#i literally cannot imagine sending someone mean shit ANONYMOUSLY | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

istheresomebodywhocanimagine · 5 years

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New York Minute PT. 2

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

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

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

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

---

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dyingunknown-blog · 5 years

Text

BEGINNINGS + GENDER

As said in the introduction: this is a selfish blog where I rant about myself and my feelings. Here goes my first ramble. Within this ramble contains bits of: gender, femininity, sexuality and eating disorders. Y’know, the usual mix of edgy Tumblr content. I am posting this in celebration of Pride Month (!!! YAY!!! I HONESTLY LOVE PRIDE MONTH) but also because I’ve had this build up in my heart for too long.

A NOTE BEFORE I BEGIN...

I know you (reader) cannot hear me doing this, so imagine me (author) taking a deep breath, filling my semi spacious lungs, and releasing all that pent up air with a heavy sigh.

Here we fucking go. Here’s to tip of the iceberg, from 4 years of pent up gay shit to recent moments of gentle gender dysmorphia. Do not expect my writing to be fully coherent, nor written in the best grammar. I am writing for my own therapeutic needs, because I gotta get some of this energy released and I have nowhere else to dump this. This piece is a full on rant, as in I literally wrote this angrily tapping away at 2-4 am. However, I’d like to mention that I mean no offence to any parties, and simply want to vent out some of the deep thoughts I’ve been pacing around for the past few years. Feel free to send me a message regarding your personal feelings, or to just chat. I’m always here as a friend and listener <3

WHERE IT ALL BEGAN...

I think I owe myself and you (reader) an explanation on where things began to really start. The main “spark” that got me going and prompted me to start this blog was when I found myself unable to stop playing songs by Dorian Electra. Actually-- to be honest-- it was the music videos that really got me going. The glorious explosion of just “QUEER” screaming and banging its head at my 13 inch Mac Book Pro got me extremely inspired to actually do something about the gross reactions of confusion that were occurring in my brain and body. As Dorian Electra put it, “You know I’m not straight, but I’m gonna give it straight to you.” So here’s my best shot at “giving it straight.”

By the way... I’m from a fairly traditional family with high hopes for me, so the most freedom I can really grasp onto is starting an anonymous Tumblr blog at 2 am laying naked with just my underwear on.

PERSONAL TOPIC 1: GENDER...

So here’s the thing, I stick to my biological birth gender like it’s my lifeline-- my comfort zone-- I guess, if anything. I personally feel like gender and sexuality have their own little symbiotic (or perhaps parasitic???) relationship, where one’s gender impacts their sexuality-- but I can also accept that my understanding is probably not politically correct. I can say, however, with a heavy heart:

I am utterly fucked when I think about my gender and sexuality.

I’ll take it easy first and rope down my feelings towards my gender and its definition. I jokingly scream in the halls that gender is a social construct, but let’s be honest-- is it not? Other than our dongle-longs and hoochie-has, what makes a woman different from a man? I mean maybe it is just the sausage and the grapefruit, but I’d like to argue that... Just kidding, the more I think about it the more I fall into a rabbit hole where I can’t figure out what a male is and what a female is. I mean what are they? Is it based off of the definition I provide for myself, or what society conveniently slams into my face? Is the LGBTQ+ community the people who get to decide or is it the Westboro Baptist Church???

Note: these are not a rhetorical question, please answer this to your opinion because I’m in desperate need of some kind of direction beyond biology. I accept all ideologies and concepts. I’m just hella confused.

Ehem.

Anyways, my own battle with gender goes beyond not knowing where the “line” is, or if it even exists (again, I’m still not sure if this is a personal question or something based on society...) It also goes into where I stand on this polarised scale. See-- I have a bean, a hole, and melons. Alas, in slightly more proper terms, I have a clitoris, vagina and breasts. So what does that mean for me? Am I automatically a woman? For the first 17 years of my life, I would respond to that question with a VERY confident nod. Pink was once my favourite colour, I like boys, dresses, cute animals and romcoms. My physical body only went to assure what I already knew. Now? I’m not so sure. As it is more acceptable nowadays to be “queer,” I’ve slid into the an identity crisis where I realise I’ve never revelled in the fact that I had tiddies, nor felt comfortable about having a coochie. I used to blame my confusion regarding my comfort in my biological gender on the growing queer influences in my life-- after all, everyone wants to be special and sometimes being apart of the LGBTQ+ community is the best way to stand out, especially when it’s being shoved in your face with media. Everyone who comes out of the closet is faced with incredible amounts of love and attention, and my younger self thought “maybe I should get on the boat” hence, labelling myself as bisexual for the longest time without truly feeling like I am (until in recent years.) I blamed my confusion in identity and sexuality on the attention whore who lived inside of my heart. My feelings were only justified as true this year, when I found myself staring at myself in the mirror and couldn’t help but to feel unhappy with what I presented myself with. Undies clad with a slightly cropped black muscle tank, I could see the linings of a “V” line on my lower abdomen and felt kinda hot about it. I did the annoying fuckboy pose (you know, the one where the guy is biting his shirt to reveal his oh-so-humble six pack) and found it... kinda fun? I did have a 36D underboob flail around, but my focus was more on my bottom half, with my Victoria Secret blue lace underwear and masculine illusion. It wasn’t like a grand glorious moment, nor was it like I was the tomboy of the house and everyone just “knew” and I only had to convince myself. Instead, it was an anti-climatic moment where I realised “fuck, I have another problem on my hands that I can’t ignore anymore.”

I don’t know if I truly identify as female or male. Honestly, I don’t really think I need to identify myself, but that’s the 30% of my consciousness who is super queer, chill and cool. See, the other 70% of my mind is going in a frenzy screaming, because I just lost one of my key defining attributes. Think that episode of Spongebob, where Spongebob’s brain cells are screaming and throwing papers around the office setting of his brain.

Another question has also become increasingly relevant in my journey of finding my “true inner zen self.”

Who am I choosing my gender for?

In 2018, and most of the years before, I adored being loved by boys and having guys waggle their dicks like dog tails for my tits and ass, but in 2019, I randomly figured out that I never liked my boobs for anything but that. I mean having an hourglass figure was always (and still is) a goal of mine, but I question for what reason. I’d like to say it’s for personal aesthetic appeal, but it wouldn’t be surprising to me if I just do it so people will like me more. In fact, I battled with bulimia for the very reason of: I don’t know what the fuck I want or like, but the crowd likes “skinny thick” girls so lets do that by purging. Am I currently wearing a waist trainer and corset on top of each other because I like the outcome, or because the people around me like me more for it? I’m trying really hard not to segue into the alluring topic of toxic femininity, because I can rant for HOURS AND PAGES about that, so I’ll just say: I don’t know if I’m being a girl for myself or because I’ll be more liked for it.

In all honesty, the truth regarding my gender became clearer the more I self conscious I became. In 2018, I fell into the trap of sending boys nudes (apologies for the TMI and sorry family if you somehow came across my blog and are currently reading this.) I liked it for a millisecond. Why? Because it felt good to have someone desperate for me. That millisecond died off real fast. My own thoughts pooped my nude Alpha Female party with insecurity and fear of how my body compares to other girls my age. Three days after the first nude I sent I realised I hate my body. I felt empowered in the moment (honestly I do love the feeling of tease. I still do send ohohoho raunchy pics for the pure euphoria of just having someone crave me) but overall just left the experience with lingering guilt and self hatred. I wasn’t sure if I was doing this to please myself or others. I also abhor taking nudes, because I do not think I embody femininity and dislike my body for that very reason. Identifying as male makes me far more comfortable than as identifying as a female. I might have tits, I might have soft facial features, but I just don’t like how I mentally feel like I can’t compare to the unrealistic standard of femininity that women uphold. I spent my whole life trying to tick the boxes under “female,” but always felt like I was just doing the bare minimum... Hence my past is full of desperation, the need to show skin for the sake of proving I’m “sexy” and being perfectly fine with getting mislabeled as a slut at school. Nowadays, I show skin because I’m comfortable and am learning to love my body. I am not okay with slut shaming in general, but I am most definitely not okay with being called a slut either because I’m still a fucking virgin. So hun, I really do wish I could call myself a slut and have that much game, but I’m very far from that.

Anyways, uh more on my gender crisis: I’ve also always adored mens fashion and absolutely revel the aura of being the “alpha.” Ever since my middle school days, I’d secretly snoop around and envy the men’s section of Barney’s and Saks, because it just looks so damn cool. Excuse my lack of “high quality language,” I can hear my English teacher sighing about my lack of “professional” or “appropriate” language, but I really can’t express my feelings regarding mens fashion other than it’s fucking cool. I must say though, my style of clothing and expression of self doesn’t stop itself at mens fashion. In fact, I enjoy dressing to exhort a more dominant presence, whether it’s with a short denim skirt and tight crop top or a loose fitting silk blouse and skinny jeans with a belt. So I guess in a way, my fashion and what I feel comfortable in explains my gender for me. A little bit of both and a little bit of neither. Although the next step would definitely be playing around with my hair and piercing, but I think my traditional family would whoop my ass to the moon if I do it now, and I can’t say I’m not scared of regrets. I just want to discover myself a little more this year...

Regardless, I just wanna further clarify that I don’t feel comfortable being put as female, male or hell-- even androgynous.

And I gotta say, after holding this in and denying it for 4 years, it feels damn good to type it out and admit it.

In deciding to be a “gender”, there are standards. Deciding to be anything comes with the price of standards. I just can’t personally handle not being able to fit into the standards there are for them... Especially now since people are so bothered on being politically correct, so if I’m “not being properly androgynous” or “not properly female,” I’ll get shit on, and if I’m not accepted by the mass majority, I’ll feel societal hate mixed with self hatred.

I also want to say that sometimes I don’t feel like I have the right to be confused or declare a gender because I’ve been on the judgemental side before.

In middle school one of my close friends moved away, and soon later began to label themselves as gender fluid. It was such a new concept that I initially thought that they were doing it as a publicity stunt, but slowly realised that it is indeed who they are. I wasn’t hateful, but I can’t say I’m innocent, even if it was when I was far younger and less understanding. I remember when they first started using their current pronouns, I was confused on how to utilise them and initially disregarded them. Today, I regret my ignorance. Misgendering can always be a mistake, but it can also be extremely spoiled, belittling and condescending. So even though I know someone that probably went through a similar journey as I am today, I feel guilty asking them about it because of the shit I gave them when I was 14.

Additionally, I’m scared of being wrong about myself. I can’t describe it too well, but I’m just scared that I’ll slip up a wrong opinion and then be automatically thrown into the can of “special snowflake wannabe LGBTQ+” when in reality: I truly feel like I’m not of “cisgender” or anything normal. I don’t want to dip too deep into my history with crippling anxiety and experiences with depression, but I will say that I can’t help but to hate myself for being queer too.. Alas, I’ll have to learn how to get over that and continue loving myself, but what the hell am I going to do now? 2k words later and things aren’t exactly clearer, but I can (somewhat) confidently say that I know what I’ll do (for now.)

As of today, June 17, 2019, I have decided to not give a fuck and to simply just identify with the LGBTQ+ community. I don’t feel comfortable identifying as male, female, neither, both, gender fluid, or anything else. I will simply put off gender and let people call me by whatever pronoun they want.

I just wanna be me.

Until I find out something else, or become more comfortable with myself, or gather the confidence to “come out of the closet” and stop being so selfish and finally decide what the hell I am, it’ll probably just be like this for awhile.

And honestly? I think I’m okay with that.

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