#christ be normal for a bit!! talk about something that doesn’t make me wanna kill myself!

[gawayne]

ughh SORRY BUT I HAVE TO SAY IT the people you meet in engineering are just by and large so unpleasant I hate it here

[oh-surprise-its-me]

Roy/Jamie prompt: Roy gets dangerously sick with a bad infection and is hospitalized. Jamie is completely devoted to him, taking all care of him and running himself ragged. Roy realizes how much Jamie loves him and decides this infection can go fuck itself because he’s going to bloody fucking well claim his Tartt

Oh my god

(I definitely imagine them having a bit of a d/s dynamic at points so take that warning <3 )

Roy is pissed. It was a stupid fucking head cold and then it just kept getting worse and now he’s in the fucking hospital.

He’s on strong fucking antibiotics. Good to leave in the morning. His sister has been by twice to gently laugh at him, and Jamie is about to be murdered by his nurse because he won’t stop asking questions.

Next time Jamie paces by he grabs Jamie’s wrist and yanks him down on the bed.

“My nurse is going to kill you sit and be good.”

Jamie opens his mouth to say something so Roy decides to do the eyebrow.

Jamie closes his mouth.

But he slides a hand over Roy’s wrist. Innocent enough but Roy knows Jamie is checking his pulse even though the goddamn machine is very clearly saying Roy is alive.

It’s going to be a long night.

—

Roy is happy to be home. He can tell Jamie barely slept last night when he was forced to go home. Now he’s starting to make a third kind of soup.

Roy is weirdly into how much Jamie has been caring for him. He can’t believe Jamie sometimes. He knows Jamie loves him but these past three weeks have honestly really shown it.

“Jamie come here for a minute.”

He’s been forced out of the kitchen so that rules out the counters but the couch when’re Jamie has banished him to? Fully on fair ground.

Jamie slides in, literally. He’s in those stupid fuzzy socks, “yeah you okay? Need something? Hungr-?”

Roy yanks him down onto his lap before Jamie can start. “Hush. Stay quiet for a second fully fucking listen. My doc said I haven’t been contagious for about a week and a half now. He said I can do all my normal shit as long as I’m feeling okay.”

Jamie blinks at him from where he’s still straddling Roy. “Can I talk yet?” Roy brings his hands up and squeezes Jamie’s hips, he nods.

“We aren’t doing anything, what if you hurt yourself. I’m happy to kiss you, you obviously know that and I mean what does a doctor really know they can test their exam as many times as they need.”

Roy does the eyebrow thing again. Jamie blushes.

“I googled a lot.”

Roy moves faster then Jamie can anticipate, he flips them so Jamie is flat on the couch and Roy is over him. “Safeword now or I’m fucking you.”

“Roy no! You can’t you’re still sick??”

“Doc said all normal activities, this is normal. Can’t tell you how hot you caring for me is. Christ I love you.”

Jamie is red and twitchy. A good sign. “I love you too of course I wanna talk care of you.”

Roy leans down and bites Jamie’s jaw. He sucks and leaves a bit of a mark. He makes more. It’s fine. They don’t have any games for at least a month still.

“Then take care of me Jamie, let me have this.”

Jamie is gasping at this point, lightly digging his nails into Roy’s back. “Roy please.”

Roy pulls back. He grins up at Jamie, he just fucking won. “I’m fucking you over the couch. Get up bend over.”

Roy sits up with that statement. Jamie scrambles to get up, he glances back at Roy when he doesn’t move right away. When Roy does move it’s towards the kitchen. “No Roy wait-?”

“Safeword or stay there.”

Jamie quiets back down. Roy reaches the stove where he clicks off the stove and leans against the counter just looking at Jamie. God he loves him.

He’s going to fucking ruin him.

[orange-waterfalls]

Ouch

I cut my fingy and panicked a lot so here’s a quick not-at-all thought out thing about how some egos would react to s/o cutting their finger while cooking and it like isn’t that bad but they’re freaking out

1.4k words

Enjoy!

Markiplier egos with an s/o who accidentally cut themselves hcs

Darkiplier

He was in his study, just thinking, while you made dinner

He heard a tiny “ow” and didn’t think much of it

He then heard a louder “OW” and a string of “fuck”s and got worried

He entered the kitchen, to see you gripping your wrist and holding your finger under the water from the sink

He thinks you burned yourself

Then you pull your hand away and he sees blood and immediately makes his way over.

“What happened? Are you ok? How bad is it?”

You don’t answer as you are too busy hyperventilating because goddammit it HURTS

He tries to take your hand to look at it but you won’t let him

You look so hurt and vulnerable and he feels so bad

If you’d asked him to help cook, and he didn’t take it, he’d feel a thousand times worse

Eventually, he gets you to sit down and calms you, just a bit, and goes to get band aids

He comes back to you looking like you’re about to have a panic attack

He quickly stands you back up, and you put your finger back under the sink.

He gently washes it with soap and apologizes every time you make a noise

He gives you the bandage and lets you sit on the couch

You calm down and lean on his shoulder

He lets you sit there for a bit, rubbing your arm.

You eventually look up at him

“I think I may have overreacted.”

He’d laugh and kiss your head and goes to finish cooking dinner

Wilford

He wasn’t even home yet

You told him you were starting dinner and he left wherever he was immediately.

He was picking up wine from the store when you called him

“Wilford please get bandaids”

He was confused and a little worried, so he asked why

“Please just buy some and hurry home please” and you hung up

Now, Wilford is hardly a reasonable man as it is. so when he ran out of the store (without paying) and sped down the road in his car to get home before you, like, died or some shit, you shouldn’t have been surprised

He may or may not have run into a pedestrian or two on the way

He threw the door open when he got home, gun in hand

“WHAT HAPPENED WHAT’S THE DANGER”

You’re sitting on a chair in the kitchen breathing heavily, holding your finger

He can’t help but laugh because, christ, he thought it was something BAD

But, to you, it was bad. and he was laughing at you.

You tear up, just a bit. you’re feeling a lot of emotions right now.

He sees and gets worried again because is it worse than he thinks?? is there another injury??? are you traumatized what’s happening?

He tries to look at the cut but you turn away, looking very upset

He tries to convince you to let him see but you won’t budge

You’re whining a little (which I do because I can’t emote properly) which makes him upset

He drops to his knees and holds out his hands

“C’mon, baby! Let me see! Let me help!”

He’s being overdramatic and stupid and it makes you smile. So you do.

He gently kisses the spot, as to not hurt you, and puts a bandaid over it, kissing that too.

He orders take out and lets you lay on his lap while he pets your hair

Yancy

He was practicing some dance moves when he heard you in the kitchen

You were cursing and breathing heavily

Logically, he should know that perhaps you hurt yourself making dinner

However Yancy is a bit of a dumbass so he thinks someone broke in or something

He walks in with a knife, only for you to stand there with your finger under the sink.

He sees the blood, so concludes that you cut yourself. But you look really upset?

He’s mostly confused.

He’s been through worse, you’ve been through worse, he KNOWS you have

So why are you so upset?

“Why are you so upset?” “I don’t know!” “It’s not that bad” “I know...” “What’s the problem?” “I don’t KNOW!”

You start to cry, just a bit, and Yancy panics

He doesn’t know what to do. He’s not used to this!

He wants to tell you to get over it, but also he doesn’t?

Like, he knows it’s the easiest thing to say, but also not the BEST thing to say

So he says nothing. He gets a band aid, puts it on your finger, and hugs you.

He holds you for a minutes until your breathing is normal

If you tell him you don’t wanna cook today, he orders pizza

If you tell him you can, he’ll try to help

You have to kick him out because the man doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing

Illinois

He’s watching you cook and sees it happen before it does

Your finger isn’t in the right place, he saw you adjust

He tries to warn you but doesn’t do it in time

He winces because ouch

He processes what happened before you do, so he already has the band aids.

He turns the sink on, moves your finger underneath, and cleans it with soap

He puts the band aid on you and kisses your hand

He asks if you want to keep cooking or if you want him to cook

If you want to, he’ll help you with whatever you were doing first that made you cut yourself

If you don’t want to, he’ll finish what you were doing on his own.

He makes sure you’ve calmed down and holds your hand, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles

“Im being overdramatic...”

“No, you’re not. It hurt. You bled. You got upset. You’re ok now.”

He’s a very understanding and responsible man ^///^

Magnum

None of that goddamn crew can cook for shit, so you always have to

Mostly fish and vegetables you buy at different ports

Magnum and the others are just drinking and laughing when they hear you yell and curse from the kitchen

Magnum goes over to see what’s happening

He sees you holding your finger and goes to hold you

He’s very. protective, I’m gonna say.

“Oh, poor darlin’... are ye alright? Are ye ok? Awh, sweetheart...”

He doesn’t have bandaids, so he cleans a cloth and covers your finger

He makes you rest in your room (even though it wasn’t particularly that bad)

The other crewmates check in periodically to see if you’re ok

Magnum decides he’s going to cook

Yes, the ship catches on fire. No, he will not say how he did it

You have to finish dinner, otherwise the others are gonna kill themselves trying

Google

He’s recharging on the couch while you cook

He hears you curse from the kitchen and concludes you’ve hurt yourself

He doesn’t really see one injury as too much worse than another. they’re all bad

He knows what happens if even the smallest wound gets infected

He wants it dealt with quickly and efficiently

He walks up to you and grabs your hand, pulling it under the sink

He cleans it with soap, puts a band aid on it, and leaves

Dr. Iplier who, bitch?

He likes to sit when you while you eat, just so he can talk to you

You, however, don’t talk to him at all and he’s a little upset

He figures he was a bit too rough with you at first when he reaches for you after you stand up and you pull away

“I apologize for my methods, I wanted to make sure the wound was dealt with posthaste.”

“Well... I guess that’s a good enough excuse.”

You hug him, and he (hesitantly) hugs back

Bing

Probably the reason you cut yourself lmao

He enjoys bothering you when you’re busy

He hasn’t recieved his Designated Bing Attention Hours today and therefore you have to deal with a very clingy and annoying Bing

He’d be less annoying if he’d stop fucking TOUCHING THINGS but w/e

He bumps into you and you yell

He doesn’t realize that you cut yourself until you start cursing

He turns around to see you frantically turning the water on and gets very nervous

Shit, that was his fault? He did that? Fuck, you’re angry, aren’t you. FUCK

He leaves, immediately, and you have to deal with it yourself. 

He paces in your room for a bit, debating what to do

“Ok. Alright. What do people like. Phones? I could buy a phone. I could STEAL a phone. I could steal anything they want! Do people need graphics cards?”

He settles for walking back into the kitchen, apologizing, and walking back out

“nailed it”

You’re a little quiet the rest of the day, and he’s still nervous, but you hug him and kiss his cheek before you get ready to go to bed, so it’s ok

[hoe-doroki]

steel and lace

minors do not interact

warnings: 18+, anal play, sex toys, voyeuristic fantasy, scratching, creampie

pairing: bakugou x fem!reader

wc: 3.8k

summary: The only one who manages to get Bakugou’s birthday right is you.

a/n: This is my addition to the Bakugou Birthday Bash collab (masterlist). Many thanks to @lady-bakuhoe​ for helping me flesh out the ideas with this story!! You were integral to this idea, love! And additional thanks to @whats-her-quirk​ and @therealvalkyrie​ for beta reading <333

edit: I no longer write x reader but here’s my old masterlist - mobile | desktop

Bakugou never took work off on his birthday.

Never. Why would he? Villains didn’t give a shit that this was the day the old hag had unceremoniously had him evacuated into a hospital room however many years ago. They didn’t give a shit that his friends—who were also heroes who should be fucking working, by the way—wanna come over to his house and surprise him. As though his reconnaissance-trained ears weren’t as fucking fine tuned at hearing idiots on the other side of the door as theirs.

What villains should care about was that he was a year older, wiser, and fucking stronger, and he was going to kick all their asses. That was what he told all his idiot friends every year when they asked him if he was going to take off work.

Every year he regretted it.

The idiots he works with really must not care about hero work, because every year they want to send him out on a field post sugar crash from some store-bought cake with his name on it. Or buy him gifts that he’ll probably toss in the trash on the way home. He’s not being rude; he just doesn’t need junk that he never would have bought himself in the first place.

Everyone is always grinning at him, wishing him a happy birthday—as though he’s any goddamn happier to see their ugly mugs flapping their lips at him—and trying to start stupid-ass conversations. If he doesn’t like small talk normally, why would he want it on his birthday?

And the singing.

If people really wanted to wish him a happy birthday, they’d find a way to do it silently while doing some respectable fucking hero work. Make his day easier.

But no, none of that was what happened. So he should have just stayed home. Let the villains have a fucking field day on April 20th, and he could have his real gift killing them all tomorrow on the 21st.

But, unfortunately, he was a dumbass and had gone to work anyway, like he’d learned nothing from the last many years of antics. And the continued antics had got him a little pissy. And when he was pissed off, his heart rate increased, his breathing grew heavier, and, of course, he sweat.

Well. Guess what happened?

“Bakugou, I am currently paying to treat burns and fractures on three villains. Care to explain?”

Best Jeanist was sitting in his office chair, blinding sunlight streaming in behind him. Late afternoon sun—darker in color but way more resentful towards human eyes, apparently. It was reflecting off of all of the neighboring glass corporate buildings, making Bakugou squint behind his mask.

Bakugou shrugged, petulant as he stood behind his chair instead of sitting in it. “Overkill.”

Best Jeanist nodded. “Did you…lose control?”

“Tch,” Bakugou scoffed. As if he ever lost control. “Villains were weaker than I thought.”

Bakugou felt the stare of that one fucking eye and stood firm. He knew he was looking at a suspension, hopefully just for a day or two. It wasn’t like he’d done anything terrible. Villains got hurt sometimes, just like pros did, and they got their care and then they got their justice. It’s not like Bakugou was violent on purpose. Anymore. And Jeanist sure as hell knew that, so it wouldn’t take Bakugou off the field for more than a slap on the wrist. He probably wouldn’t even be technically suspended. Just chained by the fucking dick to his desk with some paperwork.

“Just…” Bakugou braced for it, narrowing his eyes but keeping his snarl to a minimum. “Just be more careful next time. Shower and go home—see you tomorrow.”

Bakugou’s jaw dropped. He closed it quickly, trying not to look like Dunce Face in front of his boss, but in all that was real and true what? He was just about to say something—he didn’t know what, probably something insubordinate—when Best Jeanist took out his own paperwork and waved him away.

“Happy birthday, Bakugou.”

Oh. So that was it.

Bakugou grit his teeth. Happy fucking birthday indeed.

It was nothing. His brain told him over and over again that it was fucking nothing. He hadn’t been punished, he hadn’t even really done anything wrong; he just hadn’t been squeaky clean up to fucking code. He could still show up for work tomorrow, business as usual. He should be tickled fucking pink.

But he wasn’t. Special treatment for being the birthday boy? What was he? Five years old and given a pass after stealing the chicken nuggets off Deku’s plate? Jesus Christ.

And if he was honest, he was mostly pissed at himself. Sure, he could blame how the weather always seemed to sprint from spring to summer around his birthday every year, strengthening his quirk. He could blame the villains for being weak enough that they had no business even stepping foot in his neighborhood. But losing control of his quirk even a little—and it had been a little—was fucking amateur and he’d have to pencil in some extra time at the gym. Maybe snatch Shitty Hair for some sparring, and, unfortunately, probably nab an extra therapy session and talk about this anger thing again.

At least walking instead of sitting on that stifling, crowded train car was doing him some good. Let him cool off a bit before he got home and you saw that something was wrong. He was nearly entirely relaxed by the time he got to his building’s lobby, even having the grace to nod at the concierge—who didn’t know it was his birthday, thank God—before heading up the elevator.

When he got off on his floor, it suddenly occurred to him that you might have done something truly repulsive, like inviting his friends over. He could imagine Shitty Hair’s shitty fucking hair sticking up from behind your sofa as he tried to hide before leaping up and yelling surprise.

Well, if that was the case, then the surprise was going to be him kicking all his dumb friends out of the apartment with one foot. Ain’t no way he was going to host a party on his birthday.

It turned out his worry was for nothing, though, because when he turned the knob—fully braced to punch out some teeth with his other hand—he was greeted with a totally bare apartment.

Like barren.

For starters, it was perfectly clean. Bakugou kept a tidy house normally, but this was certainly cleaner than he’d left it this morning. But more than that, there was nothing extra lying around. No stupid friends. No presents. No cake or even the smell of one. It was almost disconcerting.

No, it was a relief. A relief because he didn’t want any of that stuff. He’d had the slice of cake at work—and was slightly hangry now to show for it—and wasn’t interested in having another. And even though you’d choose better gifts than the extras at work would, it was nothing he couldn’t buy himself. So no, this was perfect. He was absolutely not disappointed. Maybe a bit confused. But not disappointed.

He took his shoes off and set his things on the small table by the door. Then he wandered into the kitchen, downed some water, and thought about what he might make for dinner. He might have expected that you and he would make dinner together or maybe even that you would have surprised him with something, but he didn’t mind doing it alone. It wasn’t like he’d learned to cook just to find a housewife someday to con into doing it all for him.

He decided to go to the bedroom first to plug in his phone. He was just sliding it out of his pocket when he opened the door, saw you, and stopped short.

You were on the bed—not in bed, but on it—wearing a black zip up with his signature orange x over the chest. You were on your knees with your legs spread wide, looking him dead in the eye with a deadly smirk on your face, painted in bright lipstick.

“New prototype. You like?”

The two of you had met when you were scouted from his parents’ business to design the clothing for his first merchandise line. He’d sworn off dating you from the beginning, because the last thing he wanted was to give the old hag anything to say about, firstly, her being at all responsible for finding  him a girlfriend or secondly, the fact that dating a fashion designer would mean he was dating his parents. He’d said fuck that to anyone who would listen.

But you’d gotten his brain from the beginning. Your designs were all sick from the sketch to mock up to the prototypes you always wore for him. Maybe he was a simple man for falling for a girl dressed in his colors, aiming to please him, but fuck it. You were talented, too smart for your own good, and pretty as hell.

So what? Now he had a dream girlfriend and one more reason to fight with his mom. Net positive for sure.

Still, that jacket wasn’t a prototype. That was from his first official line, no doubt, and he’d seen you wear it hundreds of times. He knew from here how much it would smell like detergent and how much like you.

You caught his eyes, raised your brows once, and then pulled the zip on the sweatshirt.

Underneath was nothing but lace and ribbon, contrasting the black and orange of the sweatshirt with moss green outlining your silhouette. The moss green from his gauntlets and his belt was caged around you in the thinnest strips of fabric, scraps of floral barely covering your breasts and pussy. The lingerie was an all-in-one, with the tiny bra connected to the panties by a few ribbons crossing over your belly. Not hiding a damn thing, but showing it off for all its worth.

“Fuck,” Bakugou groaned when the sweatshirt hit the bed, your arms still in the sleeves, but the look underneath now fully revealed to him. He could feel the blood going to his dick, just seeing you on display like that getting him up to half mast in seconds.

“Not a lot of coverage on this version,” you mused, sticking your thumb under a bra strap. “Maybe an edit for the second try?”

Bakugou growled, taking a step forward, but you weren’t done just yet.

“I was also thinking maybe full panties next time,” you said, turning around, sitting on your heels. The sweatshirt hung just below your ass, framing round cheeks that were caged by thin elastic crosses, and that was it. Not so much as a triangle of fabric to speak of. “Maybe write: Property of Dynamight on them? Or is that too much text?”

That was all it took for Bakugou to pounce. One arc of his fist had his shirt thrown with a smack to the floor and then his hands were on your shoulders, spinning you face up as he pushed you flat on the bed.

“You know I don’t like unnecessary words,” he growled.

And then he was kissing you, a hand running up the falke stockings pinned on your thighs as you pulled your arms out of the sweatshirt. One leg came up automatically to wrap around his hip, and Bakugou began rutting against your center, fully hard already. On his second grinding thrust, his pants snagged on the scrap of lace you were wearing. Wetness was already glistening on his trousers and he moved his thumb down to your core, groaning at what he felt.

“Crotchless panties?” he mumbled against your mouth. “You’re making this too easy, sweetheart.”

“Shouldn’t have to work so hard on your birthday,” you mewled.

There was a rumble in Bakugou’s throat, half scoff, half chuckle. “Yeah, remind me of that next year, will you?”

You were soaked already—the swipe of his thumb told you that much. Either you’d gotten really excited when he’d texted you that he was coming home early, or you’d…gotten yourself excited at some point after. Either way, it meant that foreplay could wait for round two.

He pulled his thumb away from your core and pressed it against your lip, smudging what lipstick had survived the kisses down your chin. You were half ruined already. You stuck your tongue out and licked at essence on his thumb before sucking it into your mouth, eyes wide as you looked up at him. Fuck, he could feel himself straining against his pants, grinding circles against your half-bare cunt for a spot of relief.

After you licked him clean, he took his hand back, leaving your mouth open and wanting as he began to fuss with the front of his pants. He caught your smudged lips again, holding your jaw with one hand as he pushed his pants down with the other. He pulled his lower half away from you, kicking off the pants—hadn’t bothered with boxers for the commute home—and let them slide off the edge of the bed.

“Ready?” he asked.

Your smile was big and you bit the tip of your tongue, nodding your head twice. That was all he needed. He grabbed his cock in his fist and slid it through your wetness just once, and then he pushed himself in.

Immediately, he felt the drag of something hard and angled against your lower wall right along his cock, pressing from tip to base as he slid home inside of you.

“Woah,” he groaned. “What the fuck?”

You giggled, the action making your walls flutter against him.

“Got myself a new toy,” you said coyly, wrapping your legs around his hips. “Promise you can get yourself something pretty on my birthday too.”

Bakugou reach a hand around your thigh, feeling the elastic garter pulled taut against the stockings that were rubbing so deliciously against his back and his hips. He grabbed a handful of your ass, and the tips of his fingers felt a rounded edge of warm metal slid just between your ass cheeks.

“You fucking naughty minx.” Bakugou grinned, showing all his teeth, rearing back out of you before thrusting back in, feeling the novel pressure of the toy on the way out and back.

No wonder you had been so wet to begin with. You must have lubed yourself up before putting in that butt plug—which wasn’t small, from what he could feel of it. He could imagine you, one leg up on the sink, ass sticking out as you fingered yourself, mouth dropping open when you inserted the toy. How cold it would have been when it first touched your pert little hole and how you’d gotten it all warm for him as you waited with your little secret for him to get home.

“It’s curved to hit prostates,” you gasped as Bakugou rocked hard, steady thrusts into you. “In case you’re interested.”

The thought, much to Bakugou’s surprise, sent a thrill right through his belly down to his dick. He couldn’t help but slam rapidly into you, making your eyes roll back. Fuck, was that something he wanted? It wasn’t something he’d ever thought about, and he didn’t have the mind right now to ponder it.

“God you feel so big.”

“You feel so tight, sweetheart,” Bakugou grunted, refusing to acknowledge the fresh heat that was on his cheeks after your previous comment. “Squeezing me from all sides.”

The butt plug left it so there was barely enough room in your pussy for his cock to pump in and out. The pressure was hard on one side, making him fucking twitch every time the head of his cock caught against it, leading him to opt for long, deep thrusts in and out of you. It was so good that he didn’t even care if the only present he got for his birthday was a little hunk of stainless steel halfway up your ass. He’d gotten home five minutes ago and already he could feel his balls tightening, threatening to bust a nut.

“Just think of it, Katsuki,” you said, your voice dreamy as he fucked you raw. “All the women wearing this set, thinking of you when they show it off for their partners. All wishing that you were the one fucking them. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, baby? But they’ll never have anything but their husband’s sad cock that they pretend is yours.”

“Fuck,” Bakugou growled, putting a hand on the headboard and nearly splintering it in his grip. You were riling him up and it made him want to press his palm flat against the burnished oak and let off his quirk, send shards flying. His hand was already drenched with more sweat than it should have been, just like with those villains earlier. Goddamn this time of year. He couldn’t help it; his quirk begged for it. He was in dire need of release of some kind, and it wasn’t like he could cum yet. He had to know how your pussy felt when it convulsed around him, ass cheeks tensing and squeezing that toy hard against his cock until he was spurting into you.

Bakugou let off a few crackling pops from his palm, moaning as relief filled him, the tension lessened for a moment. A faint smell of wood smoke spread through the room, slightly embittered by the resin blackening around his hand. One more scorch mark on the bed frame. You groaned underneath him, taken by the sight of Bakugou’s ever-tight control slipping for you. You knew he’d fuck you through the bed until the rest of the frame gave way if he wanted. You’d both be flat on a busted mattress and he’d keep going until he felt you clench around him.

“How’s that sound, Katsu?” you continued, your voice growing higher as Bakugou took his hand off the headboard and pressed four fingers, still sweaty and heated from his quirk, against the lace covering your clit. It was soaked through. “A-Ah, you’d like the idea of a woman home alone, dressed up just for you, fucking herself on the dildo she hides in the back of your closet, screaming out your name and hoping to God that her neighbors don’t hear?”

Bakugou couldn’t do the long, slow thrusts anymore. Your legs had grown tighter around his waist, your calves soft and silken against his ass as he kept his thrusts deep. The butt plug was rubbing against the base of his cock as he pounded into you, his fingers swiping over your clit with little finesse, but speed and steady pressure making up for it.

“But no matter…” you continued, the words coming out in little huffs as you panted with your head thrown back. Bakugou couldn’t resist leaning down and licking a line up the length of your neck, biting your earlobe when he got to the top, “no dildo, no matter how expensive, no matter how long and fat, will be good enough. The whole time…they’ll know they’re missing out. Oh, fuck.”

All of a sudden, your thighs were squeezing tight against his hip bones, arms thrown over his back and finger scratching hot lines that would mark him even more as yours tomorrow. Then you were gasping, walls squeezing and Bakugou fought against your grip to pull out just enough so that the metal toy was rubbing just over the cleft of his head with every convulsion.

He didn’t stand a chance. There was hardly any warning before he was cumming into you, streaks of his seed dribbling out of you. He couldn’t even pump himself through it; you were gripping him so tightly and, more than that, he didn’t want to move. Everything was white hot, so he just waited it out, barely moving save for where his hand was still rubbing over your clit.

Eventually you stopped him, grabbing his wrist just as the grip of your cunt loosened around him. Then you brought his hand, glistening with moisture, up to your mouth, and broadly laved your tongue from the base of his fingers to the tips, looking him dead in the eye. You then brought his hand down to your neck, and allowed him to streak the combined fluids across and down your décolletage.

Fuck—there was no way he was going to work on his birthday next year. He’d let villains overtake the city first.

“They’ll know they’re missing out,” you breathed, and it took Bakugou a second to figure out that you were continuing your voyeuristic fantasy from before, playing it out to the end, “They might even think they understand. But the only one who will truly know, is me.”

You smiled, your eyes and grin both heavy, sleepy, sated.

“Got that fucking right,” Bakugou said, pulling out of you, his cum already dripping down your ass. He eyed it, only catching a glimpse of the glinting metal plug before your legs fell to the bed, spread and limp. He smacked your hip lightly with one hand. “Roll over.”

In no mood to argue, you flipped willingly, ass up, plug still hidden from view. The lingerie was damp in some spots from where your wetness had spilled from your pussy. He leaned his mouth towards one of the strips of elastic stretching against the swell of your ass and bit. You gasped, back arching, and Katsuki smirked as he pulled away.

“A fucking lingerie line?”

A chuckle escaped your throat. “It was supposed to be a joke, but now…”

Katsuki pinched the elastic with his fingers and snapped it, watching the slight jiggle of your cheeks as you jolted. “No.”

“But Katsuki,” you whined.

“Mm,” he amended, as close to ‘maybe’ as you were going to get. You both could always talk about the idea—truly ridiculous idea—later. Katsuki put a hand on one cheek under the strips of lingerie and spread it.

There was the plug, a stainless steel handle. It was thin and shaped like an oblong donut, not like one of those cheap bejeweled things. This one, even just what he could see of it, screamed quality, and, for a moment, Bakugou wondered again what it would be like to wear. If you’d gotten it in, he sure as fuck could. And he did hold a certain anatomical advantage in using it.

He put his thumb and forefinger to the phalange and gave the toy a twist, pressing it just slightly deeper into your hole. You groaned, your voice low and deep in the pillow like when he gave you a back massage. He smirked and kept at it. Seemed this was a birthday gift for him after all.

“Katsu, don’t tease,” you moaned. “Sensitive.”

Bakugou, however, had no mercy. He flipped you over again, pulling a little yelp from you, and then picked you up bridal style, carrying you off the bed.

“Where are we going?” you asked, your voice suddenly much more awake.

“Shower,” he answered simply. He squeezed the meat of your upper thigh. Not quite your ass but close enough for the point to be made. “I’m not done with my present yet.”

[chuckbass-love]

Omg so hear me out! But I have an idea

What if just after a steamy moment between Chris and y/n he tells her that he has to do a sex scene with his co-star for defending Jacob and y/n instantly gets jealous and upset. So she decides to go sleep on the couch cause she doesn’t wanna see Chris right now due to the fact that he’d chosen the worse time to tell her about the fact that he had to pretend to fuck someone else.

And then the day he comes back after the sex scene he does to talk to her and he kissed her but she pulls away instantly and just says something like “How was she? Was she better then me?” And Chris is so baffled that he follows her up to their bedroom trying to get her to talk to him since he’s worried he’s upset her. Below could be his reaction to her question 🙈

Jealous

Hey love!! I love this idea so much! I really hope you love this because i always get a bit iffy wondering if people actually enjoy what i write for their requests. I’m sticking with the gif in the request. I’ve also changed a couple things with this though so yeah.

Also to the other people that sent in requests, i am working through them. They will be published throughout the next 2 weeks. i promise, sorry for slacking😬

Disclaimer: My work is not to be posted anywhere else other than MY Tumblr, Wattpad and Ao3 without my permission. However, reblogs are welcome.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Warning: Smut, angst, fluff. Basically the works. Oral (female receiving), fingering, language, insecurities and jealous behaviour.

Word Count: 2,373

GIF NOT MINE!!! Credit to @capsgrantrogers go check them out ❣️

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

“God i’m so glad that i’m shooting close to home so i get to do that with you every night” he pants as he turns on his side, his eyes meeting yours.

“Me too” you smile, softly at him. Your hand rests on his face, cupping it slightly as you lean in to kiss him quickly “talking of actually, there’s something i wanted to run by you” you raise a brow and motion for him to continue.

“See, there’s an intimate scene that i’m shooting tomorrow, i wanted to let you know beforehand so you’re not shocked when you see it on tv. It’s just a bit of kissing, we’ll both be shirtless and-” you don’t even give him the time to finish, you’ve heard enough for now.

“Wait, what? When did you find out about this Chris?” your annoyance is abundantly clear at this point, he sits up, letting you finish before he responds. “I only found out the other day. It’s not a long one, it’s a 10-15 second long scene and it’ll be over faster than it starts” you shake your head, getting off of the bed and heading into the bathroom to run yourself a bubble bath.

“But, why now? Why do you choose now of all times to tell me, Chris? It’s hardly the right time. You just finish screwing me and you decide to tell me that tomorrow you have to fake fuck another woman”

“It’s just Michelle, we need to, it’s for my job honey, i can’t exactly say no”

“Whatever, have fun i guess” you scoff, slamming the door in his face and locking it to stop him coming in. You need some time alone right now and a bubble bath should help to calm your angered state. 

You know it’s all just part of his job, it’s his career. Kissing other women is just what it entails but it doesn’t make it any easier. He has to do sex scenes and intimacy with other actresses. You’ve always been jealous but this time it’s the way he chose to tell you more than anything. 

You get into the bath, lying down and trying your hardest to relax your shoulders and your entire body but it’s no use, nothing works. 

On one hand you feel bad for kicking off and getting mad, but on the other hand you don’t care.

All of these insecurities and fears are all just about you being wary of him leaving you one day. Like what if... actually no. NO. You refuse to put yourself in that mind set. You’ve been going strong with Chris for 2 years now. He loves you and you love him. But right now you need to allow yourself time to be mad. 

Once you get out of the bath, you wrap a towel around your body and open the door. No sign of Chris until you start changing. That’s when he appears in the doorway, a look of worry and cautiousness. Like he’s not sure if you’re okay or if you’re still mad at him.

“I’m sorry” he finally speaks up after what feels like minutes of silence and tension “Chris, i’m tired okay” you feel so exasperated and exhausted. It’s not even just because of what happened, you’ve been working hard lately with your own career and maybe all the added stress has caused you to over react but even so, it doesn’t matter. You’re still upset. 

You finish changing before walking out of the room, he follows closely behind, wondering where you are going since It’s late.

“I’m gonna sleep on the sofa” 

“Please, can we just talk about it”

“Chris, seriously, let’s just leave it”

“But you’re avoiding me like the plague all because i have a sex scene to film. Like christ Y/N what do you expect me to do? Make a big deal and refuse, it’s my career” you jump at the way he raises his voice at you, he almost never raises it and what’s worse, he never does it to you. 

You take a step back before responding “it’s not just about that Chris. How would you feel if the roles were reversed? Huh? If i had just finished having sex with you and then blurted out ‘oh by the way babe, i’m going to be fake screwing another man tomorrow, no biggie, love you’” you mock. Not having a single care for how petty you must sound.

“Y/N i love you, i only love you. What is it about this scene? I’ve filmed plenty of them before and you choose now to suddenly say you’re not okay with me doing them. It makes no sense”

“Of course it’s going to make no sense to you, you’re not the one that’s sat back for years and watched it. You’re not the one that’s been insecure for so long and pushed away worries of-”

“Of what? Of me leaving you? You really think some fake sex scene is going to change how i feel about you Y/N? Do you really think that low of me?” you pause for a second, looking down to the floor and spotting Dodger. He looks from you then to Chris then back to you.

You feel tears brimming in your eyes, Chris spots it instantly as he steps closer, closing the space between the two of you. He leads you over to the sofa, sitting you down on it. He kneels in between your legs, holding your hands.

“Chris, i know you love me but i just worry sometimes that with me being what famous people call a ‘regular person’ that you’d be better off with someone in the same career as you, that’s all” 

He just sighs, turning away before turning back to you “I love you and that’s all there is to it Y/N. I don’t care about you not being famous, i hate that word anyway” your eyes meet his as your tears fall. He wipes them away, stroking his thumb across your cheek, in an attempt to soothe you.

“I hate fighting with you, please come to bed with me. I just want to cuddle with my girl before a long day tomorrow” you let out a small giggle, trust Chris to make you smile so easily even after an argument. It’s one of the reasons why you love him so much.

You just nod, not saying another word as he lifts you into his arms, carrying you to the bedroom and pressing kisses to your head. 

He lays you down on the bed before getting in himself, he pulls the cover over the two of you “I’m glad we spoke about that” you rest your head on his chest as he throws his arm around you “me too” another forehead kiss and you’re out like a light. He listens to your light snores as you cuddle him more in your sleep and he just smiles. 

Chris gets your frustrations and your worries to a certain extent. He understands how his life can get in the way, it can make you insecure. He’s an actor, you’re not. You’re not famous at all. It’s a hard thing to accept but he’ll make sure that from now on, he does everything that he can to make you feel good enough.

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

As soon as you wake and look over to Chris’s side of the bed, you realise that he’s no longer there. He had an early start with filming for Defending Jacob. So it’s not a surprise to you. Instead of feeling shit about the scene he has to do today, you pull yourself out of the funk, reminding yourself of the words he spoke to you just last night.

“I love you and that’s all there is to it”

He does love you. He won’t stray, you’re the only one for him. 

You decide to shower, to take your mind off of it for now. 

Once you’ve showered, you change and dry your hair before doing your makeup, maybe dolling yourself up will help? Baking is also on the agenda. He’s not back until 5pm today, an earlier finish than normal. The schedule isn’t as hectic.

So you decide that you’re going to make some dinner later, ready for when he gets back. Some chicken and pasta should do, along with a cold beer, his favourite drink. You flop down onto the couch, picking the remote up to turn Netflix on, you have some time to kill before your business meeting over Zoom. Might as well watch more Vampire Diaries.

Your laptop starts making a noise, signalling that the call is ready, you gather your notes before joining the meeting. Your face pops up as well as your colleagues. This can be your distraction for the next hour or so. 

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

You finish up with dinner, putting the lid on the pot and making your way to the table with cutlery and drinks, ready for when Chris gets home. He texted that he was leaving the set, that was 10 minutes ago. He’s at least 20 minutes away. So he won’t be long.

Whilst you wait, you sit on the sofa again and you pick your book up and decide to continue reading. 

“Honey” he calls out before entering the room.

Chris’s eyes fix on you, a soft smile and a look of adoration in his eyes as he walks over to give you a kiss. You pull away before he can though. His eyes scan your face for a clue as to what’s got you acting off.

“So, how was she then?” 

He sighs, loudly as he gives you a look that screams ‘really Y/N’ you mean it in a sarcastic way though, just like when you ask “was she better than me?”

All of a sudden you’re being tugged further down the sofa by your legs, your book is pulled from your hands and he’s lifting up your dress, exposing your brand new laced panties. You can’t help but feel embarrassed slightly at his unsubtle and rather seductive behaviour. You don’t think twice about letting him get on with it though. 

“Does daddy need to prove to you that you’re the only one for him?” a pool starts to develop, you shiver at this words and the freezing cold temperature of his hands on your bare thighs. He lifts the dress up a little more until it’s up by your chest.

He pulls you down further before his fingers hook into the panties, sliding them down and off so he can really examine you. You hear a low growl erupt from him as he licks his lips before then taking his bottom lip in between his teeth.

You whimper a little, the anticipation is all too much for you, watching him moan and groan at the sight of your soaked pussy. 

Just as you try to buck your hips up, his cold hand causes you to jolt as it pushes you back down.

“Down baby, let daddy make you feel good” 

And just like that, his tongue starts to lick you all over, his fingers circle your tight and needy hole, desperate for you to beg him before he plunges them deep inside of you. But words aren’t possible right now, you can’t even bring yourself to talk as he continues his assault on your sex. Licking, sucking and slurping. Even spitting on it before rubbing at your clit with his thumb, stretching it down as the rest of his hand holds you down on your stomach. 

“Fuck, Chris” you moan, realising what you said after. He prefers daddy, you know this. 

“Now now honey. You know that’s not my name right now, don’t you? I’ll let it go this time but i expect you to correct yourself”

“Sorry daddy”

“Good girl. Now, do you want my fingers baby?” you nod frantically, tugging at your bottom lip “yes. I do, please daddy” he shoves them into your mouth, letting you suck them until he decides that your poor cunt has suffered enough.

You hum against them before he finally removes them, wasting no time in sliding them into you, two to start off with and then a third is added. 

Your back arches at the extra addition and eventually that along with his mouth wrapped around your clit is far too much for you to handle. You’re so sensitive already, you can tell the climax is nearing. 

“Like this baby? Like my fingers filling you up huh?” he starts “daddy only has eyes for you princess, you should know that by now but i’ll tell you what. When we’re in bed later, i’ll prove it to you even more when i’m screaming your name as you make me cum” your walls flutter around his digits, making him smile even more, he enjoys watching you like this. 

He gets a thrill out of making your world spin. When your eyes roll back, when your back arches and your toes curl. Especially when you struggle to speak. They are the best times for him. He loves knowing that he’s the only one that can get you into that state.

His fingers get faster, dragging along your walls deliciously. His tongue flicks over your clit too, sucking occasionally and now your peak is just around the corner.

“Chris. Oh god Chris. I’m gonna cum” you yell, gripping onto his hand on your tummy, which he removes as he holds it above your head. Your hips start to buck like crazy.

“That’s it baby, cum for daddy”

The coil in your stomach finally snaps, thanks to his dirty words of encouragement. 

You don’t move, just lay there panting. Your heart beat is through the roof as you calm down after that intense orgasm. You’ve definitely needed that all day.

“I think we need dinner now” you say, sitting up and adjusting your dress but he just pulls you down so that you’re straddling him.

“There’s plenty more proof where that came from baby, so don’t think that was all” you feel your cheeks heat up as you suddenly go all shy. 

He’s most definitely proved himself but you can’t wait for round 2.

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

General Tag List: @deadlymistress24 @coffeebooksandfandom @chris-butt @holtzkinnon @mychemicalimagines @llamadelreyx @haus-of-bitch-talk @buckstaybucky @thewinchestergirl1208 @chrissquares @patzammit @adriannajackson @dummiesshort @cevans-fics @americasass91 @toni9 @aaliferouss @bradfordmyworld 

Just Chris & His Characters Tag List: @onetwo3000 @persephonequeenofthedead @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @rynabarnesrogers @princess-evans-addict @stxvercgersslut @chris-evanslover @bval-1 

[batfamspews]

Red Robin and Jason have been battling each other in an abandoned building for the past fifteen minutes and the fight ended with Jason victorious and Tim flat on his back on the ground. Both of them are bleeding and have several internal wounds.

Jason: *going to jump out of a nearby window* It’s been fun, replacement! Though I have to admit, I think you’re getting a little rusty. You used to be so strategic, but now you’re just pure chaos. I like the change but it makes you pretty easy to beat. Probably should start thinking things through again.

Tim: *deadpan, unflinching, staring at the ceiling*

Jason: *Confused because just a couple of seconds ago Tim was bustling with squirrel-like energy* Hey man, you good?

Tim: Yeah man just rethinking my life.

Jason: Ah. *goes to jump out the window but then hesitates and looks back at Tim. Not a single muscle in his body has flinched. Jason figures he had better stick around and keep an eye on him since he’s pretty sure he heard bones breaking during their fight and he wants to make sure he didn’t paralyze or give Tim brain damage.* You wanna talk about it? *goes and sits down next to Tim*

Tim: Eh, life sucks, you know? Fight all night, work all day, study. I’m supposed to be the smart one, right? What if I can’t keep up? What if I crack and lose it? What if someone smarter comes along? Besides, I can’t help but feel like I’m just ticking every one off.

Jason: *surprised but slightly amused that his straight-rod, genius brother would have such a poor opinion of himself* Heeeey, come on, little Red! You don’t suck that much! I mean, I do get sick and tired of your virtuous crap every once and a while, hence me beating you to a bloody pulp right now, but you’ve got a good head and heart! What’s making you feel so down?

Tim: …

Tim: Tried to make supper the other night. Alfred got food poisoning. He’s still in the hospital.

Jason: So you’re guilty?

Tim: *smiles* Yes but that’s just a part of it. I’m in charge of making my own food now, but since I’m scared that I’ll poison myself I’ve only been drinking a concoction I made up a while ago that I know won’t kill me.

Jason: Yeah? What?

Tim: Iced coffee made with Red Bull instead of water.

Jason: …

Jason: ……. .. . …

Jason: That sounds disgusting

Tim: It absolutely is.

Jason: How long has this been going on?

Tim: About a week?

Jason: ??? And that’s all you’ve had?

Tim: I mean, I ate some Nachos last night and I have an emergency stash of pop tarts in my room that I finished off the first two days.

Jason: ???????

Jason: AND YOU DONT EAT OUT WHY???

Tim: *shrugs* The Red Bull iced coffee gives me energy. Kinda sucks though because I crash when it wares off and have another identity crisis. I should really get some more before the tremors.

Jason: CHRIST TIMOTHY I THOUGHT YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE SMART???

Tim: You know, there’s a line between intelligence and wisdom- oh crap here they come. Totally jinxed myself.

*Jason stares in disbelief as Tim’s whole body starts shaking. He start to say something but Tim- doubled over in pain- holds up a hand to make him wait. The tremors stop after a few seconds.*

Tim: I should probably grab some more coffee or something before that happens again. You wouldn’t happen to have an energy drink on you, wouldja? I’d get some myself, but I’m pretty sure you broke something in my leg and it hurts to move it.

Jason: For the love of God, Tim, you need professional help. Call Bruce to come pick you up???

Tim: I don’t really feel like talking to Bruce right now. I don’t want to get lectured again.

Jason: …

Jason: Fair enough, but I’m not leaving you here like this. I may not be an exceptional brother or anything but I’m pretty sure it would be considered child abuse if I let you torture yourself this way.

Tim: *laughs* you just broke my bones and beat me into submission.

Jason: you were being annoying.

Tim: And besides, Bruce doesn’t stop me.

Jason: IF YOU THINK FOR ONE SECOND THAT IM GOING TO LET YOU PUT ME ON THE SAME LEVEL AS THAT MAN THEN YOU ARE DEAD WRONG. *Basically picks Tim up*

Tim: ??? Where are we going?

Jason: TO MY APARTMENT SO YOU CAN GET THE PROFESSIONAL CARE THAT YOU REALLY NEED.

Tim: Bruce is gonna be ticked. I’ve still got another hour on patrol.

Jason: IF YOU THINK FOR A SINGLE GOSHDANG MOMENT THAT IM GOING TO LET YOU STAY OUT HERE WITH A BROKEN BONE AND CAFFEINE-INDUCED SEIZURES THEN YOU ARE DEAD WRONG!

Tim: I don’t wanna tell him that-

Jason: GOOD BECAUSE I DO. HOLY COW, TIM, ARE THE OTHERS AS BAD OFF AS YOU ARE?

Tim: I mean? Dick’s been out of town so I’m gonna assume he’s doing fine. The Kents have invited Damian’s vegan butt into their household until Alfred recovers. Pretty sure Babs, Steph and Cass are surviving on hot pockets and chicken nuggets.

Jason: NOT MY GOOD GOOD GIRLS! That’s it, you’re coming home with me and are not leaving until you are fully recovered. I’m gonna call the girls too. Tonight you four are going to have a round, home cooked meal. *carries him down the stairs* Geez, kid, you’re skin and bones. On no accounts should you be this light. And you look like a zombie! Is this just the malnutrition, or are you not sleeping either?

Tim: I mean, I’ve passed out a couple of times…

Jason: TIMOTHY DRAKE WAINE

Tim: The caffeine made sleeping virtually impossible, though now that it’s wearing off I do feel a bit drowsy…

Jason: Normally I would not give an idiot like you the permission to rest while I’m helping them out but for the love of everything that is holy, Timothy, go to sleep!

Tim: Dope. *immediately passes out*

Jason brings Tim to his apartment and puts him on the couch. Jason already has a nutritious vegetable and beef stir fry ready for the girls when they arrive. He’s also made broth that Cass spoon-feeds Tim when he wakes up shaking. They’ve all turned off their coms, so when Batman desperately calls Red-Hood’s home phone for help, Jason tells him what a horrible father he’s been lately and that even a problem child like himself would make a better parent. Cass, Steph and Babs leave after supper, but have agreed with Jason to eat lunch and supper at his place until Alfred got back. Jason called Nightwing up, told him the situation and asked him to come back to Gotham to deal with Bruce. The next morning Jason brought Tim to the hospital to get an X-ray done on his leg. When they found out it was fractured, Jason arranged for a very exhausted but thankful Tim to stay at his apartment until it healed, even when Alfred recovered. During that period he was able to break Tim’s eating habits and introduce him to healthier options. According to Jason, “I might be a ‘danger to society’ and a ‘homicidal maniac,’ but at least I can make a half decent home cooked meal for my poor starving siblings!”

[frxggie]

Can you do a request where Tamaki, Todoroki, and Aizawa (for Aizawa the reader is a TA for class 1-A) getting hit by a quirk that clones them? The side effect of the clone is it reveals how the real version of themselves feels about the reader, the clone becomes super clingy and you’re just standing there like 😊. While the real version of the clone is dreading their existence and also lowkey jealous that their clone is getting all of your attention. And everyone is just smirking cuz they know why the clone is acting that way. I hope this made sense? Sorry if it didn’t but this has been on my mind all day.

yeah! sorry this took so long i’ve been really busy with school!

i decided to do a separate story for every character because i didn’t quiet know how to fit them all in one so yeah

i hope i did this right i’m sorry if i didn’t

for the aizawa one you both are teachers at UA

for the tamaki one you’re both year 3s at UA

for the todoroki one you’re both first years at UA

Your quirk is “Weapon” which is basically where you can make any weapon of your choice appear and your body itself is kind of a weapon meaning that when you’re hit it’s harder to hurt you/ when you hit someone else it hurts them more    

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

                                                    Aizawa

Goddammit!

There were villains at the USJ again. Fuck. You and the other teachers at UA rushed over to the USJ hoping there weren’t any students training there.

You threw the doors open to find the USJ empty other than villains, which was a relief, but now you had to fight a bunch of villains.

Great, just what we need at 9 AM on a Tuesday.

The villains charged at everyone and the pro heroes started to tear into the villains. They were obviously just a scraggly bunch of disorganized thugs because none of them stood a chance against the pro heroes.

“Y/N WATCH OUT!” Aizawa yelled from beside you, shoving you out of the way. You fell onto the ground and watched as some kind of beam hit Aizawa. He froze and ANOTHER AIZAWA came out of his side.

“What the fuck?!” you yelled.

The clone walked over to you and held out his hand.

“Sorry about that princess, need some help getting up?”

You face turned red. Princess?!?!

“W-What the FUCK are you?!” you said, looking at him, astonished.

“I’m Shota’s feelings. That guy’s quirk just made me into a clone.”

He definitely sounded like Aizawa. He looked like Aizawa. But he sure as hell wasn’t acting like Aizawa.

The clone still had an outstretched hand and was waiting for you to take it. You gave him a weird look and got up yourself. Clone Aizawa looked dejected for a moment before trying to talk to you again.

“I know you probably don’t trust me, which is fine; When hit, the quirk lasts for 24 hours and creates a clone of that person’s true feelings of the last person they talked to.”

“And you called me ‘princess’ because...?”

“I like you, duh!” he smiled at you.

Real Aizawa came running over.

“What in fuck’s name is this?” he said, annoyed.

You explained the quirk to him and watched his face slowly twist into one of discomfort.

“So.. he told you then...” he sighed.

The clone walked up and hugged you from behind. It caught you off guard so you grabbed him from behind and flipped him over you, landing him on his back.

“AH! STAY BACK- Oh, it’s just you- sorry.”

He got up, completely fine. “You can’t kill me, you know.” he smiled creepily.

You looked towards Aizawa, annoyed. He gave you a sheepish smile and then continued to fight villains.

You and Aizawa were a great team normally, you striking people down with your weapons and then him erasing their quirks and tying them up, but the stupid clone kept getting in the way. You formed a huge hammer, using up quite a bit of your energy, and went to hit a villain, when the clone came up behind you. He attempted to take the hammer from you.

“I can’t let you get hurt, princess! Let me.”

You looked at him angrily and hit him over the head with the hammer. He crumpled to the floor, but this distraction gave the villain you were fighting an opening. He struck you in the side with a sharp claw. You yelled out in agony and fell to the floor.

You felt groggy, and had no idea what was going on. You slowly opened your eyes and you were met with a pair of black eyes staring at you over your head.

“What the-”

“Princess! You’re awake!” the clone said.

You looked to see Aizawa sitting in a chair beside your hospital bed, looking worried and guilty.

“Shouta?” you said.

Both the clone and the real Aizawa looked up at you.

“The real Shouta.” you said pointedly.

“What?” he said, sounding slightly irritated.

“What’s wrong?”

He looked angry for a second, and then he cupped his face in his hands.

“I just put you in the fucking hospital because of my instinct to protect you and you wanna ask me what’s wrong?? All my feelings have been put on the line by that stupid villain and you wanna ask me what’s wrong. You probably hate me now because of this idiot-” he gestured to the clone, “and there’s no way to get rid of him.”

You looked the opposite way. What he didn’t know is that if you had gotten hit with that quirk, the same thing would be happening to him.

Should I tell him that though?

You sighed. “Shouta- if you had let me get hit with that quirk I would probably be in the same situation as you.”

He looked up at you, wide-eyed.

“Wait- are you saying-?”

“Yes. I like you too, Shouta. But I didn’t know what to say about it because I had no idea if you would be interested in me or not.

He looked down at the ground and smiled softly. Then, the clone walked over. You looked up at the clone, knowing what he was about to do. He leaned in to try and kiss you, but Aizawa shoved him back.

“No. I want to do this myself.” He smirked and you blushed down to your toes.

He leaned in and you two shared a kiss. It felt magical, and it was definitely something the both of you had wanted for a long time. And then you felt a pair of arms wrap around the two of you. You both broke the kiss to see the clone hugging you guys, smiling.

“Jesus Christ...” Aizawa said, looking away, embarrassed.

You laughed, knowing that this would be a looonnnggg 24 hours for him.

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

                                                    Tamaki

You, Tamaki, Kirishima, and Fatgum were patrolling. You and Tamaki were two of the Big Three at UA. 

“This is so manly! We haven’t seen any villains yet today! Must mean-”

Just as he was saying that, something caught out of the corner of your eye.

“Hey- Shh!” you said, as you waved them to follow you. You led them to the corner by a dark alley.

You peeked your head around to see two people exchanging something; Everyone else poked their head around.

“I can talk to them- it’ll be less intimidating if a not so well known hero talks to them. Stay close just in case though.” 

You didn’t give them a chance to disagree before you ducked into the alley.

“Hey guys, hero here. I’m gonna need to see what’s being purchased here.”

“Get lost kid, this is dangerous business.” one of the villains said.

You scowled and formed a gun with your quirk. You held it up at them. 

“Show me please.” you said, in a little more demanding tone this time. 

The other villain looked scared. He panicked and shot some kind of beam at you. You looked like a deer in headlights- you closed your eyes and waited for the impact, until you felt something wrap around you. You slowly opened your eyes to see Tamaki hugging you. But Tamaki was also... in front of you?

“W-What the fuck?!” you said. 

“I- I jumped in f-front of you to p-protect you from the b-beam he just shot... and then another m-me appeared and now he’s hugging you.” Tamaki said, in his usual nervous tone. 

Fatgum and Kirishima rounded the corner and looked shocked. 

Fatgum looked a little angry. “Hey, you two- Show me what’s being exchanged and explain what you just did.”

The villains looked like they were about to shit their pants upon seeing the pro hero. 

“S-Shit...” said the first villain.

The second villain explained his quirk nervously, while they were getting arrested for drug sales.

The Tamaki clone was still hanging onto you. He hadn’t talked yet, but you can probably guess that the real Tamaki was beyond embarrassed.

The three of you were walking back to UA after your morning patrol. You guys were getting the rest of the day off because the quirk would ail you in fighting. 

“I- I’m s-so sorry, Y/n...” Tamaki said. He looked like he was about to cry. His clone was crying. You smiled softly at him, knowing that this was hard on him. 

“It’s okay, Tamaki. Want to hang out today? Would that make you feel better about this?”

He looked up from the ground. 

“T-That would be nice...”

Kirishima waved goodbye to you two and went to join his other friends while the two of you walked over to his dorm.

You sat on his bed, the clone sitting beside you. Tamaki sat in a chair and nervously looked from you to the clone. 

“Y-Y/n I’m s- sorry... I hope t-this doesn’t c-change anything b-between us you’re my b-best friend and-” 

You cut him off by shaking the clone off of you and walking over to him. You wrapped him up in a hug and just held him there. He was shaking pretty bad and it took him a second to return the hug, but he did.

“Y-Y/n!” he said nervously.

“Tamaki, don’t worry about it. But I assume you have something to tell me?” you giggled and a small, sheepish smile formed on Tamaki’s face.

“Y/n I- I like you!” he blurted. He blushed and looked down at the floor.

“I like you too, Tamaki.” you said with a little laugh.

He looked up at you in surprise. 

“R-Really?”

“Of course.” you leaned over and kissed him and the clone (who had followed you over to Tamaki) on the cheek. “You and your feelings.” you giggled.

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

                                                  Todoroki

You smiled as you formed a bat with your quirk. You began to knock people unconscious left and right. After you would knock them down or unconscious, your best friend, Todoroki would come behind you and freeze them for extra measure. 

You and a couple others from class 1-A had been selected for a special training course against another school. Today’s training was a game similar to the fights at the sports festival. Once you were knocked unconscious or you were unable to move you were disqualified from the game. You were supposed to match up in teams of two or three. The more people that you and your team got out the more points you got. You and Todoroki made a pretty efficient team, and had gotten out a TON of people. 

“Hey! Shouto- Look out!” you yelled. He turned around just in time to get hit in the face with a beam. 

You watched as another Todoroki materialized beside him. You stood there, agape, confused. 

“W-What the hell..?” he said.

Just then, a loud beeping noise started. 

“That concludes today’s training. Please return to the main room where the people with the most points will be announced. The unconscious will be cleared by the onsite nurses. Please deactivate whatever quirks may be holding or effecting people.”

You and Todoroki looked at each other in shock. Just then, a boy walked over.

“Hey. I just wanted to let you guys know about my quirk- I’m sorry but I can’t deactivate it- it makes a clone of you that shows your true feelings towards the last person you talked to. It lasts for 24 hours. I mostly use it for distraction to give my partners enough time to strike. But the person talked on the intercom before my partners could. Um, anyways, good luck with him!” 

The boy walked away without another word, leaving you shocked and Todoroki with a face of pure discomfort. 

“Everything okay shou-” you were cut off by his clone running over to you, and to your surprise, he started absolutely fawning over you.

“Y/n! You did so great! You’re so pretty when you use your quirk! You are so amazing at fighting!”

“S-Shouto??” you said, looking at the real Shouto, who was burying his face in his hands. 

“I-I’m going to melt my ice... I’ll meet you in the main room.” and with that, he ran off.

With the clone Todoroki still talking to you and making you blush, you walked to the main room. A few minutes later, the real Todoroki joined you, but looked embarrassed and didn’t talk.

Just as you were about to ask him what was going on, a man stepped up on stage.

“Hello students! We hope you enjoyed your game today! If you’ll direct your attention to this screen-” he gestured towards a large TV where the winners all popped up. “You’ll see the winners of today’s game- Y/n and Shouto Todoroki! Let’s give them a round of applause.” 

You and Todoroki looked at each other excitedly, and went to hug, but the clone cut in between you two and threw his arms around you.

“It’s all because of you Y/n! Good job!!”

You blushed as you hugged him back and then pulled away. You saw the real Todoroki looking slightly dejected. You brushed it off and followed the rest of the students out to where the busses were to take all of you home. 

Once back at UA,  you and Todoroki were walking up the path to the dorms, while his clone droned on and on about how much fun he had and how amazing you were.

“Shouto.” you said.

Both of them looked at you.

“Real Shouto.”

“What is it, Y/n?” he asked.

“Wanna explain this guy’s behavior to me?” you smiled, knowing exactly what you were asking to him to admit.

“I- I, uh... Well, Y/n, I like you. I have for a long time. I guess there’s no getting around it now. I just didn’t want to get hurt or hurt you so I didn’t tell you... I- I hope this doesn’t change anything.” he said looked down at the ground.

“Shouto...” you said softly.

He looked up from the ground and met your eyes. You smiled and pulled him in for a kiss. After you pulled away, you smiled.

“I like you back, Shouto. We make a good team.”

Todoroki blushed as you rested your head on his shoulder.

“AW NO FAIR! I WANTED TO KISS Y/N! I’VE BEEN WORKING UP THE NERVE ALL NIGHT!” 

Both of you looked other and the clone stomped his foot.

“Shut up!” you both yelled at the same time. 

The clone pouted and sheepishly followed you two into the building. You weren’t lying. You two did make a pretty good team.

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

hope i did this right :P

[tinyboxxtink]

"Caught In The Storm" *Part 2*

Y'all thought I was kidding when I said I was pumped for this story; you just read how long this chapter is.

IT'S POURING OUT. I JUST WANT YOU TO GET WHERE I AM ALREADY.

It's so good guys. Like, SO GOOD.

Okay I'm sorry proceed.

Tag List:

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@wanniiieeee

@milkshqke

@gibbs274

@lolliepopsicle

@aprildecker-blog

@objection-argumentative

@word-scribbless

If you missed part 1: Here!

Part 3 Here!

-----

The next day the SVU squad was having one of their "murder board" meetings when you came storming into the station.

"Well I hope you're happy!!" You looked right at Fin.

"Audition didn't go well, cannoli?" Sonny asked you using his pet name for you.

"No Sonny, it DID NOT," You huffed. "I walked in there and I blew my audition," You circled Fin’s desk. "And I don't mean I forgot the lyrics, or I hit a bad note. No no, ohhhh no," You finally stood in front of him and crossed your arms.

"Halfway through the song I broke down SOBBING. I had a complete mental breakdown, because all I could think was that I had the worst moment of my entire life in that room!!!"

"Hey you can't blame us for your mistakes," Fin retorted.

"I don't blame them, I blame you!" You gestured to the rest of your “family” and then to him.

"Excuse you?" Fin sat up straighter.

"You didn't have to say anything Fin, you really didn't," You sighed.

"What?"

"You could have waited to have your fucking temper tantrum until after my audition,"

"Excuse me no--"

"She has a point" Olivia interjected.

"You too?" Fin took offense.

"Fin she was leaving, it wasn't like she was going to try and jump Rafael's bones right there," She went on. The whole room shivered at the thought of you “jumping” anybody’s bones.

"Look, I don't love it either but you can't help your feelings. And she just has a little crush on him, you can't fault her for that,"

You scoffed in offense.

"You're not helping, sweets," Olivia warned.

"Right…"

"Anyway you could have waited to have it out, is all I’m saying,” Olivia nodded at you with a smile. You mouthed a “thank you”.

"Oh we haven't begun to have it out," Fin huffed.

"Save it" You put a hand up before he started to stand up and get in your face for a fight.

"I already know what you're going to say; he's too old for me, we're a 'family' and he's supposed to be my 'uncle' or 'brother' or some other creepy thing, and we have nothing in common. But we do!"

"You barely know him, Y/N," Nick chimed in.

"I know him better than any of you!" You cried defensively.

"What?" Sonny looked at everyone confused, but they were just as lost as he was.

"That summer….when I was working with him. We got... close," You muttered the ending.

"I fucking knew it, you did bang him begin my back…" Fin growled.

"It wasn't like that! It's not like that, da--FIN," You actually did usually call him dad or daddy, but since he had been trying to use his dominance you persisted to remind him he wasn't actually your father.

"So what, now you two are in love?" Fin rolled his eyes.

"No! He didn't... we've never….it's never gone there, and I don't even know how he feels," You looked down as you talked. But then, you remembered why you were there in the first place and you raised your head up with eyes of fire.

“And it wouldn't matter anyway because it's none of your business.” You snapped.

“It is absolutely my business Y/N he’s my co-worker, he’s ALL of our co-workers, this affects ALL of us,”

“I knew it,” You scoffed, tears coming to your eyes.

“What?”

“I knew you’d blow up, and freak out, and not even ATTEMPT to open your mind or hear what I have to say, it’s just about you and what makes you okay,” You backed away from all of them.

“So I came here willing to say that I’m done,” You raised your hands.

“What do you mean you’re ‘done’?” Fin crossed his arms.

“With you,” You replied straight faced, willing tears not to fall right now. “Olivia’s right, I can’t help the way I feel, and BELIEVE me I have tried, daddy,” You resorted to your old name for a punch in the gut.

“Y’know whenever Sonny and Nick started, I had ‘crushes’ on them too,” You nodded at the two, who quickly looked uncomfortable picturing you that way.

“But those quickly went away, and I accepted them as my uncles, or whatnot,” You continued. “I have done that since I was in Jr. High, come here and meet my new ‘family’. I’ve always felt maternal or paternal vibes from everyone here, Uncle Brian, Grandpa Kragen and Munch, Uncle Stabler who can rot in hell…” You gave Olivia a sad look.

“But it’s ALWAYS been familial love! And the day I met Rafael, something was different,” You couldn’t help the tears choking your throat. “And I have never, EVER no matter HOW hard I have tried, felt anything like I feel about the rest of you. It’s just....different,”

“And now, you all know. And I know that you don’t like it, or it makes you uneasy, or blah blah blah,” You made blah gestures with your hands.

“But I can’t go back to pretending that it doesn’t kill me every time that I see him, and I’m not going to pretend like I’m okay with dad being-- this,” You gestured to Fin who shifted uncomfortably.

“So, I’m not going to come around here, for a while,” You said sadly.

“We didn’t do anything, cannoli! We’re your family too,” Sonny protested.

“Yeah I know, I just--”

“Look, Y/N before anybody does ANYTHING, you need to go talk to Rafael,”

“What?

“WHAT?!”

Both you and Fin exclaimed at the same time.

“Look I’m not thrilled with the idea of...that, but the bottom line none of this arguing means anything if he doesn’t feel the same way. So I’m saying before you start going off and making threats to US, go talk to him first. Without anybody else’s input,”

“Yeah, alright,” You shrugged and left before anyone else could argue.

--------

You walked into Rafael’s office quietly, not really sure how to start the conversation. He was writing a deposition silently so you knocked on the door to get his attention. He looked up at you with a small smile.

“Hey you,” He got up and walked around his desk as you shut the door behind you. “I was worried about you,” He put his hands on both of your shoulders.

“I know,” You gave him a small smile back. “But you’re right we do need to talk about last night,”

“Yeah, I--” He looked away nervously.

“I already went to my da---Fin, and the squad about this,” You bit your lip.

“....About what?” He was now concerned.

“Us,” You looked at him with a small smile.

“I’m sorry, there’s an ‘us’ now?” Rafael half laughed.

“Well that’s what I’m saying, Rafael!” You bit your lip. “Look after all the fighting and what not, what it boils down to is how you and I feel,”

“.....What are you saying?” Rafael asked, backing away from you.

“I’m asking,” You step forward and took both of his hands and looked at him seriously.

“For you to forget about Fin, or the squad, or an age gap, or all the million other things that are ‘against’ us,” You took a deep breath and asked the hardest question you’ve ever asked anyone:

“I’m asking you...do you love me?”

“Of course I love you Y/N, you’re like a--” Rafael immediately responded, moving away from you and gesturing wildly.

“Do NOT say daughter,” You cut him off. “Or sister, or niece, or cousin. You know that’s not what I’m asking,” You grabbed him and made him look at you again.

“Do you want to be with me?”

“I...it’s complicated,” He broke from your hold and paced his office.

“No I’d say it’s pretty damn simple-- do you feel about me the way I feel about you?” You asked him again.

“I just...I don’t want to become between you and Fin, he’s basically your--”

“He’s NOT my father!” You yelled.

“But he’s the closest thing you have!” Rafael argued, putting his hands over his face and taking a deep sigh.

“Christ almighty, Y/N. I don’t...I don’t want this to be a whole ‘thing’, I don’t want to upset Olivia, or the other squad members, I just...want us to go back to normal,” He gave you a sad look as he sank into his chair behind his desk.

“....Yeah well, normal is not an option, Rafael. And you STILL have not answered my question,” You circled his desk to be closer to him again.

“What question?”

“Dammit, Rafa!” You threw up your hands, then took both of your hands and put them on either side of the chair preventing him from evading you again.

“Look me in the eyes right now, and tell me you’re not in love with me,”

A very long pause began, as the two of you just stared at each other. You were searching his green eyes for a hint, a tell of what he was thinking, but he kept himself very guarded. You hated it.

“...No, I’m not,” He said in the tiniest voice as he looked down at the floor.

“You’re lying,” You pulled back with a sarcastic laugh, tears choking your throat yet again.

“Oh so just because I didn’t say what you wanted me to, I’m lying? For fuck’s sake grow up, Y/N,” Rafael spat at you coldly, turning back to his desk in an attempt to resume working.

“Fine, you know what? Fine. That’s great. You believe whatever you wanna believe Rafael, but things are NOT going back to normal,” You shook your head, trying to be cold and direct but failing as tears fell from your eyes.

“Y/N….” He felt his heart breaking, he hated to see you cry.

“No,” You stopped him. “We’re done. I don’t ever want to see you again. Not here, not at the station, not at the fucking Starbucks down my street!” Your voice raised as more tears fell.

“Y/N, please don’t do this…” Rafael began to panic, realizing what you were saying. He leapt up from his chair and tried grabbing your hands but you pushed him away.

“Don’t call me, don’t text me. Just...leave me hell alone,” And with that you turned on your heels and stormed out of his office, now full on sobbing down the hall.

Unbeknownst to you, Rafael let out an angry scream, running over to his desk and flinging papers everywhere, then proceeded to sink back into his chair behind his desk and cried ever so silently in his office.

-----

It had been about a week since your whole fallout with your “family” and Barba and you weren't doing great.

Then one day you got a phone call from an unknown number.

“Hello?”

“Hey Y/N, this is Sandy from the supper club?” You immediately stopped walking when you heard her voice.

“Oh yes how are you?”

“Great, I was wondering if you could come back in and audition for us again?”

“Are you serious? I know I’m going to regret asking but, what made you change your mind?”

“Well your friend Kelsey called and told us that the day you came in and auditioned, your dog had just died that morning. But you didn't want to stand us up so you came anyway. And to be honest with you, all of the other auditions have kind of sucked so we'd like to give you another try.”

“Oh my God thank you, thank you, thank you so much!!!”

“Great so we'll see you tonight at 8:00?”

“Absolutely,”

You hung up the phone and immediately called Kelsey.

“Hello?”

“I love you so much I love you I love you I love you!”

“Oh so they called did they?”

“YES. I cannot believe that you would do that for me,”

“Well I figured you needed a win right now. Since you know you lost your family, and everybody who actually cares about you,”

“....Wow,”

“ You know what I mean! I mean you still have me, and Kenny obviously,”

“....Right. ANYWAY, the audition is tonight so….”

“Yes?”

“Will you play for me?”

“Let me see if I can free up my busy schedule,”

“Ha, Ha,”

“Oh look I’m free! I'll be there after work. Love you bye”

----

*That Night*

You walked into the Supper Club with a brand new outfit and a nervous smile. You noticed Kelsey was already at the piano, waving at you with a huge smile and a thumbs up.

“Hey Sandy, Hey Kyle…” You shook hands with the owners. “Thank you so much again for this chance,

“Girl we should be thanking you, you should’ve seen the ‘talent’ that has stunk up this stage all week!” Kyle laughed.

“So are you ready?” Sandy asked you.

“Yeah, I think I’m good,” You took a deep breath and smiled at her. She nodded at you while you took your spot on stage once again.

You closed your eyes and blocked out everything and everyone out of your mind, except for your song. It was just you, and the stage. This is what mattered.

-----

“....Good to you,” You finished the last line with a breathy note, your eyes still closed. You had kept them shut the entire time just so you wouldn’t look out into the house and just see the horrified looks of your family's faces burned into your brain.

“That was beautiful!!” Sandy clapped her hands. “Do you think you could come back tomorrow night and do that again?”

“Like for a second audition?” You asked hopefully.

“Like as a job,” She grinned back.

“Really?!”

“Yes really! That was enchanting darling, really,” Kyle placed a hand on your shoulder.

“Thank you, thank you so much!” You nodded for Kelsey to come over as Sandy and Kyle walked away.

“I got the job,” You beamed.

“YOU GOT THE JOB!!!!” She squealed, causing people to stare. You shook your head and lead her out of the club back onto the street.

“Oh my god, Oh my GOD! I’m going to sing to a packed club, night after night after night! Oh my god, I have to call Dad---” Your celebrating tone quickly died when you realized the only people you’d wanna call about this weren’t...there.

“...You can call Kenny,”

“Kenny!” You smiled. “Yes I’ll call Kenny!”

“Hey girl what’s up?”

“I got the job,”

“Wha---at the Supper Club?”

“YES!!!!!!”

“Oh my god you GOT THE JOB!!!” *she got the job!*

You heard him speak to a muffled voice in the background.

“Kenny…”

“Yeah babe what’s up?”

“Who are you with right now?”

“...Alejandro,”

“Oh, Alex! I haven’t seen him in forever, put him on the phone,”

“He uh-- he has food in his mouth,”

“Boy why you lying, tell her she needs to--”

You heard Fin's voice.

“KENNETH,”

“...Yeah?”

“Don’t tell him that! He doesn’t get to know that!”

“Y/N, can’t we just stop all of this--”

“NO. And if you tell him to come tomorrow night I will kill you,”

You hung the phone and noticed Kelsey giving you a look.

“What?” You raised an eyebrow.

“You didn’t have to tell him you were singing tomorrow, you could’ve just texted him so Fin wouldn’t hear,” She smiled mischievously at you. “You want him thereeee,”

"...Maybe," You bit your lip. "Do you think he'll come?"

"I bet they ALL come, baby girl," She winked.

You wondered if she was right. If you'd see Rafael tomorrow, after all this time.

------

“I can’t believe she--” Kenneth stared at the phone, then to Fin.

“Dad, you have to go to her show tomorrow night,”

“Kenny she literally just said she’d kill you--”

“Yeah but dad, we both know her,” He looked at Fin with earnest eyes. “She might be mad at you right now, but she’ll want you there when her dream is coming true,” Fin’s eyes lit up as he finished speaking.

“AND the rest of the squad,” He quickly added, making Fin sigh.

“Yeah,” He agreed.

“AND Barba,”

“...Yeah alright Ken I get it, okay? Finish your food before it gets cold,”

-----

The next day Fin went to see Barba at his office. He knocked softly then entered to see Barba talking with Olivia.

“Detective,” Barba nodded. “Didn’t expect you here, was Olivia not working fast enough?” He teased Liv with a smile.

“Actually I’m glad you’re both here. I need to tell the rest of the guys but-- I wanted to come here first,”

“That sounds ominous, Fin,”

“Actually it’s not,” He shook his head. “Y/N got that job she...auditioned for, a few weeks ago,” He muttered awkwardly not looking Barba in the face.

“Wha--Seriously? How? When?!” Olivia began asking questions rapid fire.

“....Why did you come to tell me this, Fin? You didn’t know Olivia was here,”

“Look, Barba,” Fin sighed, running his hand back across his head. “I don’t-- I don’t need to know the specifics of how close you and my daug---Y/N, are,”

“Oh Fin look I haven’t--”

“Yeah, I figured. She’s iced us all out for a while now,” He chuckled sadly. If he taught you anything, it was how to stand your ground.

“But Kenny said, that as mad as she is we need to be there tomorrow night when she goes on,” He continued. “All of us,”

“Tomorrow?” Barba’s eyes perked up. “Tomorrow night, you want me to go see Y/N?”

“ALL of us,” He emphasized. “But, yeah,”

“Sounds good,” He replied as nonchalant as he could, trying to hide his excitement. He missed you so badly, it scared him how much it hurt not to have you in his life on a daily basis.

“Uh huh,” Fin chuckled, nodding to Olivia. “I’ll see you back at the station,”

“Actually I was on my way out, I’ll see you tomorrow night Rafa,” She winked at him.

As soon as they left his office, Rafael did a fist pump in the air like a kid. He was going to see you, after so long.

He couldn’t wait. He just hoped you couldn’t either.

[illfoandillfie]

5 Simple Rules For A Successful Fake Relationship: Ben’s POV

5 SIMPLE RULES MASTERLIST

Pairing: Ben Hardy x Reader

Summery: 14 scenes told from Ben's Perspective.

Warnings: A whole lotta angst and badly handled feelings. swearing, drinking, a little bit of smut/masturbation (18+) basically everything from the other chapters but from Ben’s side lmao

Words: 22 790 (oh god im sorry, but all the sections are separated so you don’t have to read it in one hit!)

A/N: I know it's like super duper late but here is the final chapter of this series that I promised! Basically just a collection of blurbs (maybe a few oneshot length parts too) that tell the story from the other side. Some are his point of view of things that occurred in the main chapters, some fill in gaps that reader wasn't around for. 

I had a lot of fun writing from a perspective I don't normally write from! It was a bit of a challenge at times but definitely something I'd like to do again.

Taglist: @vee-ndetta @atomic-watermelon @kellypenac @labessieisallama @deakyclicks @jennyggggrrr @drowseoftaylor @hannafuckingsucks @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming @queenmylovely @taron-egrotten @johndeaconshands @borhapbois @stardust-galaxies

@coni-martina @hardforbenhardy @cubedtriangle @vicouscirce @arianabrashierstuff @pattieboydwannabe @maggieroseevans @theprettyandthereckless @friccinfricks​ 

“Pick up Joe, pick up,” Ben mumbled to himself, pacing around his trailer. The phone rang out and he let out a grunt of annoyance as he switched to text message.

I fucked up. Call me.

It was an anxious ten-minute wait in which Ben found it hard to sit still or focus on anything other than what a colossal mistake he’d made. He tried to go over his lines instead, tried to focus on the next scene you’d be filming together but all he could think about was you. You and how badly he’d fucked up. Finally Joe put him out of his misery. “Thank Christ,” “Sorry I was asleep,” a yawning Joe said from the other end of the line, “What happened that you needed to contact me at 6am?” “I said yes,” “To?” “Joe, I know it’s early for you but please try to keep up. I said yes.” There was a pause as Joe tried to work out what Ben meant and then realisation dawned, “Nooooo,” “Yes. I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking. Oh my god,” Joe groaned, sympathetic, “You said yes? To the fake dating schtick?” “I wasn’t going to,” “I should fucking hope not. After everything we talked about yesterday? After we agreed it was a horrible idea?” “I know! I know,” Ben had to pause to gulp in a breath, his chest suddenly feeling too tight to handle the oxygen, “I was going to say no. I came in with a plan to say no and it was on the tip of my tongue for the entire meeting. They were going through these pages explaining it all and all of the rules we’d have to follow and I was ready to say no, I was going to say no,” “So what happened?” Ben flopped down onto his couch, the one he liked to nap on when time allowed, running his hand through his hair as he spoke, “I looked over at her and my mind clouded over and I said yes,” “Did she ask you to?” “Nope. I think she knew what I was thinking through the whole thing, she seemed shocked when I agreed to it. Fuck, why did I say yes?” “Cause you’re a fucking idiot.” “You can say that again,” “I could but I won’t.” Joe exhaled slowly into the receiver, “Jesus man,” “Yup. You wanna know the worst part though?” “Agreeing to it wasn’t the worst part?” “I’m not totally disappointed,” “Ben,” Joe sounded mildly horrified so Ben hurried to explain. “I mean, I know it’s bad. I know there were a thousand ways to better handle it...sticking to the plan and asking her out after we wrapped being the least of them. But...I have date ideas picked out already. There’s this wine and art place she’d love and the ice-skating rink and I’d love to take her to that Chinese restaurant near me. And I’m kind of happy I have an excuse to look at her now, touch her. I don’t have to worry about if she’s caught me staring or if I’m doing a bad job of hiding my feelings because everyone’s going to think we’re dating anyway so what’s the fucking harm,” “Alright Ben, I’m gonna stop you there. You need to get this shit under control. I suggest going to a bar, getting drunk, and getting into the pants of the first girl who talks to you.” “Can’t,” “Oh don’t give me that bullshit. You’re not so hung up on this Y/N chick that you can’t think about sleeping with someone else, are you?” “Doesn’t matter, I literally can’t unless I want everyone to think I’m cheating on her. Don’t think that’d go down well with the studio or anyone else really. They’d crucify me for fucking up the plan after less than a day.” “Would you have followed my advice even if that wasn’t the case?” Ben mad a non-committal noise, “Probably not. I just want her,” “Doesn’t she have a boyfriend? I distinctly remember you whining about a boyfriend.” “Apparently it was never that serious. He was boring.” “You’re boring too Ben. Hate to break it to you but you’re dull, unexciting, tedious. She’s not going to want to date you either. Might as well give up now,” “Have you got a thesaurus sitting in your lap?” Joe laughed despite himself, “I thought this was going to be a crush Ben. Short lived.” “Me too. It’s not though. I can’t get her out of my mind. When I’m with her I don’t want to leave and then when I have to leave all I can think about is when I’ll next see her. She’s so wonderful and beautiful and kind-hearted. She likes pulling faces at me from behind the camera and she’s got the cutest laugh…When she’s nervous about a scene she bounces her leg. Every time. And she’s so sweet to everyone on set, always chatting with whoever is around and making jokes and stuff. I want to make her laugh. I want to calm her when she’s nervous. I want her.” “Maybe you should just tell her how you feel now. I know you wanted to wait until after the movie but I think that horse has bolted,” “I can’t tell her now, are you insane? If I tell her now she’ll call up her agent and cancel the whole fake dating thing and she’ll never want to see me again,” “Maybe she wants to date you too,” “Nope. She literally said to me she wouldn’t date me in real life,” Ben paused, thinking, “d’you reckon there’s a chance she might fall for me too? Like, with the whole pretending to date thing? Maybe I could convince her I’d be a good boyfriend,” “Don’t get your hopes up Ben,” “You’re right. She’s not going to change her mind about me. We’re friends and that’s it. And I’ve just gotta focus on finishing this movie and getting through the whole relationship without her figuring anything out.” “I don’t envy you, buddy.”

                                                       ***

It took Ben a few moments of lying in the dark to remember why he felt so nervous first thing in the morning. But the waiting message from Peter about what time the photographer would arrive was enough to remind him. He lay there a little longer, trying to prepare himself for everything, trying to convince himself that seeing you first thing in the morning would be enough of a turn off to stop him from feeling the way you made him feel. It didn’t work, the convincing or the seeing you. If anything, seeing you yawning as you left his spare room just made it all the worse. You, in his pyjamas. It made his stomach flip. He found it hard to pull his eyes from you as you drank your coffee, found it hard to not enjoy the sight of you in his pyjamas in his kitchen. You’d never been there before but you didn’t feel out of place. He could imagine other mornings, making pancakes together, you with a spot of batter on your nose that he’d wipe away and replace with a kiss, or else making you the first tea or coffee of the day and bringing it to you in bed, snuggling under the covers with you, your head resting on his chest as you talked quietly about whatever was happening that day. But planning out how you’d look for the camera was a sharp reminder that it wasn’t real, that you were only there because of work.

“And, um, he was very careful in how he worded it, but they want us to look like we fucked. Also I told them I’d take you home so there may be someone waiting for us there too, he never got back to me on it.” “Shit, okay. Umm, guess I’ll just wear this then?” he watched as you indicated the pyjamas you’d borrowed, his pyjamas, “might lose the pants though, help sell it a bit more.” “Yeah, guess so,” Ben had to clear his throat and avert his eyes, terrified that you’d be able to see what he was thinking, willing himself to stop thinking about helping you out of them. “What time is it?” He glanced at the oven, thankful to have even the smallest of diversions, “Twenty past eight,” “God I haven’t been up this early on a weekend in months.” “Not one for farmers markets or anything then?” This was a better topic. Boring, safe. “Not really. Much prefer lying in bed doing nothing.” Shit, “Me too,” he laughed, trying not to imagine you in his bed in just his shirt (fuck the pants they were too big for you anyway). “We’re meant for each other,” Ben took another sip of coffee to keep from groaning. You had no idea what you were doing to him and he wasn’t going to be the one to tell you. Not now at any rate. He’d killed any chance of anything happening when he’d agreed to this stunt and now he had to suck it up and deal with it. “Did you want to have a shower or anything?” “Nah, you can if you want though,” “Might as well wait until I get home. But I am gonna clean my teeth, especially if we have to kiss.” Jesus, the kiss, he’d almost forgotten about that, “Maybe mess up your hair too, make it look like you didn’t sleep much.” This is dangerous territory. “Well how could I when you’re such a good lover,” Oh god oh god oh god, “I know you’re joking but if anyone asks, I’m incredible. You came like three times,” “Did I now?” “Of course,” “Good thing no one’s gonna ask then, don’t think I’m great at lying,” Ben wanted to stop, wanted to switch back to talking about farmers markets and breakfast options but he didn’t seem to have control over himself anymore, “Besides, it’s not really a lie, I am that good. You just haven’t experienced it personally.” You poked your tongue out at him as you turned back towards the bathroom. As soon as he heard the door shut Ben collapsed forward against the kitchen counter, leaning on his palms as he grappled with what had just happened. He’d need to keep his wits about him from now on. Flirting like that couldn’t happen again, he’d been lucky that you'd treated it like friendly banter. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to drown out the voice that suggested you’re lack of awareness was proof of how disinterested you were. It was only when he heard the bathroom door swing open again that he forced himself to move.

“How do I look?” you asked as you re-entered the room. Can’t avoid looking at her now, she wants your opinion, “Gorgeous.” It was true. Everything you’d done to make yourself look like you’d had a late night just made you even more desirable. The messed up hair, the smudge of makeup around your eyes. He gulped when he noticed the undone buttons of the flannel shirt, just enough to tease, and the missing pants. Tell her you want to pin her to the wall and undo the rest of those buttons. Tell her you want to wake up to that sight every morning. “But do I look like I’ve been thoroughly fucked?” “Oh, right, ummm,” he gave you another cursory look, trying not to linger on any part of you for too long, “yes, I think so,” “I feel like there’s something missing,” suddenly you turned on your heel and stepped back towards the bathroom. Ben waited where you’d left him until, “Oh! I know. Might be taking it a bit far though.” Clearly he was supposed to be part of this conversation, so he followed you to the doorway, stepped just over the threshold, “What is it?” You were scrutinising your appearance in the mirror and he let himself watch your reflection, “what if you gave me a hickey?” Ben’s breath caught in his throat though he managed to stutter out your name. “Yeah, I know, that’s a weird thing to ask. Don’t worry, I think we’ll be fine without it,” He inhaled deeply wondering if your backtracking was a sign that you’d worked out what was going on in his head. He couldn’t let that happen. And he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to give you a love bite, though he’d prefer to be covering you in them. Slowly, he let the breath go again, “no, you’re right. A hickey will definitely make it look more authentic,”

“It’s not totally inappropriate for me to ask?” Babe this whole thing is inappropriate, “No, no, we have to make it look legit. Here, I’ll uhhh,” With another, less than steady, breath, he stepped behind you, close enough that you were practically leaning against him. His heart began to beat faster, his stomach did summersaults. Carefully he wrapped his arm around your waist to steady himself, pull you closer, as he pushed your hair to the side. He glanced at your reflection, waiting for you to stop him, to notice his shaky fingers and burning skin and to jump away from him. But you didn’t. You let him lean in, let him press his lips to your neck, let him mark you. He felt your own breath speed up, felt you tilt your head, inviting more. And then. It was only a small hum, but it had definitely come from you. He glanced at the mirror again, saw you had your eyes shut. You liked it. He was giving you a hickey and you were enjoying it. This might be his only chance to do that, to make you feel that way. He refocused on your neck, where his lips met your skin, soothing the fresh brand with his tongue. He could happily have given you ten more, was tempted to go in for a second at least. Instead he let you go, stepped backwards as quickly as he could manage. If he waited too long he’d end up saying something he’d regret. “Will that do?” “It’s great Ben really ties the whole look together,” He tried to match your smile though it felt like there was a warning siren going off in his head, “Good. Good. Okay then, I’ll umm, what time is it?” “Just after nine. Wonder if the photographer is here yet,” “I think I will jump in for that shower actually, by the time I’m done he will definitely be here,” he needed some time to compose himself before he even thought about stepping outside the door with you, “Make yourself comfortable though, watch some TV or something.” “Alright. Thanks for being so cool about all this. I know you’re a little sceptical about the benefits and everything.” “It’s fine Y/N, no need for any of that,” he forced another smile as you left but the moment you’d pulled the door shut it slipped again. Slowly he made his way to the tap, splashed his face with cold water. His fingers still tingled where they’d rested against you. The echo of your hum was stuck in his head. Your perfume still lingered in the air. “Fuck,” Ben directed the curse at his reflection, unsure any other word could sum up better than that. The fact that you didn’t want him was fucked, having you here looking the part of the perfect girlfriend was fucked, giving you a hickey for the performance was fucked. And the fact that he was sporting a semi from it was really just the cherry on top of his totally fucked sundae. He couldn’t go back out to you in such a state, especially not when you were going to have to make out for the camera. A shower to relieve himself was the only answer, though he felt bad about you being only a couple of rooms over.

With a final prayer that you wouldn’t overhear or work out why he’d changed his mind about the shower, he turned the taps on and began undressing, wincing a little as he stuck his arm under the scalding hot water. With some adjustment he was able to fully step into the shower, pausing for a moment to relax under the steady beat of the water before reaching for the soap. Of course, you were on his mind as he wrapped his hand around his cock and slowly started stroking himself. The way you looked in his shirt, the swell of your breasts just barely exposed, tantalisingly so. The hem of the shirt draped over your bare thighs. You’d make such a sight dressed like that, lying in his bed, the sheets tangled around your legs. Better still his legs tangled between yours. He thought of the hum you made as he’d sucked at your throat. On the verge of a whine, maybe even a moan. Would you whine if his lips were on your chest instead? What about your thighs, leaving a trail up to… His breathing was faster now, hand moving at a similar speed. We’re made for each other. Your voice, your words. You’d say it, half pant it, while he was inside you. Made for each other. And you’d hum that hum of pleasure. Your thighs, under his shirt. His arm wrapped around your waist, holding you close as he pulled your hair aside. What if you gave me a hickey?  The warmth of your body leaning against his, such a contrast to the cool bathroom tiles. That hum. Those thighs. The way you say his name. Made for each other. Your lingering perfume. Your lingering warmth. Your lingering hum. His name on your tongue. He bit his lip to keep from making any sound as he came onto the floor of the shower. It took Ben a few moments to right his breathing, eyes pressed shut so he could hold onto the fantasy for just a little longer. But he knew he didn’t have the time. At least you get to kiss her again. He rushed through washing his hair, scrubbing himself clean. As he stepped out of the shower, he wrapped a towel around his waist and swiped his palm over the fogged-up mirror. He forced himself to smile, tried to make it seem natural but that just made it feel more fake. Maybe you wouldn’t notice. With a final exhale he left the bathroom, heading towards his bedroom to find some clean clothes. Your laugh cut through the mostly quiet house. Something on the tv, a cartoon by the sounds of it, had made you laugh and Ben couldn’t help but smile for real at the sound. It made it all seem worth it. 

                                                      ***

It had been a bit of an odd week. Everyone at work knew about the relationship and Ben had found himself set upon by well meaning set dressers and ADs who were curious to know when it had started and how they’d kept it such a secret because “seriously Ben, no one suspected anything.” That was nothing to his friends though, who were shocked he’d never brought it up even in passing and who demanded to know when they could meet this secret girlfriend of his. “Someone’s gotta tell her about the time you pissed your pants at the fair,” “I was seven and had drunk a lot of coke,” “Excuses, excuses. What’s your excuse for never mentioning her before?” “I thought we were going to play FIFA, not talk about my love life,” “We were but that was before we all saw your girlfriend’s arse online,” “You can’t see her arse in that shot,” “Near enough. And we can definitely see the giant fucking hickey on her neck. Now explain yourself,” “Alright mum,” Ben shook his head, “I mean, you know I don’t normally date people I work with. Neither does she. We both wanted to give our selves some time to see if it worked, to make sure what we thought we were feeling was legit and not on screen emotions carrying over or anything like that.” “Well it looks legit judging by photos,” “Shut up,” Ben sighed, rolling his eyes, “I actually really like her,” “Hey, I have a question. When the fuck have you been seeing this chick? Because your down time is spent with us.” “Oh, umm, y’know, after work and stuff. I don’t spend all of my time with you guys,” “Uhhh beg to disagree,” Ben tried to keep his tone normal though his heart was racing. If they figured it out now it could all be over, “Fuck off I have a life outside of you. And just because I was hanging with you guys in the evening doesn’t mean I didn’t see her earlier in the day.” “Nooners?” “Lunch dates.” “Uh huh. Okay, lunch dates. She’s a good shag though, right?” “Oh yeah, fucking….great shag,” “You gotta give us more than that mate,” “Sure, okay, but first can one of you kill me,” “Boooooo,” Ben laughed as he was pelted with crisps, “I’m so going to kick all your arses, now hand me a controller.”

The week had also brought him a copy of your rules. He’d taped the sheet to the bottom of his sock draw where no one else was likely to see it but he could still have a daily reminder that none of it was real. Being around you made it easy to forget you weren’t actually his girlfriend, the lines between friendly banter and flirty teasing becoming too blurred. Of course, he also had Joe reminding him to keep his head straight. He’d called after he saw the morning-after photos. The conversation had started with Joe calling Ben a moron but quickly shifted into Ben ranting for close to an hour because he’d, that morning, heard all about the conversation with Felicity and how you’d spent so long talking up his prowess. He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry or scream. “Is this some kind of punishment? Did I do something completely fucked up in a past life and now I’m paying for it?” “Maybe. Or maybe it’s a lesson on why you don’t agree to something because a pretty girl smiles at you.” “Oh bugger off, you’re absolutely no help,” “Well what do you want me to do?” “I don’t know.” “I could talk to her for you.” “Mate, that’s you’re worst idea yet.” “When’s the date?” “This Saturday.” “Just keep reminding yourself you’re there as friends. Don’t get sucked in by the act.” “I’m trying.” Easier said than done, especially when he’d had the date planned for a solid few months. Not officially of course, but in the back of his head. You and him and a bottle of wine as you sat close together and painted. When he imagined the date you wore a sun dress and decorated your canvas or plate, or whatever it was he pictured that time, with little hearts and lipstick kisses. He’d make you laugh with some kind of joke and you’d lean your forehead on his shoulder. Everyone else would melt away as you looked up at him, still smiling. And you’d say something about how you should have realised you loved him sooner. “Because I do, Ben, I love you,” Which is when he’d kiss you, softly.

Ben shook his head to clear it, focusing back on the script in his hand, though you’d soon distracted him again. The real you, not the fantasy date one. The one who was bouncing her knee and staring off into space. He gently touched your shoulder, “Hey, are you okay?” “Huh?” “You’re jiggling your leg a lot which you only do when something’s worrying you, what is it?” “Oh, nothing,” He didn’t believe you, “Is it about our date tonight?” “What if it’s bad? What if we don’t look like we’re actually together and Mary and Pete have to cancel the whole thing?” What a blessing that would be. I might actually be able to get over you. I could stop imaging you in my bed, “I’d get a decent night sleep not thinking about us,” “What?” Shit. He hadn’t meant to say that last bit out loud, “I’ve been worried about it too.” You nodded, your leg twitching as if gearing up to bounce again. “But I think we’ll be okay. It’s not like we’ll be starved for conversation and we’ll have the paint and the wine and we’ll be fine. Plus, weren’t you the one who said this would be easy?” “Yeah I was, but-” “No buts. It’ll be a piece of cake,” Ben didn’t necessarily believe it himself, or at least not for himself. He was going to struggle. But you didn’t have any underlying feelings to fight. For you it really was just a good time painting, “they’ll get whatever shots they get, and they’ll spin it so we look like a couple,” “Yeah, you’re right. Sorry,” “It’s okay,” before he could stop himself he’d reached for your hand, rubbing the back of it. He wanted to do more, to hold you tight and tell you it would be okay. But that would be too much. Instead he rubbed your hand and tried to distract you, “I’m honestly so much more nervous about shooting that scene tomorrow.” “The one where we’re playing matchmaker?” “Yes! Have you seen how many names are in there?” “Theres like six, Ben,” “Yeah but they’re all repeated, and I know I’m going to get the order wrong,” You laughed. It was the best sound in the world and he was determined to make sure he heard it again on your date.

It took Ben an hour to decide on an outfit. He’d had one set aside but looking at it in the mirror it felt too dressy, he needed something more casual. He paused for a calming smoke and then had to brush his teeth again. On set he chewed gum after a smoke, especially if there were kissing scenes, out of politeness more than anything. But the small part of him that hoped you were treating the date as an audition for the roll of real-life boyfriend worried that it would hurt his chances if he tasted like cigarettes. Assuming you’d kiss. So he brushed his teeth again and changed into an outfit he didn’t hate and then worried that he was overthinking it and should have gone with his first outfit, and needed another smoke. Which meant he had to brush his teeth a third time. It took all his willpower to not ask the uber to pull over so he could have another quick puff. But then he was at your place and you were there and he wasn’t panicking anymore. Maybe it was because you looked jittery and nervous and something in his brain overrode his own anxiety to ease yours, or maybe you just had that effect on him. Whatever the reason it meant he could focus on helping you relax. “D’you wanna grab something to eat?” He was nearly positive you hadn’t eaten yet, too anxious. “Uhh, s’pose so,” “Has anyone ever told you you’re indecisive?” “I swear I’m not normally.” “Oh? Do I make you nervous, snookum?” Ben inwardly groaned. When the fuck did snookum become a thing? Why won’t you stop me Y/N? Please god stop me from flirting with you!  It was a relief when he made it to the McDonalds without any more slip ups and he could focus on his food and encouraging you to eat yours. He felt things were going well as you walked hand in hand through the bottle shop. He’d squeeze your hand if he felt you tensing up, make you laugh again, distract you. But then you had nudged him and pointed out the photographer. “Relax, he’s not important,” he said softly, pulling you into his side, trying to keep his own breathing even. Your face had paled at the sight of the camera, and Ben was hit by an overwhelming urge to protect you. He kept you as close as he could, soothed you as best he could. It became easier once you’d reached the shop and could get lost among the other couples and groups of friends, though he caught you checking for the photographer through the glass of the shop front. Ben hesitated for half a second before he turned your head towards him, “Forget the photographer Forget Mary and Peter. Forget our arrangement. We’re just two friends having a fun night out, okay?” This wasn’t the carefree date he’d been fantasising about for months. But he held out hope it still could be. If only he could make you see it. He opened the wine, talked about the art options, anything to distract you from the world outside of the shop. You took a little to warm up but he was glad to see you looking around the room as he went to collect your blank ceramics, taking everything in, and soon enough you were both contemplating designs for mugs, the photographer and the reason for the date seemingly forgotten.

Ben’s hope grew with each passing minute. The longer you were there, the more at ease you became. He got to hear your laugh again, frequently. And the conversation flowed naturally as each of you concentrated on your artwork. The design came to him quickly and he went slow, trying to make his lines as straight as possible and trying to make the engagement ring look like the one you’d spent so much of the shoot wearing. We’re really good at this dating thing. Part encouragement to help when you got nervous, part wishful thinking perhaps. But it was a quote from the movie so you wouldn’t read too far into it. He couldn’t wait to see your reaction to the mug and, as soon as he was done, announced it. “Alright, show me then,” Ben watched closely as you examined the still wet design, chewing on his lip as he tried not to care if you cared that the lines weren’t totally straight or the colours didn’t work. But as soon as you realised what the quote was you smiled. He found himself grinning as you told him how much you loved it. “Thought it was kind of fitting. Plus, it’ll be a nice little souvenir once the movie wraps.” “That was a fun scene to shoot. Best proposal I’ve ever had,” Ben turned the mug back towards himself, double checking for any flaws. He wanted it to be perfect for you, “Best proposal I’ve ever given.” He was on the verge of adding, “My real one will be better though,” but stopped himself short. That would lead to a topic of conversation he didn’t want to deal with. Not with you. Not now. He was a little surprised as you leaned in close and lowered your voice. “Promise I’ll get to keep it after we break up?” “Promise,” he said leaning closer as well. From the outside you must look like a proper couple, whispering sweet nothings as you ignored the rest of the room. His eyes darted to your lips. Kiss her. He could, couldn’t he? He could get away with it. That was what you were there for, to be a couple, to have photos taken of intimate moments. No one would question it if he just closed the gap, not even you. But he hesitated too long, the shriek of laughter from another table interrupting the moment. He leaned back in his seat, trying to put some distance between you before he lost his head again, “So do I get to see mine?”

Ben was nearly speechless when you did eventually let him see it. The guitar with the lyrics beside it. He couldn’t have stopped from smiling even if he’d wanted to. “And how did you know that’s one of my favourite songs?” “It is? It’s just the song I overheard you playing that one time.” That one time. A few weeks previous. Between scenes, as he’d waited for the cameras to be organised around the new set. He hadn’t meant for anyone to hear him, least of all you. But he’d been starting to feel tense and wanted to unwind before filming resumed so he’d gone back to his trailer and taken out his guitar. It was a song he’d always liked but he’d been listening to it more often since meeting you and it was the song his fingers had begun to play without him realising. Now here it was, on the mug you’d painted for him. And you had no idea that when he sang about the stun gun lullaby, he was singing about your laugh, or that you so completely had his attention that no other woman could compare. The song might have been written for someone else but whenever he heard it, it was you being sung about. Was that a sign to not give up hope? His heart ached with how much he wished you loved him the same. Fuck, love? He’d never let himself think the L word before, that was serious shit. But it fit. He was hopelessly in love with you and there didn’t seem like there was much he could do to change the situation.

                                                      ***

Ben looked up from his laptop to see you, brows furrowed, digging through your bag. “Something wrong?” he asked as you pulled your lips between your teeth, worrying at it absentmindedly, in what he had to admit was an adorable fashion. “Uhh, I think I need to go home,” “How come? If you forgot something I have a replacement here. What was it sunnies? Chapstick? A book?” “No, it’s not that sort of-” “Then what? You already have a toothbrush and PJs here,” “No it’s something else... I just think I’d be more comfortable at home today,” Ben tried to keep his voice steady but his mind was whirring with the possible reasons for your sudden wish to leave. Did you know about his secret? “Well a-are you sure I can’t help. We’re meant to be seen together this afternoon and if we leave now they won’t be able to get a shot of us smooching,” You chuckled at his word choice and he found it hard to repress his smile. “I’ll apologise to Mary and Peter, tell them something came up and see if we can reschedule,” “Are you positive there isn’t anything I can do?” You shook your head slightly, “if you really must know my period is a little early and I don’t have any tampons on me. Happy?” “Oh,” he began to laugh at your slight embarrassment, more relieved than embarrassed himself, “is that all?  Y/N, you’re not the first girlfriend I’ve had, fake or not. I’m a 29 year old man I can deal with talking about periods, and I can certainly run to the shop for you,” “No, no, you don’t have to go out of your way like that. I’ve got plenty at home I just didn’t think I’d need any today,” ““Y/N, I promise, it’s no trouble. I feel bad I don’t have anything here for you already. Been a while since I’ve lived with a girl and it didn’t even cross my mind. Seriously, it’ll take me two minutes.” You didn’t look convinced, eyeing the doorway to the hall. “Plus, if I go we won’t ruin Peter and Mary’s plan for today. And the Paps can get a shot of me staring at boxes of tampons like a good caring boyfriend. It’ll help our image.” You hesitated a moment longer, “oh alright, as long as you don’t mind,”

It took Ben two minutes to collect his shoes and wallet and car keys and then he was out the door, assuring you he’d be as quick as possible. On his way out he saw the photographer, getting into position by his front gate. He shot Ben a questioning look at the detour from the set plan as Ben hopped into his car. As he reversed out of the driveway he caught the photographer’s attention. “Making a run to the shop to pick up something for Y/N. Might be a good photo in it,” Ben felt odd talking to the man – a man who he recognised well enough, who had witnessed every intimate moment he’d shared with you (and who had been the catalyst for a number of them), but a man he knew next to nothing about. But he hoped that by leading the photographer away he was ensuring you’d have a peaceful respite from the constant intrusion of knowing you were being watched. The photographer nodded, replaced the lens on his camera and headed to his own car, following Ben to the closest supermarket. The distraction of communicating with the photographer was almost enough to make Ben stop kicking himself for not being more prepared for this eventuality. It was only once he was at the store, standing in front of a shelf of feminine hygiene products that he was truly side-tracked from his lack of foresight, and realised he had no idea what you wanted. You picked up your mobile on the third ring. “Hey, it’s Ben, what do you want?” “Don’t tell me you forgot already,” “No, I mean, what sort. There’s hundreds of boxes to choose from, I have no idea which brand you like or what, um…strength you need.” “Oh,” you laughed and described what your go to brand’s packaging looked like. He scoured the shelves, trying to block out the snap of a phone camera as the photographer got his shot. “Ah, got it,” he said as he finally located the right one, pulling down a box for you now and one to keep in his bathroom for future use, “see you in a few.” “Thanks Ben,” “It’s nothing,” he refrained from closing the call with a love you, instead just saying, “Part of the boyfriend package.” On his way back towards the register he detoured into the tea and coffee isle, picking out a box of herbal tea bags that said For Women on the box, hoping they’d sooth whatever cramps you were dealing with, and then grabbed a box of chocolates in case you wanted something sweet to snack on. The photographer was outside already, waiting to get a shot of him leaving with a full bag. 

It made Ben’s heart swell to see how grateful you were for his haul. He went to the kitchen to make you a tea and himself a coffee as you ducked into the bathroom. “Did you find the Panadol?” he asked, rattling the box of painkillers as you joined him in the lounge. “Yeah, thanks. I took two but I might need more in a few hours, if I’m still here. I’ll buy you a new box if I use too many,” “Don’t be daft. How are you feeling?” “Yeah fine. A few cramps but it’s nothing.” “Do you want a cuddle?” he asked without thinking. “What?” Ben shrugged, “I don’t know, my ex said that cuddling up with me made her feel better. But that’s a different- she probably said it so she had an excuse to make out a bit,” You laughed, “a cuddle would actually be very welcome right now,” “Oh, well in that case,” Ben shuffled over, patting the space beside him, and tried to remember that you weren’t really dating. But he couldn’t stop himself from pulling you tight against him and breathing deeply.

                                                      ***

Ben wasn’t drunk. Not properly so anyway. He was too much of a chatty drunk to trust himself when he was sloshed. He’d had enough to loosen up and to dull the ache he felt whenever he looked at you. And to leave his keys at the bar. Nothing a glass of water and some TV couldn’t fix. He’d lost himself in the show when his phone dinged, nearly jumping at the unexpected noise. It was a text from Joe.

WTF?

It took Ben a few seconds to work out what it referred to but then the afternoon came back to him, the last scene you’d filmed, the photo he’d posted. Shit. “Ah, shit. Forgot I said I’d call Joe. Do you mind if we pause the ep?” he cast around for a reasonable excuse, “We’re trying to organise travel stuff for him and it’s easier if we talk it through rather than texting it all.” “Sure,” you said, already pressing buttons on the remote. “I promise I won’t be long,” “Take your time, it’s fine.” Ben smiled though it slipped as he left the room and pulled up Joe’s number. He shut the door of the room he used when he stayed over, already sure this would not be a conversation he’d want you to overhear. “What the fuck is that photo Ben?” “It’s nothing,” he sighed, “just the last day of filming,” “Are you alright, you sound weird?” “We went out for a drink.” “You and Y/N?” “And the rest of the cast and crew. And, before you say anything, no I didn’t get so drunk I blabbed about anything. I do have some self control,” “I wasn’t saying anything,” “No but you were thinking it. Anyway, I think I’m allowed to have a few drinks under the circumstances. Not exactly easy being secretly in love with your co-star who you’re also fakely dating,” “Alright, alright, point made. But that doesn’t explain the photo,” “Like I said, last day of filming,” Joe waited for more and begrudgingly Ben continued. “It was our last scene together and I wanted to commemorate it,” “Thank you Y/N for being the perfect Edith to my Andy. And thank you @theperfectmatchmovie for finding me my perfect match.” “Y/N said it was a bit cheesy,” “Uhh yeah, little bit,” Joe laughed, “you’re not worried it was a bad idea?” “No. We got told to post stuff, which you already know since Y/Ns posted tonnes and you’ve commented on nearly all of them. Figured I should pull my weight,” “Someone has to keep an eye on you two. Stop you from doing something stupid.” “That’s what you’re doing is it?” “You sure you didn’t post the photo with that caption because you’re dying to tell her how you feel and this is a safe way to do so?” Ben scuffed his foot along the carpet, digging his toes into the rough material and feeling like a school boy being admonished by a teacher, “So what if it is?” “All I’m saying is be careful. You’re keeping two very large secrets and–” “Yeah Joe, I fucking know but I don’t have much of a choice here,” “That’s what I’m saying…look, I know you’re a bit of a romantic at heart but you’re also not the sort to get this hung up on unavailable skirt so I believe you when you say you love her. But don’t let it slip out because that’ll just make things worse.” “I don’t know what I was thinking getting into this mess,” “Neither do I. Frankly I don’t think you were thinking. At least, not about yourself.” “Yeah maybe. Doesn’t really matter though now does it?” “Alright. This is going to sound harsh, but it’s coming from a place of friendship. Just stop.” “What’s that supposed to mean? I can’t just call it quits now, the story is doing too well and Peter has assured me that the numbers are promising or whatever I don’t really know how they measure it. All I know is that people are going to see the movie because of us.” “That’s not what I meant. I understand you can’t get out of the fake relationship stuff. But, maybe you can get out of the other side of things. Just tell her. Intentionally, tell her. I know it’s not what you want to hear and I know you’re going to argue with me and say you can’t but why not? If you tell her and she admits she likes you then great, you can be together for real. Or, if you tell her and she says she doesn’t feel the same then she can’t get out either and you can be miserable together and she’ll at least stop hanging around you so much when you don’t have to be seen together and you can get over her.” Ben shook his head, “It doesn’t matter Joe. It doesn’t matter how I feel,” “I just think this whole situation…sucks for you. A mirthless laugh rose in Ben’s throat, “of course it sucks. It’s fucking shit man. I just keep waiting for her to tell me she feels the same but it’s not happening,” “Are you sure she doesn’t feel something, even if she’s not saying it?” “No I know it’s completely one sided.” “Is there any chance she already knows? You’re not the most subtle guy in the world Ben, maybe she figured it out before you were approached about the fake out,” “No, I don’t think she knows. She wouldn’t have wanted to do it in the first place if she knew,” Ben heard Joe sigh, “I don’t know what to say then man,” “I just wish things were different. I love being around her and being able to hold her and kiss her. But it fucking sucks that it’s only in public.” “What about now that the movie’s finished?” “I don’t know. Maybe not filming together will make it easier to stop thinking about her…I doubt it though. It’s not like I haven’t tried already. I spent the whole of pre-production and the first weeks of filming trying to get her off my mind and I couldn’t I don’t know how and I don’t think I could unless we literally stopped talking to each other entirely and, honestly I don’t know that I could handle that. But again, we’re back at I don’t have a choice here. I have to keep seeing her and being with her and being her boyf-” A door slammed at the other end of the house, making Ben jolt. “What is it?” “Nothing, I think Y/N just went to the bathroom or something.” “She’s at your place?” “No, I locked myself out of my place. I’m at hers. I should go though, we’re halfway through an episode.” “Ben. Be careful.” “Always am.”

Ben hung up with a sigh. Joe could tell him to move on or spill the beans all he liked but it wasn’t so simple. He slapped his cheeks and shook his head to clear it, pulling a smile back onto his face as he headed back to the living room. He was a little surprised to see the room empty but settled himself on the couch once again, pulling a throw blanket over himself. It smelt like you. Without thinking he pulled up Instagram on his phone and revisited the photo. You’d commented on it, less cheesy but there were heart emojis strewn throughout. A similar sentiment to his original caption. He sighed and shook his head, clicking out of the app to find something else to read until you returned. The sound of your footsteps drew his attention. Something had changed. You looked pale and unwell. “Are you okay?” “Fine, thanks. Just tired. Might call it quits after this ep.” He didn’t think you’d drunk that much but maybe it was just starting to catch up with you now. Then again, it had been a long and emotional day. You had every right to be wiped out by it and especially now that you were home with no filming or celebrating to distract you from how exhausting it all was. He offered you a spot under the blanket in case it would make you feel better to have some human contact. Just for that reason of course, nothing to do with wanting to hold you. He shrugged it off when you refused and didn’t really think of it again until the episode ended and you went off to bed. He was still too alert to sleep himself, still dwelling on the conversation with Joe. So he flicked TV channels until he found something mildly distracting, a rerun of a dumb home renovation show that was easy to get sucked into.

When he did finally feel tired enough to go to bed he turned off the TV and the lights and began to tiptoe down the hall to his room. But there was light coming from your room. Not the yellow light of a bulb but the blue light of a phone or laptop. You were still up. Maybe you really weren’t feeling well. He wondered if he should check on you, offer to make you a tea with honey and lemon or something else comforting. Did you need tissues? A pot in case you had to throw up? Someone to hold your hair back? He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes and sighed. This is exactly what you shouldn’t be thinking. He glanced at the light under your door again and then turned and continued his path up the hall. But, after that, he felt awake again. Unable to sleep. There was too much to think about. Maybe the caption on the photo had been a mistake. Maybe Joe was right and he should tell you. Maybe, maybe, maybe. When it came to you that’s all there was. A noise interrupted him, you groaning and the creak of springs as you shifted in the bed. Is she having a wank? That was his first thought. Does she need help? Was his next. Dangerous. Everything fell silent again and he realised you must have just rolled over to try and get comfortable. He didn’t know whether he was relieved or disappointed. He rolled onto his side, pulled the blanket up a little higher, willed himself to fall asleep but it was out of the question. You shifted again, your bed creaking with the movement. Maybe he should check on you, in case you were unwell. Or maybe there was something on your mind too. Maybe he could help. It was bound to be easier to solve than the mess he was in at any rate. He was on the verge of swinging his legs out of bed again when he was reminded of what Joe said about trying to forget you. He could feel that need to protect you, look after you, rising in his chest again. That wasn’t helpful, it wasn’t what he needed. He sighed and stayed in bed and listened to your tossing and turning until he finally managed to sleep himself. Only to dream of you.

                                                      ***

Ben settled the bill, walked out of the restaurant and kept walking. The entire time thinking back on the days, weeks before the fight was due to occur. Something had seemed off about you. Or maybe that was just hindsight. If he had noticed anything, if he had ever thought you seemed out of sorts, he’d put it down to stress from auditions, trying to find the next job. It wasn’t always easy lining up another project after one had finished. He understood how stressful it could be, especially for an actress like you who was on the cusp of something bigger, looking for your big break. But maybe he’d been blind. After that dinner, after everything you said, there was no denying that something more was going on.

You’d been…not your usual self. From the moment you arrived. He’d asked if you were nervous, but he hadn’t been able to see any of the usual signs. No bouncing let, no bitten lip. So nervous wasn’t it. But you weren’t happy either. He had been though, happy to see you, happy to be with you again. Even with the looming argument. Truthfully, he’d been thinking of what would happen after, when you were alone together and able to just hang out or whatever. He should have realised things were going south the moment you told him to stop looking so happy. He just kept repeating the evening over and over, rewinding and rerunning every moment as if he could figure it all out just from that. Another moment leapt to the front of his mind. “So having a public spat doesn’t bother you but you almost lost your lunch over our first date?” “That was just because the whole situation was new and I felt weird about going on a date with you.” That had hurt though he knew he shouldn’t have let it. Of course you’d have felt weird about going on a date with someone you had no interest in just for the sake of a movie. But still, it had hurt. A taste of what was to come. “Are you nervous?” You didn’t really seem to care what he said. Of course, he hadn’t given you the whole truth. It wasn’t totally dishonest to say argument scenes made him more nervous than love scenes but that was omitting bigger elements. Maybe it would have been more truthful to say the concept of a public fight wasn’t something he was particularly fond of. But at the time he’d felt like if he’d said then he’d have ended up admitting that it was especially true when you were involved. That all he wanted to do was look after you and love you, not argue in a room full of strangers just trying to enjoy a nice meal. After that he felt like he hadn’t been able to get you to say more than a few words. You who was usually so open and conversational. You who he’d spent more time with recently than just about anyone else. You who he could always talk to, joke around with. It was frustrating that you wouldn’t just tell him. He remembers feeling frustrated, of getting short with you. He regretted that. But that was when he was sure something was wrong. He might have ignored all the signs before that but as soon as he felt you had closed yourself off, he wanted to know why. Wanted to figure out what was bothering you, what could have happened. A fight with Felicity? Bad news about an audition? Maybe he’d said something offhanded and hadn’t realised he’d upset you (god if thats the case I want to know even more so I can apologise a hundred times over). He asked about it all, wanted to make things better, but then you were letting rip. Completely off book and unscripted, even when he gave you cues to get back on track. He would have been impressed with your performance except he was so taken aback by it. Without thinking he’d reached for your hand. He can see it happening in his mind, as if he were viewing the scene from above. The way you’d wrenched your hand away, leaving his sitting uselessly in the middle of the table. And all he could hear was “clingy and needy” in your voice with such…what was it, disgust? Hatred? And before he could so much as open his mouth to stop you, you were gone. That’s not what was meant to happen. You were meant to leave together and laugh about it afterwards. He wasn’t meant to be walking through London on his own, trying to figure out what went wrong.

It was then that Ben looked up and realised he didn’t know where he’d walked to. He considered stepping into a bar with all the noise to drown out your voice, all the alcohol he could handle to make him forget. Clingy and needy. But he thought better of it and turned to hail a cab instead. What he couldn’t stop himself from doing was calling you, though he was left disappointed when it went straight to voicemail. He listened for the beep as if he were going to leave a message but when the beep came he didn’t know what to say. What could he possibly say? What changed? Am I really so clingy? What can I do? Closer to home he tried again but the same thing happened. He hung up before the beep.

As he was letting himself inside his phone rang and for the length of a heartbeat he thought it was you. But it wasn’t. It was just Peter telling him that the video had gone live, congratulating you both for putting on such a good show, being so convincing. He ran through some early statistics, something about how many times it had been shared already, and then followed it by saying they wanted separation for a few weeks, until the make up dinner. Ben listened in a daze. When Peter finally hung up Ben opened twitter. The video was easy to find. He put his phone down on the kitchen bench and moved to pour himself a drink. Maybe he didn’t have quite as much alcohol as a bar, but he had enough to do the trick. His phone was staring at him the entire time. He shook his head, moved the phone to his pocket and headed to his bedroom. His guitar was there, the perfect way to clear his head. He picked it up, sat on the end of the bed and, without thinking, he played the opening chords of that song. Your song. With a slight clatter as his hands knocked the wood, he let the guitar drop back to the bed, trying to dig his phone out of his pocket. The video was still there, waiting for him. Proof. It wasn’t a nightmare, it wasn’t made up. He couldn’t see your face from the angle it was taken. But he could see the tension in your shoulders, the way you pulled your hand back as if you couldn’t think of anything worse than having him touch you. And he could hear you. Clingy and needy.

Ben watched it just the once, unable to suffer through it again. It wass already playing on a loop in his head, he didn’t really need the visual reminder. And then he called Joe. There wasn’t really much else he could do. No one else he could talk to about it. Joe had seen it, had watched it, and he commented on how good it looked, how real it seemed. “I think that’s because it was. Y/N went completely off book. We didn’t plan it to be like that,” “Is that why you look so shocked?” “Yeah, guess so.” Ben gulped down a mouthful of his drink and wished he’d brought the bottle with him. “I’m trying very hard not to call her something beginning with B right now,” “Joe she’s not a bitch, she’s…I don’t know. Something must have happened, I just don’t know what. “Maybe she’s starting to crack? Pressure of keeping up a fake relationship is getting to her,” “Can you try not to sound too excited by the idea. I’d remind you I do actually love her and if things work out between us I’d like for you to meet her.” “You can’t blame me for disliking her when I get a call from you every other day telling me she’s broken your heart again,” “You’re such a drama queen,” “Fine, I’ll try to keep my dislike to a minimum. But could it be that? I know she doesn’t have the same baggage as you but it’s probably not easy for her either,” “She called me clingy. Needy. Why would she say that?” “Because she’s a bitch.” “Bloody hell Joe,” “Unless…” “Unless what?” “Is there any chance she knows?” “You mean about me? Come off it, absolutely not. It’s not like I tell everyone I meet about it. You’re the only person who knows.” “Alright, then it must be something else.” “What do I do? I can’t,” Ben sighed, “It was meant to be different. We were going to have words at the restaurant and then go home together looking tense and then laugh about it when we were alone but instead…instead I’m home alone with half a bottle of whisky and a fake girlfriend who won’t answer my calls. What the fuck am I meant to do with that?” “Just give her some space Ben. You don’t know it was you. It could have been any number of things. It might just be that she was having a bad day and because you were already set to have the spat, you caught the brunt of her frustration. She’ll call in a day or two, embarrassed and apologising and you can go back to pining in peace. Out of curiosity, what was the fight originally going to be like?” “Oh, um…We’d decided that I was going to suggest she meet my family and she was going to say she wasn’t ready for that and it was all getting too serious or something like that.” “Well, that’s pretty much what she actually said isn’t it?” Ben thought for a moment. He’d been so wrapped up in her description of him, he’d not really thought about the overall message of her monologue, “Yeah, I suppose it is.” “See, she wasn’t as off script as you thought. She just jumped the gun a bit and took you by surprise. I’d guarantee that it’s something else entirely and you just happened to be the unlucky outlet for her anger.” “Maybe you’re right. She did say that thing about pretending everything was okay and acting like we’re serious….how I love her more than she loves me,” “And you’re certain she doesn’t know,” “100 per cent. She’s never had the chance to find out,” “Then of course I’m right, it was just an issue of timing and you being in the line of fire,” “Maybe I should see her,” “No! Bad idea Ben. Really bad idea.” “I just want to be sure it wasn’t my fault. If I’d been less wrapped up in pretending she was my girlfriend then may-” “Stop beating yourself up. Just try not to drink too much and get some sleep. She’ll sort herself out and call when she’s less mortified by the whole thing.” “Okay, yeah,” “And for fucks sake, stay off twitter,” Ben hung up, feeling marginally better but unable to shake the feeling that it was somehow his fault. Clingy and needy. Clingy and needy. Clingy. And needy. The way you’d spat the words at him. The way you’d stormed out. He sighed, slumped forward, and ran his hands down his face. No, Joe’s right, it’s not you. But, as much as he repeated it, Ben still found tears clinging to his palms as he pulled them away.

                                                      ***

Ben looked at his phone and bit his lip. His eyes shifted back to the ocean of brake lights ahead of the car and then back to his phone. He was already running late and the traffic didn’t seem to be moving. God he did not want to be late. Not after everything that had happened. Not after you’d cleared up the mess from the fight, not after he’d made such an effort to be less clingy, to give you more space. Things weren’t back to normal by any stretch but at least you were talking again, at least you’d missed him. The conversation you’d had the previous night, staying on the phone to watch TV. He’d been surprised by your suggestion but equally as thrilled. It had to be a sign that you felt something too. People don’t just watch episodes of TV over the phone for anyone, do they? He was in with a chance, he knew it. But, in the hours after the episode had ended and the call with it, he’d come to one conclusion. He had to tell you. He had to bite the bullet and tell you. If he wanted something real with you, you had to know. And if he kept it secret any longer it could lead to more arguments which he definitely did not want. What he wanted was for you to understand why he’d become so attached, and hopefully, to reciprocate. So he was going to tell you. And he couldn’t be late.

As the car inched forward Ben made up his mind. He was going to be there on time, one way or another. With a thankful word to the driver he got out of the car and hurried onto the pavement, beginning to walk towards the restaurant. He’d spent all day feeling like he was about to have a heart attack, chest aching with how badly he wanted to see you and how nervous he was about your reaction. He wasn’t going to fuck up now. As he walked a display in a shop window caught his eye and he quickly stepped inside. The bell tinkled as he entered, getting the assistant’s attention. She gave him a up and down glance as she greeted him, as if trying to determine the occasion based on his outfit alone. “Welcome to Coming Up Roses, what can I do for you?” “I need a bouquet,” “I can certainly help with that. Any flowers you had in mind?” “Uhhh not really. Spur of the moment,” “Well what’s the occasion then? I have flowers for everything from weddings to funerals, I’m sorry to Congratulations,” “Um, I’m about to tell the girl of my dreams that I’m in love with her,” The woman smiled, “I’ve got just the thing,”

A minute later and Ben was once again hurrying up the street, clutching the freshly wrapped bouquet, his heart pounding as he tried not to worry about how much time was passing. He had to pause at one point to get a map up on his phone, unsure of the restaurant’s exact location. He was further away than he thought and quickened his step, threading through groups of people on nights out, trying not to bump into anyone. You were already there, waiting. He could see you from half a street away and ran to meet you, kissing your cheek and handing over the bouquet before he really registered that that’s what he was doing. It was only as you were smelling the flowers and complementing them that he realised you were there, actually there, and he suddenly felt extra nervous about it all. “I saw it in the shop and, um yeah, I don’t know, they seemed nice, a-and I know you, um, like nice things, so,” Ben wanted to die, wanted to be sucked into a hole in the ground, sent through a time warp, anything to not be there babbling at you like a fucking idiot. “It’s very sweet of you, thank you,” “I’m glad you think so because right now it feels kinda cliché and cheesy.” Shut up “Now you have to carry them around all night,” fucking shut up, “what was I thinking?” for the love of all that is holy, “And god can I just shut up. Sorry.” He didn’t know what had come over him, but he wished it would go away. And things only got worse as he looked you over, took in your whole appearance. Seeing you just made him want you even more, especially with how gorgeous you looked. He wanted to kiss you, tell you. But he had to be able to speak to tell you and he wasn’t going to be able to do that until he relaxed a little. A drink, that’s what he needed. He downed his first one fast, willing it to work its magic. It did help calm him, though your laugh just made his heart race again. Halfway through the next glass he felt like he could say it and was on the verge of just getting it out into the open when you were interrupted, shown to your table. He took it as a sign that it would be bad timing and that he needed to wait. Instead he focused on just having a good night with you. The memory of your last dinner was still in the back of his mind but he pushed it away by reminding himself that things were better now. He felt himself relax more as you talked and with every touch you gave him. The drinks were definitely part of it too but he put it down to you mostly. How much you sooth him, how happy he finds himself when he’s in your presence. He could breathe properly again. You startled him a little by saying Joe would want to meet you but of course, you don’t know that he knows that it’s all a big production so you just meant it in a friend-being-curious-about-the-girlfriend type way. Very far from the truth. But Ben agrees and changes the topic.

When dessert arrived, he thought maybe that could be a good time to say it because it’s the end of the meal and you can leave quickly if you need to. But before he get’s to it he finds himself asking something else instead. “Can I ask about these last couple of weeks?” He hoped he hadn’t wrecked the evening by bringing it up but he was curious too, “Was it good? The space, did you get what you wanted from it?” Ben worried at his lip as he watched you slowly finish your mouthful and set the spoon down. “Yes. I’m not going to lie and say it wasn’t helpful because it really was. Just, having that break from everything. I think I really needed it. But I really really missed you too.” That was a relief. Proof that you were on the same page again, back to normal. And proof that you did care about him. “I’m glad. It was hard not seeing you but yeah, helped me figure some stuff out too. Confirmed some other stuff.” “Like what? If you don’t mind me asking.” This is it, this is your moment, “Like, um,” He wanted to say it, had the words picked out already but, he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t risk driving you away again, causing another scene. Maybe he could say it back at his place, away from the cameras and the interested public. Maybe that would be smarter. All the same, he felt disappointed with himself for not having the guts to just tell you, and to try to cover the moment asked if you wanted to leave. As you step outside he remembers the kiss that was expected and he leans in to remind you. It’s more than a kiss though, different to all the other times you’d kissed. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t looking forward to it. Any excuse really. And he says as much when he, somewhat accidentally admits to having missed kissing you. It was a thought that somehow slipped out of his mouth, but either you didn’t hear him or you were too caught up in the moment to say anything. Or she feels the same. He pushed the hopeful thought down as you kissed him back. His heart pounded as he felt your hands on his chest, as if it were trying to tell you what he’d been too much of a coward to say. And then you whined and settled on his lap and god what a fucking gorgeous sound. He’d spent months getting off to the memory of a hum and now you were gifting him a whine? An eager, excited whine at that. The sort of thing he’d been trying to imagine and it was so much better than anything he’d come up with. Your hand was in his hair and he very nearly echoed your noise back to you from that alone, but it caught in his throat as you kept kissing him, tongues twisting, your chest pressed against his. He wanted to hold you close and touch every part of you he could reach all at once, unsure of whether to grab your arse or you hip or the back of your neck. So he did a bit of it all, slid his hand along your arm and then down your back and then to your arse. And all too soon it stops. He could have cursed that driver and the heartless car horn that interrupted and sent reality crashing back down around him.

Once you were inside the safe zone of his house, away from the act, he expected things to go back to normal. You’d take off your makeup and then make a cup of tea and fill a glass of water for your flowers and you’d wind down with something on TV before you both went to bed. He’d have to have a shower to get off without you suspecting anything because there was no way he was going to be able to sleep with the memory of your tits pressed against him and your whine and your kiss swimming around his head. But you don’t walk to the bathroom like you normally do. He pulls the wallet from his pocket, places it deliberately next to his keys. But you still haven’t moved. He turns slowly, notices the way you swallow and lick your lips and he swears he’s on the verge of asking what you’re doing or saying something about it being a mistake, at least the thought crosses his mind, but you were standing so close (when did she get so close?) and when you kiss him again he just kisses back.

It’s a mistake probably, definitely, he knows that. He can hear the siren in his head again telling him to stop, pull away. But the problem is that it doesn’t feel like a mistake, doesn’t feel like it should be, and when he takes a step back you step with him and again and again until he’s somehow on the couch with you on his lap again. And why would he stop that, why would he say no to you when you fit there so perfectly and you feel so good? And all he can think about is that whine and that hum from all those months ago and he wants to see what other sounds he can pull from you so he drops his lips to your neck. “Wait, wait,” He’s confused as to why you’re stopping him and even more confused when you’re not in his arms anymore. “It’s rule one Ben,” Bugger rule one. Bugger all the fucking rules, you’ve broken most of them tonight anyway if they weren’t already broken. A voice in the back of his head reminds him what a big mistake that would be, but it can’t argue against making out. Making out isn’t against the rules and you know it too, you hesitate when he says it out loud. “I’d be good to you Y/N, you know I would,” he’s not sure if he’s talking about here and now, physically, or something deeper, something in the realm of boyfriend but what does it matter because both are true. You shake your head, “You know this isn’t real, right Ben?” And then it all comes out. That you knew about his crush. And everything stops. Just stops. He can’t breathe, air doesn’t exist anymore, and he’d say his heart had stopped too except he can hear it pounding in his ears, drowning out whatever you’re saying. You knew? You’d known for months? All those times Joe had suggested it, all that time he spent worrying about keeping it from you and you already fucking knew? And then everything seems to speed up all at once. The air rushes back, as loud as his heart, which only doubles it’s pounding until he can feel it trying to punch a hole through his chest and escape. Rational thought returns, connecting dots and drawing conclusions almost faster than he can keep up. “Is that why you were upset before the argument? Is that why you didn’t want to see me for the last two weeks?” “I thought some space might help you stop feeling that way.” He has to laugh at how fucking ridiculous an idea that is. That space would have ever helped him purge you from his system. Love isn’t that easy to get rid of. And his tongue must have sped up with the rest of his body because he’s saying it, the thing he’s been putting of saying, the thing he’s been wanting to tell you all night, and he wishes he could stop because this isn’t how he wanted it to go. This wasn’t how you were meant to find out. But no matter how much he screams at himself he can’t take it back. It’s out there. And you look horrified. “You love me?” Three words have never been spoken with more contempt than you managed to cram into that once sentence. “You don’t have to say you don’t feel the same, I know.” Your silence cuts through him like a knife, shredding what little hope remained. His heart isn’t beating against his chest anymore. It’s been kicked across the room and lies lifeless against the wall.  “That’s what I thought.”

He can’t be here anymore, can’t look at you. He wants to leave but he remembers all the cameras outside, reminds you of their presence in case you’re planning the same escape he is. He’s trapped there and so are you. So he puts as much space between you as he can, heads to his room and slumps heavily onto the end of his bed. All he can think about is those three words, you love me? Not a hopeful question. Not even stunned surprise.  More of an accusation. He tastes blood but otherwise barely notices when he tears his lip with his teeth. You must hate him for getting you both into this mess. He hates that he’s done it, that he’s put you in this position. And he knows you’re never going to want to speak with him let alone see him again. And he knows that as soon as the cameras leave, you’ll leave too. And that thought hurts just as much as everything else. You’re moving about, he can hear you walking around. It sounds like you’re pacing. Five steps and then a turn and then five more steps, another turn. Something about the rhythm breaks through his overactive, panicking, worrying mind. Something about it calms him. Maybe it’s that knowing you’re restless and agitated makes him want to comfort you, despite everything he’s feeling. Or maybe it’s just because the sound of your footfall means you’re still here. And if you’re still here then maybe he can smooth things over. He doesn’t expect to fix everything. He’d understand if you still wanted to erase him from your contacts and pretend you were only ever colleagues. But if he can just explain himself, explain that he never meant for this to happen, explain why he kept it from you or tried to anyway and maybe explain what he’d wanted tonight to be instead of the clusterfuck it’d become. If he can get any of that out then maybe you won’t hate him quite so much.

He says your name softly, not sure he’s allowed to say your name, “I heard you pacing.” “Sorry, I’ll keep the noise down.” “No, that’s not- it’s okay. I just thought, since we’re both clearly awake and since they haven’t left yet, I thought you might like a cuppa.” “I didn’t think you drank tea,” Have you really not noticed yet? He never bought tea bags, until you started coming to stay over regularly. Twice you opined about not being able to have a cup of tea before bed and that was all it took for him to start keeping them in his cupboard along with the biscuits you prefer. That’s how he knows it’s love. He took a breath as he pulled out mugs and stuck the kettle on, resolutely not looking at you. If he looks at you he’ll spill his guts and won’t be able to stop. He has to make tea first. Just the way you like it. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier.” It comes out the second he looks at your face and it’s only that you’re telling him you understand that he doesn’t immediately say more. He drops his eyes to the brown liquid in his mug, undrinkable in his opinion, but a perfectly adequate distraction. He needs to get the words right this time. No stumbling and stuttering, no blurting things out without thinking. He needs to say it right so you’ll listen and understand what he’s trying to do. “I promise I understand where you’re at and I’m not going to try and convince you or to chase you or anything like that. I really am trying not to feel this way.” He glances back at your eyes, terrified of what he’d see there. “It’s okay Ben, I know you wouldn’t. I just wasn’t expecting you to drop the L bomb.” “Please don’t hate me,” it’s a whisper compared to everything else he’s said but there’s no way to make his voice stronger. It’s the thing he’s most worried about and admitting it out loud to you is harder than he imagined it would be. “I could never,” the sincerity with which you say it is almost enough to make him cry but the hug is what pushes him over the edge. It’s more warmth and kindness than he thinks he deserves after everything he’s done. And it’s exactly what he needed. Comfort and reassurance in one simple gesture. He wraps his arms around you for the third time that night, his face pressed into the cook of your neck, and you let him, squeezing back, as he lets everything out.

                                                        ***

The night after you met Joe, Ben visits him again, this time without you. It had always been the plan, to see Joe a few times, as much as the press circuit would allow, while he was in the US. But after the previous night it’s more necessary. And yet, Ben was struggling to vocalise any of his questions. It’s not until after dinner, when Joe suggests they take their drinks out onto the veranda, that any of it comes up. It’s peaceful out there, sitting in the cool night air, each of them taking turns to swig from their beer bottle as they talk. But Ben’s mind is constantly disrupted with thoughts of you. It’s the first time since all the promotion stuff started that he’s had more than a couple of minutes away from your side. Joe isn’t helping, constantly glancing at Ben, frowning, as if he’s trying to work something out. But he’s the first to crack, making it easier for Ben to talk. “How’s it going?” “Press is fine, bit boring. You know how repetitive it can get,” “And you know that’s not what I meant,” “Yeah. Nah, everything’s fine. Mostly,” “Mostly?” “It’s not easy having to share a room with her. I mean, it’s fun though. I’m glad she’s the one I’m doing all this shit with. We’re mates and we’ve been working so closely for so long now that we…get each other. Like there was this interview where one of the questions made me uncomfortable and she knew straight away and broke in to take some of the heat. She just says whatever she can to make me laugh or ease the tension or whatever will help. And I know when she’s getting nervous and needs a break or a fresh cuppa. But when it’s just us in our suite it’s…hard. I don’t know, I’m just trying to keep some distance even though there’s not much to be had. What did you think of her?” “Honestly?” “Of course,” “She’s perfect for you. Except for the not being interested part.” Ben nodded, letting his eyes fall to where his fingernail was digging into the label on his bottle. “Although…” “What?” Ben looked back at Joe, “You think she might be?” “I don’t know. And I don’t want to get your hopes up. She certainly doesn’t think she is. I asked her about it while you were out here last night and she was adamant that she doesn’t think of you that way but that’s not how it looked to me.” “We had a moment yesterday. Just before we came here. Nearly kissed.” “Seriously? Again?” “I stopped it. Kind of wish I hadn’t. Maybe if something happened, she’d change her mind,” “I know I’m not part of this situation and I wasn’t there and can only go off of what you’ve said and the one time I’ve met her but, for what it’s worth, I think you made the right call.” “Yeah?” “I don’t think you want anything to happen with her until you’re both more sure where you stand. Definitely not while you’re stuck sharing a hotel room.” “But what if -” Joe shook his head, “I watched her last night. She looked at you a lot and not just because you were the one talking. She also smiled a lot whenever your attention was on her. I was half expecting her to say she had a thing for you but wasn’t sure if she should tell you or something like that. So I think there is a good chance she is attracted to you but for some reason, doesn’t want to admit it and I think sleeping with her would just make things more complicated and worse for both of you. You said she had her little freak out thing when you were hooking up after that date. You don’t want to let things get further and have her freak out again.” “Yeah, you’re right. I’m just confusing myself because we’ve been in such close quarters. I just wish things were more certain y’know? Like, she keeps saying she doesn’t like me as more than a friend but then we’ll have a moment like we did in the hotel, or like on the plane when she was leaning on my shoulder to help with my crossword puzzle, or when we fucking made out. And then I’m back getting my hopes up only for her to turn around and crush me again. And it’s probably nothing anyway. Just pent up urges since we’ve been fucking trapped in this for months now.” “I don’t know man, it might be more than that. She seemed really into you last night.” “Nah. She’s horny and I’m there and that’s why we’ve had these near kisses and stuff. She’s said she doesn’t like me so that’s it. Maybe it’s better that way anyway.” Joe shook his head again but let the subject drop, “So how long are you here for again? There’s this restaurant up the road I should take you to.”

                                                      ***

The closer he got to his parent’s place the more tightly wound Ben felt. Bringing a girl home to meet the family was always at least a little nerve wracking – wondering whether they’d like her, whether she’d like them, how many embarrassing stories he’d have to sit through. But he could safely say that with you it was worse than with anyone else. There was so much history with you, despite never having legitimately dated, that he couldn’t stop thinking about. You meant so much to him. And he knew his mum was going to love you (how could she not) and that meant he was going to be asked why it took him so long to bring you around and about where it was headed and they were questions he didn’t really feel up to answering. Of course, on top of all of that, there was the prospect of sharing a room with you, maybe a bed. You hadn’t entirely worked out the arrangement and not knowing was just making him more nervous. Not just for himself either, for you as well. If he was nervous he could only imagine you were too. You were going to be facing questions as well, judgement from a new family. A family you didn’t even want to be part of. So he kept close to you all night. Because it’s easier to pretend to be a couple when you’re by his side and it’s easier to avoid tough conversations when he has the excuse of introducing you to someone else up his sleeve. And it’s so much easier to keep his folks away from you when he’s got your hand in his. He does circuits of the garden with you, chats to everyone with you, repeating the story of how you met and the fiction of how you started dating. And the whole time he’s trying to make sure you’re comfortable and enjoying yourself at least a little because you don’t even have actual feelings for him to push you on. He’d gladly endure first meetings with every single member of your family tree if you asked but he knows you’re only there because you have to be. Unfortunately, he’s also had a bit to drink so eventually he has to relieve himself, silently cursing his bladder because it means he has to leave you on your own. You don’t seem to mind too much. If anything, it feels like you’ve found your feet and are actually having a good night which he’s glad for. But he still goes as quick as he can.

He’s on his way back when he sees you and instantly realises something’s wrong. Your leg is bouncing so rapidly it’s a wonder you don’t knock the underside of the table, and you’re looking around as if you’re trying to find him. His first thought is that someone has said something inappropriate. There’s plenty of drunk cousins around and who knows what one of them might have said or done in a misguided attempt to be charming or impressive or flirtatious. But then he realises who you’re sitting next to and his stomach drops. So he hurries over to the table and takes the seat beside you, laying his hand on your knee to try to calm you. It works well enough for you to be able to sit there a little longer until he can find a reasonable excuse to leave the table and his mum. He’s not in the mood to be at the party anymore and leads you to the exit, politely waving off anyone who tries to convince you both to stay a little longer. “Better?” he asks once you’re outside, relieved when you say yes. “She mentioned us getting married,” “What? Why the fuck would that have come up?” Ben couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He’d been prepared for a lot but not that. “It was just a passing comment but I….” “It’s okay, c’mon, let’s go home you can tell me everything.” Without thinking he pulled you into a hug, breathing out when he felt you lean into him.

By the time he got back to the house Ben wanted another drink. You’d sat under his arm the entire ride back, keeping quiet, obviously lost in thought as you absentmindedly played with his fingers. Every brush had made him want to take your hand properly and tilt your head up to kiss you, irresponsible and selfish as it might be. One of the upsides of being back home was knowing where his parents hid their best booze, so he dug out a bottle of his dad’s Johnnie Walker, feeling a little like a teenager again, pinching a drink to impress a girl. You laughed though so he counted it as a win. But the reason you were alone together, no longer at the party, was still weighing on him and clearly on you as well. “So what happened back there?” He handed you a glass and waited until you felt you could speak. “I guess it was just harder to be around your family than I was expecting.” Everything you said made sense he supposed. He’d not really considered it that way because he wasn’t so much lying as just playing pretend. But, as much as he wished you were on the same page, he understood where your guilt came from. He tried to make you laugh again but when it didn’t work he set his glass down and took your hand. “Seriously, Y/N, there’s nothing to feel guilty about. The premiere is coming up in a couple of weeks and then pretty soon after that we’ll break up and I’ll tell them it just wasn’t working. They’ll accept it and never have to know the truth. And then we can forget this whole thing and move on.” His chest tightened at the thought of it, not being allowed to even pretend to have you anymore but he clamped down on it for your sake. “But it must be hard for you too. Having me here and everything,” He half shrugged, looking down at where his thumb was brushing the back of your hand softly, “I’m a big boy, I can handle it.” Ben glanced back at you, about to tell you it was sweet of you to care about how he was doing, but when he saw your expression he stopped.

He was a little shocked by the kiss, stumbling back a step or two, the warning siren blaring in his head again. Everything told him to run away and yet his feet were frozen in place. Joe had been right when he said he shouldn’t do this, and he’d been here before. It hadn’t gone well then so what made him think it would be better this time? But somehow he can’t find the words and you kiss him again and he decides he’s going to let it happen. He’s sick of trying to fight how badly he wants you and you clearly want this too. If you didn’t you wouldn’t be trying to undress him. He decides he’s going to let himself be selfish for once and just go with it. After the decisions made it all turns into a bit of a blur really. You’re leaning against the table and then he’s carrying you up to his room and it’s like every almost kiss, every missed opportunity and pent up moment you’d never let yourselves have is breaking all at once. You’re on his bed now and god he’s wanted you like this for so fucking long and who cares if it’s wrong. One night won’t matter. And he’s surprised by how wet you are when you pull his hand towards your cunt but he loves that you’re taking the initiative and that you clearly want him just as much as he wants you. You don’t tell him to stop. You tell him how to touch you, what feels good, and he loves that about you too. Even more than he loves how you sound saying his name as you clench on his fingers and shiver through your orgasm and fuck, he thought the whine from last time was a captivating sound but it has nothing on this, on how you sound when you cum for him. He’s going to be thinking about that moment, about you saying his name like that forever. He wants to be inside you, wants to hear it again, wants to make you feel even better and he’s forgotten where you are and how you got there so he leans over and realises this isn’t this room. This room isn’t as prepared as he’d like. For a moment he thinks that’s it and maybe it’s for the best except then you say you have condoms as you get up and rummage through your bags. He wants to know why – were you planning this or are you always just prepared like that? – except then you’re coming back towards him and he really doesn’t care why, just that you do. You climb on top of him and he feels breathless at the sight. He wants to worship you, every inch of you, and he wants to be as close as possible, pushing himself up to kiss you again because he loves you. He says it without meaning to but he doesn’t care, he’s just trying to get you to moan his name again, rubbing your clit until you’re both finished, breathing hard against each other. You’re kissing along his jaw and he wants to stay like that forever, blissed out and tangled in each other’s embrace. But reality rushes back, ignoring how desperately he’s trying to cling to the moment, and he realises how messy everything suddenly is. It hurts too. Knowing it’s not real, knowing that you don’t want what he wants. He remembers what he said just moments before, that confession whispered against your lips, and it makes him feel queasy with embarrassment on top of the heartache that’s already setting in. How many times does he have to put himself through this pain before he gets it through his head? It’s not reciprocated. It never will be. “I’ve gotta…” Ben nods his head in the direction of the door, hoping you’ll fill in the blank yourself. He wants to leave but he also wants to stay there with you, so he settles on shifting out of your reach and looking over at you, not quite able to meet your eye. “I wasn’t expecting that to happen,” Weren’t you? “Neither. Are you okay?” “Yeah. I, um, it was really good and I-I think I kind of needed it.” Ben tried to smile but it didn’t feel like it worked properly. Sure you needed it. A quick fuck to break the forced dry spell. He wanted to run from the room, flee the scene “It was good for me too. Really good. But it can’t ever happen again.” He averted his eyes again, focused on slipping back into his underwear. There was half a second where he looked around for his shirt before realising it was out at the table with the unfinished whiskies. He’d have to tidy up so no one would be able to work out what happened.

Ben downed what remained of both drinks, the burn of the alcohol a welcome distraction, though much too brief. He grabs his phone from the table, drops the glasses onto the kitchen sink and heads outside to throw the used condom into the garbage bin. As if he was going to leave the evidence of his cowardice and misjudgement inside for anyone to find. Ben turned to head back towards the door, but he didn’t want to walk through it. Inside he’d have to face you and he wasn’t sure how to do that yet. Instead he walked down the sideway into the backyard, taking a seat on the retaining wall by the flower bed of peonies. It’s not exactly warm sitting there in just his boxers and his fingers shake a little as he unconsciously find’s Joe’s name in his contacts. Joe must be busy or asleep or something (What’s the time difference again?) because he doesn’t pick up. Instead the call goes to voicemail. “Joe, it’s Ben here. Um… you’re gonna laugh so hard when you hear how fucking stupid I am,” Ben forces a laugh himself, “So I, uh, I just told Y/N that I love her….again….while we were having sex.” A pause as it sank in, “I’m not even sure how it…how we got to… We were just talking and then we were in bed and…. But it’s okay because I told her it could never happen again,” Ben thinks of how affectionate you’d been after, kissing his jaw and his nose, clinging to him, but it wasn’t real, it was just your post-sex, post-orgasm mood. He starts to laugh, less false but not entirely natural either, “I have to drive back with her tomorrow. Christ. Talk about bad timing, huh. But it’s fine though, it’s fine, totally fine. Joe, it’s fine. Because it wasn’t real. We’ve both been pent up and she spent all day with my family and had to listen to my mum talk about us maybe getting married. This was her reward. And that’s all it was. And I’m the idiot for hoping it could ever be more than that. I mean it’s not like friends don’t sometimes fuck, right? Especially when they’ve been drinking and pretending to date. Sex doesn’t have to mean feelings and it doesn’t for her and that’s fine.” There was that tight feeling in his chest again. Ben cleared his throat. “The drive will give me a chance to tell her it was a mistake. Because it was. This whole thing was a mistake. It was a mistake to fuck her and it was a mistake to bring her to meet my family and it was a mistake to pretend to date her and the biggest mistake of all of them was falling for her. And I haven’t been doing enough to reverse that. I know I said I have been, but I haven’t. I got caught up in the maybes and what ifs and I didn’t really try to move on. But now I…. It’s gotta fucking end sometime. I can’t keep doing this. So I’ve got to tell her it was a mistake and I don’t love her. Maybe I never did. Maybe I’m the same as her and it was all just because I was horny. Whatever. Now I can move on with my life. She doesn’t love me and I don’t love her and she’ll just be some bitch I nailed and we’ll both be happy, right?” Ben sighed and swiped at his blurry eyes. He’s not sure if the voicemail cut out midway through his thought process but it probably doesn’t matter. Movement from upstairs catches his eye. You in his old bedroom, getting dressed and leaving the room. He’s a little worried that if he heads back inside now he’ll bump into you on your way to get a drink from the kitchen but he can’t sit outside in the chill air all night. He takes a breath and swipes his knuckle over his eyes again before heading back inside, creeping towards the bedroom. You weren’t anywhere to be seen, though he guesses that means you’re in the bathroom. When he reached the bedroom again, he dug into the closet and pulled out a number of spare blankets, stealing a pillow from the bed. It’s not a particularly comfortable nest that he makes but it’s warm and doesn’t smell as much like you as the bed does. The pillow still holds a trace of you, but he flips it over and the scent is gone. He’s there when you get back, already pretending to sleep, curled in on himself facing away from you. “Ben?” He squeezes his eyes tighter shut, listening as you flick off the light and tiptoe back towards the bed. There’s a creak of springs as you get comfortable and then another as you move again. “Ben?” Your voice sounds even softer that time and Ben is tempted to answer but he bites his tongue. “Ben I-I…. Goodnight.” There’s another creak as you settle back down again. Ben lies perfectly still until he’s sure you aren’t going to move again. He doesn’t want to hear whatever you’re trying to say. It’ll just be everything he already knows. So he keeps quiet and feigns sleep in the hopes that real sleep will bring it’s respite sooner rather than later.

                                                      ***

Ben’s phone rang and he admonished himself for hoping it was you. He was meant to be getting over you. Besides, the hope was misplaced. It was his mum. “How did Y/N’s audition go?” “Uh,” It took him a moment to remember the excuse he’d made up, “yeah, well I think.” “She’s lovely, Ben. I’m glad you finally let us meet her,” “Yeah,” He didn’t know how else to respond but his mother didn’t need much more encouragement than that. “You should bring her back soon, I’d love to have more of a chance to get to know her. It was a bit hard with so many people there.” “Yeah, um, I’d have to check when we’re free.” He said, dragging his fingers through his hair. “I’m sure you could find one night for us,” “Yeah. But there’s the premier coming soon and we’ve both got auditions and meetings lined up so I don’t know for sure. But let me talk to Y/N and we’ll find a day that works.” “Maybe a weekend? You could stay for a couple of days then, wouldn’t have to rush off.” “We’ll see. Depends.” “Don’t leave it too long honey,” “I won’t mum. Sorry, I’ve got to run, expecting a call back about something.” “Alright, love you,” “Love you too mum,” Ben threw his phone to the other side of the couch and sighed. He’d been expecting that call but that didn’t make it any easier to get through. Not when he’d spent the last few days thinking about that night and everything that had happened. The way your lips felt on his, the way you’d looked sitting on his lap, the way you’d sounded when you came. He shook his head as if he were an etch-a-sketch but the thoughts didn’t disappear, they just morphed into thoughts of later, in the car on the way home. How you’d nodded when he’d said he didn’t love you, clearly overjoyed with the news but trying not to show it.

 Ben hadn’t gone cold turkey with you, there was still some contact, but he refrained from anything too unnecessary, spent as much time as he could with his other friends, and tried to keep any replies to you as simple as possible. Unfortunately his parents was less restrained. A few days later his mum called again, checking if he’d had a chance to invite you over yet. The day after he received a message from his dad suggesting he come down for lunch on the weekend (and encouraging him to bring you along), and then a couple days after that there was another call, one which he ignored. Every time he was thrown back to that night. But not even ignoring the calls helped. It just left him dwelling on everything and it didn’t even deter them. When next his mum called he found himself in yet another conversation on the topic and only just managed to stop himself from hanging up in her ear. He couldn’t do it anymore. It was pointless, all of it. The part of him that had thought you’d fall for him if you slept together had been proven wrong so there was nothing left to hope for. But with his family and friends thinking you were dating, always asking after you, and with you texting him memes and requesting his help, how was he meant to move on? What he needed was a clean break. But the breakup wasn’t scheduled until after the premiere and it wasn’t like a date had been set, it was up to the studio or your agents or someone else. And Ben wasn’t sure how he’d be able to wait it out that long.

 A breakthrough came in an email from Peter, an update about the movie Ben had signed on for. Originally it was meant to film in England, but those plans were in the process of changing. Part of it would still be done around London but now it seemed a big portion of the filming would happen in Spain too. Peter seemed unsure as to how this change would clash with the plans for the breakup but Ben saw it as the opportunity he needed. He wouldn’t be leaving until after the premiere anyway so it wouldn’t change your last public appearance together, but it would also work as the clean break he’d been looking for. Plus, as he reasoned to Peter, they could use the distance as an excuse for why the breakup happened. Peter seemed to like the idea and agreed that the change of location wouldn’t affect anything enough to make Ben drop out. Ben was relieved, having been excited about the project since he first picked up the script, and began looking forward to getting away from you properly. Being in a completely different country would give him the time and space he needed to stop thinking about you. It would be easy to sever all ties to you and get on a plane and move on, maybe meet someone who could drive you from his mind. He’d have to break up with you though, not just through the press but as a friend too. He couldn’t have you texting him while he was away or commenting on photos he posted online. It had to be complete. He had to remove you from his life entirely. After the premiere would be a good time to tell you. He’d pull you aside at the party or maybe tell you in the limo on the way home. It’d be hard to explain but you’d understand. She’s probably been wondering how to get rid of you anyway. Surely, you’d be pleased to hear he was going to leave you alone, not bother you with his stupid feelings anymore. You’d agree it was for the best.

                                                      ***

The night of the premiere snuck up on Ben. He’d been distracted with warding off his parents every invitation, on top of sorting out everything for his trip to Spain. Before he knew it the night had arrived making him feel equal parts excited about seeing the final product of what he’d spent so many months working on and anxious about seeing you. All he could think about was what he was going to say to you. He felt bad about cutting you from his life but there was relief too, knowing it’d be over soon. As he dressed in the suit his stylist had picked out he went over the speech he’d mentally written. It’s just a breakup, you’ve done it before. Tell her you’re sorry but you can’t see her anymore. That’s all you have to do. So, it was with this confusing mixture of emotions that he got into the limo and he only felt more ill at ease as he approached your place to pick you up. “You look lovely,” he said as you climbed into the car beside him. It came out more robotic than he meant it to. But there was a sense that this was the last time he’d be allowed to properly look at you so, while you were getting settled and taking in the interior of the limousine, he allowed himself a final chance to look you over. A hundred other adjectives to describe how beautiful you were, all dressed up and glowing, popped into his head but he kept those to himself. He couldn’t second guess his decision now. It was the only way to stop caring about you. And yet, he could feel his resolve crumbling just from being near you for the first time in weeks. No. Don’t let her get to you. This is why you can’t be in contact. Ben felt his hand curl into a fist as he reminded himself how useful the space would be. What he needed was some rules, guidelines to follow to help him stick to his plan. He ignored the irony as he came up with them. No holding hands. Actually, make that no physical contact. No voluntary physical contact anyway. He was bound to be asked by someone to take a photo with you or appear on camera with you and he couldn’t refuse if they asked for him to touch you or kiss you or anything. Do as many interviews as you can without her. That would hopefully keep interactions to a minimal. Don’t look at her during the movie.

 It was surprisingly easy to stick to the rules as you both made your way down the red carpet, but he knew it wasn’t so much his choice as it was how busy and noisy and chaotic everything was. People called his name from every side, reporters looking for quick interviews, fans looking for autographs or photos. He was able to sidestep you easily, answering questions that were thrown at him on his own until someone asked if they could speak to you both at once or get a photo of you together. Whenever you were waved over to join him, he attempted to maintain as much space as he could, but you seemed to have set your own rules just to make it harder for him. You took his hand, leant your head on his shoulder, stood so close your leg brushed against his, stroked your hand over his arm, anything and everything you could to be closer to him. Ben wasn’t sure if you really were acting more affectionate (clingy and needy) than normal or if it just felt that way because he was attempting to hold back. He put up with it though, unable to do much besides press on to the next interview without you. The hardest part was when you reached a bank of photographers who wanted a number of photos of the happy couple. Someone called out for him to kiss you and then suddenly the entire crowd was calling for it. He kept it soft and brief, though a part of him regretted not making the final kiss you’d share better.

 After that he was able to escape you for a little, talking to people as everyone gathered in the theatre to watch the movie. He didn’t look at you again until he was on stage with you, introducing the film and saying his words of gratitude and celebration. But even that didn’t last long and then he was able to take his seat and focus his attention on the screen. Watching himself was always a bit of a weird experience. Part enjoying what he’s helped create, part critiquing his performance, and part wondering why it had been edited the way it had been edited. But somehow it was even stranger sitting beside you and watching you play at being in love with him. He recognised expressions, small smiles and looks, that you’d given him on dates during the course of your relationship. Just proof of how fake everything with you was. It left him with a bitter taste in his mouth and an oddly jealous feeling in his gut. And he could feel you looking at him but he stuck to his rules and kept his eyes fixed ahead.

 He turned to his other side afterwards to talk to Alfie, wondering aloud how everyone would react to the movie and laughing about how well it had turned out. Ben couldn’t think what to say to you, knowing the inevitable end was coming. It was closer now that everyone was heading to the after party. So he was grateful when Alfie joined the two of you in your car. “You two ready to party?” He laughed, “Fuck I love that work gives me such a good excuse to get plastered.” Ben laughed along but he was stuck by the realisation that of course there’d be drinking. He’d have to watch how much he had, especially around you. He didn’t want to say something he’d regret or not be able to explain himself properly. “I think shots are in order to get us started. Meet you both by the bar?” “Sounds like a plan Al,” “I’m making yours a double Jones. We’ll have him dancing on the table by the end of the night, right Y/N?” “Oh I’d love to see that.” Cameras flashed as the small group got out of the car. Alfie headed off down the line, catching up with one of the others, leaving Ben and you on your own. Ben felt you press into his side, hanging off his arm, and thought about what waited in the club. Alfie with shots followed by champagne and cocktails and whatever else would be pressed on him during the night. He didn’t want to blurt it out or let it slip in front of other people. He had to tell you before he’d had anything to drink, just in case. It was now. It had to happen now.

 As soon as he was inside, Ben looked around for somewhere he could have a quiet word with you, somewhere no one was likely to overhear. A nearby mirrored hallways seemed the perfect place. Everyone else was busy heading into the main room and it was out of view of the photographers still hanging around outside, waiting for the stragglers to show up. “Can I speak to you over hear a sec?” he lead you around the corner, looking around to double check for eavesdroppers, “So, there’s something I need to…Y/N?” he realised you hadn’t been paying attention, probably keen to get inside and celebrate. “Yeah, sorry, Um…” Ben didn’t hear what you said next, too busy trying to remember everything he wanted to tell you, “I was going to hold off until later but I don’t want to let something slip after a few drinks or anything like that. I can’t do this anymore. This whole thing was a mistake that I should never have agreed to and I need it to be over now.” He could see how confused you were, “You know they’re going to break us up in like a week, right?” “Yeah well, that’s too long to wait. I’m breaking us up now.” He kept talking, sure the shock of it would wear off and you’d agree with him once you’d heard it all, “And…I don’t think I can see you again, not for a while at least. I need some space to forget this ever happened. I, um, I start my new job in a few days so I think they’ll probably use that in the magazines to explain our breakup. And I don’t expect I’ll see you until after it’s finished. If then. So…good luck with that witch movie. Take care of yourself.” He didn’t want to hear you agree with him, didn’t want to hear you say it was for the best or that you were going to suggest the same thing or even a goodbye. So he pushed past you and followed the noise until he found the bar. As promised Alfie was there, with a few others, a shot glass in each hand. He handed one to Ben. “Where’d Y/N go?” “Oh, uh, loo. She’ll be here in a minute.” “Well here’s to a job well done and hopefully some fucking record breaking box office numbers,” “Cheers to that,” Ben clinked his glass against Alfie’s and downed the shot, hissing a little, “another?” “Read my mind,” Ben lost himself in conversation and drinks, chatting with those around him for a while before moving on to talk to more people. Beer in hand, he headed towards the side of the room where a couple of the other main cast were sitting. Claudia looked up as he approached, “Heya Ben! Where’s Y/N? I haven’t seen her all night,” It was only then that Ben realised he hadn’t seen you come in after he’d left you in the hallway. He glanced around in an attempt to spot you, a pang of worry shooting through him but then he stopped looking. She’s not yours to worry about anymore.

                                                      ***

Ben woke up with a minor hangover the day after the premiere. Maybe it was karma. Despite what he told himself, he’d kept an eye out for you all night, but never saw you and he was more than a little worried that it was because of what he’d said. It was tempting to call and ask where you’d gotten to but a quick glance at the clock told him you’d likely still be asleep anyway. Besides, he knew he shouldn’t. He’d told you he wasn’t going to see you again and he intended to stick to his word. Instead he sent a group message to his mates and invited them around for one last hang out before he left for Spain. The next call he made was to his mum. “Hi honey. How’d the premiere go? “It was really fun, movie looks good.” “How long before you fly out?” “Couple of days,” “Shame there’s not enough time for you and Y/N to come over for dinner,” “Yeah, um, about that… we broke up.” “What? Why?” “It just wasn’t working. Mutual decision, we both felt it had run its course but decided to keep it quiet until after the premiere. So, yeah, no dinner, even if I was going to be in the country.” “Oh, honey, are you okay?” “Yeah, fine. Like I said, we both knew it was coming so y’know, no hard feelings or anything.” “It’s a shame, she was so lovely,” “Yeah, well, sometimes things just don’t work the way you think they will.”

The boys arrived in the afternoon, bringing a mixture of snacks and a few beers with them. They settled in the living room to play video games. Ben liked the company. It was a good distraction. Or it would have been if talk hadn’t turned to you. “Bit surprised you wanted us here and not Y/N. Figured you’d spend your last days in the UK with her,” “Why would I when we broke up?” “You what? When?” Ben shrugged, “We broke up. Few days ago,” “Jesus man, I’m sorry,” “Don’t be, it’s fine. I dumped her.” “Yeah but you had to go to the premiere with her right? That’s rough,” “Was a bit but there was an open bar so I coped,” Ben laughed. “Might be time we got him back on the market then,” “What? We only broke up a couple of days ago,” “You’re clearly not too cut up about it,” “What the fuck would you know, you’ve been single for what is it, three years now?” “Well you didn’t tell us when it happened, and you never even told us when you got together. We found out through a magazine, so obviously you weren’t really that serious about her” “We were waiting until after all the movie stuff was done, and that’s bollocks.” “Excuses. Besides, getting someone new to suck you off is the best way to forget an ex. This is your phone right?” “Oi give that back,” There was a scuffle as Ben tried to grab his phone back but he was outnumbered and pinned down as the boys redownloaded his Bumble app and signed in for him, laughing about how he used the same password for everything. “She’s fit, give her a like,” “Oh I like her, might be a bit tall for you though Ben,” Ben rolled his eyes as he watched them swipe on profile after profile until they heard a noise that meant one of the girls had sent him a message. “There you go Ben, didn’t take long did it. You’ll forget all about that Y/N chick in no time,” Ben snatched his phone back, “You guys are such wankers,” “That’s not very nice considering we’ve just got you a new girl,” There was laughter and more teasing as controllers were passed around and the game was loaded. Ben closed the app, thumb hovering over it to delete it again. But maybe they were right. Maybe someone new would be good. He set the phone down again and turned his attention to the game.

                                                      ***

Spain was beautiful and having a new movie to work on was the perfect distraction, especially considering how many stunts, fight scenes, and action sequences were involved. It gave him a chance to meet more people in the industry, people he was excited to work with, and really focus on something other than you. The cast went out together frequently too, dinners at local restaurants, drinks in the hotel bar, getting lost in an unfamiliar city. There was no trace of you there, no reminders of date nights, nothing but work and a new country to explore. Occasionally he’d get a notification that a reporter or curious individual was trying to message him, asking questions about you and the split but he ignored them. Ben deleted the Bumble app too within the first few days, knowing he wouldn’t use it. There was no time, even if he’d wanted to hook up with anyone. He could always reinstall it once he was back home. Once he knew you were in the past. Because the problem was that at some point every night, Ben would get back to his hotel suite and be left alone again. For a while he’d be able to think about what scenes would be filmed the next day, maybe practice some fight choreography. But eventually he’d run out of distractions and then all that was left to think about was you. Peter had sent through the first articles that reported the breakup and since then he’d found himself wondering if you’d moved on yet, found someone else to date now that you were allowed to. He’d considered checking your Instagram account but had held off, knowing it was a step in the wrong direction. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know anyway. He hadn’t gotten over you enough yet to deal with photos of you and another man together.

 This night was much the same as the others had been. Everyone met up for dinner, followed by a couple of drinks and then headed back to the hotel to unwind. Ben decided to call it an early night. He’d spent a good part of the day hooked up to harnesses and wires, being flung at a wall over and over. He was sore and tired figured some extra rest would do him good. He was just settling into bed, trying to keep his mind on the TV show he’d put on when he heard the knock. He listened closely for a moment but it couldn’t be for him, he’d put up a do not disturb sign on his door, so he turned back to the TV and flicked to a different channel. Another knock. It definitely sounded like his door but who would it be? Maybe one of the other actors? But they’d all heard him say he was going to have an early night, so surely not. Again Ben ignored it. The third knock got Ben out of bed, stumbling to the light switch and then the door, ready to politely tell whoever it was to fuck off and let him rest. “Sorry but can you not see the do not dis- Y/N? What ar-” Ben was surprised. Surprised you knew where he was, surprised you’d come there after he’d told you he didn’t want to see you, surprised that you were covering his mouth to shut him up. “You wouldn’t reply to my texts and I didn’t know if you’d listen to any voicemails I left you but I have something I need to tell you so that’s why I’m here.” There was a beat as Ben waited to hear what could be so important that you’d come all the way to Spain to tell him. “I love you.” He gasped but your palm was still over his mouth so he couldn’t say anything. It had to be a joke, didn’t it? But you didn’t look like you were joking. He waited, listening as you explained everything. It was wonderful to know you felt the same but his shock didn’t lessen. He’d been so sure about everything. So sure about how little you’d felt for him, so sure you would have understood why he needed space. And now you were here telling him the exact opposite? It was unfathomable. Maybe it was a hallucination? Maybe he’d got a concussion when he hit the wall too hard earlier. Does concussion make you hallucinate? But blinking didn’t make you disappear and the hand against his mouth felt real enough. “I’ve missed you so much, so fucking much, and all I’ve wanted is to see you again and hear your voice and hug you and I’d really like to date you for real, or at least be friends again because not having you in my life is complete shit.” Ben felt tears prickling his eyes as he realised how backwards he’d had it. You loved him. You. Y/N. You loved him so much you’d flown to Spain just to tell him. “That’s all I had to say,” you said softly, pulling you hand away. Ben staired in disbelief for a moment but you looked as if you were fighting the urge to run for it and it brought him back to his senses. “Thank god,” it was all he could think to say as he reached out to hold you, pulling you tight against him and kissing you the way he’d wanted to kiss you for so long. Relief flooded his system when you kissed back. He didn’t have to forget you or force himself to move on. It had been an impossible task anyway. He was glad to stop trying.

 It’s only when someone makes a noise further down the corridor that he lets you go, asks if you planned to stay, lead you inside and towards the couch. There were things he needed to clear up first, before he could let himself be fully happy with the situation. He looks at you properly then. You look tired, worn out. He’s not sure if it’s from the late hour or the flight or because you’ve not been sleeping properly but it makes him feel guilty that he upset you. He hates that he pushed you away and wasted months trying to get rid of you when you’d both actually wanted the same thing, to be together. But you’re here now. He reached out to brush a strand of your hair behind your ear, almost dizzy with joy that he could do that. “I’m really sorry for how I acted,” You smiled softly as you took a seat and Ben fell into the spot beside you, unable to take his eyes from you. He lets you lead the conversation, trying to sort out his mess of emotions as he explains himself. I thought if I told you I’d never been into you, acted like it, then I could make it true.” “Did it work?” “Of course not,” How could you ever think it would work? That he could just forget you so fast, after he’d fallen for you so hard? “Which is why I pushed you away.” You nodded, seemed to understand where he’d been coming from. He hesitated before reaching out to grab your hand again, a little afraid of touching you lest you turn to smoke and vanish. But you didn’t. He stifled a yawn, hoping you wouldn’t take it as his disinterest in the conversation. He’d stay up as long for as long as it took to go over everything, no matter how tired he was. “Has there been anyone else?” “Anyone else what?” “I saw a thing about you dating again,” That was surprising, not what he’d expected you to bring up. He hadn’t even realised it had been reported on. But he shook his head, explained about his friends encouraging him to move on. It seemed to satisfy you because you leant on his shoulder, let him hold you. He apologised when he yawned again, about to suggest he put a pot of coffee on so he could keep talking. But then you suggested going to bed and he had to agree.

 As soon as his head hit the pillow Ben knew he’d fall asleep fast. Even with the excitement of your arrival and the buzz of joy you brought. He kept his eyes on you. Everything seemed too good to be true. You grabbed his hand and placed it around you, shuffling as close as you could. “You’re actually here, yeah? I’m not just dreaming it?” Ben asked, voicing aloud his biggest worry. “I’m here Ben.” She’s here. In your bed. “Don’t leave, okay?” “I won’t.” She’s here and she’s staying. “I love you,” he needed to say it again, to make sure you knew that he still felt the same. “I love you too,” It was comforting to hear you say it again too, made his heart burst as he kissed you again. He didn’t want to stop but he was much to tired to do anything else. Still, he fought sleep for as long as he could. He’d lost so much time being apart from you that, now he had you back in his arms, sleep felt like a waste of precious hours. Hours he could spend kissing you, being with you, making sure you felt loved. He couldn’t fight it forever though, eventually had to give up. The last thing he saw before he shut his eyes was you, smiling at him, as you lay beside him.

                                                      ***

It had been a long day what with moving you into his house. Even after the boxes were inside and everyone who had been helping out had gone home, there was still a lot to do. Everything needed to be unpacked and put away. Ben had been clearing space on all his shelves and in all his cupboards to fit everything you’d brought with you. Plus there was new furniture from Ikea to unpack and construct. Like the chest of draws he’d been working on before he got up to stretch his legs and grab a glass of water. He caught sight of the magazines that had been left in the kitchen and, chuckling at their stories of marriage and babies, stacked them in a neat pile before he grabbed his drink. As he walked back through the living room he saw you, curled up on the floor beside the box you’d been working through. “Y/N?” Ben shook your shoulder to wake you, trying not to laugh as you blink at him groggily, still half asleep. “Alright, cuddle bunny, up you get. Time for bed, yeah?” “But the boxes,” you argued though it was unenthusiastic and slurred with sleep. “The boxes will be there tomorrow. C’mon, come with me,” Ben half carried you to the bedroom and helped you under the covers, leaving you with a kiss on the forehead before heading back to the draws he was halfway through building.

 By the time he was finished putting the draws together Ben was feeling fairly tired himself. He moved the spare screws off the floor so no one would step on them and then headed back to the bedroom. You were still there, sleeping soundly. Ben paused in the doorway to look at you. It was a sight he loved, you in his bed. The first time you stayed over and slept in his bed rather than the guest room had been a monumental occasion though the novelty of it had worn off a bit now, especially with how frequently you’d stayed at each other’s places before the move. But still, he’d never get sick of seeing you beside him, where you belonged. Same as he’d never get sick of making you tea or trying to convince you to eat an actual breakfast or making you laugh. It was in that moment, leaning against the doorway of the bedroom you now shared, one wall lined with boxes of your belongings yet to be put away, it was then that he knew he wanted to marry you. Have a family with you, spend his life with you. He’d go out and buy a ring once you were moved in properly, though he could hear his friends telling him to wait a little longer, see how everything was living with you first. But that didn’t matter. He wouldn’t have to give it to you straight away after all. But he knew that was what he wanted with you. And now that you were together, after so much time and trouble, he never wanted to let you go.

[freakie-deakie]

Lucas // How To: Hurt My Feelings

tumblr only allows 10 images per post so i had to use my transition images sparingly, i hope it doesn’t make the scene changes too awkward. hope you’re all doing well, sending lots of love!

Warnings: there’s nothing too serious, but there’s a mention of toxic family relations and insecurities about friendships

Masterlist

Read Part 2 Here: How To: Kill an Idea

Lucas x Reader (angst // 9.6k words); ft. stepbrother!Johnny

You were a being made up of words. You lived to think words, to write words, to read words, and to speak words. You were jack of all things debate and a master of sounding like a charming smartass. Your words were always chosen carefully, and because of this, your persuasive skills were deadly.

Lucas was a being of action. He moved as his spirit listed, and was often caught indulging in whatever sins his internal chaos prompted him that day. He built the world around him with his own two hands and lived for the sake of creating his own experiences within his own days. He hadn't an interest in the events of the world, nor the stories in it. You don't think he'd ever read a story in his life. Actually, you don't think he'd ever read.

Perhaps that was why the two of you fit together oh-so-well. He was the Yang to your Yin, the left to your right. Your relationship was a perfectly balanced chemical equation. He made a mess, and you cleaned up after him. You were a mess, and he cleaned you up.

Oh, but you can always get messier, can't you?

"Seriously, Y/N? When was the last time you ate?" Lucas folded his arms over his chest and leaned against your doorframe.

"I ate breakfast," you quipped softly, folding your legs up into your rolly chair. You'd been there for almost two days straight, but your project was finally starting to take shape.

"Oh yeah? And what did you eat?" You bit the inside of your cheek, giving him a guilty smile as you twidled your thumbs. "You can't live off of those damn health bars. Christ- Put your shoes on, we're going out."

"Wait, Yukhei, it's okay, I can just-"

"You have ten minutes to get ready before I carry you out of here on my shoulder," he warned before excusing himself to sit in your living room and wait for you.

Groaning, you moved the blanket from your lap and threw on a pair of sweats. You washed your face and brushed out your hair, and with two minutes to spare, you were slipping into your jogging shoes. "Lucas, are you ready?" you asked, stepping out of your bedroom. Oddly enough, he wasn't on that ugly black couch that he loved so much, nor was he in the kitchenette that fit so snuggly in the corner of the room. He wasn't by the window, nor with the plants on your fire escape. You stepped back to check the bathroom. Empty. "Yukhei?" you called out for him again.

Your heart jumped out of your chest at the sudden jolt of your door, followed by three sharp knocks.

"Y/N? I locked myself out..." Breathing out a steadying breath, you placed a hand over your heart. "Y/N?"

"Hang on a second, you big baby." You rolled your eyes and opened the door for him. "I thought you'd been abducted."

"Sorry babe, I had a call. But don't worry, nobody can abduct me when I carry around guns like these," he grinned, flexing his arms.

"I think I liked you better when you were missing." He scoffed. "But you have to promise me to never leave me without any answers. I'd have to hunt you down if you did."

"I'll never leave you, ever," he gleams, throwing an arm over your shoulder and guiding you out the door. You hummed, wrapping an arm around his waist and syncing your steps with his. "Besides, if I ever tried, you'd lock me in your apartment building's basement and I don't really wanna know what else is down there."

"You'd better not try to escape then," you snorted.

You weren't quite sure how you always managed to end up in such ungodly positions, but as long as you were both comfortable, you couldn't complain. However, at the moment, you were very uncomfortable, and the boy laying on top of you was getting an ear-full.

He'd simply barged into your bedroom, saw you laying on your stomach, and decided that you were the most comfortable matress around.

"Lucas, I have to pee."

"Do it, I dare you."

"Lucas, I can't breathe!"

"Then die."

"You are the-"

"Most wonderful person you ever could have hoped to even end up dating? I know. What do you want for dinner tonight? I'm thinking chicken. Thoughts?"

"I'll buy if you get off me," you groaned.

He perked up at that, finally rolling off of you and bouncing over to your closet. "We're gonna match," he said certainly, plucking a black T-shirt and skinny jeans off of their respective hangers and throwing them at you before going back to fish out the jean jacket and belt he'd bought you specifically for occasions such as these.

He rushed you along, ushering you out of your building quickly, excited to go to his favorite marketplace restaurant. Boarding the transit, he took your hand in his much larger one and turned to you to quietly ask if he could spend the night at your place to watch movies and "get frisky," earning a light slap on the wrist which only made him laugh.

You and Lucas were puzzle pieces that fit together. So for the life of you, you couldn't begin to understand why everything seemed to be falling apart.

"I just can't win against you, can I? You have too many debate trophies shoved up your ass!"

"I just-"

"Stop, Y/N. If you won't try to understand my side, we're done here."

"Lucas, I do understand, I just don't agree. And that's okay because we don't have to agree on everything."

"Yeah?" he huffed. "Well on this, we do."

"What do you want me to do? Fly home to (country) and tell my family that their daughter who managed to escape their victimized mindsets and emotional neglect and finally cut ties with them has a boyfriend who wants to meet them? I don't want you to meet them! I don't want you anywhere around them," your composure finally snapped, letting a tear roll down your cheek. You roughly wiped it away with the back of your sleeve.

"Oh, cut the shit, Y/N. You didn't want to introduce me to your 'toxic' best friend either, or your 'overly protective' brother; they turned out to be completely fucking normal. Maybe it's you that's the problem."

"You mean the beautiful best friend, Soomin, that cut me off after I wouldn't give you her number? Oh, and my brother, Johnny, who slept on my couch for a week after meeting you to make sure you weren't staying the night?"

"So I'm the one causing problems? Maybe if you were less insecure-"

"Insecure? Fine, I'll call Soomin and give her your number. And while I'm at it, I'll just ask Johnny to give my number out to all your frat brothers, since that's no big deal."

Lucas slammed his hand down on your island countertop. "Like hell you will. Look, I just want to meet your family. I'm not gonna ask them to move to Korea."

"Lucas, I'm thrilled that your family likes me so much because you're very close with them and that's important to you, but please don't make me contact my family. I don't want them in my life."

He stepped out that night without another word and remained silent for the rest of the week.

You felt like a vase that held flowers but had no water to give them; you were, on your own, too much of some things and not enough of others. Lucas's silent treatment felt like he tipped the scale by hopping off of his side and leaving you to fall.

"Y/N, listen to me," you whispered to yourself as you opened the refrigerator door. "You are a strong, independent woman and your life does not revolve around a boy." You reached for the fruit drawer and pulled out a peach. Fruit was a large part of your diet when you were sad; it was convenient because there was no meal prep. Uni-students like you didn't have time to cook anyways.

A buzzing sound from your counter pulled you from your thoughts. You wiped the peach juice off your chin with your sleeve and put the phone to your ear.

"Y/N? Do you have a minute?"

"Johnny? What's up tree-child?" You hear a soft chuckle over the line.

"Your overgrown boyfriend hasn't left his room since your little fight-"

"Johnny, you know what it was like for me back home. Your mom and my dad- you don't want to go back either, right? You know how bad it was. I shouldn't have to apologise for not wanting to go back."

Johnny sighed loudly over the line. "I'm not saying you have to apologise to him. I'm on your side, but neither of you are trying to fix the situation. So come to our frat, talk, make out, have angry make-up sex; I don't care what floats your boat, just come see him. You're the only person who I know has the ability to convince him to shower."

"See, dearest Johnny, that would mean I would have to shower. And right now, I'm not really feeling up to the task. So if that's all, then I'll be going-"

"Y/N, please? I'll make you dinner, and I'll pay for two- no, three of your textbooks next semester!"

"What do you get out of this, Seo? What bidding of yours will I be doing if I agree?"

"Can't I just reunite one of my best friends with my sister for the- yeah okay, I can't do this. There's a party next week and he's my wingman."

"Goodbye, Johnny."

You didn't know what to expect if you were to text Lucas first. Perhaps he was waiting on you to, or perhaps not, instead opting not to talk to you. However, you were a being of words, and you were desperately trying to sort through all of the Korean vocabulary that you knew in order to find the best words to give to him. You knew he deserved that, the best of you.

Y/N: Hey, can we talk?

You waited and waited, and thought yourself into hours of self torment. Was that text a mistake? Should you not have sent it? Could you have said something better?

After about an hour of stressing over the message and his lack of reply, you manage to pull yourself off of your couch, take yourself into the shower and sulk in its hot, suffocating water and steam.

And then you, naturally, went crawling back to your phone.

"Johnny, is your offer still up? Dinner and textbooks and shit?" Damn your unusually shaky voice, underused in the time you'd spent away from your significant other.

"Y/N? You sound distressed, is everything okay?"

"I don't know how to take care of myself," you admitted without an ounce of emotion in your tone, only growing your stepbrother's concerns. "You know, you're the only person that has checked in on me since our fight? I'm the one in the wrong, and everyone knows it... I need him, I need to apologise."

You hear something clatter over the line. "Now, hold on Y/N. You don't sound like you're thinking straight. I'm all for you guys patching things up, but not to get back into our good graces."

"Johnny, I'm alone. He's the only person that's ever made an effort to distract me from that."

"Hey, wait, you aren't alone. You have all of us. We're all here whenever you need us, not just him."

"John, I'm either your sister or his girlfriend. The guys in your frat don't want to be friends with me, and that's okay. But I want to hang on to what I've got so I'm coming over to fix-"

Your brother cuts you off with a groan. You don't see it, but he sets his afternoon bowl of cereal to the side and runs his hand through his hair. "Hang on a damn minute. I'll be to your apartment in ten minutes. Please, stay there."

"But John-"

"Stay there."

He cursed as soon as he hung up the call, finally noticing the stares he'd been receiving from the others in the kitchen. They'd watched you slowly unravel his composure until he was rushing to pour the rest of his precious Captain Crunch down the garbage disposal. All for his endearing concern for his stepsister.

"Who was that?" his closest friend, a broad shouldered boy by the name of Jaehyun asked.

Johnny paused, looking back at his friends. "My sister doesn't sound like she's feeling very well. She's pretty torn up about- well, you know."

"Can we help? I haven't seen Y/N in ages," Haechan commented, thinking back to the last time he'd had a chance to hang out with you. It must've been the night you joined them for a Smash competition. He remembered that you were really bad at it- or rather, not as experienced as his fraternity brothers who maybe spent a little too much time practicing.

"I honestly don't really know what's going on, so maybe it's best if I go alone."

Haechan and Jaehyun share a look. "Can you tell her to drop by to see us sometime?"

"Sure will," he agrees before slipping into his shoes and heading out the door. He was quick to get to the bus stop, knowing it'd be leaving within minutes.

When the doors to the bus opened, he took note of only one person stepping off. A pretty little girl with features that told any onlooker that she was Japanese. Her hair was lighter than his by a few shades, locks of caramel resting gently on her shoulders, the top layers collected in a little white bow and the back of her head which matched the flowy white v-neck she was dressed in; jeans and white tennis shoes paired to match.

She was a figure of beauty and grace. She offered him a small smile which would haunt him in his dreams that night. Had he not had prior engagements, he would have spent more time drinking her in as she walked down the sidewalk in the direction from which he had come. The gleam off of her pearl earrings blinded him momentarily, and suddenly he remembered that he was on a mission: a mission to get to you and remind you of your self worth.

When you cracked your door, an arm poked through, attached to a bag of goodies.

"When's the last time you ate?" Johnny asked, still not pushing his way into your space. "I brought ramen and cookie dough. I figured we could do with a night in."

You opened the door wider and lead him into the living room. It was a mess, to say the least. A nice collage of wrappers and tissues lay across the floor, the occasional soda can making things interesting. The dishes in your sink were stacked as high as they could go, and unopened letters lay strewn across your coffee table. Your home had become a perfect embodiment of how you felt.

"Y/N..." he said, looking around at the state of things.

"I know, I'll clean up later," you answered, tucking yourself back in to your spot on the couch.

"I'll help you tonight," he reassures you, setting the plastic bag on your counter and taking out two styrofoam cups filled with dry noodles.

"You didn't need to come, Johnny." The look in your eyes told him otherwise. Maybe he wasn't the best older brother in the world, but he could tell that you needed someone right now and he'd be damned if he wasn't going to do his best to help you.

"I know," he soothes. "I came for me. You were scaring me with some of the things you said and I needed to make sure that you were okay for my own sanity. Do you want beef or chicken?"

Episodes of Sword Gai play lowly in the background, a low hum of a language that neither of you understood. He helped you pick up around your house and clean up your living space. He helped you make cookies, and he ate his fair share of them. Your brother, your closest companion since you were young, sat with you all night and talked. The weight of your words though, it was heavy on his chest.

"Y/N, we've always only had each other. We practically fled a country together. You know that you and I are the first and last people on this planet, right? I took care of you back in (country) and I'll take care of you here."

You sighed, rubbing your temples. "I was your scared little sister who came chasing after you. You deserved to have your own life and live it the way that you wanted. I followed you to Korea, and once again I'm your burden."

"Y/N, you're not a burden. I'm glad you came to my University. The closer you are, the easier I can protect you."

"You shouldn't have to protect me though. You introduced me to your friends because I couldn't make any on my own. Then I met Lucas, and you helped him get into NCT and now everyone there has to deal with me-"

"Y/N, they aren't 'dealing' with you. They actually like you. Not because they have to, but because you're fun to be around."

"I don't know..." You didn't want to outright complain that you hadn't even received a text from any of the members of NCT since your fight with the Chinese boy. You didn't want to admit how badly if hurt to realize that they were his friends before they were yours. Now, not only was there a hole in your heart from your boyfriend ripping himself away, but also the growing cavity from the quiet abandonment of your friends. And now, your brother who'd done so much for you your whole life had to take care of you once again.

"What're you thinking about?" He watches your gaze flicker from the TV to his eyes and back.

"I'm willing to admit that Lucas was right-"

"I don't think he was. And neither do you. He has to respect that family is a taboo subject for some of us. Hell, he knows that I don't like it whenever he brings it up. You can work things out without taking all the blame for this, which would be outright unjust."

"I shouldn't have been so sensitive though," you respond honestly.

"You know I hate taking sides-"

"You do not, Seo," you giggle. His face visibly brightens at the sound.

"Yeah, your right, I love taking sides. I'm definitely on your side about the argument. But maybe he's thought about it too. Maybe you should let him explain how he feels about it now. And of course, I'll be sure to give you my opinions afterwards."

"I guess," you offer him an unsure smile. "I want him back in my life. I want everyone else back in my life too. I guess losing him and then losing touch with my- your friends made me realize that maybe I'm rather expendable." Your chuckle was dry, barely making it out of your throat.

In Johnny's eyes, not only Lucas, but his friends as well had been the ones lacking; yet somehow, you thought it was your own lacking that had let them slip away. How dare they hurt you like this? How dare they make you feel unworthy of them?

"I've always known," you continued, "that they were his friends- and yours. I guess I should start trying to make friends in class if we don't get this worked out, huh?"

"Maybe you should talk to them about that before you go trying to replace your friend group. But you're gonna work it out. No one's leaving you. You should see how desperate he looks right now, waiting for you to come marching into our house and demand to see him. He's got too much love in that big heart of his and now that he can't shower you in it, he looks like his purpose in life has been taken away."

Johnny was always there to take care of you, and you felt you could never repay him for that. His advice and soothing words were invaluable to you. Your brother's compassion was the most precious thing in the world to you, especially in your moments of need.

Of course you made an attempt to call Lucas before you showed up on the fraternity doorstep, but if you wanted something to change, for once you were going to have to do something yourself. You had to be able to move your own two feet without him.

Your three sharp knocks were answered by the only Thai resident in the household, a slender boy with cropped bangs and sharp features. Ten was quick to pull you inside, wrapping his arms around your torso and resting his head on your shoulder.

"Buddha has sent us an Angel; we're saved!"

"That bad, huh?"

Ten let you out of his bear hug and looked you in the eye with a look of (semi-) mock disgust. "Y/N, it's been fourteen days since he came home crying and he's showered like twice since then. Mark and I have been trying to coax him out of his room for days. Please, you've got to do something!"

"Challenge accepted," you said, smiling at the boy in front of you. He always knew how to make your day a little bit brighter.

Your heart grew heavy when you remembered that his concerns weren't for you. They were for his real friend, and you could appreciate that.

You tried to shove those thoughts down in your chest as you stepped around him and started on the long trek to your boyfriend's room.

The couch at the end of his bed was a sacred place for videogames and movie nights, a large flat screen just in front of it. His desk was often messy and usually your problem to clean. His chair was a space for studying and the occasional newcomer into his room, a comfortable space to be welcomed. The carpet was a place you liked to lay when you began to think that mattresses were just a little bit too mundane; then suddenly, you'd think the most interesting thing in the world was the orange peel texture on the white ceiling. On the nightstand was an alarm clock, a charger, and a picture of you - and in it was a bottle of lotion and a stash of jewelry you'd given him over time. Even his dresser meant something to you. You'd picked it out with him at a flea market and agreed to split the cost because it was just too beautiful to pass up. The bottom drawer was full of your clothes and he always reminded you that the dresser would one day live in a space with the two of you, together.

His room was a box of memories, and his bed held the most prized of them all. It's where you laid and let yourself be vulnerable with Lucas. It's where your lives came together, and your stories intertwined, slipping from your lips and knotting together like your limbs under the ceiling fan. Promises of the future, swears of the past, and a comforting and cozy present.

You didn't think before you opened the door; it was practically an instinct now. It wasn't necessarily a shared space, but it's a space that's always been offered to you. You'd never imagined that there would be a time when you weren't welcomed there.

It caught you off guard, the body underneath his. A petite girl with Carmel colored hair that was stuck to her damp skin. Your boyfriend moved on top of her, rocking back and forth against her body, eyes trained on hers.

You quietly shut the door and slipped back down the hallway. Doyoung, exiting his room, stopped your frantic attempt at escape from the house, taking in your wide eyes and seemingly disorganized composition.

"Y/N? What's wrong? Wh-"

"I'm okay," you swore, stepping around him. "I'm just not feeling well, I'm gonna step out for a bit."

"Oh," he says, watching you scamper down the steps. "We have medicine if you need it."

You didn't answer. Your priority was to get out of the front door as quickly and as quietly as possible, not even sparing a glance at the boys in the living room who had greeted you earlier.

You walked like a woman with a purpose, fast and in a straight line, away from the house. You didn't bother waiting on the bus, instead you walked right past the bus stop and started towards your home where you would let your composure fall.

Lucas moved one of the light colored strands of hair from Yuri's face. He was propped up on an elbow, admiring the beautiful girl in front of him. She was someone he'd know for a while, having been in his Sociology class the year prior. He'd seen her every now and again, met with her, fucked her, and left her in the morning. The girl with almost orange hair who always wore white was illusive to all but him. Wanted was the girl who always wore her graduation gift from her grandmother proudly, a pair of pearl earrings.

Normally, he wouldn't have allowed the sweet Japanese girl to stay with him after sex, cuddled to his chest, her bare skin against his. It hurt him too much to think that she wasn't the one who was supposed to be in his arms, and as a constant reminder he was always burned by the temperature of her skin. She was hot, a fire that lit in his stomach and yet left his heart cold.

Yuri blinked up at him, stirring from her soft slumber. "Is it nighttime?" she yawned out. He nodded and shushed her, rubbing his thumb over the soft skin of her cheek. He brought their lips together for a kiss that felt so wrong yet so right. Part of him didn't want to pull away and crash back down to reality, the other part of him knew that the girl needed to leave while no one was awake, lest his relationship with you be damaged.

He pulled away first, standing to dress himself in the sweats and Tee that he'd discarded some time ago. He helped Yuri sit up then dress herself. He placed a chaste kiss her forehead and lead her to his bedroom door, expecting her to find her own way out of the house. But before the door closed, he locked eyes with the last person he wanted to see him sending off his rendezvous into the night.

Johnny did not hesitate to put his hands on the door (rather loudly) to prevent it from closing.

"What's a girl doing in your room so late, Lucas?"

Lucas tried to meet Johnny's eyes, but he couldn't hold your brother's fierce gaze. "Studying?"

"Oh yeah? How'd you two get so sweaty while you were studying. You must've been cramming pretty hard." Johnny fold his arms over his chest just as the color of pink on Lucas's bed catches his attention. He stared at it for a moment before the shape registered in his mind. "And how did leaving her thong with you help either of you read a fucking textbook?"

At this point, Johnny has a fist full of Lucas's shirt and is backing him against a wall. Lucas tries to remove Johnny's hand, but only gets shoved harder into the hard surface, pictures rattling on both sides of his head, the picture of your joint trip to the fair the year prior falls to the ground and shatters.

Taeyong comes rushing in from his room, roughly awoken by his neighbor's commotion.

"Johnny? Yukhei? It's one in the morning, what the hell is going on?"

The intense gaze between the two doesn't falter for a moment. "Yeah, Yukhei, what the hell is going on?" When he doesn't receive an answer, he lifts him off the wall and pushes him back against in with one harsh movement. "Don't ever talk to my sister again." Johnny releases his shirt and Lucas's eyes widen.

"Y/N-" Lucas breathes out, grabbing for your brother's arm and stumbling over his words. "Please don't tell Y/N."

"Ya know, Lucas, she just recently told me that she felt like no one cared about her. Her friends were yours, and while you were out of her reach, so we're they. How could you leave her with nobody?"

Taeyong gasped at that. He considered you a rather close friend and cherished the bond he had with you. He understood where you were coming from but it still hurt that you would misread his intentions as befriending a friend of a friend.

Lucas pulled harder at Johnny's arm, keeping him in place as he tried to turn away. Taeyong took this as his que to step between the two and separate them.

"Please don't tell her," Lucas tried. "Please, let me be the one to tell her. She deserves that much."

Your phone had been dead for two days and you hadn't bothered to even look for a charger. You focus your energy on your Korean history essays and devote your time to working on your computer.

Little did you know, this was sparking panic at the NCT dorms. No one, not even your brother, had been able to contact you. Finally, Johnny decided that he had to check on you (along with the ever persistent presence of his younger friend, Haechan, who demanded that he be taken to see you), taking the public transit to your apartment on the northwest border of the campus.

His knocking earned a prompt "fuck off" from your living room, so at the very least they were sure you were still alive.

"Y/N, open the damn door." You didn't even bother moving from your cozy place on the couch. "For fuck's sake- do you know how long we've all been trying to contact you. Let me fucking in or I'll break the door down."

"I'd like to see you try," you mumbled before a solid 'thud' sounded from your entrance. "John, what the fuck?"

"I said let me in. I gotta make sure you're okay so don't make this difficult."

"For the love of fuck, I'm fine, go away."

Thud.

"Let me in."

Thud.

"Okay, okay stop! You're gonna make my neighbors hate me."

You threw your door open to be greeted by, not one, but two friendly faces with murderous intentions in their eyes.

"You can't just drop off the fucking radar, you had everyone scared shitless that something had happened to you," Haechan snapped before bringing you into a warm embrace.

"I'm sorry," you sighed, wrapping your arms back around him. It felt nice to be in someone's arms again, even if it wasn't the touch you longed for. "I've just had a hard few days."

Johnny, who had already pushed his way past you, was beginning to calm himself down like a passing storm.

"What happened, Princess?" Haechan tried. You cringed and he shrugged, still holding you to his chest.

"Lucas and a girl-" Your eyes teared up and the words lodged themselves in your throat. "He's cheating on me."

Haechan's eyes widen and he presses your head to his chest rather forcefully so that he could discreetly pass Johnny a look of sheer confusion. It'd been the hot topic as the frat, but as no one had been able to contact you since they'd made the discovery themselves, he assumed no one had been able to tell you yet. "Y/N, Princess, what do you mean?" he spoke slowly, unsure of how he wanted to frame his question.

"I went to," you hiccupped, "went to see him and there," you hiccupped again, "there was a girl," and again, "underneath him." Haechan's grip tightens around you. The look he's giving Johnny now is one that would've scared armies away from battle. The look on his face was nothing in comparison to the emotion written on Johnny's own features. The storm had returned, the haze of anger clouding both his eyes and his judgements.

Johnny moved towards the door much slower than he'd come barging through it. Like a man marching off to war, he kept his eyes straight ahead and left the same way he'd came. "Both of you, stay here." The door slams shut behind him, mimicking the sound of a gunshot.

Haechan keeps you in his embrace for a few minutes, rocking you back and forth after the tensions in his muscles began to dissipate. He shushed you until you stopped crying, urging you to get your breathing back under control.

"I'm so sorry you had to see that," the silver haired boy mumbled into your hair before sperating himself from you. "Come sit down. Let's talk about this for a minute."

"That's okay, Haechan. I appreciate it but-" you sniffle.

"Y/N, this is an important talk we're about to have, okay? Listen to me very carefully, and after we talk this out, I'm going to order food from any place in this district that you want." You shook your head but did nothing to interrupt him. "We all just found out a couple of days ago. That's part of the reason everyone has been trying to reach you. Johnny caught him, but he agreed to let Lucas tell you. But because no one has been able to get to you, those two have been raising hell at the frat. That's why it is very important that we can get in contact with you, do you understand? If we have things we really need to tell you, your phone needs to be on so we can get to you. We were all worried that something really, really bad had happened to you."

"So it's true? I'm not being dramatic? Lucas really..."

Haechan nodded, pulling you down to sit with him on the couch and tuck you under his arm. "But listen, I know it's aweful. Johnny is probably going to put Lucas in his place right now. So you and I are going to stay here for now, and talk and eat dinner, and get out everything that you're feeling right now. And soon, that boy isn't going to mean anything to you because he doesn't deserve to take up your precious time or energy. Okay? Now what do you want to eat?" He rubbed your back, patiently waiting for your answer. He would move at your pace for the rest of the night.

"Where is he?" Mark and Taeyong are quick to intercept Johnny's trail, desperately trying to avoid whatever chaos was sure to ensue this hour.

"Don't you think it's a little early to start throwing punches this evening?" Taeyong tries.

Ten enters from the kitchen, a bowl of cheap ramen in his hands, Lucas trailing behind him, rocking the college boy couture: no shirt and sweatpants. Ten had by no means forgiven him within the short span of two days, especially not when he picked plenty of the recent fights with Johnny which promised a rather annoying thrill of excitement every night, but Ten knew that in the depths of his heart he felt sympathy and compassion for Lucas. As frustrated as he was with the younger boys, he couldn't abandon him when he had so few people left on his side anymore. Who else would take care of him if not Ten?

Lucas stopped in his tracks when he saw Johnny, slowly handing off his bowl to Ten to be sat on the coffee table. There was a feral beast inside Johnny that Lucas could see right now, and he was afraid that any sudden movements would invoke a violent response.

"I thought you'd be gone longer," Lucas admits. He had avoided the living room recently, especially when he knew Johnny would be home.

"I felt suddenly compelled to come right back and have a nice long chat with you."

Lucas tensed, subconsciously preparing to be thrown into a fight at any second.

"Wait, where's Haechan?" Mark ask, noting that the younger boy did not come in with him.

"He's comforting my sister. He's doing what I should be doing. But I trust him to handle her with care. I trust him to take care of her tonight while you and I have that little chat." He eyes Lucas, reading every sign that Lucas's body is posting, watching as he takes in those words and deflates a bit.

"You guys told her?"

"Didn't have to. She walked in on you screwing another girl." The room falls silent until Ten begins to choke on his ramen. Everyone looks at him as he turns away to hide his wide-eyed expression.

"Ten?" Taeyong asks. "Do you know something?"

Ten slowly turns around to face the group. "Do you remember that night when we were sitting here when she came over, and then she went running out the door a few minutes later?"

Taeyong's face falls. "Oh my God. Is that really the last time any of us saw her?"

"Fuck, and we didn't even know she needed help."

"Doyoung said she wasn't feeling well; he tried to stop her."

"That was almost a week ago, though," Ten thinks aloud. Everyone's eyes fall on Lucas, the boy they'd momentarily forgotten. His eyes are glassy, his composure fallen. There's a beat before anyone dares to ask about the elephant in the room. "How many times did it happen?"

Lucas opens and closes his mouth like a fish. "Did she really see? She saw me with Yuri?"

"Lucas, how many times did it happen?" Johnny's shoulders are squared. He steps towards the boy but is stopped my Taeyong's firm grasp on his arm.

"A lot," he admits as the first tear makes its dash for his chin. "A lot more than I should have. A lot more than I ever wanted to." As wet as his entire face was becoming, he dare not move to wipe away the shame. "I love her. Oh my God, I love her and she'll never want to see me again."

Mark looks between his two best friends seeing nothing but desperation and fury - two ample types of passion for you. "Why'd you do it then?" His words were soft. He didn't want to stir the pot anymore, but he wanted to know.

"I don't know. I love her. Why would I do that to her?" Johnny's composure cracks but doesn't break. He doesn't take off his armor. He was still there, at his own frat, in his own living room to challenge his former mate.

"She was the reason you got into this house in the first place. If she didn't care about you, I would have never helped you get in."

"Johnny stop." Taeyong pulls back on Johnny's arm, reigning him in and telling him to stand down.

"Why? That's how she feels. She feels like she's less than you. I think it should be the other way around. She think everyone only cares about her because they care about you. I think she should realize that you wouldn't even be here without her. How do you even have the balls to cheat on her after what she's done for you?"

"I didn't want to!"  Lucas defends.

"Then why did you do it?"

"I don't know! I don't know! I don't know if it was because I was bored, or if I was mad at her one day. I don't know how it started. When I started to see Yuri, it just felt like a small break but then we started to mess around more often. I don't know how it started, but I wish it never had. I never wanted Y/N to have to see that."

In one swift movement, Johnny yanked himself out of Taeyong's grasp and nailed one shot right below Lucas's eye before the other three men in the room jumped in to separate the two as much as the could.

"You wish you hadn't done it because you got caught?"

Lucas holds on to his face but managed to stand up straight. "I wish I hadn't done it because I regret hurting her. It would break my heart to see her with anyone else - I can't imagine how it must've felt for her to see that. So yes, I regret her finding out."

Johnny struggles against the restraint of his friends. "Do you regret doing it? Did you ever question yourself while you were screwing around behind her back?"

Lucas didn't answer, instead he walked away. He gather up the few shards of his dignity that he had left, and locked himself in the first story bathroom for the rest of the night.

Haechan made you put your phone on the charger. He warned you that there would be messages from just about everyone in his frat but that you didn't have to open them all immediately. He stayed up with you that night to help you with both your assignments and your heartache, sending you to bed at a decent time (before two in the morning). He sat in your living room, waiting for any news from the dorms before he went back. He ended up falling asleep on your couch.

When morning came, he was abruptly awoke from a sweet dream by the rattle of the door and three sharp knocks. Annoyed, he pushed himself up and went to check who could possibly be so irritating this early in the morning.

He cracked the door to find a not-so-hot Wong Lucas on the doorstep.

"Haechan?" Lucas asked, sniffling quietly. Haechan shut the door, ready to turn back and resume his slumber on the couch before three more knocks stopped him.

He cracked the door again. "She's sleeping, knock it off."

"Haechanie?" You ask yawning as you wonder to his side. You didn't know that he'd been there all night and came to check the door, not expecting anyone to beat you to it. "Who's at the door?"

"No one, Princess. Go back to sleep."

"Princess?" Lucas questioned, clearly uncomfortable with the younger boy calling you by a pet name.

"Lucas?" Your mind wakes up a bit when you register his voice.

"Y/N," he sighs in relief.

"Haechan," Haechan blurts before shutting the door and promptly turning to you. "Y/N, don't let him in. He's probably here to convince you to take him back and you need to remember what we talked about last night. He made you feel like a small person, don't go crawling back to him-"

"I'm not letting him in, don't worry." You wrap your blanket tighter around yourself. "Why are you still here anyways?"

"I never got the all clear to go home," he mumbled, pulling you back into your bedroom. Three sharp knocks sounded once again at your door. Neither of you moved to answer it, instead you let Haechan lay you down in your bed and tuck you into your comforter before he crawled on top of your covers and dozed back off at the foot of your bed.

Lucas left the flowers and food in front of your door, sending Haechan a text to let him know that they were there (just in case you'd already blocked his number). Pulling his jacked tighter around him, he left the building in search of something to make himself feel better after a night of high emotions.

He found himself at the coffee house down the street from your residence. As he waited on his order, he sat at a booth and pondered ways to get you to, if nothing else, accept his apology. With everything in him, he wanted you back. He wanted to forget the stupid fight, he wanted to forget the other girl - he wanted you. That wasn't fair though, and he knew it. It especially wasn't fair that while you were with him, you felt small compared to him. It wasn't fair that he made you feel like nobody cared about you more than they did him. It wasn't fair that your stepbrother had to be the one to voice your concerns for you; you had never felt comfortable telling Lucas about your deepest insecurities when he was supposed to be the one to get you past them. He was only beginning to realize that he hadn't been there for you the way that you needed him to be - the way that you had been for him.

"Johnny is it true that Y/N thinks we don't like her?" Jungwoo asks, placing himself between both Johnny and Jaehyun on the couch.

Johnny sighed. "She thinks that you guys don't like her, but that you're all too nice to say anything. She thinks that because she's my sister, you guys are forced to spend time with her."

"But I like spending time with her," the younger whines.

"I know," Johnny answers simply. "She just," he inhales through his teeth, "doesn't have a lot of super close relationships. Actually, it was really only me and..." He eyes the staircase. "Can you blame her for having trust issues, though?" he asks rhetorically, more towards himself than anybody else.

"How can we show her we care about her? Like, genuinely?" Jungwoo asks, his simple yet quick thought process spitting out one debacle after another.

"I dunno, Woo. I really don't know. Maybe try to text her more? Maybe check on her every now and again?" Johnny thinks to a moment how much of his private conversation with you he wants to share. He determines that no true friendship deals in lies. "She wanted to apologise to Lucas for the fight they had a few weeks ago. She was willing to be wrong in her principles if it meant she could have that one deep connection back. She said no one had really contacted her since they'd started fighting. She said she felt alone."

Jungwoo's eyes swelled up to the size of saucers. Had he really been so neglectful? Had they all?

"I'm not telling you this to make you feel guilty. She'll never be honest about her emotions, though. She told me that if things didn't work out with Lucas, she would have to start trying to make new friends in class."

"Would she really replace us like that?"

"To her, it's not replacing something if you never really had it."

"She wouldn't even try to talk to us?"

Johnny shook his head. "That's what I'm saying. I wasn't going to tell you that, I don't want you guys to feel bad about it. But if I didn't say something, you'd never know how she felt."

Jaehyun, who'd kept his quiet so far, finally spoke up. "Well I hope she's accepting visitors. We've clearly left her to deal with her problems alone for too long."

"Let's go after breakfast," Johnny suggests, nearly being cut off by the ring of his phone. He excuses himself from the living room to answer it. "Hello? Y/N? What's up? We were just talking about you."

He doesn't see it, but you cringe a little at that. "Uh, hey, are you busy right now? Should I call you back another time?"

As off put as Johnny is by your tone, he doesn't question it. "For my adoring sister? I'm never to busy for you."

You wonder if he was genuinely not doing anything or not. "Really, we can talk later if-"

"Y/N, I'm not doing anything, what's going on?" The line is quiet for a moment. A sickening moment.

"I think I'm gonna transfer back home." Your brother feels his stomach drop. "I've been thinking about it for a while now. I just think it might be the better option for me. I don't know many people here on campus, I struggle to keep up with my Korean classes. I just think it's time I stop following you around like a lost puppy, ya know?" The line goes silent as you wait for his response. "Hello?" You wait. "John?"

"No." His answer is simple and definite.

"What do you mean 'no?'"

"I mean you're not leaving just because you're insecure. You and I both know you're doing wonderfully in your classes this semester. Why would you leave that behind? Because a boy cheated on you? Because you think no one wants to care about you? You're not leaving Korea."

"I wasn't asking. I was just letting you know." Johnny feels his heart break for you.

"On purpose! I care about you on purpose. We all care about you on purpose. Why do you keep trying to take yourself away from us?"

"You shouldn't have to care-"

"You think it's up to you if I care about you or not? That's not your decision. And it's not your decision whether or not the rest of NCT cares for you either. Why are you so hard headed?" Johnny groans loudly into the mic.

"I'm not enough of anything to be cared about."

"Shut up." He promptly hung up and grabbed his jacket.

Your tiny apartment wasn't really made to accommodate many people at once, but the five overgrown boys standing on your doorstep pushed their way into your apartment and made it work.

"Let's take a vote," is the first thing out of your stepbrother's mouth as soon as he crosses the threshold. "All in favor of Y/N transferring say 'aye.'" A silence falls over the boys. "All opposed say no."

"No," Jungwoo is the first to speak.

"No," Jaehyun is quick to follow.

"No," Ten says sternly.

"No," Taeyong adds.

"You have been unanimously voted to keep your ass in Korea and the court rules in favor of putting a bounty on you if you try to escape."

"Wait, wait, wait," you finally get out. "This isn't a democracy; your vote is irrelevant."

"Y/N, why do you want to leave so badly?" Ten asks, crossing his arms and leaning against your island.

"I have to learn to take care of myself. I can't depend on Johnny or Lucas to do that for me anymore."

"Is this really what you think is best for you?" Jaehyun asks, a tinge of guilt in his words.

"I don't know, I guess we'll find out in five weeks when the semester ends in December."

Lucas pressed his palms into his eyes, temporarily making himself see stars. It was cold, a thin layer of snow covering the ground and buildings outside. There was a blanket thrown over his shoulders but it did nothing for the morbid freeze that so deeply effected his mood.

It was midnight when he woke up. Really, he no longer had a desire to eat, and he couldn't make himself sleep anymore lest he grow physically sick. He was left to wallow in his thoughts as he stared out his window, watching the snow fall so peacefully.

"Did I do this?" He asks himself. "She's leaving because of me? Was it me who made her feel so small compared to everyone else? Was it me who made her feel so small compared to Yuri?"

He'd stopped seeing her, his fling. He came to realize that there was a hole in his heart that she could never fill. When he had you, perhaps Yuri was a fun toy to play with on the side. When you were stripped away from him and his sense of comfort was taken from him, he no longer wanted to play with her.

He tried not to contact you. He didn't deserve your time - but he wanted it.

He found himself standing outside of your apartment at one in the morning on a freezing December night. Public transport, if it even ran in this weather, had been closed for the night. There were no students wondering the campus either. He braved the elements alone.

Three sharp knocks. They weren't particularly loud. If you were asleep, he wanted you to remain asleep. But if you weren't, he needed to see you. He wanted to hold you, and kiss you, and love you; he needed to see you. You weren't his toy, you weren't his game - you were his survival, his comfort, his energy, his breath.

"Lucas? What are you wearing? It's snowing out there, are you crazy?"

"Please don't leave."

"Isn't it a little late in the night to be talking about college transfers?"

"Please don't leave me."

You'd seen Lucas cry about a lot of things. For such a physically built man, he was very emotional. He cries when he stubs his toe. He cries when he sees a dead animal on the road. He cries when he laughs to hard. He cries when he's drunk and misses you, no matter how close you might be. He cries over a plethora of movies from sad romcoms to cheesey action movies. Never have you ever seen Lucas sob. He was hysterical and unfiltered, and still in the middle of the hallway.

"Come in, Lucas. It's okay, come in." He steps inside, wiping his runny nose of his sleeve.

"Please don't leave me," he repeats. "I'll be better, I'll do better. I know you deserve so much more than me but please let me be selfish and keep you."

"You'll be better without me," you reassure.

Lucas out himself on his knees in front of you, his hand reaching out unsteadily to hold yours. "Please, Y/N. Please. I'm sorry. God, I'm so sorry. If I could take it all back, I would. I swear I would. I hate myself for ruining what we had."

"It's okay, Lucas." You cradled his head to your waist and shushed him, letting his arms wrap around your legs. "It's okay. I wasn't enough and that's okay. You needed something else, that's okay. I wish I would have know, sure. I wish maybe you would have told me that I wasn't enough, but I understand why you did it."

"No, no, Y/N. No, that's not right at all. You were perfect - too perfect, and I wasn't enough of a man to cherish that. I'm not a man without you. I'm a scared little boy. Y/N, please, I love you."

You shush him and run your fingers through his hair until he calms down a bit.

"Lucas?" You ask softly. He hums in response. "Did we ever break up?" You feel his entire body tighten around you as he tensed. He pressed his face harder against your abdomen and cries harder."I'm not going to end it with you," you sigh, "I can't live on my own, you know that better than anyone. I'm so tired of being alone. I need you too."

"I don't have the words to describe you. I'm trying, but I don't know how to tell you what I feel right now."

"Then don't tell me in words."

"You know, I have really hated your life decisions lately." Johnny quips from the driver's seat. "I hate that you're studying abroad for an entire semester. I detest that you got back with your ex, and I am repulsed by the fact that you're wearing sandals in December. Your decisions just suck."

"But I'm making them," you smile at him. "It's only a few months, I'll be back from Bordeaux before you know it."

"I'm glad you're going to France instead of going home. For a minute there, I thought you'd really gone off the deep end."

"Thank you for talking me down from that."

"I really wouldn't have let you go, you know. I would not be driving you to the airport if I wasn't one hundred percent sure that you're going to France."

"Thank you."

"We're going to miss you, Y/N. All of us, we really are." You thank him and offer a warm smile.

"Are you sure you can take care of Lucas while I'm gone? Without killing him?"

Something serious flashes in Johnny's eyes for a second. "I will never see him the same. I hate that you forgave him. But it's your life, and I support you."

"He and I both had to change a lot over the last couple of months. He had to learn to cherish someone that he so often took for granted. He knows now what he did to me, he's made effort to change and I've forgiven him. I had to learn to cherish the people in my life too. I had to learn how to accept that I'm cared for. No body is perfect, but both of us are trying to be good."

"If you've both changed so much, are you still both the perfect opposites?"

"I don't know. I don't think so. I don't think I'm the same person I was before the fight."

"Oh yeah? What about him?"

"Hardly." Johnny hummed in acknowledgement. "I think maybe, he's the word now. He's an idea, an emotion. It's my turn to be the action. I get to live my life for me, now."

"You've always been strong," Johnny adds, pulling into the airport parking garage. "I'm glad you finally realized it."

"I'll be back in June," you remind. "I'll come back stronger than I've ever been before. I'll be able to do things for myself."

"We'll all be waiting for you. Six months?"

"Six months."

"I can't wait to meet you again in six months."

[ateezmakemeweep]

sk8erboi!yeosang x ballerina!reader 

word count: 10k

angst, fluff, smut (tw: implications of an eating disorder)

whoever made the executive decision to put a skatepark directly across the street from a dance studio really should've put more thought into just how poorly that would've gone. 

because ever since its grand opening four months ago, you've been losing your mind. you remember when the only sound coming through the large studio window was birds chirping or the faint sound of an ice cream truck or the occasional barks of dogs greeting each other.

but now. now it's the constant racket of wheels rolling on concrete, boards flipping and clattering off the large, graffitied ramps and, of course, the obnoxious quarrels and curses coming from the group of punks you always have the displeasure of seeing (and more so hearing) every monday, wednesday and friday.

"i'm gonna kill them, i swear i'm gonna kill them one day," you complain to your friend as you untie the ribbons of your ballet shoes, "i've had enough of them!"

the sound of her snort has you whipping your head to the side, eyes squinted and eyebrow raised. "what was that laugh for?"

"oh, c'mon, you've been saying this shit for months, y/n," she says while rubbing her bruised, battered feet, "have you even spoken to them?"

"god no," you say, the disgust so evident in your voice, it's like she asked if you'd make out with them.

"well, maybe you should!" she chirps, jumping up and walking over to the windowsill. "they're really ho...nice, really nice."

"oh jesus christ," you grumble, sneering at the girl whose chin is perched on her hand like she's admiring works of art outside the window. "have you talked to them?"

"a few times," she says and you roll your eyes at the breathy, dreamy tone in her voice.

"don't tell me you like one of them."

"of course not," she says, neck craning back to shoot you a wink, "maybe just like three of them."

"oh my, god! i'm leaving." and leave you do, with her laugh echoing through the studio as she shouts that she'll see you at the next practice.

once you're outside, you peer up to see her head is still outside the second-story window staring dreamily across the street and you can't help but shout up at her. a smirk makes its way on your face when she at least has the decency to jump away and hide in embarrassment before seeing it was you.

"not nice, y/n!"

you shake your head as you make your way across the street, popping in your headphones so you can go over the routine in your head over and over and over again until your ears start bleeding and brain turns to mush.

it had been your mom's idea to stick you in dance the second you learned how to walk, wanting to see her daughter follow in her footsteps in the form of pink tutus and glittery makeup and first place trophies from competitions.

but you quickly realized dance was more than that. that it brought sense of stability and purpose you so desperately craved, a work ethic that made you want to master the art of ballet. 

because even though it makes your feet ache and bleed and you'll spend the rest of the night screaming into an ice bucket, you really have come to love it. it serves as a stress reliever for when schoolwork or your mom's nagging becomes too much.

you're only a minute and 20 seconds into the song, the pirouette techniques you've rehearsed for hours beginning to plague your mind, when a skateboard flying through the air misses your face by just a few inches.

you rip out your earbuds, classical music blaring out of them as you snap your head to the board that nearly knocked you out. a figure running past you snatches it up, about to turn and run passed you again with the quietest of hums; rage fills through you because not even an apology?

"yeah, i'm fine, thanks," and you're even a little thrown off by how how biting and sarcastic your voice sounds. 

the figure turns to look at you, a smirk threatening to cover his face as he looks you up and down in your pink leotard under white shorts and sneakers.

"my bad."

"yeah, no kidding. you could've knocked me out."

he rolls his eyes, tucking the skateboard under his arm and advancing toward you a bit more. a black hat is placed backwards on his head, your eyes narrowing at the holes in his baggy long-sleeved shirt and scuffed up vans.

"it was an accident," he says, tone calm and relaxed, "and maybe if your mozart wasn't so damn loud, you would've heard me shout."

a scoff leaves your mouth, leaning on one foot as your arms cross over your chest.

"it isn't mozart," you snap, annoyed by how calm and teasingly he's looking at you. "and you'd think you'd be a little bit better since you're here all the time. isn't the board supposed to stay under your feet?"

a laugh bubbles out of his mouth and you're gonna pretend it's the ugliest thing you've ever heard, not a nice deep boy chuckle that would normally make your heart flutter.

"you a stalker or something?"

a annoyed sigh leaves your mouth as you roll your eyes because this guy is unbelievable.

"as if. you and your annoying little posse make it really hard to concentrate during practice with those stupid deathtrap boards."

his neck cranes around you ever so slightly to survey the studio, the brick building with a large white window overlooking the picturesque town. he had figured it was a dance studio, after seeing girls walk in and out with buns and leotards and bags detailed with ballet shoes.

"ah, so you're one of those prissy dancers i take?" his head nodding across the street.

your mouth drops open at his statement only causing the smirk on his face to widen; you have half the mind to smack him with your bag.

"we're not prissy! i bet it takes a lot more skill and pain tolerance than balancing on that-"

"stupid deathtrap board? yeah, you're probably right," he says before turning his head and taking another step closer to you. "but you have to admit we look a lot cooler. where's your little tutu, constanze?"

your eyebrows pinch in confusion, giving him a strange look because who the hell is constanze?

"what are you even talking- you know what, who cares," you huff, irritation flooding through you the more you humor him with a conversation. you pop your headphones back in to start over your song, throwing him one last sneer with squinted eyes. "try to keep the board on the floor next time."

"wear a tutu next time!"

but he knows you definitely don't hear him because you just continue to walk straight, your head moving in circles and arms making subtle movements side to side. he smiles to himself watching you ‘dance’ until you turn the corner before hopping on his board and skating back into the park.

and it's the same way he skates up to you two days later as you wait to cross the street, your pink bag thrown over your shoulder as hear the familiar sound of wheels on concrete that causes your blood to boil.

"constanze, where is your tutu?" his voice whines and you look to the side to see the obnoxious boy from a few days ago now wearing a beanie.

"why are you calling me that?" you ask with an annoyed tone.

"you mean to tell me a priss like yourself doesn't know who constanze is?"

"stop calling me that! you don't see me calling you a punk."

again, that deep chuckle leaves his mouth and you wish it didn't sound so nice. wish he wasn't so carefree and calm when you can't help but feel so incredibly irritated by him.

"a punk? really?"

"yeah, really."

"what makes me a punk? the fact that i skateboard?"

your foot bounces impatiently on the concrete waiting for the walking man to appear on screen, eager to get far far away from this headache of a boy.

"amongst other....attributes."

"oh?" he hums, leaning his head against the dirty metal pole and you wanna cringe thinking about how many germs are on it. "you don't even know me, though.”

"but i know your type," you spit, now turning your body to look at him, "i know i've heard your obnoxious cursing and screaming for the past four months. and i know you call me names when you don't even know me."

"oh, but i know your type as well constanze. so stiff and rigid and orderly, i bet it's killing you that i'm on this germ infested pole right now."

your eyes widen for a split second because can he hear my thoughts? before you shake them out and squint your eyes at him.

"what's wrong with liking routine? sorry we all can't just skate off into the sunset and do ollies all day."

"oh, ollies?" he says, voice teasing and eyebrows raised like you've genuinely impressed him. "now how do you know about those?"

your cheeks warm at his tone and you praise the gods above when you see the white man signal to cross the street. you quickly turn, hitting his stomach with your bag and rushing across the street.

"come by when you’re done if you wanna learn how to do an ollie, constanze!"

you resist the urge to throw your middle finger up when he calls after you, pulling open the door and stomping up the stairs muttering under your breath.

"why the hell does he keep calling me constanze," you grumble, "and who does he think he is assuming he can just-"

"oh my gosh!" your friend squeals as she runs up to you, "what were you doing talking to yeosang!"

your body stiffens at the name, yeosang, and despite never meeting anyone else with it, you're convinced it's only reserved for annoying punks.

"how do you know his name?" you ask, walking over to plop down and take off your shoes, "he nearly knocked me unconscious with his stupid skateboard the other day!"

"oh?" she squeaks, "and you talked again today?!"

her excitement causes you to sneer at her, shaking your head because "you sound way too happy about this."

as you put on your toe cap and spacer, you listen to her mule on and on about how cool the boys look flying through the air and how hot their scars probably are and you could seriously throw up when she starts to talk about one of the boys and his skilled technique.

"what do you even know about skateboarding techniques?" you chirp; she had never seemed interested in it before.

"i don't know, there's like ollies or something, right? that's basic stuff. i'll go over and be like oooh your ollies are just so impressive-"

"i am so embarrassed, please stop talking."

she throws her head back with a giggle, plopping down in front of you to tie up your ribbons and begins to, thankfully, talk about one of the parts of the dance she's been struggling with.

but after the next two and a half hours of practice, feet bleeding and throbbing in pain, it's safe to say not a single one of you are having any more issues.

"they hurt so bad," you whine the second your shoe is off, squeezing and rubbing at your abused toes.

"that extra time was rough," your friend says, laid out flat on her back with her eyes closed.

you both just sit there for a few minutes, hoping that the throbbing in your feet will simmer so your trip home won't be spent limping and suppressing groans. but no such luck because the second you say goodbye and walk down the stairs, you wanna die.

you make your way across the street, headphones in but no music blaring because you can't even think about dancing right now. but you can absolutely think about murdering who you now know as yeosang when a very familiar looking skateboard rolls out the park gate and runs into your ankle.

"you're kidding," you snap, kicking the board roughly so it falls on it's side, "you did that on purpose!"

"i didn't, i promise," he says, "but since i caught you...can i teach you an ollie now? i've been waiting for you."

"well you waited for nothing, i'm not interested."

"c'mon, a skillful ballerina like yourself will pick it up in no time."

you roll your eyes at the sarcasm in his tone and you'd step on his skateboard if your feet weren't aching.

"i don't think i wanna learn from someone who can't seem to keep his feet on the board."

"well, then you'll just have to see how good i am," he hums lowly, flipping his skateboard over with his foot and kicking it up so he grabs it with his hand.

"wow, you can catch it," you say dryly and a smile covers his face as lets out a scoff.

"not that, wiseass, there's a competition on friday. come."

you feel your eyebrows shoot up in surprise before you squint at him suspiciously. why on earth would he be inviting you?

"and why would on earth would i do that?" you echo.

"to see me, silly constanze. and let me prove that i can teach you."

you ignore his use of the mysterious name despite the irritation flooding through you, simply rolling your eyes as you shake your head.

"not a chance, i don't feel like getting rendered unconscious. and i don't even wanna learn."

"but your friend's are coming too," he says and your eyebrow raises again because that's news to you; but then you think he may be using that as bate for your interest.

"they would never," you spit, as if they don't fawn over them constantly before and after practice. and the smirk on his face is like he knows it, too, all smug and teasing and you think it's about time to get the hell away from him.

"i'm leaving," you bluntly state, "good luck on friday. you'll need it." you hear him laugh as you turn around coldly, taking three steps before you hear

"i won't, i'll have you there."

"no you won't!" you shout before starting your music and trying not to focus on your aching feet.

"because you wouldn't!" your friend whines to you after your friday practice, "that's why i had to spring it on you, like, right now, in this very moment."

and damn yeosang who was very much correct when he said your friends were going to the competition because the second your teacher left, she ran up to you with puppy eyes and a small smile begging you to join her.

"everyone else is going, you don't need me!"

"but you're my best friend, y/n, i want you there," she whines before looking side to side and whispering, "i want you to meet wooyoung."

"who the hell is-"

her hand covers your mouth before you can get the name out, her eyes bulging and you feel your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"don't talk so loud," she whispers, "i don't want everyone knowing i like him."

"something tells me you make it very obvious," you say the second she removes her hand from your mouth.

"ugh, see, that's why i need you there!" she says while perking up, "so you can stop me from becoming an obvious, flustered mess. what if i blurt out about ollies to him."

your cheeks heat at the memory of yeosang's teasing and you let out an annoyed huff. because you know she won't stop until you say yes and she is one of your best friends and you truthfully just want her to stop looking at you with her borderline creepy puppy eyes.

"fine," you huff out, "but you're buying us food after."

"yay, yay, yay, yay! okay, deal, perfect, let's change!"

and with that, she runs off into the hallway to change and you know with absolute certainty it probably took her an hour to pick it out. like how nearly an hour later, you're sitting on the uncomfortably hard bench with far too many people shouting and whooping like this is the damn super bowl.

you look at your friend in annoyance who's just bouncing in her seat excitedly, her eyes roaming the boys lined up near the ramps until you see them light up.

"there he is!" she whisper-yells to you and you crane your neck to look at the group.

"which one?"

"the hot one! with the dark hair, in the red plaid. next to- omg, he's next to your man."

"shut your mouth," you mumble but you can't even lie that he's looking extra good today, sporting a burgundy beanie with black jeans and matching converse. he really looks like the embodiment of a skater boy, the most unfortunate tragedy being how annoying he is the second he opens his mouth.

his eyes graze the onlookers and you watch him do a double take when he sees you not only in the crowd but looking his way, a wide smirk covering his face as he waves at you. you shake your head, pointing to the girl next to you and squinting your eyes.

he squints his own back at you, nodding his head sarcastically before throwing you a wink and walking off with wooyoung to the top of the ramp.

an annoyed huff leaves your mouth, turning your head to see the dreamy look in your friend's eye. "okay mrs. obvious, calm it down," you hiss lowly, suppressing a laugh when she shakes out of your lust-induced gaze.

"who's obvious? obvious about what? their love and affection for wooyoung? nope, not me."

you can't help the laugh that rings out of your mouth now, pushing her lightly before someone welcoming guests and announcing the events into a loudspeaker cause to smirk at your friend.

"they're kidding with this loudspeaker, right?"

"sh! it's a sporting event."

and like a sporting event it was, the crowd cheering during their favorite skaters or "oohing" at the rare occasion when one would wipe out. and even you have to admit this was exciting to watch. how freely they throw themselves into the air, how smoothly they'll land on the moving boards and flip their bodies in ways that truly look like it should end in disaster.

when the voice on the speaker booms "kang yeosang" the cheers pierce your ears and you look around in surprise at the clapping and wooing crowd. they get considerably louder when he appears at the top of the ramp and you snap your head back around to see him craning his neck side to side before plopping his board down and adjusting his two feet.

you watch his fluid movements the second he starts, balanced and sharp as he dips down and then flings himself all different ways and soars into the air.

you find yourself flinching when he takes a particularly steep turn or deep dive, feeling shocked and impressed when he lands it each and every time. you don't even realize how much time has passed until he's done, standing back on the ledge holding his board up and shaking it side to side as his chest heaves in and out.

the audience is clapping, yourself included and you see him point out into the crowd before stepping off just as the name "jung wooyoung" is called out. the figure next to you jumps up, her squeals piercing your ear and successfully doing the job of snapping you back to reality. 

you halt your clapping hands, tugging her down by the arm with a chastising tone.

"you're so embarrassing, stop it," you say through gritted teeth but she only shrugs you off, wiggling in her seat happily as her eyes zone in on the boy. you watch too and if you realize you're not quite as interested in watching him, you'll never admit it.

"congratulations, wooyoung!" you friend squeals when you find him and a group of boys towards the front entrance of the park afterward, "you were amazing!"

a big smile covers his face upon seeing her and you'd be lying if you said it didn't make your heart soar; perhaps he likes her as much as he likes him...

"thank you babe," he says and you try not to scrunch your nose at the term of endearment.

"i was so scared when you-"

"and look who decided to show up, after all," you hear a teasing voice say from behind you. you spin around and roll your eyes at the boy skating up to you holding a first place trophy.

"by force and harassment, don't flatter yourself," you say, eyes roaming the metal in his hand and he smirks.

"told you i was good."

you purse your lips to the side because you can't deny it now, after watching him and genuinely being impressed.

"well pardon me for my hesitance after you flung that deathtrap at me not once but twice."

"only a deathtrap if you don't know what you're doing," he say, rolling the board under his feet, "which is why we gotta schedule your lesson now."

a shocked look crosses your face, eyebrow raised skeptically. "oh, i didn't realize you were so booked and busy."

a cocky smile crosses his face as he cooly responds, "well didn't you hear all those cheers for me? i have a lot of fans."

your face pinches into one of disgust because you had realized majority of the yells were those of females.

"well, then let's not waste a highly anticipated lesson on someone who doesn't want one in the first place."

he hops off the board, sauntering towards you and turning his head to you.

"but i insist," he says, that signature smirk crossing his face, "it's the least i can do for my good luck cha-"

"ay, yeosang! let's go!" wooyoung yelps before eyeing you and a smile covers his face.

"you must be y/n! are you coming with us? i'm wooyoung, if you didn't know." 

you turn your neck to the side to see your friend with a big smile on her face and you don't think her body's stopped wiggling since you guys got here. she nods her head frantically, failing her hands in a 'come on!' motion and you plaster on the fakest smile you can muster.

"sure, thank you for inviting me," you say through gritted teeth, meeting the boy’s gaze before snapping back to your friend mouthing the words 'you owe me.' you watch the two take off, his arm thrown happily around her shoulder as she observes his second place trophy in fascination.

"you wanna see mine?" yeosang quips, holding his out in excitement but you can only roll your eyes. you side-eye a group of girls lingering next to you, pretending to plan for their next event or look at their phones when you know damn well they're trying to sneak a peak at the kang yeosang.

"i think there's others far more interested," you quip before turning around to catch up with your friend; you hear the familiar sound of a board clattering against the ground and rolling after you seconds later.

the four of you end up walking to a nearby diner, 50s inspired with red leather booths, a black and white checkered floor and elvis presley currently singing through the speakers about a devil in disguise. you were given the spot next to yeosang, listening to him and wooyoung banter back and forth about their performance.

"maybe if you didn't almost eat shit, you'd have this!" yeosang teases, patting the trophy next to him while taking a sip from his chocolate shake. 

smug and cocky from his win, it felt really good to see wooyoung put the end of his paper wrapper in his straw and blow it towards yeosang; but it felt even better when some excess of his vanilla shake went with it, promptly splattering all over the boy's face.

and yeosang really wishes he could've gotten mad but your soft giggle of a laugh just left him cursing playfully at wooyoung, wiping his face with a napkin before the waitress places your food down.

he wishes he heard you laugh more often.

you pick at your salad with your fork, letting out a quiet sigh as you smell the salty fries and burgers wafting around you. but you know the wrath of your dance instructor and most importantly, your mother, would not be worth the taste of any food.

yeosang watches you from the side of his eye pick at your meal, finishing just his burger before promptly shoving his plate next to you.

"eat."

you turn your head to look at him with hard eyes and furrowed eyebrows.

"what?"

"eat," he says, pushing his own plate until it hits your arm. but you only shove it away with your elbow, sticking your fork through a piece of lettuce and popping it in your mouth.

"i have my own food, but thanks."

an annoyed huff leaves his mouth, eyeing you seriously and you turn away from his gaze so the unfamiliar feeling of nervousness doesn't creep up on you. and then, as you open your mouth to eat another piece of lettuce, you feel the saltiness of a french fry graze your lip.

you knock your head to the side but he only follows, placing it further into your mouth. you chew the food and resist the urge to groan out in pleasure because it's been so long since you ate food like this.

but you're taught to use food as fuel, the fuel being in protein and greens and fruit and healthy fats; you know for a fact the amount of salt on this potato would not be mom approved.

"yeosang," you growl and he raises an eyebrow at you.

"constanze."

you hear the faint confused voice of your friend sitting across from you, "did you tell him that was your name, y/n?"

"no," you growl, side eyeing the boy who's holding out another french fry with a stern look, "he insists on calling me that and i don't know why."

"what an odd name for him to- wait, mozart! his wife's name was constanze!"

you fully turn to stare at the boy whose mouth is now quirked up into the biggest smirk on his face.

"it appears you're not the real priss of your group, y/n. now that is shocking."

"you are so dumb, why do you even know that," you hiss at him, smacking his arm lightly and ignoring how nice his voice sounds saying your real name, "and i wasn't even listening to mozart!"

his laugh rings through the air and you huff before attempting to turn back to your food. but his pushy, annoying, obnoxious self shoves his plate to you again and you'd scream at him if you weren't in a public setting.

"you really are such a-"

"i can't sit here and watch you pick at your food any longer," he tells you and you're surprised to hear his voice laced with the smallest hint of concern, "just eat some fries."

you meet his gaze and see they’re surprisingly soft, no hint of his usual teasing or judgment, and you sigh before snatching one up and putting it in your mouth.

"happy?"

"very," he says, smiling down at you and you ignore the way it makes your heart feel light and fluttery when your eyes occasionally meet.

but that light and fluttery feeling quickly fades away by monday. because when your mom said she’d pick you up from practice for once, you knew she had to have ulterior motives.

"hi, mom," you chirp the second you get in the car and she smiles softy at you. but there's a forced, stiffness about it.

"i checked your log before," she says before even a greeting and your face immediately drops; she makes you keep a log of your weight and hours put into practice every week.

"two pounds, y/n?" she asks and you just knew you shouldn't have put that in there. "what's that about?"

your swallow nervously, shame running through you as you tuck your head into your chin; perhaps you had ended up finishing all of yeosang's fries.

"i'm not yelling at you, dear, i just...what is that about? you know gaining weight isn't good for-"

"i know, mom," you snap, irritation running through you at the fact she thinks dear is gonna lessen the blow, "but it's only two pounds. i probably just burned it off at this practice."

"i hope so," she hums, staring up at the building and smiling softly in remoteness. "you have to work hard, every second, mind and body. you remember that, right? but especially what you put in your body and what you put-"

"on the floor mom, yeah, i know."

she lets you sit in silence for a few moments, making no attempt to put the car into drive and you look up at her curiously. 

and then there's something in her gaze, in the way she didn't tell you to put your seatbelt on or make any moves to put back on the sunglasses perched on her head that you just know what she's about to suggest. 

so before she can, before she can hurt your feelings and spirit anymore, you say the words she's thinking.

"i'll walk home," you say shortly, open the door and slamming it after you jump out, “work off some calories.”

"that's a good idea, y/n," she says before trying to soften her own guilt and be a good mother, "but are you sure? your feet must be in pai-"

"i'm sure, see you at home," you say, tears pricking behind your eyes and you quickly walk to the crosswalk so if they do happen to fall, she doesn't see. you wait for the walking man, hearing the sound of your car driving off and it's like you don't have any strength in your body.

in an effort to not completely break down in public, you walk around to the side of the building where you sometimes have outdoor practices when it's especially nice out in the spring. you open the squeaky gate and plop down against the wall, bringing your knees up and burying your head in your arms to cry just for a second.

cry because your feet and body are always in pain, cry because you're deprived of flavorful food and have forced yourself to pretend it's because you like it, cry because your mom, the person you do all of this shit for, just called you out and made you feel so incredibly shitty for gaining two pounds on your already slightly underweight body.

"y/n?" you hear and your head snaps up, hand moving to wipe your wet face quickly; but you know he already saw what was happening.

"please not now, yeosang," you beg, voice wobbly and wet and you close your eyes when you hear the squeaky gate open.

"what's wrong?" he asks, kneeling down in front of you and turning his head to the side questioningly. 

you hesitantly meet his gaze and a frown immediately covers your face when you see his eyes roaming over you with true, real concern. and you don't know if it’s that or the dozens of other factors but it causes the tears to leak from your eyes again, face crumbling before you quickly bury them back in your legs.

"please leave me alone," you cry out quietly.

"i can't do that, y/n," he says and you feel his warm hand graze your bare leg after a few moments, his thumb gently rubbing over your skin and you don't even try to fight it. 

because you think you need the slightest bit of comfort and affection right now, even if it’s him. and he does just that the whole time without uttering a word, plopping down on his butt after the squatting position burns his legs.

you look up after you feel like you've drained all your sad and frustrated and pain-ridden sobs out and he pouts after seeing your red, tear-stained eyes and puffy cheeks.

"will you tell me what's wrong if i ask again?" he asks softly, bringing his hand from your knee to your face to wipe at the excess tears under your eyes.

"no," you squeak and he swallows the lump in his throat but nods his head regardless.

"okay."

you bite your lip when you feel it start to tremble again, maybe at his understanding, and his eyes immediately move down to your lip, swallowing again when he notices the tremor.

"was that...can you at least tell me...was that your mom?" he asks, moving to wipe the tears off the other side before retracting his hand.

you sniffle, leaning your head back against the brick and nodded your head silently.

"yes, that was my...lovely mother," you say and you can't help the bitterness in your tone.

he nods his head understandingly, still roaming your puffy eyes and sad face as he finds himself saying, "parents suck."

a small humorless chuckle leaves your mouth as you nod your head against the wall, lips pursed to the side as you bite the inside of your cheek.

you two sit there silently for who knows how long, long enough for the ice cream truck to make its rounds around the park three times and then for most of the chatter coming from it to simmer. your eyes had been grazing each other ever so often, but most of the time missing each other.

because when you would look at him, you saw him staring off outside the gate absentmindley, like he was reliving some kind of memories.

and when he would look at you, you were watching your finger trace the concrete underneath you and his stomach sank at the thought that you were practicing parts of your routine.

so that's what urges him to get up abruptly, causing you to look up to see him holding his hand out to you.

"come with me?" he asks and you look at it warily before meeting his gaze.

"where?"

"just come," he says pleadingly and you find yourself sighing before taking his hand. he pulls you up gently, interlocking your fingers and you supposed you shouldn't have been surprised when he starts dragging you across the street into the park.

"are you kidding, yeosang," you say but the usual snark in your voice is empty; you just don't have the energy.

he walks you over to his board laying on it's side, kicking it up with his foot and moving so you're standing right in the middle of it.

"get on."

"i don't wanna," you whine, "what makes you think i wanna do this after having an emotional breakdown?”

"just try," he says, "and if you hate it, you can smack me over the head with the deathtrap. payback, right?"

a smile tugs at your lips so you drop your head, looking over the scuffed up board and taking a breath before looking up at him again.

"i'm holding you to that."

and with that, you step onto it hesitantly. one foot, then the other. you shudder slightly, a squeal leaving your mouth as your hands shoot out to grab onto him. a chuckle leaves his mouth at your tight grip and hesitant face.

"that was good," he says and you squint your eyes at him challengingly.

"i can't wait to knock you out."

he attempts to cover his laugh with one of his hands but you quickly reach out and grab it, an appalled look on your face.

"well, don't let me fall!"

"i won't," he says, "let's go slowly."

"i don't think that's a-" a little yelp echoes through the park when he slowly starts walking.

"you're fine, you drama queen," he mutters and a scoff leaves your mouth, "just get used to the board under your feet."

and you do as he says, grounding yourself on the board and familiarizing yourself with the slightly wobbly feeling under your feet. you loop around the park once, your screeches and his laughs echoing during the few instances he let go of your hands.

"alright, get off," he says, both hands still in yours when you get down slowly.

"that was a great lesson, glad we did it," you say sarcastically but he only rolls his eyes, moving his hands down to your hips and turning you to face the front of the board.

"not quite done yet," he says and the way his breath fans against your ear has you biting your lip because whoa, has his voice always been so deep and nice? "put one foot on the board, leave the other one on the ground and just travel slowly."

you huff as you put your feet in the positions, his hands on either side of you but not touching you. you begin to slowly move, your foot on the ground slowly stepping forward; it's slow and basic but you're doing it.

"this really is skateboarding for dummies," you say and he lets out a chuckle.

"alright then mrs ollie, let's see you put your traveling foot on the board."

you roll your eyes at him before stepping three times and then bringing both feet up onto the board. but you quickly wobble, his arm wrapping around your waist before you have the chance to fall off.

"see what happens when you get cocky," he mumbles and you elbow his stomach lightly.

"shut up, i should make you do a grande jeté."

"okay but we're skateboarding right now, not learning french."

you nearly fall off the board again from the sheer power of your laugh, your head leaning to side as it lands on his shoulder.

"oh my, gosh, it's a ballet jump!" you squeal and you only realize how close you are to him when you hear his chuckle right by your ear. you pick yourself up and stay on the board, flustered by your closeness but before you can even dwell on it, his hands are off of you.

"let's try again."

you practice and practice and practice until you're able to fully push off and stay steady on the board.

"yeosang! look! i'm doing it!" you squeal happily and he smiles, humoring you by clapping his hands together for the 8th time.

"you'll be doing an ollie in no time," he teases and you squint at him before getting off the board, turning it around, and charging towards him.

he chuckles seeing you flying toward him, moving to the side and grabbing you by the waist when you pass him on the board.

"ah, stop it!" you screech but your giggling ringing through the air says otherwise. he plops you down in front of him, the sun about to set as the town around you turns quiet. it's like you two are the only ones out right now, with squeals and smiles and laughs filling the park.

"so, am i a good teacher or what?" he asks, eyes teasing as they look at you.

"you're okay," you drag out, smiling softly when he squints his eyes at you. "i mean, good for a first place winner i guess."

his eyes move to your lips for a second, his heart warming at the smile broad on your face and small giggles leaving it.

"you should laugh more," he says and your smile dims ever so slightly as you stare at him blankly. "it's really... it's nice."

his voice is so quiet and soft, it's reminding you of how he comforted you just a few hours ago. you bite your lip ever so slightly, shy eyes meeting his before you advert them down to your sneakers.

"i guess i have only yelled at you..." you say quietly but the guilty amusement in your tone causes him to chuckle lightly. he lifts your face with his pointer finger, his soft smile making your heart warm and constrict like it did at the diner.

"the yelling is fine too," he says, "but i definitely prefer your laugh." you scrunch your nose up at him when his finger bops it softly, turning your head to the side as you roll your eyes playfully.

the quietness between you two is back, not an awkward or tense silence. just a calm, peaceful silence thats making something in you feel so... settled and content. like the last few hours were able to wipe all of your negative feelings from after practice away.

"thank you," you find yourself saying quietly, "i...i was so upset before but you really..you really helped me then and even with this, so..." you fumble over your words, your eyes switching from his to the park behind him back to him as you say, "thank you, yeosang."

he's never heard your voice so quiet and unsure and he thinks he might be crazy for feeling the urge to kiss you right now. the air feels thick and charged and buzzing between you both, all lingering gazes and soft smiles. but he still doesn't. doesn't think it's the right time or place and can't properly gauge if that's something you'd even want right now.

but he does lift his hand to your hair, tucking the slightly sweaty strand behind your ear as he smiles down at you softly. "you're welcome, y/n."

and without much protest, you're back in the park friday after practice watching wooyoung help your friend on the skateboard like yeosang did with you just a few nights ago. your heart warms at the memory, his gazes and soft, warm touches and the way you see how he's nothing like the obnoxious punk you first accused him of being.

you sit on the bench with your legs crossed, watching him show a group of young boys (and to your pleasant surprise, three girls) the safest way to attempt to ride down the railing of the three-stair drop in the park. 

you watch as the kids look at him in amazement, clapping their hands and whooping every time he lands it. he watches them attempt it with a guarded gaze, his eyes flicking to you every so often and you either nod your head at him or wave at him with your fingers and a small smile on your face.

your smile drops a few moments later, however, when you watch his skateboard wobble on the rail, promptly sending him flying off as he lands right on his shoulder. you shout his name in surprise, making your way into the circle of kids surrounding him and bending down to look at him.

luckily, he was wearing a helmet for once and there's only the slightest presence of a pained sneer on his face.

"jesus! are you okay?" you ask and soon enough, you see the huge gash start to ooze blood.

"i'm fine," he grunts out, "see what i did there kids? definitely don't do that!"

"does anyone have a tissue or napkin?" you ask and a little girl with long hair tied in a ponytail fishes one out of her pocket. "thank you."

you hold the tissue to his shoulder, cringing when you see how deep it is as you help him to his feet. he snaps off his helmet, twisting his neck to the side and you hear a crack.

"oh my, god please tell me your neck is okay," you breathe out in a panic, "neck injures can be potentially-"

"i'm fine, y/n," he says and you could smack him if he wasn't already bleeding at the amusement in his tone.

"you're bleeding through this pretty damn quickly for someone who's fine," you snap, holding the red tissue, "come with me."

you drag him across the street and up into the dance studio, plopping him down on one of the folding chairs before hurrying into the back office where your instructor keeps the first-aid kit. you quickly get to work, apologizing softly when you dab at his wounds with alcohol before smoothing over an antiseptic cream and large band-aid.

"are you hurt anywhere else?" you ask and he shakes his head, leaning back on the chair and tapping his arm lightly.

"all good now, thanks to nurse y/n."

you roll your eyes at him, throwing the wrapper of the band-aid at him before sauntering back into the office. you come out a few moments later to see him in front of the mirror, his hand running over the bar before he stands in front of the window. he can hear the bustling of the boards and wheels on concrete, smiling when the kids land a trick and cheer in unison.

"see, we hear all your punk nonsense," you say teasingly and he turns around with a smirk on his face.

"punk nonsense that you're a part of now."

"oh please, i can barely turn around on the deathtrap," you say as you walk up to him, catching both of your appearances in the mirror and it's a little surreal that he's here with you right now.

you had convinced yourself you hated him the second you saw him, heard him, not even knowing him but having an irrational dislike flood through you just at the sound of his wheels on the sidewalk. and now you can't tear your gaze away, swallowing nervously because you think you might like him a little bit and you have to get out of here.

he turns and his eyes meet yours through the mirror, smiling when he notices the pink blush covering your cheeks.

"we should go ba-"

"now wait a minute," he interrupts, grabbing your hand the second you try to walk off, "aren't you gonna teach me how to dance."

he pulls you further into him and you swallow the nervous lump in your throat. why are you all the sudden so nervous and warm?

"you can't when you're injured," you say, rubbing over his band-aid and inhaling sharply at his warm, exposed skin.

"i am not injured, y/n," he says teasingly, "come on. show me a little something."

you squint your eyes at him, cursing your heart that's starting to pick up and you let out a huff.

"do that french shit."

and because you're completely under his spell, you shake your head to lessen the laugh rumbling through your chest and proceed to walk over to the other side of the room.

"move back, i don't wanna hit you."

you take a deep breath and position your feet on the ground, extending your arms into fourth position before raising your leg and taking a deep breath. then, like you're basically permanently ingrained to do, you leap into the air. your other leg quickly follows, both of them now in a full, airborne split before landing securely on your feet and into the finishing position.

you take a breath before turning to yeosang who's looking at you with his mouth in a small o, surprise and admiration in his eyes.

"that was...i was...you're amazing."

a humorless laugh leaves your mouth, rolling your eyes at him as you shake your head.

"that's a simple ballet jump," you tell him and he looks at you with a hint of disbelief.

"nothing about that looked simple."

"that's because you're a measly skater boy," you tease, walking up to him and poking his chest lightly.

a small chuckle leaves his mouth, grabbing your hand before you can take it back and intertwining your fingers. "you did tell me early on that ballet takes a lot more skill."

a guilty smile makes its way on your face and he smirks upon seeing it. "it's okay, perhaps you were right."

"no," you say softly as you shake your head, "watching you fling yourself into the air made me nervous and impressed even when i hated you."

his eyebrow raises ever so slightly, his hand tightening in yours as the other one makes its way to your face. "yeah?" he muses, moving over your cheek gently, "and now you what? like me?"

your mouth snaps shut and you feel your cheeks grow red. you hadn't even meant to...confess like that but you're just feeling so...overwhelmed and warm and surrounded by him for some reason.

maybe because he's in your space, where your mind was secretly already plagued by him. 

or maybe because there's something about seeing both of your reflections in the mirror, seeing how his eyes rake over your face and body and how you look standing pressed up to him, how you now look with him bending down and bringing his face closer to yours.

"i...i didn't...i-"

"i hope so," he mumbles lowly, his hand moving to tuck your hair behind your ear so he can whisper, "because i think i like you."

you let out a breathy exhale, the feel of his body pressed up against yours and his hot breath in your ear causing you to shudder against him. he takes your strangled breaths as confirmation back, his chest warming and a smile on his face; but he wants the words from you.

he hums lowly in your ear and it causes you to press yourself just a little bit more into him as you mumble, "i like you too."

he pulls back to see your flushed face and roaming eyes, adams apple bobbing as he tries his best to control his fast approaching arousal. but when your gaze meets his lips, it all goes out the window. the hand grasping yours moves to your face, both now cupping your cheeks softly and as his brings his lips down.

but before they graze over your mouth, he mumbles a deep "can i kiss you?" and it's all the motivation you need to pull him into you.

your lips collide and part on one another, your hand reaching to brush through the back of his hair as he slips his tongue in your mouth. you stumble around the floor for no other reason than your need to kiss and tongue ever part of each other's mouth is overwhelming the both of you, teenage hormones and pent up frustrations and emotions being poured into one another.

you feel yeosang move you until your back hits the bar, his hands running down your body until his hands land on your hips. he squeezes them softly, breaking the kiss to get air before his wet lips meet your neck.

"i wanted to kiss you when i first met you," he mumbles against your skin, "but only because you were such a brat. had so much shit pent up, didn't you?"

you bite your lip to hold back a moan, his voice and words quickly sending sparks through your body. you hadn't expected him to be like this during....

"but i have you quiet now, it seems," he says and you feel his smile against your skin. "i saw you watching us in the mirror."

your eyes widen and cheeks flame even more; you were hoping he wouldn't notice but you were kind of openly gawking.

"i-i'm sorry," you say and you're not exactly sure why you're even apologizing, "i don't know, i just....like seeing you. us."

he presses his hips further into you, finally letting a moan escape you at the feel of his bulge against you. you grind yourself further into him and he hisses, gripping your hips roughly before dragging you back towards the middle on the furthest side of the mirror, strategically away from the window.

"can i try something," he mumbles as he moves to stand behind you, "i want you to watch."

"i..o-okay."

"if you want me to stop, say the word."

and with that, your eyes bulge and wetness pools as you watch him run his hand along the side of your body. his hand grazes over the side of your boob, moving to palm you until your nipple hardens under his touch and he slips into your shirt. he groans quietly in your ear when he feels your skin against his hand and you throw your head back onto his shoulder.

"yeosang," you mumble but then he quickly removes it and you let out a tiny groan.

"eyes in the mirror or i'm not doing anything."

he wishes he could kiss the pout off your face when you look back up, glossy eyes meeting his in the mirror as you cock your head to the side. "more, please."

and more he does, his hand back in your shirt tweaking at your nipple before he quickly starts work on the other one. he continues to hum in your ear, praising you when your moans echo throughout the studio and you push back onto his growing bulge.

but it's when his hand snakes between your thighs and you have to watch as he rubs over you that you really start to lose it, cry out his name and feel your legs start to wobble as you see the way his hand strokes you over and over and over again.

"yeosang, please," you whine and his smile at you through the mirror is nearly sadistic, so far off from the fun, teasing, cool-tempered boy you've come to know.

"please what, baby?" and your stomach swoops because that's the first time you've heard those words leave his deep voice.

"i...i don't know, just..." your eyes roll back and the second he sees they’re not focused on the mirror, he pulls his hand away.

"yeosang!" you whine, your eyes popping open immediately and craning your neck to look back at him. but he bumps his hips into the back of yours, holding you against his body so you don't fall forward as he grabs the waistband of your shorts.

"you know the rules, you priss," he bites and you can't believe how quickly that name changed from irritation in your veins to wet arousal pooling in your underwear.

"i'm sorry," you whine and it's all he needs to dip his hand into your shorts, sinking his hand down to rub the wet patch on your underwear and you moan out at the feeling.

"you're so wet, baby," he muses in your ear, "this is all for me, yeah?"

"yes," you moan out and you're so tempted to close your eyes at how good it feels.

"you've been so good for me lately," he hums, slipping passed your thong and hissing himself when he feels your wet arousal on his fingers, "but i have to make sure you keep being good."

"yes," you moan out again and your knees nearly buckle when you feel him brush his finger across your clit. "oh my, god." your breathy whines fill the room and it's enough for him to quicken his pace, flicking and toying at your clit while one hand holds your waist because he feels your legs shaking in front of him.

"yeosang, oh..oh, my-" a loud moan leaves your mouth and your head dips back for a second before you quickly fling it forward, eyes half open as you watch him his hand move in your shorts and his mouth by your ear.

"you feel good, baby? like seeing me with my hand in this pretty pussy?"

"yes," you moan out, "yes, yes, yes." and you moan it like a mantra. a mantra that only gets louder when he pushes his finger into your tight hole, moving in and out and making you feel full as he rubs over your clit until a tightening in your lower half has your legs vigorously shaking under you.

"yeosang! fuck fuck, fuck! i think i'm gonna-"

and before you can get it out, your eyes shut and moans leave your mouth as you come apart from his fingers, your eyes desperately trying to stay open just in case his rules still apply and he takes away the best, most intense orgasm you've ever felt in your life. 

your legs are shaking and you would've collapsed right on your knees if yeosang hadn't tightened the arm around your waist, holding you flush against him and even in the middle of an orgasm, the feeling of his hard cock against you has you wanting to do more.

only the sound of your harsh breathing can be heard in the room after a few moments so he pulls his hand out and guides you around to plop you down in the chair a few feet away. you stretch your legs out, leaning your head back and holding your hair away from your sweaty neck. 

he smiles at the sight of seeing you fucked out from just his fingers, resisting the urge to make you watch him taste your arousal; but he thinks that may be a little too much for you right now; he also needs to calm down the raging boner in his pants.

your head flings back up a few moments later, vision a bit hazy and your legs tingling but the smile on your face almost immediate.

"hey there, baby," he says and your smile widens because you hope that name is here to stay. "so the ballerina has a mirror kink, after all."

a choked laugh leaves your mouth, embarrassment flooding through you as you cover your hands over your red face.

"stop," you whine, "i....i guess we just confirmed that one," you mumble and you hear his chuckle fill the room as he bends down. he places his hand on your exposed knees, kissing both of them before squeezing softly.

"you good?"

"i'm great," you assure before looking at his face, "but wait...don't you need to...?"

"i'm good," he tells you, his soft smile an indication he's telling the absolute truth, "i think i wanna take you on a date before we do that again."

warmth and excited butterflies run through your stomach and chest, a small, sweet smile covering your face.

"really?" and he can't help but laugh at the sweet, almost disbelief in your voice.

"what the hell, did you miss the part where i said i liked you?"

you purse your lips to the side, shrugging your shoulders teasingly.

"i don't know...a lot did just happen," you say, "like i found out about my mirror kink."

a snort leaves his mouth, looking back and waving at you through the glass with a wink.

"we got tons of time to find out more of your kinks," he promises, "but for now. a date. how's tomorrow?"

"tomorrow's great," you say and he stretches up to place a chaste kiss on your lips before pulling away and admiring your smiley, pink-tinted face. he watches as you look back at the mirror, your eyes lowering until another embarrassed laugh bubbles out of your mouth.

"what?" he asks, humor in his tone.

"i just...i don't know how i'm ever gonna look at this mirror the same."

[phoebehalliwell]

Piper/Kyle, except it's an AU where Kyle's parents were never killed by demons, so he lived a perfectly normal, happy childhood and grew up to follow their footsteps into teaching and Kyle's a normal, maybe even a little boring archaeology professor who secretly dreams of having his very own Indiana Jones moment - up until the day he opens some dusty old chest and unleashes a demon that tries to kill him, and he barely gets away only to run into this petite brunette woman who proceeds to blow the demon the fuck up, and Kyle's never believed in love at first sight before, but he's pretty sure he can make an exception for Piper

wait omg mentally stable kyle au okay wait i gotta wrap my head around this kyle but not absofuckinlutely insane whatta picture omg. okay. i feel like he’s still gotta have this belief in the supernatural i feel like that’s a large part of the charm in literally any kyle dynamic with the sisters is Witch Who Gets It and Man Who’s Only Got Raw Data. there’s an appeal to that. seeing things from different angles all that. so we can say kyle ever good at puzzles has taken his parents notes and everything he knows and various texts and kinda pieced together okay magic does exist. but in this au he’s a professor and not an fbi agent so he can’t just walk around saying Magic Is Real because um he needs this job. also he’s never seen it. but like. the data does not like. like. like it’s real man like are you kidding me. and we’ll say he has one normal friend because he’s normal in this au and he’s like okay here me out tho magic is real and his friend is like ......okay. because like. it could be, i guess? i’m not gonna fight you on this. and kyle also definitely read a lot as a kid he reads a lot now and he’s always kinda like. like you know wondered what it might be like to be a man of action not someone stuck behind a desk all day seeing the world through books. so when he starts to see markers of the gathering storm,,, well. these are the times that make a man. he can either be a pussy about it and keep living his life through paper and ink, or he can follow his intuition. blah blah blah this leads him to get kidnapped by pirates which like. excuse me??? and kyle’s kinda kicking himself because he Wanted to be like a character in an adventure book and well like bada bing bada boom you get what you ask for. which. all due respect on his part. is smart enough to outwit them and escape. he might have dropped his wallet there tho. but when he goes back the same route wandering through the thick fog, all he finds is a solid wall of rock. so i guess he’s fucked in that regard. whoops. but!! magic is real. so that’s a dub. digs a little bit more into the blackjack cutting lore, maybe finds the x marks the spot on where their main hideout was, road trip to. seattle? i guess? port city that isn’t san francisco but is more reasonable to drive to that like. nola or boston. and lo and behold he finds it and find their documentation of the gathering storm accidentally trips a booby trap and jesus fucking christ pirate skeletons with sword which - respectfully - kyle is holding his own for the most part, not getting immediately worried, but there’s no way that would have lasted had the three skeletons not been blown to pieces. and he looks over and sees three brunettes and the one in the center is like who the hell are you? to which kyle really feels like He should be the one asking that question but after stammering out some kind of response about how he’s a professor and he was just looking for some soil samples something generic archaeological because hey. he doesn’t trust these women. he doesn’t know what side they’re on. and he’s not just gonna sacrifice the information he has on the gathering storm. and it’s obvious they don’t believe him, but they don’t kill him either. instead, the one in the center just says be more careful where you leave your stuff and tosses his wallet back to him.

and later at the manor paige is like we just let him go?? and phoebe’s like yeah how to we know he’s not a demon? he wouldn’t be the first to pose as a mortal in the mortal world (because phoebe went to the university to return kyle’s wallet because like it has is ID in it employee id all that under the guise of like. giving a lecture to some of the student’s there as the bay’s leading advice columnist oh hey is there a kyle brody here yeah haha he’s a friend of a friend anyone seen him no he’s on vacation right now? left real abruptly? and then immediately went into his office and touched every surface trying to get a premonition (au in which phoebe didn’t get her powers stripped) and concluded that he’s just Some Guy. like he like has friends and a nine to five and an apartment. so a guy). but piper’s like we don’t know. but we also don’t know what he’s up to or what his connection to the pirates was, which is why i cast a tracking spell on the wallet. and both phoebe and paige approve and in this au again phoebe didn’t get her powers stripped so in styx feet under it’s her and paige on mission and as paige is the one who cast the protection spell and as paige is also very stubborn and also refuses to let innocents die she is the one who gets to become death. she also has a very compelling relationship with death because like. she watched her parents die. and she’s prue’s replacement. the replacement for the dead girl. also fun paige/prue parallel! meanwhile right Should state in any piper/kyle au we just extend pleo’s divorce era by having him remain an elder and keeping that early s6 vibe. so piper’s definitely like a bit more neurotic than normal because you know things haven’t gone great for her and those pirates were warning about the gathering storm and honestly that better not be something that’s gonna hurt her boys because she really could not bear to lose another family member so she’s doing some digging which begins to imply that kyle knows more that he let on so where is he now? the university? great.

and kyle’s you know minding his own business in his office when the same woman practically kicks down his door and is like alright i’m gonna ask again who the hell are you and this time you better answer me honestly. to which: wow. like wow. she’s. she’s a force to be reckoned with and also kinda immediately gains points in kyle’s book for like a) kinda confronting him about knowing more because he’s pretty good at covering his tracks all that so if he’s been Found Out it’s by someone good and b) she also disintegrated evil pirate skeletons so like. 👍. But. he does not trust her for shit. no. absolutely not. he has no reason to. but piper’s not yielding blasts a hole in the wall near his head like quickly now or next time i won’t miss but kyle’s so fuckin stubborn he’s like 🤐 and piper’s. i mean, she can’t kill an innocent. she doesn’t know if that’s who he is, but she can’t run that risk. and kyle’s not saying shit, so she leaves.

then it’s the guardian angel episode where the charmed ones are there on instruction (though they don’t know what they’re looking for. maybe they were just scrying for information) and kyle’s there on a hunch and piper and kyle see each other and it’s um. mac charlie see each other from across the room reaction image. both like. what the fuck are you doing here? and in this one paige is still the one to get her guardian angel stolen and piper’s immediately on high alert because you know big sister/mom mode activated. but they don’t know what they’re looking for and kyle’s like it’s her guardian angel. and piper once again snaps to him firey look in her eyes but kyle’s really just trying to place nice here so he’s like guardian angels. they’ve been going missing being stolen whatever. he’s got the research on it. and piper doesn’t want to trust him but paige is really in grave danger. so, as the sister with the offensive power, she’s going with kyle, and phoebe has to make sure paige doesn’t like. pull a grams. (which for the record i do not accept prewitched as canon but like the elders definitely killed grams <3)

so blah blah blah piper’s now and kyle’s place which is ten times worse than his office because this is where he does his real work and he’s got all the guardian angel shit up and out and is explaining it to piper and it’s making sense but what catches her eye is something on the gathering storm that kyle left out now they’re talking about that they’re starting to realize they’re on the same side. blah blah blah save paige. next episodes what werewolf episode. skip. then!! idk paige still runs magic school right so she’s in the library and she calls piper and she’s like hey remember when you told me to keep an eye out on the gathering storm? and piper’s like yes yeah what is it? and she’s like well we’re inventorying the library and we have books on them and piper’s like that’s good news ! ? and paige is like yeah but we’re missing one. book five. in this something something series. and piper knows Exactly where that book is because she fucking saw it on kyle’s kitchen counter. so now she’s barging into kyle’s place which is getting to be a common occurrence at this point and kyle kinda wants to complain but this is by far the most interesting his life’s been ever and honestly? he’d be kinda bummed if piper stopped kicking down his door. wait actually scratch that you want my book no fuck you changed my mind. to which piper’s like look we’re looking for the same goal here right so give me the book because i have the rest of the series and this could be the missing puzzle piece and kyle’s like okay fine i’ve read the book cover to cover give me the rest of the series and i’ll get you your answers and piper’s like okay let’s get things straight here i’m the witch you’re some two bit archeology professor so when it comes to the handling of sacred magical tomes i’ll be taking the reigns here and kyle’s like fine then you won’t be taking the book. and piper’s like wanna bet and the next think kyle knows he’s hearing the door slam his book’s gone and he’s hearing tires peel out onto the street and he has no idea how she did it. 

back at the manor piper’s got her reading glasses on an volume one open and god this fucking sucks. so she makes phoebe take a stab at it and she hates reading it too. paige also starts it and is like respectfully no. piper’s the only one who did the reading in high school. this is her turf. but my god she cannot make it through all eight of these fucking books. So. she calls kyle. he has to come to the manor because there’s no way she’s giving him the books and there’s no way she’s letting him in magic school so. hi. welcome to the house. but!! by a contrived plot device!!!! a gnome has been shot in magic school this book was the only thing at the scene and paige wants to investigate further but she can’t just leave it out there so she brings it back to the manor she’s gonna cast some spell to find out if there are already spells on the book how to reverse it she just needs to find the spell first and like. there’s no way in hell paige ever wears an outfit with big enough pockets to keep the book on her. so she leaves it on the table. to which kyle asks how this is relevant to the collection. to which piper says don’t open that!! whoops. see, this is why i said we don’t let two bit archeology professors near magical books! piper/kyle charmed noir..............

[verstappenist]

Pillow Talk | Four/Billy

A/N: Hi there I’m providing you with yet another less than average fic! This time for Four, well Billy! Again feedback as well as constructive criticism is greatly appreciated!

Word count: 1,962

Warnings: a tiny little bit steamy? but not really? bit sad too

Part 2!

Billy normally isn’t one for one night stands. He just doesn’t do them, for various reasons. The main reason being his job, having to keep his identity a secret, trying his best to not leave a trace of his existence makes it hard. One always told him, he should live a little, to “get some every once in a while”.

But he only did it once.

It was after a successful mission in the city that never sleeps, the whole group decided to go out and celebrate with a few drinks.

A few rounds in the only ones still at the table were Four and Seven. Two and Three couldn’t keep their hands to off each other and excused themselves before either going to the bathroom or leaving the bar completely. One and Five, as far as he knew only went to the bar to get another round, but were gone for at least ten minutes now.

Looking around the dimly lit local, trying to spot his friends his eyes stopped on a girl standing at the counter, looking around as well, probably searching for her friends, or her boyfriend, who knows.

But when your eyes met his bright green ones, your search got forgotten pretty quickly. You noticed his wouldn’t leave you either, so you raised your drink in a ‘cheers’ manner with a wink.

Billy took it as a sign and quickly stood up, “I’m going to get us the drinks, looks like One and Five are not coming back any time soon!” He told Seven - actually Blaine, but well old habits die hard - before leaving towards the bar.

Luckily for both of you he got a spot right next to you, politely asking if the stool next to yours was free. And even though it was not - you were here with a guy from your boring nine-to-five job who you, after rejecting him about four times, decided to give a chance and let him take you on a date -  you gladly offered him to take a seat.

“So… do you come here often?”, Billy asked, a cheeky smile gracing his lips. He wasn’t expecting an answer and even if he was hoping for one, it for sure wasn’t you bursting into laughter. And it genuinely was the best thing he’s heard in a long time.

“Did you seriously try to chat me up with that line?”, now that you started laughing you couldn’t stop. Maybe it was because of the ridiculous flirting attempt, or the alcohol was slowly showing his effect.

Embarrassment taking over Billy turned beet red, trying to form a sentence that at least made some sense when you interrupted him. “You’re cute, blondie. And to answer your question, I do come here quite often.”

After your response the grin returned to his plump pink lips, “What can I get a pretty lady like you?”

You started giggling again, “You seriously need to step up your flirting game! But I’d like another Cosmo please.” He called over the bar keeper to order your drinks when you put your hand on his that was set on the bar, “I’m (y/n) by the way.”

“Four, pleasure to meet you”, he smiled, sliding a twenty over to the barkeeper to pay for the drinks he just ordered.

“Four? That’s quite the interesting name… but nice to meet you too”, a slight blush covering your cheeks, “what brings you here?”

“Just, uh, drinks after work I guess? I’m here with some of my colleagues, you?”

“Well, I was here on a date-” “A date? Oh fuck I’m sorry! I should- I’m- let’s just forget I was here okay?” “-Christ Four, it’s alright! He left me for some highschool friend of his to catch up. I’m actually glad you’re here”, he wasn’t a hundred percent sure you were telling the truth but when he saw the small, only slightly sad, smile on your lips, he had no other choice but believe you. It’s not like you’ve been dying to go on this date with Greg, but getting left at the bar isn’t a nice feeling.

“Are you su-”, Billy began before you interrupted him. “Positive, please stay. Keep me company, but only if you want to.”

“Of course I want to, my co-workers left too, well most of them did, except for Seven, but he’ll be fine”, the blonde reassured you with a soft smile.

The two of you continued talking about unnecessary stuff for another hour, the drinks flowing until you were both far more than tipsy.

“How- how about I take you home? Alright? It seems like you had enough now”, Billy stated, helping you on your feet, “where do you live, darling?” God he could call you darling in that accent all fucking day and you wouldn’t get tired of it.

“Just two blocks down”, you smiled lazily at the handsome guy you’ve spent a good part of the evening talking to. ”Okay, love, guide me.”

You were in front of your flat in no time, and sad that he was probably going to leave now and you’re never going to see him again. Alone the thought of that sobered you up a little, “Do you wanna come in for a coffee? Or just some water? You know to sober up a bit? Prevent the hangover?”, suddenly insecure you fumbled with your keys before unlocking the door to your small flat.

“Yeah I’d love to!”, his reply far too quick to not be awkward, but the big smile on your face made the internal embarrassment totally worth it. “Great! Come in then!”

With an equally as big and dorky smile he entered after you, the door falling shut behind him. “Hi, baby I’m back! Yes, I missed you too”, you cooed at something in the living room. Billy’s first thought immediately went to ‘Oh my she’s got a child!’ But he got proven wrong when you returned to the hall with a black cat curled up in your arms. “Four, this is Roger, my baby”, an adorable giggle fell from your lips as the furry creature licked your fingers.

Jumping into Billy’s arms Roger cuddled against his muscular chest, his long fingers quickly finding their way into his fur. God those fingers and what they could do to you, by this time your imagination was already running wild. All night had you fantasised about it, and what was under all this unnecessary clothing.

Billy continued to pet the cat for another five minutes before Roger decided she had enough and left for the living room, leaving the the two of you alone in the hall again. Yeah, no this isn’t going anywhere he thought. “I-I.. (y/n)? Did you only invite me in for coffee?”, hand nervously rubbing his neck, she wasn’t the only one fantasising all night. His mind went elsewhere everytime the straw of whatever drink she was having passed her lips, or when she was looking up at him with those pretty doe eyes.

His question clearly caught you off guard, suddenly a blushing mess you didn’t verbally reply, only shook your head. “Use your words, Darling. Tell me, why did you want me to come up with you?”, his calloused hand cupped your jaw, forcing you to look him straight into his bright green eyes, eyes to get lost in.

“I- No”, you admitted, the blush turning an even deeper shade of red, “I want you, probably just as much as you want me.”

And boy was she right,

If anyone entered your flat right now, they would think someone broke in and tried to rob you. In your rush you had accidentally knocked over the lamp in the living room and of course clothes all over the place. Billy’s shirt even landed on poor little Roger.

In the room next door Four just rolled off of you, still in that post-sex-bliss after not having any action in months he curled his arm around your waist, pulling you close. “Christ that was amazing”, Billy groaned placing a soft kiss on your temple.

“I’m glad I was able to please”, you giggled kissing along his sternum. “So… Four, don’t tell me that’s your real name.”

“No, it’s not”, he chuckled caressing your back, “but I’m not allowed to tell anybody, don’t want to upset my boss.”

“Oh and why’s that?”

“Well, if I tell you he might kill you, because we’re supposed to keep it on the low, and not interact with people, even if it’s pretty girls like you”, his hands finding their way into your hair, somehow he can’t keep his hands off you.

“You’re scaring me, just a tiny little bit… But what if I promise not to tell anybody? Will you tell me who I owe the best and most intense orgasm to?” Bringing back the puppy look he couldn’t help but give in.

“It’s Billy.”

“Billy? That’s adorable”, you giggled bringing your lips to meet his in a short but sweet kiss.

“Baby, I think we both know that I am far from adorable… I think I made that very clear not even an hour ago.”

“Touché.”

There was a quiet moment between the two of you, but far from uncomfortable. You were just enjoying each others company and the closeness, as well as the heat radiating from your nude bodies. But one question still needed to be asked.

“Will I ever see you again?”, your voice small and insecure, almost inaudible.

He question hung in the air, tension replacing the soft light mood. “You- I, I totally understand if this is the last we see of each other. I imagine your job, or whatever you’re doing, doesn’t allow you to be with someone given how hesitant you were at first… In that case I want to thank you for tonight, and I doubt I will find someone like you ever again. Boy you are driving me wild and I only know you for a few hours!”, you were rambling now, putting some distance between you by sitting up.

Billy didn’t like that, he quickly followed pulling you in his lap again. “Baby, you had me wrapped around your finger the second I saw you. I really, REALLY enjoyed our time together, and god what would I do to stay with you, but I’m dead, love. Everyone I knew before I started with this madness thinks I’ve died, I technically don’t exist anymore! I really want to see you again, but I won’t be staying here long enough. I can promise you one thing though, whenever I’m back here, every single time, the first thing I’ll do when I’m done is come and visit you, okay?”

Tears were blurring your vision, not wanting to let go, you kissed him with as much emotion as you could nodding. “Don’t break that promise, please. You’re so much more than just a one time thing. You made me crazy for you I just can’t let this be our last time.”

“I’m not letting that happen, I swear as long as I’m alive I will return to you, if you wait for me.”

“I promise, I’ll wait for you”, voice airy, sealing the vow with another kiss. “Let’s go to sleep , love. We’ll figure something out tomorrow”, Billy whispered, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear. Answering with a nod you settled back in the mattress, snuggling up to him just like Roger did earlier.

Sleep took over the both of you quicker than you’d liked.

Billy held you close the whole night, keeping you safe and warm. Yet you woke up with the left side of the bed cold, his body replaced with a pillow and Roger softly purring next to you.

Tag list: @anotheronebitestheskye​

(Just send me an ask or a message if you want to be tagged in my future work!)

[vinylhazza]

okay but being in a relationship like full term with ethan but one night you’re superrrr drunk and you booty call him only for him to come over and nurse you back to soberness

you don’t normally get drunk, in fact you can count on one hand the amount of times you've gotten shit-faced so bad you’re stumbling over your words like a nervous virgin. what was interesting is that you hadn't even planned on getting drunk tonight, not even a little bit. 

you went out with your friends just for a little wine and dine at your favorite restaurant in town and maybe do some face masks after and gossip about sex or whatever you decided to talk about... and then somewhere along the way your best friend convinced you that her fuck buddy’s parties are the best and she just had to go and wouldn't take no for an answer. so there you were, sipping on a beer that you were sure tasted like shit but your brain was so clouded that you actually couldn't believe it wasn't the most splendid drink to land on your tastebuds. 

you knew that if ethan, your beloved boyfriend and love of your fucking life, could see you right now, he would be laughing at the way you have been trying to talk about kurt cobains hair for the last fifteen minutes or smirking when the weekend started bumping through the speakers and your hips started to swivel in that way you know he loves. you were shutting your eyes and imagining the way that his hands would grip your hips and pull you back against him for some friction. just the thought had you really giving a show, really showing your boyfriend that isn't even there your moves. your brain flooded with thoughts of the dirty shit you do behind closed doors, the trope of a gentle little ethan turned into a sex crazed animal when it came to you causing a pool to form in your panties.

you distinctly remember through your drunken, horny haze that your best friend had found you in the middle of a crowd that was filled with equally drunk men that eyed you like a simple hole to stick their dicks into. she had dragged you away from their hungry eyes just when you were ready to peel your clothes off for an imaginary ethan and give him a nice strip show. yes, she was drunk. but was she drunk enough to let all of those men touch the body that wasn't theirs to touch when you were horny and vulnerable and just needed ethan? no. 

she had taken you by the hand and stumbled with you through the crowd and over to a couch so that erin (her fuck buddy) could get off of his ass and take you home. she would be staying the night but she wasn't about to let you ride in an uber by yourself when the world outside was so scary and unpredictable. 

you couldn't get your mind off of ethan...ethan...mmm fuck he was so sexy. how exactly had you managed to score such a gem in all of the LA bullshit? jesus christ a gentlemen that can turn into a hateful prideful fuck machine that drills you into the sheets just the way you like. just thinking of calling him daddy had you moaning as you exited erins car in front of your large apartment complex. you were shocked you that somehow manage to stumble into the elevator. this would definitely be something you would regret in the morning. but right now you just needed ethan to come over and show you exactly what a bad girl you've been and teach you a lesson. thank god your apartment was two doors from the elevator or you might have just collapsed in the hallway. 

you decided to call him, yanking your phone from your purse you managed to snag from your best friend on the way out of the party, peeling your tight dress off at the same time just as you slam your apartment door closed and trip down the dark hallway, heels falling off your feet. you inevitably fall into a moaning mess on your bed - trying to dial his number only to order Siri to call him for you. 

“hey baby how was girls-” his velvety voice hums through the speaker, sounded full of sleep considering it was 12am and he had decided to call it in early for once. 

“hi daddy...can you um can you come over? want you really bad,” your slur, rubbing over your bare tummy and drenched panties right over your aching pussy, not even realizing how trashed you sounded right now. you just wanted him and wanted him now. 

“are you drunk baby? where are you?” he chuckles, highly amused that you were talking this dirty when the mere mention of anything sexual still brings a blush to your face despite the nasty shit you do in the bedroom. 

“maybe alittle babybut not too much I promise..just come and fix me? need my e,” you giggle a little through the line, ending with a moan when your fingers decide to slip that dainty fabric aside and slide through your wet folds, thumbing over your clit and imaging it as ethans large hand, really getting you worked up and clenching around nothing. 

“are you booty calling me?” he mocks a hurt gasp while slipping on his shoes and grabbing his keys, rubbing the sleep from his eyes just to make sure he doesn't crash the damn car on the way to tuck you in. 

“I can’t booty call you?” you sound hurt, but it’s a fake drunk hurt that you won’t even remember in the morning - your bottom lip pouted out, hand steady rubbing circles on your clit, alcohol coursing through you. 

“you can always booty call me kitten, give me ten-ish minutes and i’ll be there to help you okay?” you can just feel that he’s smiling on the other end of the line, the really soft one that melts your heart into a puddle. it’s reserved for times when you shock him. you calling at 12am to come over and fuck is definitely a shock because you are not that girl and never have been. but it still makes his heart swell that you called him. 

“mkay daddy,” is all he hears you say before he clicks the end button. 

you had thought that when he said he was coming it was to take you up on your offer and fuck you into the mattress until your legs can’t move - not to kiss your forehead and over your eyelids while you laid there on the bed in a drunken haze, making grabby hands at his dick through his pants. 

he had walked through the door (which was unlocked but he would worry about that later) and heard you singing a song down the hallway, walking in and seeing you still rubbing yourself, but singing at the same time. it was hilarious and he wanted to laugh, but had a job to do first: be the honorable boyfriend that he was and take care of the girl he loved because she’s hammered and can’t even remember the words to Bohemian Rhapsody - bad sign. 

“what did you do angel? get a little drunk?” he smiles down at you lovingly and with a little bit of humor gleaming in his eye, smoothing the hair away from your eyes and leaving a kiss upon each cheekbone. 

“didn't mean to e m’sorry,” you hum with your eyes still closed, leaning into his hand that cupped the side of your face. 

“you don't have to apologize baby, i’m just surprised is all...did anyone touch you? who drove you home?” he knew he should ask these questions in the morning when you can think straight and aren't struggling to open your eyes, but he just needed to know that he wasn't going to kill some creep that might have taken advantage of you. 

“nu uh nobody t-touched me...erin took me in his car or whatever the hell that thing is called...just wanted you that's all,” you whisper, looking up at him with this lost look in your eyes, tracing around his lips and the rest of his face, noting how beautiful he really is. 

“that’s good kitten, let’s get you cleaned up yeah?” 

“you don't wanna fuck me?” your voice is small and shy, disappointed. 

he turns back to you on the bed, covering up your bare breasts in an attempt to hide you from his eyes. he gives you a look of sympathy and a nod. 

“of course I do but aren't you a little sleepy?” he speaks softly, grabbing the advil from your bedside table and the half filled water bottle. he grins at the little nod of your head, so filled with love and adoration for you in this moment that he can’t hardly stand it. it’s random and bittersweet. you haven't done anything but booty call him, but in this moment it means something so much different. 

“maybe a little bit...” you pout, struggling to sit up and take the water and pills that he has outstretched. he guides you with a gentle hand on your back, tilting the water into your mouth, making sure you swallow each pill before picking you up from the bed with strong arms and a warm kiss on your lips that has you sinking into his chest, snuggled up and safe. your arms wrap around his neck just as he starts walking you to your shower, setting you down on the toilet while he starts the shower. 

on this night in particular, you blush like crazy when his hands start to peel your panties from your body, slowly down your legs and to the floor. his eyes resting on your pussy makes you want to hide like he’s never been nose deep snacking on his favorite meal before. it just felt different. and it was different because you never looked so fragile before. 

you’re kissing at his bottom lip delicately, taking in the feeling of him right here right now in this moment, and loving every second of it, “get in with me?” 

he knows you’ve already started to sober up just from the giggling that has been absent since he found you on the bed. but he nods anyway, removing his own clothes and guiding the two of you into the shower to wash the smell of alcohol from your body, caring touch smooth across your skin - shooting tingles through every nerve.

the shower was simple, short, but needed. it cleared your head more than he thought it would, and when you turned to look at him with a dreamy smile he knew it was you that did it and not the wine or the beer. it was the same smile that you gave him when he wrapped you in your towel and told you to wait only for a minute while he goes to get his hoodie that hangs in your closet that you always sleep in. he takes the time to slip into his own clothes - some sweats and a plain black t-shirt. he steps back into the room with a goofy little dance just to hear you laugh, dropping the towel and replacing it with the hoodie. 

you knew you were going to have at least a little bit of a headache in the morning but it wouldn't be nearly as bad with all the care ethan is giving you right now. 

he carried you right back to the bedroom where you refused to let go of the grip you had on his t-shirt, heart thumping from the smell of his cologne and the rubbing he’s doing on the small of your back. 

“m’sorry e...” you whimper, kind of embarrassed that you acted so out of character. 

“baby there is nothing to be sorry for, i’m just glad you called me. let’s get some sleep hm? i’ll make you some breakfast in the morning how’s that sound? some eggs? bacon? toast? i’ll even put cinnamon on it like you love.” 

“oh jesus stop before I raid the kitchen and eat everything,” you groan, reaching out to pull him into the covers with you, hugging him close while your eyes start to droop shut. you’re exhausted and looking over to see it’s now 3am and you’ve spent so long being a mess is so embarrassing that you wanna forget the whole thing. 

“you never cease to amaze me you know that?” is all he can say, knowing you’ll talk and tell him the whole story in the morning, but for now settling on kissing your forehead and holding you in his arms to be thankful nothing happened and you’re safe there with him. 

“i’m a mess,” you giggle into the material of his shirt, slipping farther into sleep, warm and content with the one person you really wanted on a night like this. 

he just continues rubbing the dimple at the bottom of your spine, hugging you to him with the other arm. he never knew what to expect from you, but one thing is for sure is that you always keep him on his toes and he can't get enough of it. 

“but you’re my mess. and for the record, you can booty call me any day and the answer will always be yes.” 

[write-havoc]

The Glasswing Butterfly Part 19

Summary: Chuck has never thought of herself as anything special. Just an average beta living her life next door to a womanizing alpha named Negan. But her life, and Negan’s too, are turned upside down when Chuck suddenly presents as omega.

This is a non-zombie AU featuring A/B/O dynamics.

Fandom: The Walking Dead AU

Pairing: Negan/Original Female Character

Status: Ongoing

Contains: swearing, smut

Intended for readers 18+ of age only

Masterlist in my bio

Almost a week later, Chuck goes into heat, which is somewhat of a relief to the couple. Not only does it mean that they won’t have to worry about being surprised by it coming during the fast approaching wedding or honeymoon, but it also means that Chuck’s cycle is finally getting regular. Now, they’ll be able to anticipate with certainty when they will have to take time off to deal with their heat/rut, which is far more convenient than scrambling to get ready at the last minute.

Partway through her heat, they get into the new box of omega condoms that Negan had picked up from the pharmacy beforehand. Even though their raging hormones make their rational brains take a backseat to their instincts, using the condoms correctly is more like muscle memory to them at this point. They always make sure to have one in place before they let their bodies do what they want to do, with no incidents to date. 

If their minds hadn’t been foggy from their heat/rut, however, they would have noticed something was wrong. That realization doesn’t materialize until they start to come out of their cycle, when their upstairs brains start to wake back up.

Negan’s knot goes down enough to, once again, pull out and he lays down beside Chuck with a sigh. Their breaths are labored as the dwindling hormones in their systems make way for fatigue to set in.

“Shit, baby,” Negan breathes out then whistles lowly. “Fuck.”

Chuck giggles airily. “Yup,” she agrees with a lazy smile on her face. 

“You okay?”

She looks over to him, but doesn’t answer. Instead, she lets out a chuckle.

“What?” he asks with his brows furrowed. 

“Whenever you start to come back down from your rut, the first thing you do is ask if I’m alright.”

He scoffs a bit, but pulls her into his side. “I guess I’m just worried that my alpha doesn’t think about that shit. It always feels like he’s got a fuckin’ one track mind.”

She laughs. “He does. But he wouldn’t hurt me. I trust you no matter what. Even if your alpha is in control.”

They stay cuddled up together for a few minutes, taking a much needed breather and basking in the touch of one another. The serenity of the moment is only broken by Chuck’s empty stomach making itself known with a loud growl. Even though she can feel her heat waning, she knows she probably doesn’t have too much time before a final round of cramps hits her. 

Negan knows all this, too, being used to the routine by now. “Let me clean you up. Then I’ll make you some actual fuckin’ food. Instead of those protein bars we’ve been shoving in our faces between fuck sessions. I think we have the time.”

Chuck turns over into her back to go through the practiced motion like she has a million times before, with Negan taking up his role. He kneels between her spread legs and ties off the omega condom to make sure all of the mess inside is properly contained. It’s not until he fully pulls it out that he realizes that something’s wrong. 

“Shit,” he gasps once he realizes that the familiar substance now dripping through his fingers means only one thing. The condom had failed at some point. 

“What?” Chuck asks as she sits up to lean on her elbows. 

Negan is shocked, wide eyed for a moment before he answers. “The goddamned thing ripped.”

“ What ?!” She shoots forward to see what he’s talking about. “What do you mean ‘ ripped ’?”

He holds it out to her so she can see for herself. Sure enough, the one end has a very pronounced hole in it. 

“Oh my god,” she spits out. “Wh- Did- It’s-“ she stutters as her brain short circuits. “Did you put it in wrong?” she finally settles on.

“I don’t fuckin’ think so. I mean, I haven’t put one in wrong before so I don’t know why I fuckin’ would now. And it’s not like it slipped out. There’s a fuckin’ hole .”

“Oh my god, Negan.” She looks at him as she tries to center her thoughts. “Do you think it... you know...”

Despite her vagueness, he figures out what she’s trying to say. “Yeah. My shit got up in there.”

She lets that sink in only a moment before she calls out, “Oh my god. How did this happen? We got a defective one?!”

He thinks on that a second. Sure, it’s possible, but not too likely. Quality control, and all that. Then the memory of everything that happened in the pharmacy several days prior pushes itself to the forefront and Negan gets a very bad feeling about all this. 

“Fuck!” He angrily jumps up to dispose of the condom in the little waste basket near the bed like he has done numerous times over the last few days. As he does, his growing suspicions are all but confirmed as he spies the mess in the bottom of the trash bag. 

“What?” She sits up further, eyes trained on Negan as he stares intently down at the garbage. 

From what he sees in the bag, it’s clear that several of the other condoms they used had also ripped, though he hadn’t had the wherewithal to notice before now. “That motherfucker!” he yells, his mind made up on what surely had happened. “I’m gonna fuckin’ kill him!”

Chuck recognizes the rage crossing his face, made all the worse by his rut, but she’s not sure where it’s coming from. “What?” she calls out, trying to get his attention. “What���s going on?”

“That fuckin’ pharmacist-“ he drags his hand down his face as he lets out a heavy breath. “The fuckin’ douche bag pharmacist was the one that filled our last goddamn prescription. I didn’t fuckin’ think much about it, but I guaran-fuckin’- tee that he fucked with those.” He throws his finger down to the trash can to indicate what he means. 

Chuck is gobsmacked. Would a pharmacist really do that? “Are you sure?”

“All of them are fuckin’ broke, Chuck,” he bites back. 

“ All of them?!” She jumps out of bed to see for herself. One look confirms Negan is right. Maybe not all of them failed, but a good number did. Certainly all of the new ones. And definitely more than could be considered a random defect. “Oh my god. We’ve been-“ The realization hits her even harder. This isn’t just one accident that maybe, possibly wouldn’t amount to anything. They’ve essentially been having unprotected sex for the duration of her heat. Or at least most of it. “Oh my god.”

“I’m gonna fuckin’ kill him.” Negan starts to root around the room for any clothes that he can throw on. But he doesn’t make it too far before Chuck clutches her abdomen as a cramp hits her. 

“Negan,” she hisses at the pain. It’s not as intense as it was earlier in her heat, but it’s still uncomfortable. “You can’t leave me yet.”

“Shit,” he mutters as his anger melts away and his duty to his mate takes priority. “Fuckin’ Christ.”

Without another word, the couple crawls back onto the bed to finish out their cycle, though this time, they don’t bother with the most likely tampered-with prophylactics. They figure what’s the use now anyway.

It’s not until the next day before they’re completely back to their normal selves. Negan still wants to confront the pharmacist, with guns blazing, but Chuck convinces him that would be a bad idea.

“They’d take you to jail,” she explains. “And I really don’t want that.”

“Goddamnit,” he hisses. “I just wanna cave that stupid fucker’s face in.”

“Yeah. I know. I kinda do, too.”

“Then what the fuck do we do?” he responds with his arms outstretched, as if he were asking the universe. “Because I sure as fuck don’t want that prick getting away with this shit.”

Chuck thinks it over for a moment. She can appreciate where Negan is coming from; she feels the same way. But retribution rarely comes cleanly.

“I don’t know.” She picks up her phone and clicks on a familiar contact. “I’m gonna call Michonne. She what she says. Maybe we can get him arrested.”

“Kicking the shit outta him seems like a better idea,” he mutters under his breath.

Thankfully, Michonne picks up and, after Chuck briefly explains the situation, says she can stop by a little later on to discuss things with them. Once midday hits, the familiar sight of Rick’s police car pulling into the driveway leads to a sigh of relief from Chuck. The day had been a tense one and she hopes speaking with Rick and Michonne will help at least a little bit.

Before the guests can even knock, Negan jumps up and swings the door open. He’s been on edge all day, dealing with this in a completely different way than Chuck. While he’s been pacing and muttering angrily to himself about getting back at the pharmacist, she’s been curled up on the couch, biting her nails and trying (but failing) to keep her attention on whatever tv show she has it tuned to. Despite those techniques, it doesn’t stop her mind from repeatedly going over everything, spiking her anxiety.

Neither of them have really talked to each other too much about what happened, either. Negan is too preoccupied with feelings of revenge and retribution to allow himself to drift off into thinking about what this all means for them as a couple. And Chuck is just trying to avoid that subject all together, knowing that she’s close to a panic attack as it is. 

In lieu of a greeting to their neighbors, Negan calls out, “Tell me I can legally beat that motherfucker to a pulp.” 

Michonne, followed by Rick, shakes her head as she enters the living room. “You can’t do that, Negan. Just tell me everything in detail and we can go from there.”

As they all take their seats, Negan starts to explain in his usual colorful way. “The one pharmacist in town is an old timey bigot. He fuckin’ refused to give us our rubbers, saying it was against his goddamn beliefs.” He lets out a huff. “The younger pharmacist would always fill the prescription, so I just avoided the old fuckin’ prick. Anyway, the last time I was there, the douchebag old ass motherfucker had actually filled the prescription and I didn’t really think much about it. But judging from the trash bag of broken condoms upstairs, I’d say the fuckin’ evidence is pretty clear that he fuckin’ poked holes in them or some shit.”

Chuck can’t help but be mortified with all this. Even though she trusts Rick and Michonne, the subject matter still has her face turning beet red.

“Wait. Broken ?” Michonne asks. “So you used them?”

“I was in rut. I didn’t have the mind to fuckin’ inspect them. We didn’t realize shit went south until after...” Negan explains. “I can show you the trash, if you really wanna see my cum leaked out of all of them.”

Michonne raises her hands to stop him, wanting very much not to see that. “No. That’s not necessary.”

“There’s still some unused ones, too,” Chuck adds. “They do have holes in them. We checked.”

Michonne looks to Rick before turning back to Negan. “Honestly... and I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but I don’t think we can do much about this.”

“Are you fuckin’ kidding me?!” Negan is quick to call out. “We have the fuckin’ evidence, plain as day! So it’s perfectly legal for him to tamper with that shit?!”

“No. It’s not legal. At all. But...” Michonne takes a slow breath. “I just mean that it probably isn’t worth it to take it to court.”

Chuck jumps in before Negan can fly off the handle, knowing that he probably would. “Why not?”

“I know this is tough to hear, but I don’t think the outcome would be in your favor. Rick can arrest the guy, but actually winning in court is another thing. All the other side would have to say was that you were trying to get this pharmacist fired because of his religious view; that you tampered with the condoms yourself. And unless we got a judge sympathetic to alphas and omegas- which are few and far between- they’ll dismiss it. And you’d be on the hook for court fees.”

“You worked your magic getting me off of a goddamn murder charge,” Negan calls out. “I’d think that’d be harder than this shit.”

“That was different,” Michonne says softly. “It was an alpha protecting his omega against another alpha. There’s legal precedent for that. This... there’s actually legal precedent against you. The pharmacist has a right to refuse to fill a prescription. And I’m assuming you made your anger known publicly about that fact at least once. The defense would need just one witness to testify to that and your credibility would go out the window.”

“That’s bullshit !” Negan jumps up and starts to pace the room as his anger rises. “We did nothing wrong! I’m not gonna let that old ass prick fuck with us!”

Rick stands slowly and holds his hands up to Negan, fully aware that even though the alpha isn’t in rut anymore, he can still be dangerous this soon after it. “You need to calm down-“

“Calm down?!” Negan bites back. “You realize how much this guy fucked with our lives, right?” He flings his arm out in Chuck’s direction. “Odds are she’s pregnant. And we aren’t ready for that shit!”

For the first time, one of them had said those specific words out loud, the subject they’ve been glossing over. It makes a silence descend over the room as they take in the weight of it all. Eyes flick around awkwardly, but never focus for too long on either of the occupants of the house for fear of what their reaction might be. 

After a moment, Michonne stands as well, hoping to de-escalate things. “What the pharmacist did was a violation. And highly unethical. In a perfect world, he would be held criminally accountable for everything he’s done. But we’re not in a perfect world. Prejudice exists. Bigotry exists. Unfortunately, cases like this aren’t that rare. And they usually don’t work out for people like you.” She tentatively lays her hand on Negan’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.” She looks over to Chuck. “If you really want to pursue it, I will try my best-“

“Don’t bother,” Chuck cuts her off dejectedly. “You’re right. And I don’t want to go through anything public. Not again.”

Negan shoots his mate a look. “What? He needs to fuckin’ pay! We should fight him, tooth and fuckin’ nail!”

“I don’t want to, Negan,” she responds pleadingly. “It’ll go public and everything would start up again if we do this. We still get reporters calling us every once in a while asking about the attack and the true mates stuff. I don’t want people following us like before. They’re just starting to forget about us.”

Negan looks at her for a moment before letting out a sigh. “Fine,” he concedes for Chuck. He knows if he’s selfish in this, she’ll be the one getting hurt in the end. “We can drop it.”

“Can we not tell anyone about this?” she pleads with him. Even though they have nothing to be ashamed about in this, she’s still embarrassed by it. “Especially not my mom. She’ll freak out.”

He nods and lets out a soft “Okay.”

“I am really sorry,” Michonne reiterates. “It’s a tough situation.”

Negan gives both her and Rick a look. “Yeah. Ain’t your fault things are shitty for us.” He lets out a heavy breath. “Thanks for coming over anyway. Even if it was a waste of fuckin’ time.”

Rick nods to his friend then starts to walk to the door to make his exit. “Call if you need anything.”

Negan follows the couple to the door to see them out. After closing the door behind them, he turns to lean his back on it. “Fuck,” he breathes out, trying to make sense of things. He takes a moment to drag his hands own his face before moving back to sit beside Chuck on the couch. “You alright?”

She nods weakly, but doesn’t say a word. Internally, though, she’s freaking out about everything.

Negan sees through her facade easily. “You sure?” he prods.

“We really aren’t ready for this, are we?” she repeats his words, though coming from her mouth, they’re quiet and weak.

He hadn’t even realized that that’s what he had said, but now that she’s said it, too, there’s no denying it. “I... I don’t know,” he answers honestly. It’s now that he realizes that he really hasn’t been paying attention to her in all this, having been wrapped up in his own emotions. He pulls her into his side and gives her a squeeze, hoping that she knows that he’ll be there for her.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” she almost whispers.

Her vague words make his heart drop. Does she mean a pregnancy? Or their whole relationship? “What are you saying?”

“I don’t know if I’m gonna be a good mother,” she answers quietly.

He gives a small sigh of relief that she isn’t calling off the wedding. “Of course you will be. Why would you think you wouldn’t be?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never really been around kids. Babies especially.”

“No parents know what the fuck they’re doing until they do. You don’t gotta worry about that shit.”

She looks up to him. “Do you want this, though? Now?”

He thinks a second. Even if he’s not sure if he’s ready, he knows that he’s always wanted children. “Yeah. I guess I do. I’m not fuckin’ happy how it came about, but I’m gonna love the shit outta our kids no matter what.”

Giving him a soft smile, she says, “I guess the universe decided we needed to get started on the baby train sooner rather than later.” She laughs a little, trying to make a joke to lessen the severity of the situation. “Pregnancy freaks me out, though. It’s like Alien. Some living thing all wiggling around in your belly.” She gives a little shrug. “I’ve never been broody.”

“Well, there’s no use freaking out about it right now, I guess. You’re probably not really even knocked up yet. It takes a few fuckin’ days for shit to settle.”

“Yeah.” She scratches at her head, trying to remember her old health class and what she learned about gestation and reproduction. “Should we take a test just to be sure? You know, when it’ll actually show up on a test. In, what, two or three weeks?”

“We’ll be on our honeymoon, baby girl,” he reminds her. 

“Oh, yeah.” She honestly hadn’t even been thinking about that with everything that happened.

“We’ll take one when we get back. Then we’ll call the doc and set shit up. We never did see if there was an omega doctor any closer to us than Dr. Bailey since we fuckin’ moved.”

“I don’t want a different doctor. I like her.”

Negan nods, though he doesn’t bring up that the thought of Chuck’s doctor being an hour’s drive away brings him some anxiety. “Alright. We’ll stay with the doc.”

Chuck nods then lets out a deep breath. “This is really happening...”

“You know what,” he squeezes her close again, “why don’t we just put all this shit out of our minds. Give us a little fuckin’ time to breathe. Focus on the wedding and honeymoon and shit.”

“Yeah.” She turns her head to look at him and gives him a soft smile. “That sounds good.”

 A little over two weeks later, Chuck and Negan wake up to a beautiful, sunny day. Before she even gets the chance to fully open her eyes, Negan pulls her close to his chest and lays a soft kiss on her crown.

“You ready to be my Mrs. today?” he whispers into her ear.

She giggles, though it’s lazy with sleep. “Is that today?” she jokes.

His chest rumbles against her back with a laugh. “Oh, you forgot ?”

“Guess it wasn’t important enough to remember,” she continues the joke.

He pulls her over so she’s underneath him. “I’ll show you important .”

As he leans down to give her a kiss, she takes a quick look at the clock. “Negan-“ she pushes him away. “We don’t have time. My mom’s supposed to be here in a half hour. Which means she’ll probably be here any minute.”

Groaning, he rests his head on her shoulder. “Fine.” He lifts back up to look down at her. “I’ll just have to show you tonight,” he comments with a waggle of his brows.

“I’m sure you will.”

Chuck was right in thinking that Diane would show up early. As soon as the couple walks down the stairs, there’s a knock on the door.

“You guys better be up!” Diane shouts through the door. “We have a lot to do!”

As Negan goes into the kitchen to start the coffee, Chuck rushes over to the door, opening it for her mother. “We’re up,” she responds once she sees her.

Diane walks right in. “You’re not dressed.”

Chuck looks down at her kitty cat night shirt. “We just got up,” she clarifies.

Diane looks around, not seeing the man of the house. “Tell me Negan isn’t naked or something.”

Chuck laughs. “He’s got pajama pants on.” She nods toward the kitchen. “He’s in there. Did you eat breakfast?”

“I had some toast before I left,” Diane answers. “I’m too excited to eat.”

“Negan’ll make us something.” Chuck turns toward the kitchen. “You need to eat. I don’t want you passing out during the ceremony.”

Diane gives her a look. “I’m supposed to be the one doing the mothering, not you.”

Though Diane meant it as a light joke, it causes Chuck to take in a sharp breath, making her choke on her own spit. Even though she and Negan had decided to put the baby talk off until after the honeymoon, it’s still in the back of her mind. 

“You okay, sweetie,” Diane calls out as she pats her daughter on the back.

“Yeah,” she sputters. “I’m just an idiot, swallowed down the wrong hole.”

Thankfully, Diane doesn’t question it and they go into the kitchen to meet Negan, who’s already at the stove.

“Are you making enough for Mom?” Chuck asks.

“I can put a couple more eggs on,” he throws over his shoulder as he breaks an egg over the frying pan.

After breakfast, the trio starts to decorate the backyard for the wedding. Aaron comes around not long after they start to lend a hand as well. It doesn't take too long, but by the end, they’re all happy with how things look. 

They have enough chairs set up for the few guests they have coming, all covered in matching fabric to hide the fact that they’re everyday folding chairs. Crepe paper flowers and candles decorate the two picnic tables that everyone will eat at during the reception and real flower petals are strewn across the ground. It may not be the most lavish setting for a wedding, but it’s perfect for Chuck and Negan.

With that done, it’s time to get dressed. To keep Negan from seeing Chuck early (which Diane insisted upon), he and Aaron head over to Rick’s house while Michonne comes over to lend a hand in getting Chuck ready.

“Oh, I like your dress,” Michonne comments once she sees the garment hanging on Chuck’s bedroom door.

“It’s not exactly a traditional one, but I liked it,” Chuck says with a shrug.

Michonne lifts the knee length skirt up a little, inspecting it. The white tulle under the champagne lace overlay gives it some volume, but it’s not too poofy. “I wouldn’t want one of those princess dresses, either.”

“Are you and Rick thinking about tying the knot?” Diane asks casually as she continues to pin up Chuck’s curls into something that looks more structured than anything she could do herself.

“No plans yet. But we’re happy.” Michonne gives her a dreamy smile, which Diane interprets as meaning that she’s actually thought about marriage at least once before.

After some time and with Chuck mostly dressed, the women are interrupted by the doorbell.

“I’ll run downstairs and get that,” Diane calls out. “It’s probably Dr. Bailey.”

Once she leaves the room, Chuck turns to Michonne. “She’s my omega doctor,” she explains to the beta. “She’s like the only other guest coming,” she says with a laugh then adds, “minus Simon.”

It’s actually the latter that has knocked on the door, as Diane finds out once she opens it. “Oh, hello,” she calls out in surprise as she spies the unfamiliar alpha on the doorstep. Chuck’s description of “tall, with a seventies porno stache” seems a lot more accurate than Diane assumed it would be. “You must be Negan’s friend.”

“Simon,” he provides then gives the beta before him a smile. “You must be Chuck’s mom.” He holds his hand out in a polite gesture. 

She accepts his handshake and can’t help but smile back at him. She’s never been one to look at an alpha twice (in a serious manner, anyway), but she finds herself oddly attracted to this one. “I’m Diane.” Before she can invite the man in, another car pulls up to the curb, drawing her attention.

Simon tears his gaze away from the attractive beta before him and looks over his shoulder to see what she sees. “Another guest?”

“The other guest,” Diane replies with a little laugh. “Excluding Rick’s family who’s helping out, of course. Chuck and Negan didn’t exactly invite a lot of people.”

“So you’re saying I should be flattered I got an invite.” He looks back to Diane with a mischievous smirk.

“I suppose you should,” she throws back easily then moves past Simon to greet Dr. Bailey and her husband. “Dr. Bailey,” she calls out cheerily.

“You can call me Leah outside of the office,” the doctor replies as she walks toward Diane. “And this is my husband Joe.”

“Nice to meet you.” Diane turns back and gestures to the door. “We can go through here to the back yard. The ceremony will start in a little bit. Whenever Negan gets here.”

Over at Rick’s, the men all get dressed for the ceremony. Negan had gotten himself a tailored tuxedo, though he foregoes putting on the tie, opting to leave the first few buttons of his shirt open. The other men there, Rick, Aaron, and Carl, are all sporting more casual outfits, but they’re still appropriately nice for a wedding.

As they wait for the time to go back to Negan’s, they all sit in Rick’s living room, drinking beers (minus Carl, who is playing video games in his room.)

“So,” Rick starts after taking a sip from his bottle, “I’m planning on buying Michonne a ring.”

Negan claps him on the back. “Congrats, man. Provided she actually says yes to your goofy lookin’ ass.”

Aaron jumps in. “Of course she will, Rick. Don’t listen to him.”

“I never do.” He laughs. “But it is weird. Going through this all again, for a second time.”

Negan nods, knowing what he’s talking about. “You never fuckin’ think the first marriage will be the first one until there’s a second. Shit, I never thought I’d do it again.”

Aaron nods at that, though there is a sadness behind it.

As Rick looks at the two men, he realizes that they’ve all had first ones, though his was the only one that ended in divorce. “Shit, guys. I’m sorry. I’m an asshole. I didn’t mean to-“

Aaron is quick to shut him down. “No, no. Don’t worry about it. It’s ok.” He gives him a soft smile. “It’s been... nine months since Eric died,” he comments.

“Fuck,” Negan says under his breath. “I can’t believe it’s been that long already.”

“Yeah,” Aaron replies with a nod. “Diane’s been telling me to get back in the dating scene again. I’ve been talking to this guy. But... I don’t know about dating .” He shrugs a shoulder. “Like Diane’s one to talk. She hasn’t been on a date in twenty years.”

Negan points the lip of his bottle to Aaron. “You just gotta do you. If you’re ready to stick your dick in someone else, go for it. If not,” he shrugs, “then don’t.”

“Thanks, Negan,” Aaron says dryly. “Very eloquent.”

“You’re welcome,” he calls back with a wink.

With a slew of stomps coming from the stairs, Carl makes his appearance to the ground floor.

“Jesus Christ, kid,” Negan calls out. “You sound like a herd of goddamn elephants.”

Carl just shrugs with teenage nonchalance, but Rick laughs. “Michonne gets on him all the time for running down the stairs.”

“Shit, I would not want to be on the opposite side of a Michonne lecture,” Negan says genuinely. “She’s fuckin’ intense.”

Carl shrugs again, his teenage overconfidence is unmoved by anything Negan has to say. “Isn’t it time to go, yet.”

Negan looks at his watch. “Yeah, probably.” He gets up and downs the rest of his beer. “Let’s get this shit on the road.”

Negan and his entourage walk the short distance over to Negan’s house and go right to the back yard. They’re met by Diane, the Baileys, and Simon sat around the fire pit having a casual discussion.

“I’m a little surprised to see another alpha here,” Dr. Bailey, or Leah since she’s off the clock, says to Simon.

The man just shrugs. “I can’t say I have a ton of alpha friends.” He turns his head to the arrivals. “Negan’s alright, I guess,” he jokes.

“The fuck you mean ‘alright’?” Negan calls back. “I’m the shit.”

Everyone laughs at Negan’s over-the-top demeanor. Diane isn’t about to let his ego go unchecked though.

“Yeah, yeah,” she jokes as she starts to stand. “So you think.”

Negan doesn’t take it to heart, knowing the woman well enough to see that she’s being lighthearted. “Damn right,” he says with a chuckle.

“Chucky about ready?” Aaron jumps in.

“I was just going to check,” Diane answers already on her way to the door.

Just a few moments later, Diane returns (with Michonne in tow), signaling that everyone should take their seats. Negan and Aaron walk up front to take their positions, everyone waiting  for the bride to make her appearance.

Chuck waits a few moments at the back door, taking a deep breath to settle her nerves. Even though everyone out there is close to her, her innate social anxiety is making itself known by quickening her heart rate.

“Okay,” she breathes out. “Here we go.”

She slides the door open and starts to walk outside, remembering not to walk too quickly like her mother told her. Her eyes instantly travel past the standing guests facing her along the sides and to the man in the middle. 

Once Negan first spies his mate walking toward him, looking beautiful in white, his face breaks out in the biggest grin. “Ho-ly shit ,” he says to himself, his eyes prickling with happy tears. “Fuckin’ beautiful.”

Chuck giggles at his reaction as she continues down their makeshift aisle, her own tears of joy welling up. Negan was always the most handsome man she’s ever met, but somehow he’s managed to be even more so today.

As she takes her position facing Negan, he grabs one of her hands, holding it gently in his own. “You look gorgeous,” he whispers to her and swipes the tear tracking down her cheek with his free hand.

“Not so bad yourself,” she replies with a chuckle.

With everyone now seated, Aaron takes his place behind the couple. “So,” he clears his throat. “I guess I’m supposed to officiate this thing. I, uh,” he chuckles to himself, “I did some research into the traditional mating ceremony, thinking maybe I should do something like that. But I decided maybe we shouldn’t go in that direction.”

“Thank fuck,” Negan pipes up, causing everyone to laugh. “That shit’ll make everyone want to blow their brains out.”

Aaron chuckles before continuing. “It was beautiful, the ceremony,” he says diplomatically, “but I felt it wasn’t right for you guys. It focuses on the couple coming together, preordained, to make ‘the pack’ stronger. The group is more important than its members, it seems.” He looks to Negan, hoping he hasn’t missed the mark completely with all this. When Negan doesn’t give him that telltale “I’m pissed” look, Aaron figures he’s doing well enough.

So he continues. “I researched regular- beta ,” he corrects himself, “marriage ceremony. But that wasn’t right, either. It’s more about duty to one another. Choosing a person to care for and love for the rest of your days.

“We know you guys have always been a little different. So I’m going to take a little bit from both worlds. I really liked the way the mating ceremony described the wedding ring,” he pauses, “so I blatantly plagiarized it.” Everyone chuckles as he puts his hand in his pocket and produces the two rings Negan had given him earlier. “By their very name, the alpha comes first and the omega, last. But when they come together, they form a ring,” he holds the white gold jewelry up to everyone, “and the start and the end aren’t obvious. But if they were to separate, the ring would lose all integrity. Only when they are one, is when they’re most strong.”

Aaron hand the rings to Chuck and Negan. “We’re skipping over the fact that it’s usually only the alpha that gets the ring, since omegas have their mark. But since this is a combined wedding, you both have rings. And, of course, we’re doing the beta ‘I do’s. So...” He turns to Negan. “Do you vow to love, honor, and cherish Chuck, in sickness and in heath, for all of your days?”

Negan gives his bride a smile and answers, “Fuck yes, I do.” As everyone chuckles at his words, he places the ring on her delicate finger.

“And you, Chuck?” Aaron continues. “Do you vow to love, honor, and cherish Negan, in sickness and in health, for all of your days?”

She looks back to the man in front of her, the man that’s changed her life for the better, the man that’s made her feel things she never felt possible, and responds, “Yes. I do.” Though her words are soft and choked with emotion, they reach everyone’s straining ears.

Aaron clears his throat and wipes his own eye before saying, “by the powers vested to be by... well no one, I guess,” he jokes, “I now pronounce you husband and wife. And true mates,” he adds with a smile then looks at Negan, “You may now... tastefully ,” he stresses, “kiss your bride.”

The couple looks at each other for only a moment before leaning forward and kissing in a perfectly appropriate way. Even though Negan thinks that it would be hilarious to plant a scorching hot kiss on his new wife, he thinks better of it, knowing it would embarrass her in front of her family.

Negan grabs ahold of Chuck’s hand and thrusts it up in the air. “Let’s fuckin’ party!”

The reception isn’t so much a raucous bash, but a summer backyard barbecue. Negan mans the grill, cooking burgers, hot dogs, and chicken. With the small group of people, it doesn’t take too long to fill everyone’s plates. As everyone sits at the picnic tables to eat their dinners, conversation flows easily.

“That was a beautiful ceremony,” Leah comments.

Aaron chuckles. “I’m sure it wasn’t like the weddings you’re used to.”

The doctor shrugs. “I liked it. Short and sweet,” she replies with a smile.

“You did good.” Negan leans over and claps Aaron on the shoulder. “Uncle Aaron,” he tacks on with a smirk.

Aaron shakes his head. “Don’t call me that,” he calls back, not really angry. “You’re older than me.”

“Eh.” Negan shrugs a shoulder. “You know I’m still gonna fuckin’ do it.”

“Yeah, I know,” Aaron resigns. “You like to be difficult,”’ he jokes.

“You have no idea,” Chuck chimes in.

Negan swivels his head to face her. “You regretting this already?” he jests.

“Totally,” Chuck calls back quickly.

Negan just laughs, knowing Chuck’s sense of humor. “You’re stuck with me now, sweetheart.”

As far as wedding receptions go, it’s fairly mild. After their meal, an impromptu bar is set up on the porch. But instead of the liquor flowing freely, it more trickles. No one in the group is that big of a drinker typically. Chuck, of course, abstains, but that’s not really unusual and doesn’t raise any suspicion. Some mixed drinks are made, but certainly not enough to empty the few bottles that Negan had bought for the occasion. The beer goes better, but no one really over indulges. Simon drinks the most out of everyone, but having owned a bar for years, he can hold his liquor.

Dr. Bailey and her husband are the first to leave, since they have a long drive ahead of them. Then Carl, of course, as the event isn’t suited to keep a teenager’s attention very well. As night falls, everyone else gathers around the fire pit to enjoy the mild weather and the friendly company. 

After several minutes of conversation with Rick, Michonne, and Aaron, Negan nudges Chuck and points to where Simon and Diane are sitting by each other. “They look fuckin’ cozy,” he whispers in her ear.

Chuck turns just in time to see her mother laugh out loud at something Simon had said. “Oh god,” she says as she picks up on what Negan was saying. The pair is sitting close to each other, Simon with his hand resting on the back of Diane’s chair and her with her crossed legs angled toward him. “It’s so weird to see my mom flirting. I kinda hate it.”

“Aw, come on. You don’t want them to get their fuck on in the guest room tonight?”

Chuck whips her head around to glare at her husband. “Why would you say that?!” She lets out a shiver and groans. “Gross.”

“Well, they’re sleeping under our roof tonight so... it could fuckin’ happen.”

“Ugh!” She swats at his chest. “What is wrong with you?! Don’t even joke about that! Scar me for life,” she mutters under her breath.

Once Rick and Michonne leave, Chuck and Negan, along with their extended family of Diane, Aaron, and Simon, head inside to sleep the festivities off. Even though it would have been nice to have the house to themselves for some post marital bliss, it made more sense to have Diane and Aaron sleep over since they are going to drive the happy couple to the airport early in the morning. And since they were already having guests, Negan figured Simon might as well stay and not risk driving home late with more than a few beers in his system. 

When the morning comes, it’s pretty hectic getting everything ready for their honeymoon, but they manage to get to the airport with their luggage and plenty of time to spare. And that means they have a lot of waiting around to do before they board the plane and get in the air. Just as Negan thinks he’ll go out of his mind in boredom, they’re called to their gate. Once they get to cruising altitude, the flight goes smoothly and they get a chance to relax. After an hour layover in California and a few more hours in the air, they get to their resort in Hawaii just in time to get a quick meal and go to bed.

Knowing that they’d be tired from the travel, they leave the first official day of their honeymoon open to just lounge around and let the jet lag wear off. After eating a late breakfast, they don their swimming suits and head out to the private beach owned by their hotel. Hand in hand, they lazily walk the shore.

“I’ve never been to the Pacific Ocean before,” Chuck mentions as she looks off towards the horizon. “It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah. You did good suggesting Hawaii. I’m liking all this sun and fuckin’ flowers and shit.”

Chuck giggles at him. “I think we made a mistake moving to Alexandria. We shoulda bought a house here. Just a little beach house right on the water.”

“Sounds fuckin’ good to me,” he jokes back. “Let’s quit our jobs and spend all day lounging naked on the fuckin’ beach.”

“Oh god. Now all I can think about is getting a sunburn on my nether bits. That would be horrible.”

Negan laughs. “You’re right. Your pale as fuck ass would burn right up.”

“Hey, you can’t complain about it now. You’re the one that married me.”

“You know I love your pale ass.” He pulls her into side and kisses her head. “You smell like fuckin’ sunscreen.”

She laughs at him. “I bet. I pretty much bathed in it.”

When they get their fill of sun and sand for the day, they go back to their room to relax before dinner. Chuck takes off the sarong covering her bikini and plops down on the bed, throwing her arms out and laying back. Negan kicks off his flip flops and joins her to lay on his side next to her.

“So where are we gonna eat?” Chuck asks, not moving her gaze from the ceiling.

“What do you want?” Negan moves his hand to her bare stomach and rubs it in a circular motion.

Chuck looks down at his hand on her tummy and suddenly she’s not thinking about dinner anymore. After they had decided not to confirm their pregnancy suspicions with a test until after the honeymoon, they hadn’t really talked about having children. Both of them seemed to choose to keep their attention on their nuptials instead of discussing that heavy topic.

Negan senses the change in mood between them and once he sees her gaze on his hand, he realizes why. “So...” He clears his throat and moves to sit up on the edge of the bed.

Chuck sits up as well, then giggles awkwardly. “Sorry. I guess my mind wandered.”

“It’s alright. I guess I’ve been fuckin’ thinking about it, too. I mean, shit. How can I not?”

She mutters a “yeah,” as she keeps her gaze on her own hands in her lap.

“You feel alright,” he looks at her, “right?”

“Yeah. I feel fine. Normal, really.”

“That’s good.” 

She finally turns her head in his direction. “You’ve really been thinking about it?” she asks, referring to what he said just a moment ago.

He nods. “Maybe I’ve been a dick for not talking more-“

“No,” she cuts him off. “I wasn’t talking about it either. I just didn’t-“ She pauses, not knowing how to really finish the sentence.

In truth, she’s spent a lot of time thinking about what it would mean to be pregnant, to bring a child into this world. At first, she was terrified. That’s part of the reason she didn’t seek Negan out for discussion. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him or think that he wouldn’t do everything in his power to be a good father, it was simply that she was unsure in herself. Then, the more they went on ignoring it, the more worried she got that maybe Negan really wasn’t ready for this monumental change. 

But the fact of the matter is, Negan was having the same exact thought process as her. He was questioning wether or not he’d be a good father and he didn’t want to voice that to his mate. Then, when she seemed to gloss over her possible pregnancy, he didn’t want to push the subject.

Separately, though, they both eventually came to the same conclusion. Despite their fears of inadequacy, despite the way this all came about, they both are absolutely excited at the prospect of starting a family. Now, they just have to tell each other that.

“You didn’t what?” Negan asks, hoping the rest of her thought won’t be something that he doesn’t want to hear.

She looks in his eyes and decides to tell him the truth. “I’m...” she gives him a tentative smile, “I didn’t want to force you into this. But... I’m kind of... really looking forward to having a kid.”

Negan lets out a huff of breath in relief that turns into a laugh. “Fuck, I’m so glad to hear you say that.”

“What?” She chuckles back.

“I wasn’t fuckin’ sure if you even really wanted it. And I was scared as fuck to tell you that I really fuckin’ want it. You don’t have to fuckin’ worry about forcing me into shit.”

“You’re sure?” she asks, relief tinting her tone.

“Shit, yeah. I mean, I’m still a little anxious about it. But it’s fuckin’ funny. I was excited for all this,” he gestures around them, “honeymoon shit, but I’m even more fuckin’ excited to get you home so you can piss on that test and show that plus sign.”

She laughs at him, her whole face lighting up with the motion. “I’m excited about that, too,” she admits through chuckles. “What a weird thing to be excited about. Peeing on a stick.”

The rest of their honeymoon goes quickly. They hit up some of the tourist things, glass bottom boat trip around the coast, a helicopter tour of the island, hot rock massages at the spa. They made sure not to load up their schedules too much, leaving enough time to lounge on the beach and, of course, enough time in the bedroom.

With phones full of pictures and skin a little bit darker, (For Negan, a nice tan. For Chuck, more freckles) they head back home. Unfortunately due to delays at the airport, they get back to their house much later than they wanted to. So the trip to the drugstore has to wait until the next day.

Bright and early the following morning, the newlywed couple heads to the nearest Walmart, avoiding their old pharmacy for obvious reasons. After looking over the pregnancy test options in the feminine hygiene aisle, they pick two different ones and head home. The car ride isn’t a long one, but it seems like forever before they make it back to their house and upstairs to the master bath.

“So I gotta pee on this end for five seconds,” Chuck says aloud as she reads the instruction paper in her left hand. In her right, she holds the test.

Negan looks up from the packet he’s reading, much in the same way. “This one says the same thing.”

“Should I do them both at once or one at a time?”

“Might as well piss on both of ‘em. We already know what the result’s gonna fuckin’ be. I don’t even know why you wanted to buy two.”

Chuck shrugs. “I don’t know. Just to be sure. What if I didn’t do one right? Or we got a messed up test?”

Negan shrugs back and hands her the test he has. “Get going then.”

With a giggle, she accepts the proffered item to join the similar one already in her hand and takes them both to the toilet. It’s a bit awkward to pee on the specific strip (especially with Negan watching), but in just a few moments, the deed is done.

As they sit down on the floor, their backs leaning on the counter, they wait for the five minutes to be over. After some contemplative silence, Negan asks casually, “You think it’s twins? Triplets?”

“God,” Chuck breathes out with a chuckle. “I don’t think I want more than twins. Even that sounds daunting.”

“With you in heat and me in rut, I’d be surprised if you push out just one fuckin’ rugrat.”

“Is it that uncommon?” she looks over to him to ask, then a thought occurs to her. “You’re an only child.”

“I wasn’t,” he answers, sadness tingeing his words. “I was a twin, but there were fuckin’ complications at birth. My sister didn’t survive,” he takes a deep breath, “and my mom could never get pregnant again. That’s part of the reason my father was such a goddamn bastard to her my whole life.” He shakes his head and his voice turns bitter. “She couldn’t ‘do what she was made to do’ he’d fuckin’ say.” He shrugs. “I probably got half brothers and sisters all over, though. My dad couldn’t be fuckin’ faithful if his life depended on it.”

“I’m sorry,” Chuck says genuinely and he looks to her, “...that your childhood kinda sucked.”

“It’s alright.��� He wraps his arm around her shoulder and pulls her into him. “It’s the fuckin’ past. And I don’t wanna fuckin’ think about that sad shit now. Not when I’m about to get confirmation that I’m gonna be a daddy.”

Chuck’s phone chimes, signally that five minutes has past and the couple look to each other.

Negan stands quickly, holding his hand out to help Chuck stand. “Lets look at that plus sign.”

They both lean over the counter, their eyes trained on the two plastic tests sitting face down. Chuck flips the first one and looks to the indicator window for the plus sign. But a single line is all she sees.

Her brows furrow as confusion sets in. She quickly flips the other test and is met by another single line. Flipping her gaze between the two tests, she says to herself, “I don’t understand.”

When she finally looks up to Negan, who has been uncharacteristically quiet, she sees that his face is twisted in an unpleasant emotion. Was it anger? No. It’s more like... fear.

“What?” she instantly asks.

He stares at her a moment, his breathing fast and shallow, his eyes flicking around wildly.

“What?!” she insists.

“Get your fuckin’ shoes on. We’re leaving.” He turns and stomps out of the bathroom, leaving no room for argument.

Chuck follows after him with quick steps, all the while asking him what’s wrong. He doesn’t answer, though, his mind a singular focus on getting to the door.

“Negan, please. Just tell me what’s going on,” she pleads again as her husband finally pauses his momentum to toe on his shoes by the door to the garage.

“Just get your fuckin’ shoes on, Chuck. Goddamnit.” He picks up her shoes and tosses them to her.

“Stop!” she cries out, tears now pooling in her eyes.

Negan finally looks at her fully and takes a deep breath to calm his racing heart. “Lucille couldn’t get pregnant and we we’re too fuckin’ caught up in other shit to think something was wrong. We tried for fuckin’ months. Then when we finally decided to go to the doctor...” his voice hitches a bit, “That’s when they found the fuckin’ cancer. And it was too goddamn late.”

Chuck looks at him with wide eyes. “Oh my god, Negan. You think I have cancer ?!”

“Just get your shoes on and I’ll take you to the doc. Please, Chuck. Please .”

She stares at him a moment longer before moving. With her mind reeling, she hastily slips on her shoes and follows Negan out to the car. All she can think about is that just when she thought she’d got everything she’d ever wanted, it could all be ripped from her. 

Tags: @mypopurribitch​ @negans-womam​ @haleyea​ @ultrahviolent​ @thedeadwalks​ @readinginmymeadow​ @strangeandunusual-83 @lettherebepink​

[ourloveisforthelovely]

To the Ends of the Earth 17

A/n: Supernatural AU. OOC Gabriel

Link to Chapter 16

Pairings: Gabriel x Reader

_______

Gabriel did not let go of you for a good five minutes. You were not about to argue about it either. This had been the first bit of physical affection that the two of you had shared is some time.

After a few moments longer, Gabriel finally let go of you. He glanced over his shoulder at Amelia, who was not even looking up. The kid was too busy building her mud pies or whatever she was doing. Gabriel smirked. The kid reminded him too much of you as a child. Sometimes it was like looking in a gigantic mirror!

“Hey kid, why don’t you go inside and clean up?”

Gabriel said with a smile. Amelia nodded before standing up and dusting off her dirty pants.

“Okay, I am really dirty anyway. My daddy is going to have a cow.”

Gabriel partly wished that he could see Sam’s face when the kid walked in with mud and dirt all over her.

The amused feeling vanished as Gabriel remembered what he had to talk to you about. This wasn’t going to be a good conversation in the slightest.

“Y/n, I need to talk to you about something.”

Your happy smile quickly vanished and was replaced by that serious expression that Gabriel wished that he never had to see. He liked making you smile. This look was the furthest thing from a smile imaginable.

“Gabriel, I don’t like conversations that start like this.”

You said. It was the truth too. It seemed like every time Gabriel talked to you with this particular tone something was going straight to hell in a giant dumpster fire.

Gabriel looked at you sympathetically.

“Sugar, I was talking with Dean. We both had thought that it would be a good idea for me to keep an eye on Raphael. It seems like he is taking up making some friends around here. When I say friends, I mean other angels that have been on earth for a long time. I’m going to be gone for a few weeks...I don’t want….”

“You’ve got to be kidding me!”

You snapped. Gabriel sighed. He didn’t say anything for a moment. In fact, you didn’t give him a chance to get a word out. Gabriel only looked at you with that annoyed expression that he seemed to be wearing a lot more lately.

“Where was I in this conversation? Why am I never considered? I’m supposed to be your wife and I am always left out in the cold on these decisions! It's like you are just fine talking to my brothers and Cas more than me. Would you just prefer it if you kept me locked at home all barefoot and pregnant or something? I’m not some 1950’s housewife that is just going to sit around and wait for you to come home! This is insane Gabriel! Every time you go anywhere near your psycho brothers you come back not in the condition that you left in! You are just getting your grace back to 100% and now you are going back after them...this is insane!”

Gabriel gave you an innocent shrug.

“First off, barefoot and pregnant? Who the hell says that? Second, gross. You know I want nothing to do with children. Amelia is fine. She isn’t ours! We can play with her then send her back to Sam when we get sick of her. Third, I don't want you to be a stereotypical housewife. I like you the way you are. It's what I love the most about you...even though you can be difficult. Now that my grace is back, it would be the best time. Nothing is going to happen this time, Y/n.”

You shook your head wanting to sit down and hold your head in your hands.

“Then let me go with you. You know that I can hold my own in a fight.”

Gabriel shook his head.

“Not happening. I won’t be able to keep my thoughts where they will need to be. I will be worrying about you the whole time. That is how people get killed.”

You muttered something about being a big girl and not needing to be watched over all the time.

“Yes, you do and you are not going. That’s my final word.”

Gabriel said, taking on his “archangel” tone. You looked at him coldly before turning and storming back toward the bunker’s entrance. In a few hours, you would regret not kissing him goodbye or saying “I love you” at the moment, however, you wanted to kick the archangel in the shins.

“I think that I am going to form my own country and declare war on you and Dean!”

“Y/n…”

Gabriel started but stopped when you held your hand up.

“You aren’t going to listen to me anyway. I am just wasting my breath. Be ready to get a declaration of war notice...hope you and your new best friend forever Dean are up to it.”

You stormed into the bunker without another word.

Storming into the kitchen, you froze seeing Amelia looking at a gooey pancake that Sam put in front of her.

“Daddy this is gross.”

Sam looked up with a sigh and immediately knew what was wrong.

“Hold that thought, sweetheart.”

Sam said, petting Amelia’s head and turning to face you.

“I see Gabriel talked to you.”

Your eyes flickered in your older brother’s direction. Sam’s face was wary as he gave you a sympathetic expression.

“I see you knew about it too. I’m declaring war on you also.”

You snapped. Sam frowned.

“I said that he was wrong to handle this the way that he is.”

You stopped dead in your tracks and was silent for a moment. Sam was on your side. Good old Sam! You could help but be thankful for him at the moment. It was always Sam that stuck up for you when Dean treated you like a kid. Sam wanted to make sure that you had equal say in whatever the situation was.

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

You said softly. Sam shook his head.

“You don’t have to apologize. I know that you get sick of being treated like a little kid.”

You nodded, coldly. That was an understatement! You were beyond sick of being treated like a child. This was the perfect opportunity to throw your feelings up in Gabriel’s face. He hated when his older brothers treated him like that kid in the family now here he was doing the same thing to you!

“I really do. Sam, do you think that I am a capable hunter?”

Sam nodded, looking over his shoulder making sure that Amelia was busy with her coloring and not paying attention to the conversation at hand.

“You know I do.”

You stepped forward and wrapped your arms around Sam’s waist. He didn’t wait before wrapping his arms around you.

“Y/n, I know that you can handle almost anything that comes your way. I also know that Gabriel and Dean are trying in some annoying way to protect you too. It doesn’t mean that you should be sidelined to the kids table though.”

“All Gabriel and Dean want me to do is sit around here and play den mother. Normally I don’t mind but today I am extra pissy!”

Sam chuckled.

“Want me to take you out for ice cream?”

You stubbornly nodded. Sam smiled before turning back to Amelia who was looking up at ice cream.

“I wanna come.”

She said with a pouty expression that mirrored her father’s. You smiled at your niece before motioning her forward.

“Well, come on, sweetheart.”

Half an hour later, you sat nibbling on what was left of your ice cream cone. Amelia was halfway through a very messy hot fudge cake. You smirked as Sam sat the napkin that he was holding down in clear defeat of keeping Amelia’s white shirt clean.

“She eats like Dean.”

You said with a smile. Sam shook his head with a loud sigh.

“She is a lot like her world's okayest uncle.”

Glancing around the restaurant, you couldn’t help but notice several sets of eyes starring in your direction. You tried to keep the obviousness of the situation under control as you gazed at the multiple being looking in your direction.

“Angles.”

You muttered. Sam looked up.

“What?”

You looked around the room again discreetly before focusing your attention on your older brother.

“There are a shit ton of angels here. 1 guess as to who they are after.”

Sam didn’t even have to respond. He knew. It was you. Michael and Raphael had made it clear to any angel that you were hit number 1.

“Do you have your angel blade?”

Sam whispered. You nodded, not even having to feel for the weapon at your side. Glancing down to Amelia, you muttered fuck. This was going to be a hell of a way from your niece to figure out that angels were real and weren’t always the good guys.

“Make sure that she doesn’t peek.”

Sam nodded before leaning down and whispering something into his daughter’s ear. His eyes rolled back to yours.

“I’ve got your back.”

You nodded before stepping out of the booth. Pretending to be unaware of the danger at hand, you walked to the restaurant door. You stopped and looked out into the pleasant Kansas sunny afternoon. After taking a few deep breaths, you returned to the counter where the owner stood counting money.

“Can I get you something?”

He asked, casually. You nodded.

“A glass of water, please.”

As he went to the soda machine to fill up the cup in hand you slowly felt for the revolver in the back of your jeans.Angel killing bullets...check

“So do you have insurance on this place?”

You asked. The owner shook his head.

“Nah, nothing ever happens here.”

“Too bad.”

You muttered before taking a sip of your water. After a few more moments of silence, you turned to the angels casually sitting about the place.

“Hello, you bunch of holy fuckers. I am Y/n Winchester and I am here to deport you right back to heaven where you belong.”

As soon as the words left your lips, an angel had a hold of your hand. It took you all of two seconds to sink the angel blade into the chest of the being. After the angel was dead you turned to face a few others that were stepping closer to you.

“Oh look, you brought your friends.”

You muttered as Sam took out a few angels to your left. You reached behind you taking out your revolver and blasting the angel killing bullets into the others.

“Sam, remind me to thank Dean for his hard work on these bullets.”

Before Sam could respond, a voice you knew well began to speak

.“Yes, let's thank Dean.”

Your eyes widened as Raphael stepped out from the booth that you couldn’t see. Christ…

‘Hello, Y/n. I see you don’t have my brother watching your every move?”

You swallowed as Raphael gave you that cold brutal smile that could scare anyone to death.

“I don’t need Gabriel to watch my every move, dickbag. I have my big girl panties on. You and Michael need to get some new hobbies. I swear you two are like our little annoying fan brats that just won’t go away. I hear that scrap booking is nice.”

Raphael raised an eyebrow.

“Is that supposed to be funny? Do you think that you are funny or something?”

You grinned.

“In the words of my dear brother, I think that I am adorable.”

Raphael’s unnamed expression deepened.

“You are about to be dead. It won’t be a bad thing. I will just have to watch Gabriel be in agony for the rest of eternity but I think that I can manage that.”

You glanced at Sam out of the corner of your eye, he was watching Raphael's every move and was ready to pounce on the archangel.

“I’ve got it, Sam.”

You said softly before looking back to Raphael.

“You first.”

Before Raphael could get his hand up, you fired the gun, hitting him square in the chest. Raphael blinked stupidly as the pain began to take over.

“Bet you never expected this did you, you stupid son of a bitch? Archangel killing bullets. You thought I was just playing? Bitch I never play! Now you're dead and Michael will be next.”

You looked away as Raphael died. Part of you wanted to watch. The other part didn’t. You knew that this would be what it would be like if Gabriel died and your mind didn’t want to process it. You also didn’t want to process the thought that you would have to tell Gabriel that you had killed his brother. At odds or not, Raphael was still Gabriel’s brother and this would probably be a rough thing.

Sam’s hand touching the small of your back made you jump. You turned to face your brother, who cradled his clearly stunned daughter in his arms.

“What did aunty do?”

She whispered, looking around. Sam sighed. He had all of the intentions of letting his daughter grow up in ignorance of the ways of their “world.” Amelia could be the one that went into the world without fooling with the supernatural but who was Sam kidding? This would be her life just like it was his and yours.

“She saved all of us.”

______

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