#also now im always gonna be reminded of vee

[rsitb-second-account]

Borrower Intruloceit

Janus, Remus and Logan were (very happily) in a polyamorous relationship. However, to most of the world, Janus and Remus were just a couple. You see, Logan was a borrower; a tiny person that lives in the walls of human houses and steals from those humans in order to survive. And, he’s a secret. 

Here’s three close calls and the one time everyone found out about Logan.

1. The time Remus’ brother showed up unannounced

Logan was sitting on the arm of the couch, having a movie date with his boyfriends, when the door slammed open. He quickly gestured to Janus’ pocket, hoping he would understand. Luckily, he nodded and quickly scooped up the borrower and deposited him in the fairly large (to Logan at least) pocket.

“good evening, Roman. Is there a reason you showed up unannounced, or did you just want to ruin our date?” Janus spoke coldly

“oh- I- uh.. I didn’t know you two had a date tonight..” Roman rubbed his neck sheepishly

“us three” Logan corrected under his breath, shifting his position slightly. Unfortunately, Roman seemed to notice the movement from the pocket. 

“What’s in your pocket?” He asked hesitantly

Logan stilled and held his breath as Janus answered “why do you want to know?” 

Remus was staying silent, not trusting himself to not accidentally let something slip.

“I want to know beca-” he was cut off by Remus

“why are you here Roman?”

That quickly distracted the human “oh! I was just-” he explained why he was there, Logan still forcing himself to be still.

Once the dramatic man had left, the borrower let out an annoyed sigh “you really need to take away his key, so he can’t do this again. It is rather annoying to have to hide every two seconds that Roman shows up unexpectedly”

Remus giggled “and what would we tell him? ‘oh yeah our secret tiny boyfriend doesn’t like it when you burst in randomly so we’re gonna take your key’ I don’t think that would work very well, tiny nerd”

2. Janus’ brother shows up slightly less unannounced than Roman

Janus, Remus and Logan were watching random Youtube videos, with Logan sat on Remus’ shoulder. They heard the door open at the same time as Janus got a text message from his brother, Virgil

Was on a walk and saw your house. Am now in your house :)

Luckily, there was an entrance to the walls right next to where they were sat and Logan practically ran into it, the entrance closing just as Virgil entered the room.

“Virgil, do you have a reason to be here other than being an annoyance?” Janus raised an eyebrow at his younger sibling

“Nope!” Virgil replied with fake cheerfulness, before sitting cross-legged on the floor staring at the other humans. Remus just stared back, but with a slightly more eerie tone to his actions. 

Janus just sighed at his boyfriend and his brother. He had no doubt that Logan was watching with an annoyed face that he would deny ever making. Almost everything they tried to do together was interrupted by someone bursting in uninvited, and it was getting tiresome. He heard a faint noise from the walls and by the looks of it Virgil and Remus heard it too.

Logan had gotten into a fight with a (luckily non-venomous) spider, and had just killed it, when he tripped. The impact made him hiss with pain and, unfortunately, made a semi-loud sound on its own. “... what was that?” He heard Virgil ask

Janus and Remus looked at each other for a split second, before Janus shrugged and said that it was probably nothing

“Anyway, emo, if you’re scared and you didnt come here for a reason, you can leave” Remus said, slightly too bluntly.

Virgil, thankfully for Logan, did in fact leave. It was at exactly that moment that the borrower decided that Virgil was better (if only slightly) than Roman

3. The time with Patton

Logan was wandering around the house (its his house and he can do that now that the humans knew about him) when a knock at the door sounded. Suddenly really glad that he stayed near the walls on his walk, he rushed into the closest entrance. 

He knew that this would be Patton (he was the only person who ever bothered to knock) but he still couldn’t decide whether this particular human was as good as Virgil or not. He was better than Roman, not as loud (though still pretty loud), and not as keen on staying somewhere that he didn’t own. However, he wasn’t as quiet as Virgil, and had accidentally hurt his ears quite a few times, but at least he knocked instead of bursting in randomly with little to no warning.

He watched from a vent as Remus opened the door

“Heya Remus! Can i come in?” Patton greeted with obviously fake happiness and Logan could see a smile that seemed just a little too forced

“of course, do you want to sit down? I’ll go get Janus” Remus genuinely had no clue what to do, but Janus was slightly better at comforting people. Logan was better at it as well, because he’d bring up facts about why you’re good, but it wasn’t like Logan could comfort Patton..

Janus quickly rushed to the living room, where his best friend was obviously trying to hold back tears. 

Logan watched Patton rant about both everything and nothing at the same time, obviously just needing someone to talk to. As much as he hated to admit it, he was still annoyed at the interruption that had forced him into the walls. He couldn’t control what annoyed him, and that in itself was an annoyance. He wanted to sympathise with the human, but did he have to show up right as Logan was finally relaxing? He decided to just randomly do things on the phone his boyfriends had given him. It had been hard to drag to his house in the walls but it made it easier to not get bored and to contact the two humans

4. When everyone (finally) finds out

Logan had had enough. The three humans that didn’t live in the house had all shown up unexpectedly, together. Whilst Logan, Remus and Janus were trying to finally have uninterrupted time together. Of course that’s when they show up Logan thought bitterly. They had showed up for, as they put it, a ‘surprise sleepover’

He glanced at his phone leaning on the wall next to his bed and a thought popped into his head. The humans were bound to find out anyway, if they were to keep bursting in unexpectedly, so why not just tell them?

Logan unlocked his phone, opening Whatsapp and typing out a message

‘tel VIrgl patan and romun to stay were they are. im reveeling mysellf to them. im going throo the enterance on the bukshelf. see yoo soon’

He probably spelt most of it wrong, but he hadn’t exactly gotten taught spelling. All he was taught in regards to reading, was just barely enough to figure out what he was taking and if it was dangerous or not. And he was making a life-changing decision, so he thought that meant he could make as many spelling mistakes as he did, and play it off to nervousness.

Janus and Remus both looked at their phones and paled. What was Logan thinking?! It seemed that the other humans had noticed their uneasiness “what’s wrong? What’s on your phones that is making you react like this??” Virgil asked, worry lacing his tone

“Don’t worry, Vee. It’s nothing bad, it’s just.. unexpected. ...You’ll see, just stay there” Janus soothed his brother

“you two stay there as well” Remus added , getting up and walking towards the bookshelf, Janus soon joining him. They looked at where they knew the entrance was, waiting for it to open.

Roman piped up “uh, care to tell us what is going on?”

“we will, but not yet. We need to wait” 

“well, that was ominous..” Virgil commented, seeming slightly nervous

Then, the entrance opened and Logan walked out glaring softly at the shocked humans

“uh, Remus, what the fuck is that?!” Roman practically shouted, reminding Logan just why he was on the bottom of his list of favourites. 

“He is our boyfriend, and I expect you to treat him with respect” Janus said, his voice venomous. Remus held out a hand for Logan to climb onto, which the borrower did, still glaring at the other humans (mostly Roman). 

“Salutations. I am Logan, do not introduce yourselves, I already know who you are” He spoke before muttering an “unfortunately”

Remus, being the only person close enough to hear the mutter, let out a chuckle “Lo, if you revealed yourself just to complain about them to their faces, this will be hilarious”

The three humans were staring in shock, until Roman snapped out of it “Wait- why would he be complaining? I don’t know about those two, but I am positively amazing!” 

Logan scoffed “yeah, amazing. You’re too loud, burst in randomly, and it’s always for the stupidest reasons. You have hurt my ears far too many times to count, and almost every time me, Janus and Remus try to do something together, you show up, and I have to hide or go back to the walls. So, yeah, amazing” He spoke, voice dripping with sarcasm. 

He turned to the other two “you two aren’t as bad, but you still manage to show up at some of the worst possible times. Patton, you are quite loud, but not as loud as Roman, so that makes you slightly better. Also, you don’t burst in, and you knock so that’s something good. Virgil, you’re not as loud as these two, which is good, and you always send a text message when you show up, so I have at least a little bit of warning before going into the walls, so you’re both better than Roman” not that that’s saying much he added mentally.

-/\-/\-/\-/\-/\-/\-/\-/\-/\-/\-/\-/\-/\-/\-/\-/\-/\-/\-/\-/\-/\-/\-/\-/\-

I kinda wanna write a prequel about how Logan, Remus and Janus met..

Tag list: @icantthinkofacreativeurl @vann-cat @moonfrost-star-comics

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #sanders sides au #borrower au #sanders sides borrower #borrower logan #human patton #human roman #human virgil #human janus #human remus #g/t au #sanders sides g/t #intruloceit #i wrote this whilst very sick and dizzy so its probably not the best #Ash tries to write something

[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.

#my writing #my fics #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy smut #its currenty 1am #i have to be up for work in about 5 hours #this took longer to edit than i thought it would #(probably because its 22 effing words long lmao) #but here you go! #its done! #i think some of my formatting went a little janky when i was copying it into this post #but whateveri think its just added extra line breaks between paragraphs #so it should still be readable #anyway #im gonna pass out now #i'll see you tomorrow when i come to complain about work

[personafanfic]

Okay after reading your angsty Bitter Sweet goodbye, I need some fluffy Unus and Annus x reader content please. Like them just walking about on a normal day holding hands with reader in between them? Or cuddling on their shared bed or something 🥺

Haha awww of course Anon! Yeah it was kinda my trying to let go story, definitely didn’t work, so I need this as much as you 😂

So sorry this took a while! I ended up writing a bunch of stuff but decided I wanted it as a separate headcanon for them so there is like 4 Headcanons for Unus annus coming out eventually just from this 😂

Fluffy Unus Annus here you are 💕💕 I might do Unus Annus Fluff Alphabet soon but for now here is general highlight reels of the relationship 

Ahh Also I wasn't sure if you wanted a Drabble or a Scenario or Headcanons so I just did random fluffy relationship headcanons. I will hopefully get Request Rules out soon but this is what I did for now. IM SO SORRY IF THIS ISNT WHAT YOU MEANT

-Okay well I’m not sure if I made this clear or not but in my headcanins but this is a Vee relationship. Meaning you are involved with both romantically and sexually but not to each other. Like an open triangle or the letter V. 

-Theres always the little things in the relationship. You all appreciate and notice different things.

-They both loved how before each video they had to be in you would make sure their suit was perfect. That nothing was tucked in the sleeves weren't rolled and that their tie was perfect.

-They’ll always ‘fight’ for who goes last because that person gets the most time with you. You’ll pull their tie to make them come towards you at the end and it just makes there non existent hearts✨Flutter✨ like oh my god. 

-And when I say non existent I mean physically their hearts do not exist. Both of them have a heart of gold. They ACTUALLY melt, they will lean forward and just try to lean on you.

-The two are so creepy though without meaning to be. Like Coraline creepy tho. (Shoutout to Coraline for being my comfort movie)

-Like y’all could be cuddling and talking and all of the sudden you guys might be talking about death or endings, you know, the whole reason they’re there, and you’re not quite sure if you’re gonna stay cuddling or if your about to be ??murdered?? Like, you don’t feel as if your in danger AT ALL but like uhh “…You guys aren’t gonna kill me for your cult, are you??” “ITS NOT A CULT!”

-Annus is the king of doing shit for you but acting like he has NO idea what you're talking about and then refusing to look in your eyes for about a half an hour until you guilt him into looking in your eyes because like, he can't not look into your beautiful eyes

-Unus is the snuggle MASTER ahhhhhhhhHhHHhHHHHHHH. God he will cuddle you SO MUCH. Unless you ask him not to of course. But your warm body against his basically dead body, he is in loveeeeee.

-“I want kids.” “How about a sea monkeys and if you do good with that for a while, like three years, we will SEE about a goldfish.” “They…they only live for two years…” “Well you better figure it out if you want that goldfish.”

-You love talking about the future with them. They are a lil uhhh hesitant. On one hand you talking about the future makes them feel like a FUCKING GOD on the other how are you so sure there will be a future with them. 

-Not that they plan on leaving but like there is always a possibility no matter how diligent and careful your are. You know that, by why dwell on only possibilities plus it’s really funny to have Annus’ chaotic god like energy just disappear to your dreamlike fixation.

-Im sorry but can we talk about how if you guys are ever out in public, they will walk right behind you, next to each other, in sync. It looks like you have your own gang! If you were to just see them walking and you don’t talk to them they can be VERY intimidating. 

-One time you snapped your fingers and everyone around you looked on edge while they were just confuzzled. Why would you snap your fingers?? And then theres the man a few steps away from you three waiting a bit to see if he needs to call the authorities.

-They can't ALWAYS be here, even if they wanted to. They do have a reason to be there plus sometimes they need to rest so if they know they won't be around or able to contact you they’ll leave sticky notes around the house about the things they love about you, complements, inspirational quotes etc.

-There are so many ups and downs with these two but one thing is for sure. Being with them is so much fun and has had such a difference that you’re not even thinking of tomorrow but whats happening then and there.

✘✘✘✘✘✘✘✘✘✘✘✘✘

Request are Open

Masterlist

I hope you enjoyed

Just a reminder ANNUS IS NOT MARK AND UNUS IS NOT ETHAN they have their own physical form they can get whenever they want. It takes energy to do so, so they rest spiritually (AKA their non physical form and what they actually are) in the minds of their host (AKA Ethan and Mark) No one has actually gotten it confused it is just Very important to me that everyone understands this, if any questions just ask in the asks.

#unus annus fanfic #unus annus fanfiction #unus annus head canons #unus x reader x annus #unus annus x reader #unus annus #unus annus headcanons #Unus and Annus x reader

[littlebigafterdark]

patton's asthma attack and finally agreeing to try therapy

content warnings: hurt/comfort, detailed description of asthma attack, very brief mention of past eating disorder, crying (i always hav that tho)

i copy pasted this from mine and livs discord convo so thats why it might be formatted weird and i swear a lot also if you see "hhh yeah" then thats liv commenting hshshsh

patton has had a cough the past few days because BASICALY since priscilla (remys cat) visited hes been more breathless with his asthma but he didnt tell anyone bc he doesnt want to worry them or make it so vee never get to see priscilla again if she cant visit anymore

so his asthma is acting up but he ignores it - and hes had asthma cough for a couple days (which is a sign of an incoming asthma attack) but again hes ignoring it, hes so used to brushing off symptoms he doesnt click what it means and he diesn ttake his inhaler when he needs it

WAAAHH oh fuck oh my god oh god wait fuck i just realised

the moment patton gets his asthma attack its saturday afternoon, roman is little and playing with logan and vee isnt quite little yet but fae's on faer way there, fae is very giggly and playful and patton says "okay babygirl, lets go get you changed!"

and when he gets up from the couch he takes a moment to cough and just stand still a sec bc he got suddenly dizzy but he pushed through it to not worry vee, and he actually usually lifts her onto his hip straight away, but this time he very subtly is like "okay hold daddys hand while we walk to the stairs"

so they get to the stairs and patton of course lifts vee up, and theyre only a few steps up when pattons breathing gets really heavy. it makes vee frown and look at him and say "daddy am i heavy?"

and patton smiles and shakes his head, because hes too breathless to speak. but he pushes through and hurries up as fast as possible

once theyre at the top of the stairs, patton is wheezing. his chest is rattling and whistling and he suddenly loses his smile and quickly hurries away from the stairs to place vee gently on the hallway floor, and as soon as vee is safe patton wobbily sinks to his knees and leans his head against the wall. his eyes shut tight trying so so hard to breath but its realy whistly now

and vee of course panics. "dady? papa are you okay??" and whimpers when patton doesnt react and clutches at his chest

and it throws her out of her semi regression. she jumps up and hurries downstairs, a little wobbily but ultimately fine. and she speints to where logan and riman are and yells "daddys h havin a panic attack!" and instantly starts crying

logan and roman were in the middle of a game and smiling and laughing but as SOON as they hear that they jump into action. logan runs out of the room to go to patton and roman grows up and runs to vee and lifts her up to shush her cries and calm her down - they dont even share a single look before they do this, they both just instinctively know what to do

and logan of course finds patton and realises its an asthma attack not a panic attack - he goes into his emergency like emotionless mode where he just gets the job done. he asks clearly where patton keeps his inhaler and patton just shakes his head. so logan alarmed asks "you dont have a reliever inhaler??" and patton winces and shakes his head again.

logan sprints to his room into his bedside drawer to find tthe inhaler he keeps for emergencies double checking it hasnt expired

he sits with his legs around patton, patton leaned back agains his torso, and puffs pattons inhaler for him and times the attack and the puffs (knowing that if it isnt better after ten puffs and fifteen minutes they have to call an ambulance) and using his own deep breaths against pats back to help him recalibrate his breathing

luckily it only lasts 8 and a half minutes and 8 puffs - but logan is so so shaken about the fact that that was very close to requiring medical assistance, he had his ohone out ready to dial 911

once pattons attack is over he's finally breathing, short and deep at first gasping in the oxygen, but within a few more minutes of sitting against logan it slows down and is much calmer. hes very shaky because the reliever inhaler does that to you, and weak from the tax on his body, so logan helps him up into their nearest bedroom (pattons)

at first he calls roman to swap places with him and watch over patton hust so logan can change vee into a diaper since she regressed from fear as soon as roman picked her up and obv he cant change her diaper

so roman sits with patton while logan does that and roman is actually really quiet and awkward and nervous, just looking wide eyed at patton and hugging himself.

and patton feels bad abt that and whispers "its okay little prince, daddys not hurt. im sorry for scaring you, honey" and roman just chews his lip and nods and looks down and they dont talk again until logan is back and roman goes out to take care of vee and logan comes in to lie with patton and rub his chest soothingly

logan is distressed and frustrated and shaken at that point but he knows not to have their conversation until the next day bc patton will be emotionally and physically exhausted

but the next day they have a serious talk - logans pretty ANGRY that patton was so ignorant of his wellbeing that he didnt refill his inhaler, patton brushes it off but logan says its a good thing he secretly kept one for patton (bc he almost suspected this might happen)

it rly hits patton when logan tells him if he had needed anymore puffs than he took they wouldve had to phone an ambulance - like patton not wanting to worry his family by admitting his asthma was acting up backfired way more and has made them worry even more because he had a full attack that could have gone so much worse

the whole conversation is VERY stern and serious even at the start when patton smiles and chuckles and jokes and brushes it off logan just gets frustrated and upset. logan is SO angry literally he is glaring at patton when patton brushes it off and makes jokes abt it and he snaps.

logan actually very seriously tells patton this is self harm and patton goes WHAT nonono no its not i dont know why youre getting so worked up

and logan fucking SNAPS like "Youre not giving your body what it needs to survive because you dont think your worth that!! you're neglecting your basic needs to the point of needing urgent medical care, doesnt that sound familiar??? doesnt that sound like something we've both been through before???" clearly referencing his eating disorder

and pattons eyes go wide and he profusely apologises hes like im so sorry oh my gosh logan honey im sorry did i trigger you im sorry and logans just like STOP APOLOGISING this isnt about me its about you!

and he sso angry bc he thought they trusted each other but the fact that patton didnt tell him when he literally couldnt breathe is so scary to logan

but that is basically an argument bc logan was so fucking worried and devastated that patton has ignored his health to such an extent and vee gets nervous bc both her and roman can hear them yelling and she thinks the cgs will breakup bc they "had a fight"

but once theyre finished talking and vee shakily asks if theyre not gonna be a family anymore they'll of course comfort faer and talk abt it, its not a fight its a disagreement and mummys and daddys have those sometimes. theyre still a family and they still love each other very very much. they all soend their family day together as usual, though patton isnt as able to get up and play with roman understandably

also the fact this all comes around the same week patton and logan tell vee that janus wants to babysit, thats why patton has been absent from the blog recently i guess bc hes been keeping busy trying to work through his feelings of janus wanting to come in

hhh yeah... the way it lines up to patton's other insecurities abt janus coming into the family and it all just piles on too much all at once

so on monday morning logan goes with patton to get more inhalers and they actually stay out for while like they go to a forest or smth just to be alone and help patton recenter a little - he's always loved being in nature, it really brings him a lot of peace, being in nature is really the best way to keep patton grounded from his dissociation, thats why hes always gardening

and logan doesnt want to be angry at him and he knows patton needs support and comfort atm even is patton doesnt think he does so they have a calm day just being together and logan trying to remind patton that hes there for him

HHH stop bc they YEAH bc they kinda had a fight even though it did get 'resolved' but they needed to take time to reconnect their energies and like show each other (and specifically logan show patton) that their love is still secure and their friendship is still strong - just the quiet care of logan taking patton somewhere they can just be alone without responsibilities

secretly patton was rlly upset that logan got angry with him but he didnt show it but logan KNOWS him and he knows he needs to fix it with queality time (pats love lang) because pattons been alone a lot recently, its just been that he keeps busy and accidentaly distanced himself bc the others would all be busy and hanging out in some way and he fet a bit abandoned but yeah logan is dedicating the whole day to him

and patton does end up talking abt his inner turmoil a little but not until theyre like in the middle of the forest and hes a lot calmer and theres no one around, he just feels so much calmer and safer in nature to open up like that.

and this is when patton tells logan about his worries about janus becoming closer to vee, and how its lovely for them but what if it hurts vee, what if they dont get along, what if they DO get along and vee wants to move back with janus. Logan doesnt say anything to the worries, he knows patton just needs to blurt them out while he can, while it mixes with the sounds of nature.

then patton mentions quietly that dr picani phoned him a couple weeks ago and told him that he would like to offer patton a trial session of therapy - not with vee, just patton. logan very calmly asks if that sounds like sometnging that might be helpful for patton and patton just giggles nervously "um i dont know. Vee has therapy"

logan frowns. "yes she does. but that doesnt mean you cant have it too, if you would like it"

patton goes quiet and looks anxious, scratching at the moss on the log theyve sat down on. so logan takes his hand and looks very earnestly at him and says gently "i would like you to at least accept the trial session. It is your decision but... i think it might be worth a try"

patton nods a little, just looking at their intertwined fingers. and after a long silence where they can just hear the birds tweeting and the wind rustling the leaves and small animals scurrying along the grass, patton finally looks up at logan and breathes "i'll go to therapy"

and when patton says that out loud suddenly his eyes well up and he sees logan smile at him - a little sad and a lot proud - and feels his hand squeeze and the tears just dont stop coming and he hides his eyes but laughs nervously like haha dont know why im crying this is so silly! but logan doesnt say anything to it, he just pulls patton into his side and rests his head on pattons head...

and patton keeps trying to laugh and joke but its so choked and sad and nervous and wet and logan wraps his other arm around patton too and just grntly whispers "pumpkin, its okay if youre not happy right now."

and patton just starts sobbing into logans shoulder and logan holds him so tight as they sit on the log

patton cant cope with silence when its about him yknow, he couldnt handle logan not laughing or tutting at his jokes so he just kept joking until logan insisted its ok to be sad

so once they get home logan sits with pstton while he phones dr picani and books his first solo therapy session for friday morning

#papa patton #asthma attack tw #do not reblog #little big after dark concepts

[ghoulangerlee]

Hi!! For the soulmates au thing i think killems w 29 would be cute bc BLUE or maybe malex w 50 ((cause it reminds me of the handprints!)) i love your writing

I wrote the malex one but im also gonna write the killems one bc IDEAS

But in honor of ME getting engaged just the other day, I wrote....This!

you have your soulmates fingerprints somewhere on your body ; malex

*I took some liberties such as, the fingerprints don't have to be whole, nor do there have to be five, and you don't realize who your soulmate is until they're touched just right

----

All things considered, Alex supposes he was lucky his soulmark wasn't as large as Liz's, or even Maria's (five fingerprints, stretched out naturally as if someone was resting their hand just below her collarbone for Liz and four on the front of Maria's arm, as if her soulmate had grabbed her to stop her from walking away). 

The half of a thumbprint above the knuckle of his ring finger on his left hand and the quarter of a fingerprint on the underside. Something easy to cover on the days that made him sick just looking at it. 

"It's romantic," Liz had said, examining the prints, "Obviously someone's going to love you very much at some point in the future." 

Alex had laughed and diverted the attention from his own unfinished mark to something else, and while Liz looked like she wanted to keep going, she stopped and accepted his change of subject. 

And then, he met Michae Guerinl. 

Michael who made everything feel new and fresh, who didn't have a soulmark (even hidden under his clothes, the first time they'd made love, he'd checked thoroughly, learning everything he could about Michael's body). 

It didn't bother him, and Alex's unfinished mark didn't bother Michael, Michael who'd just press a kiss to it when they were sitting in the back of his truck watching the stars as he rubbed warmth back into his cold hands. 

In a way, Alex felt complete, even though he knew Michael wasn't his, it was fine, because they had this and Alex was content. 

Until Jesse Manes happened. 

And suddenly, Alex knew he needed to get away, even though he wanted to stay, to be with Michael, he couldn't. 

He couldn't protect him. Not like this. Not with a broken soulmark, not with the emotional attachment, the pain he felt every time he closed his eyes and Michael's face painted in agony flashed before his eyes. 

So he left, joined the Air Force and bottled up the resentful feelings when Michael never came to see him off. (It was fair, he was leaving and Michael didn't have to put himself through even more pain and heartbreak.) 

Ten years pass like sand and by the time he steps back onto Roswell, he hopes Michael isn't there anymore. 

Hopes he's found himself somewhere out in Santa Fe or anywhere other than here. 

Except he hasn't, and suddenly Alex feels seventeen again. 

He calls him Guerin again, tries to keep his distance, tries everything he can to not give into the pull of him—except, he can't and he rotates closer to him, always pulled into his orbit, falling back into what they had when they were seventeen. 

Except they're not seventeen anymore and Alex can't do that and even if Michael accuses him of walking away, of not loving him, he won't break, because he can't let his dad get Michael or Max or Isobel because now that he knows, knows his family's legacy, he can't stand by and watch his dad, his brother destroy anymore. 

(Finding out that Michael was an alien shed light on him not having a soulmark, because neither did Isobel or Max. Soulmates existed for them, just not in the same way as humans.) 

There's a period that Alex doesn't like to think about, where Maria and Michael dated, where he had gone to Forrest who was nice but never gave him the feeling of being complete that Michael did, and while he tried to love Forrest, he knew he couldn't. 

Their breakup was amicable, and shortly after, Forrest found his soulmate, someone who'd left the five perfect fingerprints around his upper arm, and Alex was happy for him. 

Life went back to a sort of normal after that until one day Michael invited him to the Crashdown, called it a date and Alex felt hope again, felt something bloom in his chest when he saw Michael, sitting nervously in a booth, waiting for him. 

The feeling of being complete had come back, settled into his chest, snug against his heart and Alex rode on that feeling, ignored every voice in his head telling him not to get too close—Project Shepard would always be around, but Alex knew he could protect Michael, they could protect each other. 

If Michael could still love him after the shed, after leaving him behind for war, after what his ancestors had orchestrated against his people, then, broken soulmark or no, nothing could stop them, not even the possibility of not being soulmates. 

Life though, has a way of taking you by surprise, and one day, six months into their new relationship, Michael proposes, drops down onto one knee and pulls out a ring, his curls wild around his face and eyes shining. 

His chest feels tight and he's barely able to get the words out as he accepts, as he pulls Michael up and into a kiss, right in the middle of the Pony, around all of their friends, their family. 

(And when Michael slips the ring onto his finger, he sucks in a startled breath, a rush of adrenaline spiking his system as Michael's thumb fits perfectly against the half thumbprint on his finger. 

And beneath the open vee of Michael's shirt, Alex watches as an array of color blooms across his skin, a shimmery partial thumbprint peeking out through the buttonhole of his shirt. 

"Michael," he whispers, staring into the eyes of the man he's loved for over ten years, feeling an unknown emotion well in his chest just beneath his ribs, but it's pleasant and light and makes him feel jittery. 

"I know darlin'," Michael whispers as he cups his face with his free hand and pulls him into a kiss, sweet and slow and all encompassing.) 

#malex #sorry its long im on mobile its 1 am ans ill add a read more tokorrow #my writing #ask replies

[felinehypocritical]

Feel free to ignore if you don't ship these two or if it's not specific enough but Ben/Bev post-book HCs?

okk!! ill try my best. and dw i love benverly im a huuuuge multishipper… ill write anything besides like eddie and richie w girls!

(and guys heres ur daily reminder i have an ao3 and share most of my fics on there! im slowly and sporadically copying all my longer, more prosey writing onto there for all to see so itd be a big help and an easier way to view my fics if you went on there!! im also not only a shipping pair writer. i also write friendships, enmity, any dynamic and type of story. fluff and angst, ill do any of it besides nsfw. feel free to request anything! but keep in mind, im in school and i have a very intensive workload because i take all honors classes possible, so i will not be working on fics as often as i will headcanons. you will have better luck with headcanons, yall!)

-okay so bev and ben share their first kiss in the front seat of ben’s newly-bought red convertible cadillac. ben’s driving, slow and easy, and beverly just leans over and kisses him on the cheek. ben smiles into it, before he shifts so that beverly leans in front of him and presses a kiss onto his lips, her hair grazing his lap as she twists her head. ben barely manages to pull over he’s shaking so badly, and they both look at eachother in surprise and shock, before lapsing into crazy laughter.

they’d survived.

-they stay in many hotel rooms as the road trip their way to california. they’ve agreed to meet richie there, though neither can quite remember why; were they old friends in high school? college buddies? ben and richie were boy scouts together? or was that stanley?

-in every hotel room, one thing is the same- ben runs his hands through beverly’s long, thick red hair, and he breathes a sigh of relief that he’ll never fully get out of his system. she’ll always be laying on his stomach, and she’ll ask something like, “do you feel like we’re missing something?” and ben mumbles back, “i don’t feel like i’m missing anything when i’m here.” and here doesn’t really mean much- here just means where beverly is. here always meant where beverly is.

and yes, he does feel like he’s missing something.

-ben can hardly bear to look at himself sometimes; being with beverly reminds him of childhood, and childhood was ugly, childhood was hard, childhood was fat. he was fat. and he’ll look in the mirror with beverly next to him and he’ll see how he used to be when he was fifteen, and he feels like he’s about to throw up. he gets lightheaded, and it reminds him of all the runs he took, the runs he still takes. but beverly knows, she always can sense it, and she’ll murmur in his ear and trace over his many stretch marks and scars and all the loose skin- because no one told ben about that when they told him about getting thin, you still have so much extra skin on you that it still feels like you’re fat; he supposes that’s why it’s called a tummy tuck. but bev skims her hands over it and all over his back, because god, even his back was fat, and she’ll sometimes go other places that he can’t even think of without getting lightheaded, and she’ll smile and her eyes gleam like her anklet used to, and ben feels himself snap back to this reality.

-ben’s asked her about that anklet before. on the way out of bangor, actually, he caught a glimpse of her gold earrings, and he asked shyly, “what happened to your anklet?” and beverly looked at him curiously, before her eyes cleared and she laughed and leaned back. “i hardly even remember that thing, ben,” she said. “well, i gave it to my mother before i got married, i think, in a box of old stuff that tom insisted i get rid of. he hated that thing.” she took a drag from her cigarette. “i loved it,” ben offered. “it was one of the first things i noticed about you.” “and what was the very first?” beverly asked. ben smiled wistfully. “your hair,” he offered instantly, “and the way it lit up every corner of your desk when it draped over it and the sun went through it.” beverly smiled and hit his arm, and they drove on.

-”what was the first thing you thought about me?” ben asked quietly one night while beverly lay across his chest in their newly-owned bed, playing with his sleeve. “i thought, ‘my god, those boys are gonna eat him alive’,” beverly said after a thought. “and you?” he smiled again, this time almost too wide for his face and he remembered.

“beverly marsh, the first thing i thought when i saw you was that i had finally prayed enough and god had brought an angel to earth for me.”

he hummed the first lines of earth angel, until beverly’s smooth, honey-coated voice rose above his quiet rhythm and they began a duet in their beautiful penthouse apartment.

-they listen to all too much fifties doo-wop: the skyliners, bobby vee and bobby darin, the del-vikings, the crew cuts, the penguins, the drifters, the moonglows,  all the hits. beverly knows every appropriate dance move, and ben knows every line.

-beverly even finds an old poodle skirt, and four or five petticoats, at a vintage emporium. she can just squeeze into them, and she does, just for ben. he practically has steam coming out of his ears he’s so red, just the image of beverly in a sock hop outfit just for him coming true before his eyes enough for him to feel flustered.

-they never end up meeting with richie. he’s too busy and they’re too busy (though not really), and they never see him again. they talk to him on the phone a lot, though, and hear him on their radio, and sometimes they’ll turn it on to hear richie’s voice saying “now, this ain’t the oldies station, but i’d like to play a song for you from my childhood that a friend of mine, uh, really liked for his sweetheart. i hope you all don’t mind too much.” and there, sure and sugar, are the opening lines to earth angel:

“earth angel, earth angelwill you be minemy darling dear,love you all the time,i’m such a foola fool in love with you…”

and beverly marsh and ben hanscom can dance again.

#it #stephen king's it #stanny.txt #beverly marsh #ben hanscom #bfajd;bnksjgdl THERE U GO!!!!!!!

[illfoandillfie]

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

5 SIMPLE RULES MASTERLIST

Pairing: Ben Hardy x Reader

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

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

Words: 8093

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#my writing #my fics #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy imagine #i'm fully ready to cop some shit for this one lmao

[illfoandillfie]

Quiet In The Library 3

SERIES MASTERLIST

Request: Pretty please can you do a quiet in the library part 3 ?? 😁your writing is Top Notch I looovve the way you write roger! Congrats on 1000 followers you deserve them all!!! 💕💕 

Please can u write more about quiet in the library ? This is so fucking good I’m super fan 🥺 maybe reader can be a little cocky for once like teasing him at a show or something then Roger get his revenge visiting her again 🥰 if you don’t feel it that alright, I love ur writing anyway !!! (Probably one of the best at writing smut especially) 

Pairing: 70s!Roger Taylor x Reader

Warnings: SMUT (18+), dom!Rog, sub!Reader, public sex, library sex, spanking, unprotected sex, 

Words: 2777

A/N: Written as part of my 1000 follower celebration, I got 2 requests for this one! I’ve been meaning to do a QITL 3 for a while and actually planned to have dom!reader in it but that was before I felt comfortable writing dom!reader and I kept putting it off so maybe I’ll write a QITL 4 at some point 🤷‍♀️

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When Roger called and invited you to watch him play you were excited for two reasons. Number one, you genuinely enjoyed the music and watching the boys play was always a good time, especially now they’d found a slightly larger audience to play for. And, number two, you felt like you could get a little payback. You’d spent weeks of work unable to think of anything but the ways Roger had used you among the non-fiction shelves. There was a small stain on the carpet in the back row, a lingering souvenir from Roger’s last visit, and every time you saw it you were hit by a flurry of memories and the sudden need to get off. It was only fair for you to give him a taste of his own medicine and after all, this was essentially Roger’s workplace, unconventional is it was. So, with that in mind, you got ready in an outfit that could only be described as the complete opposite of your workwear. There was no room for knee length skirts or smart ponytails. Instead you opted for a short skirt and a plunging neckline. You let your hair down and did your makeup, anything to make Roger hot under the collar. 

They were still setting up when you arrived and headed backstage, but you caught Roger’s eye and blew him a kiss.   “Well look at you. Very different to last time I saw you,” he said as he came over and hugged you in greeting.   “Yes well, that’s what you get for visiting me at work. I told you that was the least sexy outfit I owned.”  “And what does that make this outfit?”  “Well I thought it was definitely one of my sexier options, wouldn’t you say?” you twirled a strand of hair around your finger as you spoke.  “I might go so far as to call it slutty.”  “Bit rude –”  “I said might!”  “But not completely incorrect.”  At that moment Brian walked over, “Rog c’mon we’re- oh Y/N! Hi,”  “Hey Bri,” you gave him a quick hug too, hoping Roger was looking at your short skirt riding up as you pushed yourself onto tiptoes.  “We were just discussing Y/N’s outfit. Seems out sweet little librarian is in the mood to pick up,”  “Thanks Bri for telling him about my job, by the way, so glad he knows now.”  Brian rubbed his neck sheepishly, “Sorry. I was drunk and it slipped out.”  “How’d you even find out? I never told anyone,”  “Saw you there a few months ago. Kept meaning to ask you about it but it always slipped my mind.”  “Yeah well, this one,” you jerked your thumb at Roger, “has been a right shit about it,”  “You love it,” Roger said with a grin, “anyway Bri, what’d you want?”  “Oh shit, yeah. We’ve gotta go get ready. Are you gonna be here after the show?”  “Course she will be. Unless she finds some poor bloke to take home,”  “I’ll be here, front row the whole time. Wouldn’t miss your show for the best lay in the world.”  “That’s cause the best lay’s up there playing,” Roger winked at you and then he and Brian disappeared behind a door leaving you to head out to the crowd and take your spot up front.  

It was useless to try and get Roger’s attention while he played. Between sitting at the back of the stage, his shithouse eyesight, and his complete focus on playing, there was no chance in hell he’d even be able to see you let. Instead you got yourself a drink and settled in to watch the show, chatting occasionally to a excited girl beside you. She’d snuck out for the night just to see them and maybe try to hit on Roger.  You looked her up and down, “Roger is very cute. Shame really,”  “What’s a shame?  “You haven’t heard? Roger’s already got a girlfriend. Hopelessly devoted to her apparently,” you sighed for dramatic effect, “I heard he’s been looking at rings and everything. Shame the rest of us can’t have a shot with him, but at least the other three are still single.”  “Oh,” she looked disappointed but you saw her eyes flick from John to Freddie to Brian and back again as if she were comparing her options, “Thanks for the heads up.” She turned back to the stage, her eyes now glued to the bassist. That was your competition taken care of, although there was bound to be more of them out there. 

As soon as the music stopped you made your way backstage again and latched onto Roger’s arm. For the rest of the night you were basically glued to him, making it very obvious you wanted him. You even went so far as to sit on his lap at one point, intentionally wriggling your arse against his crotch in an attempt to make him hard.  “Thought you wanted to score tonight?” he asked you while the others were distracted, “why’re you hanging round here?”  “Maybe I want something specific, something I don’t think just anyone could give me,”  “Alright love, I know what you’re doing,”  “Other than trying to get you alone?”  “This is a shitty attempt at payback, isn’t it?”  “I don’t know what you mean,” you hoped you didn’t sound too obvious.  “You made it so obvious,” he laughed.  “All I’m trying to do is get laid Rog. I have a late start tomorrow cause I’m on locking up duty and I thought I might have some fun,”  “You think you’re being clever but I’m on to you,”  “Ugh fine. I should have just let that slut from the crowd have you,”  “What slut?”  You waved your hand like you were shooing away a fly, “Just this chick I got talking to. She came here wanting to fuck you but I convinced her to go after Deaky instead. Told her you already had a girl.”  “Are you kidding?”  “Nope,” you laughed, “might have also told her you were looking to propose to your girlfriend.”  “Y/N! Christ you’re going to ruin my chances with every girl that comes to our shows. If that rumour spreads I swear to god.”  “Oh it’ll be fine. There’ll be plenty who don’t care how married you are.”  “Thats not the point! God you’re really in for it now.”  You rolled your eyes and stood up, “Well, I guess I’m gonna go home then since you’ve ruined my fun. I’ll see you next time, say bye to the others for me.” 

The next day work went without a hitch. There was no sign of Roger at all, although you were so busy all day he completely slipped your mind. It wasn’t until you were getting ready to lock up that you remembered his promise to get back at you. You moved to flip the sign on the door to CLOSED and managed to reach it just as Roger pushed it open.  “We’re closed Rog,”  “You talking the library or your legs?” he said as he barged inside.  You stepped out of his way, shutting the door behind him. As soon as you turned away from the door he had you pushed up against the wall, one hand beside your head so he was leaning into your personal space.  “Told you I was going to come back,”  “You did,”  “Was that what you were trying to get last night? Missed being a dirty slut for me and decided to get all dressed up to remind me you’ve got a cunt with my name on it?”  “No, I got all dressed up to try and fuck you in your workplace,”  “Didn’t turn out that way though.”  he dropped his other hand towards your thigh, “lift it up for me.”  Without thinking you grabbed your skirt and pulled it up.  Roger laughed, “I swear you get easier every time I come here. Undo those buttons I wanna see your tits.”  His fingers landed on your pussy and you hurried to do as he asked, letting your skirt fall over his wrist as you pulled each button loose until your shirt was open to your midriff, the bottom of it still tucked into your skirt.  “Good girl,” he said softly, moving both hands to your chest, pushing your shirt aside and teasing your nipples, “but being a slut for me now isn’t going to change last night. You need a lesson in who’s in charge here. Bend over your desk.”  You whined as he tugged your nipples before letting you go and pushing you towards your desk.  

You placed your palms flat on the desk, bent at the waist, and waited.  “No. Down,” he pressed on your back until you buckled, your chest pressed against the smooth surface as your moved your arms to hold onto the opposite edge. There was a rustle of fabric as Roger pushed your skirt up again, exposing your arse to the room.  “You’re already wet,” he didn’t sound surprised. He didn’t touch you, either. It was what you wanted most, just a light touch on your hip even, but he refused, instead running his fingers along the edge of the desk. Over the pamphlets about the Dewey Decimal System, tapping lightly against the jar your pens were standing in, until he came to rest on a book left there earlier. You weren’t sure what it was but it seemed to interest Roger. He picked it up, flipped through a few pages, examined the hard cover, tested how well he could hold it in one hand.   “Keep count,” was the only warning you got before he brought the book down against your arse.  “Shit, one,”  “Speak up. You’re closed remember, no one around to hear you except me.”  “Two,”  “Who’s in charge here?”  “You are Sir. Three,”  He kept spanking you with the book and you kept counting, the sting only getting worse with each one. You hissed through your teeth at a particularly hard smack, trying to remember which number you were up to when you heard a noise outside. A woman’s heels clicking against the concrete pavement.  “I thought you were closed,” Roger said softly, dropping his raised arm, the book falling to cover the bulge in his jeans.  “We are. Fuck Rog, hide,” you stood and tugged your shirt back into place, though there was no hope of getting all the buttons done up. Roger straightened the back of your skirt just as the door was pushed open and a woman wearing the same uniform as you stepped inside.  “Y/N, you’re still here?”  “Just finishing locking up, Kathy, what are you doing back?”  “Oh I just finished the groceries and realised I left my book here,”  “You mean this one?” you took the book from Roger, stepping in front of him in the hopes Kathy wouldn’t notice his dilemma, “I wondered who it belonged to. Lucky I didn’t chuck it in with the rest of the returns,”  “Y/N, who’s this?”  “I’m Roger,” he said sticking out his hand from behind you. You could have hit him as you tried to remember which hand he’d used to touch your pussy.   “He’s a friend of mine.”  “Was in the area and thought I’d off Y/N a lift home since it’s already dark out.”  “Well that’s nice of you,” Kathy’s eyes flicked from your unbuttoned and ruffled shirt to Roger, half standing behind you, to you flushed cheeks to the book she was holding, “At work Y/N? Kinky. Just don’t leave any stains or anything.”  “I don’t know what you mean Kathy,”  “Mmhmm, you can explain it to me tomorrow then, I’ll leave you to it.” She left with a last look at Roger and a chuckle.  

As soon as the door was shut behind her you turned around and slapped Roger’s shoulder, “you knob! Louder there's no one to hear but me,” your shitty imitation of his voice made Roger laugh, “almost got caught with my arse out.”  “Well at least you still had knickers on.”  “Gee thanks. Kathy totally knew what was going on though, and now she’s going to badger me for details and I’m going to have to make her swear not to tell anyone.”  “Geeze you’re secretive. So what if she knows?”  “So what? I don’t want my co-workers to know about my sex life thanks. Especially not about us having sex here. I hope your happy,”  “Not really. In case you didn’t realise I’ve got this boner that needs taking care of.”  “Even after nearly getting caught?”  “Love, nearly getting caught only made it harder.”  “Jesus,”  Roger laughed, “oh c’mon, don’t act like you weren’t turned on by it too. Remember when you gave me head and the person was on the other side of the shelves?”  “Vividly,”  “I bet you do. I bet you think about it while you finger yourself. Maybe think about that person coming round the shelf and watching while I fucked your throat,” he backed you up against the desk as he spoke, the edge of it pressing into your arse as he pressed his hard-on into your thigh.  You whimpered, unable to resist his demanding tone.   “You want me to fuck you?”  “Please,”  “Hop up on the desk for me. Gonna fuck you right here where you sit every day. Where your co-workers sit Where your boss sits.” His hands were on your waist as you wriggled back onto the desk, “I know how blushy and wet you get from being in the back rows where I’ve used you before. But those places are too easy to avoid. I want you to think about what I do to you from the moment you get to work to the moment you leave. I want my cock to be on your mind constantly. I want to be able to walk in here and know that you’re already wet for me.” Once more he pushed your skirt up, exposing you completely when he impatiently tugged your underwear off, “I want you to sit down in the morning and remember how good it feels,” he quickly undid his fly and pushed his pants down, “to be full,” he dragged his cock along your folds making your breath hitch, “of me.”  You let out a squeaky, “oh!” as he entered you, one hand slipping behind your back to hold you up as his other grabbed your leg. You wrapped your arms around his neck and hooked your ankle around him as best you could when he pulled back and sank into you again.   “Fuck,” you whined as he thrust into you again.  “Louder.”  You shook you head, trying not to moan.  “C’mon, I know you want to. It’s your one chance to be loud here, not going to waste it are you?”  “Rog,”  “Louder. Want you loud enough to draw a fucking crowd.”  You gave in, moaning wantonly as he fucked you harder.  “That’s it, let everyone hear what a whore you are,” he was panting, “rub your clit.”  Your breath hitched as you followed his direction and found your clit, circling it with your thumb. You could feel the pressure building, only strengthened as Roger leaned into your neck and began sucking at your skin. A string of moans and whined expletives tumbled from your lips and you weren’t sure you’d have been able to turn the volume down even if Roger had demanded it. All you could do was cry out as you hit your release. Roger continued to pound into you, half to keep your high going and half to reach his own. Even as your orgasm subsided, leaving you with a few lingering aftershocks and a heightened sensitivity, he kept going, his breath coming in rough pants. It took you whining his name for him to finally cum, biting down on your throat. 

“Jesus Rog,” you said softly when he finally let you hop off the desk, “what are you, a fucking vampire?”  “God could you imagine how hot I’d be?”  “Alright Dracula, calm down. Can you hand me those tissues over there?”  “How come?”  “So I can clean up the mess we’ve made,” you pointed at the desk where a small puddle of evidence remained.  “What do you have to do before you’re finished closing up?”  “Umm, make sure the windows are shut and back room is locked. Then I’ve just gotta get the lights and lock the front door. Tissues?” you impatiently stuck out your hand.  “You don’t need tissues because you’re going to lick it up like a good little slut. And then, if you’re lucky, I’ll take you back to mine and make you beg for more.” 

#my writing #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor smut #roger taylor imagine #this is a bit of a throwback!! #QITL was like the second fic i ever wrote i think #not much has changed tho #i still want 70s rog to top the shit out of me #1000 follower celebration