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songmingisthighs · 6 months

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Genesis

introduction pt. i | pt. ii | pt. iii

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ch. lxxi - tequilla shots, 10 to be exact

fashion mogul!mingi × reader

tw : mentions of sexual harrassment

buy me coffee ?

!! A T T E N T I O N !!

things aren't always what it seems but when even the truth is left unheard, what can people do? one musn't lie but what if the lie is more accepted than the truth? the scariest thing in this world isn't monsters or demons. it's people with no agenda and time to waste.

It musn't have taken a long time from the time Yunho opened the door to where you were next.

One moment you were folding Mingi's laundry in his room and the next thing you know, you were with the man whose underwear you were folding, the man who had been actively avoiding you, in the hallway, facing each other whilst sitting diagonally with a bit of space between you two. Neither of you had talked since Yunho excused himself out the door. It had been 10 minutes since you both sat down and it felt like one of you was waiting for the other to open a conversation first. It was a waiting game between the two of you.

Until one cracked first.

"I... Won't blame you for keeping things from me, I don't blame you at all," Mingi spoke out, voice cracking slightly as if his emotion was trying to get the best of him, "I just want to know why," he didn't look at you for one but as he spoke but you understood why he did that. You understood why he didn't want to be influenced by the look on your face as you uncovered the secret behind your break up with Hongjoong.

"Hongjoong and I met when I was still an intern at Couvang and he was an associate in his previous company, learning how to be a merchandiser and I contacted him to get connected to his boss which I failed to do and he felt bad for the rejection so he took me out. We officially dated two months after the rejection and we helped each other with our respective careers. Then he moved to work at The Gallerio and I was so happy for him because he got his dream job at his dream company and I got to accompany him. Considering the demands in his line of work and the clause in my contract, we decided to keep our relationship as close as we could by severely limiting our couple tweets and drowning those couple tweets in other tweets. We tried our best and it was proven to be effective, no one cared that we were together or they simply didn't know because after Hongjoong got his recognition, he stopped tagging me upon my request. Then comes the wedding. You would've thought that we broke up because of budgeting issues or guest lists or maybe an issue with our exes but nothing of the sort, the wedding planner even said that we were one of the most decisive and in tune couple she had ever worked with. Hell, we even went under budget and over the top somehow. I remember... It was one night after my dress-fitting, I brought my cousin whom we appointed as the flower girl and I told him about how her mom was grateful that we involved them simply because she now had something to do other than chauffeur her kids and attend to her husband. Hongjoong said that he felt bad that she had to go through life as a stay-at-home mom and I told him that I could see why she decided to become a stay-at-home mom because raising kids, being a chauffeur, taking care of her husband's needs, whilst still being expected to have a social life is a whole circus of its own and it was worth it and that I was thinking that once we start having kids of our own, I'd quit my job and be a stay-at-home mom myself. That night, we didn't talk more about that but I had a feeling that Hongjoong kept something from me. Turns out, by the end of the week, he packed his things while I was at work, waited for me to come home, then tearily said 'I'm sorry for doing this, I just can't respect someone who'd throw away their career, what they worked so hard for, to be a stay-at-home parent' then he hauled his ass out of my life and apparently to Europe before I could understand what he meant and it wasn't until I called his aunt from the countryside that I realized what had happened. He left me because of something that hadn't happened yet and I was so embarrassed that I failed in my relationship that I haven't even told my friends because I don't want them to think of me the same way," you chuckled bitterly.

You hadn't realized that you were crying because you were so focused on telling your side of the story until your face was cupped gently and you saw Mingi looking at you with a broken-hearted look on his face. When did he even got that close to you? It was true, Mingi expected that the reason for your breakup was differences or clashing opinions when you were planning your wedding. He even considered the possibility of one of you cheating and he hated himself for hoping that if that were the case, it was you who cheated because he was pissed at the situation. Something, anything that could justify your action which may or may not be based on shame. But never could he have imagined that it was because of something as stupid as employment or the lack of to focus on being a mom which he thinks is a noble thing.

In all honesty, Mingi had nothing to say about your situation because he felt disgusted. He was disgusted by himself for basically forcing you to revisit such a painful memory. How could he have done that? He wanted to apologize, he wanted to let you know how he never should have done that, forced you to share something so sensitive. But he didn't want to make things about him. He didn't want to make it about him because if he apologized, he knew you'd accept it and that would only alleviate his guilt but not take away your pain.

Mingi thought that the least he could do was to open up to you himself.

"H-have I told you about the gay allegation? M-my gay allegation?" He started meekly, afraid that you'd react badly. But through teary eyes that he soon helped wipe away with the calloused pad of his thumb gently, you stared at him with only curiosity and that got him to crack a small smile, the smile that you missed over the past couple of days. "Well... I... I also haven't told my friends this because over time, I think the truth became irrelevant and I'm just... Desensitized to it."

You could see that it was hard for Mingi to talk about it judging by how long it took him to form his sentence. "Mingi... You don't-" But he cut you off immediately.

"I used to have a mentor. He was my college professor and a prominent figure in contemporary fashion and he was like a father to me. He helped me land an internship at a creative house that often works with big brands and even after I started working there, he still mentored me. When Men's Today poached me to be an associate editor, he threw a party in my honour. That was the first time the photographer I had worked with often times groped me. He cornered me when I was alone in the men's room and he grabbed my ass, pulled me close to him and told me how his wife wouldn't mind him tasting me just to see how talented I was. I pushed him away and ran to my mentor and I told him everything, I told him what happened while crying and when he heard that, he cried too but he congratulated me. He said that it was... Part of the job, to be flirted with and even touched inappropriately without my consent and I can't complain. I can't report them. Not if I want to succeed and make a name for myself. But I was determined to break the cycle, I wanted to stop the harassment and just be known for what I can do but through every situation I was cornered and forced, and abused, I realized that these people are smart. There was no way I could prove that they sexually harassed me and they made sure I know that I will never be able to work in the industry if I report them. So I made a choice to work within the corrupted, broken system to protect people like me. Through the groupings, hand holdings, arm linking and cheek kisses in public, I let them happen because I didn't want to lose the reputation I had built on crying every night because I felt disgusted by myself for not having more spine about this issue, why did I let myself go through it? It never got easier, I just got numb, I guess."

The tears you shed before were from reliving your own pain but this time, it was for Mingi who had to endure all the pain and shame all by himself. Not to mention the fact that he couldn't even tell his friends, For you, your friends were aware of the things going on with Hongjoong except for the part where he said he couldn't respect you if you decided to give up your job. But Mingi couldn't even tell his friends that he was being taken advantage of.

"Mingi, oh my god, that's not just harassment, that's assault I think," you sighed, closing your eyes in dejection. Mingi bitterly smiled and nodded, "At best, I guess."

"Why are you telling me this?" you asked, hiccuping slightly.

At first, Mingi just pursed his lips, wanting to tell you that it was because he wanted to return the favour of being vulnerable. But he knew it wasn't true, it wasn't as simple as sharing pain because he could've told you about the time his dad left him which was a more common pain. He could've told you about the time he was bullied all through elementary school because he was lanky and nerdy and didn't seem like he had much in him. So why did he decide to tell you something traumatic that was still going on?

"I... I trust you," he said, shoulders relaxing as if admitting that relieved him of burden. "Don't you trust your friends too?" that question could've stumped Mingi because it was true, he trusted his friends. But with you, it felt different.

Carefully, Mingi let his hands envelop yours, the warmth that transferred slowly from his skin to yours, comforting you as soon as you felt his warmth, "I trust them a lot. They're basically my brothers, that's why if they didn't trust me, if they mocked me, or if they rejected me because of this, I wouldn't be able to take it. But you? I'm not saying that you're broken, but you've had your fair share of bitter pill in life, hard decisions you were forced to take, paths you were put on that was never your plan, hopes that were squandered by someone you trusted, you loved. So I believe that you'd trust me, you'd accept me despite what I faced."

Your heart clenched at his words. All this time you thought that he was an indecisive dumbass, a product of coddling, a stereotypical stupid jerk. Turns out he was just a child at heart who was never given the opportunity to make his own choice, that's why he didn't know what kind of decision to make when he actually had the chance to, how to react in situations that's troubling. It's not his fault he's a dumbass, he had just been living life the way people forced him to and he had been desensitized by his situation that he has the emotional ability of a 5-year-old. He's just a child at heart.

More tears poured down your cheeks, causing Mingi to panic, thinking that he had said the wrong thing to you. But before he could even apologize for making you cry, you reached over and hugged him as tightly as you could without harming your belly. "I'm sorry for not telling you about me and Hongjoong, not giving you a chance to choose how to react and not trusting that you could handle the information," you sobbed into his chest, taking him completely by surprise. "I shouldn't have done that, I should've told you but I was scared and ashamed of what happened between me and him. I thought it wouldn't have mattered anyway until Hongjoong showed up at the hospital and ever since then, I have been making the wrong decision." Slowly, Mingi's arms wrapped around your waist, reciprocating your guilt and accepting your apology. "I'm sorry too for leaving just like that, not having a conversation first," sneakily he peeked down at your belly and smiled tearily, "Thank you for accompanying your mom while daddy was being a dodo, bean." You pushed him, laughing genuinely for the first time in two days, "You're such a dork," you said as you pushed him lightly on the shoulder, now in a lighter mood.

You were about to sit back down in your previous spot when Mingi pulled you in gently flush to him so he could rest his cheek on the top of your head. It felt nice, you felt safe. Mingi felt secure like he was a fortress made out of the most comfortable, sturdy material. If that's a thing.

"So..." You sighed, nervous slightly, "What do we do now?"

"We face whatever comes next," then you felt him slink a hand around your waist, resting his palm on your stomach while his other hand used his thumb to caress the back of his palm, "Together."

network :

@cultofdionysusnet @sandsofire @kflixnet

taglist :

@ateezourstars @phenomenalgirl9 @90s-belladonna @yunhorights @yuntokkie @stopeatread @aestheticsluut @spooo00oky @kodzukein @galaxypox @mayonnaisehoeshit @maddiebabyxoxo @dreamlesswonder86 @charreddonuts @jwnghyuns @angelicyeo @axo-l0tl @gxlden-bxbyy @bbymatz @blaaiissee @kyume02 @aurora-tiny @senpai-of-doom @meowmeowminnie @thesolarplanetarysystem @seonghwaddict @miaatiny @soobiverse @alyssajavenss @yayaistime @juicy-red @moo-moo-bitch666 @camillelafaye

@randomness7198

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ravynfyre · 11 months

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I hit my limit today, and I think that makes me an asshole, but mainly I feel relief.

I have a friend I have written about before here. This friend and I had been close since high school. some close to 20 years ago, though, this friend got very, very sick and suffered a serious brain injury. I won't go into all the gorey details except to explain that this friend really has the functional intellect of a 12 year old, mainly, and the emotional maturity of a toddler because of this injury. They will never get better than they are now. that means that I need to be the mature one in our relationship now.

this friend has always been a bit self-centered... but we all are to some extent. but he brain injury has really exacerbated this part of them. to the point that they will literally throw a nasty, public *fit* and scream on facebook about how inconvenienced they are because the person who helps them in the care home where they live is not available one day because that person is getting *cancer* treatment. They will call that person out by name, tagging them, and yelling at them for not being there to do their laundry or whatever else... because the person is dealing with *cancer*. screaming and calling people out on facebook is pretty common for my friend. any inconvenience, real or perceived, is a sudden public blast, and they can get pretty hateful and hurtful when they say things there.

i lost count of how many times *I* have been put on blast, usually for not having dropped everything and driven the 4 or so hours each way to see them in person. (when I have to use food banks to feed myself and I still can't make ends meet, but, sure, lemme just bend over and shit out that tank and a half of fuel to do that) but I have also been put on blast for explaining to my friend that they are saying hurtful things to people who love them. Or for trying to explain certain social issues of the day. the other big complaint i get put on blast for is that my "new friends" are "taking me away" from them. (again, usually because i don't travel to see them, because i don't travel at ALL anymore, but what the fuck is logic to an emotionally-a-toddler anyway?) i've talked about some of this here before.

i didn't feel like i could just... walk away, though. see after their brain injury, all of our closest friends just... ghosted. (I'd already been ghosted because i moved away, but this friend was still often in contact with the rest of the gang.) my friend had no one left but family. just me. i couldn't go too... especially since they threatened on *several* occasions that I was the "only thing keeping them alive", they they would "die without me". yes, I know that's manipulative as fuck, but my friend was an incredibly smart person who is now a child, and remembers just enough to know what they lost... including all of their friends. i didn't want to be like the "gang".

but the constant public tagging on facebook about how i was letting them down, or how i must hate them, or how i was being taken away, or how i was rude and mean for asking them to not do hateful things... it's stressful. and that didn't even touch on all the vague-posting about "their friend who is being taken away from them" or "their friend who yelled at them for being a bitch to their helper" or "their friend who must hate them". i did get a few NASTY messages from some of the people they started talking to online who knew nothing about me but what my friend would post. it was exhausting. and if i asked my friend to stop, it would only get *worse* for a week or two as they pouted and screamed, until they literally forgot and then it would cycle back to the beginning. i finally broke down and just unfollowed. it helped a lot, as now, i only knew about the complaints when i got tagged and put on blast *personally* (which was about half the time they posted about me). but the tagging complaints didn't stop. i might have peace for a few days, or a few weeks... but, eventually, i'd get put on blast again for... something.

enough times, and i started to wonder... maybe i *do* suck for not finding a way to see them? i knew i wasn't talking to them as often as i "should"... but it was exhausting, and it negatively affected my health, but did it really or am i just making things up to avoid discomfort? i mean... they have a brain injury. my friend really doesn't understand just what they are saying sometimes. i should be the mature one here, suck up my discomfort, and just ignore the digs and the pokes and the nastygrams. i mean, i'm the adult, and, realistically, i don't make enough time for any of my friends because dealing with people *hurts*, and i should just get the fuck over that and... and find a way.

but it was a lot better, not seeing their posts unless they tagged me. but they would still stalk *my* facebook, and anytime i posted any of my social justice stuff, they would comment. sometimes it was a simple, "eh? i don't understand", sometimes it was something so for out of touch that it was a glaring reminder that they probably weren't capable of actually understanding the issues at hand. sometimes, it was an argument against my post or meme or thoughts, because those were "new friends ideas" or because they didn't get what i was saying, or because they genuinely disagreed with the idea.

for a while, I would try to engage... either to explain, or to ask what they meant, or to have an actual discussion... but when my friend wouldn't even remember what they were thinking when they made the comment in the first place... there was limited success. so i just started... ignoring the comments and questions, unless it was a real simple, easy to explain, non-confrontational thing.

so yesterday, i posted a meme about how everyone has preferred pronouns. my friend commented, "Ehh?" i should have just walked away and ignored it like i usually did. but stupid me thought this would be a safe one to tackle. so i asked if what pronouns that they would prefer. they answered that they had always used a specific one, so probably stick with that. so i asked if they thought it would be fair for someone to make fun of them for preferring a pronoun that matched their genitals. they said "nope!" I literally replied: "That was what this post was about. That it isn't appropriate to make fun of someone's preferred pronouns, no matter what... because EVERYONE has preferred pronouns."

my friend started yelling at me for "calling them out". then they proceeded to post to their wall that they were SICK of ME "calling them out". but, see... i was "calling them out" because my friend literally forgot that they asked me yesterday to explain the meme i posted. and had no idea how to read the previous six comments between us that were immediately above where they started screaming at me... but that didn't become obvious until much, much later in the fight.

and today... i just couldn't handle it. so instead of ignoring it and moving on, i responded that 1) i *hadn't* done anything of the sort, but 2) i really didn't CARE anymore if they hated it when I "called them out" because they *did* do and say shitty things sometimes. so if they didn't want me to say anything, either stop doing and saying shitty things, or unfriend me.

the responses were reiterations about hating when i point out when they are being nasty, screaming about how my "new friends" are taking me away from them, how they are "losing me to my new friends" (and I don't even know who these "new friends" are supposed to even be? I guess anyone who isn't THAT specific friend?) and some other things, that i genuinely don't even remember anymore... and i can't look them up, because they blocked me.

and my primary emotion over that? relief. relief and a fervent hope that they don't *forget* that they were this angry at me and unblock me again in a week.

this was my friend. my friend who has a brain injury. and i am relieved to be done dealing with them. i'm sad this happened, because if i could have just been a better person... i should have just kept my mouth shut or something. right?

my friend is a child because they literally can't not be. i was a child today because i lost my temper. but i'm not sorry, and i won't apologize, because i still just feel... relieved.

so i guess... i just need to come to terms with being that kind of a person.

anyway... sorry. i just needed to get that all out.

#it's a lot of words #about real life and not being there for people #about being the bigger person #about being the adult #or rather #FAILING to be the adult #and i wish there was a better phrase than put on blast #or calling someone out #except that's exactly the right phrases #i use them a lot here #sorry

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fleetsparrow · 21 days

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Story time (content warning tags up here):

#disordered eating #food talk #weight talk

As a kid, I was a bottomless pit. Everything that was food, I ate. All-you-can-eat places were terrified when my family came for dinner (not even an exaggeration; a local restaurant used to do all-you-can-eat beef ribs, and we would go through PLATES every time they ran it. Eventually, they stopped offering it at all).

How big is the plate? You can't add extra? No, that's fine, I'll just have some of theirs.

This was, as you can imagine, am incredibly healthy time for me.

Then, as I'm sure happened to many of you, the teenage years hit.

Suddenly, people were "concerned" by how much I was eating.

Before, we would go to restaurants and people would comment, yes, but they would be in awe. You are so small and you eat so much! Where do you put it all?

It was awe and maybe a little envy hidden in there somewhere, but never negative.

Never "should you be eating that much?" Never "why don't you save some for later?"

Them: Don't eat it all! You'll want to save room for later!

Me: I'll have room, don't worry.

Them: :/

My go-to retort was, "I'm a growing girl."

The new reply was, "Yeah, but which way?"

I used to get a laugh; suddenly, I got a warning.

[Note: This reply in particular always confused me because, well, I'm autistic and, friends, you cannot continue to expand only horizontally the way one grows vertically. That's not how proportions work.]

My hunger never changed. I was still always hungry, always ready for food, always enjoying my food.

But now there were consequences.

Somehow, I was being Bad.

So, like so many of us do, I cut back. I saved food. I stopped eating.

Not a lot. Not all at once. Not so drastically that people would notice.

But I skipped lunch at school.

Then, when I couldn't always do that (PE classes will straight up murder you), I would eat as little as possible to get me through the day. I'd throw away food before going home so it looked like I ate my full lunch.

I remember, the Worst Thing was when I'd forget to toss my food and I would be caught not having eaten it, so I'd have to make up a quick story about why I didn't:

[Teacher] bought us food

[Friend] brought extra food

I didn't feel good

I wasn't hungry

There is a certain level of psychic damage I'd take every time old clothes became no longer wearable. Some of this is because I do become very attracted to things I'm comfortable with. But the worst damage was when it no longer fit.

College probably saw the height of my disordered eating.

On one hand, I was on my own! This meant that nobody would judge me for eating "more" than usual because we were all strangers. There was no usual!

But, of course, things don't really change so much, do they?

People still comment on each other's weight. Every girl at the school limited her food and so did half the guys (actors, you know). Everyone was lowkey Obsessed with their appearance (that's Hollywood, baby!).

When I had money to go out, I would order whatever food I wanted and I would eat every damn bite of it. Why not? It's my money. It's my food. I'm going to get everything I can out of this.

But at the school, back at my "dorm" when I only had the food I'd brought or bought from the store...

Well....

I wasn't that hungry.

I think I was in college when I started doing it, but there was a point where I would weigh myself once a week, during the weekend (read: long) shower. I wouldn't consciously do anything about it. I wouldn't purposely stop eating because of it.

But I thought about it.

Every time I had dance, because it meant seeing myself in a mirror in a leotard.

Every time I thought about eating during days in my room.

Every time I squeezed myself into clothes that I knew didn't fit great, but they were OK, just a bit tight, I'm sure it's fine, haha.

[Part 2 of this will come tomorrow, because holy cats, I need to go to bed]

#fleet gets personal

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heresathreebee · 3 years

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Brackish and Briny Waters (five)

[Ralph Lamont x Female Reader]

Summary: Ralph apologizes and you've got baby brains, but sometimes life does nothing but kick you down. Previous Masterlist Next

Tag(s): 16+ | 1.7k words | more angst, baby fever, alcoholism, ghostly vibes

AN: GODDAMN Part 5 took me a lifetime to finish. As always no beta readers just poorly side eyeing this by myself and hoping it makes sense

THE NEXT MORNING

You barely stir when you hear the door open. You've all but forgotten last night, and yet you flinch when Ralphie tries to cuddle with you. He sighs somewhere near your ear and hugs you from behind anyways, lips brushing the nape of your neck and breath fanning over your back as he simply lies there, quiet as the grave.

There's no bruise but you can still feel his hand gripping your arm from last night. "You're being a huge dick…"

"... I know."

That is not good enough. You roll over to face him and watch his face twist when he notices the tract marks of dry tears on your face. He swallows and almost unconsciously takes your hand, smoothing his thumb over the back of your palm in a way that was meant to comfort him rather than you.

"I'm sorry." He opens his mouth again but he flounders for words. After a deep breath he continues. "We can't call Reagan. Because he won't do anything for us…"

You wait impatiently for him to explain.

"Sweetheart, if we called Reagan last night, he would have fucking laughed at us. It is step one down that slippery slope to the couple who cried wolf." He put a hand on your shoulder and looked you in the eye, "do you really think he would have done something?"

You think about it. If Ralph hadn't stopped you from calling him, what would you have said to Reagan?

I smelled exhaust fumes. Not an emergency, he would say.

I think he found us. What do you want me to do about it, too late now, he would ask.

We're in danger. I'll send a squad upstate, they should be there in 4 hours, he would joke.

"It was real," you insist. "I smelled fumes."

"I know. I believe you."

You squint at him threateningly and he doesn't give an inch. He doesn't seem like he's mocking you.

Ralph could be an asshole, but Reagan was infinitely worse. At least one of them gave a shit about your safety. The realization Ralph was right scared you more than anything. You were alone in this…

Well, alone together.

You sigh and bury your face in his neck. Your hair is tangled as shit and probably tickling his face, but your husband simply wraps you up in a tight embrace and holds you against him. It's all the apology you need.

END OF THE FIRST MONTH

Adjusting to your new life hit you like a sack of bricks early on a Monday morning. You woke up from a dream where you still lived in your tiny little apartment two minutes walk from everything. In a reality which felt more like a fever dream, Ralph was late for work, donning a tie and tweed jacket and kissing you goodbye for the day.

You never realized how much space there was in the new master bedroom. In the apartment, a queen sized bed nearly touched the walls and barely left room to creep around two night stands and a dresser, but in the new house you had room to lay on the floor and stretch, maybe put another piece of furniture in here like a bookshelf or something.

And the whole damn house was like that. You had an entire second floor to claim as your own! There is almost too much space… too much space for just the two of you.

God there's that thought again drifting into your mind unbidden, unfurling like a fern at the first droplet of sunshine. How many people does it take to turn a house into a home? Three should be plenty, your mind offers.

You busy yourself with measurements, regrouting the loose tiles in the kitchen floor, and scrubbing the blackened hell out of that downstairs bathroom. It seems to come to life beneath your hands and you can feel yourself getting excited to show guests the improvement.

The thoughts of turning your little twosome family into three persist over and over until you can't stand it any longer. Maybe it's finally time…

Ralph's late getting home by 5 minutes instead of 5 hours but he still looks tired. No mud tracks on his pants or hard set eyes. He's halfway up the stairs before you realize he's probably going to bed early.

"Hey!"

Ralph stops like it pains him. His head sags and his hold on the railing is tight like he'll fall if he lets go. The way he's wobbling he might. He is barely able to meet your eyes as he glances over his shoulder and when he does he simply grunts.

"I made dinner," you squeeze your hands together behind your back, "angel hair pasta and that sauce you love."

Ralph's eyes flicker in thought. "Be down in a second."

You wait nervously to see if he does come down. What if this is a bad idea? What if he doesn't take you seriously? Oh god what if he hates it, what if he calls you an idiot for even considering it?

Ralph does come back downstairs, hair wild from running his fingers through it. He seems to gain a small amount of energy while eating, not wanting to talk himself but asking how your day has been going.

You're definitely rambling right now. Ralph listens and listens, chuckling along but at some point he grows concerned and envelopes your hand with a worried expression on his face. "Jesus, I've never heard so many words come out of your mouth at once, it's like you're writing a dissertation over there. Are you OK, baby?"

You snap your mouth shut. God, you hadn't even come close to talk about kids for all your rambling. And then there was that weird smell…

Your blood runs cold as you recognize it. You lean a little closer to Ralph and he almost instinctively flinches away. If there's one thing you are sure of, one thing you could swear on god– Ralph Lamont has never flinched away from a kiss before. So he has something to hide. And that something has a sharp scent and explains his slow reactions and tired eyes better than anything else could.

"Have you… have you been drinking?"

It's the way he can't meet your eyes when you ask him. You know. It's beyond out of character, so much so that it's confusing and a little frightening for you.

A little drink here and there is, to you, to be expected especially considering the wealth of your new company. So why hide it? Is there something else he's not telling you?

You suddenly feel sick and too hot, ripping your hand away from his and getting up to leave the table.

He knows you get in your head sometimes and practically yells your name to stop you. "I'm… I don't know why I…"

Ralph sighs and buries his face into his hands, ashamed. All this suspense is twisting knots in your stomach. You sit back down gingerly, taking deep breaths to calm yourself down.

"Ralph," you warn, "you had better start explaining yourself right now before I lose it."

Ralph stares a hole into the table and worries his lip. The truth is he doesn't know what to say because he doesn't know why he did it. The students are easy, you are easy. Even in the toughest of times, at his lowest, he didn't drink so… what the fuck was coming over him?, he asked himself.

Something clicked. It rolled like fire in his belly given dry wood, smoking curling to the top of his throat and out of his ears. "They hate me."

"Who? Who hates you?"

"Everyone."

You looked him in the eye for the first time tonight and saw something dark looking in there. It makes you uneasy. "What makes you think they hate you, baby?"

Ralph's grip on his fork tightens until his knuckles are white before he gingerly sets the dishware down and deflates. He clicks his tongue and shakes his head with a sardonic grin.

"You wouldn't understand… and how could you? You never leave the house." He looks at you and there's a growing instability rising in his movements. "You… you don't see it. It started out as little nothings that I could ignore because it didn't matter that they didn't like me: I was new.

"Then it became lots of these little nothings. Staring and whispering and hushed silences. Tip toeing language and poking and prodding and testing me and my limits and it just… it just… it never got better…"

Rumors. It dawned on you that his frustration seemed intimately familiar to you as you had had to change schools once or twice due to a few terrible rumors that snowballed and got way out of hand. And you can imagine the sort of rumors that accompany a man with little interest in making friends who has a wife nobody knows anything about.

If you wanted to stay here long, you would need to change a few minds. You set aside your fear for a moment and make him look at you. You can see the unshed tears in his eyes and feel pity for him.

"I want to do that dinner party," you announce. "With all that's gone on, you probably didn't have the grand introduction you deserve. Let me show them how much you mean to me."

Ralph's shaking his head but he already knows you'll win this fight. For him it feels like begging for something he doesn't even want. He agrees because he already promised you could when you were ready and you needed to find new friends asap.

His sleep that night is fitful and the room's shadows seem to reach out like claws seeking his immortal soul. When the haze of whiskey finally dies down in his system he sleeps dreamless and wakes to feel somehow more hollow with despair than before.

Ralph Lamont has the distinct feeling things are going to get a hell of a lot worse before anything gets better…

@werwulfy @fundamentally-lazy @escape-your-grape @mimiscappinisideblog @go-commander-kim

#three bees writing #🐝🐝🐝✒#ralph lamont x reader #alex brightman #ralph lamont #black reader insert #1980s au #haunted house au

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kamosweasley · 3 years

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Not that damn song again (George Weasley x Reader)

Description : It's Christmas time so a cute fluffy fic about it sounds right. And I'm a simp for George (and Christmas songs), I hope you'll enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Words count : 2.5K

Author note's : lyrics from All I want for Christmas by Mariah Carey are in italics.

Tag list : @memekingofwwiii

It's terribly cliché but you can't lie, you love Christmas. There is no better time of year, with snow, hot chocolate, big sweaters, cinnamon cookies and decorations everywhere, how not to love it ? You don't understand people who prefer summer with its sweltering heat and sunburn and all those damn mosquitoes. But unfortunately for you, your boyfriend is a man of the second category whereas you are a woman of the first category. Which makes some things a bit complicated, like you grumbling when he wants to pull you out in the July sun or like him not being able to stand the Christmas carols that you play over and over again from the first of November.

“Not that damn song again …” he mumbles, hiding his face in his hands. “Darling I love you, but if you play this song one more time ...”

“Come on Georgie, it’s Christmas time ! Listening to Christmas songs is essential to my mental health right now. It's either that or stuff myself with cinnamon cookies with the delicious icing and not fit into my favorite sweaters anymore. You really don't like it ?”, coming to give him a back hug with puppy eyes. He never resists you with those eyes, he loves to see them disappear to give way to a big smile.

“I'm sorry my love, but at the end of the fiftieth listening of your playlist I started to hate Santa Claus and the sound of the bells.”

You're both sitting on his bed, he's finishing his potion homework but he's not getting very far with you in the same room listening to the same songs for over a month. He hates it because he loves you with all his heart, but he's starting to wish he could go deaf so he can't stand those melodies which haunt him even in his sleep. He would love it as much as you do, but the more the days go by, the more he understands this will never be the case. And he doesn't want to put limits on how you enjoy this time, he knows how much it means to you.

You put your hands under his sweater to warm your hands, the contact of your cold skin on his abdo makes him startle as you let out a giggle.

“Sorry, my hands are cold and I know that your mother's sweaters keep me warm so I took advantage of it …”

“I know darling, it's absolutely not to satisfy your wandering hands.” he says as he turns his head to kiss you, “I'm going to ask my mother to knit you some mittens, since it's very warm.”

“Good idea, I'm freezing to death right now.” George begins to turn around with a grin on his face, ready to warm you up in his own way but you haven’t noticed his purpose, “I'm going to go make hot chocolate in the kitchen, do you want some too ? I can bring you a cup, I make the best hot chocolate you've ever tasted. No offense to your mom who must make really good ones too, but mine is better.”

You often take him by surprise, changing the subject or not noticing how the situation is turning out and he always found it charming. You make him think of Luna a little bit, on another level but just as clueless as her sometimes. Your boyfriend smiles at you, returning to his potion homework. “Anything to please you darling.”

“You'll see, it's fabulous! I have a secret ingredient, if you're nice I might tell you what it is.” you put on one of his sweaters that you take from his suitcase before you wink at him and leave the room. He should take advantage of the silence of your absence to finish his damn homework in a hurry but he can't concentrate. Potion is boring and he really loves it when you wear one of his sweaters, it's way too big for you and that's what makes you so adorable. And you will come to spend a few days at the Burrow, meet his parents as his girlfriend and receive your own sweater knitted by Molly. He hopes that you will continue to steal from him even if you have your own.

“Here it is ! Taste it and tell me.” you say while putting the cup in his hand. You already know what he’ll say of course, everybody loves your hot chocolate, there is no reason for your boyfriend not to do the same. He thanks you before taking a sip of the hot drink, ready for a chocolate too sweet with some spice in it. And it is, but he has to admit that it is particularly good. He nods his head before he smiles at you. “You're right, it's the best I've ever tasted.” He puts his cup on the bedside table and returns to his parchment.

“So why don't you keep drinking it ? It doesn't look like the best hot chocolate you've ever tasted.” You're sure George didn't lie to you, but you still hoped he would act on his words. When he tells you it's the best hot chocolate he's ever had in his hands, you wish he wouldn't let go of the cup until he's finished it. Maybe you have a misplaced ego but this chocolate is your personal pride and you want your boyfriend to treat it well.

He runs a hand through his hair, not even taking his eyes off his homework. “I've never been a big fan of hot chocolate or Christmas cookies and certainly not of all those bell-filled songs. I’m sorry darling but I never liked any of this.” You melt before his eyes, he is sincerely sorry he doesn't like what makes you so happy and you think it's too cute.

"I'm just not a Christmas person. It's good because we saw family and have presents but still don't get what you found in this period.” You come and join him on the bed, sitting in a suit in front of him. “It’s simple. Let it snow, Jingle Bell Rock, All I Want For Christmas, it’s all about a magical time.” In his eyes you can tell that he doesn't understand at all what you're talking about, which is amazing when you consider how much time he spent listening to all those songs. “We are wizards. Our whole life is magical, I'm not sure I understand you on that point.” You grab a roll of parchment and hold it as if it were a microphone, looking at him with a glim in your eyes.

The best thing you can do to help him understand is to show him. You’re not a good singer, at least George never complains about it, perhaps because he tries very hard to keep his mind upright since he doesn’t like your playlist. It's unlikely you'll be able to change his mind, but a little a capella karaoke should put a smile on his face.

“I don’t want a lot for Christmas, there is just one thing I need. I don’t care about the present, underneath the Christmas tree.” While keeping your fake microphone close to your mouth, you point at your boyfriend with the same expression as Mariah Carey in the clip. “I just want you for my own, more than you could ever know ! Make my wish come true, all I want for Christmas is you !”

As it is impossible to sing Mariah Carey without playing the diva, you give it your all and when you see George's smile, you do it well. It must be your acting more than the words of love that make him smile like that, it's like he's trying to restrain himself from laughing.

“'Cause I just want you here tonight, holding on to me so tight.” On all fours you come and sit between his legs, facing him. He puts his cold hands on your hips passing them under the elastic of your jogging, a smirk on his lips. You shiver from the sudden cold on your skin but don't stop singing, your face getting closer and closer to his. “What more can I do ? Baby, all I want for Christmas is you ! You, baby.”

He's right in front of you. Your noses are touching, your eyes are immersed in each other and you melt like snow in the sun at the intensity of this moment. Damn you love him.

The hunger in his eyes devours you before his lips reach yours. A passionate, fiery, kiss that will get you high. Your head empties itself of all words and thoughts, your hands naturally place themselves in his hair and behind your closed eyes you imagine his smile, his eyes shining with mischief, his hand holding yours and all those little things that make you fall for him. Over and over again.

Gasping for air, the kiss is stopped. You're almost dizzy, head spinning with butterflies messing around in the belly. Liking George Weasley drives you crazy, there's no telling, you've never felt that way about anyone else. Before him you'd never been that high, you'd never had a simple kiss that made you tremble, you'd never dreamed of spending the rest of your life with someone. George Weasley is the kind of man you should treasure, marry and have as a father to your children. For the simple reason that he will be wonderful in all these roles, with him everyday life will never be boring, he will always have the words to make you laugh or smile. He will give love like no one else to his children, an exemplary father who will take care of his children as if they were the greatest wonders in this world.

You have no doubt about it, your boyfriend will offer a wonderful life to the woman he chooses. That's why you're not going to let him go. Your lover.

You suddenly open your eyes as you feel yourself tilted to the side with George, he's still holding you against him and you land softly on the comforter and pillows. You're lying against each other and George slips one of his legs between yours so that they get tangled up. “Now we’re good darling.” He kisses your forehead and plays with a strand of your hair, it's so peaceful. “I haven't finished the song.” You feel his mouth smiling against your forehead. “Who cares ? Certainly not me, I heard what I needed to hear. I think I understand now.”

“Do you ?”

“Yes, but I still hate Christmas songs.”

You lean on your forearm to look down on him, looking pouty. “C’mon ! You’re overreacting, this song is brand new. It's only been out for a month, you can't already hate it.” He grabs you by the shoulders and applies pressure to force you to lie down, not softened by your pouty air. “You listen to it all the time and if not, you sing it. Believe me, one month is enough to get sick of it.”

After being a diva a few minutes before, you're having fun being a diva again because after all, you can't talk about Mariah like that. And you can't help but defend the honor of your favorite Christmas songs. With a burning gaze, fists on your hips and a somewhat condescending tone, you fight back. “It’s Mariah Carey so it will be a massive hit, I’m sure of it. And at least, I’m sure you will think of me every time you’ll hear this song for the rest of your life.” Smiling at you, he adopts the same facial expression and flutters his eyes saying to you in a sweet voice: “The only way I'm going to hear this song again is from you. It's a Muggle song, no one is going to know it among wizards.”

Rolling on yourself to be flat on your stomach, half on George given the proximity that the bed offers you, you give him a charming wink as you rest your chin on your hands.

“That’s what I’m saying. At the end of each year you will hear this song many, many, many times and you will think of that moment when I sang it to you in your dorm at Hogwarts. You will see the scene again as you hear me singing it from the other side of our house. Because we're going to spend our whole lives together.” Since you're already half on top of him, he has no problem placing you on top of him, kissing both your cheeks and your forehead as you go by, making you giggle. “You’re a genius. You really thought of everything.”

You mess his hair before wedging your head in his neck, breathing in his scent. You smile against his throat and you know him well enough to know that it makes him smile back. “How could I want to live without you ? You know how to make yourself indispensable Georgie, it's almost annoying.” You love it when he runs his hand through your hair, it's the most relaxing thing ever. His other hand traces back and forth in your back, making you a little sleepy. This man knows how to deal with you. “Because you thought you were the only one who thought of everything? I would never let you go.”

If you could stop time and stay like this forever, you would do it without hesitation. You're comfortable in a bed, just the two of you, your hearts are beating at the same rhythm and you're in love. Then it smells like hot chocolate and you've managed to make him smile to a Christmas song. You never want to forget this moment. “Fine by me Georgie.”

You can't resist the temptation to hum Last Christmas, but George's caresses make you fall asleep little by little. You stop before the end of the song and in a few minutes you fall asleep on him. He kisses the top of your head, finding you absolutely adorable. You always manage to fall asleep quickly when you are being tickled, which makes him very tender and amuses him a lot. He often teases you about it, it always annoys you and he finds it even cuter.

Feeling your body rise slightly to the rhythm of your breathing, he starts humming the end of Last Christmas. He takes advantage of you being asleep, so you won't be able to talk to him about it someday. Continuing to run his hand through your hair and humming Christmas music, he smiles as he looks up at the ceiling. You are with him, alone and calm, in perfect harmony and he always liked to feel the beat of your heart when you cuddle. It's that kind of perfect moment. And he wishes it would never end.

#george weasley #george weasley fic #george weasley imagine #george weasley x reader #george weasley fluff #harry potter #christmas #christmas imagine

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palimpsessed · 3 years

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So @captain-aralias did one of these and invited other writers to do the same. And I wasn't really going to because it feels a bit late now and also I've done quite a few other year in review posts for 2020. But then I got to thinking that it would be really nice to have one of these for each year to look back on and compare, which convinced me. So, here we go!

If you’re a writer, I’d also encourage you to steal this. Tag me on your post so I can see your thoughts! 🥰

List of Complete Fics for 2020 1. At the Top of a Tower, With You- General, 900 words 2. Use Your Words- Teen, 16k 3. A Man of Letters, or Five Times Baz Retreats and the One Time He Doesn’t- Teen, 54k 4. To the Manor Borne- Teen, 43k

Total: 4 fics, 113k words

Every one of these fics was written for an event, which, realistically, is the only reason they got finished. I have so many ideas I'm working on all at once, and I came into fandom with a focus on making art, so to actually find the motivation to sit down and write/finish/post a fic was entirely deadline based. And it's a technique I'm sure I will also employ in 2021.

Best/Worst Title?

Well, I've mentioned a few times before that I usually have a title before I have much in the way of a fic concept. I don't really dislike any of the my titles, because they all did exactly what I needed them to do, which was help me focus on what I wanted to accomplish in the fic. Comparatively speaking, though, I can answer this.

Best: Use Your Words - succinct, idiomatic, a book quote/motif that also has the potential to be a spell, does what it says on the tin, is probably what all of us are constantly yelling at Baz and Simon to do throughout the books and the fic itself

(Honorable mention to A Man of Letters because that title forms a perfect heart shape when viewed on mobile on AO3. ❤️)

Worst: At the Top of a Tower, With You - this is also a quote and it fits the fic perfectly, but it is a bit of a mouthful and it has a comma in the middle of it, which, while I love commas, feels a bit off-putting in terms of a title - also, it's always kind of bothered me that it's a Baz WS quote used for a CO-era Lucy POV

Best/worst summary?

Again, I don't really dislike any of my summaries.

Best:

To the Manor Borne: The gang decides to spend Christmas together at Pitch Manor. Romance, hijinks, and holiday cheer ensue.

Anything that lets me use the word hijinks is always good! - it's short and sweet - it does a fair job of setting up the premise for the fic and giving highlights, without giving anything away

Worst: A Man of Letters

I'm not going to include this one because it's so long, I had to cut down the version I posted on tumblr to fit in the AO3 field, which is really why I rank it below my others - it effectively sets up the world of Simon and Baz in Regency England prior to where the story starts, but it is prohibitively long - and it's set up, not summary, so it also loses points for not doing what it purports to do - I could have said exactly what this fic was in one sentence: "Simon and Baz meet at several Regency-appropriate venues over the course of a London season and reflect on their acquaintance in letters", but instead I did the full book jacket version because it was more interesting to me.

Best/Worst First Line?

Oh, this is interesting. I can honestly say that I have no idea where this will go. Going to pull up my docs and find out! Okay, since I only have four fics to consider, and I'm feeling split, I'm going to do two for each. I feel good about my words, but I will say that half of my first lines actually provide information, and the other half are incomplete thoughts. Those were stylistic decisions I made, but when taken alone, it does somewhat limit the effectivness of a sentence when it can't stand without the rest of the paragraph. Perhaps that decision will lure readers in for more?

Best:

In the end, we wind up at Pitch Manor. (To the Manor Borne)

I know that you won't be surprised when I tell you that I do not like writing letters. (A Man of Letters)

Kind of interesting that these both contain key words from the titles 🤔

Worst:

I'm not sure how I'm supposed to do this. (Use Your Words)

I love how the title seems to be answering Baz's question when the two are put together like this 😂

Strange that it should end here, where it all started. (At the Top of a Tower, With You)

The title also seems to complete the first line in this one, too. I'm learning about my writing as this goes on, so that's cool!

Best/Worst Last Line?

Hmm. Okay, again, no idea. Also, a little leery of including last lines for anyone who hasn't read the fics they're from yet. (Tho I guess it's unlikely those people would be reading this😆) But let's see what we've got.

Use Your Words and A Man of Letters have very similar final lines, and both are somewhat spoilery.

Best: The ending of A Man of Letters felt risky to me, in the way that it is formatted and changes tone from the rest of the story. It was something that happened as I wrote it and I loved it. I had no idea if readers would like it, if they would feel like it worked as an ending, but I felt strongly enough about it to let the entire fic hinge on that and I think it really paid off. So, without giving you the actual last line, which is only one word, I'm going to say that one is my best ending.

Worst:

To the Manor Borne: "Carry on, Simon."

It's not bad, it's just not mine.

Looking back, did you write more fics than you thought you would this year, fewer than you thought, or about what you predicted?

I did not set out to write any fics in 2020. I was supposed to be taking a break from writing. I've been an aspiring novelist for half my life now, and have been going through major ups and downs with my writing. I decided I needed to re-evaluate and figure out if writing was something that was even going to be able to make me happy anymore. The answer is: YES! Just…not original fiction. At the moment. I'm happiest when I can write for the sake of writing and not have to DO something with that writing. Which is why discovering fan fiction was AMAZING!!!! 🥰🥰🥰

To actually answer the question, yes, I wrote more than I thought I would. I also wrote exactly as much as I thought I would, simply because these were all things I signed up for (with the exception of my Countdown fic, but I committed to it as if it were something that required a sign up).

I have a lot more ideas for 2021, but I don't know how many of them will come to fruition. I'm not putting pressure on myself to have to do anything beyond what I sign up for again, because it did work out so well for me starting off.

What pairing/genre/fandom did you write that you would never have predicted last year?

I mean, the pairing and the fandom were in no way a surprise. 😆 They're my only ones, so those were both a given. The genre is also not surprising.

What's your favorite story this year? Not the most popular, but the one that makes you the happiest?

A Man of Letters, without any hesitation. I adore it so much. It's the kind of fic I know I will unabashedly sit down to read over and over, even if I'm the one who wrote it. I had one reader to please and it was ME. By far, my most self-indulgent fic.

Okay, NOW your most popular story?

That depends on the metric.

To the Manor Borne leads in Comments (107), Kudos (153), and Hits (1992), and Use Your Words leads in Bookmarks (26).

But since To the Manor Borne is top in 3 out of 4 metrics, I'll say that one.

Story most upderappreciated by the universe?

I mean, the least popular by a wide margin is At the Top of a Tower, With You, but I don't know if I'd call it underappreciated. It's short, it's angsty, it's got a very unusual style, it's Lucy POV, it's the first fic I wrote and posted. I didn't really go into it with high performance expectations. I'm proud of it, I just didn't expect it to be popular. It would be nice if more people read it, but I'm not broken up over it.

Story that could have been better?

I'm not even going to touch this one. Everything can always be improved upon, but if I go down that route, nothing will ever be done. This is one of the things I have come to appreciate about traditional art versus digital. With traditional, there is only so much you can do before something is permanent and you have to live with it. It's an exercise in letting go and acceptance. Digital is flashier and more flexible, but I could (and have) spend months on a single piece and never feel satisfied, never stop tweaking. I think that's also the reason I started to hate my novels.

Sexiest story?

Based purely on overall vibes, I find the understated tension of the Regency the most appealing, so I'm going to say A Man of Letters. I didn't actually stray into sex territory in any of my fics (though Simon and Baz have had sex by the time To the Manor Borne starts, and refer to it, and probably do it "offscreen"), but A Man of Letters is the one that feels sexiest to me. Lots of thirsting!Baz and feral!Simon and sensual hand touching (how risqué!) - and YEARNING. That, to me, is the sexiest vibe of all. So. Much. Yearning.

Saddest story?

At the Top of a Tower, With You - for this one, I tagged "angst without plot" and I stand by that. It's Lucy losing her connection to Simon at the end of CO and trying to find a way to reconcile herself to leaving him alone again. I gave it as much of a hopeful bent as I could, with the refrain of Baz's spoken "love" to cling to, but it's very sad.

Most fun?

To the Manor Borne - All of my fics have their fair share of angst, but this one also has some good, silly, holiday fluff thrown in. Since I wrote it for the Countdown, each chapter was based on a different prompt, which led to this one going in all sorts of directions no single fic probably ever should. Plus, it has the most Shepard, and Shepard always makes things more fun.

Story with the single sweetest moment?

Oh my god. I don't know. No, never mind. I do. It's To the Manor Borne, but it's split between the two gift giving scenes, the Constellations and Secret Santa/Gift Giving prompts. These were private moments between Simon and Baz, sharing themselves with each other, being vulnerable, and communicating. It's the gifts they give each other, yes, but it's more so the reasons they chose those gifts, and how they show part of themselves and share their love for each other, through those gifts, that had me in tears writing those two scenes. I'm super proud of them.

Hardest story to write?

Use Your Words - it was written for an exchange and that made it really hard to write it knowing there was this pressure of making my gift-ee happy with the fic. I'm proud of it, and they really liked it, but the anxiety was too much for me.

Easiest/most fun story to write?

A Man of Letters - if there is a fic better suited to me as a writer, I haven't met it. I started writing after reading Pride and Prejudice in high school, so I started out writing Regency and I spent years and years and years of my life obsessed. When I transferred into college, an administrator I had never met before heard my name during orientation and said, "Oh, you're the Austen scholar." (It is a small, private college, and I was a transfer, so the pool of students was even smaller. But still. Many years later, I'm clearly not over it.) I also did my senior thesis on an epistolary novel (Frances Burney’s Evelina), and my English Lit emphasis was for that time period. So, I felt like I had been preparing for this fic my entire adult life. 😂

Did any stories shift your perceptions of the characters?

I don't think so. I tend to let my writing be dictated by the characters, so I'm always following their lead. Sometimes they'll do or say something that surprises me and takes me down a route I didn't necessarily foresee, but I don't think there was ever a point where one of them did something that made me rethink who they are as a character.

Most overdue story?

I will say A Man of Letters, since that one felt like a culmination of my seventeen-year-old self's wildest writing dreams. But I should probably say the Scooby Doo AU I still haven't managed to finish, because that one has been a WIP since I joined the fandom. Oops. (I'm hoping when I look over this in a year, I can feel smug that it's finally done.)

Did you take any writing risks this year? What did you learn from them?

Writing at all was a risk for me! And writing fan fic for the very first time! Writing an entire fic told only through letters. And then ending it in a completely different style from the rest of the fic. Doing a multi-chaptered fic for the Countdown, using a different prompt for each chapter, and publishing a chapter every single day for thirty days (with the exception of two days that had art). Signing up for fandom events in the first place!

What I learned from taking risks in my writing is the same thing I learned when I took risks in my art this year. I have a much better appreciation for what I've done when I push myself, I feel better about the end product, and I like it longer. I think it's really good for me to challenge myself creatively.

This year's theme and the story that demonstrates it most?

Oh boy. Um. Therapy! Both Use Your Words and To the Manor Borne had their big HEA moments built around sending Simon and Baz to therapy. I don't think that's likely to change for future fics, either. I feel like therapy as the theme for 2020 seems very fitting. (Also, I think I keep sending the boys to therapy because I'm trying to get myself there…)

What are your fic writing goals for next year?

Just to write what I want to write, have fun, not put any pressure on myself, and to take risks in my writing and my art because it will help me to grow.

#fan fic year in review #my fic #at the top of a tower with you #use your words #a man of letters #to the manor borne

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hoopdiddies · 5 years

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I'm Not Over You// Ben Hardy x Reader (10.1)

A/N: The last part! Here you go! Thanks for supporting the entire series, guys. Means a lot ♥ ♥

Summary: A wedding brought you apart and it will be a wedding that will bring you back together

Warnings: Microscopic angst and FULL ON FLUFF

WC: 3k

Tags: @haendel-me-with-care

@mrsdoradominguez-barnes

@mickmoon

@lakef

@mrsmazzello

@valeriecarolinaw

@queen-turtle-boiii

@loveandbeloved29

@hazme2

@boherahpsody

Parts: 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

"What- I thought Gwil- never mind, did I hurt your shoulder?" You stumble over your words and he chuckles, the curve his red lips are sporting making your insides melt.

"No, you didn't."

"Oh thank heavens. Sure I didn't add to your injuries? " You had to say it but luckily, he shakes his head good-naturedly and seems to have shrugged off the issue. "I'm okay now. I've been for so long actually." At least you've got the conversation going, against the odds of you doubting that it might've ended up awkward with how long you haven't been in touch. You smile crookedly and rub your arm, sighing profoundly to say another word but as you open your mouth to do so, Ben beats you to it. "What about you? How've you been?"

You shrug. "Same old but tortured...and pissed...at Joe...for doing me injustice like that." He rubs the back of his hair and cocks his head to one side. "Oh? Tell me about it."

You give him a brief, speculative look– thinking that it's a miracle you're talking normally like you haven't kissed each other the day you left him lamenting on a hospital bed, been in contact for an entire year and made love with your eyes during the ceremony– in that order.

You snap out of it and look around the busy reception. "I- well-"

"To make it easier, let's head out for a walk on the beach, shall we?" Ben steps aside to let you leave before him and you tuck a tendril of your hair behind your ear, nodding as you walk ahead. He follows you out and you glance over your shoulder, looking past him and seeing Joe wiggle his brows at you from their table– to which you widen your eyes in annoyance and a little gratitude.

Your walk has been graced with the twinkle of a thousand stars and the calm splash of the evening waves against the shore. You've let your hair down from the tight bun you've put it in and taken off your sandals to traipse along the water while Ben remains along the dry sand to stay practical– not that you aren't. He just has his shoes on while you're holding onto yours.

You haven't strolled far from the party with the lamps spanning from the vicinity within the reception still present as you tread along. You've told him all about Barcelona and your studies and everything else concerning your life there; so far it's been good and jolly. He's taken a new project and is in the process of filming, something you've congratulated him on as well– the previous one being his full recovery and you didn't bother to bring up the prior events to that, it might just lead to something you'd lose your voice to talk about. It's a relief that you are able to share a few laughs in between, something you thought wouldn't be possible anymore. You haven't talked to each other like this is ages.

"I guess we're both working our fingers to the bone." He chuckles and stops in his tracks to enjoy the breeze. You involuntarily mimic his stance and stand semi-still on the water, tossing your sandals onto the driest part of the sand. "I guess. Business before pleasure they say."

"Well my business is my pleasure so it seems like it only applies to you." The smile on his face widens thoroughly and you scoff underneath your breath, swinging your leg back and forth, creating mini splashes. "Excuse me, it applies to neither of us. I love working for something I know will finally lead to my dream."

He hums and bends down to pick up a pebble, casting it smoothly against the water and makes three skips. "It just occurred to me that you never once told me anything about your dream to become a doctor or anything." You give him a fleeting smile and shake your head, crossing your arms as you begin admiring the sky. "If I had told anyone, it wouldn't come true."

"Seriously?"

You raise your hands up briefly in defense and let out a chuckle, bending down to pick up a pebble to skip as well. "I'm living proof that it's effective, you should try it sometime." While you cast your pebble and watch it skip, he studies you intently and with great focus, drawing in a sharp breath before taking off his shoes to join your spot in the shallow water. He sets it aside and stands next to you, lifting his gaze up to the sky and then to you as you take in the cluster of stars dotting the heavens.

The gleam in your eyes as you beam at the starry view puts him under a spell and you sense his piercing stare, encouraging you to catch his fixed look. "What is it this time?"

He gulps, his mouth going dry. "I've sent you a message a couple of weeks back. Never got a response from you..."

You angle your head to one side amusingly. "I replied? Maybe you just don't check your inbox that much- and wait, I changed my number, how did you-"

"Our boy, Joe."

Of course. Joe really needs a new girl in his life, he must be exhausted from being such a mediator.

"And yes, I don't check my inbox a lot. Busy as a bee lately." He adds with a defeated smile present. You weave your fingers together, keeping your vision limited to the horizon yet sensing his eyes penetrate through you.

A little shy to let him see your blush creeping up your cheeks, you tear yourself away from his gaze and sigh inwardly. "I know that look somehow."

"For the third time asked in this lifetime, would you care to finish the dance we had at the after party? A dance to satisfy all the dances we never had the chance to finish. "

Your mouth shamelessly hangs like an attic door with loose hinges at how he was able to remember that. You recall his attending physician say that there would be no risks of amnesia or any sort of memory loss, although he shouldn't be able to recall minor details.

But then your dance wasn't a minor memory.

Ben's still waiting for your answer and you recompose yourself from the jaw drop, stuttering in the slightest as you speak up. "Uh y-yeah. I mean, we never get to finish dances, am I right?"

Without tethering himself from taking your hand in his, he draws you close to him, the movement of your legs making small ripples and swishes in the water. You can't keep a firm eye on him and as he understands your uncertainty due to how long it's been since the pair of you have closed a distance, he manually positions your arms around his neck, putting a little forethought into snaking his hands around your waist to ease you into it again.

"Hey, like old times, right?" He cajoles softly and you look up at him.

"Like old times." You repeat after him and find it easy to stare into his eyes again, once more submitting yourself to the metronomic beat of your heart. He initiates with light sway, feeling the crashing waves beneath your feets put an effect to how you're moving. With you studying every detail of his face adoringly, you notice the small yet noticeable scar on the near left of his forehead; a small residue of his injury. You frown as you reach up to trace your finger smoothly across his scar, your heart breaking at the memory of that night.

Ben takes notice of your flitting expression and cups your cheek to alleviate the worry you've put yourself in at the sight of his scar. "Hey, hey. Don't worry about it, I'm okay now."

You hang your head apologetically, chewing on your bottom lip with the urge to bring up what you wanted to suppress out of guilt.

"I'm sorry if I left you like that. At the time you really needed me the most, I scrammed and ghosted you for an entire year. I broke my promise, your arm and a small fraction of your skull," as inappropriate as it is to laugh a little at it, you let it slip past your lips anyway to give it a stretch and lighten the weight on your shoulders, "and it's all thanks to Joe for making up that worst case scenario."

Joe did say you'd hurt him on every possible level– ranging from physical to spiritual. Though you didn't afflict him physically per se, your carelessness on the highway did. "I'm so sorry, Ben, for letting my emotions get in the way of what we had. Our friendship. You loved someone else then and being in a way cursed with unrequited feelings, I-I had to distance myself."

He assures you with a loose smile, twirling you under his arm and leisurely pulling you back to his body. "Every bit of it is alright. I had sworn on the day we met that I'd protect you with every fiber of my being and I should be the one that's sorry. All you ever did was love me," he stares down at you intimately, lifting your hand to his lips and kissing your knuckles, "though how clueless and unbearable I was," a kiss to your wrist, "through all my complaints and nasty fits," a kiss to your cheek, the sensation making you giggle slightly, "through my clumsy tendencies, " a kiss to your nose, "through all my mood swings after a bad day on set," an elongated kiss on your forehead, parting away deliberately before flicking his eyes to your lips and back to your Y/E/C orbs. He gulps audibly at how he's asking you for permission to do it. "When I couldn't return that love to you because I was blind enough to let Rosy stay. For loving me...in both my lowest and highest."

He's risking a few inches in but you can tell he's holding back. You slacken your arms from his neck, little by little dropping them to your sides as his green eyes finally overwhelm you.

The corner of his eyes crinkle as he smiles, breathing out the words you've long waited for. "You've held my heart in your hands even when you were miles away and though you won't be staying for long, I'll always be waiting." In the same way you had when you left, you tip your head back to let his lips meet yours only this time it doesn't take him by surprise. Your lips don't move against each other for a few seconds and you pull away, breathless.

His green eyes are wide yet flecked with awe, unruly brows lightly creased together with small strands of his combed back, blond hair falling into them but they soften as the smile on his face widens. "You're not with Joe, are you?"

You chuckle, shaking your head and heaving out a defining exhale. "I never was. You're not with Rosy anymore, are you?"

He shakes his head as well and it appears the blissful grin on his face won't be coming off anytime soon.

"Long done. I love you, and you alone."

You'll be blaming him later for the ear-splitting grin now etched on your face.

"I love you too, Benjamin."

He throws his head back in relief and lifts you up in his arms, tilting his head back as he savors the full feeling of your lips on his, the kiss gradually becoming open-mouthed.

As if on cue, the fireworks meant for Rami and Lucy come launching up into the sky and bursting into bright colors, the sparks raining down and vanishing into thin air shortly after. Cheers of the people emanate from the party as Lucy and Rami share the same kiss from outside at the same time you and Ben are. You pull away with unridable grins on your faces and share the magical sight of the fireworks lighting up the night sky with no other disturbances to ruin the moment.

"You think they'd start wondering where we are?" You hum with your head rested against his chest. He kisses your hair and smiles as he tightens his hold around you, revelling deep in the moment.

"They'd get the idea, babe. They'd get the idea."

Lucy was right, Ben has always been your soulmate; the three dances you've had in your lifetime somehow always brought you back to each other. Hopefully the one you just had will be the one that will never tear you both apart ever again.

You've yet to thank Joe for tricking you into thinking that it was Gwilym he wanted to spin you off to.

How magical is that tape you used to stick the polaroids together?

It somehow pieced you and Ben in the same manner and stood the test of time.

-Fin-

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