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#im wine drunk and wanna chat
angelicizedeve · 1 year
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⋆ ..˚。⋆୨୧˚ 𝓪 𝓭𝓪𝓽𝓮 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓯𝓪𝓽𝓮 .*+:。.。˚
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feat. diluc x female reader
synopsis:  after a night of partying at the dawn winery where even the self-controlled diluc got drunk, he asked you out on a date. already in a drunken state yourself, you accepted.
genre: fluff diluc x female reader
notes: im sorry if this is cringe 😭. i've never written a kiss scene before so idk if its good or not lmao
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you stared at yourself in the mirror, searching for any flaws in your appearance. you wanted to look good for this date.
did he really ask me out on a date? ME?
it was so sudden and out of character for him. you didn’t even have to think twice about saying yes, but now you regret it. wouldn’t it be awkward going out on a date with the diluc ragnvindr? hopefully not. he was taking you out to a fancy restaurant, even insisting that he’d pick you up. 
would he even remember that you were supposed to go out tonight? i mean, the two of you had been really drunk. honestly, you didn’t even know he was capable of getting drunk. diluc had been super clumsy and unusually flirtatious, which you reciprocated in your also intoxicated state.
the first thing you’d done when you woke up was try to fix the hangover you had, which thank goodness, wasn’t as bad as you expected. then you planned out your outfit, and took your time washing your hair, styling it, doing your makeup, painting your nails, and finally, putting on your dress. it was a long, black, body-con dress with thin straps. the accessories you’d picked out were a thick silver necklace, rings, and dangly earrings, as well as some black heels. finally, you sprayed a bit of perfume and rubbed it on your wrists and on the back of your ears, just in case he decided to hug you. you had to admit, you looked beautiful. 
glancing at the clock on your nightstand, you saw it was 7:48pm. he said he’ll be here at 8. with that, you shrugged on your coat, grabbed your purse, and headed down to the main floor of your apartment building. you sank into one of the comfy chairs, nervously tapping your feet on the floor as you gazed out onto the road to see if diluc had arrived. at 7:55pm, he gracefully parked his car and came up the stairs to get you. you took a deep breath and opened the door.
“hi diluc!” you said cheerfully. he stared at you for a moment, then said, “hello [name], you look..uh, really nice.” your face heated up and you felt a smile appearing. 
“thank you. you look nice as well.” 
“thanks. well, shall we?”
diluc held out his arm, which you graciously took to support yourself in your heels.
when you got to the restaurant, the hostess led you to your table. you were thankful you had chosen to dress up instead of wearing something a little more casual. the restaurant had some dim but warm lights, small round tables with white tablecloths, with tall white candles and a single red rose in a glass vase on each one. you each took your seats and observed the diner.
“this place is really nice. thank you for taking me here.” you said quietly. diluc smiled.
“of course. and not to worry, i’ll pay for everything.”
you raised an eyebrow. “um, yeah no, not if I have anything to do with it.”
diluc mimicked your expression. “mhm, sure.”
eventually the tension melted and the two of you chatted like you usually do. when it was time to order you both ended up getting pasta, you the spaghetti bolognese and him the chicken alfredo. the food came steaming hot and you both clinked wine glasses before beginning your meals.
“mmm, this is so good!” you said, covering your mouth as you chewed. “wanna try some?”
“sure,” diluc said, reaching over and twirling the pasta over his fork. he chewed thoughtfully before nodding in approval. “want a bite of mine?” you wiped your mouth with a napkin and a muffled ‘sure’. he reached over and grabbed your work, swirling the pasta around it and adding a piece of chicken before holding it out and putting it in your mouth. it was hard to ignore the butterflies that the small action invoked in your stomach. the rest of the dinner was filled with similar actions that that made you want to giggle and swing your feet, but you kept your composure.
after a while, the waitress came up to you both and asked if you were ready to pay the bill. diluc nodded and she gave the reciept. your eyes widened. it added up to that much?
“thank you,” you said quickly to the waitress. “i’ll be paying.”
diluc shot you a look. “no, that’s alright, i will.” 
you reached for the paying machine but diluc’s hands landed on yours. “[name], really. it’s my treat.” he said quietly, with a soft look in his eyes.
damn it. how am i supposed to resist that?
reluctantly, you pushed the machine towards him and crossed your arms. after thanking the waitress, diluc held his hand out to you and you headed back to his car.
when you arrived at your apartment, diluc helped you up the stairs. “uh..[name]. i wanted to…thank you. for what a fun time we had tonight.”
you had to do a double take, because standing in front of you was a blushy and shy diluc, not the ever stone-faced, straight forward one you always see. you smiled sweetly and chuckled. “thank you too. it was really nice. and thanks for paying too…i promise i’ll pay ya back.” you said shyly. 
the two of you looked up and locked eyes. then it just happened. his arm slithered around your waist and pulled you closer, your arms resting on his shoulders. and then his lips landed on yours. they were soft and sweet like a cloud of cotton candy. your hands instinctively buried themselves in his soft locks of hair, and when you pulled away, a shy smile grew on both your faces that neither of you could control. “see you tomorrow, [name].” diluc said, before giving you a forehead kiss and walking back to his car, leaving you happily surprised in front of your apartment.
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© angelicizedeve 2022
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sea-drifter · 11 months
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A new ship? TELL ME ALL !!!!!
also I'm glad your day got better !
AND SO HERE IS YOUR DAILY KISS
MWAH!!!
I FINALLY GOT TIME TO POST SO HERE GOES- CANT BELIEVE IM NOT THE FIRST TO SHARE THIS SHIP BUT AT LEAST THERE ARE PEOPLE WHO SHARE THE VISION-
also this is a very late reply wow- ANYWAYS-
So i was just thinking one day y'know, like, what if i shipped my first genshin crush and my latest genshin crush, and it resulted to
"Diluc x Kaveh" I was like, "haha, they're perfect for each other" as a joke...but bro...I don't think it's a joke anymore... also for the shipname, i was either DilVeh that's kinda eh or KaLuc that u can misread as KaeLuc But then i decided to call it DiVe!! the first one still pronouncing their names a bit, this one is just straight up dive cuz i wanna dive into their overflowing potential of a ship- This is gonna be a long rant about how they met and headcanons [which I will post separately] so be prepared- TW: ooc, mentions of alcohol but only a bit pls still do enjoy and see if you'd ship them with me^^
Diluc being a head of the Dawn Winery just gets him bitches y'know. And the Ragnivindr clan being nobles in the past just adds to that, he's a- Anyways- How I think they'd meet: Let's say Kaveh has been traveling with traveler and paimon for a bit and he may have done some changes to the serenity pot as thanks for letting him sleep in a comfortable bed and not just outside of al haitham's house. And since other genshin characters visit there sometimes too, ofc word of The Light of Kshahrewar's works would spread out. And that's where Kaveh lands in Mondstadt, commissioned to build something there or perhaps just commissioned to make a Mondstadt-inspired home/building for someone. Ever since Kaveh got that commission, he knew he had to save a lot of money for the famous wine of Mondstadt. And as we know, Kaveh is a lover of wine, so The Angel's Share is a must-go visit for him on this search for inspiration! Plus, where's he gonna find inspiration without a bit of chillaxing first, right?
With his smarts and passion for the arts, he would clearly love Mondstadt. The poems and bards, the flowers and freedom, oh so different to Sumeru who even banned such wonderful performances! He definitely fell for Monstadt first. Being lucky enough to make reservations to an Inn, though not nearby,(let's pretend there's an Inn in Springvale since the goth grand hotel is occupied by the fatui.) He sets off to Angel's Share. With how pretty this man is, you can't deny eyes were on him. A foreigner from afar with a beautiful physique, his shirt showing his back and chest tells the patrons of the bar that he is very confident in his appearance. Though the redhead by the counter didn't seem to even stare a bit and only looked up to see who came in and started making another drink. Anyone would've been hurt or offended but Kaveh was too stunned to see the Diluc Ragnvindr in the flesh and merely stood in awe by the counter. Ahhhhhhhhh two hot people in the same place, the bar is practically melting, save for the drunk ones who are already beyond the comprehension of their surroundings.
"Ah, I'm truly in luck today." Kaveh chirped as he sat down.
"I'm so happy to taste the famous wine of Mond and have the head of the Dawn Winery as the bartender himself!" He praised more. "My pleasure dear guest." "Coming from all the way to Sumeru, I think the pleasure of meeting you shall be mine. After all, you're quite more of the star here tonight than I am." Yea yea, Diluc doesn't like idle chit-chat, but like, I can see Kaveh just throwing flowers at him with his vocabulary and making Diluc have to respond. Though of course the attention is thrown back to Kaveh as patrons start swirling around him asking questions about Sumeru and perhaps if he's single- Drink after drink, Kaveh has become drunk to the point where he'd gone and started complaining unlike how flowery with his words he was earlier. The other patrons have already gone home or passed out outside, but Diluc was still at the counter, listening to Kaveh complain about this "Al Haitham" person. "HE DOESN'T GET IT DOES HE-" "AND THEN HE CARRIED BOTH KEYS AGAIN-" "HE'S JUST SO AGHHHHHHHH-" Diluc has enough and tries to at least ask Kaveh if he's staying anywhere. Of course, he got ignored. So he went with plan B. Which is to bring him along to his house. I mean, he can't get information, and he's too tired to have some people check in on where he's staying so he could just bring him there. He could finally rest, and the drunk blonde won't have to be in danger if he ever stumbled into the wild in his drunken frenzy. "What the fuck happened last night." That was all Kaveh could think of as he suddenly sat up which he instantly regretted when he feels his head throb in pain. He was in an unfamiliar and large room. His clothes were different and from the feel and looks of them, it's expensive as fuck-
"AM I DEAD OR SOMETHING-" "Not at all, sir." Reassures the voice, to which Kaveh jumps, meeting eyes with the maid, who smiles at him. "Good morning sir, here is some tea to soothe your headache and some breakfast to fill your stomach." A tray of authentic Mondstadt food was placed on his lap, making him drool at the sight.
"I'll be off to tell the young master that you're awake so, please enjoy your meal as I call for him." Ever since he stepped into Mondstadt, everything was so fun and relaxing, and no annoying roommate to argue with all the time. He was truly in paradise- But his second day in Mond already started in chaos. I mean- HE'S IN SOMEONE'S HOUSE RIGHT NOW- WHERE IS HE- What more shall come to Kaveh? And what's this warm feeling building up when he meets him more often? couldn't decide how it goes to the point where they fall for each other so perhaps you can share your ideas hehe will post headcanons later in the day or when I get home
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teenagefeeling · 1 year
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did i already post that im wine drunk? idk, well im wine drunker now. hiiiiiiiii send me messages i wanna chat
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motherflecker · 2 years
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Squee i drank three glasses of wine and i had the revelation that I'm Theo. I mean I'm slutty and dreamy djvdjdhd oh goooodi wanna be so sad right now because Where is my Akk??? WHERE SI SHE??? (IM A LESBIAN I m MEEN) i want to kiss her and all that staff :( but I can't be sad because wine and i need to go to work tomorrow so i need to go to sleep.
Fuck i need to tell you that you are really a person i wish i had in my life because you are so coo)l? This is totally not wine talking i mean it. I love the way you write and i love your posts and thoughts that you show ys?? I hipe you understand what i mean. I want you to deel appreciated! God squee i wish i had a friend like you in my life. I could discuss slutty theo with you but also rhys from borderlands but also I don't know what do you do but I'm so interested??? Squee I'm sorry im really sorry for this xjbdjd I'm drunk and what am i even doing on Tumblr but yeah. You live yourself i hope you do. You deserved to be loved. Have a lovely day/night! You are gorgeous! Your blog and all that akktheo thirst keep me going dkdbdkbdk
anon, you are so cute and this is the funniest fucking ask
first of all: i hope you drank some water after having all that wine. bro, i had a bunch of sake a few weeks ago and forgot to drink water and when i tell you i was miserable broooooo. i was so miserable the next day. please drink water.
anyway, there is nothing wrong with being a dreamy slut. i support your right to be a dreamy slut! theo made it work, after all. you will find your akk one day and it'll be great. you'll have a great time and i swear, she'll totally be hot. putting that in the universe for you, okay!!!!!
and next THANK YOU HAHA. this makes me sound much cooler than i am. i am just a little guy! getting by! like the rest of us! i am really really really glad you like my fics and really really really glad you like my posts. i will keep posting as long as folks keep asking. i got nothing better to do, after all
as for wanting a pal like me, well!!! i'm pretty personable, i like to think. if you end up chatting w me, i'm happy to chat. i'm losing it a little at you mentioning borderlands, you must've seen my livetweets. look, i love rhys. he was my fave for a bit there and see, look, we already have two common interests! 😘
and for what i do for a living, it's nothing special LMAO. i'm a project manager at a tech company. google what PMs do and it's just very lame. i herd cats and get involved in everyone's business, that's it. that's all. it's fun and i get to wfh and sign off at 5pm which is really all i want HAHA.
so, yeah, thank you for this lovely ask! you're probably gonna be embarrassed when you wake up -- don't be! this was delightful and i appreciated it a lot. once again, DRINK WATER. PLEASE DRINK WATER. my ask box is always open for you, wine anon.
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I'm watching The Mummy Returns and watched The Mummy right before this. I love these movies so much, like they're not the best but they're just so lovely.
And I'm also wine drunk on a Wednesday because I can be, (and I'm not working) And if I dont overthink that, I'm feeling pretty good.
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ihatehockey · 4 years
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I’m such a lightweight it’s embarrassing. Y’all ever been wine drunk? Tell me abt it.
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tteokdoroki · 3 years
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## new file ! -> birthday boy blowjob.
— re: denki kaminari.
— a/n: happy denki day best friends, i threw together this little last minute thirst for the bday boy because i love him so bad !! i hope you like the new way i set out drabbles? im just trying it out and if all goes well, and you guys like it i’ll keep it!! also thanks to @bakugous-trauma for beta reading !!
— cw: smut, mdni 18+, blowjobs, fingering ( reader receiving ), mentions of alcohol and smoking weed, face and throat fucking, cum facials. reader has no pronouns but female anatomy is described.
— wc: 1.3K
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all denki kaminari wanted for his birthday; was some good fuckin’ head.
sloppy toppy, messy, slobbery, good old head.
but his darling baby was too focused on hosting the party of the year— inviting all of his pro hero friends from high school; ashido, kirishima, sero, bakugou, midoriya— the whole lot, in fact the entirety of class one A was on the guest list to their humble abode. kaminari didn’t care for the parties, he didn’t get shit faced drunk like he used to and you wouldn’t let him light a joint in the million yen house he’d bought you anymore...so all he wanted was your sweet lips wrapped around his cock and a good fuckin’ nut to call it a day.
“but muffin, we’re always celebratin’ my birthday— right there, denki— yur always spoilin’ me, can’t i spoil you?” you’d cooed to him just nights before the big day, while his fingers twisted inside your hot cunt and his amber flamed irises focused on the way your tits bounced when you thrust your hips up to match his pace.
forgoing making you cum on his electric digits, denki had spun you onto your tummy— groaning at your fat ass bouncing all for him under the moonlight before he’d pulled your cheeks apart to slap his buzzing, leaking tip against your entrance. “don’ wanna party sunshine, just this sexy fuckin’ body, that maid fit of yours ‘n a bottle of—ohfuckyou’retight— and a bottle of wine…”
kaminari thought that if he’d fucked you hard enough, fried your brain just enough to make you sleepy as he pounded away at your sweet pussy— you’d forget the party and he could coax you into a night in with him. and you’d been so good too, cumming for him till your clit was numb and you were slurring like a drunken sailor but you still had the audacity to ask him what kind of cake he wanted while he cleaned the white seed from between your sore thighs.
he might as well have chosen vanilla.
so here he is, days later with a pleasant buzz to the back of his head— the man of the hour with kirishima’s heavy arm over his slender shoulders and bakugou giving him the noogie of a lifetime— so hard he might have created a bald spot in the sea of denki’s electric blonde locks.
“get any birthday sex yet, man?” kirishima garbles over his fifth shot of liquor, provided to him by one of his old friends.
kaminari shakes his head, swaying as bakugou lets up and the music pumps through his veins. “no, ‘m dying dude…”
the electric pro hero’s gaze lands on you— hosting his stupid fucking birthday party, greeting guests and chatting with his old friends and god, the way your lips move, lined with his favourite shade of ruby red, is driving him insane even from across the room. he sees you shiver under his sunlit gaze, watching you suck the sugar off of your finger as you line the rim of shot glasses with it. denki can’t wait anymore.
but the party can, it is his birthday after all.
so he grabs you by the wrist, yanking you from the kitchen to the bathroom on the ground floor and locks the door sharply behind him. “honeybun—!“ you squeak as your lover shoves you harshly to the floor, tile scraping against your bare knees, body shaky with adrenaline.
“m not finishing off my twenty-seventh birthday, without your lips on my fuckin’ cock, sunshine,” kaminari all but whines, the belt of his pants already clicking as it comes undone. his dick twitches behind fabric boxers as you roll your eyes and settle back on your knees, mouth instinctively dropping open for him— tongue out flat and fuck if denki kaminari had blown out his birthday candles already— this view would have been exactly what he wished for.
kaminari could cream himself right there and then from the obedient simper you let out when he finally lets his cock free— standing tall and proud, clear beads of precum oozing from his bright red tip— letting him slap it against your cheek. he can see the saliva pooling on your strawberry tongue before he shoves it into the warmth of your mouth, heavy against your tongue and stuffing it full.
you breathe through your nose, tickling his pelvis as his hair brushes against your chin. denki’s hands find the roots of your hair— tugging you into his awaiting hips and forcing you to suck on his pretty cock like a pacifier, salty precum spreading across your taste buds. when he moves, you gag like a pretty angel, throat contracting to accept more and more of his girth.
denki is longer than he is thick, and you do such a good job at leaning up to take him down— swallowing around his shaft and your pretty eyes crossing with how full you feel. “this is what i wanted honey,” he tells you breathily, leaning back against the bathroom door with a soft groan. what a fucking view you are, beginning to bob your head, smearing your lipstick with mixtures of precum and your saliva— even as you struggle to take him down. “didn’t want this stupid party, wanted my dick down your throat— wanted you chokin’ on me just like this,”
the party booms outside of the bathroom, drinks and music alike flowing but all that denki can hear is the wet sounds of you lapping at his dick, and your mouth occasionally dipping lower and lower to suck on denki’s balls, weighty with cum— sending him into a flurry of shudders and colourful curses as you palm his slick shaft. your bambi eyes start watering with tears when your mouth moves back onto him, lips ascending over the thick vein on denki’s underside and ruining the pretty makeup you’d done for your boy’s day.
mascara trickles down your face, kaminari’s hips chasing the relief he’s been craving all night, strings of spit and precum sliding from the corners of your mouth and swinging from your chin with every movement your boyfriend makes to fuck your face. you grip his muscled thighs to steady yourself, feeling electricity crackle every time denki thrusts into your fleshy cheek. you pinch him for air but your mouth feels too fucking good to let you breathe.
pulling you off of him by the hair, you choke as the air fills your lungs and oxygen crawls back up to your brain. you already know what he wants, sticking your tongue out again for him to slide his shaft across until the dam in his belly finally breaks. “baby...b-baby love,” you hum, as best as you can, watching eagerly for the glaze that falls over amber eyes as denki uses you for his own pleasure, vibrations stringing his cock. “they’re gonna be cutting the cake soon—“
“fuck the cake,” kaminari slurs, dizzy and unsteady on his own two feet from how addicting fucking your face feels— he can feel the pleasant buzz in his head stretch across all the limbs in his body, a tingling sensation forming in his toes as his belly burns bright with desire, his release creeping up on him just from slapping his messy lipstick stained dick against your tongue. “gonna make a mess of your pretty face, gorgeous, cum so much it cakes all over this pretty face, mmm fuck.”
and who are you to deny the birthday boy, who plunges balls deep into your mouth at slow intervals? his cheeks rose tinted turning bright red, golden eyes watering at every lewd slap of his balls against your chin until suddenly, globs of his warm and musky seed hit your face in warm droplets, kaminari palming himself to release as hot white pleasure flashes through him and his body haunches weakly over yours.
denki grins at you lazily, your face a vision now loaded with his cum. “happy birthday, sweets,” you mumble to him with a hoarse voice, licking up his release that’s smeared against your lips.
“hell yeah, happy birthday to me indeed,” the electric blonde heaves, dropping to his knees with a hand still at your roots as he coaxes you into a sloppy kiss— tasting his cum still sitting on your cupid’s bow.
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barzzal · 3 years
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between halls and thin walls → part four
summary: friends who fool around almost never works. almost.
↳ pairing: mathew barzal x you
↳ warnings: idiots, that’s all <3
↳ genre: fluff, angst, smut, roommates au, best friend’s best friend, friends with benefits, 18+
↳ length: series; part one, part two, part three, part four (6.7k), part five, part six
↳ masterlist: the barn
↳ track: my favorite part by mac miller, addicted by jorja smith, someone to spend time with by los retros
note: finally got myself to update this fic oml zzz quick psa tho, this will now be a six-part series! hope that’s okay and yenno as always, would love to hear what you think about this (validate me in the tags pls im lonely) happy reading babes! <3
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“Yo, grandma. Haven’t you had too much tea to drink?” his voice echoes in the room as soon as he walks into it. You carefully set the cup down on the dining table and looked at him exasperatedly. 
“Haven’t you had too much care to give?” you snark back, earning yourself a disappointed look from him. 
“Really, y/n? That’s the best you’ve got?” he shakes his head at your appalling retort.  What a shame.
You were good at pissing him off to be fair. You just weren’t in the mood to throw teases back and forth especially now that you’re feeling particularly vulnerable.
The week has been far too dreadful for you and you know that you’re willing to grovel your way into the weekend to finally have the time to slack off, not worry about taking a bath, and just go crazy with a pint of Ben & Jerry’s.
However, just like always, Mathew seems to never run out of ways to get on your nerves. 
He carelessly puts his stuff on the table, causing a fairly loud thud on the surface. 
You let out a deep breath, massaging your temple. 
“Somebody’s cranky.” he grins. Not necessarily the kind you’d want to see from him. 
You try to ignore him for a few minutes but you can’t help noticing how his build easily took over much of the space you’ve already been occupying. You irkingly look up at him, closing the book you were reading. You meet Mat’s eyes who just innocently looked back into yours. Waiting. Possibly plotting on yet another sophisticated way to toy with you.
“You’re a child.” you roll your eyes and return to your reading. He says nothing and instead rests his chin atop his enclasped hands, continuing to bother you with his ridiculously beguiling eyes. He presses his lips together before sighing dramatically. 
“What?” you snap, finally shutting your book down as you look at him. 
“I wanna go out.” he looks up at you in an effort to make his huge physique smaller than it really was. 
“Then go out. You’re a big boy.” you breathe. 
“You just said that I’m a child.” he coos, mimicking a five-year-old’s voice. 
“Stop that.” you glare at him. Mat props himself back and laughs, “Come on. I’m bored.” 
You open your book again just as you reply in a tone that Mat’s getting used to hearing. “Boredom doesn’t give you the right to pester me, Barzal.” 
And as an exchange, he speaks in the same tone rather mockingly, “And so is that attitude, Y/L/N.” 
“Come on, y/n. Let’s go out.” he now pleads, looking up at you with what seems to be his worst impression of a ‘puppy eye’.
“Fine.” you finally concede and you see Mat’s beaming smile instantly. 
“Where’d you want to go?” you ask as you take your reading glasses off.
“Dunno.” He shrugs, obviously teasing. 
On the edge of being irritated, you say, “Are you kidding me?”
“Grandma.” he mumbles before saying, “Do you have anything you want to do? And please don’t say book hunt.”
You suppress a smile and maintain your composure. “I’m craving for pancakes right now but I also wanna drink. Go to a bar or something.”
He nods in agreement. Already stitching his game plan.
“We can do both.”  he bobs his all too fine brows.
He didn’t have a hard time getting you on board with his spontaneity. You actually haven’t gone out in a while and the thought of a possible night out doesn’t seem to be so bad of an idea.
You’ve been with Mat to parties and while the two of you don’t mingle as much as the other guys did, he does know his way around the club. The dance floor, however, he tries. He really does.
For about an hour Mathew waited patiently in the living room as he scrolled endlessly on instagram liking a few photos and laughing at posts the fans tag him occasionally. His eyes were peeled away from the screen when he heard the door to your room click. His irises trail onto your body even if he didn’t plan to originally. 
Mathew, albeit dressed simply in his black turtleneck sweater and a beige overcoat exudes just about the right ‘swag’ (as per how he puts it) to stop you in your stupor. Although what you didn’t know was how you weren’t any different in his eyes. You were dressed quite nicely in a black lace bodysuit with a pair of blackpants accentuated by the black boots you usually wear on a night out. Your coat was slung on your forearm whilst you held your clutch purse in your hand so you could close the door with the other. 
“What?” you blink just as you look down to eye yourself. Feeling a tad self-conscious under his gaze.
Mat immediately breaks it off. He clears his throat, pretending to wipe off the non-existent dust on the accent table. 
“What?” he mirrors with an arched brow.
You shrug off his demeanor, snatching your keys from the accent table before putting it in your purse. 
“Have you called a lyft already?” he nods, absentmindedly scratching his temple. 
“You ready? You look— decent.” He says, trying to act casual and distant when he gives you the compliment.
Not noticing the unfamiliar look his eyes had, you return the compliment and say,  “And so do you. Good job for not looking like you came straight out of an H&M catalogue.” you wink at him with a grin. A thing which was then reciprocated by a deadpan look on his end. 
Before he could even come up with yet another clever way to come at you, you start walking towards the door, looking at him once as you motion the way by curling your finger.
“Haul ass, buddy.”
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10:15 PM 
Mat decided to bring you to the usual place he goes to when he wants to be alone and just enjoy a couple of beers while he chats with River, the bartender he eventually befriends after years spent drinking in solitude. 
The bar had a rustic feel filled with wine barrels in the corner of the room. The seats were leather (mind you, it wasn’t the kind that gets easily worn out through time) and everything looked new to you regardless of all the vintage stuff displayed articulately on the brick wall. A turntable was set on the table stacked with vinyl records, most of which were from the 70s to 80s underneath.
It was obvious that it wasn’t the kind people would know about. Aside from it being located at such a secluded street leading to the suburbs, it wasn’t the type of bar kids would want to hang out in. It only had a few customers and most of them wore suits and came with company. No one really gave a hoot when you walked in with Mathew, aka, the face of the New York Islanders. Which is basically the reason why Mat kept coming back to the place. He felt comfortable and at peace. Almost in retrospect to being at home hanging with his father. 
“I can’t believe this place exists.” you say, mouthing your thanks to River as he hands you both of your drinks. The man that’s definitely aged like fine wine smiles, nodding his head over to Mat who was doing the same before he headed back to mix another set of drinks. 
“Me neither.” he grins, reminiscing about the time he’s found the small pub by accident. 
“This place looks expensive though.” you whisper, making Mathew laugh. 
“Well, it kinda is.” he sheepishly chuckles. “River’s filthy rich.”
“Is he really?” your mouth falls and you look back over the build of the old man. The way his salt and pepper hair was neatly slicked back makes quite a compelling case for what Mat had just said. 
Mat eventually explains who he was. Apparently, he was just another bored fancy man who happened to love making people drop dead and drunk with his over the top mixes. His dark deep set brown eyes are quite of a crowd favourite too. Case in point, the group of ladies seated from across you and Mathew.
“Hey.” you absentmindedly call on Mat who had just sipped on his drink. “I know what we should do.”
“All right.” he puts the glass down, “Lay it on me.”
“Let’s fix you up with one of the girls over there.” you suggest, leaning towards his body so you could get a better view upfront. Mat does not move and instead follows your finger subtly pointing at the other end of the room.
“What’s with the sudden fixation of getting me bagged tonight, huh?” he smirks, shaking his head at the idea of having to go home with some random girl. You give him a side eye as you move away from him. 
“Fixation is an overstatement. We’ll be here long enough for us to get sick of each other.” you explicitly told him. 
Mat eyes you intently. Searching if there was even the slightest doubt in your eyes. 
Long enough to get sick of each other. 
He clears his throat instead and looks across the room. “Which one?”
A gleeful cheer erupts from you just before you look over the girls in question. “What’s your type?” you ask him, not sparing a glance.
Mat looks down on you underneath the bar lights accentuating your features. Your eyes had a certain glint in them that Mat still can’t get a grasp on. Something that was just enough to spark something inside him. He didn’t want to overthink it nonetheless. It must have been just the lights. 
Once Mat sensed that you were about to look at him he immediately turned his gaze forward, squinting his eyes a little pretending to check out the women you’ve been eyeing for the last minute. 
“I don’t really have a type.” he shrugs, casually taking the fragile glass to his mouth. 
You dismiss what he said at once, “Do I look like a child to you? Just answer it.”
Mat shakes his head, “I told you. I don’t have one. If we vibe then we vibe. Simple as that.” 
You did not believe him but you decide to drop it off. Instead, you look back and return to your new found mission. Across the bar, seated were three girls busy talking to each other. 
“Got it.” you tell Mat, nodding your head towards the clueless girl sitting right across from where Mathew was. “The one in the center.” you add. “The one wearing a white bodycon.”
“She’s pretty.” he nods, validating your taste as his potential wingman. “Nice smile.”
Your hand met a firm slap on the table as you went on cheering for him. “Well? Go then!” you give him a nudge, taking it back quickly when you feel a slight hesitation on his part, “Don’t tell me you need me to introduce you?”
He takes the remainder of his glass and shaked off the kick it had in his throat. “You just sit and watch, babe.”
You do as you’re told and lean towards the bar, your elbow carrying all your weight whilst you sip on your half-full martini. 
Mathew’s stance and the way he carries himself immediately caused the girls to notice him coming. Of course, you weren’t really surprised. You watch him approach her,– reading along the words leaving his mouth. There was an exchange of proper ‘hello’s’ as Mat introduced himself to the girls. He reaches out his hand and the curly noirette in the center gives him a firm shake. 
Mat’s eyes momentarily locked with yours just as you see their hands linger in the air— tangled long enough for him to make a quick segway. He winks your way as he sees you grin from your seat, shaking your head just after you felt the need to take a deep breath. A thing you assumed to be because of the drink. So, while Mat leads the girl to one of the empty booths and sits across from her, you call on River and ask for another drink. 
Mathew must have lost track of time by the second drink he shared with Zoe. He learns that she’s from upstate and was just on the island to visit her friends. She’s still working on her major at NYU; coincidentally in the same field as Lianna so that was one of the things they’ve talked about first hand. She wasn’t really into sports so Mat steered clear of his job because he didn’t want to bore her. 
“So…” Zoe smiles and tucks her hair behind her ear. “What’s the deal with you and the girl you’re with?” 
By the time she asked about you, only then did Mat remember who he was originally with. 
“Oh! She’s—” he looks over to where you’re seated only to find you laughing— no giggling with a man that was obviously a few years older than you. He’s wearing a neat black suit and a button down shirt with a couple of its first buttons opened. Zoe sees him frown, evidently losing his train of thought. 
She calls him with her sweet voice, “Mat?” 
“Yeah?” he absentmindedly answers, not wanting to take his eyes off of your hand that was now gently pushing the man’s arm whilst the two of you continue to burst into laughter. 
“Are you okay?” she asks.
What’s so funny? 
Finally, Mat hears Zoe’s distant voice that eventually took him back to his seat.
“Oh. Y-Yeah.” he apologetically smiles. “Sorry. What were you saying again?” 
She hesitates to ask about you after taking a quick glance your way upon seeing the way Mathew looked at you. Nevertheless, she decides to go for it.
“Aren’t you two together? I don’t want to come off strong here or anything. It’s just that I don’t want to get in between something if there ever is.” 
Mat looks at you one more time and as if you’ve felt his eyes all along you turn your way and meet his gaze. You shoot him a quiet smile, eyeing the guy sitting beside you, mouthing what he assumes to be an exaggerated “So hot!” on your end. He reciprocates your smile and gives you an approving nod.
Once you looked away, that’s the only time Mat finally answered the woman waiting patiently for his attention. 
“What?” Mat shakes his head wildly, blowing out air off his lips defensively. “No no no. We’re just friends. She’s my roommate actually.” he shrugs you off his mind and instead tries to put his entire focus on her. 
The remaining hours were spent with you and Mat getting along with your respective potential hook-ups. Not that it wasn’t the endgame either of you were hoping for at the back of your minds. 
He’s got to admit that Zoe was the kind of girl he’d be interested in. Another fact he’s kept a mental tab not to mention to you because he knows you’ll just get cocky. 
She was sweet and obviously eloquent. He knows she’s way smarter than he’ll ever be. But out of all those qualities, she was just as passionate at her craft as someone he likes to think he knows well enough. And that alone made a small smile creep on his lips. 
Nonetheless, despite all the aforementioned, Mathew found himself a bit more reserved than he usually is whenever he gets to meet and talk to his potential ‘lady friends’ as how you’ve put it countless times. He just wasn’t his exact self.  And he was beginning to question it. 
There were no fancy hockey plays thrown subtly into the conversation. Neither mentions of golfing nor over the top league events.  No butchered french pet names swiftly tucked in his sentences. And no endless questions that would eventually lead to something along the lines of ‘Do you want to get out of here?’
Well, not until Zoe’s friends got up their seats and she told him herself. 
“Hey. The girls and I are meeting up with some friends in Brooklyn. D’ya wanna come?” 
Mat’s eyes trail down to her hand now gently caressing his. He raises both his brows thinking of a possible ‘out’ because he wasn’t sure if it was a smart thing to leave you alone with a stranger. 
He hums, “Sure.” 
Zoe shows him a delighted smile before eventually sliding out of the booth to walk towards the bar she and her friends were formally seated. 
“I gotta use the restroom first. Please excuse me.” she gives him a nod before going back to chatting with her friends. 
You, on the other hand, see Mat leave the table aiming for an archway you presume to be where the loo was. 
“Hey,” you call the man whose name you’ve already forgotten. Your pause was long enough for him to acknowledge the chances that you actually did forget who he was. Obviously.
“Chris.” The man in his early 30s answers with a submitting grin. 
You shyly laugh, squeezing his forearm as you try to apologize for forgetting. 
“Would you mind if I use the restroom?” you politely ask. 
“No, not at all.” he replies and immediately stands to help you get on your feet. Gentleman. 
Once you are in front of the men’s room, you anxiously wait for your wingman. You hug your purse close to your chest. Not a whole minute after, the door finally opens and you meet Mat’s irises with quite a gleeful look. 
A look he wasn’t a fan of for he knew what’s about to come next. 
“Are you taking off?” you eagerly ask, almost hopping on your feet. 
Mat eyes you from head to toe, looking for signs that would stink from a drunk y/n. When he sees none, that’s when he decides to say that he was. 
“Mkay good. I’ll be on my way too. Chris is taking me to New Jersey.” you tell him, briefly looking through the archway to see if there were people listening.
Once you know you’re clear, you lean towards Mat, your lips dangerously close to the sensitive skin of his ear. Mat feels your heated breath sending a familiar tingle up his spine. “I’ll get to ride a yacht tonight.” you bite your lower lip and giddily smile as if you were a cheeky 16 year-old usually depicted in a coming of age movie. 
“Who’s Chris?” Mat, in spite of taking rounds observing you all night, finds the need to ask. “And why are you coming with him to NJ?” he further questions. 
“Uh– okay, dad.” you step back for a second. You let out a scoff, checking if he was being serious about it. “I thought we’re supposed to go get laid tonight? Weren’t you about to take off with that girl yourself?” 
Mat averts your gaze and starts to scratch the corner of his brow. “Well yeah. It’s just that— he looks sketchy.” he pauses, “plus… isn’t he a little too old for you?” 
You roll your eyes as you’ve already expected to hear the words from him. 
“He’s 31. He’s not that old.” you say rather defensively so you turn the ball back on his court. “And what if he was?  Didn’t you ask one of the moms out??”
Mat’s eyes widens and you try to bite back a laugh. He whispers with a biting tone, trying to save himself. “She didn’t look like one! I’m gonna kill Beau I swear to god.”
“Come on Barz. Don’t be such a killjoy. Text me if you need anything, okay? Wrap things up while you’re at it.” you say at once. Mat doesn’t get the chance to talk you out of such a stupid idea because before he even could, you’ve already planted a kiss on his cheek and started walking away. 
Mat waited for the sound of the heavy doors of the bar, signaling that you and your friend have gone, before stepping back to where Zoe was. She waves him near the coat closet. 
“Hi.” Mat greets her friends before eventually turning his attention on the unsuspecting lass. She meets her with a smile (just like what she’s been doing all night). The same smile, however, drops the second Mat opens his mouth. “Can I talk to you for a sec?” 
Zoe nods and willfully abides, letting Mat take her gently by the arm. 
“What’s up?” she innocently asks. 
“Something came up.” he says a little too fast than what he’d originally intended. He was going to let her down either way might as well get it over with and rip up the asshole band-aid. 
“Oh.” she says in a tone Mat knew that she completely understood. 
“No worries.” she looks at him with a knowing look in her eyes. “I’ll see you around then.” 
He gives her a kind smile and nods. “Take care.” 
Mathew walks towards the bar, catching River’s teasing grin whilst he cleans up after the bottles left on the center of the counter. 
“What?” Mat reacts defensively, taking a seat in front of the lone bartender. River faintly shakes his head to leave just enough curiosity in Mathew’s mind. 
“You’re such a tool, old man.” the kid says aiming for the cold beer River has put away for himself. River did not mind because he’s grown fond of the star player for the past years he’s spent going on late night drinks at his bar. Years that even justifies a proper amount of time for him to know the in’s and out’s of one Mathew Barzal. 
“I haven’t said a thing.” he shrugs amidst the already wide grin on his face. 
There’s wisdom in his eyes that Mathew has always admired. He wasn’t the guy who’d want to talk about what’s going on inside his head but with how River’s pub seems to be just the right place, he eventually concedes and takes a shot to pick on the old man’s brain.
“Come on, spill it out. I know you’re going to anyway.” Mat gives in, running his thumb on the moist label of the bottle. 
River wipes his hands before resting it atop the counter. “Well, it’s just that– I ain’t used to seeing you turn down ladies like that too often. And you’re definitely not one to stick around watching me clean up.”
Mat stays silent for a moment, as if to gather the exact reason as to why he chose to stay. He still has a long way to go before figuring that one out. He wasn’t exactly as sharp as he was on the ice.
“I don’t know, man.” he chuckles tirelessly, “I guess I wasn’t in the mood. That’s all.”
“You?” River shots a brow and dismisses him, shaking his head. When Mat doesn’t answer, he carefully picks on his choice of words and lays it down carefully for him. After all, Mathew should have known that River was old enough to not know what’s going on.
“Though I gotta be honest with you, hijo. Never imagined you’d bring someone here.” he starts. 
What must have been a shot in the dark for the old man was just enough to tear Mathew’s eyes away from staring at the water beads on the bottle.
“What?”
“The girl, Barz.” he says, banging on the head of the bottle to knock the cap off. “She a friend?” 
“What? Y/N?” Mat quirks his brows trailing off where River was exactly headed, “What about her?— Oh, her? Yeah, no. She’s just a friend.”
“She pretty.” he speaks in a sound accent, not wanting to let Mat know he’s growing to like catching the young lad off guard. Mathew nods casually despite the continuous blabbering. “She’s y/n. But yeah— I guess, she is pretty.” 
“Then what are you doing being just friends with a pretty girl?” River inquires, taking a sip of his beer. When he sees him trying to register what he’d just said he then adds, “Why not be with her? Date her?”
“Psh. What? Date y/n? That’s crazy.” Mat shakes his head furiously, “You’re crazy.” 
“What’s so crazy about that?” River takes offense, laughing at the child’s naivete. 
“I can’t date her. I mean— I won’t date her.” he takes the bottle to his mouth, taking a large gulp before continuing, “We’re in this weird relationship thing. A setup, actually, and it’s— it’s crazier than dating her. I swear, you of all people won’t get it.” 
“What makes you think I can’t?” he smirks, “I’ve had my fair share of crazy.” River points out despite the hesitation in Mat’s eyes. “I got all night, kid.” he adds, letting him have the floor to himself. 
“You really want in on this?” he second guesses, not wanting to bore the man with his personal life.
River leans against the brass counter just below the lit rack of vintage scotch displayed on the bar. He then gestures him to give a piece of his mind and Mat finally submits to his offer.
“We’ve been in a few… prior engagements,” he starts trying to find the appropriate word. “Well, sort of.”
River hums, not necessarily getting on the same page as him so he decides to be upfront about it.
“We’ve… slept together.” he confesses.
“So you used to date her?” the old man asks. 
“No.” he answers, “I told you we’re just friends.” 
With furrowed brows, River takes a minute. And once Mat hears an all too familiar “Oh.” he sees him break a chuckle, shaking his head at the thought of what Mat had just told him. “You kids have way too much fun these days.”
Mathew shrugs, “Hey, I warned you. Told you you wouldn’t get it.”
“Okay, make me understand something here. You two sleep together, fool around, do all that shit.” he says, “and you swear you’re not in a relationship?”
“Nope.” Mat answers with pride, popping out the word with a hard ‘p’.
“Huh.” River clicks his tongue, “How long have you two been… engaged?” 
He rolls his eyes when River uses his word, “About two months.” he answers shortly.
“Is she seeing anyone since you two started this thing? You know, casual dates, the ones I presume she’s been getting before you got her into this mess?” he asks him in a tone that only fathers would ever dare to use.
Mat thinks for a moment, trying to recall the last time he’s seen a guy pick you up for dinner besides the old man you’ve successfully bagged for the night. He firmly shakes his head no and simply says, “At least not in my recollection.”
River willfully nods, walking Mat right into the trap. “Well have you been seeing anyone lately?” he asks again, this time slipping a hint of assertion. He hears a crystal clear ‘no’ from the forward and that’s when he broke a goading grin. 
“And you’re telling me you two aren’t together?” he asks yet again, getting on Mat's nerves as he continues to flood him with biting queries, building up the final point he was about to break on Mathew.
“Rivs, for the hundredth time, no. We are not.” he clarifies. 
Mat watches River pour himself a glass of scotch, still wearing a smug grin. “Imma give you a piece of advice, yeah?” he smiles rather teasingly and doesn’t wait for Mat to rebut, “I’m a happily married man so I don’t know a single squat about dating nowadays, but if you’re telling me that you kids aren’t sleeping with anyone else but yourselves? Looks like a damn relationship to me.”
With his brows all quirked in confusion (and denial in the very least), Mathew gathers all his might just so he could refute whatever madness River was trying to inflict on him and screw him up in the head. But before he could even open his mouth, the sound of the heavy doors was all it took to tear up both River’s and Mat’s attention.
“Hi.” you say the moment you were welcomed by unsuspecting men talking by the bar. River acknowledges you by raising his drink, his gaze landing on Mat the moment yours did. 
“Hi.” Mathew mirrors you in an attempt to drown his already racing heart. A smile impending to break loose at any moment but he manages to suppress it. Instead of dealing with his adrenaline, he gestures for you to take a seat beside him. 
“Where’s the sugar daddy?” he laughs the moment you drag yourself from across the room, mocking every word he said. 
“His wife called when I got into his car.” you cringe.
“Oof. Lovely.” Mat makes the distinct expression on his face just before the two of you share a laugh.
“He’s not very smooth with adultery. He needs more practice.” you casually state sarcastically, clicking your tongue. 
As you find the narrative funny, you take a sip on Mathew’s beer. “How are you not drunk? You’ve been drinking way too much the entire night.”
“Well. I’ve got some things to think about—” he cuts himself off upon seeing your mouth ajar, “And no, you’re not allowed to ask because none of it concerns you.” 
“I wasn’t going to.” you dismiss him, excusing yourself to River which he gladly took as his cue to leave.
When he disappeared into the kitchen, you turned your gaze on your friend wearing another one of your mischievous grins, “Hey, wanna get pancakes?” 
“Y/N, it’s almost 3 AM.” Mat sighs, the tiring night starting to creep up to him. 
“So?” you question, swatting his hand away when you catch him checking on his watch. 
“Come on. Stop drinking that.” you insist and take the bottle from his hand before putting it over to the side. 
The two of you said your goodbyes to the lone bartender who was just starting to clean up again. River gives the two of you a nod of acknowledgement before landing a knowing look on Mathew. One that he’s thankful enough not to be discerned by you. 
As you walk alongside Mathew, he unconsciously places a hand on the small of your back— feeling it graze on the fabric of your coat as if to guide you towards the door in an almost romantic type of way. Perhaps, a way someone would behave if they were actually in a relationship. 
Mat notices your body tense but he doesn’t move an inch. Instead, his hand travels to the curve of your waist just as he leads you through the brass doors.
Once you’re out on the streets, he lets go.
𖥸
After almost half an hour of fighting over which diner is better to eat and get sober at, you and Mat decide to just try the new diner three blocks from your apartment. Being that it was an ungodly hour, the diner was good as closed when you got in. There were a few people inside and besides the student studying alone in the corner booth, the people lounging in the vacant seats were mostly just staff. Too bad they had to work the grave shift.
Mathew, who was rather preoccupied digging in his breakfast platter, gets interrupted when you call his attention. 
“So tell me,” you ask as you take a forkful of syrupy pancake into your mouth. Finally satisfying your cravings. You put the food modestly in the insides of your cheeks when you ask him a question, “What are you like on dates?” 
Mat disgustingly looks at you. You easily get what such a look meant and you immediately roll your eyes. You let your hand fall in mid-air amidst still holding a fork in it to prove a point. “I’m not trying to ask you out, dumbass. Don’t be so delusional.”
He puts his silverware down and wipes his mouth with a napkin. “Why the sudden interest?” 
“Just curious.” you simply say.
He hums, thinking about how he pulls off a first date. He then clears his throat as he takes you down that road. “First, I’m not bringing her to a 24/7 Diner.” you nearly gag. “She deserves a formal one just in case there won’t be a second date.” he explains. 
You sit there, nodding your head every now and then as he further goes on the details of how he’s like on a date. “Of course, I’d put my best foot forward all the time. Talk about her stuff more than mine and make sure she has a good time.” 
“Have you ever had a bad first date?” you curiously ask. To which he only answers with a stubborn look on his face, the one only Mat Barzal could pull off. “What? me? I don’t do bad first dates.”
“Oh, fuck off.” you flick his forehead as you laugh. The sound of his laughter echoing in your ears, drowning all the existing noise inside the lone diner.
But as the laughter dies down, Mat catches your eyes as soon as it falls on his. And just like that, there it was again, the exact same glint it had back in the bar. This time, illuminated by the pink shaded light lining up the wall accents of the diner. 
When he realizes that he’s been staring for too long, he settles on turning the tables on you. 
“How about you?” he props in his seat, “What are you like on dates?”
“You know, apart from the fact that you’re obviously into old men.” he snickers and you throw a curly fry on his forehead.
“Excuse me, I don’t.” you say sticking up for yourself.
Mat takes the curly fry that has fallen on his plate and proceeds to eat it. “Sure you do.” 
You roll your eyes, finding it hard to suppress the fact that you might actually do. “There’s a reason why women like old men, chico.”
He leans back and answers with a level headed and quite teasing reply, “And why’s that?”
“Because they’re men.” you look at him with a jerky grin as you continue, “And men, especially of River’s kind, definitely knows how to eat his french fry.”
Mat’s mouth falls wide in disbelief, appalled that you’ve actually found a way to pick up a stone and throw it straight to his face just to rub more salt on the fact that you had to teach a 23-year-old grown man how to eat cunt.
 “You’re an ass.” he says, rolling his eyes. You let out a laugh and shake your head. You were proud of yourself, sure; but showing just that is far too much for a boy’s already hurting ego. Who would have known humbling this man was such a task. 
“I’m playing! You know how to now.” you tell him, “Thanks to me, of course.”
He scoffs and takes a bite off his pancakes, “Cocky.”
“But you still haven’t answered my question.” he reminds you whilst he wipes off his lips with a napkin. 
“There’s not much to tell. You know I’m not high maintenance.” you tell him, ignoring the fact that you haven’t been on an actual date for so long you’re almost sure you’ve forgotten how to be in one. 
“I know it’s cheesy and corny but I do think it’s still in the littlest things, you know?” you sigh. Trying to remember the last relationship (date even) you had wherein those little things, the ones that are merely the bare minimum, were actually given to you. 
“You know, it’s not much, really. Maybe just a good talk without having to watch him watch me talk all night when he’s really thinking about how I’d look naked, you know what I mean?” you laugh it off, “I know, it’s stupid.”
The arrogant man sitting before you was silent for once, profusely wanting to wash the pool of melancholy he sees in your eyes. There must have been a shit ton of guys who overlooked how great of a woman you actually are just because they couldn’t stop thinking with the head in between their legs even just for a second. 
Mathew knows. And he hates that he’s been ‘that’ guy at some point. Probably until now considering him thinking with his balls on was the very thing that got the two of you here in the first place.
You take a deep breath, smiling. “Anyway, that’s better than almost getting with a married man. Right?”
“Right.” Mat laughs, his gray eyes bright under all the lights as he plays with his silverware,— devoid of how much he looked like as if he was utterly and undeniably in awe of not just the energy of the woman sitting in front of him alone nor the fact that she was by far the most unbelievable woman he’s known, but most importantly, he’s yet to realize how much in deep he’s beginning to be for the woman she actually were. 
Just as she is. 
𖥸
You left the diner a good hour before the sunrise and what must have been a quick five minute drive if you had only taken a cab, became a twenty minute foot race between you and Mathew.
You knew that walking was a bad idea but somehow, Mat’s charm and persuasive antics had a better hold than you thought you had on your very capable cognition. 
As you drag your feet into the confines of the elevator in your complex, you hear Mathew chuckling behind you with a firm hand securely placed on your waist supporting your balance. 
“You know— and not just ‘cause I’m an athlete, can I just say that you’re in a very bad shape?” he says almost a whisper in your ear, his voice low and deep.
You roll your eyes, leaning on the steel cold mirror once he pulls away, “You do it in heels then tell me who’s in a bad shape.” 
“Fair point.” he chuckles yet again, shying away. He presses the number for your floor before resting across from you. As Mat watches you catch your breath, he jokes in the hopes of breaking the ice between the two of you. 
“So…” he clicks his tongue, playful eyes looking at you, “Wanna tap?”
Disgusted to your very core, you let out a scoff just as you shake your head. “You’re fucking sick.” you laugh upon meeting his dumb grinning face. Seconds into laughter, Mat’s silence kills off the humor. The two of you exchange glances, the smiles on your faces receding into quietude. 
Mathew didn’t want to end the night letting you in the apartment not knowing what he’s been feeling the moment you’ve let him drag you out for an impromptu night out. And stupid as it was, the only thing he could think of was to slide his foot across the enclosed space embracing the two of you, nudging on your boot. You on the one hand were rather puzzled as to what caused such language. You send him a mental query by arching a brow. He lets his head fall back on the cold metal surrounding the elevator finally deciding to speak his truth.
 “I’m glad we get to hang out now. You know, just like friends do.” he genuinely says. 
“Me too.” you say, smiling. “I really had fun tonight. Thank you.”
As you meet his eyes, you see a glimmer of softness in his gaze. 
“Good thing I got bored, eh?” he says with a smirk. 
“Good thing I came back for you.” you reply.
A quiet smile parts from his lips.
“Yeah. I’m glad you did.”
It was a few seconds when you and Barzy parted from your respective walls to meet the sliding doors as it opened on your designated floor. You were pulling him closer by the tie of his coat whilst his hand was instinctively placed on your hips letting him press his body on you. Your faces were inches from each other’s, evident of not wanting to prolong the totally unplanned foreplay that’s about to go down in a communal lift. 
But just like every film you’ve watched your whole life, the inevitable cliché befalls the two of you when the next words that filled the enclosed walls you’re currently caged in came from the man who has yet to miss a morning jog. 
“What the hell is going on here?”
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hoboal87 · 3 years
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You Broke Us, Part 3
Title: You Broke Us, Part 3
Pairing: lawyer!Sam x wife!Reader
Characters: Reader, Sam, Dean
Summary: Now that Sam and Dean have reconnected, you must decide whether or not to share more an even more devastating secret.
Word Count: 1400+
Warnings: angst, past cheating, drunkeness. dash o’smut 
A/N: More warnings will be in the tags as I don’t want to spoil anything.
Here’s another part for you @superbadassnatural 😘
My Full Masterlist
You Broke Us Masterlist
Part 2
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"Hey there, sweetheart. Sammy's told me a lot about you."
You offer Dean a tight lipped smile and shake his hand lightly before he pulls you into a hug. You stiffen slightly against him, letting your eyes fall back onto Sam who doesn’t seem to notice your reaction.
“Uh, yeah,” you pull away and take a step back, desperate to put some space between yourself and Dean. “It’s good to finally meet you. Why don’t the two of you sit? Have a beer? Dinner’ll be a little bit longer.”
Sam nods, and he leads Dean to the couch, while you retreat to the kitchen unsure of how to proceed. You couldn’t have known that Dean was the bartender, that he happened to be Sam’s brother. You’d only seen one picture of Dean and it was from when he and Sam were little boys.
You were too desperate at the time, longing to be touched, to be fucked, that you didn’t notice the familial resemblance that’s now glaringly obvious. The brothers chat away, though you can’t quite make anything they’re saying. You focus on dinner, trying to keep your mind off of the fact that the man you cheated with just happens to also be your brother in law.
“Y/N,” Dean enters the kitchen and you can feel your heart drop into your stomach. “Or do you prefer I call you Janelle?” A smug smile appears on his lips. “For future reference, if you’re going give a fake name to someone you hook-up with, make sure that they haven’t already seen your real name.”
“I– What?” You can barely process what Dean’s saying as he reaches into the fridge and pulls out a couple of beers.
“Or maybe pay cash next time,” Dean twists the top off the bottle and takes a long swig.
“I’m sorry?” You aren’t sure if you’re understanding what he’s insinuating. “Are you saying that you knew? That when you offered to– you knew who I was?”
Dean takes another swig of the beer before giving a nonchalant shrug and your heart sinks even further.
“Are you going to tell him?” You ask cautiously. Dean licks his lips before answering
“No sweetheart, as long as you–” he looks into the hallway towards the living room and lowers his voice. “Cooperate.”
You don’t have a chance to respond before Sam’s voice carries through the house, calling for Dean. He flashes you a wink and leaves you alone in the kitchen. What did he mean, cooperate?
From the little information Sam had told you about his past, you know that Dean practically raised Sam. That Dean was more of a father to him than his actual father. He never did tell you why they had fallen out, or why he’d never tried to get in touch with him after years without contact.
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The rest of the night was, luckily for you, uneventful. Sam was so swept up in Dean’s return that he didn’t notice the glances that were shared between the two of you. Yours of unease, afraid that at any moment Dean might blurt out the secret between the two of you. Dean’s was of arrogance, the same look he’d given you the night he’d taken you to his place and fucked you with no abandon.
As the clock ticks towards midnight, you curl up against Sam, quietly listening as the brothers catch each other up over the last ten years of their lives. Three glasses of wine calms your nerves, just enough to take the edge off, and you come to the conclusion that if Dean was going to tell Sam, he would’ve done it already. A loud, involuntary yawn leaves you, and Dean offers to leave, but Sam insists that he stay the night.
You panic for a moment, unsure of how the sleeping situation will work, you only had the one spare bedroom, and you and Sam were still sleeping in separate rooms. Sam grabs you by the hand, helping you up from the couch as you wobble slightly from the fourth glass that you probably shouldn’t have had in the first place.
Sam’s hand falls around your waist, keeping you steady as you walk down the hall towards the bedrooms, Dean only a step or two behind you. Sam opens the door to the spare room, and points to the guest bath across the hall telling him to use whatever he needs. Through your drunken haze, you swear you see a fleeting smirk on Dean’s lips.
Dean bids you both goodnight, and Sam gives your shoulder a squeeze before walking you into your bedroom. As soon as the bedroom door is closed, Sam is pressing a rough and passionate kiss on your lips.
It takes you by surprise, but you return it with just as much excitement. Sam’s hands cup your face as he leads you to your bed, and you tug at the hem of his shirt, desperate to free him of it. He pulls away briefly so that you can toss his shirt to the floor, Sam reaches over to do the same to you, and within a few moments you’re both naked and falling onto the bed.
Sam lowers himself down, hovering over your exposed pussy before licking a tentative swipe through your folds. Sam uses his tongue to continue teasing you, working you into a frenzy before sliding a finger into your weeping hole. You cover your mouth as he adds another finger and curls them upward, hitting that special spot inside you.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you whimper as Sam’s lips attach to your clit, sucking hard and you grind your pussy against his face. Sam doesn’t let up, moving his fingers even faster, until you can feel your release coating his fingers.
Sam works you through your orgasm, and places a kiss on either of your thighs before climbing back up to meet you face to face. There’s a shine on his lips and you pull his head down letting your lips meet again, and you can taste the tangy remnants of your orgasm on his lips.
You squirm under him as he ruts his cock through your folds. You reach down, grabbing his rock-hard cock and notch the spongy head inside your pussy. Sam slowly moves his hips forward, filling you to the brim, as he latches on to your nipple, swirling his tongue around the peak, making you moan loudly as he begins fucking into you.
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When you wake in the morning, Sam’s gone, there’s a note on his pillow: Called into the office, be back by lunch. XX Sam. Your head aches from the wine you’d drank the night before, and there’s a dull ache between your legs. You lost count how many times you and Sam fucked the night before, and each time his sole focus was on you and your pleasure.
It’s still early, so you decide to sleep for a few more hours, only to be woken up by a dip in your bed and large arms wrapping around your body. You hum as lips place wet kisses over your back and shoulders, and a hand snakes around your waist and starts to toy with your clit.
“Mmm Sam,” you whimper, pressing your ass against his crotch, feeling his cock hardening under his boxers.
“Not Sammy, sweetheart.”
You immediately jerk away, turning around to see Dean half-naked in your and Sam’s bed.
“What’re– what’re you doing here, Dean?” you ask, rolling out of bed, and taking the sheet with you to keep yourself covered. “You can’t be here.”
“No need to cover up, sweetheart, it’s nothing I haven’t already seen,” Dean sneers, but doesn’t move from your bed.
“I’m married,” you argue, “to your brother.”
“That didn’t stop you at the bar, Y/N.”
“That was– that was different. It was a mistake. I should’ve never gone home with you that night.”
“But you did. Sammy’s been neglecting you for months, Y/N, lemme take care of you.”
“We’re working past that.”
“Oh, sweetheart, I know. You wanna know how many times I came last night listening to you and Sammy? And the cherry on top? Knowing I can make you cum better than my brother.”
“Leave, Dean, please. Go home. I won’t tell Sam about any of this.”
“Tell ‘im Y/N,” Dean smiles coyly. “Who d’ya think he’ll believe? The cheating wife? Or the brother who raised him?”
“Please,” you beg, “I’ll do anything, just go.”
“That is a poor choice of words, sweetheart.”
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Part Four
Feedback is appreciated!
This mini-series started with a request by @superbadassnatural​, if’d you like to request something, please drop me an ask!
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isaacathom · 2 years
Text
greetings bitches, im back for no particular reason except i wanna gush about last nights dnd session and im sure my gm is so tired of seeing me do this on twitter so, hi
tl;dr we fought a mind flayer and his minions, i nearly fucking died, afterwards the majority of the party got drunk on rice wine and passed out. it was very tense and then very cute. i love this group sm man
for... context? we are a fleet come to set up a trade relation with this empire, right. travelled a fuck of a ways for it. we arrived in this city of many noble houses. one thing leads to another and we find out that the city administration has been infiltrated by mind flayers in some capacity, and that they are preparing to take over the city. they're hosting this dinner with all the noble house leaders, which is also the first time the admins talked to any of these bitches in like, six months.
the night before this dinner, half the player party got arrested for various crimes, most of which, to be fair, we had actually committed. this happened bc we were trying to warn one of the houses about the threat and to beg them not to try and launch a strike against the *other* houses. we got out, but the OTHER half of the party had been forced to sail out of the city by the admin and had to sneak back in. we're doing great.
we manage to sneak into the dinner in three groups - three of us go to the house of inventors and ask them to help us disguise our warforged as theirs, since, well. kinda hard to hide a warforged. three of us go with the house of the dead, with my character posing as an "honour guard" and the others being servants (this made no practical difference but was because naielle is the only 'normal sized' individual of the three, with the others being an orc and a dwarf). the final two party members just fucking snuck in through a secret tunnel or some shit. superb.
so we get there, and it starts great. foods nice, folks are chatting. then the administrator stands up (under heelllllla duress) and accuses one of the houses of plotting an assassination, even bringing out a guy they caught earlier. and, like, yea they definitely were. fucking choke the house leader out, esp when he tries to also assassinate the admin right there in the dining hall. props for initiative.
then the admin goes 'also im gonna disband all the houses' and thats when We Fucking Move. because at least two of the houses present have actually alliances with us (inventors and dead) and, among the other houses - the assassin one has been generally on our side, the fighters havent reaaally but of the three present, one of them was on our side a while back, and the law clan is... complicated. point is this is the exact shit we were worried would happen and so its TIME. TO. GO.
and that battle goes swimmingly, mm, yup, perfectly. when Naielle finally gets her turn, she guiding bolts this guy in yellow next to the admin, since a) hes sus and b) her warlock patrons going 'his vibes are fucked' in her head and shes not one to not believe that. doesnt do that much damage, but it does show her that he's actually a mind flayer in a disguise, which is nice.
however the next person in initiative was one of this guys minions, he immediately crits naielle for 34 damage (her hp is 44) and then second attacks to knock her out. this was not the last enemy crit of the night. fucking terrifying
the mind flayer challenges the party leader (a commodore, how fancy) to a 1v1 duel, which he refuses outright. when he does, he gets hit by this fucker so hard he goes to 1 hp.i get resed by the party doctor and try to bonus action heal the commodore, rolled shit again, did some ~eldritch blasts~. the party paladin vaults a table and grabs the poisoned dagger that one guy tried to use to assassinate the admin and throws it at the mind flayer, and MAN. fucking MVP of the match to my guy.
then the commodore, a ~fighter~, just fucking unloads on this asshole, 6 attacks in a turn. half of them miss but he uses his funky spider bite to actually finish the guy. meanwhile an older man is beating one of the minions to death while they are both covered in grease, that guys son trips one of the others, its a whole shit show.
we finally get rid of all the minions, a victory! fucking hell! and the first goddamn thing that happens is one of the law clan bastards goes "... you were banished from the city!"
and my character, who is broadly a polite and friendly lady inclined to diplomacy, but who was also knocked out about 2 minutes prior and has a splitting headache from both that and the ambient ~fuckery~ in the room, just goes 'DO A BETTER JOB NEXT TIME. YOU'RE WELCOME' and goes to eat some of the remaining dinner food bc she didnt get any earlier.
the party manage to convince those assembled to, yknow, Fucking Believe us, and to rally together to defend the city from an oncoming threat that the admin talked about. also the admin is openly weeping. his wife, incidentally, hasn't moved the entire fight, and its cause, uh, ohhhh boy. she's fucked up man. like. the mindflayers fucked her upppppppp. its not good. so while naielle is, yknow, Full Bitchy Mode, she does go with the doctor to have a look at her and then sends a message off to the rest of the fleet to ask for someone with Greater Restoration, if we have one, because, well, she needs help and she hasn't fucked with Naielle at any point lmao.
we then get given a wing of the admin's place to fucking crash at given around half the party got hella fucked up (naielle was the only one to go unconscious, but a few of us got crit and, again, commodore to 1 hp). and most of the party proceeds to get sloshed. naielle, who does not drink generally on account of being a fucking lightweight, snags some wine from the dinner feast and then tries some russian vodka the party orc has. said orc then has her bf arrive and they go to one of the bedrooms. very cute.
Naielle then passes the fuck out in the lounge area of that wing. just. on the floor. there she goes. goodnight.
and then, right. cause im saying this as a joke, and not expecting anything to happen - naielle will just end up on the floor, mb someone will get her a blanket but like, she'll be fiiiine.
the commodore is a kinda grumpy guy. he's not very diplomatic, he's not great at being nice or polite, but he's a good leader in combat and all that. He's not exactly the kind of guy to show undue concern or affection.
He fucking throws naielle over his shoulder, carries her to one of the bedrooms in the wing, and then gently tucks her into the bed and leaves.
and i, the player, am just going 😭😭😭 aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa. like it was just very cute. like there was the contrast of the orc bridal carrying her bf to the bedroom vs my commodore just fireman carrying my drunk ass, but just 😭 it was really sweet.
being drunk meant i missed the remaining intrigue of the session, being the party warforged trying to steal and mutilate the mindflayer's corpse (long story). but aaaa.
that session lasted 6 straight hours plus 2.5~ hours of chatting afterwards about some of our plans for the next part of the arc and just shooting the shit. but it was so good. obviously most of my notes concern my character because im a selfish bitch but also, damn. like, ooh, when the commodore and the party rogue entered the battle, as the sneaking party, they actually dropped down from a balcony to drp attack some of the minions, which was rad as shit.
when naielle got crit, the orc was able to use a reaction (through one of our homebrew things) to get a free attack on the guy who hurt me, which was great, even if it did highlight why naielle usually hangs around the party paladin instead (he has interception fighting style, iirc).
aaaa. oh yea also the party dwarf, sorry i fucking forgot, she wasnt disguised as a servant with the dead party, she was hidden in a fucking incense urn, because the majority/entirely human populace of the city means theres no... real way to sneak someone of her stature in as a servant, because shes the height of a child. when combat started she fucking thunderwaved that urn, BWAAAAH, nearly couldve hit naielle but we positioned that shit properly. superb shit.
aaaaa! it was such a fun session. its our final one of the year for this group overall, and it was such a fun note to go out on. it was so hectic and so tense! like im an anxious bitch so the moment i got crit for over 3/4 of my hp (which is not! a bad! health pool! naielle has the same fucking health as the party paladin, shes not the lowest health by any stretch, her con is fucking superb) my life flashed before my eyes. like i had a fucking pit in my stomach. i was trying eat snacks and they sat like SHIT i was so nervous and nauseous. it was chaos in there.
i even went and did a letter pass on a thing, bc i have an in character thing where Naielle has written letters to three people in the event she dies - Her Commodore, her twin brother, and her fiance. its a whole thing she has, where she saw some ghosts trapped to haunt places because they weren't able to resolve things and she went 'oh fuck thats gonna be me if i dont get to say sorry' and so she's covering her ass with very sappy letters to her loved ones and also her superior officer saying 'heyyy sorry i missed you a lot and im sorry i lied and wont see you again, love you' or, in the commodores case, 'heyyyy sorry you put trust in me and then i fucking died hoooly shit'. its great. and as my characters lies unconscious im like 'ah well she wouldve had a chance the previous night to do a pass on the commodore letter at least'
except then - cause naielle has a hat and coat she wears. shes very identifiable by this hat and coat. and she had to leave them behind at this cafe in order to pose as a member of the honour guard for the dead house. which means the updated version of her letter to the commodore is... in the cafe... in her coat... because she would have completely forgotten about it. and so if naielle had actually died, unless the group specifically went back to collect her hat and coat and then found the letter copies in the inside pocket, the version of the letter the commodore would receive is an older version that isnt as detailed that he, or rather one of Naielle's retainers, would find in her captains quarters. its basically the same letter, because i like the wording, but its missing a sentence where naielle goes 'in spite of everything this expedition has been, honest to god, one of the most fulfilling experiences in my fucking life and i am SO sorry' which i think adds some spice. its a nice bit. obviously its more formal than that, she knows what she's about.
she has more letters to add to the three. when i told the other players about the letters existing, one did say 'should write one for each party member' and i think thats the plan eventually, but at the moment she's sticking to the ones she knows best or has something specific she wants to say. so NEXT night, after she wakes up from being sloshed and goes about her day, she'll probably update one or two of them and then add 1-2 more - her priority is the party paladin, who she owes for nebulous reasons she doesn't understand, and the second letter would probably be the party doctor (artificer). aaaaaaa
aaaaaa. sorry im fully rambling i just love this game so much. its my favourite of my current campaigns. i was so emotional. aaaa. i love it.
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illfoandillfie · 3 years
Text
5 Simple Rules For A Successful Fake Relationship: Ben’s POV
5 SIMPLE RULES MASTERLIST
Pairing: Ben Hardy x Reader
Summery: 14 scenes told from Ben's Perspective.
Warnings: A whole lotta angst and badly handled feelings. swearing, drinking, a little bit of smut/masturbation (18+) basically everything from the other chapters but from Ben’s side lmao
Words: 22 790 (oh god im sorry, but all the sections are separated so you don’t have to read it in one hit!)
A/N: I know it's like super duper late but here is the final chapter of this series that I promised! Basically just a collection of blurbs (maybe a few oneshot length parts too) that tell the story from the other side. Some are his point of view of things that occurred in the main chapters, some fill in gaps that reader wasn't around for. 
I had a lot of fun writing from a perspective I don't normally write from! It was a bit of a challenge at times but definitely something I'd like to do again.
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Taglist: @vee-ndetta @atomic-watermelon @kellypenac @labessieisallama @deakyclicks @jennyggggrrr @drowseoftaylor @hannafuckingsucks @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming @queenmylovely @taron-egrotten @johndeaconshands @borhapbois @stardust-galaxies
@coni-martina @hardforbenhardy @cubedtriangle @vicouscirce @arianabrashierstuff @pattieboydwannabe @maggieroseevans @theprettyandthereckless @friccinfricks​ 
“Pick up Joe, pick up,” Ben mumbled to himself, pacing around his trailer. The phone rang out and he let out a grunt of annoyance as he switched to text message.
I fucked up. Call me.
It was an anxious ten-minute wait in which Ben found it hard to sit still or focus on anything other than what a colossal mistake he’d made. He tried to go over his lines instead, tried to focus on the next scene you’d be filming together but all he could think about was you. You and how badly he’d fucked up. Finally Joe put him out of his misery. “Thank Christ,” “Sorry I was asleep,” a yawning Joe said from the other end of the line, “What happened that you needed to contact me at 6am?” “I said yes,” “To?” “Joe, I know it���s early for you but please try to keep up. I said yes.” There was a pause as Joe tried to work out what Ben meant and then realisation dawned, “Nooooo,” “Yes. I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking. Oh my god,” Joe groaned, sympathetic, “You said yes? To the fake dating schtick?” “I wasn’t going to,” “I should fucking hope not. After everything we talked about yesterday? After we agreed it was a horrible idea?” “I know! I know,” Ben had to pause to gulp in a breath, his chest suddenly feeling too tight to handle the oxygen, “I was going to say no. I came in with a plan to say no and it was on the tip of my tongue for the entire meeting. They were going through these pages explaining it all and all of the rules we’d have to follow and I was ready to say no, I was going to say no,” “So what happened?” Ben flopped down onto his couch, the one he liked to nap on when time allowed, running his hand through his hair as he spoke, “I looked over at her and my mind clouded over and I said yes,” “Did she ask you to?” “Nope. I think she knew what I was thinking through the whole thing, she seemed shocked when I agreed to it. Fuck, why did I say yes?” “Cause you’re a fucking idiot.” “You can say that again,” “I could but I won’t.” Joe exhaled slowly into the receiver, “Jesus man,” “Yup. You wanna know the worst part though?” “Agreeing to it wasn’t the worst part?” “I’m not totally disappointed,” “Ben,” Joe sounded mildly horrified so Ben hurried to explain. “I mean, I know it’s bad. I know there were a thousand ways to better handle it...sticking to the plan and asking her out after we wrapped being the least of them. But...I have date ideas picked out already. There’s this wine and art place she’d love and the ice-skating rink and I’d love to take her to that Chinese restaurant near me. And I’m kind of happy I have an excuse to look at her now, touch her. I don’t have to worry about if she’s caught me staring or if I’m doing a bad job of hiding my feelings because everyone’s going to think we’re dating anyway so what’s the fucking harm,” “Alright Ben, I’m gonna stop you there. You need to get this shit under control. I suggest going to a bar, getting drunk, and getting into the pants of the first girl who talks to you.” “Can’t,” “Oh don’t give me that bullshit. You’re not so hung up on this Y/N chick that you can’t think about sleeping with someone else, are you?” “Doesn’t matter, I literally can’t unless I want everyone to think I’m cheating on her. Don’t think that’d go down well with the studio or anyone else really. They’d crucify me for fucking up the plan after less than a day.” “Would you have followed my advice even if that wasn’t the case?” Ben mad a non-committal noise, “Probably not. I just want her,” “Doesn’t she have a boyfriend? I distinctly remember you whining about a boyfriend.” “Apparently it was never that serious. He was boring.” “You’re boring too Ben. Hate to break it to you but you’re dull, unexciting, tedious. She’s not going to want to date you either. Might as well give up now,” “Have you got a thesaurus sitting in your lap?” Joe laughed despite himself, “I thought this was going to be a crush Ben. Short lived.” “Me too. It’s not though. I can’t get her out of my mind. When I’m with her I don’t want to leave and then when I have to leave all I can think about is when I’ll next see her. She’s so wonderful and beautiful and kind-hearted. She likes pulling faces at me from behind the camera and she’s got the cutest laugh…When she’s nervous about a scene she bounces her leg. Every time. And she’s so sweet to everyone on set, always chatting with whoever is around and making jokes and stuff. I want to make her laugh. I want to calm her when she’s nervous. I want her.” “Maybe you should just tell her how you feel now. I know you wanted to wait until after the movie but I think that horse has bolted,” “I can’t tell her now, are you insane? If I tell her now she’ll call up her agent and cancel the whole fake dating thing and she’ll never want to see me again,” “Maybe she wants to date you too,” “Nope. She literally said to me she wouldn’t date me in real life,” Ben paused, thinking, “d’you reckon there’s a chance she might fall for me too? Like, with the whole pretending to date thing? Maybe I could convince her I’d be a good boyfriend,” “Don’t get your hopes up Ben,” “You’re right. She’s not going to change her mind about me. We’re friends and that’s it. And I’ve just gotta focus on finishing this movie and getting through the whole relationship without her figuring anything out.” “I don’t envy you, buddy.”
                                                       ***
It took Ben a few moments of lying in the dark to remember why he felt so nervous first thing in the morning. But the waiting message from Peter about what time the photographer would arrive was enough to remind him. He lay there a little longer, trying to prepare himself for everything, trying to convince himself that seeing you first thing in the morning would be enough of a turn off to stop him from feeling the way you made him feel. It didn’t work, the convincing or the seeing you. If anything, seeing you yawning as you left his spare room just made it all the worse. You, in his pyjamas. It made his stomach flip. He found it hard to pull his eyes from you as you drank your coffee, found it hard to not enjoy the sight of you in his pyjamas in his kitchen. You’d never been there before but you didn’t feel out of place. He could imagine other mornings, making pancakes together, you with a spot of batter on your nose that he’d wipe away and replace with a kiss, or else making you the first tea or coffee of the day and bringing it to you in bed, snuggling under the covers with you, your head resting on his chest as you talked quietly about whatever was happening that day. But planning out how you’d look for the camera was a sharp reminder that it wasn’t real, that you were only there because of work.
“And, um, he was very careful in how he worded it, but they want us to look like we fucked. Also I told them I’d take you home so there may be someone waiting for us there too, he never got back to me on it.” “Shit, okay. Umm, guess I’ll just wear this then?” he watched as you indicated the pyjamas you’d borrowed, his pyjamas, “might lose the pants though, help sell it a bit more.” “Yeah, guess so,” Ben had to clear his throat and avert his eyes, terrified that you’d be able to see what he was thinking, willing himself to stop thinking about helping you out of them. “What time is it?” He glanced at the oven, thankful to have even the smallest of diversions, “Twenty past eight,” “God I haven’t been up this early on a weekend in months.” “Not one for farmers markets or anything then?” This was a better topic. Boring, safe. “Not really. Much prefer lying in bed doing nothing.” Shit, “Me too,” he laughed, trying not to imagine you in his bed in just his shirt (fuck the pants they were too big for you anyway). “We’re meant for each other,” Ben took another sip of coffee to keep from groaning. You had no idea what you were doing to him and he wasn’t going to be the one to tell you. Not now at any rate. He’d killed any chance of anything happening when he’d agreed to this stunt and now he had to suck it up and deal with it. “Did you want to have a shower or anything?” “Nah, you can if you want though,” “Might as well wait until I get home. But I am gonna clean my teeth, especially if we have to kiss.” Jesus, the kiss, he’d almost forgotten about that, “Maybe mess up your hair too, make it look like you didn’t sleep much.” This is dangerous territory. “Well how could I when you’re such a good lover,” Oh god oh god oh god, “I know you’re joking but if anyone asks, I’m incredible. You came like three times,” “Did I now?” “Of course,” “Good thing no one’s gonna ask then, don’t think I’m great at lying,” Ben wanted to stop, wanted to switch back to talking about farmers markets and breakfast options but he didn’t seem to have control over himself anymore, “Besides, it’s not really a lie, I am that good. You just haven’t experienced it personally.” You poked your tongue out at him as you turned back towards the bathroom. As soon as he heard the door shut Ben collapsed forward against the kitchen counter, leaning on his palms as he grappled with what had just happened. He’d need to keep his wits about him from now on. Flirting like that couldn’t happen again, he’d been lucky that you'd treated it like friendly banter. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to drown out the voice that suggested you’re lack of awareness was proof of how disinterested you were. It was only when he heard the bathroom door swing open again that he forced himself to move.
“How do I look?” you asked as you re-entered the room. Can’t avoid looking at her now, she wants your opinion, “Gorgeous.” It was true. Everything you’d done to make yourself look like you’d had a late night just made you even more desirable. The messed up hair, the smudge of makeup around your eyes. He gulped when he noticed the undone buttons of the flannel shirt, just enough to tease, and the missing pants. Tell her you want to pin her to the wall and undo the rest of those buttons. Tell her you want to wake up to that sight every morning. “But do I look like I’ve been thoroughly fucked?” “Oh, right, ummm,” he gave you another cursory look, trying not to linger on any part of you for too long, “yes, I think so,” “I feel like there’s something missing,” suddenly you turned on your heel and stepped back towards the bathroom. Ben waited where you’d left him until, “Oh! I know. Might be taking it a bit far though.” Clearly he was supposed to be part of this conversation, so he followed you to the doorway, stepped just over the threshold, “What is it?” You were scrutinising your appearance in the mirror and he let himself watch your reflection, “what if you gave me a hickey?” Ben’s breath caught in his throat though he managed to stutter out your name. “Yeah, I know, that’s a weird thing to ask. Don’t worry, I think we’ll be fine without it,” He inhaled deeply wondering if your backtracking was a sign that you’d worked out what was going on in his head. He couldn’t let that happen. And he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to give you a love bite, though he’d prefer to be covering you in them. Slowly, he let the breath go again, “no, you’re right. A hickey will definitely make it look more authentic,”
“It’s not totally inappropriate for me to ask?” Babe this whole thing is inappropriate, “No, no, we have to make it look legit. Here, I’ll uhhh,” With another, less than steady, breath, he stepped behind you, close enough that you were practically leaning against him. His heart began to beat faster, his stomach did summersaults. Carefully he wrapped his arm around your waist to steady himself, pull you closer, as he pushed your hair to the side. He glanced at your reflection, waiting for you to stop him, to notice his shaky fingers and burning skin and to jump away from him. But you didn’t. You let him lean in, let him press his lips to your neck, let him mark you. He felt your own breath speed up, felt you tilt your head, inviting more. And then. It was only a small hum, but it had definitely come from you. He glanced at the mirror again, saw you had your eyes shut. You liked it. He was giving you a hickey and you were enjoying it. This might be his only chance to do that, to make you feel that way. He refocused on your neck, where his lips met your skin, soothing the fresh brand with his tongue. He could happily have given you ten more, was tempted to go in for a second at least. Instead he let you go, stepped backwards as quickly as he could manage. If he waited too long he’d end up saying something he’d regret. “Will that do?” “It’s great Ben really ties the whole look together,” He tried to match your smile though it felt like there was a warning siren going off in his head, “Good. Good. Okay then, I’ll umm, what time is it?” “Just after nine. Wonder if the photographer is here yet,” “I think I will jump in for that shower actually, by the time I’m done he will definitely be here,” he needed some time to compose himself before he even thought about stepping outside the door with you, “Make yourself comfortable though, watch some TV or something.” “Alright. Thanks for being so cool about all this. I know you’re a little sceptical about the benefits and everything.” “It’s fine Y/N, no need for any of that,” he forced another smile as you left but the moment you’d pulled the door shut it slipped again. Slowly he made his way to the tap, splashed his face with cold water. His fingers still tingled where they’d rested against you. The echo of your hum was stuck in his head. Your perfume still lingered in the air. “Fuck,” Ben directed the curse at his reflection, unsure any other word could sum up better than that. The fact that you didn’t want him was fucked, having you here looking the part of the perfect girlfriend was fucked, giving you a hickey for the performance was fucked. And the fact that he was sporting a semi from it was really just the cherry on top of his totally fucked sundae. He couldn’t go back out to you in such a state, especially not when you were going to have to make out for the camera. A shower to relieve himself was the only answer, though he felt bad about you being only a couple of rooms over.
With a final prayer that you wouldn’t overhear or work out why he’d changed his mind about the shower, he turned the taps on and began undressing, wincing a little as he stuck his arm under the scalding hot water. With some adjustment he was able to fully step into the shower, pausing for a moment to relax under the steady beat of the water before reaching for the soap. Of course, you were on his mind as he wrapped his hand around his cock and slowly started stroking himself. The way you looked in his shirt, the swell of your breasts just barely exposed, tantalisingly so. The hem of the shirt draped over your bare thighs. You’d make such a sight dressed like that, lying in his bed, the sheets tangled around your legs. Better still his legs tangled between yours. He thought of the hum you made as he’d sucked at your throat. On the verge of a whine, maybe even a moan. Would you whine if his lips were on your chest instead? What about your thighs, leaving a trail up to… His breathing was faster now, hand moving at a similar speed. We’re made for each other. Your voice, your words. You’d say it, half pant it, while he was inside you. Made for each other. And you’d hum that hum of pleasure. Your thighs, under his shirt. His arm wrapped around your waist, holding you close as he pulled your hair aside. What if you gave me a hickey?  The warmth of your body leaning against his, such a contrast to the cool bathroom tiles. That hum. Those thighs. The way you say his name. Made for each other. Your lingering perfume. Your lingering warmth. Your lingering hum. His name on your tongue. He bit his lip to keep from making any sound as he came onto the floor of the shower. It took Ben a few moments to right his breathing, eyes pressed shut so he could hold onto the fantasy for just a little longer. But he knew he didn’t have the time. At least you get to kiss her again. He rushed through washing his hair, scrubbing himself clean. As he stepped out of the shower, he wrapped a towel around his waist and swiped his palm over the fogged-up mirror. He forced himself to smile, tried to make it seem natural but that just made it feel more fake. Maybe you wouldn’t notice. With a final exhale he left the bathroom, heading towards his bedroom to find some clean clothes. Your laugh cut through the mostly quiet house. Something on the tv, a cartoon by the sounds of it, had made you laugh and Ben couldn’t help but smile for real at the sound. It made it all seem worth it. 
                                                      ***
It had been a bit of an odd week. Everyone at work knew about the relationship and Ben had found himself set upon by well meaning set dressers and ADs who were curious to know when it had started and how they’d kept it such a secret because “seriously Ben, no one suspected anything.” That was nothing to his friends though, who were shocked he’d never brought it up even in passing and who demanded to know when they could meet this secret girlfriend of his. “Someone’s gotta tell her about the time you pissed your pants at the fair,” “I was seven and had drunk a lot of coke,” “Excuses, excuses. What’s your excuse for never mentioning her before?” “I thought we were going to play FIFA, not talk about my love life,” “We were but that was before we all saw your girlfriend’s arse online,” “You can’t see her arse in that shot,” “Near enough. And we can definitely see the giant fucking hickey on her neck. Now explain yourself,” “Alright mum,” Ben shook his head, “I mean, you know I don’t normally date people I work with. Neither does she. We both wanted to give our selves some time to see if it worked, to make sure what we thought we were feeling was legit and not on screen emotions carrying over or anything like that.” “Well it looks legit judging by photos,” “Shut up,” Ben sighed, rolling his eyes, “I actually really like her,” “Hey, I have a question. When the fuck have you been seeing this chick? Because your down time is spent with us.” “Oh, umm, y’know, after work and stuff. I don’t spend all of my time with you guys,” “Uhhh beg to disagree,” Ben tried to keep his tone normal though his heart was racing. If they figured it out now it could all be over, “Fuck off I have a life outside of you. And just because I was hanging with you guys in the evening doesn’t mean I didn’t see her earlier in the day.” “Nooners?” “Lunch dates.” “Uh huh. Okay, lunch dates. She’s a good shag though, right?” “Oh yeah, fucking….great shag,” “You gotta give us more than that mate,” “Sure, okay, but first can one of you kill me,” “Boooooo,” Ben laughed as he was pelted with crisps, “I’m so going to kick all your arses, now hand me a controller.”
The week had also brought him a copy of your rules. He’d taped the sheet to the bottom of his sock draw where no one else was likely to see it but he could still have a daily reminder that none of it was real. Being around you made it easy to forget you weren’t actually his girlfriend, the lines between friendly banter and flirty teasing becoming too blurred. Of course, he also had Joe reminding him to keep his head straight. He’d called after he saw the morning-after photos. The conversation had started with Joe calling Ben a moron but quickly shifted into Ben ranting for close to an hour because he’d, that morning, heard all about the conversation with Felicity and how you’d spent so long talking up his prowess. He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry or scream. “Is this some kind of punishment? Did I do something completely fucked up in a past life and now I’m paying for it?” “Maybe. Or maybe it’s a lesson on why you don’t agree to something because a pretty girl smiles at you.” “Oh bugger off, you’re absolutely no help,” “Well what do you want me to do?” “I don’t know.” “I could talk to her for you.” “Mate, that’s you’re worst idea yet.” “When’s the date?” “This Saturday.” “Just keep reminding yourself you’re there as friends. Don’t get sucked in by the act.” “I’m trying.” Easier said than done, especially when he’d had the date planned for a solid few months. Not officially of course, but in the back of his head. You and him and a bottle of wine as you sat close together and painted. When he imagined the date you wore a sun dress and decorated your canvas or plate, or whatever it was he pictured that time, with little hearts and lipstick kisses. He’d make you laugh with some kind of joke and you’d lean your forehead on his shoulder. Everyone else would melt away as you looked up at him, still smiling. And you’d say something about how you should have realised you loved him sooner. “Because I do, Ben, I love you,” Which is when he’d kiss you, softly.
Ben shook his head to clear it, focusing back on the script in his hand, though you’d soon distracted him again. The real you, not the fantasy date one. The one who was bouncing her knee and staring off into space. He gently touched your shoulder, “Hey, are you okay?” “Huh?” “You’re jiggling your leg a lot which you only do when something’s worrying you, what is it?” “Oh, nothing,” He didn’t believe you, “Is it about our date tonight?” “What if it’s bad? What if we don’t look like we’re actually together and Mary and Pete have to cancel the whole thing?” What a blessing that would be. I might actually be able to get over you. I could stop imaging you in my bed, “I’d get a decent night sleep not thinking about us,” “What?” Shit. He hadn’t meant to say that last bit out loud, “I’ve been worried about it too.” You nodded, your leg twitching as if gearing up to bounce again. “But I think we’ll be okay. It’s not like we’ll be starved for conversation and we’ll have the paint and the wine and we’ll be fine. Plus, weren’t you the one who said this would be easy?” “Yeah I was, but-” “No buts. It’ll be a piece of cake,” Ben didn’t necessarily believe it himself, or at least not for himself. He was going to struggle. But you didn’t have any underlying feelings to fight. For you it really was just a good time painting, “they’ll get whatever shots they get, and they’ll spin it so we look like a couple,” “Yeah, you’re right. Sorry,” “It’s okay,” before he could stop himself he’d reached for your hand, rubbing the back of it. He wanted to do more, to hold you tight and tell you it would be okay. But that would be too much. Instead he rubbed your hand and tried to distract you, “I’m honestly so much more nervous about shooting that scene tomorrow.” “The one where we’re playing matchmaker?” “Yes! Have you seen how many names are in there?” “Theres like six, Ben,” “Yeah but they’re all repeated, and I know I’m going to get the order wrong,” You laughed. It was the best sound in the world and he was determined to make sure he heard it again on your date.
It took Ben an hour to decide on an outfit. He’d had one set aside but looking at it in the mirror it felt too dressy, he needed something more casual. He paused for a calming smoke and then had to brush his teeth again. On set he chewed gum after a smoke, especially if there were kissing scenes, out of politeness more than anything. But the small part of him that hoped you were treating the date as an audition for the roll of real-life boyfriend worried that it would hurt his chances if he tasted like cigarettes. Assuming you’d kiss. So he brushed his teeth again and changed into an outfit he didn’t hate and then worried that he was overthinking it and should have gone with his first outfit, and needed another smoke. Which meant he had to brush his teeth a third time. It took all his willpower to not ask the uber to pull over so he could have another quick puff. But then he was at your place and you were there and he wasn’t panicking anymore. Maybe it was because you looked jittery and nervous and something in his brain overrode his own anxiety to ease yours, or maybe you just had that effect on him. Whatever the reason it meant he could focus on helping you relax. “D’you wanna grab something to eat?” He was nearly positive you hadn’t eaten yet, too anxious. “Uhh, s’pose so,” “Has anyone ever told you you’re indecisive?” “I swear I’m not normally.” “Oh? Do I make you nervous, snookum?” Ben inwardly groaned. When the fuck did snookum become a thing? Why won’t you stop me Y/N? Please god stop me from flirting with you!  It was a relief when he made it to the McDonalds without any more slip ups and he could focus on his food and encouraging you to eat yours. He felt things were going well as you walked hand in hand through the bottle shop. He’d squeeze your hand if he felt you tensing up, make you laugh again, distract you. But then you had nudged him and pointed out the photographer. “Relax, he’s not important,” he said softly, pulling you into his side, trying to keep his own breathing even. Your face had paled at the sight of the camera, and Ben was hit by an overwhelming urge to protect you. He kept you as close as he could, soothed you as best he could. It became easier once you’d reached the shop and could get lost among the other couples and groups of friends, though he caught you checking for the photographer through the glass of the shop front. Ben hesitated for half a second before he turned your head towards him, “Forget the photographer Forget Mary and Peter. Forget our arrangement. We’re just two friends having a fun night out, okay?” This wasn’t the carefree date he’d been fantasising about for months. But he held out hope it still could be. If only he could make you see it. He opened the wine, talked about the art options, anything to distract you from the world outside of the shop. You took a little to warm up but he was glad to see you looking around the room as he went to collect your blank ceramics, taking everything in, and soon enough you were both contemplating designs for mugs, the photographer and the reason for the date seemingly forgotten.
Ben’s hope grew with each passing minute. The longer you were there, the more at ease you became. He got to hear your laugh again, frequently. And the conversation flowed naturally as each of you concentrated on your artwork. The design came to him quickly and he went slow, trying to make his lines as straight as possible and trying to make the engagement ring look like the one you’d spent so much of the shoot wearing. We’re really good at this dating thing. Part encouragement to help when you got nervous, part wishful thinking perhaps. But it was a quote from the movie so you wouldn’t read too far into it. He couldn’t wait to see your reaction to the mug and, as soon as he was done, announced it. “Alright, show me then,” Ben watched closely as you examined the still wet design, chewing on his lip as he tried not to care if you cared that the lines weren’t totally straight or the colours didn’t work. But as soon as you realised what the quote was you smiled. He found himself grinning as you told him how much you loved it. “Thought it was kind of fitting. Plus, it’ll be a nice little souvenir once the movie wraps.” “That was a fun scene to shoot. Best proposal I’ve ever had,” Ben turned the mug back towards himself, double checking for any flaws. He wanted it to be perfect for you, “Best proposal I’ve ever given.” He was on the verge of adding, “My real one will be better though,” but stopped himself short. That would lead to a topic of conversation he didn’t want to deal with. Not with you. Not now. He was a little surprised as you leaned in close and lowered your voice. “Promise I’ll get to keep it after we break up?” “Promise,” he said leaning closer as well. From the outside you must look like a proper couple, whispering sweet nothings as you ignored the rest of the room. His eyes darted to your lips. Kiss her. He could, couldn’t he? He could get away with it. That was what you were there for, to be a couple, to have photos taken of intimate moments. No one would question it if he just closed the gap, not even you. But he hesitated too long, the shriek of laughter from another table interrupting the moment. He leaned back in his seat, trying to put some distance between you before he lost his head again, “So do I get to see mine?”
Ben was nearly speechless when you did eventually let him see it. The guitar with the lyrics beside it. He couldn’t have stopped from smiling even if he’d wanted to. “And how did you know that’s one of my favourite songs?” “It is? It’s just the song I overheard you playing that one time.” That one time. A few weeks previous. Between scenes, as he’d waited for the cameras to be organised around the new set. He hadn’t meant for anyone to hear him, least of all you. But he’d been starting to feel tense and wanted to unwind before filming resumed so he’d gone back to his trailer and taken out his guitar. It was a song he’d always liked but he’d been listening to it more often since meeting you and it was the song his fingers had begun to play without him realising. Now here it was, on the mug you’d painted for him. And you had no idea that when he sang about the stun gun lullaby, he was singing about your laugh, or that you so completely had his attention that no other woman could compare. The song might have been written for someone else but whenever he heard it, it was you being sung about. Was that a sign to not give up hope? His heart ached with how much he wished you loved him the same. Fuck, love? He’d never let himself think the L word before, that was serious shit. But it fit. He was hopelessly in love with you and there didn’t seem like there was much he could do to change the situation.
                                                      ***
Ben looked up from his laptop to see you, brows furrowed, digging through your bag. “Something wrong?” he asked as you pulled your lips between your teeth, worrying at it absentmindedly, in what he had to admit was an adorable fashion. “Uhh, I think I need to go home,” “How come? If you forgot something I have a replacement here. What was it sunnies? Chapstick? A book?” “No, it’s not that sort of-” “Then what? You already have a toothbrush and PJs here,” “No it’s something else... I just think I’d be more comfortable at home today,” Ben tried to keep his voice steady but his mind was whirring with the possible reasons for your sudden wish to leave. Did you know about his secret? “Well a-are you sure I can’t help. We’re meant to be seen together this afternoon and if we leave now they won��t be able to get a shot of us smooching,” You chuckled at his word choice and he found it hard to repress his smile. “I’ll apologise to Mary and Peter, tell them something came up and see if we can reschedule,” “Are you positive there isn’t anything I can do?” You shook your head slightly, “if you really must know my period is a little early and I don’t have any tampons on me. Happy?” “Oh,” he began to laugh at your slight embarrassment, more relieved than embarrassed himself, “is that all?  Y/N, you’re not the first girlfriend I’ve had, fake or not. I’m a 29 year old man I can deal with talking about periods, and I can certainly run to the shop for you,” “No, no, you don’t have to go out of your way like that. I’ve got plenty at home I just didn’t think I’d need any today,” ““Y/N, I promise, it’s no trouble. I feel bad I don’t have anything here for you already. Been a while since I’ve lived with a girl and it didn’t even cross my mind. Seriously, it’ll take me two minutes.” You didn’t look convinced, eyeing the doorway to the hall. “Plus, if I go we won’t ruin Peter and Mary’s plan for today. And the Paps can get a shot of me staring at boxes of tampons like a good caring boyfriend. It’ll help our image.” You hesitated a moment longer, “oh alright, as long as you don’t mind,”
It took Ben two minutes to collect his shoes and wallet and car keys and then he was out the door, assuring you he’d be as quick as possible. On his way out he saw the photographer, getting into position by his front gate. He shot Ben a questioning look at the detour from the set plan as Ben hopped into his car. As he reversed out of the driveway he caught the photographer’s attention. “Making a run to the shop to pick up something for Y/N. Might be a good photo in it,” Ben felt odd talking to the man – a man who he recognised well enough, who had witnessed every intimate moment he’d shared with you (and who had been the catalyst for a number of them), but a man he knew next to nothing about. But he hoped that by leading the photographer away he was ensuring you’d have a peaceful respite from the constant intrusion of knowing you were being watched. The photographer nodded, replaced the lens on his camera and headed to his own car, following Ben to the closest supermarket. The distraction of communicating with the photographer was almost enough to make Ben stop kicking himself for not being more prepared for this eventuality. It was only once he was at the store, standing in front of a shelf of feminine hygiene products that he was truly side-tracked from his lack of foresight, and realised he had no idea what you wanted. You picked up your mobile on the third ring. “Hey, it’s Ben, what do you want?” “Don’t tell me you forgot already,” “No, I mean, what sort. There’s hundreds of boxes to choose from, I have no idea which brand you like or what, um…strength you need.” “Oh,” you laughed and described what your go to brand’s packaging looked like. He scoured the shelves, trying to block out the snap of a phone camera as the photographer got his shot. “Ah, got it,” he said as he finally located the right one, pulling down a box for you now and one to keep in his bathroom for future use, “see you in a few.” “Thanks Ben,” “It’s nothing,” he refrained from closing the call with a love you, instead just saying, “Part of the boyfriend package.” On his way back towards the register he detoured into the tea and coffee isle, picking out a box of herbal tea bags that said For Women on the box, hoping they’d sooth whatever cramps you were dealing with, and then grabbed a box of chocolates in case you wanted something sweet to snack on. The photographer was outside already, waiting to get a shot of him leaving with a full bag. 
It made Ben’s heart swell to see how grateful you were for his haul. He went to the kitchen to make you a tea and himself a coffee as you ducked into the bathroom. “Did you find the Panadol?” he asked, rattling the box of painkillers as you joined him in the lounge. “Yeah, thanks. I took two but I might need more in a few hours, if I’m still here. I’ll buy you a new box if I use too many,” “Don’t be daft. How are you feeling?” “Yeah fine. A few cramps but it’s nothing.” “Do you want a cuddle?” he asked without thinking. “What?” Ben shrugged, “I don’t know, my ex said that cuddling up with me made her feel better. But that’s a different- she probably said it so she had an excuse to make out a bit,” You laughed, “a cuddle would actually be very welcome right now,” “Oh, well in that case,” Ben shuffled over, patting the space beside him, and tried to remember that you weren’t really dating. But he couldn’t stop himself from pulling you tight against him and breathing deeply.
                                                      ***
Ben wasn’t drunk. Not properly so anyway. He was too much of a chatty drunk to trust himself when he was sloshed. He’d had enough to loosen up and to dull the ache he felt whenever he looked at you. And to leave his keys at the bar. Nothing a glass of water and some TV couldn’t fix. He’d lost himself in the show when his phone dinged, nearly jumping at the unexpected noise. It was a text from Joe.
WTF?
It took Ben a few seconds to work out what it referred to but then the afternoon came back to him, the last scene you’d filmed, the photo he’d posted. Shit. “Ah, shit. Forgot I said I’d call Joe. Do you mind if we pause the ep?” he cast around for a reasonable excuse, “We’re trying to organise travel stuff for him and it’s easier if we talk it through rather than texting it all.” “Sure,” you said, already pressing buttons on the remote. “I promise I won’t be long,” “Take your time, it’s fine.” Ben smiled though it slipped as he left the room and pulled up Joe’s number. He shut the door of the room he used when he stayed over, already sure this would not be a conversation he’d want you to overhear. “What the fuck is that photo Ben?” “It’s nothing,” he sighed, “just the last day of filming,” “Are you alright, you sound weird?” “We went out for a drink.” “You and Y/N?” “And the rest of the cast and crew. And, before you say anything, no I didn’t get so drunk I blabbed about anything. I do have some self control,” “I wasn’t saying anything,” “No but you were thinking it. Anyway, I think I’m allowed to have a few drinks under the circumstances. Not exactly easy being secretly in love with your co-star who you’re also fakely dating,” “Alright, alright, point made. But that doesn’t explain the photo,” “Like I said, last day of filming,” Joe waited for more and begrudgingly Ben continued. “It was our last scene together and I wanted to commemorate it,” “Thank you Y/N for being the perfect Edith to my Andy. And thank you @theperfectmatchmovie for finding me my perfect match.” “Y/N said it was a bit cheesy,” “Uhh yeah, little bit,” Joe laughed, “you’re not worried it was a bad idea?” “No. We got told to post stuff, which you already know since Y/Ns posted tonnes and you’ve commented on nearly all of them. Figured I should pull my weight,” “Someone has to keep an eye on you two. Stop you from doing something stupid.” “That’s what you’re doing is it?” “You sure you didn’t post the photo with that caption because you’re dying to tell her how you feel and this is a safe way to do so?” Ben scuffed his foot along the carpet, digging his toes into the rough material and feeling like a school boy being admonished by a teacher, “So what if it is?” “All I’m saying is be careful. You’re keeping two very large secrets and–” “Yeah Joe, I fucking know but I don’t have much of a choice here,” “That’s what I’m saying…look, I know you’re a bit of a romantic at heart but you’re also not the sort to get this hung up on unavailable skirt so I believe you when you say you love her. But don’t let it slip out because that’ll just make things worse.” “I don’t know what I was thinking getting into this mess,” “Neither do I. Frankly I don’t think you were thinking. At least, not about yourself.” “Yeah maybe. Doesn’t really matter though now does it?” “Alright. This is going to sound harsh, but it’s coming from a place of friendship. Just stop.” “What’s that supposed to mean? I can’t just call it quits now, the story is doing too well and Peter has assured me that the numbers are promising or whatever I don’t really know how they measure it. All I know is that people are going to see the movie because of us.” “That’s not what I meant. I understand you can’t get out of the fake relationship stuff. But, maybe you can get out of the other side of things. Just tell her. Intentionally, tell her. I know it’s not what you want to hear and I know you’re going to argue with me and say you can’t but why not? If you tell her and she admits she likes you then great, you can be together for real. Or, if you tell her and she says she doesn’t feel the same then she can’t get out either and you can be miserable together and she’ll at least stop hanging around you so much when you don’t have to be seen together and you can get over her.” Ben shook his head, “It doesn’t matter Joe. It doesn’t matter how I feel,” “I just think this whole situation…sucks for you. A mirthless laugh rose in Ben’s throat, “of course it sucks. It’s fucking shit man. I just keep waiting for her to tell me she feels the same but it’s not happening,” “Are you sure she doesn’t feel something, even if she’s not saying it?” “No I know it’s completely one sided.” “Is there any chance she already knows? You’re not the most subtle guy in the world Ben, maybe she figured it out before you were approached about the fake out,” “No, I don’t think she knows. She wouldn’t have wanted to do it in the first place if she knew,” Ben heard Joe sigh, “I don’t know what to say then man,” “I just wish things were different. I love being around her and being able to hold her and kiss her. But it fucking sucks that it’s only in public.” “What about now that the movie’s finished?” “I don’t know. Maybe not filming together will make it easier to stop thinking about her…I doubt it though. It’s not like I haven’t tried already. I spent the whole of pre-production and the first weeks of filming trying to get her off my mind and I couldn’t I don’t know how and I don’t think I could unless we literally stopped talking to each other entirely and, honestly I don’t know that I could handle that. But again, we’re back at I don’t have a choice here. I have to keep seeing her and being with her and being her boyf-” A door slammed at the other end of the house, making Ben jolt. “What is it?” “Nothing, I think Y/N just went to the bathroom or something.” “She’s at your place?” “No, I locked myself out of my place. I’m at hers. I should go though, we’re halfway through an episode.” “Ben. Be careful.” “Always am.”
Ben hung up with a sigh. Joe could tell him to move on or spill the beans all he liked but it wasn’t so simple. He slapped his cheeks and shook his head to clear it, pulling a smile back onto his face as he headed back to the living room. He was a little surprised to see the room empty but settled himself on the couch once again, pulling a throw blanket over himself. It smelt like you. Without thinking he pulled up Instagram on his phone and revisited the photo. You’d commented on it, less cheesy but there were heart emojis strewn throughout. A similar sentiment to his original caption. He sighed and shook his head, clicking out of the app to find something else to read until you returned. The sound of your footsteps drew his attention. Something had changed. You looked pale and unwell. “Are you okay?” “Fine, thanks. Just tired. Might call it quits after this ep.” He didn’t think you’d drunk that much but maybe it was just starting to catch up with you now. Then again, it had been a long and emotional day. You had every right to be wiped out by it and especially now that you were home with no filming or celebrating to distract you from how exhausting it all was. He offered you a spot under the blanket in case it would make you feel better to have some human contact. Just for that reason of course, nothing to do with wanting to hold you. He shrugged it off when you refused and didn’t really think of it again until the episode ended and you went off to bed. He was still too alert to sleep himself, still dwelling on the conversation with Joe. So he flicked TV channels until he found something mildly distracting, a rerun of a dumb home renovation show that was easy to get sucked into.
When he did finally feel tired enough to go to bed he turned off the TV and the lights and began to tiptoe down the hall to his room. But there was light coming from your room. Not the yellow light of a bulb but the blue light of a phone or laptop. You were still up. Maybe you really weren’t feeling well. He wondered if he should check on you, offer to make you a tea with honey and lemon or something else comforting. Did you need tissues? A pot in case you had to throw up? Someone to hold your hair back? He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes and sighed. This is exactly what you shouldn’t be thinking. He glanced at the light under your door again and then turned and continued his path up the hall. But, after that, he felt awake again. Unable to sleep. There was too much to think about. Maybe the caption on the photo had been a mistake. Maybe Joe was right and he should tell you. Maybe, maybe, maybe. When it came to you that’s all there was. A noise interrupted him, you groaning and the creak of springs as you shifted in the bed. Is she having a wank? That was his first thought. Does she need help? Was his next. Dangerous. Everything fell silent again and he realised you must have just rolled over to try and get comfortable. He didn’t know whether he was relieved or disappointed. He rolled onto his side, pulled the blanket up a little higher, willed himself to fall asleep but it was out of the question. You shifted again, your bed creaking with the movement. Maybe he should check on you, in case you were unwell. Or maybe there was something on your mind too. Maybe he could help. It was bound to be easier to solve than the mess he was in at any rate. He was on the verge of swinging his legs out of bed again when he was reminded of what Joe said about trying to forget you. He could feel that need to protect you, look after you, rising in his chest again. That wasn’t helpful, it wasn’t what he needed. He sighed and stayed in bed and listened to your tossing and turning until he finally managed to sleep himself. Only to dream of you.
                                                      ***
Ben settled the bill, walked out of the restaurant and kept walking. The entire time thinking back on the days, weeks before the fight was due to occur. Something had seemed off about you. Or maybe that was just hindsight. If he had noticed anything, if he had ever thought you seemed out of sorts, he’d put it down to stress from auditions, trying to find the next job. It wasn’t always easy lining up another project after one had finished. He understood how stressful it could be, especially for an actress like you who was on the cusp of something bigger, looking for your big break. But maybe he’d been blind. After that dinner, after everything you said, there was no denying that something more was going on.
You’d been…not your usual self. From the moment you arrived. He’d asked if you were nervous, but he hadn’t been able to see any of the usual signs. No bouncing let, no bitten lip. So nervous wasn’t it. But you weren’t happy either. He had been though, happy to see you, happy to be with you again. Even with the looming argument. Truthfully, he’d been thinking of what would happen after, when you were alone together and able to just hang out or whatever. He should have realised things were going south the moment you told him to stop looking so happy. He just kept repeating the evening over and over, rewinding and rerunning every moment as if he could figure it all out just from that. Another moment leapt to the front of his mind. “So having a public spat doesn’t bother you but you almost lost your lunch over our first date?” “That was just because the whole situation was new and I felt weird about going on a date with you.” That had hurt though he knew he shouldn’t have let it. Of course you’d have felt weird about going on a date with someone you had no interest in just for the sake of a movie. But still, it had hurt. A taste of what was to come. “Are you nervous?” You didn’t really seem to care what he said. Of course, he hadn’t given you the whole truth. It wasn’t totally dishonest to say argument scenes made him more nervous than love scenes but that was omitting bigger elements. Maybe it would have been more truthful to say the concept of a public fight wasn’t something he was particularly fond of. But at the time he’d felt like if he’d said then he’d have ended up admitting that it was especially true when you were involved. That all he wanted to do was look after you and love you, not argue in a room full of strangers just trying to enjoy a nice meal. After that he felt like he hadn’t been able to get you to say more than a few words. You who was usually so open and conversational. You who he’d spent more time with recently than just about anyone else. You who he could always talk to, joke around with. It was frustrating that you wouldn’t just tell him. He remembers feeling frustrated, of getting short with you. He regretted that. But that was when he was sure something was wrong. He might have ignored all the signs before that but as soon as he felt you had closed yourself off, he wanted to know why. Wanted to figure out what was bothering you, what could have happened. A fight with Felicity? Bad news about an audition? Maybe he’d said something offhanded and hadn’t realised he’d upset you (god if thats the case I want to know even more so I can apologise a hundred times over). He asked about it all, wanted to make things better, but then you were letting rip. Completely off book and unscripted, even when he gave you cues to get back on track. He would have been impressed with your performance except he was so taken aback by it. Without thinking he’d reached for your hand. He can see it happening in his mind, as if he were viewing the scene from above. The way you’d wrenched your hand away, leaving his sitting uselessly in the middle of the table. And all he could hear was “clingy and needy” in your voice with such…what was it, disgust? Hatred? And before he could so much as open his mouth to stop you, you were gone. That’s not what was meant to happen. You were meant to leave together and laugh about it afterwards. He wasn’t meant to be walking through London on his own, trying to figure out what went wrong.
It was then that Ben looked up and realised he didn’t know where he’d walked to. He considered stepping into a bar with all the noise to drown out your voice, all the alcohol he could handle to make him forget. Clingy and needy. But he thought better of it and turned to hail a cab instead. What he couldn’t stop himself from doing was calling you, though he was left disappointed when it went straight to voicemail. He listened for the beep as if he were going to leave a message but when the beep came he didn’t know what to say. What could he possibly say? What changed? Am I really so clingy? What can I do? Closer to home he tried again but the same thing happened. He hung up before the beep.
As he was letting himself inside his phone rang and for the length of a heartbeat he thought it was you. But it wasn’t. It was just Peter telling him that the video had gone live, congratulating you both for putting on such a good show, being so convincing. He ran through some early statistics, something about how many times it had been shared already, and then followed it by saying they wanted separation for a few weeks, until the make up dinner. Ben listened in a daze. When Peter finally hung up Ben opened twitter. The video was easy to find. He put his phone down on the kitchen bench and moved to pour himself a drink. Maybe he didn’t have quite as much alcohol as a bar, but he had enough to do the trick. His phone was staring at him the entire time. He shook his head, moved the phone to his pocket and headed to his bedroom. His guitar was there, the perfect way to clear his head. He picked it up, sat on the end of the bed and, without thinking, he played the opening chords of that song. Your song. With a slight clatter as his hands knocked the wood, he let the guitar drop back to the bed, trying to dig his phone out of his pocket. The video was still there, waiting for him. Proof. It wasn’t a nightmare, it wasn’t made up. He couldn’t see your face from the angle it was taken. But he could see the tension in your shoulders, the way you pulled your hand back as if you couldn’t think of anything worse than having him touch you. And he could hear you. Clingy and needy.
Ben watched it just the once, unable to suffer through it again. It wass already playing on a loop in his head, he didn’t really need the visual reminder. And then he called Joe. There wasn’t really much else he could do. No one else he could talk to about it. Joe had seen it, had watched it, and he commented on how good it looked, how real it seemed. “I think that’s because it was. Y/N went completely off book. We didn’t plan it to be like that,” “Is that why you look so shocked?” “Yeah, guess so.” Ben gulped down a mouthful of his drink and wished he’d brought the bottle with him. “I’m trying very hard not to call her something beginning with B right now,” “Joe she’s not a bitch, she’s…I don’t know. Something must have happened, I just don’t know what. “Maybe she’s starting to crack? Pressure of keeping up a fake relationship is getting to her,” “Can you try not to sound too excited by the idea. I’d remind you I do actually love her and if things work out between us I’d like for you to meet her.” “You can’t blame me for disliking her when I get a call from you every other day telling me she’s broken your heart again,” “You’re such a drama queen,” “Fine, I’ll try to keep my dislike to a minimum. But could it be that? I know she doesn’t have the same baggage as you but it’s probably not easy for her either,” “She called me clingy. Needy. Why would she say that?” “Because she’s a bitch.” “Bloody hell Joe,” “Unless…” “Unless what?” “Is there any chance she knows?” “You mean about me? Come off it, absolutely not. It’s not like I tell everyone I meet about it. You’re the only person who knows.” “Alright, then it must be something else.” “What do I do? I can’t,” Ben sighed, “It was meant to be different. We were going to have words at the restaurant and then go home together looking tense and then laugh about it when we were alone but instead…instead I’m home alone with half a bottle of whisky and a fake girlfriend who won’t answer my calls. What the fuck am I meant to do with that?” “Just give her some space Ben. You don’t know it was you. It could have been any number of things. It might just be that she was having a bad day and because you were already set to have the spat, you caught the brunt of her frustration. She’ll call in a day or two, embarrassed and apologising and you can go back to pining in peace. Out of curiosity, what was the fight originally going to be like?” “Oh, um…We’d decided that I was going to suggest she meet my family and she was going to say she wasn’t ready for that and it was all getting too serious or something like that.” “Well, that’s pretty much what she actually said isn’t it?” Ben thought for a moment. He’d been so wrapped up in her description of him, he’d not really thought about the overall message of her monologue, “Yeah, I suppose it is.” “See, she wasn’t as off script as you thought. She just jumped the gun a bit and took you by surprise. I’d guarantee that it’s something else entirely and you just happened to be the unlucky outlet for her anger.” “Maybe you’re right. She did say that thing about pretending everything was okay and acting like we’re serious….how I love her more than she loves me,” “And you’re certain she doesn’t know,” “100 per cent. She’s never had the chance to find out,” “Then of course I’m right, it was just an issue of timing and you being in the line of fire,” “Maybe I should see her,” “No! Bad idea Ben. Really bad idea.” “I just want to be sure it wasn’t my fault. If I’d been less wrapped up in pretending she was my girlfriend then may-” “Stop beating yourself up. Just try not to drink too much and get some sleep. She’ll sort herself out and call when she’s less mortified by the whole thing.” “Okay, yeah,” “And for fucks sake, stay off twitter,” Ben hung up, feeling marginally better but unable to shake the feeling that it was somehow his fault. Clingy and needy. Clingy and needy. Clingy. And needy. The way you’d spat the words at him. The way you’d stormed out. He sighed, slumped forward, and ran his hands down his face. No, Joe’s right, it’s not you. But, as much as he repeated it, Ben still found tears clinging to his palms as he pulled them away.
                                                      ***
Ben looked at his phone and bit his lip. His eyes shifted back to the ocean of brake lights ahead of the car and then back to his phone. He was already running late and the traffic didn’t seem to be moving. God he did not want to be late. Not after everything that had happened. Not after you’d cleared up the mess from the fight, not after he’d made such an effort to be less clingy, to give you more space. Things weren’t back to normal by any stretch but at least you were talking again, at least you’d missed him. The conversation you’d had the previous night, staying on the phone to watch TV. He’d been surprised by your suggestion but equally as thrilled. It had to be a sign that you felt something too. People don’t just watch episodes of TV over the phone for anyone, do they? He was in with a chance, he knew it. But, in the hours after the episode had ended and the call with it, he’d come to one conclusion. He had to tell you. He had to bite the bullet and tell you. If he wanted something real with you, you had to know. And if he kept it secret any longer it could lead to more arguments which he definitely did not want. What he wanted was for you to understand why he’d become so attached, and hopefully, to reciprocate. So he was going to tell you. And he couldn’t be late.
As the car inched forward Ben made up his mind. He was going to be there on time, one way or another. With a thankful word to the driver he got out of the car and hurried onto the pavement, beginning to walk towards the restaurant. He’d spent all day feeling like he was about to have a heart attack, chest aching with how badly he wanted to see you and how nervous he was about your reaction. He wasn’t going to fuck up now. As he walked a display in a shop window caught his eye and he quickly stepped inside. The bell tinkled as he entered, getting the assistant’s attention. She gave him a up and down glance as she greeted him, as if trying to determine the occasion based on his outfit alone. “Welcome to Coming Up Roses, what can I do for you?” “I need a bouquet,” “I can certainly help with that. Any flowers you had in mind?” “Uhhh not really. Spur of the moment,” “Well what’s the occasion then? I have flowers for everything from weddings to funerals, I’m sorry to Congratulations,” “Um, I’m about to tell the girl of my dreams that I’m in love with her,” The woman smiled, “I’ve got just the thing,”
A minute later and Ben was once again hurrying up the street, clutching the freshly wrapped bouquet, his heart pounding as he tried not to worry about how much time was passing. He had to pause at one point to get a map up on his phone, unsure of the restaurant’s exact location. He was further away than he thought and quickened his step, threading through groups of people on nights out, trying not to bump into anyone. You were already there, waiting. He could see you from half a street away and ran to meet you, kissing your cheek and handing over the bouquet before he really registered that that’s what he was doing. It was only as you were smelling the flowers and complementing them that he realised you were there, actually there, and he suddenly felt extra nervous about it all. “I saw it in the shop and, um yeah, I don’t know, they seemed nice, a-and I know you, um, like nice things, so,” Ben wanted to die, wanted to be sucked into a hole in the ground, sent through a time warp, anything to not be there babbling at you like a fucking idiot. “It’s very sweet of you, thank you,” “I’m glad you think so because right now it feels kinda cliché and cheesy.” Shut up “Now you have to carry them around all night,” fucking shut up, “what was I thinking?” for the love of all that is holy, “And god can I just shut up. Sorry.” He didn’t know what had come over him, but he wished it would go away. And things only got worse as he looked you over, took in your whole appearance. Seeing you just made him want you even more, especially with how gorgeous you looked. He wanted to kiss you, tell you. But he had to be able to speak to tell you and he wasn’t going to be able to do that until he relaxed a little. A drink, that’s what he needed. He downed his first one fast, willing it to work its magic. It did help calm him, though your laugh just made his heart race again. Halfway through the next glass he felt like he could say it and was on the verge of just getting it out into the open when you were interrupted, shown to your table. He took it as a sign that it would be bad timing and that he needed to wait. Instead he focused on just having a good night with you. The memory of your last dinner was still in the back of his mind but he pushed it away by reminding himself that things were better now. He felt himself relax more as you talked and with every touch you gave him. The drinks were definitely part of it too but he put it down to you mostly. How much you sooth him, how happy he finds himself when he’s in your presence. He could breathe properly again. You startled him a little by saying Joe would want to meet you but of course, you don’t know that he knows that it’s all a big production so you just meant it in a friend-being-curious-about-the-girlfriend type way. Very far from the truth. But Ben agrees and changes the topic.
When dessert arrived, he thought maybe that could be a good time to say it because it’s the end of the meal and you can leave quickly if you need to. But before he get’s to it he finds himself asking something else instead. “Can I ask about these last couple of weeks?” He hoped he hadn’t wrecked the evening by bringing it up but he was curious too, “Was it good? The space, did you get what you wanted from it?” Ben worried at his lip as he watched you slowly finish your mouthful and set the spoon down. “Yes. I’m not going to lie and say it wasn’t helpful because it really was. Just, having that break from everything. I think I really needed it. But I really really missed you too.” That was a relief. Proof that you were on the same page again, back to normal. And proof that you did care about him. “I’m glad. It was hard not seeing you but yeah, helped me figure some stuff out too. Confirmed some other stuff.” “Like what? If you don’t mind me asking.” This is it, this is your moment, “Like, um,” He wanted to say it, had the words picked out already but, he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t risk driving you away again, causing another scene. Maybe he could say it back at his place, away from the cameras and the interested public. Maybe that would be smarter. All the same, he felt disappointed with himself for not having the guts to just tell you, and to try to cover the moment asked if you wanted to leave. As you step outside he remembers the kiss that was expected and he leans in to remind you. It’s more than a kiss though, different to all the other times you’d kissed. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t looking forward to it. Any excuse really. And he says as much when he, somewhat accidentally admits to having missed kissing you. It was a thought that somehow slipped out of his mouth, but either you didn’t hear him or you were too caught up in the moment to say anything. Or she feels the same. He pushed the hopeful thought down as you kissed him back. His heart pounded as he felt your hands on his chest, as if it were trying to tell you what he’d been too much of a coward to say. And then you whined and settled on his lap and god what a fucking gorgeous sound. He’d spent months getting off to the memory of a hum and now you were gifting him a whine? An eager, excited whine at that. The sort of thing he’d been trying to imagine and it was so much better than anything he’d come up with. Your hand was in his hair and he very nearly echoed your noise back to you from that alone, but it caught in his throat as you kept kissing him, tongues twisting, your chest pressed against his. He wanted to hold you close and touch every part of you he could reach all at once, unsure of whether to grab your arse or you hip or the back of your neck. So he did a bit of it all, slid his hand along your arm and then down your back and then to your arse. And all too soon it stops. He could have cursed that driver and the heartless car horn that interrupted and sent reality crashing back down around him.
Once you were inside the safe zone of his house, away from the act, he expected things to go back to normal. You’d take off your makeup and then make a cup of tea and fill a glass of water for your flowers and you’d wind down with something on TV before you both went to bed. He’d have to have a shower to get off without you suspecting anything because there was no way he was going to be able to sleep with the memory of your tits pressed against him and your whine and your kiss swimming around his head. But you don’t walk to the bathroom like you normally do. He pulls the wallet from his pocket, places it deliberately next to his keys. But you still haven’t moved. He turns slowly, notices the way you swallow and lick your lips and he swears he’s on the verge of asking what you’re doing or saying something about it being a mistake, at least the thought crosses his mind, but you were standing so close (when did she get so close?) and when you kiss him again he just kisses back.
It’s a mistake probably, definitely, he knows that. He can hear the siren in his head again telling him to stop, pull away. But the problem is that it doesn’t feel like a mistake, doesn’t feel like it should be, and when he takes a step back you step with him and again and again until he’s somehow on the couch with you on his lap again. And why would he stop that, why would he say no to you when you fit there so perfectly and you feel so good? And all he can think about is that whine and that hum from all those months ago and he wants to see what other sounds he can pull from you so he drops his lips to your neck. “Wait, wait,” He’s confused as to why you’re stopping him and even more confused when you’re not in his arms anymore. “It’s rule one Ben,” Bugger rule one. Bugger all the fucking rules, you’ve broken most of them tonight anyway if they weren’t already broken. A voice in the back of his head reminds him what a big mistake that would be, but it can’t argue against making out. Making out isn’t against the rules and you know it too, you hesitate when he says it out loud. “I’d be good to you Y/N, you know I would,” he’s not sure if he’s talking about here and now, physically, or something deeper, something in the realm of boyfriend but what does it matter because both are true. You shake your head, “You know this isn’t real, right Ben?” And then it all comes out. That you knew about his crush. And everything stops. Just stops. He can’t breathe, air doesn’t exist anymore, and he’d say his heart had stopped too except he can hear it pounding in his ears, drowning out whatever you’re saying. You knew? You’d known for months? All those times Joe had suggested it, all that time he spent worrying about keeping it from you and you already fucking knew? And then everything seems to speed up all at once. The air rushes back, as loud as his heart, which only doubles it’s pounding until he can feel it trying to punch a hole through his chest and escape. Rational thought returns, connecting dots and drawing conclusions almost faster than he can keep up. “Is that why you were upset before the argument? Is that why you didn’t want to see me for the last two weeks?” “I thought some space might help you stop feeling that way.” He has to laugh at how fucking ridiculous an idea that is. That space would have ever helped him purge you from his system. Love isn’t that easy to get rid of. And his tongue must have sped up with the rest of his body because he’s saying it, the thing he’s been putting of saying, the thing he’s been wanting to tell you all night, and he wishes he could stop because this isn’t how he wanted it to go. This wasn’t how you were meant to find out. But no matter how much he screams at himself he can’t take it back. It’s out there. And you look horrified. “You love me?” Three words have never been spoken with more contempt than you managed to cram into that once sentence. “You don’t have to say you don’t feel the same, I know.” Your silence cuts through him like a knife, shredding what little hope remained. His heart isn’t beating against his chest anymore. It’s been kicked across the room and lies lifeless against the wall.  “That’s what I thought.”
He can’t be here anymore, can’t look at you. He wants to leave but he remembers all the cameras outside, reminds you of their presence in case you’re planning the same escape he is. He’s trapped there and so are you. So he puts as much space between you as he can, heads to his room and slumps heavily onto the end of his bed. All he can think about is those three words, you love me? Not a hopeful question. Not even stunned surprise.  More of an accusation. He tastes blood but otherwise barely notices when he tears his lip with his teeth. You must hate him for getting you both into this mess. He hates that he’s done it, that he’s put you in this position. And he knows you’re never going to want to speak with him let alone see him again. And he knows that as soon as the cameras leave, you’ll leave too. And that thought hurts just as much as everything else. You’re moving about, he can hear you walking around. It sounds like you’re pacing. Five steps and then a turn and then five more steps, another turn. Something about the rhythm breaks through his overactive, panicking, worrying mind. Something about it calms him. Maybe it’s that knowing you’re restless and agitated makes him want to comfort you, despite everything he’s feeling. Or maybe it’s just because the sound of your footfall means you’re still here. And if you’re still here then maybe he can smooth things over. He doesn’t expect to fix everything. He’d understand if you still wanted to erase him from your contacts and pretend you were only ever colleagues. But if he can just explain himself, explain that he never meant for this to happen, explain why he kept it from you or tried to anyway and maybe explain what he’d wanted tonight to be instead of the clusterfuck it’d become. If he can get any of that out then maybe you won’t hate him quite so much.
He says your name softly, not sure he’s allowed to say your name, “I heard you pacing.” “Sorry, I’ll keep the noise down.” “No, that’s not- it’s okay. I just thought, since we’re both clearly awake and since they haven’t left yet, I thought you might like a cuppa.” “I didn’t think you drank tea,” Have you really not noticed yet? He never bought tea bags, until you started coming to stay over regularly. Twice you opined about not being able to have a cup of tea before bed and that was all it took for him to start keeping them in his cupboard along with the biscuits you prefer. That’s how he knows it’s love. He took a breath as he pulled out mugs and stuck the kettle on, resolutely not looking at you. If he looks at you he’ll spill his guts and won’t be able to stop. He has to make tea first. Just the way you like it. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier.” It comes out the second he looks at your face and it’s only that you’re telling him you understand that he doesn’t immediately say more. He drops his eyes to the brown liquid in his mug, undrinkable in his opinion, but a perfectly adequate distraction. He needs to get the words right this time. No stumbling and stuttering, no blurting things out without thinking. He needs to say it right so you’ll listen and understand what he’s trying to do. “I promise I understand where you’re at and I’m not going to try and convince you or to chase you or anything like that. I really am trying not to feel this way.” He glances back at your eyes, terrified of what he’d see there. “It’s okay Ben, I know you wouldn’t. I just wasn’t expecting you to drop the L bomb.” “Please don’t hate me,” it’s a whisper compared to everything else he’s said but there’s no way to make his voice stronger. It’s the thing he’s most worried about and admitting it out loud to you is harder than he imagined it would be. “I could never,” the sincerity with which you say it is almost enough to make him cry but the hug is what pushes him over the edge. It’s more warmth and kindness than he thinks he deserves after everything he’s done. And it’s exactly what he needed. Comfort and reassurance in one simple gesture. He wraps his arms around you for the third time that night, his face pressed into the cook of your neck, and you let him, squeezing back, as he lets everything out.
                                                        ***
The night after you met Joe, Ben visits him again, this time without you. It had always been the plan, to see Joe a few times, as much as the press circuit would allow, while he was in the US. But after the previous night it’s more necessary. And yet, Ben was struggling to vocalise any of his questions. It’s not until after dinner, when Joe suggests they take their drinks out onto the veranda, that any of it comes up. It’s peaceful out there, sitting in the cool night air, each of them taking turns to swig from their beer bottle as they talk. But Ben’s mind is constantly disrupted with thoughts of you. It’s the first time since all the promotion stuff started that he’s had more than a couple of minutes away from your side. Joe isn’t helping, constantly glancing at Ben, frowning, as if he’s trying to work something out. But he’s the first to crack, making it easier for Ben to talk. “How’s it going?” “Press is fine, bit boring. You know how repetitive it can get,” “And you know that’s not what I meant,” “Yeah. Nah, everything’s fine. Mostly,” “Mostly?” “It’s not easy having to share a room with her. I mean, it’s fun though. I’m glad she’s the one I’m doing all this shit with. We’re mates and we’ve been working so closely for so long now that we…get each other. Like there was this interview where one of the questions made me uncomfortable and she knew straight away and broke in to take some of the heat. She just says whatever she can to make me laugh or ease the tension or whatever will help. And I know when she’s getting nervous and needs a break or a fresh cuppa. But when it’s just us in our suite it’s…hard. I don’t know, I’m just trying to keep some distance even though there’s not much to be had. What did you think of her?” “Honestly?” “Of course,” “She’s perfect for you. Except for the not being interested part.” Ben nodded, letting his eyes fall to where his fingernail was digging into the label on his bottle. “Although…” “What?” Ben looked back at Joe, “You think she might be?” “I don’t know. And I don’t want to get your hopes up. She certainly doesn’t think she is. I asked her about it while you were out here last night and she was adamant that she doesn’t think of you that way but that’s not how it looked to me.” “We had a moment yesterday. Just before we came here. Nearly kissed.” “Seriously? Again?” “I stopped it. Kind of wish I hadn’t. Maybe if something happened, she’d change her mind,” “I know I’m not part of this situation and I wasn’t there and can only go off of what you’ve said and the one time I’ve met her but, for what it’s worth, I think you made the right call.” “Yeah?” “I don’t think you want anything to happen with her until you’re both more sure where you stand. Definitely not while you’re stuck sharing a hotel room.” “But what if -” Joe shook his head, “I watched her last night. She looked at you a lot and not just because you were the one talking. She also smiled a lot whenever your attention was on her. I was half expecting her to say she had a thing for you but wasn’t sure if she should tell you or something like that. So I think there is a good chance she is attracted to you but for some reason, doesn’t want to admit it and I think sleeping with her would just make things more complicated and worse for both of you. You said she had her little freak out thing when you were hooking up after that date. You don’t want to let things get further and have her freak out again.” “Yeah, you’re right. I’m just confusing myself because we’ve been in such close quarters. I just wish things were more certain y’know? Like, she keeps saying she doesn’t like me as more than a friend but then we’ll have a moment like we did in the hotel, or like on the plane when she was leaning on my shoulder to help with my crossword puzzle, or when we fucking made out. And then I’m back getting my hopes up only for her to turn around and crush me again. And it’s probably nothing anyway. Just pent up urges since we’ve been fucking trapped in this for months now.” “I don’t know man, it might be more than that. She seemed really into you last night.” “Nah. She’s horny and I’m there and that’s why we’ve had these near kisses and stuff. She’s said she doesn’t like me so that’s it. Maybe it’s better that way anyway.” Joe shook his head again but let the subject drop, “So how long are you here for again? There’s this restaurant up the road I should take you to.”
                                                      ***
The closer he got to his parent’s place the more tightly wound Ben felt. Bringing a girl home to meet the family was always at least a little nerve wracking – wondering whether they’d like her, whether she’d like them, how many embarrassing stories he’d have to sit through. But he could safely say that with you it was worse than with anyone else. There was so much history with you, despite never having legitimately dated, that he couldn’t stop thinking about. You meant so much to him. And he knew his mum was going to love you (how could she not) and that meant he was going to be asked why it took him so long to bring you around and about where it was headed and they were questions he didn’t really feel up to answering. Of course, on top of all of that, there was the prospect of sharing a room with you, maybe a bed. You hadn’t entirely worked out the arrangement and not knowing was just making him more nervous. Not just for himself either, for you as well. If he was nervous he could only imagine you were too. You were going to be facing questions as well, judgement from a new family. A family you didn’t even want to be part of. So he kept close to you all night. Because it’s easier to pretend to be a couple when you’re by his side and it’s easier to avoid tough conversations when he has the excuse of introducing you to someone else up his sleeve. And it’s so much easier to keep his folks away from you when he’s got your hand in his. He does circuits of the garden with you, chats to everyone with you, repeating the story of how you met and the fiction of how you started dating. And the whole time he’s trying to make sure you’re comfortable and enjoying yourself at least a little because you don’t even have actual feelings for him to push you on. He’d gladly endure first meetings with every single member of your family tree if you asked but he knows you’re only there because you have to be. Unfortunately, he’s also had a bit to drink so eventually he has to relieve himself, silently cursing his bladder because it means he has to leave you on your own. You don’t seem to mind too much. If anything, it feels like you’ve found your feet and are actually having a good night which he’s glad for. But he still goes as quick as he can.
He’s on his way back when he sees you and instantly realises something’s wrong. Your leg is bouncing so rapidly it’s a wonder you don’t knock the underside of the table, and you’re looking around as if you’re trying to find him. His first thought is that someone has said something inappropriate. There’s plenty of drunk cousins around and who knows what one of them might have said or done in a misguided attempt to be charming or impressive or flirtatious. But then he realises who you’re sitting next to and his stomach drops. So he hurries over to the table and takes the seat beside you, laying his hand on your knee to try to calm you. It works well enough for you to be able to sit there a little longer until he can find a reasonable excuse to leave the table and his mum. He’s not in the mood to be at the party anymore and leads you to the exit, politely waving off anyone who tries to convince you both to stay a little longer. “Better?” he asks once you’re outside, relieved when you say yes. “She mentioned us getting married,” “What? Why the fuck would that have come up?” Ben couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He’d been prepared for a lot but not that. “It was just a passing comment but I….” “It’s okay, c’mon, let’s go home you can tell me everything.” Without thinking he pulled you into a hug, breathing out when he felt you lean into him.
By the time he got back to the house Ben wanted another drink. You’d sat under his arm the entire ride back, keeping quiet, obviously lost in thought as you absentmindedly played with his fingers. Every brush had made him want to take your hand properly and tilt your head up to kiss you, irresponsible and selfish as it might be. One of the upsides of being back home was knowing where his parents hid their best booze, so he dug out a bottle of his dad’s Johnnie Walker, feeling a little like a teenager again, pinching a drink to impress a girl. You laughed though so he counted it as a win. But the reason you were alone together, no longer at the party, was still weighing on him and clearly on you as well. “So what happened back there?” He handed you a glass and waited until you felt you could speak. “I guess it was just harder to be around your family than I was expecting.” Everything you said made sense he supposed. He’d not really considered it that way because he wasn’t so much lying as just playing pretend. But, as much as he wished you were on the same page, he understood where your guilt came from. He tried to make you laugh again but when it didn’t work he set his glass down and took your hand. “Seriously, Y/N, there’s nothing to feel guilty about. The premiere is coming up in a couple of weeks and then pretty soon after that we’ll break up and I’ll tell them it just wasn’t working. They’ll accept it and never have to know the truth. And then we can forget this whole thing and move on.” His chest tightened at the thought of it, not being allowed to even pretend to have you anymore but he clamped down on it for your sake. “But it must be hard for you too. Having me here and everything,” He half shrugged, looking down at where his thumb was brushing the back of your hand softly, “I’m a big boy, I can handle it.” Ben glanced back at you, about to tell you it was sweet of you to care about how he was doing, but when he saw your expression he stopped.
He was a little shocked by the kiss, stumbling back a step or two, the warning siren blaring in his head again. Everything told him to run away and yet his feet were frozen in place. Joe had been right when he said he shouldn’t do this, and he’d been here before. It hadn’t gone well then so what made him think it would be better this time? But somehow he can’t find the words and you kiss him again and he decides he’s going to let it happen. He’s sick of trying to fight how badly he wants you and you clearly want this too. If you didn’t you wouldn’t be trying to undress him. He decides he’s going to let himself be selfish for once and just go with it. After the decisions made it all turns into a bit of a blur really. You’re leaning against the table and then he’s carrying you up to his room and it’s like every almost kiss, every missed opportunity and pent up moment you’d never let yourselves have is breaking all at once. You’re on his bed now and god he’s wanted you like this for so fucking long and who cares if it’s wrong. One night won’t matter. And he’s surprised by how wet you are when you pull his hand towards your cunt but he loves that you’re taking the initiative and that you clearly want him just as much as he wants you. You don’t tell him to stop. You tell him how to touch you, what feels good, and he loves that about you too. Even more than he loves how you sound saying his name as you clench on his fingers and shiver through your orgasm and fuck, he thought the whine from last time was a captivating sound but it has nothing on this, on how you sound when you cum for him. He’s going to be thinking about that moment, about you saying his name like that forever. He wants to be inside you, wants to hear it again, wants to make you feel even better and he’s forgotten where you are and how you got there so he leans over and realises this isn’t this room. This room isn’t as prepared as he’d like. For a moment he thinks that’s it and maybe it’s for the best except then you say you have condoms as you get up and rummage through your bags. He wants to know why – were you planning this or are you always just prepared like that? – except then you’re coming back towards him and he really doesn’t care why, just that you do. You climb on top of him and he feels breathless at the sight. He wants to worship you, every inch of you, and he wants to be as close as possible, pushing himself up to kiss you again because he loves you. He says it without meaning to but he doesn’t care, he’s just trying to get you to moan his name again, rubbing your clit until you’re both finished, breathing hard against each other. You’re kissing along his jaw and he wants to stay like that forever, blissed out and tangled in each other’s embrace. But reality rushes back, ignoring how desperately he’s trying to cling to the moment, and he realises how messy everything suddenly is. It hurts too. Knowing it’s not real, knowing that you don’t want what he wants. He remembers what he said just moments before, that confession whispered against your lips, and it makes him feel queasy with embarrassment on top of the heartache that’s already setting in. How many times does he have to put himself through this pain before he gets it through his head? It’s not reciprocated. It never will be. “I’ve gotta…” Ben nods his head in the direction of the door, hoping you’ll fill in the blank yourself. He wants to leave but he also wants to stay there with you, so he settles on shifting out of your reach and looking over at you, not quite able to meet your eye. “I wasn’t expecting that to happen,” Weren’t you? “Neither. Are you okay?” “Yeah. I, um, it was really good and I-I think I kind of needed it.” Ben tried to smile but it didn’t feel like it worked properly. Sure you needed it. A quick fuck to break the forced dry spell. He wanted to run from the room, flee the scene “It was good for me too. Really good. But it can’t ever happen again.” He averted his eyes again, focused on slipping back into his underwear. There was half a second where he looked around for his shirt before realising it was out at the table with the unfinished whiskies. He’d have to tidy up so no one would be able to work out what happened.
Ben downed what remained of both drinks, the burn of the alcohol a welcome distraction, though much too brief. He grabs his phone from the table, drops the glasses onto the kitchen sink and heads outside to throw the used condom into the garbage bin. As if he was going to leave the evidence of his cowardice and misjudgement inside for anyone to find. Ben turned to head back towards the door, but he didn’t want to walk through it. Inside he’d have to face you and he wasn’t sure how to do that yet. Instead he walked down the sideway into the backyard, taking a seat on the retaining wall by the flower bed of peonies. It’s not exactly warm sitting there in just his boxers and his fingers shake a little as he unconsciously find’s Joe’s name in his contacts. Joe must be busy or asleep or something (What’s the time difference again?) because he doesn’t pick up. Instead the call goes to voicemail. “Joe, it’s Ben here. Um… you’re gonna laugh so hard when you hear how fucking stupid I am,” Ben forces a laugh himself, “So I, uh, I just told Y/N that I love her….again….while we were having sex.” A pause as it sank in, “I’m not even sure how it…how we got to… We were just talking and then we were in bed and…. But it’s okay because I told her it could never happen again,” Ben thinks of how affectionate you’d been after, kissing his jaw and his nose, clinging to him, but it wasn’t real, it was just your post-sex, post-orgasm mood. He starts to laugh, less false but not entirely natural either, “I have to drive back with her tomorrow. Christ. Talk about bad timing, huh. But it’s fine though, it’s fine, totally fine. Joe, it’s fine. Because it wasn’t real. We’ve both been pent up and she spent all day with my family and had to listen to my mum talk about us maybe getting married. This was her reward. And that’s all it was. And I’m the idiot for hoping it could ever be more than that. I mean it’s not like friends don’t sometimes fuck, right? Especially when they’ve been drinking and pretending to date. Sex doesn’t have to mean feelings and it doesn’t for her and that’s fine.” There was that tight feeling in his chest again. Ben cleared his throat. “The drive will give me a chance to tell her it was a mistake. Because it was. This whole thing was a mistake. It was a mistake to fuck her and it was a mistake to bring her to meet my family and it was a mistake to pretend to date her and the biggest mistake of all of them was falling for her. And I haven’t been doing enough to reverse that. I know I said I have been, but I haven’t. I got caught up in the maybes and what ifs and I didn’t really try to move on. But now I…. It’s gotta fucking end sometime. I can’t keep doing this. So I’ve got to tell her it was a mistake and I don’t love her. Maybe I never did. Maybe I’m the same as her and it was all just because I was horny. Whatever. Now I can move on with my life. She doesn’t love me and I don’t love her and she’ll just be some bitch I nailed and we’ll both be happy, right?” Ben sighed and swiped at his blurry eyes. He’s not sure if the voicemail cut out midway through his thought process but it probably doesn’t matter. Movement from upstairs catches his eye. You in his old bedroom, getting dressed and leaving the room. He’s a little worried that if he heads back inside now he’ll bump into you on your way to get a drink from the kitchen but he can’t sit outside in the chill air all night. He takes a breath and swipes his knuckle over his eyes again before heading back inside, creeping towards the bedroom. You weren’t anywhere to be seen, though he guesses that means you’re in the bathroom. When he reached the bedroom again, he dug into the closet and pulled out a number of spare blankets, stealing a pillow from the bed. It’s not a particularly comfortable nest that he makes but it’s warm and doesn’t smell as much like you as the bed does. The pillow still holds a trace of you, but he flips it over and the scent is gone. He’s there when you get back, already pretending to sleep, curled in on himself facing away from you. “Ben?” He squeezes his eyes tighter shut, listening as you flick off the light and tiptoe back towards the bed. There’s a creak of springs as you get comfortable and then another as you move again. “Ben?” Your voice sounds even softer that time and Ben is tempted to answer but he bites his tongue. “Ben I-I…. Goodnight.” There’s another creak as you settle back down again. Ben lies perfectly still until he’s sure you aren’t going to move again. He doesn’t want to hear whatever you’re trying to say. It’ll just be everything he already knows. So he keeps quiet and feigns sleep in the hopes that real sleep will bring it’s respite sooner rather than later.
                                                      ***
Ben’s phone rang and he admonished himself for hoping it was you. He was meant to be getting over you. Besides, the hope was misplaced. It was his mum. “How did Y/N’s audition go?” “Uh,” It took him a moment to remember the excuse he’d made up, “yeah, well I think.” “She’s lovely, Ben. I’m glad you finally let us meet her,” “Yeah,” He didn’t know how else to respond but his mother didn’t need much more encouragement than that. “You should bring her back soon, I’d love to have more of a chance to get to know her. It was a bit hard with so many people there.” “Yeah, um, I’d have to check when we’re free.” He said, dragging his fingers through his hair. “I’m sure you could find one night for us,” “Yeah. But there’s the premier coming soon and we’ve both got auditions and meetings lined up so I don’t know for sure. But let me talk to Y/N and we’ll find a day that works.” “Maybe a weekend? You could stay for a couple of days then, wouldn’t have to rush off.” “We’ll see. Depends.” “Don’t leave it too long honey,” “I won’t mum. Sorry, I’ve got to run, expecting a call back about something.” “Alright, love you,” “Love you too mum,” Ben threw his phone to the other side of the couch and sighed. He’d been expecting that call but that didn’t make it any easier to get through. Not when he’d spent the last few days thinking about that night and everything that had happened. The way your lips felt on his, the way you’d looked sitting on his lap, the way you’d sounded when you came. He shook his head as if he were an etch-a-sketch but the thoughts didn’t disappear, they just morphed into thoughts of later, in the car on the way home. How you’d nodded when he’d said he didn’t love you, clearly overjoyed with the news but trying not to show it.
 Ben hadn’t gone cold turkey with you, there was still some contact, but he refrained from anything too unnecessary, spent as much time as he could with his other friends, and tried to keep any replies to you as simple as possible. Unfortunately his parents was less restrained. A few days later his mum called again, checking if he’d had a chance to invite you over yet. The day after he received a message from his dad suggesting he come down for lunch on the weekend (and encouraging him to bring you along), and then a couple days after that there was another call, one which he ignored. Every time he was thrown back to that night. But not even ignoring the calls helped. It just left him dwelling on everything and it didn’t even deter them. When next his mum called he found himself in yet another conversation on the topic and only just managed to stop himself from hanging up in her ear. He couldn’t do it anymore. It was pointless, all of it. The part of him that had thought you’d fall for him if you slept together had been proven wrong so there was nothing left to hope for. But with his family and friends thinking you were dating, always asking after you, and with you texting him memes and requesting his help, how was he meant to move on? What he needed was a clean break. But the breakup wasn’t scheduled until after the premiere and it wasn’t like a date had been set, it was up to the studio or your agents or someone else. And Ben wasn’t sure how he’d be able to wait it out that long.
 A breakthrough came in an email from Peter, an update about the movie Ben had signed on for. Originally it was meant to film in England, but those plans were in the process of changing. Part of it would still be done around London but now it seemed a big portion of the filming would happen in Spain too. Peter seemed unsure as to how this change would clash with the plans for the breakup but Ben saw it as the opportunity he needed. He wouldn’t be leaving until after the premiere anyway so it wouldn’t change your last public appearance together, but it would also work as the clean break he’d been looking for. Plus, as he reasoned to Peter, they could use the distance as an excuse for why the breakup happened. Peter seemed to like the idea and agreed that the change of location wouldn’t affect anything enough to make Ben drop out. Ben was relieved, having been excited about the project since he first picked up the script, and began looking forward to getting away from you properly. Being in a completely different country would give him the time and space he needed to stop thinking about you. It would be easy to sever all ties to you and get on a plane and move on, maybe meet someone who could drive you from his mind. He’d have to break up with you though, not just through the press but as a friend too. He couldn’t have you texting him while he was away or commenting on photos he posted online. It had to be complete. He had to remove you from his life entirely. After the premiere would be a good time to tell you. He’d pull you aside at the party or maybe tell you in the limo on the way home. It’d be hard to explain but you’d understand. She’s probably been wondering how to get rid of you anyway. Surely, you’d be pleased to hear he was going to leave you alone, not bother you with his stupid feelings anymore. You’d agree it was for the best.
                                                      ***
The night of the premiere snuck up on Ben. He’d been distracted with warding off his parents every invitation, on top of sorting out everything for his trip to Spain. Before he knew it the night had arrived making him feel equal parts excited about seeing the final product of what he’d spent so many months working on and anxious about seeing you. All he could think about was what he was going to say to you. He felt bad about cutting you from his life but there was relief too, knowing it’d be over soon. As he dressed in the suit his stylist had picked out he went over the speech he’d mentally written. It’s just a breakup, you’ve done it before. Tell her you’re sorry but you can’t see her anymore. That’s all you have to do. So, it was with this confusing mixture of emotions that he got into the limo and he only felt more ill at ease as he approached your place to pick you up. “You look lovely,” he said as you climbed into the car beside him. It came out more robotic than he meant it to. But there was a sense that this was the last time he’d be allowed to properly look at you so, while you were getting settled and taking in the interior of the limousine, he allowed himself a final chance to look you over. A hundred other adjectives to describe how beautiful you were, all dressed up and glowing, popped into his head but he kept those to himself. He couldn’t second guess his decision now. It was the only way to stop caring about you. And yet, he could feel his resolve crumbling just from being near you for the first time in weeks. No. Don’t let her get to you. This is why you can’t be in contact. Ben felt his hand curl into a fist as he reminded himself how useful the space would be. What he needed was some rules, guidelines to follow to help him stick to his plan. He ignored the irony as he came up with them. No holding hands. Actually, make that no physical contact. No voluntary physical contact anyway. He was bound to be asked by someone to take a photo with you or appear on camera with you and he couldn’t refuse if they asked for him to touch you or kiss you or anything. Do as many interviews as you can without her. That would hopefully keep interactions to a minimal. Don’t look at her during the movie.
 It was surprisingly easy to stick to the rules as you both made your way down the red carpet, but he knew it wasn’t so much his choice as it was how busy and noisy and chaotic everything was. People called his name from every side, reporters looking for quick interviews, fans looking for autographs or photos. He was able to sidestep you easily, answering questions that were thrown at him on his own until someone asked if they could speak to you both at once or get a photo of you together. Whenever you were waved over to join him, he attempted to maintain as much space as he could, but you seemed to have set your own rules just to make it harder for him. You took his hand, leant your head on his shoulder, stood so close your leg brushed against his, stroked your hand over his arm, anything and everything you could to be closer to him. Ben wasn’t sure if you really were acting more affectionate (clingy and needy) than normal or if it just felt that way because he was attempting to hold back. He put up with it though, unable to do much besides press on to the next interview without you. The hardest part was when you reached a bank of photographers who wanted a number of photos of the happy couple. Someone called out for him to kiss you and then suddenly the entire crowd was calling for it. He kept it soft and brief, though a part of him regretted not making the final kiss you’d share better.
 After that he was able to escape you for a little, talking to people as everyone gathered in the theatre to watch the movie. He didn’t look at you again until he was on stage with you, introducing the film and saying his words of gratitude and celebration. But even that didn’t last long and then he was able to take his seat and focus his attention on the screen. Watching himself was always a bit of a weird experience. Part enjoying what he’s helped create, part critiquing his performance, and part wondering why it had been edited the way it had been edited. But somehow it was even stranger sitting beside you and watching you play at being in love with him. He recognised expressions, small smiles and looks, that you’d given him on dates during the course of your relationship. Just proof of how fake everything with you was. It left him with a bitter taste in his mouth and an oddly jealous feeling in his gut. And he could feel you looking at him but he stuck to his rules and kept his eyes fixed ahead.
 He turned to his other side afterwards to talk to Alfie, wondering aloud how everyone would react to the movie and laughing about how well it had turned out. Ben couldn’t think what to say to you, knowing the inevitable end was coming. It was closer now that everyone was heading to the after party. So he was grateful when Alfie joined the two of you in your car. “You two ready to party?” He laughed, “Fuck I love that work gives me such a good excuse to get plastered.” Ben laughed along but he was stuck by the realisation that of course there’d be drinking. He’d have to watch how much he had, especially around you. He didn’t want to say something he’d regret or not be able to explain himself properly. “I think shots are in order to get us started. Meet you both by the bar?” “Sounds like a plan Al,” “I’m making yours a double Jones. We’ll have him dancing on the table by the end of the night, right Y/N?” “Oh I’d love to see that.” Cameras flashed as the small group got out of the car. Alfie headed off down the line, catching up with one of the others, leaving Ben and you on your own. Ben felt you press into his side, hanging off his arm, and thought about what waited in the club. Alfie with shots followed by champagne and cocktails and whatever else would be pressed on him during the night. He didn’t want to blurt it out or let it slip in front of other people. He had to tell you before he’d had anything to drink, just in case. It was now. It had to happen now.
 As soon as he was inside, Ben looked around for somewhere he could have a quiet word with you, somewhere no one was likely to overhear. A nearby mirrored hallways seemed the perfect place. Everyone else was busy heading into the main room and it was out of view of the photographers still hanging around outside, waiting for the stragglers to show up. “Can I speak to you over hear a sec?” he lead you around the corner, looking around to double check for eavesdroppers, “So, there’s something I need to…Y/N?” he realised you hadn’t been paying attention, probably keen to get inside and celebrate. “Yeah, sorry, Um…” Ben didn’t hear what you said next, too busy trying to remember everything he wanted to tell you, “I was going to hold off until later but I don’t want to let something slip after a few drinks or anything like that. I can’t do this anymore. This whole thing was a mistake that I should never have agreed to and I need it to be over now.” He could see how confused you were, “You know they’re going to break us up in like a week, right?” “Yeah well, that’s too long to wait. I’m breaking us up now.” He kept talking, sure the shock of it would wear off and you’d agree with him once you’d heard it all, “And…I don’t think I can see you again, not for a while at least. I need some space to forget this ever happened. I, um, I start my new job in a few days so I think they’ll probably use that in the magazines to explain our breakup. And I don’t expect I’ll see you until after it’s finished. If then. So…good luck with that witch movie. Take care of yourself.” He didn’t want to hear you agree with him, didn’t want to hear you say it was for the best or that you were going to suggest the same thing or even a goodbye. So he pushed past you and followed the noise until he found the bar. As promised Alfie was there, with a few others, a shot glass in each hand. He handed one to Ben. “Where’d Y/N go?” “Oh, uh, loo. She’ll be here in a minute.” “Well here’s to a job well done and hopefully some fucking record breaking box office numbers,” “Cheers to that,” Ben clinked his glass against Alfie’s and downed the shot, hissing a little, “another?” “Read my mind,” Ben lost himself in conversation and drinks, chatting with those around him for a while before moving on to talk to more people. Beer in hand, he headed towards the side of the room where a couple of the other main cast were sitting. Claudia looked up as he approached, “Heya Ben! Where’s Y/N? I haven’t seen her all night,” It was only then that Ben realised he hadn’t seen you come in after he’d left you in the hallway. He glanced around in an attempt to spot you, a pang of worry shooting through him but then he stopped looking. She’s not yours to worry about anymore.
                                                      ***
Ben woke up with a minor hangover the day after the premiere. Maybe it was karma. Despite what he told himself, he’d kept an eye out for you all night, but never saw you and he was more than a little worried that it was because of what he’d said. It was tempting to call and ask where you’d gotten to but a quick glance at the clock told him you’d likely still be asleep anyway. Besides, he knew he shouldn’t. He’d told you he wasn’t going to see you again and he intended to stick to his word. Instead he sent a group message to his mates and invited them around for one last hang out before he left for Spain. The next call he made was to his mum. “Hi honey. How’d the premiere go? “It was really fun, movie looks good.” “How long before you fly out?” “Couple of days,” “Shame there’s not enough time for you and Y/N to come over for dinner,” “Yeah, um, about that… we broke up.” “What? Why?” “It just wasn’t working. Mutual decision, we both felt it had run its course but decided to keep it quiet until after the premiere. So, yeah, no dinner, even if I was going to be in the country.” “Oh, honey, are you okay?” “Yeah, fine. Like I said, we both knew it was coming so y’know, no hard feelings or anything.” “It’s a shame, she was so lovely,” “Yeah, well, sometimes things just don’t work the way you think they will.”
The boys arrived in the afternoon, bringing a mixture of snacks and a few beers with them. They settled in the living room to play video games. Ben liked the company. It was a good distraction. Or it would have been if talk hadn’t turned to you. “Bit surprised you wanted us here and not Y/N. Figured you’d spend your last days in the UK with her,” “Why would I when we broke up?” “You what? When?” Ben shrugged, “We broke up. Few days ago,” “Jesus man, I’m sorry,” “Don’t be, it’s fine. I dumped her.” “Yeah but you had to go to the premiere with her right? That’s rough,” “Was a bit but there was an open bar so I coped,” Ben laughed. “Might be time we got him back on the market then,” “What? We only broke up a couple of days ago,” “You’re clearly not too cut up about it,” “What the fuck would you know, you’ve been single for what is it, three years now?” “Well you didn’t tell us when it happened, and you never even told us when you got together. We found out through a magazine, so obviously you weren’t really that serious about her” “We were waiting until after all the movie stuff was done, and that’s bollocks.” “Excuses. Besides, getting someone new to suck you off is the best way to forget an ex. This is your phone right?” “Oi give that back,” There was a scuffle as Ben tried to grab his phone back but he was outnumbered and pinned down as the boys redownloaded his Bumble app and signed in for him, laughing about how he used the same password for everything. “She’s fit, give her a like,” “Oh I like her, might be a bit tall for you though Ben,” Ben rolled his eyes as he watched them swipe on profile after profile until they heard a noise that meant one of the girls had sent him a message. “There you go Ben, didn’t take long did it. You’ll forget all about that Y/N chick in no time,” Ben snatched his phone back, “You guys are such wankers,” “That’s not very nice considering we’ve just got you a new girl,” There was laughter and more teasing as controllers were passed around and the game was loaded. Ben closed the app, thumb hovering over it to delete it again. But maybe they were right. Maybe someone new would be good. He set the phone down again and turned his attention to the game.
                                                      ***
Spain was beautiful and having a new movie to work on was the perfect distraction, especially considering how many stunts, fight scenes, and action sequences were involved. It gave him a chance to meet more people in the industry, people he was excited to work with, and really focus on something other than you. The cast went out together frequently too, dinners at local restaurants, drinks in the hotel bar, getting lost in an unfamiliar city. There was no trace of you there, no reminders of date nights, nothing but work and a new country to explore. Occasionally he’d get a notification that a reporter or curious individual was trying to message him, asking questions about you and the split but he ignored them. Ben deleted the Bumble app too within the first few days, knowing he wouldn’t use it. There was no time, even if he’d wanted to hook up with anyone. He could always reinstall it once he was back home. Once he knew you were in the past. Because the problem was that at some point every night, Ben would get back to his hotel suite and be left alone again. For a while he’d be able to think about what scenes would be filmed the next day, maybe practice some fight choreography. But eventually he’d run out of distractions and then all that was left to think about was you. Peter had sent through the first articles that reported the breakup and since then he’d found himself wondering if you’d moved on yet, found someone else to date now that you were allowed to. He’d considered checking your Instagram account but had held off, knowing it was a step in the wrong direction. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know anyway. He hadn’t gotten over you enough yet to deal with photos of you and another man together.
 This night was much the same as the others had been. Everyone met up for dinner, followed by a couple of drinks and then headed back to the hotel to unwind. Ben decided to call it an early night. He’d spent a good part of the day hooked up to harnesses and wires, being flung at a wall over and over. He was sore and tired figured some extra rest would do him good. He was just settling into bed, trying to keep his mind on the TV show he’d put on when he heard the knock. He listened closely for a moment but it couldn’t be for him, he’d put up a do not disturb sign on his door, so he turned back to the TV and flicked to a different channel. Another knock. It definitely sounded like his door but who would it be? Maybe one of the other actors? But they’d all heard him say he was going to have an early night, so surely not. Again Ben ignored it. The third knock got Ben out of bed, stumbling to the light switch and then the door, ready to politely tell whoever it was to fuck off and let him rest. “Sorry but can you not see the do not dis- Y/N? What ar-” Ben was surprised. Surprised you knew where he was, surprised you’d come there after he’d told you he didn’t want to see you, surprised that you were covering his mouth to shut him up. “You wouldn’t reply to my texts and I didn’t know if you’d listen to any voicemails I left you but I have something I need to tell you so that’s why I’m here.” There was a beat as Ben waited to hear what could be so important that you’d come all the way to Spain to tell him. “I love you.” He gasped but your palm was still over his mouth so he couldn’t say anything. It had to be a joke, didn’t it? But you didn’t look like you were joking. He waited, listening as you explained everything. It was wonderful to know you felt the same but his shock didn’t lessen. He’d been so sure about everything. So sure about how little you’d felt for him, so sure you would have understood why he needed space. And now you were here telling him the exact opposite? It was unfathomable. Maybe it was a hallucination? Maybe he’d got a concussion when he hit the wall too hard earlier. Does concussion make you hallucinate? But blinking didn’t make you disappear and the hand against his mouth felt real enough. “I’ve missed you so much, so fucking much, and all I’ve wanted is to see you again and hear your voice and hug you and I’d really like to date you for real, or at least be friends again because not having you in my life is complete shit.” Ben felt tears prickling his eyes as he realised how backwards he’d had it. You loved him. You. Y/N. You loved him so much you’d flown to Spain just to tell him. “That’s all I had to say,” you said softly, pulling you hand away. Ben staired in disbelief for a moment but you looked as if you were fighting the urge to run for it and it brought him back to his senses. “Thank god,” it was all he could think to say as he reached out to hold you, pulling you tight against him and kissing you the way he’d wanted to kiss you for so long. Relief flooded his system when you kissed back. He didn’t have to forget you or force himself to move on. It had been an impossible task anyway. He was glad to stop trying.
 It’s only when someone makes a noise further down the corridor that he lets you go, asks if you planned to stay, lead you inside and towards the couch. There were things he needed to clear up first, before he could let himself be fully happy with the situation. He looks at you properly then. You look tired, worn out. He’s not sure if it’s from the late hour or the flight or because you’ve not been sleeping properly but it makes him feel guilty that he upset you. He hates that he pushed you away and wasted months trying to get rid of you when you’d both actually wanted the same thing, to be together. But you’re here now. He reached out to brush a strand of your hair behind your ear, almost dizzy with joy that he could do that. “I’m really sorry for how I acted,” You smiled softly as you took a seat and Ben fell into the spot beside you, unable to take his eyes from you. He lets you lead the conversation, trying to sort out his mess of emotions as he explains himself. I thought if I told you I’d never been into you, acted like it, then I could make it true.” “Did it work?” “Of course not,” How could you ever think it would work? That he could just forget you so fast, after he’d fallen for you so hard? “Which is why I pushed you away.” You nodded, seemed to understand where he’d been coming from. He hesitated before reaching out to grab your hand again, a little afraid of touching you lest you turn to smoke and vanish. But you didn’t. He stifled a yawn, hoping you wouldn’t take it as his disinterest in the conversation. He’d stay up as long for as long as it took to go over everything, no matter how tired he was. “Has there been anyone else?” “Anyone else what?” “I saw a thing about you dating again,” That was surprising, not what he’d expected you to bring up. He hadn’t even realised it had been reported on. But he shook his head, explained about his friends encouraging him to move on. It seemed to satisfy you because you leant on his shoulder, let him hold you. He apologised when he yawned again, about to suggest he put a pot of coffee on so he could keep talking. But then you suggested going to bed and he had to agree.
 As soon as his head hit the pillow Ben knew he’d fall asleep fast. Even with the excitement of your arrival and the buzz of joy you brought. He kept his eyes on you. Everything seemed too good to be true. You grabbed his hand and placed it around you, shuffling as close as you could. “You’re actually here, yeah? I’m not just dreaming it?” Ben asked, voicing aloud his biggest worry. “I’m here Ben.” She’s here. In your bed. “Don’t leave, okay?” “I won’t.” She’s here and she’s staying. “I love you,” he needed to say it again, to make sure you knew that he still felt the same. “I love you too,” It was comforting to hear you say it again too, made his heart burst as he kissed you again. He didn’t want to stop but he was much to tired to do anything else. Still, he fought sleep for as long as he could. He’d lost so much time being apart from you that, now he had you back in his arms, sleep felt like a waste of precious hours. Hours he could spend kissing you, being with you, making sure you felt loved. He couldn’t fight it forever though, eventually had to give up. The last thing he saw before he shut his eyes was you, smiling at him, as you lay beside him.
                                                      ***
It had been a long day what with moving you into his house. Even after the boxes were inside and everyone who had been helping out had gone home, there was still a lot to do. Everything needed to be unpacked and put away. Ben had been clearing space on all his shelves and in all his cupboards to fit everything you’d brought with you. Plus there was new furniture from Ikea to unpack and construct. Like the chest of draws he’d been working on before he got up to stretch his legs and grab a glass of water. He caught sight of the magazines that had been left in the kitchen and, chuckling at their stories of marriage and babies, stacked them in a neat pile before he grabbed his drink. As he walked back through the living room he saw you, curled up on the floor beside the box you’d been working through. “Y/N?” Ben shook your shoulder to wake you, trying not to laugh as you blink at him groggily, still half asleep. “Alright, cuddle bunny, up you get. Time for bed, yeah?” “But the boxes,” you argued though it was unenthusiastic and slurred with sleep. “The boxes will be there tomorrow. C’mon, come with me,” Ben half carried you to the bedroom and helped you under the covers, leaving you with a kiss on the forehead before heading back to the draws he was halfway through building.
 By the time he was finished putting the draws together Ben was feeling fairly tired himself. He moved the spare screws off the floor so no one would step on them and then headed back to the bedroom. You were still there, sleeping soundly. Ben paused in the doorway to look at you. It was a sight he loved, you in his bed. The first time you stayed over and slept in his bed rather than the guest room had been a monumental occasion though the novelty of it had worn off a bit now, especially with how frequently you’d stayed at each other’s places before the move. But still, he’d never get sick of seeing you beside him, where you belonged. Same as he’d never get sick of making you tea or trying to convince you to eat an actual breakfast or making you laugh. It was in that moment, leaning against the doorway of the bedroom you now shared, one wall lined with boxes of your belongings yet to be put away, it was then that he knew he wanted to marry you. Have a family with you, spend his life with you. He’d go out and buy a ring once you were moved in properly, though he could hear his friends telling him to wait a little longer, see how everything was living with you first. But that didn’t matter. He wouldn’t have to give it to you straight away after all. But he knew that was what he wanted with you. And now that you were together, after so much time and trouble, he never wanted to let you go.
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artificialqueens · 3 years
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You Rewrote My Ending (ABCD Friendship) - Candy Cane
A/N: so glad i finished this today!! i have two other wips im currently working on, and im so thankful for @chaoticnachokitten for beign a cheerleader and beta for this one!!! thank you!!! you can follow me at @sillylittlecandycane if you so please <3 enoy :3 Summary: After a long week, the four bffs finally get a chance to relax.
Adore has had what feels like the absolute longest week ever. She knows Courtney was struggling too, Bianca’s texts sound grumpier than usual, and Darienne hasn’t been texting enough, which basically confirms for Adore that they all need to get together asap.
The youngest of the four sends the absolutely most pathetic text she can think of to the group chat, then boom! Next thing she knows, Darienne’s inviting everyone over to her place, Courtney is making sure Bianca’s bringing rich lady alcohol, and Adore is calling in their pizza order to be delivered to Darienne’s.
As the two musicians rush around the house gathering their things before the Uber arrives, Adore remembers at the last minute to poke her head into Trixie’s bedroom so at least one of their other roommates knows where they’re going.
“Hey Trix?” Adore says before she’s even looking in, the second she does look though…
Katya and Trixie are shoulder to shoulder in the latter’s bed, laughing their asses off over something on the laptop situated on their laps. Adore doesn’t quite know what she’s seeing, it’s definitely not the first time they’ve acted like this, but it is… different.
“What’s up?” Trixie says, still coming off the high of laughter.
“Courm and I are headed to Darienne’s for the night, I dunno when we’ll be back-”
“Cool, have fun!” Trixie cuts her off a bit too quickly.
Adores glances between her roommates, deciding she’d much rather go get cuddles from her favorite shady elephant than psychoanalyze these two psychos.
“Kay, bye!” Adore grins, slinging her backpack over her shoulder to meet Courtney at the front door.
Courtney looks exhausted, even if her makeup is totally perfect, and Adore is really, really worried for her. Her shoulders are a little too slumped, her hair is just a little too messy, her voice just a little too groggy… Adore hates it. She cannot wait for their night of relaxation to start.
Luckily, she doesn’t have to wait much longer. They get the text from their Uber, rush outside and climb in, then after a bumpy, curvy, wild ride from a seemingly normal driver, the roommates tumble out of the car a little worse for wear, but fine.
Courtney is the one to knock on the door of Darienne’s townhouse that lies at the very edge of the city. Bianca is the one to open it for them, holding a large glass of wine and wearing an expression of fondness and exasperation.
“It took you long enough,” the older woman snorts, “Even the fucking pizza guy beat you two.”
“Our Uber driver was probably insane,” Courtney sighs, accepting Bianca’s hug as she walks into the familiar home.
“Yanks!” Adore shouts before practically launching herself into Bianca’s arms, pressing her face into the crook of her friend’s neck, feeling warm and safe in the embrace.
Bianca runs a hand through Adore’s tangled, dyed-red hair, “Missed you too, bitch.”
Adore throws her head back in free, happy laughter, she’s definitely missed her best friend this week, and it feels so good to be with her again. The singer looks up to see Courtney leaning against Darienne, who looks just as tired as the rest of them. Adore is kind of excited to hear about why everyone’s just had a collectively sucky week or day. Those three are hilarious when ranting while drunk, and she could really use a good time.
Adore grabs Bianca’s hand so that they can go and join Courtney and Darienne in a nice, big group hug. They all hold onto each other tight, a firm reminder that their friendship is unshakable, and that one bad week can’t hurt any one of them.
They pull apart after a few minutes, then Adore looks out into the kitchen curiously.
“So… the pizza’s already here?” she asks cheekily.
“Go get your fucking food, you needy bitch, because once you’re done I’m going after your nasty hair,” Bianca says in her typical motherly way, reaching up to ruffle Adore’s hair.
Darienne rolls her eyes, “Hey, don’t take too much of my good wine either! I’m old, I’ve lived long enough to deserve it.”
Adore laughs out a “Yes, mom!” as she heads over to the kitchen, Courtney right behind her. Despite living in the same apartment, Adore doesn’t really get to see Courtney or talk to her as much as she wishes she could. Their schedules rarely line up, and Courtney has been spending more and more time out of town over the last couple months. Adore doesn’t think she would ever be able to say it out loud, but she’s terrified Courtney is going to move out of town with how much she’s been away lately.
And that would suck for so many fucking reasons! One, she’d have to find a fourth roommate, which, gross, talking to new people. Two, Courtney would be moving out. Three, Courtney wouldn’t even be in the same fucking city anymore! Adore doesn’t know what she’d do without being able to crawl into Courtney’s bed for cuddles at four a.m., or Courtney’s way too peppy early morning attitude. It would just suck.
Head spinning with worry, Adore grabs a couple pieces of the veggie pizza, then pours herself more wine then either of her old lady friends would approve of. Courtney follows behind her, the two lean against the kitchen counter, quietly enjoying each other’s company, eating pizza and sipping on wine.
Adore smiles when she hears Bianca and Darienne’s crazy laughing, and then giggles when the two of them tease each other as they storm into the kitchen.
“You two look pathetic,” Bianca says gruffly, arms crossed over her chest as she stares at them from the other side of the counter, “Let’s go watch Real Housewives or something, I wanna make fun of ugly bitches and I’ve already said all I can about everyone in this room.”
“Fine, but if anyone stains my sofas I’m going to lose my damn mind,” Darienne says, even though she’s already taking Adore and Courtney’s hands to lead them to her couches.
“Impossible, you lost your mind ten years ago,” Bianca retorts, sitting down on the end of the couch.
Darienne doesn’t say anything, but she’s laughing along with everyone else, and it’s really, really fucking good. After everyone’s situated on the couches, Adore curls up on the floor against Bianca’s legs, her cheek resting on her friend’s knees. Bianca absent mindedly runs her fingers through Adore’s matted, messy hair while Courtney and Darienne argue over what to watch.
“Ugh, your hair’s a mess, kid,” Bianca complains, “I can hardly put my fingers through it!”
“I’m too tired to brush it though,” Adore whines.
“Well I told you earlier I’d take care of it for you,” Bianca reminds her, trying not to smile at the way the younger perks up.
“Thank you…” Adore mumbles, her face pressed tight against Bianca’s knee.
Bianca smirks, “You gotta let me up though so I can get a hairbrush.”
“Nooooooo!”
“Then I can’t fix your hair, you lazy mermaid.”
“…Courtney?” Adore asks hopefully.
“I’m not getting up,” the Aussie says, snuggling further into the soft cushions of Darienne’s couch, her cheek resting on said friend’s shoulder.
“Count me out too,” Darienne says, her tiredness from the week extra heavy in her voice.
Adore groans and rolls off of Bianca’s legs, her back resting against the couch so that Bianca can get up. Bianca pats the top of Adore’s head before she gets up, and Adore’s eyes drift to the TV, which is playing some over dramatic reality show. It’s perfect for this kind of night.
Before she even has time to miss her Willow too much, Bianca is back and tugging the younger in between her legs so that she has a good angle to take care of the rats’ nest Adore is currently calling her hair. Darienne and Bianca start a back and forth banter over the craziness happening on screen, while Courtney intermittently interjects and Adore laughs along with her friends, immensely enjoying the gentleness of Bianca’s fingers and the methodic, soothing motions of the brush.
No one is sure when, but Adore quickly starts dozing off against Bianca’s legs, and only moves when Bianca tugs her up onto the couch. Adore winds up with her head in Bianca’s lap, and her long legs sprawled across Courtney’s and Darienne’s. They tease her a little at first, loving and good natured, but are quick to give it up once they realize she really is falling asleep in B’s lap.
“Poor kid is just completely worn out,” Bianca mutters as she works on an extra difficult knot.
Darienne sighs, “Yeah, one of those weeks for us all…”  
“This was the first full week I’ve been home in months. I’m really glad to be back, but I think it’s just made me realize how tired I am from travelling,” Courtney admits.
Darienne squeezes her hand sympathetically, “Don’t overwork yourself, that’s how you turn out to be a bitter old bitch like Bianca and I.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” Bianca chortles, brushing Adore’s hair gently, “I was two times worse than you are, ya know, and I didn’t really have anyone around me telling me to calm down. So take the advice now, and maybe a vacation while you’re at it.”
Courtney smiles fondly at Bianca, and leans over a conked out Adore to give her a one-armed hug, “You are much more of a sweetheart than you want anyone to know.”  
“You don’t gotta rub it in my face,” Bianca says with an eye roll.
“Oh no, we will be holding this over your head for the rest of time,” Darienne teases.
“You’re one to talk,” Courtney smirks, “And I’d say it’s less of a secret with you.”
Darienne feigns a scandalized expression, reaching up to grasp at her heart, “Courtney! How could you?” Courtney’s shoulders shake with laughter, causing her to accidentally jostle Adore, which in turn makes the youngest of the four groggily protest being woken.
“What the hell…?” Adore whines, her cheek squished against Bianca making her words almost unintelligible. Bianca pets through Adore’s hair to soothe her back to sleep while whispering to her, pointedly ignoring the looks from the other two ladies as she does so.
“She has you wrapped around her little finger,” Courtney says, nothing but awe and amusement in her voice.
“As long as she doesn’t figure it out I’ll be fine,” Bianca jokes, not denying it.
“From that first day at that damn club…” Darienne says, reminiscing already.
“I’m not drunk enough for this,” Bianca complains, wrinkling her nose, still detangling Adore’s hair even though it’s almost perfectly smooth now.
Courtney grins mischievously, “Remember how much you couldn’t stand me? Or Adore? I think Darienne you liked from the start, but that’s because she’s just your type of person.”
The older woman rolls her eyes fondly, “Yeah, I remember. You two were so fucking annoying, and if it hadn’t been for Darienne being the most tolerable bitch in the building I probably would’ve strangled someone.”
“That sounds about right,” Adore mumbles sleepily. The other three chuckle and Bianca brushes back Adore’s hair from her face.
“I remember hating all three of you immediately,” Darienne jokes, the others laughing along with her, “I only like people with good taste in makeup.”
Courtney gasps in faux offence, Adore sniggers into Bianca’s lap, and Bianca continues the banter, “What does it mean now that we’re your best friends?”
“That there’s still hope for you guys yet.”
Courtney nearly falls into Darienne’s lap from laughing so hard. Maybe they’re all over-doing it on the wine, but they’re having too much fun to consider slowing down. Courtney hasn’t felt so relaxed and happy in weeks, and she can’t help but to regret not calling Bianca sooner.
She sighs and curls closer into Darienne, “So what happened with you this week?”
Darienne hums boredly, “Just my boss being shitty, but what’s new? Oh, and that guy I met on Facebook turned out to be completely worthless.”
“It’s not your fault the people around you are awful,” Courtney says sympathetically, “You deserve better than anyone like them.”
“You know what? I do,” Darienne agress confidently.
“I’ll beat them up for you,” Adore offers, lifting her head up just enough to be heard.
“Now that’s a fight I’d like to see,” Bianca grins.
“I’ll send you addresses next week,” Darienne says, patting Adore’s calf, which is still sprawled across her lap.
“I love you, Darienne,” Adore sing-songs loudly.
“Bitch, stop moving so much I’m trying to fix your hair,” Bianca complains.
“I love you, too, Bia!”
Courtney rubs Adore’s back softly, “Awww, what about me?”
Adore quickly sits up, causing Bianca to grumble in surprise, and turns herself so she’s nose to nose with Courtney, “Courm, I love you so fucking much and I don’t know where I’d be without you so please, please don’t move out because I can’t function when you’re not around-”
“Whoa, whoa, slow down,” Courtney frowns, placing her hands on Adore’s shoulders to steady the younger girl, “Move out? What are you talking about?”
Adore’s eyes water, and she swallows hard, “I know you’re planning on moving out because you’re always out of town, and you’ve been getting a lot of mail from this one company, and I just… Please don’t go, Courtney.”
Courtney throws her arms around Adore’s neck and pulls her in for a tight, loving hug, “I’m not going anywhere, Adore. I promise. I’m sorry that it looks like I may be planning on moving out, but I swear I’m not.”
“Thank God,” Adore mumbles, snuggling closer to Courtney.
Bianca rolls her eyes, but they all know she really does find it sweet, “Alright, now that the mushy shit is sorted, Adore can you get your fucking knee off of my appendix?”
Adore rolls herself off the couch and onto the floor with a yelp, “I’m okay!”
Courtney giggles, “Bianca, appendixes are so old-fashioned. If you want I can recommend you a surgeon to get rid of that.”
“Of course you can, you cunt,” Bianca says, playfully slapping Courtney’s arm.
Adore looks up at her three very best friends. She wouldn’t trade them for the whole world, not ever. They’re too perfect, too perfect for someone like her, but somehow they’re still hers. So she’ll take what she can get, and accept it for what it is.
She loves them, and she knows they love her too. 
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galaxysgal · 3 years
Text
Five Minutes to Midnight || Llewyn Davis
Pairing: Llewyn Davis x gn!reader
Warnings: Swearing cause it’s Llewyn, very brief mentions of alcohol/being drunk but like, it’s just a) Llewyn drinking one (1) glass of wine and b) random drunk peple in the streets
Rating: Teen for swearing
A/N: I came up with this idea yesterday. less than 48 hours later, a fully formed fic had sprung forth from my fingertips. Thanks to @tinyphantomsalad for putting up with and answering my 19273673 questions in the groupchat and for hyping me up as I wrote this. And also for reading it before everyone else. I have a feeling I’m going to be writing more Llewyn in the future, hes just so... loveable
Wordcount: 2.162 wow thats crazy
Tagging: @softly-sad :))) im really glad someone (aside from jim) was interested in this!!
xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx
Five minutes to midnight.
He was there on the couch, exactly where he had been nearly all evening, a worn tweed jacket pulled tightly around his shoulders. It wasn't even cold. His chill ran bone deep, like he'd never be warm again. You knew this when his hands brushed against yours, his fingers like ice.
Llewyn Davis. The man that had captivated you since the first time you saw him on stage at the Gaslight, since the first moment you heard him sing. There was an air of sweet mystery about him that you wanted to pick apart and unpack. You wanted to know him.
You knew him through the Gorfeins, your father's professor friends. You had been on winter break three years ago, home from college for a few weeks, when he first appeared in your life.
You crossed your arms, pulling your coat tighter around you. "How long do we have to stay?" you asked. You were in the middle of a good book, finally finding the time to read over the holiday. 
"Just a little while sweetheart," your dad answered.
The three of you entered the Gaslight, the smell of alcohol greeting your nose as you shrugged off your jacket, knocking snow from your boots. Your mom immediately spotted the Gorfeins, waving happily to them and pulling you along through the crowded bar.
You heard him before you saw him, ears perking up at the rich honey of his voice- and boy, when you saw him… He was a few years older than you, with a halo of dark curls and a close cropped beard to match. His eyes were closed as he sang, his head tossed back as if he was singing directly to the gods.
You heard your name being called by someone, your parents or maybe the Gorfeins, but you didn't listen to their question. 
"Who is that," you asked softly, not turning your head for more than a second to address Mrs. Gorfein. You couldn't take your eyes off him.
"Oh that's Llewyn, Llewyn Davis," Mrs. Gorfein answered. "A sweet boy really, it's a shame..."
You hadn't heard the rest.
Four minutes to midnight.
Mr. Gorfien clapped you on your shoulder. "Four more minutes!" You smiled politely at him, wondering why you had come to this party in the first place. 
You weren't one to attend social gatherings when you could be at home in your apartment, cozied up by the window with a good book. Right now you could have been at home sipping tea and watching the snowfall, just like you had last new years, and the new years before that, and as many new years as you could remember ever since you were a kid. 
The Gorfiens often hosted parties and dinners, and they always invited you but you rarely showed. They just... weren't your people. They were kind, and Mrs. Gorfien was an amazing cook, but you just didn't fit in there. 
The room was full of people you barely knew, all engrossed in conversation with each other. You had tried small talk for a while, chatting about your education and your job teaching at a local elementary school, but it all felt forced. Like you were just waiting for midnight so you could sing along to Auld Lang Syne and get out of there. 
The only moment you felt truly comfortable was talking to Llewyn. The two of you had been milling about by the punch bowl, awkwardly shuffling around when other guests tried to get to the finger foods. You had bumped into him, nearly knocking over the table, and he had caught you by the arm.
"Woah, easy there." Llewyn saved you just before you landed the punch bowl.
"Sorry, I'm a clutz and a clown," you said, wincing at your choice of words. But Llewyn chuckled softly, and you felt your heart melt just a little. Maybe this party wasn't so bad.
You shook your head, reminding yourself- as your mother has always reminded you- not to dwell on memories. Even if that memory was only thirty minutes old.
Three minutes to midnight. 
You grabbed two party poppers from a basket on the table and headed over to where he sat. You settled down down between Jean and Llewyn on the small couch, your limbs feeling acutely awkward as you straightened your back. 
Llewyn was nursing a glass of wine, his body turned slightly away from where you were sitting. You knew it wasn't because of you, but a little part of you wanted him to turn to you, to greet you with that lopsided smile. To look at you with those deep brown eyes. To say your name like it was precious.
You left him alone though, keeping to yourself and watching the TV coverage of the Times Square ball drop. Maybe I'll go there next year, you thought to yourself. Who were you kidding, you knew you wouldn't go. Big crowds in the freezing cold, the snow melting and soaking through all your layers. It wasn't your type of thing.
A woman with red hair appeared in front of you, her smile sweet if not a little patronizing. "Hi, can you make room? My knees are killing me."
From the corner of your eye you saw Llewyn look up at her, then down at the floor. There were two options here, and you knew which one you were going to choose. You wondered if he knew too.
"Of course," you said, and scooted over towards Llewyn. You were so close you would feel heat radiating off him, if he had any heat to give. You sat stiffly for a few minutes, avoiding even looking in Llewyn's direction. If you could just find a natural way to start a conversation, then you could talk to him. It was easy to talk to him, it was just so hard to start. Maybe you could-
"Hey," Llewyn bumped his shoulders gently against yours. "Relax, you know I don't bite."
You turned to look at him, blushing lightly. "Sorry, you know me. Parties aren't really my thing."
He chuckled, taking a sip of his wine. "Yeah, same here. But it's warm in here and it's cold out there and ive got fuck all to be doing, so here I am."
You nodded, beginning to relax as the two of you slipped into comfortable silence.
Two minutes to midnight.
"Did the Gorfiens ask you to lead Auld Lang Syne?" 
Llewyn chuckled, "yeah, they ask me every year. This is the first time I agreed though."
"Oh yeah?" you bumped your shoulders against his. "What changed your mind?"
His fingers fiddled nervously with the hem of his coat, picking at a loose string. "Earlier you, uh… you said it was the only part of the night you were looking forward to." He shrugged, "I dunno, I figured I'd make it enjoyable."
You blushed deep red, "oh- oh. Thank you."
He nodded, eyes dropping from where they had locked with yours. You saw his tongue dart out over his lips as his fingers played at a tear in the elbow of his jacket. He seemed nervous.
"I could patch that up for you," you murmured, reaching out to touch the rip. Your fingers brushed his, they were ice cold like always. He flinched a little as you touched him, but you didn't let it phase you. "It can't be great for keeping you warm if it's got a tear."
He shook his head, and you could tell he was about to protest. "Oh, you don't have to-"
"It's no problem at all," you interrupted. "You know my address, just come over any time." You gave him a gentle smile, squeezing his forearm affectionately.
"Thank you," he whispered.
You watched as his eyes flicked down to your lips. Involuntarily, you did the same. It would be so easy to kiss him. To place your hand on his cheek, his beard scratching against your palm, and just bring your lips to his. There were so many things you wanted to say to him, multitudes of words building up on the tip of your tongue.
He was so close. Just a whisper away.
One minute to midnight.
The news anchor on the TV announced one minute to midnight, pulling the two of you out of your bubble.
"If you haven't already got someone to kiss, you'd better hurry!"
Llewyn rolled his eyes, turning to you. "Never gotten a New Years kiss," he said with a chuckle. "Guess it's not for everyone."
"I haven't either," you admitted.
"It's a dumb tradition really."
"Uh huh." You nodded along, eyes drifting back down to his lips as he spoke.
"Fuck, I'm just ready for it to be over. I can go home with Jean and Jim, and tomorrow will be just like any other day. Jean'll be shit to me in the morning, and I'll stop by Merchant Marines and try to convince 'em to let me join, or I'll go to Joy's for lunch." He sighed, downing the rest of his wine, "Maybe I'll visit my dad, I don't fuckin' know. But… it's just another day. Not anything special."
He trailed off and you realized you'd been staring unabashedly at him the whole time.
"Fuckin' hell, I'm sorry," he ran a hand through his hair and down his face, scratching at his beard. "Put one glass of wine in me and I'm rambling on like my goddamn sister. I'm sorry I shouldn't have-"
"Come home with me-" you blurted, just as the guests began to count down from ten.
"Ten!"
"What?!"
"Nine!"
"Don't go to Jean and Jim's. Stay with me."
"Eight!"
"You don't have to do that, I've made arrangements…" 
"Seven!"
"Jean won't care, Llewyn, Stay with me."
"Six!"
"I don't wanna be a burden-"
"Five!"
"You're not. I want to take care of you."
"Four!"
"I- shit..."
"Three!"
"Let me take care of you."
"Two!"
"Can I- fuck. Can I kiss you?"
"One!"
"God, yes-"
"Happy New Year!"
His lips crashed into yours, his cold hands coming up to your shoulders. Your own hands rest on his cheeks, his beard soft and scratchy under your palm. Just as you'd imagined it countless times before. It was desperate, the two of you trying to be as close as humanly possible after spending years on the brink of this, dancing about each other from a distance. You didn't want the distance anymore. You wanted each other.
After what felt like a lifetime you pulled away, grinning as you rested your forehead against his. "I liked that," you murmur.
"I like you," Llewyn whispers in reply.
"Llewyn-" you give him a gentle kiss, thumb brushing over his jaw.
Mrs. Gorfien clinked a knife against a wine glass, bringing everyone's attention to the grand piano in the corner. "Llewyn, dear, where are you?"
"Fuck- the fuckin' song-" he scrunches up his nose in annoyance, "I'm sorry-"
You shush him, placing a finger on his lips. "Go sing. More kissing later."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
Ten minutes past midnight.
The air in the Village was electric. People were spilling out of clubs and bars, shouting drunkenly in the streets. They were throwing snowballs at each other, kissing strangers on the sidewalk. For once you wondered if maybe, just maybe, going out once in a while might not be that bad. After all, it had given you a kiss with Llewyn Davis.
You tucked the hand that wasn't holding his into your pocket, your fingers feeling the unused party poppers. You pulled them out and handed one to Llewyn as you made your way through a crowd outside a bar, leaning up to kiss his cheek.
You pulled the string on yours, sending confetti into the streets- and into the drinks of a few drunken passersby. It didn't seem to phase them.
Llewyn grinned mischievously, pulling the string on his own popper. "Happy New Year!" he bellowed, laughing from deep in his chest. His eyes were sparkling in the lights, big and bright. He looked good in the glow of New York City.
"This is a good look on you," you told him, taking his hand once again.
"And what look would that be?" he asked, squeezing your hand. You thought about it, searching for the right word as you waited for the crosswalk timer to change. 
"Happiness," you decided. "Mischief, laughter. New York. It all looks good on you."
He ducked his head, blushing softly. "It's because of you," he replied, knocking his shoulders against yours. 
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." He looked at you, just like you had wished for so many times. Like you had hung the moon and stars. "I'm thinkin' maybe tomorrow won't be shitty. Maybe tomorrow won't be just another day. Cause, fuck, now I've got someone. Now I've got you."
"And I've got you," you whisper back. "It's gonna be a good year, Llewyn."
"A good year," he echos.
End
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helisol · 3 years
Note
Wait so.. link to this quodo fic you mentioned in your tags?? I’m intrigued :DD
its only an idea but i will HAPPILY ramble about it in detail under this read more because i never finish writing fics but i do love sharing my notes.
they get Pretty Extensive considering this clocked in at 2k words. so strap in.
tl;dr: karaoke night gone wild leads to garashir and quodo setting each other up for holodeck shenanigans
so basically quark has acquired a karaoke program. everyone on ds9 is going mad about it and it's keeping the holosuites booked out for weeks
the main squad decides to try it out and they just jam to a mix of human, klingon and bajoran music. but lets be real it's mostly human music because i have a mighty need to see captain benjamin sisko tear up the dancefloor to Earth Wind & Fire’s September. so sue me.
anyway everyone has to sing, even odo, even garak and they all have a blast. the only person who is notably absent is Quark because Quark has a bar to run and Quark can't indulge in mindless fun activities when he has money to make.
Unless… Odo challenges him and he has to prove that Odo is wrong.
so yeah quark checks on the gang to see how they like this “Hooman Kara-oke” and if he can sell them some drinks and everyone is like “hey you should sing. just one song. we won't even laugh about your bad ferengi singing! we promise!"
and quark is about to say "ferengi voices arent that bad. im still not gonna sing tho."
but odo is ahead of the game and insults his grating voice and how it could only be worse in song. and because this is quark he’s like “actually fuck you. now I WILL sing.”
so he snatches the mic from whoever was about to go next and fucking Crushes It. 
while odo starts Looking Respectfully everyone else is just going "woooooo! go quark!" which makes quark just get even more into it
Takes His Jacket Off, Drops It On The Floor, Dances With The Microphone Stand. The Works. and he's also enjoying himself like "haha! suck it odo! i'm a good performer, it's how I make money!"
until he actually looks at Odo and Odo is Looking Back and then he’s like “wait what the fuck why is he looking at me” and Promptly Messes Up A Step And Falls Off The Stage-
so now quark has a twisted ankle and julian has to take him to the infirmary, which bums out quite literally Everyone and the gathering disperses, leaving only Garak and Odo.
garak as we know is but a simple tailor, but he’s Observant and his little lizard eyes did spy odo looking at quark and making the soup-version of heart eyes. we also know he is the gayest bicth on this station so of course he’s going to poke and prod at odo to see how he reacts.
garak waits until everyone is out of the room and asks odo if he can walk the dear constable home to the ol’ bucket. because odo looked a little melty during quark’s performance, y’know. it’d be bad if he turned into soup on the promenade.
odo denies this, of course, so garak is like “oh great then we can have a Chat :)”
and odo goes "wait no i hate talking” but then they’re in garaks shop and drinking kanar and garak is getting drunk off his lizard ass and talking about Julian because, again, he IS THAT BITCH!
meanwhile in the infirmary, Julian is trying to take care of quark’s ankle, but since he’s nosy and kinda Knows that quark wouldn’t just mess up his steps for no reason he asks about that.
and quark loudly goes “NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS JUST FIX MY DAMN ANKLE-”
which of course turns the nosyness up to 11 and has julian going 👀
"no i mean uh- i was distracted" "distracted? by what?" "nothing" "distracted by nothing?" "FIX. MY. ANKLE."
so julian sits him down on a biobed and gets whatever medical thingie fixes ankles in the 24th century. and while he does that he offers quark some wine to loosen the tongue about what made him slip.
anyway one thing leads to another and before you know it quark and julian are wine-drunk sitting on the infirmary floor and talking about garak. which suits quark just fine because it means he doesn’t have to admit he fell because odo was looking at him like he just revealed all the secrets of the universe along with his bare arms when he took off his jacket.
so we have two sets of gay idiots getting drunk in two locations and the next morning two sets of gay idiots have hangovers. yes odo gets a hangover. being soup does not exempt him from it.
julian and odo do the right, logical thing and take some meds to go to work and be productive and garak shows up in the bar to fight fire with fire and finds quark Already Doing That. 
so they just sit next to each other, beating their hangovers with more alcohol, and they get to talking.
garak goes on about how he took odo home and pretty much only talked about julian all night and quark is like “wow what a coincidence, the doctor and i only talked about you all night.” 
and it's all downhill from there because basically quark and garak just figured out that the garashir pining is Mutual.
"wait, julian was looking at me???" "yes." "AND I WAS LOOKING AT JULIAN-" "Yes."
and then they hash out this elaborate scheme to trap julian and garak in one of the Spy holosuite programs until they make out. this is garak and quark planning. how could they NOT make an elaborate scheme involving holosuites.
anyway i promised quodo so i will keep the ‘garashir makes out in the holosuite’ section a lil more brief
so within the next two days these two gay bitches whip up a new “The Adventures Of Agent Bashir” program, but quark has ‘adjusted’ the program a little so that it only ends when the main characters kiss. fun stuff.
garak and julian go through the program, havin a blast being spies, but at the end garak’s character gets “shot”, and they are so immersed in the story that julian is Actually Concerned and garak Actually Acts like he's in pain.
they kiss, the program ends, and garak- not actually shot- goes “haha gotcha, you wanted to kiss me before i died” 
so they walk out the holosuite one hour after their time is already up with a lot of hickeys and untied bowties. hooray.
But That’s Not What We’re Here For.
after garak and julian come down from the high of getting together julian asks Just How and Why quark would agree to help with this. quark Never helps Unless he’s helping himself.
and they realised Quark Has Played Them Like Cheap Kazoos. he just wanted to take attention away from himself and the unanswered question of why he suddenly fell off the stage.
so they go "wait, if odo and quark were both lying and obscuring facts and being weird about this, doesn't that mean- ohhh"
and it boils down to them deciding to help those poor fuckers because they are apparently off even worse than they were in terms of mutual pining.
they also hash out an elaborate scheme. this time it involves odo’s never ending hard on for finding reasons to throw quark into jail.
since quark technically violated the holosuite rules by locking garak and julian in there garak goes over to odo to report the “Crime”
after some back and forth about Why In The World Garak, Friend And Tailor, would report a crime to odo that doesn’t affect anyone’s safety Odo heads to the bar to investigate the holosuites and if there really was criminal activity.
he doesn’t ask quark for permission, mostly because he’d never ask permission to snoop around in quark’s property but also because quark is actually not there at the moment. for Some Reason he’s being held up in the infirmary. Weird.
so odo is looking through the holosuite recordings of the last few days, and he runs through what garak said was the illegal activity of locking them in there and just goes "Ah, alright, i can throw him in a holding cell for that.” but then he sees a message left by garak.
it was apparently left there today so garak must have prepared this which means something is afoot. and the message just reads "the karaoke session was recorded and you might wanna check what Actually™ made quark trip :)"
to which odo reacts with "hmph. why should i care. maybe hes just messing with me and quark tripped over a cable." but Odo looks at it anyway. respectfully.
and he watches the whole performance up until the point where quark falls. Multiple Times. until he remembers that this is a criminal investigation and he finally looks at the part where he falls from quark’s perspective, which is the important one.
and he just. looks right at himself. looking at quark.
and holy shit. he looked at him like he was going to shove him against a wall, not to beat him up, but to make out with him. he straight up looked like he was going to mess him up but not with his fists.
so he stands right in front of quark and replays that moment to see quark’s reaction and analyse how he fell. and sure enough quark Saw Him and his knees gave out.
after that he really just wants to walk out and spend the next 30 hours as a houseplant to cleanse his mind of any quark-related thoughts but uh oh. when he opens the holosuite door Quark Is Right There.
and odo panics and just pulls him inside, accidentally re-initiating the spy program.
“But how did Quark happen to be there at just the right time?” i hear you ask well it was OUR MAN BASHIR
while garak was at odos place telling him to investigate quark’s wrongdoings, quark himself got called to the infirmary for a check-up on his twisted ankle.
and julian kept him there, examining his ankle over and over, until garak came in to Insinuate that Someone is snooping around in the holosuites.
so quark, yelling "NO COPS IN MY BAR", hurries over to the holosuites on his totally fine ankle and bada bing bada boom, here we are.
with two idiots stuck in a locked holosuite.
odo is like "QUARK WTF" meanwhile quark is like "ODO WTF"
"YOU LOCKED US IN A HOLOSUITE" "NO YOU LOCKED US IN A HOLOSUITE" ”well it was you who pulled me in here" "but it was you who designed it like this"
anyway to get out they have to go through the program somehow. quark and garak programmed this very carefully. unless they follow the general story, there’s no way out.
and at first quark says "listen, its okay, we just have to kiss" to which odo replies with that kinda look you’d get from someone if you told them to swallow a cactus whole, for fun.
"you heard me" "quark if this is a joke-" "its not. i made rom pull an all nighter to put in the new sensors." "you paid him for this???" "no." "right of course."
and after a very quick cheek kiss doesn’t end up doing the trick the two actually go through the program properly. except quark knows the script, cheats a little, takes shortcuts and totally doesnt impress odo by shooting a few hologram guards on the way.
so they get to the end, where they believe odo is supposed to get “shot”, but turns out they mixed up the roles and quark is the one who gets shot.
And Odo Doesn’t Know. The Safeties. Are. On.
so he tearfully goes "WAIT NO- QUARK!" and quark is like "odo...odo come closer..."
"yes, quark?"
"kiss me"
"quark please dont die i'll kiss you and we'll beam you straight to the infirmary and-" "ODO JUST KISS ME"
and then they kiss. the holosuite controls unlock and quark thinks ‘oh great, now we can leave-’ but odo doesnt stop kissing him
and he doesn’t Stop kissing him until quark actually speaks up and has to go "HEY IF THIS WERE REAL I’D BE DYING BY NOW-"
"what?" "the safeties are on. I didn’t get shot. you just had to kiss me to unlock the controls-"
and odo is like "QUARK"
and quark is like "ODO"
and then odo gets up and is very convinced that he Must Turn Into A Houseplant For A Ferengi Lifespan To Atone For His Sins.
but quark says “no, wait. can you do it again?”
"yelling at you?" "kissing me."
anyway odo finally gets to fulfill his fantasy of pushing quark against a wall and quark finally gets kissed by odo like hes dreamed of for like 15 years or however long ago it was that they were first on terok nor together during the cardassian occupation.
the end.
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sanutopia · 4 years
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Reacquainted [F,A]
jeong yunho (ateez) x reader
Request: Hi can I request a yunho scenario where it’s been a year since your break up and somehow you guys end up meeting and getting back together
word count: over 1500?? i think
a/n: im sorry if this plot seems overdone or if it seems a little rushed towards the end, i’ve been having super bad writers block but i wanted to finish this before i studied for a final im taking this weekend :( other than that i hope you like it!! also i thought id let you know i miss ateez more than anything and need to see them immediately bye 
fluff, angst
“Seriously y/n? You have to get out more!” 
Your coworker, Collin, has been trying to get you to go out after work with him almost everyday for the past month. Sure, you could say yes just so he’ll be quiet, but he’s always been the wild type and that just wasn’t your scene. You used to have things to do after you got off work, like snuggle with Yunho, watch stupid movies that both of you could quote line after line, and eat all the takeout in the world (plus a whole bottle of red wine). But after you started this job about a year ago, your stress levels were at an all time high and work was catching up to you. The movie nights stopped, your happiness was dwindling, and although you didn’t mean it, the frustrations regarding your job were taken out on Yunho. You came home agitated and tired, and Yunho felt day after day the distance growing between you both. You both cared for each other and had each others best interest in mind, which is why you decided to break up. Since then, it’s been the same thing everyday; you wake up, go to work, come home, and go to bed. You only started getting closer to Collin a few months back, considering your desks are right next to each other. He was distracting, which was what you needed to get your mind off of Yunho.
“By ‘getting out’ do you mean going to the club and getting drunk with you? Not my thing.” You continue finishing your last report of the day, too concentrated to listen to what Collin was saying. 
“Well you need to meet some people! I feel like I’m the only person you’ve spoken more than 3 words to since you started working here.” 
He turns around in his chair and scoots it closer to where you’re typing away on your computer. You roll your eyes and scoff, finally turning your chair around to face him. 
“If I say yes, will you shut up?” he smiles when he hears your answer, “Yes, actually, I will.”
“Me and a few people are getting together on Friday night for dinner. You can bring a date if you want. Casual thing, you in?” 
You sigh and roll your eyes once more. “It’ll just be me, no date.” 
“Cool, then I’ll introduce you to one of my old friends. Don’t think he has a date either.” 
For the next couple of days you contemplate this whole possibly meeting a date thing. It’d be nice to enjoy some time out of the office with some work friends and to meet some new people. At the same time, you can’t stop thinking about Yunho. You weren’t sure that you wanted to get introduced to another guy, seeing as you still weren’t over him even after a year. It just didn’t feel right. Regardless, you go the next few days looking forward to this weekend. 
Come Friday, you get ready for dinner, dressing casual since Collin made you promise to not get too dressed up. You still looked classy, though, because God knows what guy Collin brought to introduce to you. Collin texted you the location of the restaurant and it turned out to be a few blocks from your apartment. It was the restaurant right next to the little diner where you and Yunho used to get chocolate milkshakes every Friday. The memory hits a soft spot and you contemplate bailing, but you wouldn’t hear the end of that at work on Monday, so ultimately, you decide against it. 
You enter the lobby where people are standing waiting to be seated and look around for Collin. You wander around the lobby and decide to stand against the wall, pulling out your phone to ask your co-worker where he is. As soon as you unlock it, you hear a laugh that is oh-so familiar along with a tone of voice that sends shivers down the expanse your back. 
“Oh, there she is- y/n!” you hear Collin shout. You slowly turn around and pray that he isn’t with him. Not that you don’t want to see him, you just hadn’t mentally prepared yourself to see his bright, smiling face again, or what you would say to him if he were in front of you. 
He’s towering over Collin like he does everyone, his hair is a darker shade of brown now, and if anything, he’s cuter than you remember. He looks just as nervous as you do, maybe more. Collin stands in the middle of you two and tries to make conversation. 
“Well, now we’re just waiting on the other two. They’ll probably be late... no shock there. Anyway... y/n, this is one of my friends from college, Yunho. We haven’t really talked but a few times since we graduated, so I figured we could catch up and get reacquainted. Yunho, this is y/n.” 
He softly smiles, as if he’s happy to see you and reaches to shake your hand. It’s warm and so much bigger than yours and you realize then how much you missed holding it and feeling it on your skin. 
“Nice to see you, y/n.” In a way, you’re surprised he’s acting like he’s never met you, but that would be a hell of a backstory to explain over dinner with your annoying co-worker, so you play along. 
Your other two co-workers eventually come, late as expected, and you all get seated at a huge circle table in the back of the dining room. Yunho sits next to you, partly because Collin basically forced him; not that he was complaining. It was awkward for the first fifteen minutes or so before everyone ordered drinks. The waiter got to you for your order and before you could say anything, Collin ordered for you. 
“She’ll have a glass of white wine. She needs to let loose a little.” He smiles at you as if he did you a favor, but you decline and ask for water instead. After seeing Yunho, you won’t be able to handle wine, because then you’ll be a crying slob on the floor. 
Yunho leans over slightly giggling, “You hate white wine.”
You finally let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding and giggle with him. “Red wine is so much better.” 
The rest of dinner consists of your three co-workers chatting about how they despise your boss while you and Yunho are at the other side of the table catching up. His voice is soft and gentle, sort of how it was when things were going smooth between you two. He looks genuinely happy, and that is your greatest wish come true. 
“You look beautiful as ever. It’s great to see you happy and not stressed. I’m taking it the job is going well?”
“I’ve gotten used to it now. Not as overwhelming as it was at first.”
You both spend the evening laughing about old memories while the other 3 slowly get more and more tipsy. The night ends with Collin and the other 2 going to the dive bar across the street so they can have some more beer. As you’re walking out, They invite you and Yunho to join. 
“Actually, I’m just gonna head home, I’m feeling a little tired.” 
You start to walk down the sidewalk until Yunho catches up to you. “Are you gonna walk by yourself?” you nod in response to him to which he scoffs and stays next to you. You know better than to think he would let you walk in the dark alone. He cares about you to much. He’s swaying as he walks, hands in his pockets since he’s not used to holding your hand. 
“Did you go out with anyone after-”
“No. Did you?”
He shakes his head no. That gives you a slight feeling of relief. You couldn’t imagine any other human loving Yunho aside from yourself. He was your first love and you thought he’d be the only one. You just didn’t know if he felt the same way. 
You get to the stairs of your apartment and fish the key out of your purse. You can feel Yunho’s presence behind you, but it almost seems as if he’s nervous. You hear him suck in a breath and then sigh. 
“Would you... wanna do dinner again sometime? Just me and you though?” 
You turn and look at his face. His cheeks are slightly blushed and his ears give away the fact that he’s flustered. He looks more nervous than when he asked you out the first time. 
“Are you asking me on a date, Yunho?” he nods slightly, and when you don’t respond immediately he starts panicking. “O-Or not.. If I got the wrong idea from tonight, or i-if you don’t want to give this another sh-”
You cut him off with a gentle kiss to his cheek which he swears electrifies his whole body. He always rambles when he’s nervous. His cheeks are even more red now, but his bright smile returns when he sees you pulling away, smiling back at him. 
“Does that answer your question?” 
“That’s one way to put it.”
The door is opened and you’re standing inside now staring at Yunho, who is standing on the doormat almost looking sad he has to leave you now. He goes to tell you goodbye and slightly starts to turn away from you. 
“I missed you, Yunho. A lot.”
“I missed you too. More than I could describe.” 
You open the door a little wider and motioned him to come in, to which obviously he accepts. You place your hands on his shoulders and reach up to delicately kiss his lips. He welcomes you and wraps his arms around your waist, then moving them up to cradle your head. As you pull away, his thumb brushes your cheek. 
“Feeling you kiss me again makes me not wanna stop.” 
You put your hand on top of his, “Stay the night...please...” 
He kisses your forehead, “I’d stay here forever if that’s what you asked.”
That night, you were finally reacquainted to the feeling of Yunho cradling you as you slept on his chest, and you swear you’ve never slept so sound until now.
-----END-----
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Soaking in a hot bath.
Used a CBD bath bomb.
Mason jar full of wine.
Am I doing this self care stuff right?
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