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heliads · 2 years

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Damaged Goods (Part Two)

Based on this request: “Please could you write a part 2 to Damaged Goods where the reader heals Warren’s wings back to his original ones?”

part one / masterlist

It doesn’t sink in for a long time after that, what just happened. Warren is not dead, and Y/N looks so alive that he almost thinks she’s glowing, although that could just be the beaming smile on her face. She extends a hand to help him up from the ground, and he doesn’t let go, not even when they’re back on board the Quinjet and the danger is gone. Warren could hold on to her forever, he thinks, but the time eventually comes when he has to unlock his fingers from hers, although his hands ache for her almost instantly.

As it turns out, they’ve got a lot of explaining to do. Xavier drags them to his office immediately, wanting to know just how Y/N got her powers back, and if this is something they could study in the future. Warren notices how keen he is to avoid the fact that Warren nearly died, a death that would have been on the Professor’s hands had it not been for the miracle of Y/N’s mutation returning in full force. But blessings are always easier to accept than blame, and Xavier keeps on celebrating when he can.

To be fair, Warren can’t really believe it either. He’s known Y/N for a while now, and she’s been living without most of her mutation for even longer. There was never a chance that she would be able to reclaim something like that, yet she did. When he asks her how, what it felt like, she just shakes her head, wordless until a rough explanation falls into place.

It was like falling, she said, falling so far down that she didn’t think she would be able to come back. Just before she hit the ground, she let herself hope that the impact wouldn’t happen, and it didn’t. Warren can tell that the simile is the best description she can give; whenever Y/N starts thinking about that fight, she remembers what it had been like to hold his hand as he died. In a sick sort of way, Warren is almost happy that it happened to him and not her. For one thing, he wouldn’t have been able to heal her, but for another, he’s not sure he would have been able to take it.

She’s better now, though. They both are. Warren catches her in the medical wing time and time again, healing everything from broken bones to splinters with a grin brighter than the sun. If he didn’t know better, he’d say that she’d hurt herself just to heal it all over again, slice open her own palm to reknit it seconds later. Does he know better, though?

Sometimes, when Y/N thinks she isn’t looking, Warren stumbles upon her walking a little too carelessly down the sweeping staircases of Xavier’s school, as if hoping her ankle would break so she could fix it. The pain will be there, but only for a second. Y/N always denies that she would do something like that, but Warren hears the undertone of her voice. She’s so happy to have herself back that she’d chase that high every time, even at the cost of her own limbs.

She’s not the only one. As Warren watches her, feeling by extension the rush of adrenaline that comes with using your mutation, he can’t help but sink back into the shadows. She is no longer broken, her pieces are fused back together into one bright symphony. What of him, though? Warren has had time to accept his wings, the metal claws and hooks and feathers that unfurl from his back. Certainly, he loves himself the most when he sees himself through Y/N’s eyes.

Yet it’s not enough. A little voice begins to whisper things in his head, mentioning that he could be himself again, just like her. All it would take is a fresh start, and he’d be perfect. Doesn’t he want that? Warren tries to silence the whispers, pushing the voice down and away. He’s made his peace with himself. He no longer blames himself for Apocalypse’s ruin, or the deaths that followed. None of that is his fault, and he has been made whole again, not by any ancient god’s magic, but through his own grit and hope.

That’s where his story is supposed to end, Warren thinks. He had his happily ever after when he woke up, Y/N leaning over him with her mutation back. He survived death a few times over now, both on the plane and from that mission. He’s done hiding, a boy in the shadows no longer. Warren is content, or he should be.

But he’s not. At last, he can hide from it no longer. Warren wants his wings back, the ones he had before, all feather and muscle and bone. No metal, no monstrosities. You can’t have damaged goods if you are brought back to what you once were. He’ll take better care of himself this time, Warren swears it. All he needs is one more chance.

Y/N looks surprised at first, when he first brings it up. He can see the denial on her lips before she manages to push it away. Warren had thought the same at first, when the realization that he could have his natural wings instead of metal ones first crested his mind. He had hated it at first, without even knowing why. It was like by taking away all evidence of what had been done to him, Warren wouldn’t be the same anymore, like he was giving up on all he had been through.

It isn’t like that, though, and Warren has had plenty of time to come to terms with it. It’s been a few months since Y/N got her powers back now, and he’s debated the issue hotly in his own head almost since then. Warren doesn’t need the metal wings to prove himself worthy of a better future, he carries the scars in his head wherever he goes. The shining steel feathers are not an excuse, or a shield to hide behind, but something he can retire at last to the recesses of his mind.

Y/N brings up these concerns one by one. Would it be cheating, to change himself so easily? Wasn’t that what he’d hated about Apocalypse, how the god had twisted Warren into something that wasn’t him anymore? The metal wings were him now, could Warren ever truly get rid of them? He answers all of her questions calmly, and he sees her understand at last.

Finally, she nods. “Okay.”

Warren’s heart leaps in his chest. “You’ll do it, then?”

Y/N lifts a shoulder, eyeing his wings hesitantly. “I’ll try, but I don’t know if I can. I mean, healing scrapes and broken bruises is one thing. I don’t even know how to start with this. Do I remove the metal first? How do you grow back wings?”

They sit together over one of the mahogany tables in Xavier’s study at last, trying to figure it out. The Professor comes in and out, sharing anecdotes about what he remembers of mutant abilities. Storm visits too, as she was there when Apocalypse changed Warren’s wings to metal in the first place. She says that the process had been done in two parts: first, the god had caused a metal humerus to erupt from Warren’s back on each side, and then the feathers had turned to metal.

Warren is grateful for Storm’s help. He doesn’t entirely remember how it had happened the first time- he’d been too lost in a haze of pain for any details to stand out, other than excruciating agony. Her description sounds about right, though. It certainly hurt enough for that.

At last, Warren and Y/N look at each other and realize they’ve come to a conclusion. They’ve planned and talked enough, and now the only thing they can do now is just go ahead and commit. Warren has been wanting this for a long time now, but once he’s lying on the medical bed and it’s about to begin, he’s suddenly filled with an irrational fear. The pain will be awful, yes, but some part of him starts to doubt himself. Is this really what he wants, or is it just running from the past?

No, Warren tells himself, this is the right choice. He has to let go of the nightmares of what he’d done eventually, and this is the best way to do it. He does not have to keep himself chained down by the memories. Warren is worth more than that, and he’s finally ready to let himself accept it.

Y/N walks over until she’s standing in front of him. “Are you sure about this?”

He flashes a thumbs up. “Let’s do this.”

She offers him one last smile, then walks out of his view again. “This is going to hurt.”

Y/N had warned him about that. She can heal him, yes, or at least they hope so, but she can do nothing for the pain. Xavier and Jean Grey had offered him a variety of medications for pain relief, but Warren hadn’t wanted any of them. He wants his mind clear; this is his rebirth, so to speak, and he wants to remember every moment of it, both the pain and the relief of having it over.

Y/N lays her hands lightly over his back, nestled in between the bone and metal ridges of his wings. Warren breathes out slowly. This is the last moment of peace he’ll have before it begins. He lets himself remember what it all feels like, the weight of the steel, the chill of it against his back.

“I’m ready,” he repeats, and Warren can only hope that it’s true.

He doesn’t have another moment to consider it, because Y/N is starting and all he can think about is the pain. It wraps around his body like lashes from a whip, white-hot and lancing through him. Warren swears that he can feel the metal curling back against his spine, refusing to come out. Apocalypse may be dead and gone, but what if his magic lingers on and won’t leave Warren be? What if Y/N can’t do it, and Warren has to stay like this forever? For some reason, that thought scares him more than the possibility of it working.

Despite his fears, Warren is dimly aware of the pain changing, becoming more targeted. He can see Y/N’s shadow cast on the floor in front of him, and being able to watch her silhouette relaxes him. Warren hadn’t been able to see what Apocalypse was doing to him when he first got his metal wings, but this is different. He knows exactly what is going on.

After about five or ten minutes, Warren can’t entirely tell, he sees Y/N making a tugging motion with her arms, and then two large pieces of metal clatter onto the ground. He can see one out of the corner of his vision, blood-spattered steel resting within reach. That must have been the metal bones that Apocalypse added, gone once more. All Y/N has to do now is change the metal daggers back to feathers, and then he’ll be him again.

Neither of them really knew if this would work or not, but Warren is pleased to announce that it did. Eventually, Y/N walks in front of him, and he can tell from her smile alone that it worked. She looks exhausted, her clothes and hands spotted with blood, but it is done. Warren sighs, finally letting himself relax. There is no trace of Apocalypse left, nothing but Warren’s memories. He feels lighter somehow, and it isn’t just that the weight of the steel is gone from his shoulders. It’s like feeling a burden disappear, his back straighter and sturdier because of it.

It takes a few days before Xavier clears Warren to leave the medical wing, or start to fly on his own again. None of them know how well it will work, if Y/N’s fix will function at all or if it’s just temporary. However, the second Warren spreads his wings and takes to the sky, he knows that it’ll last for as long as he does. He’d almost forgotten what it felt like to have the wind rustling through the feathers of his wings- actual feathers, not the steel daggers Apocalypse had created- but it is an incredible sensation.

Warren whoops, chasing the sound of his shout through the air. He lets his eyes flicker closed, hovering in place. This is it, he thinks. This is what it feels like to be whole again. The phrase ‘damaged goods’ doesn’t even occur to him, and it may never again.

Warren lands eventually, although he would prefer to stay soaring in the sky for hours. Let someone try to chase him down, there’s nobody who could.

Y/N’s waiting for him on the ground, smiling up at him. “How was it?”

He laughs. “Perfect.”

She reaches for him, and Warren embraces her back. He has his life now, and a life with her. There is nothing more that he could want in this world, nothing that isn’t theirs for the taking. Warren breathes in, out, and starts living again.

xmen tag list: @rogueanschel, @caswinchester2000

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mercurymilkshakes · 3 years

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Puzzle Pieces | Warren Worthington III

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: warren worthington III x gn! reader

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒): some swearing lol

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: warren thinks deeply about his past, and debates his place in the world.

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓(𝐒): “people piss me off so fucking much!” “do I count as people?” “of course not.” + “I can’t move because you’re sitting on top of me.” “have you thought that maybe the problem isn’t me sitting on you, but you sitting under me.”

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 1k

It’s hard to find people to relate to sometimes. To fit in, and find a place you sincerely belong. We all have puzzle piece hearts hidden deep in our chests, ones that we pull apart to try and cram it along in any empty space we can find in this bigger picture of life.

This haunting feeling of estrangement is a universal struggle- one of which almost every person understands.

Although, the case is a little different for a mutant. Those little strands of DNA have woven a stark difference along the puzzle pieces of good people. A difference that sets them blatantly apart from the rest of the board.

This was especially true for Warren, who not only had a very obvious physical mutation- but whom had reformed from a broken and bloody past.

After all that had gone down with Apocalypse, many students watched him walk through the halls of Xavier’s Institute with a great amount of fear in their eyes. They cowered away from his wings as if the fluffy feathers would burn them should they dare to come close.

Half the time, Warren wondered why he’d even bothered joining the X-Men after all that had happened.

The other half, he didn’t have to wonder. It was you.

You who had pulled him from the wreckage of the jet crash, despite him being buried beneath a pile of heated steel. You who insisted he be saved. You who had burned the palms of your hands trying to get him out.

Even now, he saw the scars on your fingers as you spoke with Ororo- talking rapidly with exaggerated hand motions. He remembered those same hands being the ones to heal him and bring him back to his former self, feathered wings and all.

He knew it was you that convinced him to stay, even when the not so quiet whispers and the fairly obvious glares told him to go.

At first it was a simple blossoming friendship, a little plant that you diligently watered into a blooming flower, and then painted those petals with romance.

The relationship was still quite new, but Warren found comfort in every shy kiss, every sweet smile, and every spine tingling time you’d absentmindedly played with his feathered wings.

“People piss me off so fucking much!” You exclaimed, smiling and laughing along with Ororo as you finished your, no doubt, drama-filled story.

This statement pulled Warren from his thoughts. That- and the way you greeted him briefly, cupping his chin and leaving a simple kiss along his hairline while planting yourself in his lap.

Warren grinned and wove an arm around your waist, stretching out his wings as much as he could in the not so spacious armchair. He rested the arch of one wing along your shoulders, and you felt the slight weight of it against your back.

“Do I count as people?” Warren asked teasingly, referring to whatever you had been talking about only moments ago.

You laugh, patting his cheek gently, “Of course not. Although I can’t say the same for a certain speedster.” Your gaze moves along the room to the silver headed figure slumped against the couch cushions only six feet away.

Peter looked up from his gameboy for a split second, having only barely been paying attention, “What’d I do?” He asked, still mainly focusing on his game as he stuck out a tongue and carefully planned out what button he should press next.

“Just yesterday, you stole my plate right out of my hands! I know it was you, Pete, one minute they were there, and the next they were gone.” You pointed at the boy in an accusatory manner.

Peter hummed, suddenly producing a lollipop from God knows where, putting it in his mouth as he pressed a button on his gameboy with his other hand, “Oh yeah, those waffles were really good by the way, your cooking skills are definitely improving.”

You huff and roll your eyes, looking defeatedly at Warren.

Warren shrugged and spoke with an amused tone, “I don’t know what you want me to do, love.”

“Kill him.” You say without hesitation, making Ororo- who sat on the other end of the couch from Peter- snort into her closed fist.

“I would do exactly that,” He promised emptily- deciding to go along with your antics, “but I can’t move because you’re sitting on top of me.”

“Have you thought that maybe the problem isn’t me sitting on top of you, but you sitting under me?” You reply, not even waiting for a response as you pat his chest, “Checkmate, angel.”

As you stand up, you call out to the silver speedster, “I’m coming for you, Gonzales.” You warn.

Peter’s eyes widen as he rushes to get off the couch, “At least wait till I’m done with my Pokémon battle!”

Warren laughed as you and Peter attempted to wrestle right then and there, Peter shouting incoherent apologies for taking your food- being drowned out by the laughter in the room- the loudest of such coming from Peter himself.

Warren watched, adoring the way you attempted to keep a serious composure while Peter pleaded with you, stating that you were the reason his Pokémon would be orphaned.

“What do you even have on your team?” You ask, laughing as Peter struggled against your arm.

“Uhhh an Eevee-” Peter was interrupted by your gasp as you release him from the gentle headlock he’d been trapped in.

“Show me!” You sit on the floor next to him in excitement as Peter smugly hands you his gameboy, thinking he took the easiest way out of your little fight.

You hold up the device so Warren can see the pixelated creature, “Look, angel, this Eevee’s trainer is about to get totally fucked.” You said casually, maintaining the excited tone of voice.

It was Peter’s turn to gasp, standing quickly from the floor and dodging the grab you made for his arm. His voice was about three octaves higher as he screamed, “You’re a monster!”

Warren grinned as you got up off the floor to chase the man who quite undoubtedly was faster than yourself, shooting Warren a sweet smile before you began the hunt for your waffle thief.

He knew maybe he hadn’t found his place yet. Warren had yet to discover where his puzzle piece belonged in the big picture, but with the feeling you always gave him- that fluttery, warm feeling- he just knew that wherever his place was, it’d fit perfectly next to you.

Basically implied that reader’s mutation is healing but that can kinda go hand in hand with any other mutation. aNyway, I haven’t written a oneshot in a long time and I really hope you enjoyed! -♠️

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mirkwoodshewolf · 3 years

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Domestic life; Ben Hardy x reader

*Author’s note*

Here is a cute little drabble request I got from my Wattpad account, I had hoped to have also posted this yesterday but oh well (I mean the fic doesn’t really revolve around Valentine’s day but it’s still fluffy enough to be counted as such). So enjoy this sweet little drabble.

Warnings: Fluffy till your teeth rot. Lockdowns due to COVID (BUT THAT’S IT. Just the word and mention of just lockdowns in general).

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things

@waddles03

@psychosupernatural

@ixchel-9275

@simonedk

@queensdivas

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels

@queen-paladin

@wormzteef

@geek-and-proud

@queendeakyy

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I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes, even though I didn’t want to. My arms raised over my head as I let out a tired groan and stretched myself out and let out a soft yawn. I then looked over to my left and saw the man of life sleeping right beside me. His golden locks looked like a halo under the rare chance we had a sunny day in London.

His tattoos exposed from his nightshirt, my favorite of course being his lion nose and mouth tattoo. Those soft cute snores that came off his lips (even though he tries to deny it), and his chest slowly rising and falling with each breath he took. I raised my hand up and couldn’t help but lightly stroke the shape of his tattoo, very faintly tracing the curve of the nose, sliding my finger down the straight line before swaying across the bottom curve of the mouth.

“You know we could get you a matching set.” Ben’s sleepy baritone voice spoke up. I looked up at him and said.

“If we did it’d have to be washable. You know how I am around needles.” He chuckled softly and wrapped his arm around my shoulders, pulling me in closer. “Did you sleep good?”

“I slept great. You?”

“Like a rockfish.” He placed a kiss to my forehead and we just looked into each other’s eyes. “So what shall it be today?”

“Well you know WandaVision premieres today so wanna check it out?”

“I still can’t believe you made me binge the entire MCU movies during our lockdown.”

“And you loved it admit it. Hell Benny boy you were in the Marvel Universe. Granted it was solely owned by Sony before Disney bought the rights but it’s still the Marvel fandom.”

“So after that, then what shall we do?”

“Well we really can’t go anywhere so……wanna just have a lazy day in? No work out day, order take out for our three meals and maybe—fool around?” I teased with a wink.

“You are a cheeky mix.” He then captured my lips with his.

“Yes but—you did asked me to marry you. Which I’m surprised by the way.”

“What do you mean?” he asked as he began to kiss down my neck.

“Don’t act stupid Ben. I know about that affair with Joe and your little side hustle with Gwil. I swear it’s like I married 3 men instead of 1.”

“You knew what you were getting yourself into when you agreed to marry me.” He said as he hovered over me.

“Yes I know.” He chuckled as he pecked my lips. Then again, and again and again. I giggled and playfully pushed him off of me and said. “Alright you human golden retriever.”

“You know that if I were going to be a dog, I’d be a beagle like Frankie.”

“Nah you’re a golden retriever. Silly, goofy, and loving all the way.” I bopped his nose before getting up and headed downstairs to let Frankie out into the backyard to go pee.

As soon as she saw me, she got out from her bed and I greeted her with a ruffle and scratch on her head.

“Hey there baby girl, ready for breakfast?” her head cocked to the side as her tail began wagging softly. “Come on let’s have breakfast.” She got out of her bed and trailed me to the kitchen. I reached in and grabbed her dog food and dumbed a good amount into her dog bowl and she immediately started scarfing it down.

I began preparing breakfast and as I cracked the last egg, I felt Ben’s arms wrap around me and felt a kiss at my temple.

“You make the best omelets ever.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere.” I teased him.

“Who says I’m trying to flatter you? I’m stating pure fact.” I smiled at him.

“Well how about you give me a hand here instead of just standing there looking pretty.” He chuckled softly and saluted to me.

“Just tell me what to do Captain.” I then told him what to give me next and I proceeded to finish making the omelets.

Once they were done, Ben and I went over to the living room and I started up Disney+ to play the first 2 episodes of WandaVision.

“Okay so remind me again, is this before or after Endgame?” asked Ben.

“I wanna say this is after Endgame. Again I’ve been a little confused as to the timeline or what exactly is the time period here. All I know is that it’s like a sitcom now. And I can see that they’ve definitely gotten the exact cinematography down. You see how it’s a full screen and them using a single camera.”

“God I love it when you talk cinematography like that.”

“Sorry if I come across as annoying while we watch this.”

“No, no, no, no, no it’s fine. Really. It means you’ve got a good eye for camera angels. Remember when Dexter allowed you to film us when we were doing the We will rock you scene?”

“It was only for 10 minutes while he went to talk with the costuming department and to get him his 10th cup of coffee.”

“Still, he was amazed at the fact you helped with blocking and what you had already filmed. So much so we had it in the film.” I softly smiled and we continued to watch the episode, then watched the second one.

As the day went on, Ben and I kept watching various films as well as taking Frankie out for her walks. The sun was just starting to set and Ben said.

“Alright one last movie of the day, I feel like if I keep eating more popcorn I won’t be able to fit into these sweats anymore.”

“I wouldn’t mind that. Whether you have a 6 pack or a bit of a pooh bear tummy, I’d love you either way.” He blushed at my compliment and scrunched himself into a ball as I poked his tummy.

“Alright so what shall our last movie be tonight?”

“Well, how about we do Gwil’s movie Top End Wedding?” Ben pondered before saying.

“Okay. Any reason why?”

“Well I—he and I may have talked about that shortly after it came out and I might have told him I’d already seen it when actually I didn’t.” I wearily said.

“Oh I see so you-you lied to my best mate about a movie he was in and wanted your opinion on.”

“Oh coming from you Mr. Oh yes I’ve drummed since I was 12!” I sassed back at him. He shushed me and covered my mouth with his hand. I pushed his hand away from my mouth and said. “So can we watch it? I’ve been busy and you know it.”

“Yeah I know love, you know I was just teasing.” He wrapped his arm over my shoulder and switched over to Hulu now and we found Gwil’s movie. I’ll admit it took me by surprise (I mean based off the trailers I’ve seen it pretty much told the whole story) but the humor and message it sent out really spoke volumes that no other romcom has ever done before.

Plus the aerial shots were just amazing. The way the cameras would pan over the river or the ridges, you can’t fake that breathtaking view with CGI. After the movie was over, I let out a soft yawn.

“You tired?” questioned Ben. I nodded, barely able to keep my eyes open any longer. “Alright, come on then you. Let’s get you into bed.” I moaned softly and held my arms out.

“Carry me.” I heard him chuckle but I felt him lift me up in his arms bridal style and he carried me all the way to our bedroom.

He set me down on the bed and cuddled up close to me before putting the duvet over us. I automatically placed my head over his chest and placed my arm over his stomach while his arms came around me.

“I had fun today.” I said as I nuzzled into his chest.

“Me too. It’s nice to just kick back and relax for the day. Thank you babe.”

“Anything for my handsome boy.” He kissed the top of my head and soon the two of us cuddled closer (even though I don’t know how much closer we could be at this point) to one another till finally we fell fast asleep.

#ben hardy x reader #ben hardy #ben hardy fanfic #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy imagines #ben hardy fluff #ben hardy fanfiction #ben hardy fluff oneshot #borhap boys #borhap boys x reader #gwilym lee #bohemian rhapsody #bohemian rhapsody x reader #bohemian rhapsody imagine #bohemian rhapsody imagines #bohemian rhapsody movie #bohemian rhapsody fanfiction #bohemian rhapsody fanfic

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assembledherethevolunteers · 3 years

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Day 15- Draw A Hot Bath

A/N: Prompt #15 for acdeaky‘s writing challenge! This got steamy real quick.

Pairing: Ben Hardy x Female!Reader

Summary: Ben comes home from a run, cold and sore. You decide to help him out.

Warnings: Fluff, Cursing, and Smut

Taglist: @queenlover05 @theblossomknows

You were reading on the couch when you heard the front door open and close. Your boyfriend, Ben, appeared next to the couch, slightly out of breath.

“Alright?”

Ben tugged his stocking cap off and took a deep breath. “Think I slipped on the ice and pulled a muscle.”

You set your book down and looked up at him. “I did tell you running outside just after a snowstorm was probably a bad idea.”

Ben rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes you did. And I suppose I should have listened because now I’m freezing and my knee hurts.”

“Well, if you’re nice to me, I just might have a bit of something that could help.”

“Do tell,” Ben said as he tried to stretch.

“Go in the bathroom and get naked.”

“I already like where this is going,” Ben smirked at you before he went into the bathroom.

You followed to see Ben taking his sweatshirt off. You started to fill the bathtub up with warm water, making sure it wasn’t too hot.

“You’re not going to make me take this bath by myself are you?”

“It would probably be better for you so you could stretch out,” you started to put some bath salts in.

“Yes,” Ben whispered in your ear. “But I’d much rather you join me.”

You snorted and turned to look at him. “Fine, but you know I only take baths with wine.”

“Keep getting it ready and I’ll got grab the wine,” Ben kissed your temple before he went into the kitchen.

Ben appeared with a bottle of wine and two glasses. He filled them as you undressed.

“I’ll get in first,” Ben slid into the tub slowly, making sure that there was plenty of room for you.

You then followed him into the tub, your back pressed against his chest. Ben wrapped one of his arms around your waist to adjust you so that it was more comfortable.

“There we go,” you leaned your head back so that it was resting on Ben’s shoulder.

Ben kissed your forehead. “Already feeling better.”

“You know, if you wanted to see me naked, Benjamin, all you had to do was ask.”

“Ah but this was a much more clever, don’t you think?”

You picked up your wine glass and Ben did the same. You clinked them together and each took a sip.

“You always were a clever one, Jones.”

The two of you talked about the holidays, spending Christmas Eve with your family and Christmas morning with his.

“We’re in charge of the champagne,” Ben said with a sip of his wine.

“Because your mum thinks we’ll bring the good stuff?”

Ben laughed. “Exactly.”

The two of you finished the bottle of wine. You were feeling a bit tipsy and closed your eyes.

“How’s your leg feeling?”

“It’s still a bit tight. Might help if you rub it a bit.”

“Which one?”

“Right one.”

You reached down and started to run your hand up and down on his thigh.

“Bit higher, could you, love?”

You moved your hand up more.

“A biiiit more,” Ben told you, pressing a kiss to your neck.

You giggled and slid your hand up a bit higher. “You seem to be pretty tight around here.”

Ben groaned. “Yeah, I think that area needs some extra attention.”

You moved your hand up and down his shaft as he continued pressing his lips to your neck, throwing in some nibbles and bites when you were doing something he particularly enjoyed.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Ben whispered against your neck after you flicked your wrist at the end of your stroke.

“That’s it, baby,” Ben cooed in your ear.

You reached down and cradled Ben’s balls.

“Fuck! Do that again,” Ben told you.

You did it again and Ben rested his forehead to your shoulder. You slid your hand up to his cock, and you felt it twitch.

“Shit!”

You pumped him until your were sure he was done. Ben started kissing your shoulder and neck again after a few moments of catching his breath.

“Feeling better, Benny?”

“Oh much,” Ben replied. “But now it’s your turn.”

“You better believe it, but the water is starting to get cold. Can we continue this on the bed?”

“Absolutely,” Ben pressed one more kiss just below your ear before he got out and grabbed you both towels He wrapped one around his waist before he brought one over for you. “Come on, love. I’ve got some ideas for how to make you feel better now.”

#ben hardy #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy x you #ben hardy x y/n #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy fluff #ben hardy smut #bohemian rhapsody #boh rhap #bohemian rhapsody fanfic #bohemian rhapsody cast #ben hardy oneshot #acdeaky’s december writing challenge #krissys writings

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kurt-nightcrawler · 4 years

Text

Baby Bird

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐈𝐈𝐈 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Request: i kinda had this idea for a warren x reader and if you were intrested or had time i’d be very appreciative 👉👈. (warren has his apocalypse wings) so the reader is a new student she’s very like shy and timid but very sweet and her only friend is jean, she just like refuses to converse with others. and her gift is her wings and they’re exactly like warren’s except black (kinda like he was the bad boy with white angel wings and she’s the good girl with black wings,sorry i love opposites 😂) and be just hates her because it’s a reminder of his old wings and mistakes. fast forward to like a day at school or party someone is messing with r because she never shows off her wings and then like push her or something and jean freaks out and tells warren r doesn’t know how to use her wings (super sad childhood with very anti-mutant parents) so then warren saves her and they talk more and get closer.

A/N: this is so late! I am so sorry! But I am finally getting around to all my requests and this wasn’t in my ask box so it got kind of lost and I forgot about it for a hot minute! I hope you enjoy it though! 🥺💛

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: underage drinking, teasing, anxiety, and mentions of poor home life

“Your grades are phenomenal, yet your class participation is lacking.” (Y/N) picked at her nails, looking down. Xavier called her into his office to “discuss her grades” but she knew that was the last thing on his mind. “I don’t want to push you into anything you’re not comfortable with, but at some point, everyone has to socialize.”

Her head shot up, “I do! I do socialize.”

Sure, she ate lunch alone under the trees, would rather be alone than have a partner for class projects, and she didn’t have many friends— but she was new! Being the new kid was hard. Not to mention her parents were more than thrilled to get rid of her and her wings.

Her big, black, feathery wings, that she didn’t even know how to use! She hid them under baggy sweaters, no matter the weather.

Xavier gave her a look, “You don’t have any friends and you hide your beautiful wings.”

“Dr. McCoy and Mystique hide their true selves… and if Kurt had the chance he’d want to look normal too.” Charles sighed. “Look, um, Professor, I do— I do have friends.”

“Who?”

“Jean Grey.”

Saying Jean was her friend wasn’t a lie— however, Jean was her only friend. (Y/N) didn’t like to talk, and Jean read minds— easy friendship right there.

Jean had other friends and even a boyfriend. (Y/N) felt like she weighed her down or was charity work, but Jean always said otherwise.

Sometimes (Y/N) would sit with Jean and her friends. They were all kind and welcoming, despite her not saying anything. The only one who seemed standoff-ish was Warren.

Warren was tall and extremely handsome. Jean had teased (Y/N) for losing her train of thought more than once for looking at Warren and thinking he was pretty.

He had these huge metal wings and tattoos on his face. (Y/N) thought they could possibly be friends, mostly because they both had wings, but that didn’t go so well…

—

The one day (Y/N) wore a t-shirt, with holes in the back so she could flaunt her wings, everyone looked at her. She didn’t like the attention, but she couldn’t blame them for staring.

Jean’s friends showered her with a mixture of surprise and compliments with her wings.

“Can I touch them?” Peter asked. (Y/N) nodded, making eye contact with Warren for a moment.

He rolled his eyes and scoffed. (Y/N) quickly looked away and frowned. Everyone liked her except for Warren.

Was he the honest one of the group though? What if all of Jean’s friends actually hated (Y/N)? What if they just put up with her because Jean made them? She was sure Scott didn’t like her much either, even if he never showed it. He was dating Jean and her friendship with (Y/N) probably cut into their time… Oh, God… They just think my wings are neat and soon as I stop showing them they’ll get bored of me…

Warren was glaring at something, and then he got up as left. Just like that!

“Is he okay?” (Y/N) asked Jean.

“He’s just being dumb. You know how boys are.” (Y/N) nodded, but she was pretty sure Warren wasn’t just “being dumb”. He probably hated her.

—

It was finally the weekend, and (Y/N) was hunched over her books on a Friday night. Normal for her, as Jean and her friends usually went out somewhere.

A knock at her door interrupted her work time, and she opened it to find Jean and Jubilee standing in the doorway. Jubilee was bouncing and had a bag in her arms.

(Y/N) let them in. Jubilee set the bag on the floor and started going through it— it was full of makeup and hair stuff. “What’s going on?”

“We’re going to a party tonight, and you’re coming with us.”

(Y/N) glanced over to her work pile, “But I’ve got a paper due—”

“Two weeks from now. I have the same class.” Jubilee answered.

“Jean…” She whined.

“One night out won’t kill you. Neither will a little makeup and a cute outfit.”

“What?”

“Here, put this on.”

She examined the lump of fabric in her hands.

It was a dress.

“People will see my wings!”

“Yeah, that’s like the whole point,” Jubilee said.

(Y/N) sighed and slipped off her sweater, putting the dress on in its place.

“You look so pretty!” Jubilee cooed.

“Thanks.” (Y/N)’s immediate reaction was to fold her wings in tightly to her back, so they weren’t visible from the front.

“Relax,” Jean told her, soon as she noticed what (Y/N) was doing. Jubilee signaled her to sit down on the floor next to her, amidst a hundred different makeup products.

“I’m just gonna do some light, subtle makeup. Enough to enhance your features.”

“Thanks?...” The brush tickled (Y/N)’s skin, making her nose scrunch up.

“Relax your face. This doesn’t hurt.”

“Sorry. Sorry…”

“It’s okay.”

—

Everyone somehow managed to fit in one car— except for Kurt and Peter, they were racing to see who could get to the party first— Jean and Scott in the front, Warren, Jubilee, Ororo, and (Y/N) in the back.

(Y/N) couldn’t help but notice Warren looked a little flushed, “Is Warren okay?”

“Yeah, why?” Jean asked.

“His face is flushed. Is he just like, hot or something?”

“Or something…” Jean smiled, trying to act nonchalant. (Y/N) gave her a deadpan look through the rearview mirror. “I can’t tell you, but he’s fine.”

“You okay, (Y/N)?” Scott asked, looking back at her through the rearview mirror.

“Yeah.”

Scott nodded awkwardly.

—

Once parked, everyone quickly tumbled out of the car. Music could be heard from the inside. It was loud.

“I want to go home.”

“(Y/N) we just got here— dance with Jubilee or go sit outside with Ororo and Warren.”

“Warren doesn’t like me.”

“Not true… He’s just quiet.”

(Y/N) started to retaliate but Jean walked into the kitchen with Scott, and (Y/N) tried to not interrupt her time with her boyfriend, so she shut up.

Peter was playing beer pong with some kids. Jubilee and Kurt were dancing and both had cups in their hands. There was some wanna-be punk band playing.

(Y/N) decided to join them.

“Hey, (Y/N)!”

She waved her hand.

“You look nice,” Kurt said.

“Thanks.”

“I did her makeup,” Jubilee bragged.

Kurt giggled slightly, “Nice.”

The band was mostly playing covers, but they were pretty good. (Y/N) was letting loose and dancing along with Jubilee and Kurt.

I'm burnin' through the sky, yeah!

Two hundred degrees, that's why they call me Mister Fahrenheit…

I'm traveling at the speed of light.

I wanna make a supersonic woman of you!

(Y/N) accidentally hit Jubilee with her wings. “I’m so sorry!”

“It’s fine! They’re soft anyways.”

Don't stop me, don't stop me, don’t stop me. Hey, hey, hey!

Don't stop me, don't stop me, ooh, ooh, ooh…

(Y/N) was actually enjoying herself. She was dancing and chanting incoherently along with the lyrics. She almost felt free.

The last time she had felt like this was as a child. Before her wings grew in. Before her parents deemed her a monster who had to hide. Before she lost everything she had. Before she decided to speak less was better for her.

She didn’t even think about any of it. She didn’t even think about how Jean was probably making out with Scott in a bathroom, or how Warren had been acting. She was having fun, and that was the only thing that mattered to her.

—

At some point during the night, (Y/N), slightly tipsy, made it up onto the roof with a few other kids. Everything was fine at first, but they were way too drunk.

“Why don’t you jump off the edge?” One of them asked.

“What?”

“Fly off the edge, birdie!” The other laughed. “Jump! Jump!”

“Jump! Jump!”

In the rooftop kids efforts to get (Y/N) to jump, people on the ground started chanting too.

“What’s going on?” Warren asked. Jubilee shrugged.

(Y/N) was terrified, wings folded in tightly to her back.

Jean came running up to Warren, “(Y/N) can’t fly! She can’t hear me either, she’s too nervous, lost in her own thoughts.”

Warren wanted to ask what he could possibly do, but he never got the chance.

(Y/N) fell off the roof.

Or maybe she was pushed off. Either way, it didn’t matter because she was screaming and falling and no one was doing anything.

Warren bolted and flew up so he could catch her in his arms. She looked so weak and tired in his arms. She was crying and his heart dropped seeing her like that.

Warren carefully brought her to the ground, making sure she could walk on her own. “Come here,” He gave her his jacket and wrapped an arm around her, letting her cry into his chest.

“I hated that—” She sniffled, “—I’m never doing it again.” Warren nodded understandingly, holding her close to his side.

“Let’s go home, okay?” (Y/N) nodded, still in a state of shock.

—

The halls of the mansion were like a ghost town, everyone was either out, asleep, or couped up in one of the many rooms. Warren and (Y/N) were alone as they walked up to her room.

“Why did you save me?”

Warren blinked, looking at (Y/N). She rarely spoke to or around him.

“Jean said you couldn’t fly.”

“Oh…” She avoided Warren’s eyes in embarrassment. So Jean told him to save me because I’m useless. Of course…

“You could have died, falling from that high up,” Warren’s voice was stern, but he wasn’t angry.

“Sorry…” She mumbled.

Warren furrowed his brows, “Sorry? What are you sorry for?”

“I inconvenienced you…”

“What? No!” He stopped to stand face to face, holding one of (Y/N)’s hands. “You could never.”

(Y/N) felt fuzzy inside. Was she getting sick? Was she allergic to Warren? Why is he so nice? Why am I so nervous?

“I’d do the same for anyone.”

Oh. Yeah, no, he doesn’t really like me… nobody does… “Right.”

Warren noticed her mood change, but he didn’t call her out for it.

“I’m gonna go to bed. Thanks for bringing me home…”

“Of course…” He coughed for a moment, clearing his throat. “If you need anything, um, my room isn’t that far—”

“Thanks, Warren.” She forced a smile. “Good night.”

“Good night.”

—

Warren slipped off his t-shirt, discarding it on his desk chair. He laid in bed, thinking about (Y/N).

What if he hadn’t caught her in time?

He shook the thought away as he tossed in bed, slowly falling asleep.

Warren didn’t hate (Y/N). He just hated her wings… they reminded him of his old wings. The one thing he wanted most in life… his new ones were a constant reminder of his past mistakes, they were the wings of a monster.

But Warren had changed, or so he thought. He hated seeing (Y/N)’s wings, despite them rarely being out. He was jealous and angry. Mostly at himself.

But (Y/N) didn’t know how to use her wings…

That was strange to Warren. Maybe there was more to her than he thought.

—

(Y/N) awoke to a knock on her door.

“Hggggg… Just give me a minute.” She groaned. She rolled out of bed and opened the door.

“Jean? What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to make sure you were okay! We got back late and Warren said you were already asleep.”

“Oh… Well, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay… Do you wanna come down for breakfast?”

(Y/N) glanced at her pajamas. “Can I get changed first?...”

“You look fine! Most of the group is still in their pj’s anyway.”

“Okay.”

Jean led (Y/N) down the hall to the kitchen where her friends were. Most of them were chatting amongst themselves or shoving food into their mouths.

“Hangovers?” She asked.

“Yeah some, I’m surprised you don’t have one.”

“I never said I didn’t.” (Y/N) got herself a cup and a plate, taking some of the food and drink available.

“(Y/N), are you okay from last night?” Jubilee asked.

She nodded.

Peter let out a breath, “Thank God. Xavier would have killed us if you’d gotten hurt.” (Y/N) nodded again, trying to just focus on the food on her plate.

“You’re lucky Warren was there to catch you,” Scott stated.

“Yep.”

“Is everyone going to keep talking about last night?” She asked herself.

“Probably. You could have broken your legs, or sprained an ankle— plus people like to talk.”

“Gossip, you mean gossip.”

Jean didn’t respond, she was too focused on whatever Scott was saying. (Y/N) rolled her eyes.

Typical.

Warren trudged into the kitchen— his curls tangled, wings almost dragging against the floor, and he wore the world’s most wrinkled t-shirt— he looked like he didn't want to be there.

He opened up a cabinet and took out a mug. He closed the cabinet door and moved over near the coffee pot on the counter. He took it and poured plain, black, coffee into his mug.

Then he took a sip straight from the mug.

“There is creamer and milk in the fridge,” (Y/N) reminded him.

“I know.”

“Oh.”

(Y/N) focused on her plate again, trying to pretend the awkward interaction didn’t happen.

“Hey, uh, I was wondering—“ (Y/N) quickly looked up at Warren as he spoke. “I could like, help you learn to fly.”

“Um…”

“No one would see us. If you’re worried about that.”

“Oh my god! You should say yes!” (Y/N) quickly twisted her head over at Jean and almost gave her the finger, but Scott was watching. So she just glared.

She didn’t want Jean in her head all the time. Especially at a time like this.

She looked back at Warren, “Sure. I have nothing else to do.”

“Cool. I have some stuff to do, but I’ll get you in a few hours.”

(Y/N) nodded, “Sounds good.”

—

(Y/N) looked through her closet, trying to find something she could wear to fly in. Most of her tops weren’t exactly wing friendly. She sighed.

She didn’t even want to do this— she just wanted to hide her wings forever and move on from last night.

No. No, that wasn’t true in the slightest.

She needed to learn to use her wings, they were a part of her, whether she liked it or not. She had her old life ripped away from her in exchange for the big black heaps of feathers on her back, weighing her down every day. She had to embrace them somehow. They were all she had.

That and Jean… sometimes. And eventually, she’d have to leave the nest and talk to other people.

Warren knocked on her door. (Y/N) glanced at her reflection— she still had her pajamas on!

He knocked again, “(Y/N)? It’s me.”

“Sorry! Give me a sec!” (Y/N) hurried and shut her closet, then opening her door to let Warren in. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine, are you—“ He glanced at her clothes. (Y/N) instantly tensed up, insecure by his gaze. “Why are you still in your pajamas?”

“Uh… I don’t really have anything good for flying—“

“Just wear some shorts and a shirt with holes in the back. Nothing fancy.”

“You don’t understand, I have one shirt with holes in the back, and it’s in the laundry.”

“You sleep with your wings tucked in?” Warren gawked.

“Sometimes.” She defended.

Warren glanced at something shiny in the corner of his eye. “Grab a shirt you don’t care about.”

“Okay…” (Y/N) grabbed an old Xavier’s school tee.

“Give it to me.” She handed it to Warren. He took the scissors from her desk and quickly cut slits in the back of the t-shirt. “There. Now you have something to wear.”

She just stared at Warren.

“Are you gonna put it on or?...”

“Can you step out of the room then?”

Warren’s eyes widened in realization on what he’d set himself up for. “Right! Right, um, do you need any help getting your wings through the holes?”

“If I do, I’ll ask. Now leave so I can get dressed.”

“Yeah, right, right.” Warren quickly stepped out into the hall, shutting the door behind him.

(Y/N) huffed and slipped her large nightshirt off, throwing it on her bed. She grabbed the shirt Warren cut up and put it on without a second thought.

Head pops out through the first hole.

The arms go through the sleeves.

The shirt slips down and covers the chest and torso.

But the wing holes were new. (Y/N) tried to push one of her wings out but she struggled. It took her a bit of reaching back with her hands to spread the fabric a bit so she had more space before she could get it through the slit.

The second wing she had more trouble with.

(Y/N) couldn’t reach her arms back as easily to spread out the slit. And her whole wing wouldn’t go through since it wasn’t the loosest of shirts.

(Y/N) opened her door and peeked her head out. “Hey, I need some help…”

Warren perked up a little, following (Y/N) into her room.

“Just like, hold the two sides of the slit out, and then I can get my wing through.”

Warren did as she asked.

“We’re they too small?”

“A little, but also this isn’t baggy like most of my clothes, so…”

“I can make the holes bigger if you want.”

She dismissed him, “It’s fine. I’ll do it later.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I already wasted enough time getting ready. We should go out.”

Warren nodded, “Yeah. We’re gonna be out for a while.”

—

They were standing on the roof of Xavier’s, looking out onto the grassy campus.

“So, uh, flying once you get the hang of it, is like a reflex almost… But uh basically, you just need to flap your wings, so you keep yourself afloat of sorts. Does that make sense?”

“Kind of.”

“Okay, um, just like, run off the edge—”

“Runoff the edge?!” (Y/N) asked, terrified of falling to her death. Scared of having a repeat of the night before.

“Just flap your wings, and if you mess up I’ll catch you.”

(Y/N) stood at the edge, peering down at the ground below. “Are you sure?”

“Maybe back up a bit, get like a running start first.”

(Y/N) did as he suggested, running off the edge. When her feet left the roof, she tried to flap her wings as Warren had told her.

She felt herself flying like a wonky baby bird. Somewhat lopsided with each flap, but she was doing it!

“Oh my gosh! Warren! Warren I’m doing it!”

She could see Warren still on the roof. He gave her a thumbs up and some encouraging cheers.

(Y/N) smiled, struggling to fly, but flying nonetheless. She looked down for a moment, and then suddenly realized she was many feet above the ground, in the air. (Y/N) panicked, and stopped flapping her wings for a moment, before she started to fall.

“Shit!” Warren flew off the roof to save (Y/N).

But it was a false alarm, for, by the time Warren was about to catch (Y/N), she’d regained herself and was no longer falling to the ground.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Um, it’s just really high up, I’m scared of falling again, like at the party.”

“Hey, hey, relax, don’t focus on the ground or your wings. Just— focus on me, okay?”

She looked at his face— his blue eyes, his plush pink lips, the dark lines adorned all over his face, and how he had a few untamable, blonde curls that framed his face— she looked at Warren’s wings and tried to copy how his fluttered and kept him aflight.

“You’re doing it!” He told her.

“Really?” (Y/N) was almost in disbelief.

“Yeah, you’re doing great!”

(Y/N) looked at her wings, realizing what she was doing. She was worried she’d fall, but it never happened.

“I’ll race you to the mansion next door.”

“Next door? That’s like several acres.” Warren gave her a knowing look, and then it all clicked. “Oh! Oh, you’re so on!”

Warren laughed and they both flew off at high speed, away from school.

—

They got back to the mansion after sunset, both giggling and playfully fighting about who won the race.

“I think I won—”

“Oh, yes, beginner’s luck, Baby Bird.”

She raises her eyebrows and points at him, “Aha! So you admit I won.”

“I may have let you…”

(Y/N) scoffed, “Yeah, right.”

“Yeah, you got me. I wouldn’t go too easy on you.” Warren was headed for the kitchen, but (Y/N) was going in the opposite direction.

“I was gonna get a bite to eat. Wanna join me?”

“Um, I was going to shower first…”

“Oh… I’ll see you later then?”

(Y/N) was suddenly very awkward and nervous, “Um, yeah! Pfft, of course, uh— yeah. Yeah!”

“Great!” Warren was also suddenly somewhat nervous.

“Great!”

The two were on their separate paths, before (Y/N) turned back for a moment.

“You good?” Warren asked.

“Yeah, um,” (Y/N) kissed his cheek. It didn’t last long, but it left her heart pounding and Warren flustered.

“Thanks for today. I’m gonna go shower.”

#warren worthington iii x reader #warren worthington x reader #x-men x reader #x men x reader #xmen x reader #angel x reader #archangel x reader #warren worthington iii x you #warren worthington iii oneshot #warren worthington x you #warren worthington oneshot #x-men oneshot #xmen oneshot #my writing #ben hardy x reader

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almightyellie · 3 years

Text

bookends

in which ben is a lonely author who just so happens to fall in love with his neighbor.

word count: 9.8k

a/n: what is this, if not a classic ellie piece: too much banter, not enough dialogue, and a hasty ending. no warnings? im sure there’s language in here but im not gonna lie to you and act like i proofread this

title song: bookends // adam agin

He doesn’t get out enough.

Ben knows it. His mother tells him constantly, as do his friends, and of course, he would like to do more than work and sit at his house, but he hardly feels like he can find a free moment because one project ends and another immediately begins, and he swears that he’s spent the past six months stumbling from one project to another, never more than a few weeks between writing and book signings and press and more writing. A break will do him well.

The old brownstone shop has caught his eye since the moment he had moved to the edge of the sleepy little town. As a writer, he thinks it’s blasphemous that he hasn’t stepped into that small little bookshop, never bustling but rarely empty, and with a break finally on the horizon, it’s time to step inside.

Bookshops are strange for him; he had always felt at home in them, ever since he was a child, devouring books by the day, and he had practically lived in the library when he was in his teens. Ever since he had been published, though, he felt as though he was always on his toes. The sight of his name on those shelves had once been something he had yearned for, but now it made him shiver uncomfortably. He didn’t want to be bombarded in his home, in someplace he was meant to be relaxed and secure. That was the nice thing about writing, he supposed. The anonymity of it all. It was rare anyone recognized him, and those pictures on the back don’t really do him any justice. It’s more peace than he would find in music, or sports, or acting.

The bell above his head tinkles to announce a customer’s arrival and somewhere in the back, he hears muffled, “Welcome to Bookends!”

He hums into response, breathing in the soft, comforting smell, a mixture of printed pages, and a candle that shines next to the register system. God, he had missed this. It seems that the store is empty, only the sound of an employee shuffling in the back and some quiet piano music, so low that he almost couldn’t hear it. With almost tentative steps, he moves toward the shelves, shy fingers reaching for the spines of books that have just been lined up. The store is pristine, but not clinical. Warm and homey, comfortable, but spotless, books lined up in straight lines and dusted to perfection. It makes him smile.

“Y/N, you’re off!” Someone cries, breaking through the relative silence of the shop, and Ben hears what he thinks is the sweetest laugh he’s ever heard in his life, silvery and sweet, and it feels like it could kill him.

“Thanks, Al!” The voice to match that laugh fits perfectly well. Ben isn’t one for company or even one to think twice about someone he hasn’t even seen, but he almost thinks about peeking around the corner when Al waves whoever this Y/N is off. He listens for that laugh again, but before he can hear it again, he’s getting distracted by one of those tempting titles in front of him and he’s sucked back into a fantasy where his book wasn’t placed directly beside it, like he was just a teenager in the city library again.

Ben likes to be alone.

The house is settled in what looks like the middle of nowhere. Across the unpaved road, there’s a house nearly identical to his, if not a little bit smaller, but it had been empty as long as he had been living at the end of the long, poorly kept road.

It makes sense, then, that someone would have to move into the house eventually. Still, he doesn’t like it. He likes the life of solitude he lives, and he isn’t sure he’s ready to let someone even close to that. His heart aches when he hears the moving truck pull up, and with a huff, he listens to the crowd of people outside, unloading boxes and laughing and singing loud music. Now, a neighbor he could deal with, in theory. But a neighbor this loud? He could already feel a dread settling in his stomach and pain taking over his head.

No, this wouldn’t work at all.

In the first few days, he seems to avoid his new neighbor entirely. They’re busy, of course, unpacking and getting settled and whatnot, but Christ, the music. It’s not too loud. If he were playing his own music, he likely wouldn’t even notice it.

Ben likes music. He prefers silence, though. He can’t listen to music when he writes and it feels like he’s always writing, which means that he never really listens to music, he supposes. When he cooks and when he cleans, and sometimes when he works out, but other than that, never. The loud music seems like it never ends, starting before he wakes and going long after he lies down at night. His neighbor has taste, at least, no matter how far-reaching and perplexing that taste is.

Either way, when he didn’t think about the music, it was easy to say that his neighbor was fine. They left him alone and that was all he asked for, for the most part. It’s wishful thinking, really, that they would at least keep themselves removed from him. A week after they move in, presumably after they had unpacked and fixed the house to their liking, a knock sounds at Ben's door.

One of the charms of living in the middle of nowhere is that Ben doesn’t get visitors. In fact, it was one of the selling points when he first bought the house. They live in the country, for God’s sake, and who moves to the country except for social hermits who want to be left alone?

They have to know that he’s home. He never really leaves, except to go to the grocery store, and after a week of living in the quiet peace that was the end of Verdant Lane (a poorly chosen name, Ben thinks, because he’s never looked at the dirt road, surrounded by wheat fields and weeds and thought it looked lush at all), his neighbor ought to have realized that Ben didn’t leave, didn’t want to leave, and didn’t want any company, either. So they knock, and no, he doesn’t answer.

And they knock again.

Ben still doesn’t answer. So they leave.

And then, tomorrow, they knock again.

Ben begins to think that he’d prefer the loud music every hour of the day rather than have to dodge his overly-friendly neighbor all the time because, after a few days, he realizes they are not giving up on him. Which he could appreciate, in a way. They were certainly tenacious. On the fifth day of them knocking at his door, Ben presumes they give up. He watches through the curtains as they—she—walks back to the house across the road and he notices the little bounce in her step, but more than that, he notices the neatly wrapped plate on his doorstep. His brow arches.

He’s not one to take baked goods from strangers. It wasn’t a moral standpoint, not at all. Nor is it an ego thing, exactly. More fear-based. He had heard far too many stories of writers being poisoned from his agent, a mousy, anxious little man who had cautioned Ben against...well, everything, it felt like. But the rule against baked goods was the one that had stuck with Ben. However, he doubts that his new neighbor is crazy—in fact, she probably doesn't even know what he does and who he is. And then he begins to feel guilty, because this person is trying to get to know him, and he won’t let her.

Then again, he moved out here because he was sick of people ‘getting to know him,’ and is this not surrendering his very standing ground?

That’s dramatic.

With a hum, he opens the door as little as he can and grabs the plate off his ironic welcome mat, and prays to God she isn’t looking at him from her windows. Right on top, on a light pink sticky note, his neighbor has written, I wanted to get to know you but I think I keep missing you! Hope you enjoy these.

He does.

He had always been praised for being observant. Ben noticed things, sometimes things that other people wouldn’t notice. He understands people, and he understands the things that they do because he has seen them done a thousand times over; it’s exactly what makes him a good writer. And a bad neighbor.

Call him creepy, or call him obsessive, or hell, call him delusional, but he thinks he can get away with not meeting his neighbor for a while. Or forever. So, in true Ben fashion—the perfect mix, in his opinion, of observant, obsessive, and yes, a little creepy—he keeps his eyes out the upstairs windows of his house for a few days. He watches, carefully, noting the times she rolled her car out of the garage and down the packed dirt road, hoping to see some kind of defined schedule. And as luck has it, she has one.

Mondays through Wednesdays and Fridays and Saturdays, from 9 AM to 6 PM, he has the road all to himself. It’s much too much work when he could easily just get it over with, finally meet the woman and give in to his defeat; he knows he can’t escape her forever, but by God, he is going to try. He will deceive himself, make himself believe that he doesn’t have to meet her until the day he does.

For a homebody, Thursdays and Sundays easily become Ben’s favorite. It only takes a week or two before he’s settling into an easy routine, where he’ll spend most of the morning at Bookends, reading to his heart’s content, always careful to pick up something small so the man behind the counter doesn’t glare at him when he comes in and plucks a book off the shelf just to settle himself in one of the armchairs in the windowed corner of the shop for a few hours. Afterwards, he’ll pick up lunch, go get groceries, if he finds his pantry running low, and if he has extra time, he’ll stop somewhere for dinner, too. It’s simple, but it’s the life he yearned for when he was holed away writing for months at a time, a life of leisure, where he can do what he wants when he wants, with no worries. He’s reading excellent books and eating great food and yes, he’s really quite pleased with himself.

“How are you liking the new house?”

Y/N glances over the counter to Alex, who raises a curious brow at her. She smiles. “Yeah, it’s good. I’m finally settling in, which is...nice,” she nods, closing her book to give her full attention to him.

Unconvinced, he settled on his elbows. “And?”

With pursed lips, she matches his stance. “Nothing, I really like the house. It’s just...y’know, it’s so lonely out there. I’ve tried talking to my neighbor, but I think they’re some kind of like...hermit, or something, because I’ve knocked a few times and they haven’t answered. I kind of just miss having someone around, you know?”

Alex’s face twisted in confusion. “No, I don’t know. I’d kill for your life.” Y/N giggles, rolling her eyes and skirting out from behind the counter. “Five roommates, Y/N. Five! All I’m saying is that if you get really lonely, I suppose I could take one for the team and move out there with you.”

“No,” she laughs, shaking her head. The bell above the door rings, but Y/N wiggles her brows at her coworker as she slips into the back room. “Go help the customer.”

It’s a Tuesday.

And for some reason, Ben doesn’t want to be at home.

It’s rare that he gets in these moods, where he gets stir-crazy at home. Most days, he’s perfectly content to stay home, and he does—only really leaves when he has to—but he can’t be there today. It’s gray and wet and dreary outside and all Ben wants is a nice coffee and his favorite window seat, so he drags himself all the way into town and gets himself breakfast before showing up at the bookstore.

That familiar greeting sounds, and Ben smiles at the man near the counter for a second before he’s slipping off to find the book he’s nearly finished. It’s a good day to do nothing—not that he does much most other days—and he plans on making the most of it, already having cleared his remarkably intense schedule of cleaning the house and watching five hours of television in order to spend the rest of the bookstore’s remaining business hours reading.

He can hear speaking in the back, something that is unusual but not entirely irritating. It’s usually just the man—Alex, his name tag reads—to watch over the store while he’s here, and Ben has to admit that he’s curious about who’s back there, and if it’s that girl he heard the first day he came in. As far as he knows, she hasn’t been here when he has since that first day, and he’d reluctantly admit that he had wondered about her. It must be a side effect of being so lonely, thinking about girls whose faces you had never seen, but Ben has thought about that laugh, wondered what she looked like.

He shakes the thoughts from his head, blinking to focus his eyes on the pages in front of him. For a while, he allows himself to get lost in the words, immersing himself in the story and letting his coffee grow cold with inattention. It’s not his business.

Y/N stepped out from the backroom, the inventory sheets in her hands and a puppy-dog look on her face, ready to beg Alex to do it for her, and he huffs at the sight of her. “I’m not doing that.”

“Please, Al. Please?”

Ben glances up curiously, green eyes focusing on the woman standing beside Alex, and he furrows his brows. No.

“No, Y/N. I’ll do a lot of things and inventory isn’t one of them,” Alex grunts, and she pouts at him.

Ben has only seen his neighbor from behind, so he can’t be entirely sure, but he is...mostly sure. And then, she glares at her coworker and sets the papers back down on the counter, matching his crossed arms as they stare each other down. Alex, after only a few seconds, relents, huffing and puffing when he snatches the papers off the counter, and Ben is entirely sure that the girl he’s been thinking about for a few weeks is the same girl who plays her music too loud, because when Alex stalks out from where he stands, Y/N bounces after him with a victory grin. He had seen that bounce, and he had seen that girl, and he’s suddenly irritated, because it was the stupidest plot twist he had ever seen in his life—and he hadn’t even seen it coming.

And then, after a moment, he’s even more irritated, because it can’t be enough that his loud neighbor is his kind-of-crush, she has to be just as beautiful as he had imagined.

He wants to curse under his breath but decides against it as the only customer in the store. Instead, he closes his book and cuts his plans short, returning it to its rightful place before leading himself out and sulking all the way home.

When Y/N knocks again, he pauses.

It’s the first time she’s tried in a couple weeks, and usually Ben wouldn’t think twice before he left her standing on his porch, but now he chews at his lip. He curses himself as he stands up and he wishes he never would have found out, because damn it, it’s hard to resist the girl at the door when he thinks there’s the tiniest, most minute chance that he’ll get to hear that laugh again.

The front door swings open with a loud creak—a squeaky hinge that Ben keeps forgetting to grease—and she’s already halfway down his walkway when she spins around, her mouth open in surprise. “Oh,” she breathes, shaking her head and taking a few tentative steps toward him. “Oh. Hi.”

Ben’s lips quirk into a tiny smile. “Hi.”

She shakes her head again, a grin steadily growing on her face as she steps back up onto the porch. It’s only then he notices the plate in her hand, and his smile grows the smallest bit. Cupcakes. “Oh, wow. I’m—I’m glad you’re home! I made you these, but I thought they would melt on the porch, so I didn’t want to leave them. Hi!”

Ben finally allows himself a laugh at his neighbor’s enthusiasm, stepping onto the porch. “Hi!”

“God, it’s so good to finally meet you. I’m Y/N, I’m across the street.” She reaches out her free hand to shake his and he takes it easily.

“Ben. It’s great to finally meet you.” Ben decides that perhaps bringing up the fact that he’d been doing absolutely everything to not meet her for the past few weeks isn’t the right move to make in the first social interaction he has had in weeks.

“Well, uh, I hope you like these! And I hope to see you around,” she grins.

And he’s really about to just let her walk away. Like an idiot.

Sharply, and a little clumsily, like he’s never said the words before (and really, he might not have), he clears his throat and asks, “Hey, do you want to come in?” And then, just below the surface of his cool exterior, all of his insides twist because, what the hell?

Ben, chronically antisocial and devastatingly private, is inviting a stranger into his home of his own free will and volition. Like an idiot. But she smiles, and she nods once. “That sounds great.”

And then he doesn’t feel like an idiot anymore. In fact, Ben feels, if he may, a little smug.

He ushers Y/N inside, trying not to flush when he catches her looking at the sitting room curiously. It feels like she’s looking directly into him, in a way; the house has practically become an extension of himself. It’s lived in and decorated to fit him and he won’t lie, he’s feeling rather vulnerable, but she turns to him with the sweetest smile and he feels a little better.

“I did get your cookies,” he blurts, guiding her into the kitchen.

When he pulls out a chair for her, she beams at him. “Oh, good! Good, I was afraid they got left out or something.”

He shakes his head, sitting across from her. “No, no, I got them. They were nice.” He cringes. Nice? It had been too long since he had talked to anyone, so why was he thinking the best way to jump back into socialization was to talk to the girl who makes his head spin? Every eloquent turn of phrase or metaphor he had ever thought, written, or spoken was suddenly gone and the only way he could explain the way he felt was woozy.

She doesn’t seem to notice though, so he just uncovers the cupcakes and glances at her before he takes one, forcing away a smile at the hopeful look on her face. “So, Ben,” she starts, taking a cupcake of her own and raising a brow at him. “I’ve been living across the road for over a month now and you have managed to avoid me until now, and that’s not an easy task.”

Bashfully, he laughs, nodding once. “Yeah, sorry. I’m just…” Antisocial? Awkward? An acquired taste? “Not used to guests.”

“I guess it’s hard to be, living out here,” she responds easily. “You aren’t from around here, right?” With nothing else to say and a mouth full of cake, Ben shakes his head. “Well, are you liking it so far? What have you found to do around here?”

He pauses for a moment to think. There wasn’t much he did at all, really, and he liked it perfectly well. “I hate to admit that I haven’t found much. I spend most of my time here, usually. When I’m not here, I’m at that little bookshop in town.”

Her brows raise in surprise, eyes bright with excitement. “Really? Bookends?” She laughs, leaning forward. “I work there! I’m surprised I’ve never seen you.”

Again, his cheeks warm at his own indiscretion. “Yeah, Bookends. It’s a really sweet place.” He smiles. And then, because he knows his least favorite question coming, he clears his throat and squares his shoulders.

“Well, what do you do?” She asks, picking at her cupcake casually.

He smiles bashfully. “I’m a writer, actually.”

Her eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Seriously? Anything I would have read?” She teases, brow quirking with mirth. He freezes for a moment, shifting with a nervous chuckle and she sits up a little straighter in interest. “Wait, what’s your last name?”

“Jones.”

He watches realization dawn on her face and his shoulders tense when she snorts. “So that makes my job embarrassing.”

Ben can’t help himself. He laughs. It’s loud and boisterous and he has to reach across the table and grab her hand to steady himself. She’s giggling, too, and he can’t find it in himself to feel embarrassed anymore. “No, it doesn’t,” he says, words still tilted up at the edges.

“I’m serious!” Y/N laughs, squeezing his hand. “Ben, we sell your books.”

Green eyes dancing with joy, he shakes his head. “I don’t think your job is embarrassing,” he grins, pulling his hand back slightly. “In fact, your job might be my dream job.”

Snorting again, she rolls her eyes. “Yeah, right.”

He ignores her words, resting his chin in his palm. “How long have you been there? Do you like it?”

She feels her cheeks warm in humility. “Well, y’know, it was a college job, and then I graduated, but I just never...left. I’ve been there ever since.”

He smiles fondly. “I didn’t finish.” Which is a great surprise to her, because how can someone so unbearably talented not have a college degree? And then she thinks that, no, Ben doesn’t seem the type to like being in college. He has a casual elegance in him that it seems he was born with, and she thinks he must have just been born with all those ideas bouncing around in his head, too.

Somehow, between all their giggling and getting to know one another, talking about their jobs and their families and their lives, the sun goes down and it’s well past time for Y/N to go home. She’s about to, too, but Ben glances down at his watch and hums. “I’d say it’s dinner time. Would you like to stay?” She nods before she can even think about it.

And it seems that Ben had found the one thing he didn’t want in the first place: a friend.

He doesn’t know what to write.

He’s not supposed to be writing at all, really, but that’s only because he has no ideas. He had specifically told his manager that he wouldn’t be writing for a while, that he was taking a long break, because he felt that he had used up all of his creativity and that he was scraping the bottom of the barrel with the last book. So no, he doesn’t know what to write.

The wonderful thing about knowing his neighbor is that he can spend time out on the front porch, the same one the previous owners had ripped out and replaced brand new right before he moved in, so he’s bathed in the sun, brows furrowed in thought, when he hears her footsteps.

“Whatcha thinking about?”

Despite himself, his lips quirk in a smile. “Writing.”

“Ooh, writer boy has to write a fancy book,” she plays, and she’s grinning when he opens his eyes, the sun making them so clear that she pauses on the steps, taking him in for a moment.

“Writer boy doesn’t have to do anything but brainstorm for a few months,” he corrects, patting the arm of the chair beside him. “And you’re welcome to sit, if you let me think.”

“My lips are sealed,” she promises, plopping in the seat he has offered and opening her book.

He really does mean to think about the book he’s meant to start in a few months, but all he thinks about is her. They were fast friends, but he supposes that they had no choice, considering they were the only two people for a couple miles out. Instead of brainstorming, even after she has promised not to speak to him, he leans forward to ensure she’s still reading the book he recommended. “You like it?”

“So far,” Y/N says, glancing up at him. “You’ve got some eclectic taste.”

With a laugh, he sinks in his seat and shrugs. “Trying to open your mind.”

She doesn’t answer. Instead, she shakes her head and suppresses her smile. When he reaches for her book, she allows him to take it and lolls her head to the side to watch him curiously. “Aren’t you supposed to be thinking?”

He smiles slyly over at her. “You’re distracting me.”

While she exclaims in offense, the idea hits him. Why not write about the only thing he’s thought about for the last few weeks? A content smile settles across his face and his eyes slip closed again. With narrowed eyes, she stares at him. “What?”

“I’ve got it,” he admits, pleased to just roll the idea around in his mind for a while before he starts on an outline. She gasps in excitement, sitting up for just a moment.

“And?”

Ben chuckles quietly, shaking his head. “You’ll have to find out with everyone else.”

She grumbles, and he tucks that little tidbit away: she’s a little bit of a complainer.

Tonight, he’s going to her place for dinner, which is a change from their usual routine. Likely because Ben still hasn’t listened to any of the albums she has recommended even though she had nearly finished the book he had lent to her, and he can’t get away from the music if it’s playing through her speakers. He doesn’t mind, really; it isn’t that he doesn’t want to listen to the music, more that he forgets, or he doesn’t want to multitask.

He’s right, too, because she already has it queued up when he knocks on the door, allowing himself in at her invitation. “I’m in the kitchen!” She exclaims, and Ben takes a few extra seconds looking around her sitting room before shuffling back toward the kitchen, unable to keep the smile off his face as she begins the music, beaming at him over her shoulder, already beginning to sing to him along with the music as she added the finishing touches to their dinner. With pink cheeks and a steadily increasing heartbeat, Ben leaned over the counter to watch her, unable to keep his mind from racing, every last thought about her.

It’s been a long time since Ben has spent so much time with someone, probably since he had an actual office job, and that had been years ago, so he’s just getting used to being with someone again. She makes it easy, though, which is all he can ask for. He’s forgotten how much he misses being around someone, how much he missed having to laugh along with the dumb things he does all day long. It feels nice to have someone to make dinner with, and someone to watch television with. Mostly, it’s nice to just be able to talk to someone. Before Y/N had commandeered his couch, he would go days without saying anything at all, and he’s more pleased with the company than he would have imagined he would be.

Ben can’t deny his feelings for her, not that he particularly wants to. He misses the dazy intoxication of romance, one that begins to cloud most of his days, whether he sees her or not. Just the thought of her sends him reeling in such a pleasant, rosy way that it leaves a smile on his face. Dinners become longer and talks on the porch do, too. Eventually, instead of movie nights ending with the movie, the two of them talk into the early hours of the night, and he can’t be sure—he’s never been good at this sort of thing—but he’s convinced that she’s sending the same signals right back to him.

Neither of them will say anything, though, and they’re confined to shy touches and smiles under the low light of Ben’s living room. He’s trying to work up the courage to ask her out—really, genuinely trying, because all he wants is to eat a dinner that hasn’t been burnt with her, but every time he opens his mouth, all his thoughts jumble. So he waits.

It feels like he’ll never stop waiting.

To Ben’s credit, he has never had to confess his love for a girl before. The word love makes him shudder, really, because how long has he known Y/N? A couple months? Still, he’s never had to confess his...pining to a girl before, and it’s a pretty daunting task. Especially when said girl is his only friend, and is the first person he’s even thought of in a romantic way in years. It’s hard to find the perfect time. It’s hard to even find a sufficient time.

And then, before he knows it, it’s been six months since he met Y/N, and he still hasn’t found the right way to tell her, not even with all the time they spend together. Ben has listened to countless new albums and Y/N has probably read a hundred new books and by the time winter ends, he feels like she’s falling asleep on his couch more than her own bed, and good God, does he adore her more than ever.

The book, at least, is getting somewhere, though the outline is a little tongue in cheek for his taste, about some girl living in some house in the middle of nowhere, the most generic kind of thriller he can think of, but his agent likes the idea so far and the publisher says they’ll take pretty much anything he writes so long as it isn’t a blatant rip-off of something else, which sets the bar rather low for him. It’s nice to have at least one of his worries subsided, even if it is because the publisher would “take literally anything, Ben. Send us your diary and we’ll change the names and publish it.”

There are a few other customers in the shop, but everyone seems to be content with sitting in their own little world, which means Y/N is free to sit with Ben on the condition that she keeps an eye on the register in case someone needs her. Even so, she seems to know everyone else in the shop, so instead of what she likes to call ‘work mode,’ she relaxes at Ben’s side with her book, her foot shaking to a silent beat that only plays in her head, and he watches her furtively from the corner of his eye. She seems on edge, even when she’s humming, and he gives himself another excuse automatically; he can’t tell her when she’s stressed. He doesn’t want to bombard her.

It’s kind of pathetic, really, how far he’ll go to convince himself that he shouldn’t tell her, but he really isn’t feeling great about the outcome of his confession. She breaks him from his thoughts when she leans over to whisper something to him, fingers gripping his wrist with the sweetest smile on her face, and he thinks he really might die if he doesn’t tell her soon.

She’s coming over for dinner—as per usual—and the way she lingers close to him makes his heart stop. Tonight, he decides. To hell with it all, it’s the night he tells her.

He pulls out all the stops when he gets home, even down to changing his shirt, and to be honest, he feels like a real dolt, because who is he kidding? It’s not like she hasn’t seen him looking like a disaster, so the idea that he has to dress up to make a fool of himself only makes him more flustered. He plays her favorite album and cooks her something he thinks she’ll like and works himself up into a tizzy in the process of it all. For a writer, the script he has going in his head isn’t looking good, because he can barely sort his own thoughts out, let alone organize them in some poetic and eloquent way.

When she finally knocks, Ben curses loudly, running a shaky hand through his unkempt hair. His stomach turns and his palms sweat, and when he opens the door, he feels a wash of dizziness at just the sight of her, the tangible reminder of this resolve crumbling. He feels like a teenager and he wants to die, especially when she smiles back at him. “Hey. It smells good in here, what did you make?”

He doesn’t answer, because she’s already on her way to the kitchen before he can. If he’s acting wildly out of character, she doesn’t seem to notice, or doesn’t plan on pointing it out, and Ben is glad that he has already plated their dinner, because he wants to get this over with as soon as he can.

This, though, she notices. He’s on her heels when she steps into the kitchen and as soon as she sees the table set up, she turns to look at him with a sparkle in her eye. “What are you up to?” She asks, looking back at the table with a smile growing.

“I wanted to talk to you about something,” he admits, his hand finding the small of her back and leading her to the table.

She sits, watching him curiously and hopefully as he sits across the small table. His fingernail scratches at the dark wood and he clears his throat; nervous habits, she guesses, because she has yet to see him act this way, fidgety and quiet, so she smiles encouragingly at him. “This looks delicious, Ben, thank you.” The two of them sit in silence for a long moment before she chuckles, reaching over to grab his hand. “Are you okay?”

With a huff, he squeezes her hand. He’s being ridiculous. This was Y/N, for God’s sake. If she didn’t feel the same way, she would be gracious, and Ben could handle being alone again. If she did, well...he hadn’t thought about that. He hadn’t wanted to get his hopes up. “Stop me at any time, please,” he insists, but she just raises a brow at him, bidding him to continue, and he grunts quietly, ignoring the small quirk of her smile. “I like spending time with you. A lot. And I completely understand if you say no, really, I do, because I know how uncomfortable this can be, but I would really like it if you would allow me to take you out. On a date.”

There is a beat of silence, and Ben stares at her anxiously. And he waits.

And then she giggles. Bringing their entwined fingers up to her face and pressing the back of his palm to her cheek, she looks at him fondly. “Oh, you’re so clueless,” she says, voice feathered with adoration. “It took you long enough.”

Words are lost on him as relief flushes in his system, face softening and a breath forcing its way out of his chest. His mouth opens and closes again, confusion clouding his response. “It did?”

She leans further into his hand. “I mean, maybe I was reading signals wrong, and maybe I haven’t been clear enough, but...I kind of figured that, in a very, very casual way, that’s kind of what we were already doing.”

“Am I just an idiot?” He asks with a quiet laugh, eyes twinkling when she squeezes his hand.

With a bright grin, Y/N replies, “If you are, then I am, too.”

For someone who enjoys being alone so much, Ben feels like every moment he isn’t with Y/N is a waste of his time.

When they aren’t together, he’s thinking about her, or listening to the music she recommends to him, or writing a book about a surrogate for her, and he’s annoyed with himself, really, but it doesn’t matter, because she’s pleased with him and it feels like that’s the most important thing. Ben does not cling, and neither does she, usually, but when the two of them spent most of their time together anyway, adding romance to the relationship makes them both a little closer.

It’s comfortable, but not stagnant; it feels the exact same as their friendship, mostly, with a little more in-depth conversation and a lot more affection, and Ben finally feels like he’s making good headway on the book he’s not even meant to be writing, even when he strays from his outline. Even Y/N feels rejuvenated, motivated to wake up and go to work knowing that Ben is waiting for her at the end of every day.

She needs him more than ever tonight after a horrifically busy day at the bookshop. He had brought her lunch and she hadn’t even been able to take her break to eat with him, and though she knew he didn’t mind, guilt had been eating at her all day long, paired with the consistent need to cry.

She doesn’t even stop at her own house when she gets home, parking in Ben’s driveway and letting herself in, ready to lie with him and grumble about her day all night. The sigh of relief she releases when she sees him typing away on his laptop on the couch is involuntary, wide green eyes looking at her in surprise before his shock melts away into a smile. “Hi,” he greets quietly, already closing his laptop and opening up his arms for her.

With a discontented grunt, she falls onto the couch beside him, closing her eyes when he wraps an arm around her, pulling her into his chest. “I’m quitting my job,” she complains, and he smiles, his hand moving to scratch her back.

“You love your job,” he reminds her, but she presses her cheek into his chest, sighing tiredly.

“Not when it’s like this,” she says quietly. “This whole day I was just thinking about how I went to school for years only to work retail for the rest of my life. It was just...rough. I keep thinking that if I had just gone straight to a real job— ”

“It is a real job,” he defends.

“But not the real job I wanted. Not the real job I planned for,” she said, breathing his scent in.

Ben is silent for a moment, considering the advice he should give her before his brows furrow. “Then use your degree.” For a moment, her grip tightened on his shirt, and he continues rubbing her back, shrugging minutely. “You’re so capable, Y/N, and you worked hard for your degree. You could do more, if you wanted to. You worked hard for that degree, so use it.”

She sighs, lying down and putting her head in his lap, staring up at Ben. He was so easy to admire, even at the odd angle he’s forced to look at her from, and her eyes upturn at the sight of him; she entwines their fingers. “I can’t leave Bookends. Can I?”

With the utmost reverence, he leans down, smiling when she meets him in the middle to share a sweet, chaste kiss. Honestly, he admits, “I think you would be doing yourself a disservice if you didn’t try.”

And it seems like that’s that. They spend the rest of the night wrapped up in one another and the next morning, she wakes up and goes to work, and the conversation is almost entirely forgotten by Ben. His words stick in the back of her mind, though. It was something she had thought about, every once in a while, but not enough to really do anything about it. She had always been at Bookends, and she likes it fine, really. But it feels like she really is wasting her degree.

There’s no reason for her to stay where she is. She was content at her job, but she wasn’t happy.

Being with Ben makes her want to be happy. It makes her want better for herself, and he wants better for her, so one night, when she returns home after a night with Ben, she pulls out her laptop and stares at her wallpaper for a long time, weighing her options. She would test her fate, she decides.

Alex, who had been lovingly trying to push her out of Bookends for years, had told her about this internship a few days ago, some program an ex of his was setting up in the city they had grown up in. It had intrigued her, of course, but the idea of moving so far away from the town she loved, her home, to start a job she had no practical experience in terrifies her. But she remembers Ben’s words, the same words that had been playing back in her head in the weeks since they had had that conversation. She is capable. She had worked hard.

Before she can talk herself out of it, she’s sending her application to the email that Alex had sent her in hopes that she would actually step out of her comfort zone. Her stomach turns and her palms sweat and she slams her laptop closed. She’s likely one of a hundred applicants, and with no experience and such a large gap between her graduation and now, she soothes herself. One application won’t make a difference. She’s just testing herself.

Even so, she doesn’t sleep that night.

Six months feels like nothing. It’s how long Ben denied and hid his feelings from his girlfriend before he finally opened up that night. In the long run, six months is practically immemorable.

Four months feels even less. It’s only how long they’ve been together and it feels like the beginning of something that’s going to last.

Two months is even shorter; it’s how long she had considered leaving Bookends. Seriously considered leaving, and she had kept it all to herself, even lied to Alex when he asked if she had thought about applying to that program.

But one month...one month feels like a lifetime. It takes the program exactly one month to get back to her.

It’s a Wednesday night, which is usually a night the two of them love, because Y/N doesn’t work on Thursdays, which means they can spend the night doing whatever they please knowing they get to wake up together the next day and annoy each other until it’s time to lie down at night. She’s content, too. It was a slow day at work, and she can’t think of a better way to finish a boring day than listening to Ben tapping away at his computer whenever an idea hits him, reading one of the books from the stack he has gathered up on the coffee table for you.

He has his feet kicked up, his laptop settled in his lap as he types, his eyes narrowed as he stares at the bright screen of his computer. She wants to giggle, really, because he’s cute; he insists that he doesn’t need glasses but he’s leaning closer and squinting and she knows she’s right, even if he refuses to acknowledge it. Placed atop her stomach and ignored in favor of her book, her phone vibrates, and, in need of a break from the morbid unpleasantness of her story, she grabs it. She flexes her toes underneath his leg, shaking the book at him when he glances over at her. “This? Terrible. Awful.”

He frowns, snatching it from her hands and looking at the book fondly. “You don’t like it?”

She picks up her phone and gives him a knowing look. “Oh, I’m loving it, but you can’t deny it’s grim.”

With a smile, he sets it on the coffee table closer to her before he turns back to his laptop. Now that he isn’t looking at her, she allows herself to smile, unlocking her phone and glancing at her notifications. Right on top, with capital letters, she sees that familiar name, and it feels like all the air in her lungs has been sucked right out.

She sits up straight, pulling her toes out from under Ben’s thigh, and he gives a harumph, turning back to her with surprise at her sudden start. “Oh, my God,” she breathes, furrowing her brows. The email sits unopened, but she can still see the exclamation marks. Congratulations! It proclaims, and her heart only races faster. After two weeks of not hearing from them, she had just assumed her application had gotten lost in the shuffle, or she hadn’t been picked, and it had felt...fine. Not great, but she would be fine. As scared as she was, she couldn’t deny that the opportunity excited her, but she had shrugged it off and decided it wasn’t in the cards for her. And yet.

“What?” He asks curiously, sitting up straighter and closing his laptop, leaving it forgotten on the side table. She opens the email, her hands shaking, and she just shakes her head, shuffling closer to Ben as she reads the words on her screen.

“Ben,” she says quietly, fear and excitement and confusion warping the normal functioning of her brain, and she can’t help her disbelieving laugh. “Oh, my—Ben!” She laughs, pushing her phone into his hands. “Look!” With a confused laugh, he takes it, blinking hard to clear up his eyesight, but he hasn’t read a single word before she’s rambling again. “I applied to this stupid thing like, weeks ago, and I hadn’t head from them so I just figured that they didn’t want me but look.”

He reads over the email quickly, a breathless laugh falling from his lips. “Holy shit, Y/N,” he grins, glancing up at her. Her skin burns with excitement and she squeals, throwing her arms around his neck. With a tight hold around her waist, he buries his face in her neck. “What did I tell you? Huh?”

She feels dizzy with all the emotions rushing around inside of her, pulling away from Ben for a moment with a hazy smile to stare at him. “I mean—that’s insane, right? The one application I sent in? There has to be some mistake, right?”

Vehemently, he shakes his head, grabbing her face in both his hands. “No,” he stated firmly. “That’s all you.”

Both of them giggle, still too wrapped up in the excitement and victory of the news that for a moment, neither of them are thinking about the future.

There isn’t really a question about it; she’s going to take it. As though it’s even a choice. And Ben wants her to take it, he does. He wants better for her and he knows that she’ll never find that where she is, but he also wants her. He wants her across the street and working only a few miles down the road. He wants to wake up with his skin smelling of her and to cook her dinner and listen to that loud, obnoxious music she likes and listen to her complain about the books he gives her even and then for them to fall in bed again at night and do it all over again. It’s selfish, so unbearably selfish that it feels toxic to even think about it, but he wants her with him. He’ll never tell her, of course. Leaving is going to be hard enough on her, she doesn’t need to be worried about him on top of it.

He likes to be alone.

Well, he used to.

It isn’t that Y/N is miserable, per se.

She’s lonely, certainly, and she’s exhausted from working all the time, and she misses Ben so much that it feels like a piece of her is constantly missing, but she isn’t exactly miserable. She doesn’t eat enough and between phone calls with him and staying so late at work and her general unrest, she isn’t sleeping enough, either, and they’re both rundown, they can feel it, but it’s hard to want to vent to your partner when the time you have is so limited. They don’t want to waste what little time they have together complaining about their lives, so she just gives that sad little shrug every time they talk and they both pretend things are normal. Things are fine. She’s been gone for what feels like ages yet, but Y/N assures him that it’s only been three months since she packed up her entire life and left him behind to build something bigger.

Things really are fine, on the off chance that they get to see one another, which is what excites him so when he calls her after a particularly long day for the both of them. They fill the beginning of the call with that boring small talk she can’t stand and he’s practically bouncing when he asks, “Think you can handle a visitor in a couple of weeks?”

She gasps, beaming at the camera when she asks, “You’re coming? Why are you coming?”

“My editor has an office just a few miles from where you are. I had to meet with them anyway, I just asked if I could go somewhere else.” Even in the low light of his bedroom, Y/N thinks he looks as though he’s glowing, and her stomach flips at the thought of seeing him in person again.

“Of course, I can handle a guest.”

“Maybe for a few weeks?” He suggests lightly.

Her brows shoot up in surprise, a light laugh falling from her. “A few weeks? Why so long?”

It doesn’t matter to her, really. All she wants is to see him and there really isn’t much keeping Ben tied down where he is; he works from home and travels for all his stupid meetings anyway. Pretending to be back to normal with him for a few weeks really sounds like heaven to her. As for Ben, well, he just needs to see her, no matter how long. Y/N may not be intrinsically miserable, but Ben is. His only source of interaction is gone, the only person he wants to watch television with and eat dinner with and fall asleep with every night is gone and he’s wearing thin, as is his resolve to keep them apart, so he draws a deep breath in.

“Because I miss you. I missed you when you would go home and I missed you when you walked to the kitchen, and I missed you when you turned your back to me to change your clothes and now I just—” he pauses to take a ragged breath. “I miss you always. I used to think that I liked being alone but I've finally realized that I just never had the right person. You are my right person, and I missed you even when you were here, so us being apart is tearing me in two.”

“Oh, Ben,” she breathes, her fingers aching to hold him even more than they already did. “God, I miss you. Of course, you can come for a few weeks. Come for as long as you like.”

It’s practically back to normal the moment they’re together.

Laughter and kisses and music and books, they settle back into that routine from the moment he shows up at her door. It’s truly perfect. They’ve both been running themselves ragged, but Y/N sleeps better with him by her side and he feels lighter when they’re together and they finally feel as though things are right again for the first time since she left.

It really does make the most sense, her leaving him. He knew it would be coming at some point but he doesn’t expect it to hurt so bad. He still has his girl, they just aren’t together. Not all the time. Not like they were used to. He had considered, when she had found out about the internship, following her here, and every day they spent apart only made the idea more appealing to him. It’s too soon for him to pack up his life, too, but being back with her is so good that he nearly reconsiders. It’s so good that it burns. It’s pleasure with a bite, knowing that he has to savor their moment together in preparation of their inevitable separation and from the moment they are back together, he’s dreading the day he must leave her.

He allows her to drag him around the city she has become so acquainted with, mostly because he adores the way her face lights up when she feels she gets to teach him something. Ben is so knowledgeable, she always insists, that she takes great pride in the moments that she is able to add to that vast well of knowledge, pleased that she gets to leave her own fingerprints on his mind. Otherwise, he just likes to spend time with her, even if that means wandering the streets instead of cuddling up in her cozy little apartment.

Tonight, she drags him through a million little shops she’s found throughout her course in the new city, places she thinks he’ll like, with lots of books and antiques and random little trinkets she insists on buying for him to take home, only to finish at a near-dingy restaurant not a block from her apartment, and he reckons they must have run a circle around the whole city.

They’re that couple Ben used to sneer at, holding hands across the booth and smiling stupidly at each other between bites of their food, and Y/N’s whole body aches at the proximity. All she had yearned for in the past few months was to be back with him, and it feels like she’s back to herself, like she had finally tightened a loose screw in the machine that had rattled since they had been apart.

Neither of them speak for a long time, just soaking in the rare time they can get together, and Y/N sighs softly, pressing a kiss to the back of his hand. Quietly, so quietly that Ben almost doesn’t hear her, she says, “I wish it was like this all the time.”

Of course. He had been thinking the exact same thing, and the thought had been amplified with him staying in that little shoebox she called an apartment. “I know,” he sighs too, squeezing her hand. “I do, too.”

Ben does not understand adult relationships. He hadn’t been a part of a functional one for years before Y/N, and his hesitance is palpable as the two of them stare at one another across the table. Of course, he wants everyday to feel like this, to wake up next to the girl he loves and to follow her around some city with a thousand people crowding him no matter where he goes and to eat at a dark restaurant a few doors down too many times a week. How soon is too soon? And how does she feel? Does she want Ben the same way he wants her, and more importantly, will she continue to want him? All the same questions and insecurities he’s internalized in the past few months pile up in his head until it hurts, so he breathes out and looks out the window.

“I was thinking that you could stay a little longer,” she admits bashfully, watching his reaction carefully.

With a quirked brow, he asks, “How much longer?”

Her chest warms and she laughs nervously, shrugging. “A lot longer.”

He feels her tighten her grasp on his hand in a moment of anxiety, and he mirrors her action from just minutes ago, pulling their hands to his face to kiss her knuckles gently. In a teasing voice that sounds much more self-assured than he feels, he says, “Is that how you’re asking me to move in with you?”

Her anxiety melts away and she kicks his ankle softly with a good natured huff. “Unlike someone, being well-spoken is not exactly in my job description.”

Ben grins, shaking his head at her. “My mistake, of course,” he says, tilting his head to admire her for a moment. In a much more serious voice, full of reverence and adoration, he says, “I’d follow you anywhere. I hope you know that.”

“Even into the city?” She teases quietly. With a shake of his head and a disbelieving laugh, he agrees,

“Even into the city.”

A new place is his only condition for moving in with her, and she can’t say that she’s upset to see the apartment go. The house is nice; a few too many neighbors for Ben’s taste, but he’ll get used to them, he’s sure, if they manage to mind their own business and stay off his and Y/N’s porch. Boxes fill their foyer until he can barely see her behind the stacks, having to find his girlfriend by following the sound of her playful giggles.

He jumps out from behind a rather large pyramid of boxes, startling her into a loud laugh, and he’s got his arm around her waist, about to teach his girl a lesson when a knock sounds at the door.

For a moment, both of them stand in silence, but then a quiet groan falls from his lips at the same time her face twists in excitement.

“Let’s ignore them,” he insists, leaning down to kiss her, but she frowns, leaning away from him with pinched brows.

“No.” It’s a warning, a well-earned one, too, but he truly had not planned on meeting his neighbors at all. It was a task much more suited to Y/N and he had graciously planned on allowing her to handle it, but she has her hands on her hips despite his arm still around her waist, and he whines.

“Y/N…”

“Ben, you promised me! You promised me you would be friendly with them!” She huffs, leaning away from another kiss meant to distract her.

“That’s because I didn’t think you’d actually make me do it!”

“Shut up,” she laughs, playfully shoving him toward the door with a quiet encouragement. With a breath in and a smile plastered on his face, Ben swings it open.

#ben hardy imagine #ben hardy imagines #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy oneshot #ben hardy oneshots

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rocketmanmadden · 3 years

Text

Overprotective

Requested by @benhardysbaby5

Can I please have a super overprotective Ben and major aftercare thanks

TW- cursing, light fighting/arguing then fluff

The day was perfectly fine, you and Ben holding hands at the shopping mall, laughing, buying things, and having an amazing time. Until Ben of course had to take a small situation and bring it big time out of hand.

He was in a different aisle, and on his way back to you he noticed another man, most likely around his age, trying to flirt with you. He stood back and watched, and could tell you were feeling awkward and uncomfortable, but didn’t chime in, not wanting to flip his shit, but he couldn’t resist when he heard the man ask for your number.

“Alright that’s enough, do you know who the fuck you’re talking to man?” Ben says, coming up and grabbing the guy by the shoulder, pulling him back.

“I’m talking to a lovely woman, do you have a problem?” The man replies back with an obvious attitude.

“That woman is my girlfriend, so I’d suggest you piss off” Ben snaps at him angrily. “I don’t see ‘your girlfriend’ written on her forehead, you don’t own her” he says, and Ben flips.

Ben pushes him into a shelf, knocking the man and many items over, about to go in for more before you grab his arm, “Ben! What the hell!” You say to him irritated, pushing him behind you before apologizing to the man. “I’m so sorry he did that, we’re working on his anger issues…” you say glancing back at Ben with a dirty look.

“So he’s done this before?! Your boyfriend is a psychopath! You can both go fuck yourselves” He says before getting up and storming away from the two of you.

You’re so irritated at Ben, you put down what you were going to buy and start walking towards the store exit, him walking to keep up with you. “I’m sorry love, I just can’t help it. He needed to stay in his lane and he wasn’t” Ben says.

“So you push him over?! No Ben, that’s not how you handle things, you can’t keep causing scenes like this! You’re way to overprotective sometimes!” You reply, crossing your arms. “Let me make it up to you please? We’re in a shopping mall you know, there’s plenty of ways to do that” Ben gives a slight smile, hoping you’ll take his offer.

“Well..” you give a half smile, half smirk, “I’ve been wanting to get my nails done” you say. “Perfect let’s do that!” Ben smiles before you continue, “but I want you to get yours painted to match mine” you smile and he pauses, “you’ve got to be joking”. And you just shake your head.

Before you know it, you’re both in salon chairs, you getting your long, white acrylics and him getting white on his natural nails. You smile at him, “we’re the cutest couple ever”, to which he gives you a look back, along with a smile and says “I wouldn’t do this for anyone else- feel special”.

You get your matching nails, and even though Ben won’t admit it, your hands look so cute together! And you for sure would’ve thought Ben was done with the kissing ass and trying to make up with you, but he had one more idea in mind after you guys got home.

“Give me 5 minutes then come up stairs” Ben smiles at you and you nod, just putting the bags away with the items you got today, and heading up when the time was right.

“I figured, what’s a day of shopping without a nice relaxing bath to end it” he says standing next to the tub, filled with bubbles and essential oils he put in it.

“Enjoy yourself babe, and get some relaxation.” He says as you get your clothes off and sink into the warm water, and he rests beside you, massaging your shoulders and neck, before playing with your hair and just making you feel good all over, then kisses your cheek before closing the door and leaving you to your peace.

You lay back into the warm water, thinking back on today, and more importantly how even if Ben makes a mistake, he always knows how to fix it. And it’s made simply because he just cares so much. The good reaction that came after the bad one proves that tremendously.

#ben hardy oneshot #ben hardy fanfic #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy x you #ben hardy x y/n #ben hardy angst #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy fic #ben hardy fanfiction #ben hardy #ben #fanfiction #fanfic #ben hardy fluff

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michelle-is-writing · 2 years

Note

Can I request a fluffy Ben Hardy x fem. reader Father’s Day oneshot and reader and their toddler daughter celebrate Ben’s special day with him?

Finished! 😊

#michellesrequest

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whatstruthgottodowithit · 2 years

Text

The Present Race

Fandom: RPF, American Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Bohemian Rhapsody Cast

Pairing: Joe Mazzello x Female Reader

Characters: Joe Mazzello, Female Reader, Gwilym Lee, Ben Hardy, Original Female Character, Original Child Character, Rami Malek,

Word Count: 1100// Rating: Gen

Summary: It's time for a birthday but who will win first place in the present race?

Tags/ Warnings: Tooth Rotting Fluff, Kids, Babies, Birthday Parties, Borhap Cast, Friends, Established Relationship, Requested Fic, Request

Notes: working my way through requests. They're now closed till after halloween challenge

REQUEST - @borhapgirlforlife19

Can I request a fluffy Joe Mazzello × fem. reader oneshot where it's their daughter's first Birthday and they have a party at their house with Joe's family, reader's family, and the Borhap cast there? Also, Joe sits on the floor opening her gifts with his daughter beside him and she helps Joe tear off the wrapping paper and she lights up when he shows her the gifts and everybody takes pictures and gushes over how adorable she is?

‘Oh open mine first,’ Rami said grabbing a sleek square parcel off of the floor and handing it to Joe. He was sitting on the floor of the lounge, piles of presents around him and his daughter, Ellie, in between his legs. She was watching everyone excitedly though she didn’t quite understand the reason they were all gathered around was for her. It was her first birthday and though Joe and Y/N hadn’t gone all out with a massive birthday party they had invited their close friends around for dinner and cake to celebrate.

‘Oh yeah put us all to shame,’ Ben chuckled as Joe took it off his friend.

‘Yeah, get in first and hope we can’t outdo right Rami?’ Gwilym said with a smile.

‘What can I say,’ he shrugged, ‘there’s a reason he picked me to be godfather.’

‘We picked,’ Y/N said coming to sit down beside Rami on the couch.

‘Shall we just get our coat, Ben?’ Gwilym said with a chuckle.

‘Think we better had mate,’ Ben chuckled.

Before anyone could say anything else Ellie made a frustrated noise. She had been sitting looking up at Joe who was unknowingly holding the present just out of her grasp. Joe noticed her and said, ‘oh sorry honey.’

He placed the package on the floor where she immediately started to paw at it grasping the neat wrapping in her chubby grip. With a giggle of excitement, she yanked at it squealing as chunks of it started to come off in her hand.

‘Be careful mate,’ Ben said, ‘she might have your hand off.’

‘She’s got good taste,’ Rami said. Soon enough Joe started helping her and they pulled off all the wrapping paper until it was completely unwrapped. It was a small shoe box which once Joe opened revealed a tiny pair of trainers.

‘Are those trainers?’ Ben asked.

‘Not just any they’re bloody Gucci,’ Gwilym said with a whistle.

‘Nice,’ Joe said, ‘I mean she will one hundred per cent kick them off after five minutes but they’re pretty neat.’

‘Oh they’ll be on the floor of any store we go to within seconds but they’re pretty cute I must say,’ Y/N said.

As if to prove her parent’s point Ellie took that opportune moment to grab one of the shoes in her scrunched-up fist and launch it out towards where the boys were sitting though it somehow went backwards clunking Joe on the head.

‘Ouch,’ Joe said which only made her giggle.

‘Well that was worth it even if she won’t wear them,’ Rami laughed.

‘Yeah very funny,’ Joe grumbled. His moaning wasn’t taken notice of for long though as Ellie was up off her bottom and crawling towards the neat pile of presents a little way out of her reach. She grabbed out for one but Joe merely leaned forward and took it out of her reach.

‘Dada,’ she grumbled though her pout seemed to retreat as he placed it in front of her. She immediately started tugging the paper off.

‘I guess we’re not allowed to know who this one is off are we El,’ Y/N chuckled.

‘It’s me,’ Gwilym said as Ellie continued to ravage what was now showing to be a big box. The box was brightly coloured something that seemed to get the baby’s attention immediately.

‘What is it?’ Rami asked peering over Ellie’s head which was blocking his view.

‘This pull-along toy thing,’ Gwilym said, ‘it’s a caterpillar you pull along. Meant to help with walking and stuff. And it’s good for motor skills and-’

‘And you did pages of research right Gwil?’ Joe chuckled.

‘Well you gotta get it right, right?’ he asked, a little tinge of pink now across his cheeks and nose.

‘Well if not just throw cash at it right?’ Ben said.

‘Hey just because that’s what you do with all the girls in your life,’ Rami said holding his hands up and making a laugh ring out around the room. Even Ellie giggled along oblivious to the joke she’d missed.

‘It’s lovely Gwil,’ Y/N said looking at the ornate wooden toy her daughter had seemingly lost all interest in as it was discarded with the shoes as she headed back to the other present that was laying just out of her reach.

‘Looks like she’s not too fussed,’ Rami said.

‘That’s because our girl has taste,’ Ben said sliding off of the couch until he was sitting in a similar position to Joe, legs splayed around the present that was in front of him. Ellie crawled to it, pulling herself up on the large box as she got there. She stood wobbling slightly.

‘What do you think El?’ Ben said, ‘should we open it?’

‘Open,’ she giggled banging on the box with her chubby fist.

‘You don’t have to tell me twice,’ Ben said pulling wrapping paper off the box with little help from Ellie.

‘What is it?’ Gwilym said.

‘A baby drumkit,’ Rami said.

‘Oh great,’ Y/N said.

‘Yeah thanks man,’ Joe said as Ben opened the box and pulled it out. It was a plastic stand with individual sections that could be played. Buttons and knobs for turning. Bright lights and things to fiddle with littered the small console.

‘Hey,’ Ben said, ‘it’s our job to make sure she drives you up the wall. Besides, it’s not just a drumkit. It’s a complete set of musical instruments in one handy console.’

As if that was her cue Ellie started banging on some of the buttons making it whizz to life. A sickly-sweet voice rang out saying, ‘dog!’ which was then followed by a woof. Ben moved around, his hand on Ellie’s side keeping her upright as she started to smash the buttons under her fingers. A cacophony of animal noises rang out around the room not waiting for the machine to finish speaking before it was announcing the next one.

‘Am I back in the running for best present then?’ Rami said looking between his friends.

‘Let’s see how long it takes the batteries to run out before we make a decision huh?’ Joe chuckled.

‘You like it El?’ Ben said looking into the baby’s round hazel eyes. She nodded, ‘gizza kiss then,’ Ben said placing his cheek in front of her as two chunky fists slapped him roughly in the face before drool-covered lips placed a kiss on his cheek.

‘Now there’s a review we can’t compete with,’ Gwilym said.

‘What did you expect?’ Y/N laughed, ‘Ben’s got a way with women.’

#my writing #the present race #joe mazzello x you #joe mazzello fic #joe mazzello x reader #ben hardy #gwilym lee #rami malek #fluff

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ilyrafe · 2 years

Text

𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒚𝒐𝒖 ✧ 𝒃. 𝒉.

pairing: ben hardy x f!reader

warnings: angst, frankie is the star of the show (as she should!!), dog stuff

word count: 2,9k

ben couldn’t be more heartbroken.

he walks the streets of london with no hope of finding her. he has been calling out her name for almost seven days and putting up posters around notting hill and posting pictures of her on social media looking for his dear little dog frankie, an agitated and very affectionate beagle who owns his heart and soul.

all of his friends are looking for the dog, with no success. frankie seems to have vanished from the face of the earth, and ben has been restless ever since. the guilt has consumed the man and he’s been torturing himself when he remembers that he was the one who left the gate open.

he prays she’ll make her way back home and that’s why he barely leaves the house. he wants to be there just in case she comes back. she’s a smart dog, she knows the way home., he tells himself. it’s this thought that keeps him mildly sane.

“ben, frankie will be found, i need you to calm down a little and get some rest.” gwilym says on the other side of the phone, trying his very best to soothe his friend, but it’s pointless and he can understand ben’s agitation.

“the number on her collar isn’t mine, i changed it and i forgot to buy her a new collar with my new number!” ben cries. “what if someone caught her and- god, i don’t even wanna think about it!”

“ben, please, take a deep breath.” gwilym begs. “you need to sleep or you’ll go mad.”

ben says he’ll try, but he’s lying. he’s already gone mad and hasn’t slept in days. all he wants is his dog back.

as soon as you open the door, you come across a furry love ball.

“oh, my goodness, hi!” you greet the beagle as she jumps on you and barks excitedly. you always have to drop whatever you’re carrying to greet her, because frankie is quite love demanding, but you don’t mind it one bit. “hi, you! hi!”

you kiss her furry head and give her some belly rubs before she ditches you to her toys again.

it’s been like this for ten days.

after seeing the poor little dog seemingly lost and wandering through the busy streets of kensington, you couldn't resist and took her home. she looked sad and quite shy, but as soon as you offered her a bowl of fresh meat and some toys, frankie soon befriended you.

to this day you don’t know if it was pure coincidence or fate that you met. after losing your dear milo, finding frankie has been a relief. she really made you smile again with her antics. there’s so much of her that reminds you of him, you’re already attached.

you know she must have an owner because her collar has her name and a phone number, but that number is non-existent and you don’t know how to find the owner. you’ve walked around the neighborhood with the little beagle a few times on the same spot you found her, but she didn’t seem to recognize anyone. if you’re honest, it’s been hard to leave the house. since milo’s sudden death you’ve found yourself in a deepening depression. frankie’s presence has been so helpful, you’re less and less inclined to look for her owner.

since you found her you’ve been taking care of her, taking her to the vet and making sure she’s ok. thankfully, frankie is a strong, healthy dog, but as happy and feisty as frankie is, you can tell she’s been a little crestfallen, and you’re sure she misses her owner. as much as she seems to like you, you know she deeply misses whoever cared for her and it only makes you feel awful about yourself.

how selfish one can be?

thirteen days and no frankie.

ben doesn’t deny that he’s lost hope and it’s been hard for his friends to comfort him. he feels he hasn’t done what he could, but he doesn’t know what else to do either. he wants to be home in case frankie makes her way back, but he wants to look for her on the streets, on every corner, every bush, every place he might have forgotten to go to.

it’s early. ben isn’t a morning person, especially on the weekends. for some reason he feels like leaving the house. he takes a warm shower, grabs his coat and leaves to eat breakfast at the small coffee shop near his apartment. he would take frankie there all the time and the owner always gave her a treat or a small cup filled with whipped cream, her absolute favorite thing in the world.

“hi, ben.” jenny, one of the waitresses says to the actor. “what can i get you?”

she knows ben, and she knows about frankie. she can’t help the pitiful look on her face, but ben is too numb to care.

“just coffee and a bagel, please.” he responds with a small smile, one that isn’t genuine.

jenny nods and comes back inside, and ben stares at the streets. he can’t help but wonder if frankie is out there right now, just hiding. just waiting for him to find her and give her endless belly rubs and ear scratches. jenny soon comes back with his order. he takes one sip of his coffee, but before he can bite his bagel, he hears barking.

really loud barking.

the barking doesn’t stop and it catches his attention. as soon as he turns around, he sees a beagle barking at what it seems to be his direction. oh, my god.

“frankie, wait!” says a woman who is trying to hold the agitated beagle by a blue leash. regardless, she lets the dog guide her to wherever it wants to be, and the dog seems to be running towards him.

frankie.

the woman said frankie... didn’t she?

“frankie?!” ben exclaims as the woman lets go of the leash and the adorable beagle nearly flies to her owner, who is on his knees, ready to take her in his arms. “frankie!” in a mix of crying and laughing, ben welcomes his beloved dog in his arms. frankie barks and whines as she licks every spot of him. a few aw’s can be heard. it’s a lovely scene to witness, but not for the woman. she’s standing there, watching frankie reunite with her owner, and it can only mean this is goodbye.

you’re not ready to say goodbye to frankie.

after ben recollects himself, he finally acknowledges you. he chuckles at himself and wipes away his happy tears.

“you found frankie! oh, my god, i don’t know how to thank you- wait, let me get your number for the reward-”

“no, it’s fine.” you say, cutting him off entirely. “i don’t want any money.” ben frowns. he wasn’t expecting such a poor reaction from you. well, he doesn’t know what he was expecting, but it is an odd reaction. “anyways, let me just get this leash, it’s mine, actually.”

you carefully removes milo’s leash from frankie and ben stares at you in complete confusion.

“may i know your name at least?” ben asks. “how did you find frankie?”

you want to leave. you want to cry your eyes out because you’re losing another dog in less than a year.

“it doesn’t matter. she’s here, she’s healthy and she’s safe. please, get her a new collar with your number, okay?”

ben is stunned. he watches you leave and despite frankie’s barks, you don’t look back.

(…)

as you walk back home, you find one of the many missing posters with frankie’s picture on it. it has the owner’s name, ben, a phone number and an address. you take the poster and put it inside your bag. once you’re home, the silence is so loud and so hurtful. you’ll never be greeted by frankie again. milo’s toys are all around your apartment, just the way frankie left before leaving with you this morning.

if you knew frankie would find her owner this morning, you wouldn’t have left today, but seeing the two meet again was comforting. you would give anything to have that moment with milo, but it’s not possible, and that’s what makes you so irrational at times. milo’s sudden death affected you more than you’d like to admit, and you’ve heard that “it’s just a dog”, but what some people don’t understand is that dogs only have unconditional love to give. they want to be by your side even when you’re not being the best company. milo stood by your side for six years and he saw you at your highest and lowest.

you know you have to move on and allow the healing process to begin. it’s been eight months. it’s time.

you take a cardboard box and start putting milo’s stuff inside it. all the toys, the collars, the bowls, the clothes... everything. it’s so incredibly difficult, but you know it’s necessary.

when you come across frankie’s routine exams, you wonder if it would be a good idea to send them to ben along with the toys that frankie played with. he must be thinking you’re a creepy person, and you don’t judge him.

you take a paper bag, take out some of the toys that frankie liked like a blue ball and a stuffed elephant, you put on the blue collar and put it inside the bag along with the exams. you take a sheet of paper and a pen and start writing.

the last two days have been happy. everyone is excited about frankie’s return, as strange as it was. ben can’t get your image out of his head, it was definitely an odd reaction.

“she didn’t want the money?” joe asks again, and ben nods once more. “maybe she’s just that kind.”

“i know, but she didn’t even want to tell me how she found frankie, and she wouldn’t tell me her name. she just...walked away.”

“yeah, it’s really weird.” joe ponders. “don’t you think about looking for her?”

“i’ve never seen her before and i don’t know who she is. i think frankie is missing her 'cause she’s whining quite a lot.”

“poor thing. at least she was taken care of.”

“i can only hope so. i don’t know where frankie was, i don’t know-” ben is interrupted by the doorbell. “oh, someone’s here. let me get that, i’ll call you back.”

“alright. let me know if you need anything.”

ben hangs up and goes to the door. frankie isn’t even barking and he’s starting to get worried. when he opens the door, he doesn’t see anyone, but there’s a paper bag full of stuff on his step. he looks around and doesn’t see anyone who would spark his attention. a little scared, ben takes the bag inside and puts it on the table and when he opens it, he sees that there are a few dog items. the blue leash frankie was wearing two days ago, a couple of toys, vet documents and a note.

ben quickly checks the documents and then he opens the note.

hi.

i’d like to start by apologizing for being so rude when we met. it’s been a difficult few months for me and frankie was a huge help. i didn’t think we would go on our separate ways so soon. i found her wandering around in kensington, and i took her in. i took her to the vet the next day and she was fine and healthy as you can see (check the vet documents). i tried calling the number on her collar, but i wasn’t able to reach you.

before you think this is weird, when i came back home the day frankie found you, i saw a missing poster and that’s why i know your address. if you don’t mind, i sent some of frankie’s favorite toys and the leash was wearing, just in case you need one. i don’t need these things anymore and she’s quite attached to them.

i’m glad you’re both are reunited and once again, i’m sorry for being rude.

ben sighs heavily after reading the note. still no name, but a neighborhood. he calls joe again, and his friend is quick to answer.

“hey-”

“joe, she sent a bag with a bunch of stuff for frankie.”

“what?”

“yeah, she just sent a bag with toys, a leash, vet papers and a note. she didn’t say her name, but she wrote that she found frankie in kensington!”

“okay, calm down.” joe chuckles. “did you see her when she dropped the bag?”

“no, but i’m gonna find this woman.”

“why are you so obsessed with her anyways? she clearly doesn’t want to be found.”

“i don’t know. she wrote that frankie helped her and frankie misses her. if she’s not unhinged, maybe she can come visit frankie.”

“just don’t be so unreasonable, okay? if she doesn’t want anything to do with you or frankie, let it go.”

“fine, okay.” ben sighs. “i’m gonna go.”

“keep me updated!”

“i will.”

this might have been a bad idea. he doesn’t know your name, or number or anything else but the fact that you found her there. what if you don’t even live there? he didn’t think things through and now he’s mad at himself. he doesn’t even know what he’ll say, and there must be a reason you didn’t identify yourself. he’s been walking around different areas in kensington and no sign of you.

“i guess she doesn’t want to be bothered.” ben mumbles to frankie, who is sitting in his lap, enjoying the sun.

right when ben takes a sip of his water, frankie begins to bark again. she jumps out of ben’s lap and runs out of the coffee shop they’re at.

“frankie!” ben yells as he runs after his dog.

not again!

the beagle runs and runs as fast as her little legs can. she’s so happy to see you, her little heart could combust. she’s barking so loud to get your attention, and when you finally do, you can’t stop yourself from picking her up and kissing her furry body and adorable head.

behind her, there is ben, with his cheeks as red as two tomatoes. he’s panting and he’s desperate, but as soon as he realizes it’s you, he begins to calm down.

“hey.” he pants. he puts his two hands on his knees and takes a few minutes to breathe. “god, i’m old.”

you laugh. he’s not old at all. it didn’t take you a lot of convincing for you to agree to come with ben and frankie for a coffee. frankie is still on your lap. she really missed you.

“so, y/n,” ben says. “um… what happened?”

“what you mean?”

“on the note you said you’ve been going through a difficult few months.”

“oh.”

“what happened? can i help you in anything?”

“no.” you smile sadly. you keep playing with frankie’s floppy ears as you try your best not to cry. “i lost my dog, milo. he had heart cancer and just collapsed.”

ben’s face falls.

“i’m so sorry.” he laments. “how old was he?”

“six.”

“and what were the symptoms?”

“he didn’t have any.” you reveal. “that’s why it’s been so difficult, he was fine. every morning we would go out for a run and that day he just collapsed. there was nothing i could’ve done.”

“i’m really sorry.”

“it’s okay.” you shrug. “people say that someday it’ll stop hurting. i’m one day closer to this day, i guess.”

he can’t imagine what you’re going through. losing your best friend of six years and so suddenly must be traumatizing. he can tell you’re still very much hurt.

“the toys you sent were milo’s, then.”

“yeah. frankie liked them. since i don’t need ‘em anymore, i hope it’s okay that she keeps ‘em.”

“yeah, absolutely.” he smiles. “why didn’t you take the money?”

“i don’t need it.”

“you paid for very expensive vet bills, y/n. at least let me pay for those.”

“no.” you insist. “i sent you the papers just so you have proof she was taken care of.”

unbelievable. kindness is such a foreign concept these days. ben doesn’t know much about you, but at the same time, he knows you’re incredibly generous and selfless. the fact that frankie has barely paid any attention to him the entire time you’re there tells him a lot. one thing ben loves about dogs is their ability to tell who is worthy of trust and who isn’t, and you are. you absolutely are. he trusts frankie’s judgement of character better than his own.

“i guess i owe you one.” ben says.

“you don’t owe me anything. maybe just keep an eye on this one and we’ll be even.” you say looking down to the beagle on your lap. “well, it’s been great, but i have to go.”

“oh.”

you put frankie on the ground and stand up to leave.

ask for her number. ask for her number!

“um, can i have your number?” he blurts out.

“why?”

“‘cause… frankie misses you… and… y’know. i can send you pictures of her. if you want. pictures of frankie.”

you chuckle. apparently ben gets red easily.

“of course.”

you both exchange numbers and you leave. ben stays to finish his coffee and he’s hopeful.

he’s hopeful.

#my writings #ben hardy #ben hardy x you #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy oneshot #ben hardy imagine

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