ago she would have been able to delegate those tasks from the patient’s bedside. The fact that we’re all so unused to these new rules meant we were floundering more than usual, though thankfully the doctor in charge was direct enough to keep everyone right (something he later apologised for, though in all honestly we’d needed the kick up the arse).

With all the talk of lifting the lockdown and returning to ‘normal’, I can’t help imagining how much worse this situation would have been if the patient was positive. How much slower our initial response would have been because of the need to don full PPE before even going in to assess him. The risk to staff members in the vicinity associated with aerosol generating procedures during resuscitation. The horrible likelihood that his family would not even be able to say goodbye after he passed away. For many people this isn’t a ‘What-if’ - this is what is happening every day. People are dying alone by the thousands while their families anxiously wait for a phone-call to bring them news, rather than sitting by their loved ones as they should be. That knowledge makes the protests over the lockdown or talk of lifting it prematurely feel all the more ridiculous to me. You only need to log on to Twitter to see footage of people already gathering in crowds or breaking lockdown rules during VE day, and while I understand the frustration with lockdown, I really wish more people appreciated just how badly we need it. 

I know nobody following me needs to hear this, but *please* follow the official guidance closely and try to remain as safe as you can in the coming weeks and months. And in light of the official guidance getting vaguer by the day (with Westminster recently changing their slogan to ‘Stay Alert’ rather than ‘Stay Home’), please assume that it’s much safer to stay at home, rather than risk going out regularly under the assumption that everything’s better now. A second wave shouldn’t be made inevitable because of government incompetence.

....Aaaanyway, lecture over 😉 Hopefully the next installment (whenever that may be) will be a return to the usual shenanigans - I much prefer keeping these posts relatively lighthearted. And as it’s worth pointing out: things really are improving, slowly but surely. It’ll just take a concerted effort on everyone’s part to keep it that way.

[the-awkward-outlaw]

Second Chances

Chapter 1 - The Hunter 

 *Author’s note: This (and the first few chapters to hopefully follow) takes place a few months before the events of Blackwater

**Author’s second note: Please do not repost this! Please feel free to reblog or like! 

Warnings: blood, some swearing

You stare at the slowly burning embers of the mornings’ fire. The air around you is cool, but not unpleasant. You are close to the old cabin near Aurora Basin in Tall Trees, which is slowly being overtaken by nature’s embrace. You gaze around the area, watching as the sun stretches its fingers between the tops of the tall pines. The morning mist still clings to the land, but it’s slowly giving way to the warmth. 

You had been here for nearly a week. You had already entered the crumbling cabin and raided the furniture, coming up with nothing but an old pack of cigarettes and a can of baked beans. You had set up your tent not far from the cabin, enough out of the way from the view of the path that bordered the edge of the lake. 

You had grown to like this place. You were so used to moving around, never being in one place for more than a week or two. It was required for your freedom, your life. You didn’t regret what you did, not at all, although your past sufferings still haunted you and filled your dreams. They deserved it, those people, but the authorities, that idiot sheriff in Blackwater and his deputies refused to believe that you did those things to protect yourself, and to get revenge for what they did to you, so you had to stay on the run. 

It had been a year ago when you had taken justice in your own hands and made those horrible people, those who called themselves your family, face their own punishments for what they did to you. But you don’t like thinking about it, it’s too painful, and you still don’t understand why they did it, why they treated you the way they did.

You stretch your arms up, yawning widely. You definitely needed to go hunting today. The rabbit you had caught a couple days back was long gone, and the roots and berries you had foraged were getting low. All of your rations were getting slim, but the last thing you would do is wander into a town to buy food, not when you risked getting caught. 

You grab your tin cup and drain the last of the coffee. You stand up and go to the lake, rinsing your tin in its cool water. You go back to the fire and kick dirt over it, killing the flames. You approach your trusty steed, the only good link to your past you still had left. She’s a tall, long-legged buckskin American Standardbred named Rain. You had raised her from a foal, hell you held her head in your lap only moments after she had been born, still wet and steaming from the process. She snorts in greeting as you rub her beautiful face, stroking the white star on her forehead. You grab the bow from the saddle and check the arrows. Nearly a full quiver. Excellent. The forest is teaming with prey. You gaze at the lake, watching as a large rock bass leaps into the air to grab an insect. You wish you could fish in the lake, but even if you had a fishing pole, you don’t know how to fish. Just another thing you were never allowed to learn.

You head off into the forest, telling Rain to stay put. She goes on grazing, swishing her tail without a care. You tread carefully through the forest, looking for signs of life. Years ago, you had stumbled upon a camp of a hunter who had been mauled by a bear. He had a bow and a knife, both of which you had taken and which were still on your person now. You had taught yourself how to hunt shortly afterwards out of necessity. 

You step quietly through the trees, avoiding walking into bushes to make as little noise as possible. You look to your right and see on a wide pine tree the telling signs of a buck that had been rubbing its antlers. There, on the ground and caught in the rough bark, are the strips of velvet he had scraped off. You look around, looking for signs as to which way he went. You see beyond the tree a bush with several stems stripped of leaves, another sign that the deer had been this way, browsing. You go to it and notice the droppings, relatively fresh. He’s close. 

You see the faint slots of his hooves in the ground around you and follow them. After a few moments, you hear just around the bend of a large boulder something snorting and stomping. What in the world is making that noise?

You walk around the boulder slowly, arrow at the ready. Then you see it. The buck. His head is in between two trees that have grown close together, his antlers are keeping him prisoner between the trunks. It’s clear he was trying to rub the last strips of velvet away to expose the strong tines growing from his head. You think for a moment to shoot him, but you find yourself incapable of shooting an animal that is so helpless. You sheathe the arrow and pull the bow around you, situating it behind your back. You approach the struggling stag slowly, hands raised. He spots you and snorts angrily, stomping to tell you to get away. You’re close to him, if you wanted you could reach out and touch his sweating withers, but you don’t. You wrap your hands around his antlers tightly, his neck begins to writhe as he tries to throw you off. You can see the fear in his eyes, the whites ringing his irises. You give a powerful twist, freeing his antlers. You release him and he flees into the trees, tail raised high. 

You wipe your hands off on the bark of the trees. Some of the velvet from his antlers had come off in your hands, leaving them bloody. You grab your bow again and go off in order to search for other prey. 

After some time of searching, a rabbit scurries across the path in front of you. Without thinking or hesitating, you shoot it. It squeals in pain before it dies. You grab it and yank hard on the flesh, stripping it quickly and cleanly from the muscles. You put the skin in your satchel, it’s worth a few dollars if you can find someone to sell it to. You sling the rabbit carcass over your shoulder and begin to head back to the basin.

Along the way, while you retrace your steps through the thick trees, a small cardinal lands on a branch just above you and starts serenading the forest. You wish you could understand him. You’ve been on your own for the past year, only talking to people you were selling to. You silently acknowledge in that moment how lonely you’ve been, how much you want someone to talk to. But, you have to admit, the isolation has been a vast improvement over the company of those you left behind. 

The basin begins to peak through the thick trees, glistening its greeting to you. The sun is starting to set, turning the trees to fire. You stop for a moment and take in the view. You’ve been to many places in New Austin, which had its own unique beauty, although a little too hot for your taste. You had come to West Elizabeth in search of new hunting grounds where you could easily hide, and this was the farthest north you had been in a long time. It was far more stunning than you can recall from when you were a child. Or maybe you were just too young to notice. 

You approach the small pile of burned wood you had been burning your fire on this morning. The rabbit needed to be cooked now before it began to rot. You coax the coals, which are still warm, back to life. You take the crewd spit you had designed some months ago and skewered the rabbit to it. You wait for a while to allow the fire to become hot enough to cook on. 

As you begin skewering the rabbit to the spit, you get a feeling that something is wrong. The birds around you are still twittering happily, so it can’t be a predator. The wind shifts a little. You get a strong sense that you are being watched. You shake your head, trying to rid the feeling, as you place the spit around the burning logs.

For a few moments, the feelings of unease begins to lessen, although you still feel eyes on your back. Of course, no matter how many times you look into the trees behind you, your eyes find nothing. You go to rotate the rabbit when Rain suddenly snorts sharply and wickers, stomping her foot. You know your horse too well to know that she means something is wrong. You listen to her warning and hop up, rushing over to your tent and begin scrambling everything into a large pack. It takes less than five minutes to get everything packed up, you’re used to unpacking as few things as possible in case you need to leave quickly. You collapse the canvas tent and begin folding it when suddenly you hear something behind you. It sounds like a rush of the wind.

Seemingly out of nowhere, a rope wraps around your waist and your yanked roughly to the ground. You grunt loudly as your shoulders slam into the earth, and you begin struggling to get the rope off, your heart thundering in your ears.

“Not so fast,” says a gruff voice. Strong hands yank your hands behind your back and tie them tightly together, and then move down to your ankles. You fight as hard as you can, but the man tying you up seems to have no problem overpowering you. When you feel his hands leave your ankles, you turn yourself as much as you can, with some difficulty, to look at your captor. 

A tall, wide-shouldered man in a striped blue shirt with a black bandana tied loosely around his neck, and an old, worn out cowboy hat, stuffing the rope he used to bind you into a satchel, stands at your feet. His face is hidden by his dark hat, and you can’t help feeling a surge of hatred for this man. He’s a bounty hunter, no doubt. 

“Listen, mister,” you try to reason. 

“I ain’t here to listen to why you think you’re innocent or how I got the wrong person, lady,” snarled the man. He begins to approach you in order to pick you up. He whistles loudly, and you hear a horse trotting over, whinnying in reply. 

You know in that moment the game is up. The man has tied you too tightly for you to loosen the bonds and free yourself, and you have a feeling that there isn’t any use in trying to talk your way out. In a matter of seconds, your past rushes before your eyes. The pain those people caused, the unknown cruelty. The crimes you committed to free yourself from them. The last year, with all its loneliness. The fight leaves you, you decide that you want it all to be done.

“Fine, mister. Take me to Blackwater. Hand me to the sheriff and get your money’s worth. But, please, offer me one kindness.”

“I don’t know nothing about kindness,” he says roughly, finally looking at you. You notice his blue eyes, the light blonde stubble. If he had been closer, you would have noticed the scar on his chin. 

“Please, mister. All I’m asking is one favor.”

He sighs heavily, staring off into the trees. You begin to think he’s going to just pick you up and go on his way. “What is it?” he finally says.

“Take my horse with you.” This takes him by surprise, you’re sure he was waiting for you to ask him to let you go or something along those lines. You feel the need to explain in order to try and convince him. “She means more to me than anyone in the world, and she deserves to be offered a new life, a good one. She shouldn’t be abandoned here by herself to be eaten by wolves.”

He sighs again. “Fine, guess I can do that.”

He picks you up and slings you over his shoulder. You try to shift yourself so his shoulder will stop burying itself into your lower ribs. He hoists you onto the back of his horse, who seems to be a palomino paint. You hear him walk away, and Rain whinnies uncertainly. 

“Easy, girl,” he says in a surprisingly gentle voice. “I ain’t gonna hurt ya.”

She rumbles deeply in her chest, which you know means she’s getting her face rubbed. You hear his returning footsteps with thumping hooves and the sound of him attaching your horses reigns to his saddle horn. The paint horse shifts slightly as the man mounts up into the saddle. 

“Come on, girl” he says fondly, and you hear him patting his horse’s neck. Within seconds, the horse beneath you is cantering away from the lake. You look at what’s being left behind, the remains of your tent and the rabbit still burning away over the fire. What a waste. 

The ride is a rather painful one as the horse’s hindquarters thrust into your gut. You’re glad you didn’t have much in your stomach, you’re sure it would be making a surprise reappearance by now. The sun has set now, the only signs that it was ever present is the dark orange glow on the western horizon, but even that is slowly giving way to the dark blues and purples of the night. You lift your head as much as you can and notice the trees are thinning. You’re almost to Great Plains, you’re sure. You feel the horse slowing down to a brisk trot.

“You’re in luck, ma’am,” says the man, stopping the horse. “I ain’t gonna take you to Blackwater tonight. We’ll rest up first before I take ya there.” “Why not just keep going and let me get this over with?” you gasp, your gut heaving painfully from the bumpy ride. He huffs loudly. “‘Cause I had a rough night, need some sleep myself. ‘Sides, you should be thankin’ me. Yer last night under the stars, I reckon. Take advantage of it.”

He heaves you off his horse and back onto his shoulder. Your ribs protest at his shoulder again, but you make no noise. You won’t give this man the satisfaction of hearing your pain. He swings you down into a sitting position. “Now, don’t you try nothing. I’m doin’ you a favor,” he warns. Before you have time to ask what he means, you feel him cutting the bonds away from your wrists. Once your hands are free, he pushes your shoulder against a scraggly tree and wraps a thick rope around your waist, binding it from behind where you can’t reach.

“Thank you,” you say unhappily after a moment, massaging your sore wrists. He grunts in response, going back to his horse and starts pulling things out of his saddle bags in order to make his own camp. You ignore him as he lays out his bedroll and gathers logs for firewood, preferring instead to gaze at the stars winking above you. You’ve always loved looking at stars. You recall your grandmother, telling you as a child, how the purest people would become stars when they died and would be granted to run free through its purple meadows and dark blue rivers for all eternity. All you can do now is wish that what she said was true, and in a few days time perhaps you can meet her up there. You doubt it, though. You’re far from pure, and a place as lovely as that is not meant for a person like you.

“Ya know,” says the man suddenly, pulling you from your distant thoughts. “Fer a woman with a $500 bounty on yer head, yer unusually quiet and obedient.” His face is turned away from you as he gazes into the fire, holding a strip of meat on a knife over the fire. You can see engravings in the knife’s blade, and think you see the large round eyes of an owl among the marks.

“I know when it’s time to stop running, mister,” you admit quietly. You can see the fire reflecting in his eyes, but the blue in them is still obvious. 

“Ya ain’t my first bounty I’ve caught, miss. Only most people I catch, well, they either holler insults at me or try to bribe me or somethin’ ‘round those lines. And most of those people had a smaller price on their heads. So why you bein’ so easy?” He finally looks at you as he stuffs the cooked meat into his satchel. 

You’re silent for a moment, thinking about how much to tell him. Why should he know why you did what you did? You doubt he’d understand. After all, no one did. The only thing people seemed to care about when it came to your crimes was the fact you had killed those people, they never bothered to ask why.

“My life,” you finally answer. “Has been nothing but a pile of shit. I just ain’t never had the courage to end it myself. Believe me, mister, you’re doing me a favor by taking me back there. At least they’ll hang me, and I can be free.”

He continues to look at you with a strange expression. Was it curiosity? Or stranger yet, sympathy?

“I asked that sheriff down in Blackwater what a young woman like yerself did to get such a big bounty,” he says, his voice gentle, almost the way it was when he was greeting his horse. “He said you murdered yer husband, yer parents, and then burned yer parents’ house down. No offense, but you don’t look like the kind to kill yer family.”

“You didn’t know my family. I’d like to see anyone try to live with them and not end up killing them.”

The man falls silent and stares at you. You wish he would look away. Just please look away, you think. You’re used to people staring at you in disgust, in contempt, almost like you were an unwelcome slug they had to put up with. This look he was giving you was foreign. You break the eye contact, looking back into the sky. At least you have this one last night of freedom to stare into the stars, trying to spot your grandmother. The world around you slowly turns black as you begin falling asleep. Your last thought is that all of this will soon be behind you. One way or another, you’ll be free. 

[maximows]

Against the Odds - Chapter X

Half of McDonald’s menu,

MASTERLIST (mobile) AO3

Warnings: fluff and adult language

„What if it hurts?” I whispered, staring blankly into the wall. “I mean, I’m putting some stick up my uterus.”

Chris squeezed my hand and wrapped the other around me. “It’s about an inch long, very thin and much more comfortable than taking a pill every day. Also, you took a lot of painkillers and they’ll give you numbing meds, alright?”  

I decided to get an IUD as a new method of birth control, because lately I have been forgetting to take my pills with me and didn’t want an accident to happen. We had once spend almost two weeks in London and because I didn’t have my pills with me, Chris actually had to run to get a condom a few times, then eventually got a small box of them and that was when we noticed how much sex we are having.  

“Can we go to McDonald’s afterwards?” I asked, nuzzling my face against his bicep. “I shouldn’t eat junk food, I don’t want a break out on my face before the wedding…”  

“We’ll get the food and then I’ll make you drink enough water to get it out of your system.” He promised. “But we also have to pick up the rings.”

“Mhm,” I mumbled as I closed my eyes and leaned my head on his shoulder. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

“With the wedding rings?”

“IUD is much more permanent than pills, I haven’t thought about when I’d want to take it out and, uh, try…” I explained.  

“Put it in and don’t think about kids right now, ok? I’m fine and I’m going to wait for you to be ready and be as comfortable as possible until then. But please don't make wait until I’m 50.”

I sighed and smiled at him. “How are you so perfect, you sick fuck?”  

The doctor came out of her office and invited me in. “I know it sounds weird, but there’s really nothing to worry about. After it’s been put in, you might feel period like cramps for a few hours and it’s done.”

She put on her gloved and shoved me the object. “I know that ‘opening the cervix’ sounds horrible, but it’s not a baby, IUD is very thin and after I give you numbing meds, you won’t even feel it.”

I nodded lightly and sat on the hair. I wore a skirt and Chris' sweater, so it would be comfortable for her to access and so I could smell Chris' scent, which is soothing for me.

She put a cold gel around the area and waited some time before getting to work. “So, is it actually easier to get pregnant after taking out a IUD rather than after pills?” I asked.

“Definitely. Even with hormonal IUDs, they aren’t as invasive as pills. I’ve had patients who got pregnant during their first cycle after IUD.” She answered, already starting to do something around my crotch, but I figured she was just preparing me.

“Oh, okay. So, if I wanted to keep it for like a year and then take out, then even the hormones shouldn’t affect my ability to get pregnant?”

“Not at all, it doesn’t work the same way pills do. Technically, you could get pregnant right after taking it out. With pills, even if you forget one, it shouldn’t be a problem. You provide your body with such a big dose of hormones that it takes time for it to wear off completely,” she explained. “You might feel a little uncomfortable right now.

I felt something, like a pulling sensation, which I couldn’t really describe. I figured she was preparing me for the procedure. “Aaaand... it’s done.”

I opened my eyes and saw that she was actually taking her gloves off. “Is it, really?”  

She smiled and nodded. “Stay like this for a few moments. The numbing meds I’ve given you might make it a bit hard for you to walk now, so I’d suggest you wait a few more minutes. Also, it would be great if your partner could help you walk.”

“Oh, he wouldn’t leave my side anyway, so that won’t be a problem.”  

Soon she told me I was ok to go and let Chris in. He looked at me with a concerned face. Even though he kept calming me down earlier, he was probably more nervous than I was. “Are you ok?”

“Yeah, I didn’t even know it was happening, I’m alright.” I smiled and sat up on the chair in order to get up. Chris wrapped his arm tightly around my waist and tried to put all of my weight on him, but it felt like I was able to walk normally, so I wouldn’t let him.  

We walked slowly to our car and Chris opened the door for me. “I should’ve got a ‘brave patient’ badge’.” I said as Chris started the car.  

“I’ll buy you half of the McDonald’s menu for being a brave patient.” Chris smiled.

“Only a half of it?”

“I would buy you the whole restaurant, but I’m a hundred percent sure that in a month you would complain about not fitting into your wedding dress and blame it on me.” He laughed.

When we arrived at the jeweller’s, Chris hopped out of the car and went there to get our wedding bands. They had already been altered, so I didn’t have to go with him. I scrolled through the songs on my phone and played something. When I put my phone back, I looked ahead through the windscreen and saw a photographer taking photos in the distance. I sighed, putting my sunglasses on. The last time we were caught by photographers was the night before Chris’ birthday and that started a shit storm of people against both me and Stella. People were doing everything to find out if there’s any evidence of Chris cheating on her with me. It became so awful, that Chris had to stop having his daily checks of Twitter, because stuff about us was all over it. I actually asked Hannah to release a statement a few days after it all blew up, because I was so sick of the messages and e-mails.

“I have been asked by my client, Emilia Dawson, to release the following statement:  

I have never been overly concerned about details of my private life coming out, because I do like to share some of it with my fans and followers. Unfortunately, now I am forced to share some of the details as for the last few days I have been one of the main topics of conversation on social media platforms and media outlets and both my loved ones and I are tired of it.  

I met my partner in February 2014 at a party thrown by him for some of our fellow Marvel actors. I had only been a part of that cast for a few months and only knew a couple of fellow Brits there. We spent the majority of the next day together as well as the next few weeks, when we were able to take some time off from our commitments.

I am releasing this statement to deny some of the accusations that have apparently been made against me and spread by the media, without being fact checked.

Shortly after meeting my partner, I have been made aware of a break up he went through two months prior to our first meeting, which directly meant that he was a single man. There was also no way anyone had been living in my partner's house in February 2014.

If the rumours that are being spread have a an actual source, other than a very creative mind of a gossip site ‘journalist', I would like it to also release a statement citing reasons for why they would come up with lies like that and spread them.

As I am one hundred percent sure that all of this information is completely false, I would like to say that from this day onwards, every news outlet that shares any of this nonsense, will be sued. If (or when) I win the case, the money will be divided between animal shelters.”

Chris didn’t like the statement or me getting involved in this case at all. But to be honest, he didn’t have much to say – all of the articles portrayed me as a homewrecker and skipped over the fact that it takes two people to have an alleged affair. Although there were some people who wanted to ‘cancel’ him because of this, the majority only looked at my supposed behaviour and called me various names because of it.  

The statement and ‘suit threat’ worked – gossip sites stopped the articles and the only people that couldn’t let this go were some of Twitter users who seemed to just love drama. Chris had messaged Stella, asking to get involved and at least deny the cheating rumours, as ‘we all knew this isn’t true’, but she wouldn’t do that. He said that she was probably just petty, because he didn’t propose to her in the 5 years they dated on and off. More so, he never even suggested they move in together. And it only took him less than two years to propose to me. He always said that it was because it felt like Stella was a bit distant and she wasn’t treating their relationship seriously, so they were both wasting their time until a one day came and he decided that he’s had enough. In my opinion, she was just trying to play hard to get and it went a bit too far.

“I called you,” I heard Chris say as he entered the car. “Don’t tell me you were thinking about that thing again.”

“Maybe,” I murmured, looking down at my phone to discover 3 missed phone calls from Chris. “What did you want?”

“They had a few boxes to choose from and I didn’t know which one you’d like.” He explained showing me the dark green one he picked. “I thought this one would match our theme the most.”

I raised my eyebrow. “We have a theme?”

“We’re getting married in Norway, of course we have a theme.” He laughed. “So, is this one alright?”

“Perfect,” I smiled. “I think our relationship is having a great impact on your taste.”

Chris grinned and started the car. “I know it for sure.” He leaned in to kiss me. His lips captured my lower lip and I moaned lightly as his teeth bit on it lightly.  

“Don’t do that,” I whined. “ We’re supposed to last 4 more weeks without sex.” Chris ignored me and deepened the kiss, his hand travelling to my face to hold me closer.  

“That was your stupid idea,” He murmured against my lips. “The only reason I agreed to this is because you made it into a bet and I’m always willing to participate in a bet I’m sure I’m going to win.”

“We’ve been through one week of sex embargo, we can do 4 more.” I said, placing my hand on his chest and pushing him away gently.  

Chris leaned back on the driver’s seat and sighed. “We’re not even married yet and you’re denying the love of your life sex already.” He said jokingly. I knew he was kidding, because he was as eager to see the outcome of this bet as I was.  

I came up with this when one time were hanging out with our friends in our garden and Scott said that in the nearly two and a half years of our relationship  we’ve had as much sex as a regular couple would have during a lifetime. Somehow that has led to us coming up with the idea of not having sex for 5 weeks before the wedding, which is also the same time we waited until our first time.  

It went on and on for some time, until we arrived at the drive though at McDonald’s and I got busy reading the menu. “Baby, give me a maximum amount of items I can get or I’ll go crazy.”

“Ok, you can get 4 things and that’s including a drink and something sweet,” he said.

I sighed and chose chips, some double burger (because he didn’t specify the size) a cookie and a Coke. Chris quickly drove back home, so I could eat my junk there. Dodger greeted us happily and jumped around us, asking for some loving.  

We all laid down on the couch, in front of the TV. I had my comfort food on my lap and placed my feet on Chris'.  

“So have you decided on our honeymoon destinations?” I asked after stuffing my mouth with chips. “I know mine.” We decided to have a 4-week honeymoon and go to four places and spend a week in each one. Both of us were supposed to choose two places. “I bet it’s someplace cold.”

“Keep up the attitude and it will get colder.” I snapped. “We're going to Iceland and New Zealand.”

“Oh, that’s a jetlag nightmare,” Chris sighed. “I chose Italy and France.”

“That’s so cliché, hubby.”

For the next two weeks we were so busy with wedding preparations that we didn’t even have time for sex, so the bet turned out to be useless. Chris spent one week away in Atlanta, doing additional shoots for Gifted, while Claire and I took care of the finishing touches to the ceremony. We were supposed to fly in 2 days before, to see the preparations and have our bachelorette and bachelor's parties there. Although we invited around 50 people, not all of them were able to attend and the final number was about 40 guests. We rented a few cabins for them in a resort near the spot we were getting married in. Ours was a bit sedated just to make sure we had a bit of privacy for our wedding night.  

I have to say, I was starting to get a little bit nervous and everyone said it was because I haven’t seen the venue or anything, but that wasn’t it. I was nervous because I was getting married to the most eligible bachelor in Hollywood. The purest man of them all. The man who files in early for me, because he knows I’m not feeling well. The man who decides he’ll wait for me to be ready for children, even though he has already waited a long time. He’s changed so much for me and I wanted to repay him.

I knew he wouldn’t even dare to mention it, but I decided to change my name to Emily Evans. I was torn between this and Emily Dawson-Evans, but I figured that if we’re already causing such a stir in the media, we might as well start the Evans clan.

Chris joined me at the airport for our trip to Bergen. He was a little bit tanned from filming, with a new haircut and a groomed beard (although it doesn’t require much grooming). The producers were very lucky that it was a look he wanted to go with for the wedding.  

“Hello, my intended,” He grinned as his arms slipped around my waist to give me a welcome kiss. “How have you been doing this past week?”

He gave me a loving kiss on the lips and then pressed his lips against my forehead. “We’re one plane trip away from being married.”

“It’s a bloody long trip though,” I chuckled. “We’re leaving LA at 1PM and will be in Paris at 9AM European time, then 5 hours at the airport and another 2 hour flight. We’re gonna need to nap a lot.”

“Napping is my second favourite thing to do with you.” He joked.  

Even though we were never fans of this solution, we decided to rent a private jet in order to make the trip as comfortable for Dodger, as we could. We realised that we were spending so much money on the wedding then we might as well treat ourselves and have a nice flight alone to Norway.  

Although Dodger was quite used to travelling by now, he still required some attention during the take off, but was fine once we were allowed to unfasten our seatbelts. As soon as we could, we went to the bed. Dodger laid down next to me, while Chris was behind me squeezing me into his body. He pressed his face into my neck, inhaling my scent. “I can’t believe they’re going to take you away from me right before the wedding.”

“It’s so you can get shitfaced and run away while you still can.” I joked. “And so the girls can ask me about our sex life.”

“Which has been non-existent for the past month?” Chris inquired. “Just tell them that you can never walk normally after we have sex.”

“Why would I lie?” I laughed and my fiancé responded by biting me on the shoulder. “Let's sleep while we can.”

The noise of the engines actually helped us fall asleep, which meant we would avoid a massive jetlag in Europe. The stewardess woke us up before the landing, so we could fasten our seatbelts again. “Have I told you that I might be taking on a new movie and they’re asking me to grow out my hair and a real beard?”  

“You have a real beard already,” I said, imagining him with longer hair and instantly getting excited. “And I love that idea, you should say yes.”  

���Oh, that’s just a stubble.” He mumbled, scratching his hand against his facial hair. “I’m surprised you let me have a beard for the wedding.”

I turned from the window to frown at him. “The only thing I’m ever going to forbid is that stupid idea you had for a white suit for the wedding, honestly. I thought Lisa raised you better.”  

We arrived at the village and were guided to our cabin. All of them were wooden and so simple yet unique. I knew Chris loved them too and was excited about the idea of getting married here even if he didn’t want to admit.  

Before we could settle in there, we heard more cars arrive. Our guests were arriving from different parts of the world.  

The first ones to arrive after us were our closest families. We separated to help them put their luggage in their houses. I spent some time with my mum first and then with my dad.

While they were settling in, Chris and I met up to check out the venue for the first time. Chris came out from his family’s cabin. I waited for him as he walked towards me. He was wearing a plaid shirt, dark jeans and sunglasses. “That is one handsome boy I’m marrying,” I grinned and put my hands in my pockets. “Can’t wait until he has a wedding band on his finger, so other girls know he’s mine.”

He looked around and shrugged. “What girls? I haven’t seen any other girls in almost 3 years, it’s like they disappeared...”

“Oh, you always know what to say, don’t you?” I grinned and gave him a kiss on the cheek.  

“Yeah, I’m like that,” he nodded. “Now let’s see that wedding venue.” Dodger followed us closely and run around the field, sniffing everything.

I took Chris' hand and we marched up the hill. I saw a tree on the edge of the hill, which was decorated with delicate flowers. Its branches were low enough to make it look like some kind of an arch. It was surrounded with dark wooden chairs with flower stalks on them. “Oh God, Chris,” I gasped when I took it all in. “This is so beautiful, so simple... Can we just get married right here, right now?”

“I told you I wanted to elope as soon as you said yes.” he sighed and pulled me toward the tree. I took a closer look at the flowers and stalks and just the whole thing that really looked good altogether. “But I’m really glad we came here to do this.”

I noticed candle stands and flowerbeds waiting to be filled tomorrow. Claire joined us and showed some details. “I know you wanted the ceremony to start at 6pm, but I’d suggest you move it to 6:39, because the sunset will give us a perfect lightning.”

We both agreed. She moved us to the actual venue, which was a bigger cabin with only one, big room inside. All the tables were set already, the walls decorated with lights, plants and more flowers. It was so simple, yet thought through. The roof was completely covered with light that haven’t been lit yet. I was speechless.  

Unfortunately, we weren’t able to enjoy the moment for too long. Our party squad had arrived and they wanted to start our bachelor’s and bachelorette’s right away. We managed to put those off until the rest of our guests arrived.

When we went back to our bedroom, I noticed that our baggage had already been brought in. My dress was hidden in the wardrobe, while Chris' suit was out. Dodger was walking around behind us, sniffing every corner of the room. “Why is it not unlucky for a bride to see her groom's suit?” I wondered, touching the rich fabric of the Gucci suit. The team came in one day and took Chris' measurements to make him the well-tailored suit in front of me. It was black – I was rooting for dark blue, because Chris looks amazing in it, but they decided against it.  

“I have no idea, but it’s probably because men are helpless without women and need their opinions on everything,” he wrapped his arms around my waist and rest his head on my shoulder. “We’re getting married in 30 hours.”  

“Yeah, and they’re trying to separate us for the majority of the time we have left as an engaged couple.”

“We have to get though this,” he cheered. “If we got through 5 weeks of no sex, then we can get through this.”

I sighed, looking out the window and seeing Amy come closer to our house. “I still can’t believe we actually did that.”

Soon enough, there were two crowds of people in our cabin, waiting for us to separate. Neither of us really wanted that. We were a little tired and wanted to continue our nap. “If you don’t do this, we’re going to cancel the whole wedding, tell everyone you’re both crack addicts and can’t make your own decisions.” Sophie said with her arms crossed on her chest, keeping her threatening gaze on us.  

“Whoa, that’s rough.” Adam commented. “We just want to get him shitfaced, not ruin his life.”

Chris was still holding me tightly against his body. We honestly didn’t want to go. He was probably the only reason I was still quite calm, even though I was FUCKING GETTING MARRIED TOMORROW.  

“Guys, how about you give us 30 minutes, huh? We haven’t seen each other in a week and honestly fell asleep the same moment we entered the plane. Give us half an hour and we’re ready to go, alright?” Chris asked. They all agreed to give us some more time, so we laid down on the bed to get some more rest together. Dodger seemed to realise that we needed to be close to each other right now and laid next to Chris’ legs.

“So, if there something you’d like to tell me before we get married?” I asked.

Chris glanced at me curiously, probably surprised by the question. “What do you mean?”

I giggled. “Like, if you ever killed anyone and was too scared to admit it.”

He was visibly relieved and probably thought I was going to accuse him of infidelity or something. “No, nothing like that. I think you should know by now that I’m not like that.”

I turned to lay on my side and look at him. “I know, baby,” I smiled and pressed a kiss against his bicep. “That’s why I’m marrying you. Also, because of your big dick.”

Chris burst out laughing. “Yeah, I mean, good dick is important, right,” he admitted. “So, is there anything you’d like to tell me before I tie myself up to you forever?”

I sat up next to him and snuck my hand under his shirt to scratch he hair on his chest. “I’m changing my name to Emilia Evans,” I smiled. Chris also pulled himself up to face me. “I don’t know if I’m going to use it professionally yet, but I’m definitely changing it legally.”

“Oh my God,” he lit up and wrapped his arms around me. “But you said that you weren’t so sure about this.”

“Well, yeah, but I thought about it and figured that I’m not too attached to my last name and if it’s important to you, I want to do this.” I explained.  

“I can’t believe this,” Chris sighed. I smiled at his excitement and put my hands on each side of his face and pulled him in for a kiss. Chris licked my bottom lip playfully and tackled me down to lay under him. When I was right under him, he pulled away to look at me. “I’m still not entirely convinced it's real life, baby”

“It is, Evans,” I sighed. “It only gets better from here...”

I heard a loud knock on the bedroom door and we knew that our 30 minutes had come to an end. We were soon violently torn away from each other and brought to different cabins for the festivities prepared for us. Amy, Marie and Sophie were the ones who had me for the evening. Scarlett was supposed to join too, but she couldn’t fly in so early with her daughter.

Chris was kidnapped by Adam, Seth, Sam and Tom, who wouldn’t tell him or me where they were going, but I knew that Sebastian, Anthony and Hemsworth were supposed to join them soon.  The girls took me to their cabin, which was meant to be our party spot for the evening.

They were kind enough you hang balloons spelling “Fun is over” above a table full of food and colourful drinks. I noticed that they also prepared some games (obviously). “Emily, this is your last night as a single woman. Sit down and let us entertain you,” They sat me down and took a photo of me holding a drink and sitting under the balloons. “You can post it on Instagram when you decide to let the people know about your wedding.” Amy grinned.

“You can drink all you want, but for every glass of alcohol, we're making you drink a glass of water, so you’re not completely hangover tomorrow.” Mary said, handing me my first mojito of the night. “That’s us being responsible.”

They started off by saying how beautiful they think everything looked and were impressed by how much can be done without even visiting the site before the actual wedding. They all talked about how they want to get married too.  

“I think it’s weird that I never really thought of getting married before I met Chris. Like, I thought of having a fairy tale wedding when I had that crush on Steven in second grade, but I never thought I’d get married before the age of 24.” I took a sip of my drink through a metal straw.  

“Yeah. To be honest, out of 4 of us, I always thought that you'd be the last one to get married,” Amy agreed. “Not that you wouldn’t find a man or anything, I just though you were too independent for this.”

I tilted my head to the side. “Oh, he doesn’t affect my independence in any way. I was worried about that at first, before we talked about our future together, children and stuff, but now it’s all sorted out.” I explained. “I actually got an IUD last month, so he realises that having children isn’t only one missed pill away now, it’s one medical procedure away. He was fine with it.”  

“I’m glad then,” Amy smiled. “You’re strong, but him being 11 years older and stuff, I was afraid he’d maybe try to force you or something. Don’t take this the wrong way, but sometimes when they ask him about having children in the future during interviews, he sounds a bit desperate.”  

I laughed. “Yeah, he does. He really loves children, so I’m not surprised. I just got used to it.”  

“Does he have a breeding kink?” Sophie asked out of nowhere. I nearly choked on my drink and Mary froze with a mouth full of Cheetos. “What? It’s very common.”

“Sophie, that’s surely the most private thing you have asked any of us, ever.” Mary laughed.

“She told us about the time they tried anal!” Sophie yelled.

“Two times.” I corrected. “And I don’t think he has it or at least he’s ever done anything that would resemble it, but that would be kind of hot.”  

“Em, you should know, every smutty game we're going to play was her idea.” Mary sighed. “I’m only in charge of your answers for the newlyweds game.”

“And I’m charge of asking about how big his penis is.” Amy grinned. “You only ever said that it’s big, but that could mean so many things...”

“18 centimetres,” I answered quickly. “By the way, I really hope this isn’t our last night to do immature stuff.”

Mary shook her head. “Of course not, there’s at least 3 more bachelorette parties ahead of us,” she reminded. “And also, what the fuck!? He's 18 centimetres? How do you walk? Harry is 15 and I can barely... wow.”

“Ok, I think we've already established that Chris isn't only well endowed, but also skilled, so it’s not the matter of his length.” Sophie said.  

“Yeah, he’s... do you remember when I spent that night with ??? and I told you that there must be something wrong with me, because I felt nothing, and I literally mean nothing? Like, he was going down on me and I had to take every movement and sound I was making. I was so afraid of our first time with Chris, because it was not only us having sex for the first time, but also me having my first time at all. And it was just incredible, because I didn’t have to fake anything! I was moaning so much that I was afraid he’d think I’m faking.”

“I remember. And I told you that there’s nothing wrong with you, he was just bad at sex. Chris is generous on a daily basis, so he’s also generous in bed.” Mary shrugged, taking another drink.

“What’s the most times he has made you come during one session?” Amy asked.

I sighed. “Well, if he’s well rested and hasn’t been to the gym that day then I cum twice for his one time. If he goes down on me then it, you know, depends on how long he’s willing to do that... or when I start asking him to stop.”

“You have to ask him to stop!?”  

“Yeah, I get oversensitive sometimes.”

Mary sat back on the sofa, looking like she just found out that Santa Claus isn’t real. “You know, I was never jealous about your acting career, because we know that even if you earn more than decent money and have a month off, then it means you worked 18 hours a day for the last two. But for the love of God, you are less than 24 hours away from marrying a man who eats you out until you actually beg him to stop. I’m starting to get jealous.”  

“He has bad qualities too, you know,” I sighed. “He’s very indecisive and, to be honest, he was the one with commitment issues. We had a few months last year, right after we moved in together and before we got engaged when we barely talked, because he felt like we would get tired of each other too soon. Even though he was the one who suggested we moved in together.”  

They ran our of things to ask about our sex life, finally. Although, it was such a random conversation that I actually enjoyed it. They gave me some presents, actually showered me with them. “We have only just realised that half of them is sex accessories, sorry,” Amy shrugged, handing me another box. “Chris will probably enjoy them as much as you will, though.”

After my fourth drink and fourth glass of water, I was a little bit drunk already. “Do you think we will last?” I asked, laying down on the sofa, playing with the flowers in my flower crown.  

“I think Chris is glued to you like my father's nose to his TV.” Sophie said. “If you called him right now, he would be here in a second.”  

“There’s nothing you could ask him that he would say no to. Unless it’s a threesome, I don’t think he would want to share you.” Amy agreed.

“Yeah, but I mean... do you think we will be just another couple that divorces after 5 years? That’s probably what everyone thinks.”

“Who cares? You’re marrying Chris Evans, one of the hottest men on Earth, Captain America, with a big dick attached to him and a great personality, despite being a Gemini!” Sophie explained.  

“A big dick attached to him!” Amy burst into laughter. “That is the best thing ever!”

We stayed up until 2 am, when I decided that I was tired enough to fall asleep without bigger problems. They made me sleep in one of their rooms, so I wouldn’t run back and sleep with Chris.  

The moment I was alone, I texted Chris, asking if he was awake. He called right away. “Hi baby,” he said in a low voice.  

“Wait, you were asleep?” I asked. “You finished your party earlier than we did?”

“Baby, I’m 35,” he whined. “If I want to be alright for a whole day of preparations, a wedding, reception and the whole night of lovemaking, I gotta get some quality sleep.”  

I laughed. “Sure. I just called to check if you’re alright and not in Vegas by now.”  

“Nah, we had a few drinks and talked. Also, I’m ashamed to admit that we did play a few drinking games.”  

“Well, I forgive you. You don’t know any better.” I sighed into the pillow. “Are you nervous?”

“Like hell.” He admitted. “I can't believe this is finally happening. I can't believe it's already been a year since we got engaged.”

I remembered the day we drove to see Loch Ness and he just decided to drop on one knee. I can’t believe it’s been so long since that day. “I’m really glad you almost killed me at that airport.”

“Oh, that’s just exaggerating.”

We talked some more, but mostly just stayed silent, listening to each other's breaths. About an hour in, we decided we had to go to sleep. “I’ll see you at the altar, right?” he chuckled.

“Yeah, I can’t wait.” I turned to lay on to my back and stared at the ceiling. “Don’t be late, please.”

“Wouldn't dare, I’m counting seconds until I can finally see you, love.”

----

@daybreak96 @coffeebooksandfandom @smilexcaptainx @betinalunardi @rollinsuh @lily2089 @stella2445 @hy-pocrite @l0rd-disick @beholdoritou @klaussstilinski @achishisha @givenchymercury @just-trying-to-survive-marvel @henry-cavill-gossip-girl @rock-titties @bombsandsparkles @marvel-fan23 @cap-just-said-language @blackaestheticislife @justsomemarvelspam @nerdchester17 @shyofaspark @cssrogersse @crispyearthquakezombie @ultragalaxy @bit-of-a-timelord @kingofallthingsz @morguleth @calicokitkat @areelphony @gemgemswift @donut-crazs @dontchawishyouknewhowtosalsa @kandomeresbitch @deafeningpsychicpandahands @severely-theoretic @chmedic @patzammit @winterssoliderss @metalarmlover @saturnki @coolkimchijoy16 @sammyjammy92 @coolkimchijoy16 @peruvian-bae  @avngersx

[omegaling]

Allez Cuisine! ~Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Seventeen: Biscuits and Double Doubles

   The chicken in the hot skillet popped, and the only thing that saved Rey’s cashmere sweater from being ruined by flying globs of molton butter were reflexes earned from working with spitting meats, roiling hot broths and sauces for a living.  She glared at the offending pieces of poultry, still plump and pink and unassuming as they sizzled away. She already knew that wearing nice clothing while cooking came with considerable risk; she didn’t need to be reminded of it by her own dinner.

It wasn’t as though she didn’t have other clothes to wear.  However, it just so happened that all her casual day-to-day clothes were in desperate need of a wash (she hadn’t planned on doing her laundry until Monday, because who washes clothes while on vacation?).  So that left her to choose between faded sweatpants and over-stretched sweatshirts or the outfits she saved for more formal occasions. Since she had sworn long ago that the former was saved only for the comforts of home and in the presence of close friends, she had no choice but to wear one of her nicer sweaters and pair of jeans tonight.  It certainly had nothing to do with the fact that Kylo was coming over for dinner.

The same went for the hours she put into vacuuming and dusting the apartment and scrubbing the kitchen counters and cabinets until they gleamed.  It was just one of those things she kept putting off that needed to get done.

It was a little harder to make excuses to why she decided to shave her legs in late November, when it would be at least another five months before she wore anything resembling shorts again.

She didn’t even attempt to justify her choice to wear makeup, or in why she was wearing her sexiest bra and panties.

The watch on Rey’s wrist chirped the hour, and her grip on the tongs in her hand instantaneously tightened; Kylo was due to arrive at any moment. If she was going to be completely honest with herself, she still wasn’t entirely certain if inviting him to dinner was the smartest thing to do. True, he apologized about being an ass about her humble upbringing, but there was still that small, unsavory detail about their last face-to-face when she hurled his real name at him before she left.  The memory of the look he gave her before she walked out his door haunted her for days afterward. She had expected rage and shock and indignation, but what she hadn’t expected was… She couldn’t quite put it into words, but the closest emotion she could compare it to was fear. As though that by saying his name had consequences she didn’t understand.

Against her better judgement, Rey did a Google search for Ben Solo and was surprised to see that it yielded very few relevant results.  The top results were only a handful of articles from culture and entertainment publications, all of which were at least ten years old. When they did refer to Ben, it was only as a passing mention as the only son of Leia Organa and Han Solo, as though he was nothing more than an afterthought, or maybe a footnote.  There were even fewer pictures of him; just a few shots of a tall, gangly teenager with his eyes cast to the ground, trailing behind a smartly dressed woman who held herself with all the grace and confidence of royalty. In the captions, he was simply referred to as “Leia Organa’s son, Ben,” as though he were a mere accessory.  

Rey did come across some old interviews done with Han Solo when Going Solo was still being filmed, but those were even more disheartening.  While Han always told the journalist yes, he would love to take his family with him on his travels and that he believed the bonds formed on the open road were priceless, Rey wondered how much of an effort was really made in getting Ben on the show… or what discouraged him from ever bothering to try.

What Rey didn’t find was anything touching on the fact that Ben Solo and Kylo Ren were the same person: no gossip, no fansite conspiracies, no comment from some random bloke saying Kylo looked like someone they went to high school with.  Even sites like Twitter and Reddit were strangely mum for once. It was almost as if Ben Solo was phased out of existence, fading further into obscurity with each passing year, and for whatever reason, being reminded of who he once was scared Kylo something awful.

Rey’s grip tightened around her tongs as a wave of indignant anger welled up in her.  Though she had no evidence to back it up and no reason to believe it, she knew deep in her gut that Snoke was behind it.  How could he not? She did not know how Snoke managed to turn the son of his greatest rival to his side, but if half of what Rey heard about that horrible man was true, she could not imagine how deep he had his claws in Kylo to ensure remained loyal to him, no matter what.  The fear in his eyes was testament enough to that.

A knock on the front door nearly sent the tongs flying from Rey’s hand, her mind rapidly flashing “he’s here he’s here he’s here” like an over-excited teenager going on her first date before she reigned it in.  She had to make herself not sprint to the door, but instead to calmly turn the chicken over, confirm she was satisfied with the golden-brown hue it had taken on, then calmly walk to the entryway. Her hands had a small tremor in them, but that was quickly done away with by rubbing them against her jeans. By the time she opened the door, she was confident that she was composed enough so at least the night wouldn’t start on an awkward note.

Kylo stood in the building’s hallway, once again immaculate in a finely woven sweater, smartly creased pants and hair falling to his shoulders in soft waves.  In one hand he held a bottle of white wine, and in the other…

… a bouquet of sunflowers and yellow roses.

Rey felt her heart seize and stutter, regaining its normal rhythm just before it stopped completely.

Shit.  

So much for keeping the night casual.

It’s finally happened.  I’m turning into my father.

To say that Kylo had few fond moments of his father was an understatement.  Long before Going Solo was ever pitched to a network, Han had been a fleeting presence in Ben Solo’s life; at home only when he wasn’t off gallivanting around with Lando Calrissian or Tobias Beckett on whatever new scheme they cooked up.  Things would be good for a few weeks - Ben could almost fool himself into thinking they felt like a real family, and maybe this time it would stay that way.

Then the arguments would start.  At first they would be small, over things that should have been inconsequential, but soon they’d grow in frequency and intensity until his mother and father’s voices filled the house. Something would break, a door would slam shut, his mother would cry in whatever chair was closest for her to sink into, all the while Ben huddled in his closet with his hands over his ears, waiting for it to be over.  The next day his mother would try to reassure him that she and his father really did love each other, and that sometimes adults had issues they needed to figure out by themselves. Then she would throw herself into her work, leaving him largely in the care of nannies as she visited the trendiest new restaurants, made appearances at press events and gave interviews.  Or, she would simply shut herself up in her office for what seemed like days on end, working on her articles.

Then, after a month or two of hearing nothing from him, Han would reappear on the doorstep of their brownstone with a bouquet of flowers for Leia and a treat for Ben from wherever he’d been: Moon Pies from Tennessee, Garett popcorn from Chicago, maple sugar candies from New Hampshire. And, like a couple of idiots, he and Leia welcomed him back every time and the cycle would start all over again, when what they should have done was slam it in his face.

Rey didn’t slam the door on him, but the bewildered look on her face made the palms of his hands slick with sweat and his heart do a weird little stutter behind his ribs.  Had he somehow misread her texts? There wasn’t a lot of ways to misinterpret “come over for dinner” and “be here at six,” yet in that moment, as they stared at each other from either side of the threshold of her apartment, he was convinced there was something he got wrong.

“Flowers.”

Kylo blinked, the one word stopping his spiraling thoughts before they descended into full-blown panic.  “I’m sorry?”

“You brought flowers.”  Rey’s words had no tone or infliction in them, which meant Kylo had no way to gauge her reaction.  Was she surprised? Annoyed? Offended? Her eyes were so wide he could see the reflection of the bright yellow petals in them.  Kylo was known around the culinary world for his cuisine that awoke desire and lust in even the most prudent of diners, so people naturally assumed that being a Casanova in the kitchen meant being one in all aspects of his life.  If any of his peers found out that he was really as suave as an acne-ridden teenager out on his first date they’d laugh until they pissed themselves.

Suddenly Rey jerked as if something had jabbed her which - embarrassingly - made Kylo jump in turn.  “Oh, shit!” she exclaimed before dashing back into her apartment, leaving him to stand alone and confused in her building’s hallway.  He was just about to leave when he heard her shout “You can come in!” from somewhere inside her home. Sighing in relief, Kylo stepped into her apartment.

   Rey’s apartment that she shared with a roommate was exactly as Kylo pictured it (not that he dwelled on how she spent her time when she wasn’t cooking, thank you very much).  The modest space was filled with an array of furniture that looked to have come from second-hand stores: the cushions of overstuffed couch were frayed and the arms threadbare in some places; the surface of the coffee table had a map of old scars from coaster neglect that not even a fresh coat of polish could hide; a bookshelf filled with an array of Blu Rays, video games, and books, with framed photos and an assortment of trinkets and brick-a-brac took up what free space was left.  A candle burned in the center of the coffee table, giving off a subtle scent of pumpkin pie spice and cloves, and a lighted fall garland draped over the entertainment center gave off a warm, cozy feeling that embodied the holiday season. It was all so wholesome: relaxed and lived-in, where friendships were cultivated and fond memories created.

It was a stark reminder of how much Kylo did not belong here.  In Rey’s world: in her life.

There were personal touches and details throughout the apartment that hinted that its occupants were not typical 20-something college students.  All art hanging on the walls related to food in some form or fashion: vintage prints of French pastries, art nouveau green fairies, watercolor paintings of herbs, charts showcasing all the different varieties of sushi and pasta, and stylized baking utensils with short, motivational quotes such as “life is short, lick the bowl!” A smaller bookshelf situated between the dining table and the kitchen counter held not only an array of cookbooks ranging from horderves to Chinese cuisine by region, but also a number of chef autobiographies, books on culinary history, and stacks of magazines stuffed in the bottommost two shelves. The pots and pans that hung neatly from hooks on the kitchen walls definitely did not come from Target, and he knew for a fact that most people wouldn’t be able to identify half of the utensils and knives he saw at a cursory glance, much less know how to properly use them.

Rey was in the apartment’s small kitchenette, transferring golden-brown chicken breasts from a frying pan to a glass baking dish.  There was something different about her tonight; Kylo had noticed the moment she opened the door. It was only as she busied herself with dinner that Kylo risked a glance to determine what it was.  It did not take him long to figure it out: it was evident in the dusky pink sheen of her lips and the hint of smoky shadow on her eyelids and the tan cashmere sweater outlining the gentle swell of her breasts and hips, not obscuring them as most of her clothing did.

She looked nice.  Not just pretty as she always did in her casual, au natural way, but done-up nice.  Date nice.

Suddenly there wasn’t anything Kylo wanted to do more than throw the flowers into the nearest garbage can.  He could only imagine what Rey must have thought when she saw them. He had only grabbed them on a whim as an apology for being such an ass, hence their color (never mind the fact that the sunflowers made him think of her the instant he saw them). Then again, she had obviously put time into her appearance before he arrived, not knowing he’d be bringing flowers. Had she just been nervous about being the host for once and wanted to make a good impression? Or what if - like his flowers - there was a subconscious reason for doing what she did, and did not realize it until they were standing face-to-face?

When he was about five or so, Han nearly drove Ben insane with the age-old “chicken or the egg” debate.  Now, thirty-something years later, he was feeling much as he did then.

“Sorry about running off like that,” Rey said as she set the pan down on a cool burner.  “Nearly forgot I had chicken on the stove. Then again,” she added with a small laugh with just a touch of nervousness in it, “it wouldn’t be Maz’s golden mushroom casserole if the chicken wasn’t slightly overcooked.”

“No, it’s fine,” Kylo said absently, mostly because he wasn’t sure what else to say.  He did, however, notice the rest of the ingredients neatly lined along the countertop: several cans of Cambell’s golden mushroom soup, a bottle of inexpensive sauvignon blanc, and a bowl piled high with a mix of shredded yellow and white cheese.  An automatic rice cooker ticked away by the sink, occasionally emitting up puffs of steam. “So I get to try this infamous dinner tonight?”

“If you knew that’s what I was making, would you still have come over?” Rey was rummaging through one of her cabinets so her voice was muffled, making it nearly impossible for Kylo to determine her tone of voice.

“Of course I would have,” he answered, and he meant it.  Rey could have told him she was heating up TV dinners in her microwave and he still would have accepted her invitation without hesitation.

Rey emerged at last from the cabinet, a glass pitcher in hand.  “I thought I had a vase lying around somewhere, but I guess not,” she said, more to herself than to him.  She filled the pitcher with water, then motioned for Kylo to pass the flowers to her. He obliged, their fingers brushing as the bouquet passed from his hand to hers.  He immediately dropped his hand to his side as she arranged the flowers in the pitcher, flexing it and unable to ignore how his skin tingled where it had touched hers, even for that brief instant.

He was so screwed.

At a loss for what else to do or say at the moment, Rey offered Kylo to have a seat and returned to finish their dinner.  It wasn’t easy, not with Kylo sitting at her counter, looking almost too big for her modest-sized apartment. It was even harder to not show how nervous she felt.  The same hands that could de-bone a duck or french a rack of lamb in less than five minutes now shook so bad as she measured the amount of wine she needed to mix into the soup that some of it sloshed over the side of the cup she was holding.

(She was suddenly very glad she didn’t choose to make anything more complex, otherwise tonight might have ended with a trip to the ER).

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

Thankfully, Rey didn’t jump; if she had, then she would have showered the whole kitchen with a giant  handful of cheese. “Oh...um…” she stammered, thinking fast. “This is practically done, it just needs to go in the oven.  However,” she added quickly, “there’s a tube of biscuits in the refrigerator, if you want to get those ready. The baking sheets are to the right of the oven.  Unless you think that’s too many carbs with the rice.”

“I don’t mind,” Kylo said as he joined her in the kitchen.  “The war on carbs was a dark time in culinary history. I knew quite a few Italian chefs and bakers who almost had to close their businesses because their food was seen as ‘bad’ thanks to a few choice buzz words from companies pushing their low-carb products on people who didn’t know better.”

“And how can anyone possible refuse a basket of hot bread with real butter when it’s right there on the table?  That’s just not right. If there was such thing as a perfect food in the world, that’d be it.”

“I think I have to contest that,” Kylo said with what could have been a chuckle, but Rey couldn’t sure since his head was currently in her fridge.

“While you’re in there, can you grab me a Yuengling?  You can help yourself to one too if you’d like. I know you brought wine, but I figured we can save that for dinner.”

Kylo emerged from the refrigerator, a tube of Pillsbury biscuits in one hand and two green bottles dangling by their necks in the other.  He pushed the door closed with his elbow, then paused. Rey looked up from the oven as she pushed the casserole in, then froze when she realized what he was looking at.  It was a photograph of three Ghostbusters, one Stay Puft Marshmallow girl and a Sumerian demigod, inebriated and excited from having just placed in a costume contest. Rey loved that picture, even though she looked positively unflattering with her disheveled blonde wig and suggestively licking the blaster of her Proton pack.  She could only imagine what it must look like to Kylo, or what he was thinking seeing her with Finn and Poe. She did, however, hope that knowing she was friends with them outside of work didn’t sour the evening, but she braced herself for an abrupt end all the same.

To her surprise, Kylo only said, “That’s a good look for you.”

A laugh escaped her.  “Glad you think so. I was pretty hammered at that point,” she said, closing the oven door and standing up.  “I don’t even remember that picture being taken.”

“I could never get Phasma or Hux to do anything like that.  Well, maybe Phas if the conditions were right. Hux is about as much fun as an intestinal parasite, and he’d probably try to contract one just to get out of it.”  Kylo handed the beers over the Rey. She quickly popped off their tops with a bottle opener and passed one back to him, telling herself that she was not disappointed when their hands didn’t touch again.  “Do you spend a lot of time with Dameron and Trooper outside of work?”

“Considering Finn’s my roommate and Poe’s his boyfriend, just a bit,” she answered, hoping to keep her tone light.  Then, feeling a little bolder, she continued: “I’d like there to be a time when I don’t have to keep meeting you in secret.  That there’s some kind of neutral ground all of us can find. Not any time soon. Just… some day.”

Rey knew she was poking a hornet’s nest; Kylo’s shoulders instantly tensed, and a very long moment passed before he spoke.

“Someday.  Maybe. I wish I could give you a better answer Rey, but right now I can’t.  It’s...complicated.”

It’s Snoke and the leash he’s keeping on you, you mean, Rey wanted to challenge, but she was done testing her luck for the night.  She only nodded and said, “Someday is a good enough answer for me right now if it’s good for you.”  

Before they could lapse back into silence, Rey quickly changed the subject to more familiar territory.  “So,” she said, hoisting herself onto the counter on the opposite side of the sink. “You said you didn’t agree with my claim that bread and butter is one of the most perfect foods. What then, in your infinite gastronomy wisdom, is?”

“An In ‘n Out Double Double animal style, of course,” Kylo said, opening the can of biscuits with a wet, airy pop.  

Rey couldn’t help the astonished noise she made.  “Doth my ears deceive me? The great Kylo Ren’s favorite food is a fast food burger?”

“You’ve obviously never had an In ‘n Out burger,” he chided.  “To be honest, if you had asked me that same question a few weeks ago, I would have given you a completely different and horribly clique answer like I would for a magazine interview; just some fabrication of what people want to hear, and not what I really think or feel.”  He stopped placing the biscuits on the baking sheet and looked at her, his eyes so intensely focused that it took her breath away. “You changed that.”

Rey swallowed thickly, taking a sip of her beer to hide what that gaze did to her, inside and out.  “Oh? How did I manage to do that?”

Was it her imagination, or did his eyes wander down the length of her body, taking in the way her neck arched when she drank from her bottle to how her jeans conformed to the curve of her thighs and calves?  Rey never was very good at picking up on cues when people genuinely flirted with her, and she was even worse when trying to flirt with someone herself. Was she reading too much into that look, or not enough?  She barely managed to hold her shit together when he showed up on her doorstep with flowers, and now he was damn near looking at her like he had when he spoke of Hades and Persephone on Iron Chef America.  If he made any kind of real move…

Luckily (or unluckily; Rey wasn’t quite sure which) she wouldn’t be finding out, because he returned to the task at hand.  “Because you were right,” he continued. “People shouldn’t disown their pasts. Especially chefs. For most of us, our passions were born from the kitchens of our mothers and grandmothers, learning what was passed down to them from their grandmothers and back through generations.  Other chefs always return to that one defining moment when they discovered food was special. Important. That sharing the right meal with the right person can make it feel like all’s well in the world.”

Kylo’s voice grew so soft that Rey wondered if he was only talking to himself.  She wanted nothing more than to slide from her perch and wrap her arms around him, but she didn’t want to risk him withdrawing back into himself because of her unwanted advances.  When he didn’t say anything else, Rey gently prompted, “So which one are you? The pupil of generations past, or a single moment of epiphany?”

“It was a boy and his father sitting on a pier in Southern California, eating fast food burgers and watching the sun set over the ocean and seagulls fighting over dropped fries.  And the boy thought, maybe if he learned to make food just like that hot, greasy, wonderful sandwich, maybe the father would stick around for a change.”

Rey’s body moved on its own accord, sliding off the counter and crossing the kitchen to lay her hand on his: their first true intimate touch.

He wouldn’t look at her.

“Is that what happened to Ben Solo?  Is he still on that pier, waiting for his father to come back?”

She waited for him to answer, but the oven timer went off instead.

“I’ll go set the table,” he said softly, his hand sliding out from under hers as he moved toward the cabinets where she and Finn kept the dishes. Rey’s heart ached for him, but at the same time she could not deny that she also felt a little happy, as selfish as that was.

Kylo was opening up to her.  More importantly, he wasn’t running away.

For now, that was enough.

“How did you find out?” Kylo asked, passing Rey a dinner plate freshly rinsed of suds.

“It turns out that my foster mother knew your father from way back,” Rey said, accepting the plate and attacking it with her dish towel.  “Do you happen to remember Maz Kanata?”

Kylo made a noise that was somewhere between a laugh and a groan.  “Oh yes, I remember old Maz. And I can already hear what she’ll say when you tell her you proved me wrong about her cooking.”  Rey giggled, recalling how Kylo unabashedly accepted seconds of the steamy, cheesy concoction that he once deemed sounded “revolting.”  “Did she say anything specific about me, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Rey shrugged with one shoulder.  “Not really. Only that you were a scrawny kid and you need to call your mother,” she said, taking another dinner plate from him.  “But I’m assuming that’s another complicated issue?”

“Very,” Kylo agreed solemnly, and Rey took that as a cue that that particular part of the conversation was over.

“It’s funny, though, how things like that come full circle,” Rey mused. “Your dad and my mom were once friends, and now here we are, cooking for each other and washing the dinner dishes afterwards.”

Like friends.  Maybe even almost like a couple.

Kylo grunted in affirmation, scrubbing at the crusty cheese that ringed the baking dish.  The sleeves of his sweater were rolled up to his elbows, and fluffy soap suds covered his forearms.  Maybe it was the earlier beer and half a bottle of white bordeaux in her system, but Rey suddenly felt devilishly mischievous.  Reaching across the sink, she caught of blob of bubbles on her finger and then dabbed it on the very end of Kylo’s nose.

Kylo jerked back as if he’d been shocked, and the look he gave her was so incredulous that Rey couldn’t help but burst out laughing.  

“What was that for?” he demanded, hastily scrubbing the bubbles off.

“You’re just so serious all the time,” Rey said through her mirth.

Kylo turned away, but before Rey could wonder if she’d gone too far he scooped up a handful of bubbles and smeared it in her hair.

Rey practically shrieked and threw herself at him, armed with a softball-sized ball of bubbles.  Before she could reach her intended target - Kylo’s aggravatingly handsome face - he effortlessly caught her wrists and pinned her arms behind her back, her forward momentum causing her to crash against him.  

Rey’s breath hitched in her chest, which only made her more acutely aware of the way her body was pressed flush to his.  It was impossible to believe there was a time he was made up of anything other than knees and elbows, not when he felt like a living mountain against her own softer curves, his thick arms on either side of her efficiently trapping her. How many times had she imagined herself in a situation just like this with him, with the fingers of one hand curled inside her and the other on her breast as a cheap mockery of his sensual mouth? How would this night end if she rolled her hips into his, or if she pushed herself up on her toes and closed the space between their lips?  If the dark light in his eyes was anything to go by, he was thinking the exact same thing.

That was until he cleared his throat and released her hands, taking a step back.  “Truce?”

“Sure… Truce,” Rey agreed reluctantly.  “I can finish the dishes later. Do you maybe want to watch a movie or something…?”

“Actually, I should get going.  Vader is hosting its first major executive Christmas party this week and there are a few kinks in the menu I still need to work out.”

Rey hoped her disappointment wasn’t too evident as she walked him to the door.  He shrugged into his coat and put on his shoes, but as he reached for the doorknob he paused, looking back at her.

“Maybe after the new year and our schedules clear up we can do something together.  Something non-food related, I mean.”

Rey’s heart skipped a beat.  “You mean like a date?”

The tips of Kylo’s ears turned red.  “Yeah, I guess I do mean like a date.”

Rey smiled, causing Kylo’s ears to go even more read than before.  “I’d love to.”

Kylo took Rey’s hand and raised it to his mouth, brushing a kiss over her knuckles.  He thanked her again for dinner and left.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Rey raised her hand to her mouth and gently pressed her knuckles to her lips, breathing in the lingering scent of Kylo’s aftershave hanging in the entryway and wondering if, some day, the same scent would be left on her pillow too.

[loquaciousquark]

Talks Machina Highlights - Critical Role C2E28 (July 31, 2018)

Tonight’s preshow: a tiny tea set with two tiny teacups and a single saucer. Dani has tea with Pillow!Matt and later with Taliesin, all of which is adorable. Dani then beats Taliesin in a thumb war, which is every bit as delightful as it sounds.

Tonight’s guests: Taliesin Jaffe and Sumalee Montano.

Tonight’s announcements: Dani!cam is down tonight. Everyone has a moment of silence. Except her audio’s still working, so not that silent, I guess! Taliesin has selected Brian’s outfit for GenCon and describes it as “extremely extra.” Brian warns us we might need sunglasses, and Tal tells BWF that he’ll have his “product” by showtime. Matt’s Fireside Chat and NPC Build will be Tuesday, August 7, at 5:00pm PST. Marisha’s Honey Heist 2: Electric Beargaloo will be Friday, August 10th at 7:00pm PST. All the original cast will return to reprise their characters. Next Wednesday Club is Batman books without Batman, focusing on all the other characters and Gotham herself, tomorrow at 7:00pm PST.

CR Stats! Nila smelled her bag regarding five decisions: Ophelia, letting Champ smell the bag, going to find the cleric, going to find the Taskers, and placing her spirit totem. Molly had 25 nat 20s (most in the M9), 11 nat ones (least in the M9), 21 kills (most in the M9), and 7 HDYWTDTs (most in the M9). BWF: “He died doing what he loved: making Crit Role Stats records.” Molly dealt 711 points of damage and took 325, his most-cast spell was Vicious Mockery (23 times), and his most used Blood Hunter ability was Rite of the Dawn (22 times). Caduceus healed 24 points in his first appearance.

How Sumalee ended on the show: she’s friends with Matt since they work for the same agency, but she only saw it pop up on her timeline tangentially. One day, they were both working on the same cartoon and she wanted to say congratulations to him afterwards for this wonderful thing he’d built, and as he told her about the backstory and the world he suggested she should come on the show sometime. She wasn’t quite sure if he meant it, but she was super interested even though she’d never played the game before. He suggested she watch the show a few times to see if she’d be interested; the next day she giddily told her agent he’d invited her. About three months later, Matt texted her and asked if she wanted to be on the show. Prior to the meeting, she felt like she had to pitch herself--she read a ton of the PHB and the basics of D&D and everything--but when she showed up to the diner, he was ready for her character creation with character sheets and books and dice and everything. She was overwhelmed and delighted--even a month later, her excitement is tangible. I love her more than life itself. She points out he was very good at giving little flavors of each race that were not overwhelming for someone so new to the game.

BWF decides to rename the show The Firbolg Fireside.

@skinnyghost (Adam Koebel on Twitter) asks Tal, “Where’s my money?” Everyone laughs; Tal tells us Matt actually pointed out Clay looks a lot like Koebel right after they first saw the character art.

Tal picked a firbolg because he’d ever done it before and they have some very interesting racial abilities and stats.

Sumalee had decided between a dragonborn and a half-orc before Matt showed her the book with the firbolg. Both she and Tal loved the picture of the firbolg in the book--a “Jim Henson” picture. Sumalee never gets to explore this kind of character in her jobs, so she was glad to be able to explore something that resonated with her so well personally in the game.

Of firbolg, cleric, or Grave Domain, which called to Tal first? “Everything was done in a semiconscious blaze of insanity.” Grave cleric was the first thing to hit as he was going through the new supplements to the PHB. He liked the gothy feel and was very concerned that the character death would make the rest of the party “gunshy,” which is more cautious than he likes in his D&D games. He likes that this class is a “risk reduction” for the rest of the party. He feels firbolgs work well for this and that the Jim Henson feeling was sufficiently different from both Percy & Molly.

The smell bag was not an actual magic item. Sumalee wracked her brains for two weeks trying to come up with a way to reconcile her INT of 8 and her WIS of 18, since Matt suggested leaning into a low stat instead of rerolling. She needed something like a “gut check,” which showed a certain innate intelligence that felt right even if it couldn’t be explained. She first thought about tea leaves, but thought it still felt too intelligent; then she latched onto the powerful smell scent idea of the bag. She loved the idea of it always being the same items in the bag, but the smell changing based on the choice she wanted to make.

A light overhead goes out. After Dark is NOW.

Tal, glancing over Sumalee’s character sheet, is amazed at how well she rolled. She only has one stat with a negative modifier.

In the smell bag are nuts, berries from trees she’d helped save, bark from her tribe’s sacred trees, bones from animals that she had befriended and cared for until they died, a small portion of her firbolg baby’s dried placenta, and a variety of mosses.

Nila was in charge of the mosses in her tribe (I LOVE THIS) because it’s the easiest-growing thing to care for--her tribe didn’t think she could handle a job more exciting or delicate, so they gave her something they didn’t need to really rely on her for.

Tal did consider the fact that he would be the person the M9 would seek out to resurrect Molly, and mostly left it open as an option for Matt.

Nila’s calming presence is due to regular meditation. Prior to the abduction, Nila had the perfect calm, idyllic life--but the horrible nature of the kidnapping brought out a deep need and driving force that balanced out her idyll. BWF points out she had to maintain her ability to think rationally, because if she broke down now, she’d be of no use to her partner or her child. Sumalee likens it to the autopilot she went on when her mother died, even through the grief, since she was her family’s sole provider at the time and could not let herself break down or be overwhelmed.

@vonnie_bee wins GIF of the Week for two weeks ago. It’s a lovely little thing of Sumalee casually stating she’d like to eat someone’s face off.

Runner up is @crivensfeegle with the reacharound bit. Oh, Sam.

The winner gets a purple CR hat that will go on sale at GenCon and later this year in the critrole.com store.

Tal didn’t ask Laura about having a second cleric in the party, but as he revealed the details both Laura and Travis were really excited. (BWF says it’s like having a Mercy & a Zenyatta in the party at the same time; BWF reveals himself as a D.Va main. Glorious.)

Sumalee never expected to become all critters’ fir-mom, but is honored that she’s been basically adopted.

Tal says Caduceus is basically goth-Fonz.

Caduceus is in his mid-twenties in firbolg years. Time moves weirdly in that part of the forest, so he’s really unconcerned with the passage of time. “He’s deep in navel contemplation.” Tal thinks he and Matt agreed on him being somewhere between 80-100.

BWF is shocked and appalled that Tal is wearing matching socks tonight. Ditto.

Sumalee was conscious of a lot of “nature-loving” tropes going into the game that she actively tried to avoid in her portrayal of Nila. She specifically avoided the trope-y broken speech of Dances With Wolves, as well as an almost Southern-Midwestern accent that was her first thought, even though she’s from Ohio and it felt fairly natural for her. She just felt like she wanted to make something grounded, something authentic, and something that left people with positive associations. BWF feels no one’s resonated with the community so well since Sprigg.

Caduceus hasn’t been with the party nearly long enough to form opinions about any of them. He finds the whole party interesting...as well as the building they broke into, several trees and rocks, some flora they passed on the way.

Tal was concerned about bringing up both Molly’s and his own preconceptions to this new character, but has found it much more pleasant to be a “blank slate” and act surprised at every bit of reveal.

Nila had a tough time leaving the M9 to find their friends without her, since they helped her find her family and she felt like she owed them. Sumalee is glad that Beau gave her that out--as a mother, all she wanted to do was be with her son, but she also knew she could help the M9 better once she knew that her partner was healed and she was stronger. She also 100% felt better because they had a firbolg with them in Clay.

Sumalee was more nervous coming on the show even than she’d anticipated because Molly had just died the week before. She never thought her entrance would be at such a momentous point in the story. She channeled Nila to calm her nerves pre-show.

Sumalee and Dani were watching the battle with the Iron Shepherds together and both gasped at the terrible cold damage to Nott. “Utter shock. This--this can’t be happening.” However, she felt that it was a good meeting point between Nila and the M9, since they’d both lost someone precious.

Fanart of the Week: @ravennowithtea with this beautiful, beautiful thing of Nila & the M9 for last week, and for this week, @agonethetic with a lovely portrait of Clay in the foreground and Molly in the background arising from Clay’s shadow.

“Clay’s chill is pretty deep.” Tal remembers a local Buddhist monk in Pasadena with a great camera obscura collection and an electric cart. “He’s the chillest guy I ever met.”

Clay’s voice was “literally a voice that was not Percy or Molly. It’s the sloppiest character I’ve made in so long.” Once he saw the size and found the chill, he felt that sliding into the bassy “more badass Pumat” vibe would work best. He loved finding out what Sumalee was doing since it worked so well with what he was planning.

In Sumalee’s SURELY INEVITABLE return, she’s most excited about Call Lightning and Flaming Sphere. She primarily focused on her healing powers when she picked her spells for the day, but would like to do more exciting offensive spells next time.

Clay’s had his bags packed for four months, ready for someone to find him. In the meantime, he was starting to have dreams and visions of “something that had gone wrong,” but didn’t feel like he could navigate the cursed forest on his own. A few people had come by before but “hadn’t been the right people.” Clearly our murderhobos were just in time.

Sumalee was very worried they wouldn’t reach her son & partner in time. She’d asked Matt how to make her exit; he told her to follow his lead but be guided by the story. She’d hoped that they’d reach them in time, but wasn’t sure. She thinks if they’d gone back for the Taskers they wouldn’t have made it in time. Tal reminds us that Matt does keep an internal timer and taking too long would have possibly been dangerous. Sumalee was also worried in the moment that if the Iron Shepherds had heard the racket, they’d have deliberately tortured or killed her husband & child as punishment for invading before they could be rescued.

Caduceus is “another strain of Ren Faire” that has flavors of Molly in a slightly different wrapping. Tal was also raised by hippies and references childhood memories at the Lakeshrine Self-Realization Fellowship Center, which Sumalee helpfully tells us is the only place outside of India that has some of Gandhi’s ashes.

The easiest part of the game for Sumalee was just playing with her friends, since they made it so fun for her. The most challenging thing was that she felt like she had to learn D&D at the same time as everyone was telling her not to worry about the rules and to bend them as she wanted. Her advice is to not make it harder for herself; don’t learn the box--just sit down with someone who knows how to play, tell them what you want to do, and get one-on-one instruction on how to do it. “Find comfort in the fact that the people you’re playing with will lead you through this.”

Remember, the next episode airs at GenCon on Friday and an hour earlier! Hope to see some of you guys there!

After Dark: Already Dark I Guess Edition

Sumalee was much more comfortable playing a druid since she sat next to Marisha, who could guide her through it. The goodberries were the first spell that she used once Marisha gave her okay.

Taliesin remembers the delight of watching Travis slowly realize he could do anything in their first home game.

Broadcasting comes through to mismatch Tal’s socks for him. Bless.

Tal says that the tea-drinking, the Arizona tea can, and Tealeaf are all just a complete coincidence. (:thinking:) He came up with the tea-drinking intro about eleven seconds before he entered--he’d been backstage taking notes on what the M9 looked at during their tour of the garden, and as Matt described the flowers and leaves over one of the gravestones, he had the thought that the tea was something he could do. He also says that he didn’t mean them to be cherry blossoms on his armor; they’re actually a form of lichen that gets really neon pink and red. However, he fully encourages everyone to keep drawing him however they like.

Tal would have liked a month to come up with the new character. Part of his rush was that the artist had to come up with the design; he’d like to share some early iterations later if the artist gives permission.

Sumalee deliberately avoided giving Ariana Orner (their artist) descriptions of her armor out of fear of stereotyping herself, and was delighted with the Mongolian-inspired armor she came up with.

Sumalee’s been frantically trying to scroll social media to keep up with all the Nila fanart and gifs that she loved & hadn’t expected at all. Tal offers to share their Liam to help curate her new collection.

This past weekend was the first time Sumalee felt the “click” of why D&D lends itself so well to character fanart.

Cassius Clay beats Caduceus Clay every time. Caduceus is from an old work-for-hire script that never got picked up. This is the third iteration of the character (first an adaptation pitch, then a brief pitch script for a video game, and now the D&D game). “It only took a decade and change.”

Sumalee tells us that her young son has insisted on replaying the firbolg rescue scene several times, including repeating what the DM said at certain points and him pretending to reach his hand out of the cage. It’s adorable and I die again.

For Sumalee, D&D was like nothing she’d ever experienced. Voiceover lends itself well to it because there’s something of a theatricality to it when you’re roleplaying, especially since the world is so fantastical compared to her on-camera work. “It’s totally unique...and I love it.” She likes that the dice guide you even through the scariness of total improv freedom. There’s a little bit of guidance and direction and structure, but the play within that structure is very free. “This was...intense. It was a fantastic introduction to something I’d never experienced, never done, and I could see why people loved it...The entire outside world disappeared. It was intoxicating.”

And that’s it for tonight! Is it Thursday Friday yet?

[emeto-things]

My Emet Story

I’m going to try to make this the least triggering as possible. The reason I’m sharing this is to tell you guys you aren’t alone, and to maybe give you comfort in the fact I think/act just as “weird” as you do (:

I’m currently 15 years old, and to be totally honest, I can’t remember a day without emetophobia. My earliest memory with emetophobia is when I was probably about 6-7.

I was at the mall with my mom, sister and grandma and we all got coffee and a cookie and the cookies are pretty big, especially for a little 6 year old. But I ate it, and then my stomach hurt a little afterwards. I don’t remember being scared I just remember not feeling good. Then, we got in the car to pick up my brother and cousin from school and I think I was maybe drawing in the car? This was before I realized I had an issue with motion s*ness. So then I started to feel even worse - still not scared though. But randomly, I was listening to my mom and cousin’s conversation and my cousin said the word “g*” and I just remember I started breathing heavily and my heart started pounding and I clenched on to my sister saying “oh my gosh!!! I’m scared i’ll get s*!!!” Thankfully I didn’t, but when I got home I remember laying on the couch crying. That was the first memory I had of being scared of s*ness.

Then it kinda disappeared, I didn’t ever think about being s* other than when I didn’t feel good which is probably like most people.

Then I was about 7 years old, and it had snowed for the first time of the year. I was outside with my siblings and I ate a TON of it which wasn’t smart and apparently you aren’t supposed to eat the first snow? I don’t know if that’s a myth or not but either way I didn’t know it back then and my parents weren’t watching me. I may have even possibly eaten around where my dog had peed (Gross, I know). I literally made a meal off of snow that day. That night, I v*ed and it was my earliest memory of v*ing other than when I was much smaller and had another s*ness which I barely remember. But I wasn’t really scared then either, I just felt horrible.

As you can probably already tell, I’ve had emetophobic tendencies in me forever (the crying, rapid breathing, racing heart, and being scared) isn’t typical reactions people that v* have. But my real phobia didn’t start until 2011 when I was 8.

A normal flu (not v* but respiratory flu) was going around and my brother had caught it. I was sleeping peacefully one night in my bedroom that was dreadfully right next to the bathroom - so basically I heard everything that went on in the bathroom, pretty gross, I know. But the sound of my brother v*ing woke me up that night. I didn’t know what was going on but a strange fear took over me again, same as when my cousin said the triggering g* word. Obviously back then I didn’t know such a phobia existed, and I didn’t know my feelings over v* were abnormal.

I ran into my parents room and woke my mom up to ask her what was going on. She told me that my brother was purposely making himself v* because it made him feel better? I still don’t understand but that’s why. I just remember peering over my moms bed to see the light in the bathroom shining out the door as I was uncontrollably shaking. My parents thought I was overreacting a little bit but again, I thought it was normal.

I stayed up the rest of the night in total fear that it was going to happen to me. And the fact that he was making himself do it didn’t register with my 7 year old brain - I still thought it was a contagious thing even though it wasn’t. Then a few hours went by and my throat began to get sore. I had came down with the flu too.

My mom told me it was nothing to worry about because v*ing wasn’t a part of it and again tried to convince me my brother purposely did it and it wasn’t part of his illness. The whole time of having that flu, I was scared. Thinking any minute that I would v* too. Thankfully, my mom was right and it didn’t happen. After the flu went away I was back to my normal self, not thinking about v* ever.

Then in 2013 when I was 10, it started back. I was in the pool that summer and my mom came outside to tell my dad who was supervising me in the pool, that my brother had just v*ed and I remember jumping out of the pool and screaming and crying. I ended up calming down and then I was mostly okay again for a long period of time.

The fall of 2013 got really tough, I remember every time I’d get in the car I would become worried i’d get car s* which is something I never thought about before. I remember sitting in the middle row of the car just crying and whining that I was nervous of getting s*. My mom convinced me over & over that car s*ness doesn’t happen from just sitting there and watching out the windows but I didn’t believe her.

Towards the end of 2013 around Christmas time, I remember isolating myself in my bedroom telling myself over and over “I won’t be s*, I won’t be s*, I won’t be s*” and I was scared to take a shower because just being in a bathroom caused me to freak out.

I would take a shower every 5 days and being 10 almost 11, my hair would get so oily and I wouldn’t smell very good but I couldn’t bring myself to go in the bathroom longer than to pee.

I would take a shower with the door cracked open and my mom outside and I’d rush so fast to get out of the bathroom because I associated bathrooms with v*. Then my phobia kinda disappeared again.

Being 11 was probably my best age, I don’t remember the thought of v* ever even coming to my mind, I was a very happy 11 year old.

I was in an art class, I had some great friends who I hung out with a lot, I made a fan twitter account for my favorite band and I had a lot of online friends I’d chat with, i started editing videos of my favorite band and posting them to YouTube and overall had an amazing year. That all took a turn for the worst in 2015.

The end of 2014 I got my first period. My mom had never taught me about it, I had only heard a little bit from my sister and mom talking occasionally and from googling things when I’d be upset my friends knew about it and I didn’t.

My period made my anxiety way worse which as I said, I didn’t know ANYTHING about the affects periods have on the body.

And I finally got the hang of them around maybe my 3rd period or so, and I had learned a lot about them by then but my anxiety still worsened a lot around that time of the month.

In April of 2015, I went to my art class like I did every week. I was never in love with the class because my teacher was really mean to me but I stuck with it because I wanted something to do. Until one night I woke up feeling horrible. I remember immediately panicking but I somehow fell asleep during my panic attack only to wake up again only a few hours later and feeling even worse. I’m going to spare the details to avoid triggers, but eventually I ended up v*ing. And you’d think, afterwards I’d be like “wow I’m glad that’s over and now I can move on” but no. I knew that very SECOND that this was going to affect me the rest of my life.

I was so dazed. I couldn’t believe it had happened to me. I could literally feel the phobia taking over my body and that everything I would do would be affected.

The next day, I had a small stomach ache which I would usually ignore, but this time I had a strike of anxiety rush through me which was unusual. I ran to my room and hid away from everyone just crying and freaking out until the pain went away.

I then noticed I was overly focussed on bodily sensations. If my stomach had any feeling at all that wasn’t “normal” I’d freak out. If I had a headache, or my throat was tight I’d get scared. If I felt anything even remotely close to how I did when I v*ed I’d be so anxious I would cry and scream.

The summer of 2015 was really good despite my anxiety, it was very minuscule. My emet was with me everywhere I went but not to the point I couldn’t do anything.

In October of 2015, I had my first panic attack. I didn’t know what it was, but I thought I was going to have to go to the hospital. I also didn’t know anything about panic Attacks so I thought it was a once in a lifetime thing, I didn’t know they were a reoccurring thing. I remember sitting on the couch physically too weak to stand up because of how worn out I was from consistent panic attacks.

In 2016 I developed OCD, meaning I would touch doorknobs a certain number of times or else “I’d be s* that night” and I’d refold clothes until they looked “right” or else I would for some reason v* and it was miserable. I couldn’t even clean my room without getting worn out from repeatedly folding things or straightening my sheets and I would plug and unplug my phone which is really bad for it but my OCD told me to or else I’d be s*.

I also became very paranoid of germs and started limiting the places I went to and anytime I’d go anywhere, I’d be on edge for 3 days because that was how long it took to get s* with the sv* I had so I figured if I made it past 3 days id be fine, but those 3 day I wouldn’t do that much of anything because I was so scared. Certain foods also became an issue, eating eggs would scare me and as soon as I got done eating I’d rush to my computer and google symptoms of fp* and freak out and cry until the magical “6 hours” passed and then I knew I was okay. That was my life every day for a YEAR.

2017, my OCD got miraculously better which has to be a God thing because there’s no human way I did that myself, it’s like God took it away for me and I’m so grateful I don’t struggle without OCD debilitating anhmore!!!

But in 2017 my food issue because horrible. I restricted my diet to basically water, chocolate, granola bars, cereal and ice cream. Junk and more junk which in turn made me feel s*, but then if I ate a real meal with meat I’d be scared. I also started having horrrible sleeping hours due to panicking every night.

Currently in 2018, food is still my biggest struggle and I’m just now gaining back the weight I lost last year and it’s definitely still a struggle but I believe we will all get through this together❤️❤️❤️

** I can definitely relate to the fear of bathrooms. If I felt s* at all, I would avoid them as much as possible because it made it more “real”. I had some OCD tendencies as well. You’re so young and you’ll get over it just like I did!! Good luck <3 **

[titriwrites]

Scoop! - Chapter 12

A/N: Merry Christmas?! Honestly, I’ve got no excuse for not updating in like… half a year? Except for moving to another city, starting a new job, life and friends in general… I don’t know how fast these updates will be now, and this one is shorter than the others. But it came to me, and I want you to know that I still think of Tom and Jo. I know where this is going, and I will finish it. For now, enjoy!

Home Cooked Meal

It’s a fast food world, running and a-gunning Twenty four seven three sixty five, order it up and get what you like Yeah, it sure is something But here’s the deal, nothing’s real It’s a fast food world, dying for a home-cooked meal

Home Cooked Meal by Granger Smith

Jo didn’t know how to put her emotions and feelings into words. Well, in general she did; she was a journalist after all. But this was different. She’d made a mistake, and she knew it. Okay, maybe she did find a word: shit. She felt like shit.

She didn’t even need Eva’s disapproving tone on the other end of the line to know she acted horribly.

“That was a shit move,” her best friend had told her on the phone the evening after Jo had spent the night at Tom’s. “That was a massively very shitty move.”

Jo had sighed. “I know.”

“Do you, though?” Okay. Jo had already known it hadn’t been the best thing to do, but she didn’t need Eva to tell her the obvious.

“Of course, I know. I didn’t want to sleep with him, it just… it…”

“If you tell me ‘It just happened’ now, I’ll come to London simply to strangle you, Josefine.”

“But it did.” It was true. She’d never planned to do any of this. Sex was not in the game for her. But it felt so very, very good.

“You did want to sleep with him, though.” It had been that voice, that slight disappointment in it that had done it for Jo. She’d felt like shit, miserable, and like the biggest traitor of all.

“I did. But I shouldn’t have done it. I should have gone home.”

“Jo, I hope you know that I’m not judging you.” At Jo’s snort Eva simply continued on. “I’m not judging you for having sex per se. I’m judging you – rightfully so – because you had sex with him. You should not have sex with him. It’s bad enough stringing him along as it is. But with feelings involved? I know you, you’re not the woman who simply has sex. You at least have to find them nice. So don’t tell me, there are no feelings. I might have to kill you for that.”

Silence. If Eva had hoped, her rant would be met with more than silence she’d been in for a disappointment right then. Jo hadn’t known how to answer any of that. Eva was right, basically. But it had hurt a little to have it thrown in her face.

“Are you done?” was therefore all that she’d said. “Or is there anything else I already know to come?”

“Jo,” Eva sighed, “you know I love you. I’m watching out for you. This is getting way over your head way too fast. I’m not even sure that you should write that article.”

Jo had hung up then. A few hours later, they’d exchanged texts, telling the other how sorry they’d been, Eva again trying to find out who that mysterious man was. Of course, Jo didn’t tell.

And so, despite Eva’s warnings, Jo found herself in Tom’s flat again, three days later. He’d invited her to a dinner at his place, wanting a cosy night in, before there was the press night for Saint Joan to be gone to. A night where they would actually meet, though Jo wouldn’t tell him that. If he was clever, he could figure it out all by himself – a press night for a play would surely be attended by the culture news reporter of the newspaper.

So, they met at his place.

“I’ve missed you,” he whispered to her, as he greeted Jo by the door, before kissing her softly on the lips.

As much as Jo tried to stay sane, not going into giggly dating mode, Tom’s lips on hers did something to her. In fact, they did many things to her, butterflies in her stomach, increased heart rate, sweaty palms, just to name a few of the things. Oh, they also made her moan.

“It’s only been three days,” Jo answered as they parted a little, the smell of his cologne filling her nose, mixing with the smell of food. There were definitely tomatoes and meat somewhere in there.

“Well, I’ve missed you for three days then. You sure you have to work during the week?” he asked, leaning in, stealing another kiss from her. She let him do it a little too eagerly for her taste.

“I do have to work, yes,” Jo mumbled. “But it’s Friday now. You’ll have me all to yourself now.”

Finally – or not so finally – letting go of her lips, Tom took her hand instead and led her inside. “That sounds promising. We’ll eat first though,” he winked.

She slapped him playfully while following him inside. There the smell got stronger, but also ten times more delicious. “What are we having?”

“Besides the wine,” Tom started, pausing just for pouring two glasses for them, “we’ll have spaghetti Bolognese. Made it myself.” Jo raised her brows at the already more than half-empty bottle, and Tom chuckled seeing the look on her face. “Only used it for cooking, darling. I swear. I didn’t want to ruin dinner by getting drunk beforehand.”

“Wise decision,” Jo agreed before sitting down on the bar stool at the counter top. “So, Bolognese?”

“Yeah,” Tom answered and handed her a glass. “I got the recipe from my dad, actually. My mum says it’s the only thing he’s actually able to cook. She’s right. But it worked on her.”

“So, you’re trying to use it on me?”

Tom actually blushed at that. “Um, well.” The smirk was back in the next second. A quite impressive recovery. “Would it work?”

Jo laughed out loud. Despite the fact that she actually didn’t want it to work – really, she didn’t – she was a little curious to see what Tom could do in a kitchen. She knew that he loved to eat, she just didn’t know how good of a cook he could be. “I’ll tell you later, okay?”

By the looks of it, it did work out, Tom thought an hour later when all the plates were in the dishwasher (Jo had insisted on helping, only resulting in both of them trying to push the other one away, followed by a rather heavy make-out session), and they were sitting on his sofa together, each enjoying another glass of wine.

He could get used to that. Not that he wanted to scare her away by telling her that. They were merely dating, having had sex just that one time. It shouldn’t be that intense. But it was. It always was for him, that was his problem. The media frenzy wouldn’t have been that big over the summer, if it wasn’t often all-in for him. But again, he wouldn’t tell her that. At least not before the second bottle of wine, and honestly, Tom had other plans.

“So,” Jo started, and by the tone in her voice Tom wasn’t sure if he really wanted her to talk on. “I’ve been on twitter recently.” Well, he didn’t expect that one.

“Yes?”

“There are quite a few theories about you.” At Tom’s raised eyebrow she continued, looking up from where her head was resting on his shoulder – another thing he could get used to. “About your dating life.”

Tom hoped Jo wouldn’t feel his breath hitching. “I swear I’m not secretly dating Chris Hemsworth,” he tried to joke, but knew that he failed miserably.

“It’s not about Chris actually.”

Tom cringed. Yeah, he had a hunch. “Oh.”

“It’s nothing bad, really. I was just wondering…” Jo fell quiet.

Tom nudged her with his shoulder. She’s looked away again, but if it really wasn’t anything bad, she could still look at him, couldn’t she? “You were wondering?”

“People think it was Taylor with you in that restaurant on Tuesday. And I admit it feels a little strange. You know… being there with you, knowing the truth, knowing,” she blushed, “knowing what we did afterwards. And then having people think you used the service elevator to get in and out unnoticed. They’re kind of watching you like a hawk.”

He was silent for a moment. Huh. He always felt like this would be coming someday. Jo backing out because she realised that the paparazzi were too much. He just didn’t know it’d hurt this much. “You also said that you wouldn’t mind the paps. That… if it meant us being together, you wouldn’t mind having your picture taken.” He tried to hide the hurt in his voice, but even being a Golden Globe nominated actor, Tom wasn’t so sure he succeeded.

And he obviously didn’t, as Jo shot up from his shoulder, turning to face him suddenly. “No, no, Tom. I didn’t mean it like that. I meant… the fans. It’s so strange having people speculate you being with one person, basically carrying her out of your house in a suitcase, when there’s me sitting in your living-room after eating the greatest Bolognese I’ve ever tasted.” She stopped for a moment, then continued softly. “I don’t want this to be more than dating for now. And I don’t want to make any grant gesture or statement, that’s just not what this is at the moment. But I don’t want people to think you’re still with her either. If that makes any sense.”

He looked at her for a long moment, before a grin spread on his face. It was quite scary just how relieved he felt hearing Jo’s words. “I’m afraid I can’t make them think anything without literally snogging you out on the street. And even then there would be a bunch of them believing it’s all PR. Again,” he added. “But I really like hearing you talk like that.”

He cupped both of Jo’s cheeks with his hands, noticing the slight frown on her face. “What’s wrong?” Tom whispered.

“Nothing,” she smiled. “Absolutely nothing.”

The kiss that followed felt different. It was more and at the same time Jo held something back. “I really like you a lot, Jo. And believe me when I say that I’d much rather walk into a restaurant through the front door than taking the fucking service elevator.”

She laughed at that and nodded, her head still between Tom’s hands. He never liked her smile more than then.

Leaning in for a kiss he mumbled, “Will you stay the night?”

Jo nodded. And she did.

Tagging @devikafernando @itsliterallythis @justthelosersblog @avenger-nerd-mom @archy3001 @nuggsmum

[cherrynika]

It’s nice to see Alex again though he usually avoids former partners. It’s simply been long enough since their breakup that no trace of awkwardness is felt, simply a sense of familiarity. He’s more or less the same, having decided to keep the facial hair Jipyeong had always hated. It’s as sleazy-looking in real life as it is in the instagram photos he pretends he’s not scrolling through. That’s a pointless exercise that makes him wonder if he’d be more successful if he had chosen to stay in San Francisco, or if he’d still be the same person but with shittier fashion sense. It does, however, answer many questions that he’d like to ask (have you neutered Tim Tam yet, yes), prefer not to (are you married, 2 girlfriends and what was probably a sugar baby later, the answer is no), and never wondered (Crossfit is indeed life-changing; hot yoga gives you 10 more IQ points!).

Alex is cordial and professional at the Sandbox, offering Jipyeong nothing but a handshake before they sit down to grade the baby startups. But he lingers conspicuously in the meeting room after all the other judges leave. Jipyeong fingers a piece of his hair that’s come loose despite the pomade and waits.

“You look fluffier. Fatter.” Of course Alex’s first words are about his weight.

“I started eating rice again. I hated low-carb.”

“Rice or tteokbokki?” Alex smiles. “Anyway, it’s not a bad change. Let’s go to Gotgan. I have a reservation for 7pm.”

“You made a reservation for two?” Alex has always been overly confident, but that’s his charm.

“If you say no, I’ll ask Dongchun.”

Jipyeong considers him, looking almost exactly the way he did when Ms Yoon first introduced them 5 years ago. She’s always been able to look right into him and see what he wanted. As much as he respects her, he’s never wanted to tell her that her matchmaking attempt worked. Nothing he does today will have the tiniest effect on the future. All that’s in the past. All that’s waiting for him are Yeongsil and his big silent bed. So he gathers his notes into his satchel and fishes out the keys.

“Let’s take my car.”

“Let’s take the subway. It’s not far and we’ll probably get drunk.”

__

They stay sober. While getting drunk is fun, Jipyeong’s most regrettable moments (bar one that has surfaced intermittently for the last fifteen years) have all occurred when he was intoxicated (crying at a class KTV when Mrs Choi’s favourite song came on, dancing to Wonder Girls in front of a girlfriend’s parents). Staying sober is for the best.

Alex makes some noises about heading back to his hotel room. They both know he doesn’t mean it.

“I want to show you my new place,” Jipyeong says when they’re halfway there. He’s forgotten how private the sidewalks can be at night, cars on one side, the river on the other, blanketed in the dark. “It’s bigger than the one I had before I went to America.” Waves of headlights wash over them, illuminating Alex’s face before dipping them back into darkness. Everyone is rushing somewhere that only they think is important.

“I’d be surprised if apartments could be any smaller.”

“They’re always getting smaller.” Jipyeong jostles against him to avoid a woman on a bicycle. Alex puts his arm around him and doesn’t let go. In San Francisco this is what couples do. In Seoul they’re just old friends. Skinship, being a mentor, being a sunbae--these are all great excuses for what Jipyeong really wants to do. Even through two shirts and a lined blazer his body wants Alex’s body.

They walk in silence though the lobby, past the doorman whose chief qualification is knowing when not to look and float skywards in the lift.

--

“We have to take our shoes off, I just want you to know. You can leave them over there. Yeongsil, lights please.” The lights flicker on, Yeongsil is clearly having a good day.

“You know, I don’t let people wear shoes in my house either… That’s not Alexa.”

“It’s Yeongsil, it’s an AI speaker. It’s one of Ms Yoon’s more promising startups. It’s… more interesting than Alexa.” Jipyeong says, taking off his jacket and leaving it on the table. “It told me you were coming last week.”

“No, no, I told you that I was coming.”

“Yeah, but before I got your email. He tells fortunes too and he told me someone from my past was coming.”

“Everyday you meet someone from your past. And you shouldn’t let it listen to everything you do. It’s going to get hacked.”

“Astrology is in, everyone is going to love that feature,” Jipyeong shrugs. “Nothing I do here is worth any money, they can just hack my bank accounts.”

“You’re not paranoid enough for someone who works in tech.” Alex says, as he almost fondles Yeongsil.

“I’m actually trying to reduce my paranoia.” Jipyeong takes Yeongsil from Alex and stuffs him under the jacket. “Does that make you feel better?”

“No.” Alex continues to touch the other things in his apartment without permission. “Is every photo here of yourself? I know you don’t have family photos but that’s so vain. You should’ve kept some of the gang at 2STO or at least something to remind you of me.”

“The internet is filled with pictures of you. Anyway I still have the Grandpa Rudin you lent me, it’s more useful.”

“Did you really finish it?”

“I just wanted to know why everyone complains about it.”

“Well, now you know I guess. If you liked it don’t tell me.” Alex has moved on to the cardboard sign that proclaims Jipyeong the 2001 winner of the Inter High Schools Investment Competition brushing a finger over the scratch mark Tim Tam made on it before Jipyeong decided it would be safer in his closet. “I like the lamps. Are you into art now?”

“The seller had it staged, I just decided to buy it the way it was. I think it looks very cohesive.”

“So that’s why it looks like no one lives here. It’s like you don’t have any stuff.”

“No, I have the plants and I keep the EXO and Apink merch in the walk-in closet, it’s too personal to have it out here.”

“Red Velvet is better. I wish it weren’t so bloody creepy to be an uncle fan.”

Alex is still the only man with whom he can talk about Eunji and Kyungsoo and not feel dirty. He’s stumbled upon Dongchun’s Twitter (which is, in his own defense, a fascinating read) and knows too much about his deep love for TWICE. There is something a little unsettling about ajusshi fans, even if he is one himself.

“I think there’s something more interesting we can do here.” he takes the sign and puts it back on the top shelf. “I haven’t been laid in 6 months. I’m going to burst.”

“Couldn’t you have picked someone up at a nightclub?” Alex is smiling in such a familiar way; they both know this old dance.

“They’re full of university students.” Jipyeong says while helping Alex out of his jacket, which surprisingly, is only GAP. “You smell like metal.”

“It’s Sartorial, remember? From Penhaligon’s? It’s got that magnesium note.”

“You still haven’t finished it?” Jipyeong bought it as a gift while in London for him. It was so long ago, almost like a dream. He’s had dreams, whenever he’s been alone for too long, of undressing another person, but he can never remember what happens afterwards. The dream-person’s shirt has no smell, no trace of sweat. He slips Alex’s shirt off his shoulders. No undershirt as expected.

“Nope. I bought another bottle. It’s different from all the other man-perfumes. It doesn’t just smell like tonka bean.” He slips a finger over Jipyeong’s mouth, smearing his summer lip balm before dipping inside and scratching his gums lightly with a fingernail. “Your mouth is as lovely as you are horrible. Have you learned anything since we split up?”

“Test me,” Jipyeong says.

The only light in the bedroom is light pollution from the city below. It’s still more than enough to see by, despite the fact that Jipyeong’s night vision has gone to shit from more than a decade spent staring at a computer screen.

[this part not written yet]

--

He dozes off without meaning to and wakes up to the sound of engines. Alex is playing F1. He must have gone through his closet and found the playstation Jipyeong has been trying and failing to quit.

“You’ve got some very impressive beard burn on your jaw. ” Alex says as he overtakes Rosberg. He’s chosen the Singapore circuit. Onscreen the city is cloaked in darkness, the only thing that exists is a winding silver road and cars driving nowhere at 300 miles an hour.

He leans over and takes the controller from Alex, crashing into a Ferrari before spinning out into the barriers. “Are you bragging?”

“No, I’m just being honest.”

It’s a strange mirror of their early days when he would wake up to Alex on a coding binge, the clacking of the keyboard starting and stopping with his thoughts, the weak light of his laptop throwing huge shadows on the wall.

Jipyeong rolls forward on his belly; he wants to see Alex properly. “What do you like about Samsan Tech?”

“I like their engineering. Dosan’s incredibly talented. Their CODA algorithm builds on existing knowledge, and is an improvement on it.”

“And that’s your professional opinion?”

“What else would it be based on?” Alex fixes him with a look.

“Well. People say that you can’t be emotional as an investor. But how can it not be emotional?”

“Jipyeong. I’m excited in the way that I am when I see something beautiful. I wish you could see it too. I still can’t believe you’ve gotten so old without learning to read code.”

“I can code.”

“I don’t mean using OCaml to code a model.”

“There’s only so many hours in a day.” He rolls over and watches the dead light from the screen play across the ceiling. “I can always ask an expert.”

“I’m going back to America after Demo Day, you know. As fun as it would be to stay here and pretend we don’t know each other I have a job I have to get back to.”

“I meant other experts.”

“There are none like me.”

“Well. Talking to you is more fun.” He tangles his fingers with Alex.

“You’re not still posting loss porn on Wallstreetbets are you?”

“I just did. Lost fifty thousand on Apple puts.”

“You’re going to end up living in a corndog stand again.”

“Actually, I won’t. I didn’t tell you yet but I found her last month. She’s in a food truck now. So there’s nowhere I would go.”

“Can I meet her?” Alex perks up. He’s always loved a good story. “I want to know what you were like as a kid.”