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simpsiren · 3 years

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mark lee x reader

description. Over the years of being a close friend of Mark Lee, I realised that my platonic love for him slowly began to develop into a feeling far beyond the love of a friend; it’s just simply what happens when you love someone.

genre. FLUFF! JUST FLUFFY FLUFF! your classic best friends to lovers!au

word count. 2.8k~

warnings. nonee

a/n. hellooo! adding onto this series, i really wanted to do this song by day6 because its just so sweet and romantic cjdndndn

“It was a hard day wasn’t it?

It hurts my heart just looking at you

There’s not much I can do for you except being next to you, I’m sorry.”

I laid down on the couch in pure silence, the noise coming from the clock above me ticked ever so softly as the seconds passed that turned to minutes, that turned to hours as I waited for Mark to come home.

He offered me to stay at his place for the weekend. Well actually I invited myself over since I have always done that and he doesn’t mind. He’d always welcome me. I came here in the afternoon, his keys hidden under the welcome rug outside his apartment. I didn’t go out. I knew he was about to come home from work, but I got worried when I looked at the time on my lockscreen. “One in the morning? Where are you markie...” I couldn’t help but mumble under my breath.

Mark wasn’t one to get home late. Except for when he’s drunk. But he wouldn’t be out drinking if he wasn’t with me or his other friends. He would’ve texted me before he drank as well. it was out of the ordinary for him to not be home yet, which was why I stood up from the couch and frantically started pacing back and forth from one end of the living room to the other, thinking if I should go out and search for him.

“Fucking hell.” I gave up, refusing to stay put. I grabbed whatever belongings I could, which was only my wallet and shoved it into my sweatpants. Before I could reach my hand out for the doorknob, the door swung open, revealing Mark.

I looked at his figure. He’s extremely tired. His posture was terrible with his slouched body, his eyes looked like they were about to close at any second, his face was droopy and it felt like he could collapse if he doesn’t make a run for the bed.

“Mark! Where were you?!” I half-shouted, moving myself to the side to make way for Mark to come in. He dragged himself, feet sliding against the floor with each step. I closed the door for him. I watched as he made his way to the closest most comfortable spot, which was the couch.

He dropped himself onto it, his face planted against the pillow. He didn’t even bother moving his body to get comfortable. He just laid there. Sighing, I walked up to him, bending down on my knees and tapping his shoulder lightly. “Mark... Are you drunk?” I whispered, seeing his body moving up and down as he breathed.

Mark groaned, turning his body so that his back was against the couch. He grabbed a random pillow and hugged it tightly, his face digging into it. My heart softened at the act, but it also made it ache as I noticed just how tired he looked. I began to wonder what happened at work, or anything that happened for him to end up like this. He’s so worn out physically that it just somehow pained me to look at him.

I didn’t want to ask. I didn’t want to bother him for an explanation. Instead, I brought my hand up warily to his hair, threading my fingers through his black locks and patting his head as he slowly fell asleep. His eyes were closed, but I couldn’t tell if he was just closing his eyes or was he actually asleep. I assumed the latter.

I stared at him, when I hoped that he finally slept so that he wouldn’t think that I’m weird for watching him sleep. His figure made him look small and fragile, innocent and sweet, which he was. He was everything that’s bright and soft and loving. And that’s what I liked about him.

I decided to sleep next to him on the floor, my head resting on his arm. I felt bad. I didn’t know what to do. How to be there for him, how to help lift off some burden or the things that’s made him end up in such a state. I’d do anything to make his life lighter. Isn’t that what a best friend should do? Sadly, I could only be here for him. Just like this, next to him. Despite thinking that it wouldn’t even help, I’d still do it, since I just liked having his presence next to me.

“You’re so beautiful when you smile

So whenever I see you’ve lost your smile

I want to give it back to you

Whatever it takes.”

The next morning, I was the first to wake up. Just like last night, I stared at his sleeping figure. It calmed my heart seeing out peacefully at sleep he was. I smiled softly. Slowly but surely, I lifted a finger up, tracing his features in the air, the urge of wanting to touch his face was there, but I couldn’t. I didn’t want to wake him.

I stood up and went to make a simple breakfast. Toasted bread with butter. I made two in case Mark wakes up so I wouldn’t have to make him wait while I make another. I went back to the living room, sitting down on the floor again and turning on the tv to watch Netflix. I lowered the volume, considerate of the sleeping Mark behind me.

As I munched on the toast and watched the show will full concentration, I was immediately alerted when I felt something weighted on my left shoulder. I turned lightly, seeing Mark’s head resting. His eyes were still closed. Shocked, I couldn’t help but flinched, which sent Mark’s eyes flying open and making contact with mine. “What?” He whispered.

“Good morning to you.” I breathed out, trying not to freak out at the fact that Mark’s face was so close to him as I faced forward instantly to continue watching the show. “Sorry about last night. Coming home late I mean.” Mark said, his morning voice tone shining through. Another thing I liked about Mark. He used to call me first thing in the morning sometimes, I liked hearing his voice. But to have it this close to my ear, I really had to stop my urge of screaming and jumping out of my skin.

“You had me worried sick.” I said, my words muffled as I chewed on my food. Mark exhaled, his breathe warming up a part of my skin that sent a shock all over my body. “Last night was rough, physically and mentally.”

“Work?” I felt his head lifting off my shoulder as I heard him moving his body so that he’s sitting normally. I turned around, waiting for his answer. I noticed how his eyes got gloomy, a looked I didn’t see on him for a long time. It was only for a split second. It disappeared as quickly as it appeared. “That. And other things you don’t have to worry about.” Mark smiled softly, reaching forward to grab the other toast and taking a bite.

I finished mine, I rested my head on the palm of my hand as I leaned against the table. “Don’t lie.” I simply stated. I knew that he knew that I knew him well. I knew when he’s feeling down, when something’s out of place. He could never lie to me. He’s terrible at it. With a defeated sigh, he brought his hand with the toast down to his thigh.

“It’s just... Rose. I saw her cheating on me.” Mark muttered, looking down and fiddling with the hem on his white shirt. Now this, this thing, Mark in front of me, I felt a piece of my heart falling off. It broke me, seeing Mark without his smile, not hearing his laughter. It’s like the happy switch on him turned off and now he’s under the weather. I know he’d probably be standing in the rain pathetically if he could.

“I told you she wasn’t trustable.” I replied, not wanting to have that i-told-you-so tone to it. I didn’t like Rose. She’s always bossing Mark around, she’d force him to agree with her though I knew very well that Mark was uncomfortable. I didn’t like how Mark simply followed her, thinking it was love when really, it was abuse and manipulation.

“Thanks. I got your advice stabbed in my back now.” Mark ran a hand through his messy hair, strands falling back down to his face, some covering his eyes.

On instinct, I brought a hand up to sweep away the strands off his eyes, making him look up at him. I held his face in my hand, feeling his cold skin against my warmth. “Let’s go out. We can forget about her. We can go wherever you want. How’s that sound?” I put on a smile, one that I hope will cheer him up somehow. He responded, a light chuckle escaping his lips.

“You’re seriously the only one that can make my day.”

Thank you, but why wouldn’t you consider me any more than a friend? Is what I would reply, but I kept silent. Like I said and promised, I’d so anything for Mark Lee, whether he sees it as a gesture of a friend, or perhaps a potential lover. I don’t care what he thinks of me. I just want him to be happy, even if it meant sacrificing my unsaid feelings for him.

“I want to be hurt rather than letting you be hurt

I don’t want you to get hurt ever again.”

We came back home from running around the whole city. Going to parks, shopping malls for window shopping, did a photoshoot, and ended the way on the beach, walking at the shoreline as the sun sets. We got home at night, Mark stretched his arm over his head. “Today was so fun!” He shouted as he placed the take out that we got from the beach onto the kitchen counter. His giggles echoed as he made his way to the living room, which of course made me smile to myself like a dummy.

I chuckled, the day being recalled in my mind like scenes from a movie tape. It felt like any other day to be honest. But I guess it felt more special and serene since we didn’t experience such a day in a long time due to our separate lives interfering with our time together.

“I’m glad that you’re back to normal.” I said, unpacking the take out and throwing the plastic bags. I brought it to the living room where Mark sat down. I took the space next to him, not bothering to leave a gap between us.

Mark leaned forward to grab the coke can, opening it to take a sip and exhaling after. “I wouldn’t say she’s completely off my mind. But your plan definitely made me feel a whole lot better.” Mark suddenly laid his head on my shoulder, his soft hair brushing my skin. I shivered at the touch.

“All I can say is don’t let yourself fall in love with someone like her again. I don’t want you to end up like last night. I would take your spot if I could, so you wouldn’t suffer. But don’t be stupid.” I gave a firm advice. Like a child heeding his mother’s words, he nodded agreeably. “Got it, maam.”

“But who will ever treat me like you?”

“What do you mean?”

“They say I should find someone like my best friend. But no one does it like you do.”

I didn’t give a reply. His sentence resonated in my head. No one does it like me, Mark claimed. So why wouldn’t he even look at me as a woman?

“Loving someone

More than I can take

It’s so strange

When you love someone.”

Mark and I ended up falling asleep on the couch. I jolted awake suddenly. I searched for my phone which was hidden under a pillow, looking at the time and realising it was two in the morning. I looked over to Mark, who again was peacefully sleeping on my shoulder. All I could see was his fluffy hair. I sighed quietly as I examined him.

The more I look at him, the more I fell in love. I didn’t even have to see his face for the memories of us to come crashing at me like big waves against my heart. Though I never want to admit, and though I never thought that I even could feel this way, I whispered softly. “I think I’m in love with you, Mark Lee.”

“I want to be helpful even just a little bit

I want to be your resting place

If you think of me on a busy day

I’ll do my best to comfort you.”

The next morning, I woke up. Mark was gone. And I knew he went for work since I don’t work of Mondays like he does. I went along with my day, Mark’s laptop on my lap as I looked through my work emails and got some work done for the day.

Late afternoon, I got bored. Absentmindedly, my feet took me to Mark’s room. The first thing that caught my eye was his guitar. It leaned against the bed. I didn’t know why, but I had the sudden urge to take it to the living room. I walked up and grabbed it, forgetting the weight of it from not holding it for a long time now (though it wasn’t even that heavy).

I sat back down on the living room couch. I propped the guitar on my lap, one hand placed on the top part of the guitar while my other hovered over the strings. I forgot how to play to the guitar. Mark used to teach me. It was one of the few ways I got Mark to sit so close to me and to just have that bit his touch that I absolutely adored.

I pulled on one string, the sound ringing through my ears. I strummed on the guitar, not exactly caring about playing an actual song. My mind took me back to when Mark taught me how to play. It’s like I could feel his fingers on mine as he would scold, laugh and giggle with everything I do to the guitar. He would play me songs, he even sang. I could fall asleep every time I heard him play. His grey hoodie, thin glasses, messy black hair. The transparency of him; a feature I’ll always indulge myself with.

It was now seven. And at around seven thirty, the door opened. Mark walked in with his black suit and tie, his hair pushed back with hair gel though now it looked slightly messy. “How was work?” I asked, adverting my focus from the guitar and to him.

Mark plopped onto the couch next to me. “Brain deteriorating. Mentally and physically draining. Why did I even get this job?” Mark groaned and complained, running a hand down his face. I chuckled and punched his arm lightly. “You told me it’s because of the money.”

“Yeah well I’m starting to regret that I used to think money is everything.”

Mark snaked his around me, pulling me into his embrace. I was completely shocked and confused as to why he’s suddenly being so clingy. I liked it yes, but I never thought he’d grow attached to me in this manner. It made my heart race and my face heating up.

“Why are you-”

“Just... Let me hug you for awhile, please. You just make me feel at peace that’s all.” Mark whispered, digging his head into the crook of my neck as the two of us just sat there in silence, admiring each other’s presence.

“Mind playing something?” Mark asked. I chuckled lightly, giving a gentle smile. “I play like shit.”

“It’s fine.”

Comfortable silence filled the room for a moment. I wasn’t sure how to feel. I could already feel my cheeks burning and probably blushing a light pink. I gulped.

“Since when were you like this?” I questioned curiously. Mark looked up at me, his face looking as cute and indulging as ever. “Since I liked you?” He replied in a cheeky manner. My eyes widened. “Wait what-”

“Shush. I wanna sleep.” Mark pulled me closer to him. I looked down and saw that he’s closing his eyes with a light smile on his face. I couldn’t believe it. Mark likes me after all this time...? “Play me something to sleep.”

“Why?”

“I like you, _____.”

I didn’t reply, wanting that to be the last thing I heard from Mark before he changed his mind. Slowly, I strummed on the guitar, trying my hardest to make it sound decent. Mark giggled softly and gave up, his hands traced from my arms and to my hands, his head still on my shoulder with his eyes closed. He guided my fingers with each strum ever so carefully.

“I like you.”

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dolliedarlin · 4 years

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a love like rodger and jessica ⏤denki k.

s u m m a r y : You and Denki have a love like Rodger and Jessica Rabbit

l e n g t h : 2k

g e n r e : fluff ; praises ; body worship ; supportive kaminari ; best boi kaminari ; precious baby

w a r n i n g s : mentions of lovemaking

p a i r i n g s : denki k x f.reader

a / n : this is a quick little headcanon I came up with at three am and needed to get out as soon as possible before I lose the will to write it. I hope you all enjoy the read! Feel free to comment and like - tell me what you think, constructive criticism is always welcome.

❥ You're a self-made millionaire, CEO of a successful skincare and beauty company, investor and supermodel. The level of success you've been able to accumulate over the years is nothing to sneeze at, especially with your young age of 21.

❥ However, you draw more eyes for your beauty and body rather than your accomplishments. It's rather annoying but you've grown used to it.

❥ It isn't a lie that you're as stunning as they come. And with a body that elicits lust and unspeakable fantasies in the men and women around you, it can be said that your beauty has more power than what any of your achievements could ever provide you with.

❥ It's disappointing how you've worked so hard but still seem to achieve so little despite the empire you've built from the ground up.

❥ You've turned many young and handsome, accomplished men down, no longer your naive self. Even with their own triumphs and wealth, you can see their true intentions when looking into their greedy eyes.

❥ They only want you for your body and only regard you with contempt - there was no love, there was no honesty, they never did anything to make you feel comfortable or smile.

❥ That was all you wanted.

❥ But, perhaps, it's too childish to think about such things now.

❥ You had given up all hope and with that loss of hope came a hardened shell that nobody could break. Deep inside your heart, you still wished for a fairy tale romance and a happy life where you could smile freely and be comfortable, which is why your piercing glare, harsh demeanor and cold speech manifested in defense of those desires.

❥ It was a normal day at work; you had several meetings to attend concerning collaborations with other brands in the morning before you needed to head off to attend a photoshoot for a magazine concerning skincare.

❥ You had just been on your way to said photoshoot, in fact, when a villain attack hastily painted an image of red and blue lights, panic, destruction, and screaming people before you.

❥ Upon realizing that you were in the line of attack, you rushed to exit your car. You have been a victim of your own clumsiness many times in the past despite their rare occurrence, but ill-luck had you tripping over in your attempt to flee, causing a stinging pain to shoot up your right leg.

❥ With your back turned and crumbled to the floor in pain, you became an easy target and didn't register the careless attack directed towards you until you heard a shout of warning.

❥ "Woah! Watch it, lady!"

❥ Behind you was the Stun Gun Hero himself: Chargebolt! You had never interacted with heroes but you greatly admired their work, heroism, and sense of justice. Keeping the peace and putting villains in jail brought on a sense of security that you never took for granted. However, you had never been more grateful for their presence than that moment.

❥ "Hurry and run away!" at his command, you attempted to stand and run off but instead was painfully reminded that during your fall, you had managed to sprain your ankle.

❥ What terrible luck.

❥ "I-I can't-" you almost sob, hating how powerless you were feeling in that moment, "I think I sprained my ankle,"

❥ You heard him mutter a curse before shouting at the other heroes on-site to cover him whereby he then took the chance to rush in carrying you in his arms and run to safety.

❥ "P-please be careful," you plea, worried about his welfare as you wrap your arms around his neck for security.

❥ "Don't worry about it!" he flashes you a toothy grin, "Just hold on tight and I'll get you somewhere safe! You can count on me!" for once in your life, even though you were still in a dangerous setting, you felt comfortable and safe.

❥ In this stranger's arms, you felt protected - it was a wonderful feeling. It made you lean even closer into him, catching a whiff of his husky scent combined with his sweat. What a pleasant aroma.

❥ Maybe you should make a perfume inspired by it and have him model in the commercial?

❥ This wasn't like you, you're embarrassed to admit. Even though you're in danger, you would still do anything to keep him close to you or see him again. You weren't some lovestruck school girl, you needed to get a hold of yourself!

❥ Finally at a safe place, he set you down as he panted heavily, "Damn, I need to get better at cardio," huffing out a breath, he checked you over, "you alright?"

❥ "Other than the ankle, I'm good," you smiled up at him, trying to convey your gratefulness.

❥ "Great! The ambulance will be here soon for any casualties so-..." he pauses. In the heat of the moment, his priority had been your safety and so he hadn't really taken the time to look at you, really look at you, and see how beautiful you were. Now that he had caught his breath, and began to process that he had carried a beauty in his arms, who was now smiling up at him, a dangerous heat crawled up his neck and blew steam out of his ears.

❥ "A-are you okay?!" had he been hit by something while he was carrying you off?

❥ "So beautiful..." he muttered, continuing to stare at you, your face, your body, even straining his ears to better hear your sultry voice.

❥ "What was that?" with a tilt of your head, Kaminari had to turn his gaze away so as not to get even more flustered and possibly die from too much blood rushing to his head. Beautiful and cute - a dangerous combination to have in a woman. He could fall to his knees and submit to you right then and there, shamelessly. It took everything in him to hold back.

❥ "Y-you're just really beautiful, sorry."

❥ For once in your life, someone was being honest with you. Yes, many people have called you beautiful but their reactions were never as raw or red as the hero standing before you. It was amusing and made you want to keep him close.

❥ "Thank you..." you had to say, he was pretty easy on the eyes as well, "you are also very handsome,"

❥ "Why thank you, pretty lady~" he sent you a playful wink which made you giggle, only spurring the male to continue his flirtatious act. It might have been out of habit or maybe it was a defense mechanism since he's never come across someone so beautiful before, either way, he was already dropping another cheesy pick up like before he realized what he was doing, "but, you know, you're very pretty and I'm cute..."

❥ "Hmm?~" you raised a brow, where was he going with this?

❥ "Together, we'd be pretty cute,"

❥ You didn't mean to offend him but you laughed and laughed and laughed, not realizing how his once grinning face had turned downcast and flourished red with embarrassment.

❥ "You have a point there," you giggled, catching the male off guard and almost making him self-combust, "whatever shall I do?~" you ponder aloud, looking at him with a twinkle in your eye.

❥ "Well...it just so happens that I'm writing a phone book," time to shoot his shot, "can I have your number?

❥ "Of course, you can~"

❥ Meeting Denki was a blessing in your life.

❥ He's a goofball with a heart of gold that was always getting overlooked by women, as he's told you on one of your many dates together.

❥ "It's their loss," you hum as you cuddle up into his side, his arm laying across your shoulders, "because you're mine now~"

❥ Truly, he was your ideal man.

❥ He never took you for granted, he was always honest, he praised you and worshipped you like a goddess and he made you feel loved and comfortable being yourself, which is what mattered above all else.

❥ In return, you were his ideal woman.

❥ You freely loved him for who he was, when people told you you deserved better than him, you shut them down quicker than a lightning strike, you actually liked his cheesy pickup lines and flirted right back. The achievements he's been able to get as a hero, you still praised no matter how small, as if he was the number one hero himself - you would even go so far as to say that he's your number one in everything. And, for a bonus, you were the beauty amoungst all beauties!

❥ All those rejections, all the insecurities he had to go through by being rejected by multiple women was all worth it because now he had you in his life.

❥ "Where have you been all my life, Denki? How did I ever live without you?" you sighed into the crook of his neck, straddling his lap as he hugged your waist and gave you a kiss on the temple.

❥ "Babe, that's my line," he chuckled.

❥ At first, he was always so flustered around you but over time, he's grown a reasonable amount of immunity. That didn't mean he stopped praising you for your achievements or worshipping your body whenever you were in bed together, however. He still did all those things.

❥ If others praise you, he didn't stop them because he knows you deserve all the praise but when he found out that you didn't take their words to heart like you did his and explained why, he made sure to be off patrol that night and kept you with him between the sheets until sunrise. For hours, he worshipped your body like a temple made of gold. Between kisses and gasping breaths, he applauded you for your achievements and assured you of all flaws you saw in yourself.

❥ That night you realised the true meaning of 'making love'.

❥ In hero awarding events, you'd accompany him dressed elegantly, with your hair and makeup done and smelling as intoxicating as you looked.

❥ "DEnKi How DArE YOuUuu!" his close friend, Mineta (you think it was), sobbed at the sight of you and him together on the red carpet as a couple. Even though they were friends, Kaminari instantly stood in front of you so as to shield you away from Mineta's perverted gaze.

❥ "Thank you, Darling~" you cooed, giving your blonde hero a kiss on the back of the neck before nuzzling in between his shoulder blades.

❥ On the outside, Denki allowed himself to grin and pull you into his arms with a cool air about him, seemingly unaffected by your actions but you knew him better than that. It was only because cameras were around and he needed to keep up his image. Inside, he was melting into a puddle of goo and you know it. He, very well, could've brushed you aside to appear better like all the other men you unfortunately dated before but, instead, he makes you feel special and loved.

❥ "I know I'm the luckiest guy in the world but please be more respectful Mineta," his arms tighten around you securely, shielding your curves from prying eyes. Appreciating the gesture, you turn his face to capture him in a kiss. It's a kiss that still makes his knees weak even after months of dating.

❥ "Let's go to our seats, dear," you lead the blonde away by the tie, knowing how your kisses can sometimes leave him releasing small bolts of electricity from his palms and fingertips. It was cute how a simple kiss could turn him as dumb as he was when he overused his quirk would, only in a slightly different way.

❥ Vice versa, whenever you had a big company party or event, Denki always made it so that he could attend the event with you. He wanted to be there to protect you and shut the men down who tried to approach you with ill intentions.

❥ With your human Pikachu around, you came to love going to events. It was a time where you could dress up just for him and eventually get undressed by him the moment you arrived home.

❥ Endless praises, endless love, endless comfort, endless laughter. That was what it felt like to be with Denki.

❥ He was your Rodger and you were his Jessica

bnha mlist .

#bnha kaminari #kaminari x reader #denki kaminari imagine #kaminari headcanons #denki x reader #bnha denki #denki fluff #kaminari fluff #bnha imagine #bnha x reader #bnha headcanons

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illfoandillfie · 4 years

Text

DMs

Pairing: Ben Hardy x F!Reader

Summery: You run a nsfw snapchat account. Ben's horny.

Warnings: SMUT (18+), partially written as chat text, video chat sex, masturbation, fingering, sex toys, nipple play, voyeurism I guess, fuckboy ben

Words: 3774

A/N: Inspired by something El posted. I love Ben but he’s got them fuckboy/lad vibes and im positive he’d get down on some sc porn

Taglist: @laedymoon @dtfrogertaylor @ezmina98 @vee-ndetta @atomic-watermelon @kellypenac @labessieisallama @deakyclicks @jennyggggrrr @drowseoftaylor @hannafuckingsucks @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming @queenmylovely

@veriloquently

Your phone buzzed, the familiar noise distracting you from your book. Considering you’d just posted a new photo, partially hidden by emojis, to Instagram and updated your snapchat story with the uncensored version, it was hardly surprising you were getting messages.

YourNewDaddy: Mmm baby let me pound you

You clicked through to his profile. Absolutely nothing. The profile picture was some abs that could belong to anyone. No recent snaps, nothing. For a few seconds you considered replying with your payment details but decided against it. He wasn’t worth your time.

The whole NSFW account thing had started a while ago on Tumblr and then Instagram. A way to kill time and get some attention that you weren’t receiving in the real world. But then the porn ban had happened which severely limited what you could post, so you’d mostly moved to Snapchat, using everything else to advertise. A few months after the move you started getting guys offering to pay you to do specific things. One had wanted an audio recording of you calling him Daddy and begging for his cock with a few moans thrown in. Another had wanted a video of you and a dildo, though he’d had to pay more. Since then you’d used your accounts to pick up a bit of extra cash here and there. Nowhere near enough to live off of, but it came in handy.

You clicked back out of the app, put down your phone and went back to your book, hoping someone entertaining would at least comment on the photo soon. Barely half a page later another ding pulled you away. This time Instagram.

Benhardy: Just came over you

Quick and to the point. Fuckboy energy. You clicked onto his profile half expecting another faceless timewaster. No description or links to other sites but he had a profile picture. And some fifty odd photos. Not many posts considering his million followers but at least you knew he was a real person. You scrolled through his feed trying to put gather what info you could before you responded. Lots of photos of himself sometimes with friends. A few that were clearly modelling jobs or, more likely considering the movie trailers and saved story called Oscars 2019, promotional photoshoots for magazines. And he was a proud dog dad. Definitely attractive. You wondered briefly why someone so handsome was getting off to half dressed girls on Instagram but put it out of your mind as you opened his conversation up again. Who cared why as long as he was talking to you? After all, he was hot and willingly giving you attention. Plus, if he was an actor or whatever he probably wouldn’t mind paying for something special, once you’d given him a taste. The only question left was how to approach the conversation.

You: Really? That’s so flattering!

You: Kind of wish you’d cum over me for real tho, bit bored

Benhardy: dirty girl

Benhardy: could probably think of some way to keep you busy

Benhardy: you’re fit

You: haha aww thank you! I post more often on snap if you wanna follow. don’t have to hide behind swimwear and emojis there. easier to chat too, unless you prefer kik or something

He didn’t reply. You frowned at your phone wondering if you’d shown your hand too soon. Perhaps you should have kept up the flattered damsel act a little longer, waited before mentioning Snapchat. Maybe he wasn’t looking for a chat, just genuinely wanted to compliment you, even if it was in a gross slightly derogatory way. Or maybe he just got cold feet. You sighed as you swiped back to check what other people had been sending you. A few more ignorable accounts, a couple messages you didn’t like enough to respond to straight away. And then another Snapchat notification.

Ben Jones: had to create an account but I’m here

You: oh! you’ve changed your name

Ben Jones: Hardy’s the stage name lol

You: hmmm hardy… little bit of a pornstar name

You: or could be if you changed the ben part.

Ben Jones: that’s my backup plan in case actual acting doesn’t work out lol

Ben Jones: not too out of place right now tho

You: haha that because of me?

Ben Jones: maybe. loved the photos in your story you’ve got great tits

Ben Jones: kinda wanna see you pinch and pull on them

And so it began. You leaned forward to pull your shirt off and then settled back against the pillows, running your fingers around your nipple until it was hard. Angling the camera towards your chest you pinched your nipple between your thumb and forefinger, rolling it between them. The camera clicked as you took a photo and then clicked again as you tugged your nipple away from your body, hissing a little at the pain.

You: Like this?

Ben Jones: perfect

Ben Jones: really are lovely tits.

You: surprisingly don’t hear that much irl so ty

Ben Jones: u don’t? criminal

You: lmao yeah but that’s what I have you for

Ben Jones: happy to help

Ben Jones: What are you wearing?

You: Just a pair of knickers now

Ben Jones: sexy

Ben Jones: can I see?

You: just the knickers or the whole look?

Ben Jones: whole look first

Ben Jones: then just the knickers so I can see the wet spot you’re making

You wriggled against the pillows, shuffling further down the bed. Long ago you’d learnt which angles were the easiest to take photos in and which were the best to show off your body. A full body shot was easiest when you leaned your phone up against a stack of books or something at the foot of the bed and used the timer on the camera to get a few shots of you kneeling. It left your hands fee to squeeze your tits if that seemed appropriate or slip into your underwear, or to put behind your back in a pose that seemed innocent but actually pushed your hips and chest forward. For Ben though you felt something that appeared a little more casual would be appropriate. You lay back, head raised slightly on your pillows, feel flat against the mattress so your knees were in the air and pressed together. Carefully you positioned the camera, wrist twisted a little to get the angle just right. You brought your free hand up to your breasts, pulling your nipple again since Ben seemed to like it, and snapped a photo. The shot of your underwear was easier, legs spread, pushing your hips up slightly to get a clear shot of the wet patch that had been slowly growing since the start of the conversation, though a little added saliva to make it more obvious didn’t hurt. He wouldn’t be able to tell.

Ben Jones: hot

Ben Jones: like got me so hard again hot

You: does that mean I get a picture in return?

Ben Jones: Only if you take your knickers off for me

Ben Jones: wouldn’t be fair otherwise since im not wearing underwear😉

You took your time sending him a new photo and got one back almost straight away. You would have scoffed at his eagerness to show himself off but, with a body like his you couldn’t really blame him. You zoomed into the photo, trailing your eyes over every inch of it. Messy blonde hair, though whether it was intentionally messy or just like that from him grabbing it while he jerked off over your photo you weren’t sure. Gorgeous eyes, heavy lidded and a little fucked out. One arm behind his head as he lay on his bed. It looked carefree and spontaneous, like someone else had taken the photo at the very moment he looked at the camera, but it showed off the muscles in his arms too well to be coincidence. And speaking of muscles. The boy was a fucking Adonis. You were instantly struck by the desire to drag your nails down his chest and leave a trail of hickeys and bite marks all the way down to his toned stomach and tight waist. You clenched your thighs together at the thought as you slowly revealed the bottom half of the photo. He had his legs outstretched though one was more bent than the other, knee jutting out to the side. Almost too casual to be casual, especially with the way he had his hand wrapped around his cock, like the photo was taken mid stroke. You couldn’t help linger over that particular part of the photo. It was a lovely hand, big with noticeable veins, exactly the sort that could make you weak in the knees. And the same could be said for the dick it was holding. You wondered briefly where this Ben guy had come from and what you could possibly have done to catch his attention.

Ben Jones: is that silence because you’re so impressed

The message made you roll your eyes. Hot he might be, but he was still just another desperate fuckboy looking for a naked girl to drool over and a quick orgasm.

You: well I’m not not impressed

Ben Jones: no need to be shy. just say you’re imagining riding me and I'd understand

You: wasn’t before. Am now.

Ben Jones: what were you picturing before?

You: doggy

Ben Jones: be happy to let you try both and compare.

You: let me film it and watch the tapes back to study your game?

Ben Jones: wait this is dumb.

Your frowned at your phone. For such typical guy, the sort you’d dealt with so many times before, Ben sure was hard to pin down.

You: what?

Ben Jones: you comfortable doing live chat?

Ohhhh

You: umm sure thing

Ben Jones: you don’t have to

You: i know that. you couldn’t force me to even if you wanted, beauty of doing this online. i just don’t do live very often. or I charge for it.

Ben Jones: that desperate for me?

You: you caught me in a good mood

You let the call ring for a bit, wanting to make sure Ben understood how in control you were and how much more he needed it than you. But eventually you picked up, settling back against your pillows. Ben seemed to be in a similar position, leaning against his headboard, the screen showing you his face and bare shoulders. “Hi,” “Hi,” his voice was deeper than you’d expected, thrown by how soft and, dare you say, feminine his features were, and yet it suited him perfectly. You could only imagine how that voice would sound growling out sexually charged complements, the thought appealing enough to have you pressing your thighs together. There was a moment of silence as you took each other in, not quite sure how to continue now that you’d switched from text. “So you going to show me how wet you are?” Once again his demeanour had you wanting to roll your eyes though you refrained, “No.” “No?” His confusion was entertaining to say the least. So many of the men who contacted you assumed you were going to be outright submissive and meek, taking whatever photos they demanded and doing everything they told you to with a smile and a yes sir. So proving them wrong, defying them, taking control, that was fun. Almost an aphrodisiac in its own right. Sometimes you’d eventually submit, play the brat and then let them win, and if they were paying it was a different story. But Ben struck you as the kind of guy who could use a little more pushback. Probably used to getting his way, having his pick of the litter. Lord knows had he hit on you in real life you probably would have agreed to whatever he wanted just to feel his hands on you. But here, on your profile, you had the power. Plus, in the back of your mind you suspected that being a little more assertive might just make him more interested in seeing you submit and maybe a little more willing to pay for the pleasure. “Not yet.” “Bit of a bold move considering I could just go find someone else to look at. There’re these things called porn sites, yeah?” “But they’re so impersonal. Isn’t this more fun?” He paused, eyeing you, and then let out a breath, “You got me there.” “Figured, since the video chat was your idea and all.” “Just got sick of typing one handed.” “Mmhmm, sure.” “So are you going to show me your cunt then?” “Eventually. But what’s the rush?” you stood up, making sure to let the camera dip just a little so Ben got a quick flash of your chest. “How about I’m hard as hell and want to get off?” “You’re not the only one who wants to get off so just hold your horses for a second while I get my toys.” “There are toys now?” You could see Ben’s shoulder move as he started to stroke himself again. “Told you to hold your horses. Stop touching yourself.” Ben’s arm stopped its movement though he seemed a little taken aback by his own obedience. “Good boy,” you watched for Ben’s reaction, not disappointed as he swallowed hard, his cheeks going pinker than they already were. That was interesting. “Yes there are toys, you wanna see?” “Do I get to pick which ones you use?” “Maybe,” “Go on, show me then,” You flipped the camera around as you opened your chest of draws. There wasn’t much in there, a couple different dildos and vibrators, a set of nipple suckers, mostly things you’d bought to fulfil requests guys were paying you for. You picked up the nipple suckers and held them up to the camera. “I assume you’d like to see me in these since you liked watching me play with my nipples.” “Mmhmm, absolutely. Also want to see you with a dildo. You got one with a suction base? Might tell you to ride it the way you’d ride me,” he seemed to be doubling down on the pull for control after you’d seen his reaction to being told what to do, determined to put you in your place or whatever. “Unfortunately, no. But this one will do,” you took hold of a silicon dildo, pulling it from the draw, “Don’t think it's as big as you but it does vibrate and that’s guaranteed to work.” “I’ll allow it, though I think we both know I’d be better.” “I’m going to ignore that,” you said as you turned the camera back towards you and headed back to your bed, settling against the pillows again. You propped the camera up against a pillow so Ben could watch as you placed the suckers over your nipples, whimpering at the sudden taught feeling. You picked the phone back up, giving Ben a closer view of your boobs. “They suit you. And you can ignore it all you like but when you start doing what I say and I let you fuck yourself into your third orgasm I’ll remind you. Maybe, if you’re lucky, I’ll tell you where you can meet me in real life and show you exactly how good I am.” “You’re a cocky one, aren’t you?” “In every sense. If I remember correctly you were speechless at the sight.” “You’ve got a bad memory, Benny boy.” Slowly you let your fingers trail down to your pussy. You didn’t believe he was as good as he thought he was – you’d dealt with too many overconfident wankers, both in real life and online, to believe another one – but the game you’d fallen into, the back and forth teasing, not entirely sure who was in control at any one time, was arousing to say the least. It was certainly one of the less predictable conversations you’d had recently. “If not speechless then certainly wet. Show me your pussy, wanna see you touching yourself.”” “Who said I’m touching myself?” you slipped a finger into your entrance, trying to keep your breathing even.” “You’re not as good at hiding it as you think you are. So show me.” “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” Ben gave you a fleeting look, eyebrow raised, before his camera flipped and you were once again looking at his hand wrapped around his cock, red and leaking precum. You turned your camera too, making sure he had a good view. “Add a second finger for me.” You did as he asked, “You been a good boy and not touched? Or do I have to tell you off for misbehaving?” “I didn’t but it wasn’t because of anything you said. Just didn’t want things to finish before I heard you beg me to cum.” He began to stroke himself, keeping in time with the slow pace you’d set as you pumped your fingers in and out of your pussy. “Sure,” you panted, adding a third finger, “so if I told you to stop now,” His hand halted. “Well aren’t you just so obedient,” You removed your fingers from yourself, reaching to grab the dildo, “you wanna see me fuck myself properly? Watch me cum all over this toy, pretend it’s your cock making me moan?” “God yes,” his voice cracked a little, fingers twitching against himself as he briefly let the cocky, controlling persona fall away. It didn’t last long, “Show me how deep you can take that cock. C’mon, I know what a fucking slut you are, getting off on people watching you.” You didn’t bother arguing, sliding the dildo along your dripping folds before pressing it into yourself with a whine. “Wait, hang on a sec.” The was the sound of shuffling and the screen went black as Ben moved around but, eventually, he flipped the camera again and settled back on the bed. He’d propped his phone up somewhere in front of himself, letting you see every inch of him from his face to his hard, leaking cock, “better?” “Oh much, hang on I’ll do the same," you carefully pulled the dildo from yourself and sat up, leaning your phone against a stack of books on your bedside table and then adjusting your pillows in front of it, “we good?” “Yeah, take the nipple things off though, wanna see your tits properly.” You did as he asked, letting out a soft moan at the sensation. Ben chuckled, “God I can’t wait to hear how loud you moan imaging how hard I’d fuck you.” You slid the dildo back into your entrance, slowly pumping it in and out of yourself as you brought your other hand up to squeeze your breast, “mmm, you look so pretty when you’re all needy Benny.” It wasn’t a lie, between his lust blown eyes, flushed cheeks and soft pout, Ben looked incredible and it only turned you on more, “Want to show me how needy you can get? Want me make you beg?” “Faster. Harder,” he ignored your questions in favour of giving you another order but you were sure you’d heard his voice crack just a little. You sped up, whining with each thrust, Ben’s hand matching your pace as his slid his thumb over the tip and spread the precum over his length. “Fuck your wet, I can hear it. That all because of me?” “Maybe a-a bit. Also just like, fuck, being watched,” “Turn on the vibrator and rub your clit,” Ben’s voice was husky, impossibly deep and rough, “don’t stop until I say.” You moaned as the vibrations started, angling the dildo to rub against your g-spot on every pass. “There you go, being a good little slut. Gonna cum how I tell you to.” “On-only if you cum how I tell you to.” You almost let the dildo fall from your grasp, so shocked were you by the whine Ben let out, “Like that idea? Want me to tell you what to do? If I told you to stop and watch me would you?” “No,” he said, steadfastly sticking to the game although his hand faltered and his voice had mostly lost the controlling edge he’d had before, all desperate, whiny need. “N-not sure I beli-eve you.” “Please don’t stop. Wanna cum so bad,” “I know y-ou do Benny.” “You close?” “Yes, fuck Ben, so close.” “Cum for me, come on, be a good slut and cum,” “Not. Yet. Play with your balls Benny, wanna see you cum first.” His gasped turned into a strangled cry as he ran his fingers over his testicles before lightly squeezing them “T-turn the vibrator higher,” Neither one of you were in control anymore, too caught up in getting yourselves and each other off, though you were both determinedly looking at the screen, watching each other. Ben’s lip was caught between his teeth, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he let out some of the prettiest moans you’d ever heard. It only served to push you closer to the edge, your own moans escaping as you bucked your hips rhythmically in time with the dildo moving in and out of your cunt. Ben finished a split second before you did, your eyes glued to the white now painting his stomach as you held the dildo in place, its vibrations making your toes curl.

The was a moment of quiet as you both collected yourselves, the only sounds his panted breaths and your soft whine as you removed the dildo from yourself, and then Ben spoke. “Fuck that was hot.” “Yup,” “I thought your tits were good enough to wank over but Christ. That’s gonna keep me going for a bit.” You laughed, relaxing as your heart gradually fell back to its normal rhythm, “Well not too long I hope. You’re fun and I’d be happy to chat again sometime.” “Did I see in your bio that you take commissions?” “Yuuup,” “Huh, well, I’ll keep that in mind then.” “I look forward to it,” “Well, I should be off then, gotta clean up,” he gestured to the mess drying on his stomach. “Yeah, me too, maybe have a nap. That really was fun though so next time you’re bored or whatever hit me up. If you’re lucky I’ll let you boss me around. If you’re luckier I’ll do the bossing,” “I’d like to see you try,” “That whine you made says you’d enjoy it quite a lot,” “My whine? What about yours? Needy little brat.” Guess you’ll have to come back and settle this then.” “Guess I will. See you later.”

#my writing #ben hardy smut #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy imagine #hope ya'll like this #hope i made him enough of a fuckboy #and that it makes sense and everything #i wrote the first half real quick like last month #and then took a break from it to write curtains 5 #and then found it kinda hard to get back into it #but i think im happy with it #anyway #gonna be more benny content coming soon #im so very deep in my feels because of all this 6u content

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flowesona · 4 years

Text

Temperance - Yandere! Seokjin x reader

The Tarot Series

Warning: Mentions of Suicide/ Self Harm, Blackmailing

“I love you more than anything in the world. You know that, right?”

“You told me that less than an hour ago. I couldn’t possibly forget.” (Y/N) beamed as Jin passed his fountain pen to her, letting her finally sign her name next to his.

She’d dreamed of the perfect wedding for years, with many Pinterest boards on dress options, decor and catering. A simple registry and a plain black dress weren’t a part of her dreams, but they were now her reality. After all, with Jin’s occupation putting him in the spotlight at all time, it was the best they could do to avoid being detected.

“Well, now I can tell you how much I love you every day for the rest of our lives.” He said, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “Until death do us part.”

Her heart thumped as he spoke. It was like a dream come true to marry the idol of her dreams, the caring, sweet man whom she’d spent so many years pining after.

“Let's get out of here. We’ve got so much ahead of us, I can’t wait!” Jin pulled her out of the registry straight into the waiting car once all was said and done, the driver doing his very best to keep his eyes on the road as the couple got closer than would be appropriate under the protection of heavily tinted windows.

*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*

The dream of waking up next to her dreamy idol husband didn’t quite become a reality for (Y/N). Often, she was woken up by him giving her a kiss before rushing out the door. Then, he was at interviews, photoshoots, dance rehearsals until the early evening. Finally, usually around 8 PM finally his wife got to see him properly, awaiting him with a freshly made dinner that stuck rigidly to his diet plan, no matter how much she hated it.

He would mumble a few words of thanks but otherwise the meal would be silent until Jin had finished eating and would retire to their room, (Y/N) trailing behind him once she’d cleaned the dishes. He’d often be fast asleep by the time she was ready for bed, not even stirring as she crawled in beside him and held him close, the heat of his body being the only comfort he was able to give her.

The routine was set in stone, virtually nothing changing. (Y/N) didn’t hate it, but she wasn’t happy. It pained her to see the spark in their romance die, to see such Jin become so distant and apathetic as if he didn’t love her like he’d sworn.

But even as their relationship was on the slow decline, they weren’t ready for the huge drop that awaited in the form of a new article.

(Y/N) felt like she was about to vomit. The phone in her hands was trembling, teetering in her weak fingers as she tried to process the headline.

‘Kim Seokjin has a secret WIFE?! Fans React to the news!’

Somehow, someone working in the records office had evidently leaked the marriage certificate. Now, her name was trending on social media, accompanied with possessive threats and scornful hate upon her husband and herself. There were a few tweets congratulating the couple or trying to calm the angry cult, but it wasn’t enough.

The door burst open, Jin immediately at her side wiping her tears away.

“The lawyers are on the case, we’ll get everything removed. I’m taking a break from music and we’ll go somewhere remote so you won’t get harassed anymore. I’ve got this all under control, you don’t need to worry babe.” He soothed, alarmed as (Y/N) wasn’t comforted at all.

“This isn’t fair, Jin!” She protested. “Why am I the scapegoat whilst you don’t have to worry about a thing? Why am I the one that everyone hates?!”

“I know, I know. I wish we could do something about the fans, but they’re out of my control. We just have to wait, babe.”

“I don’t think we should be together anymore.”

Jin looked like he’d just been shot.

“B-babe, you don’t mean that. This will pass, we can still be together. Just wait for the lawyers to deal with it all-”

“This isn’t right for my happiness.” (Y/N) pressed on. “I don’t want to be the hidden away wife, deprived of all my husband’s love just because of his career. I want to live life as free as possible, and if that means leaving you then so be it.”

He gave her a pleading look, the best he could do to persuade her without getting down on his knees and begging, but she wasn’t swayed.

“I really do love you.”

*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*

The change to their relationship was very welcome for (Y/N). She lived far out from the city, away from prying paparazzi cameras. Every day she was free to do as she wished, no bodyguards, no feelings of guilt. Then, every fortnight she arranged to see Jin in the private of her new home.

But it only took three weeks for their routine to break. After all, finding a weeping Jin at her door was not how (Y/N) planned her Tuesday evening to be, as she pulled him inside after glancing around to make sure that there were no lingering witnesses.

Even in separation from him, (Y/N) was still undeniably in love with Jin. She couldn’t bear to see him out in public in such a low, pathetic state.

“Jin, what��s wrong?” She asked, wiping away a stray tear as he leant into her hold.

“I can’t do this, (Y/N).” He whimpered. “I can’t live without you. I thought it would be okay, but seeing you once a month just isn’t enough. I need you, you’re my everything.”

“I’m so sorry.” She whispered as he sobbed harder. “I wish there was something I could do.”

“I need to see you more. Twice a week at my house, at the very least. Preferably on the weekends, since I have shorter practice hours.” The waterworks stopped, even though Jin’s voice was still slightly croaky.

“People will find out. It’s better to let them forget. You care about my safety, right?”

“But what about my happiness? I can’t live like this, keeping you away like some mistress when I should be loud and proud calling you my wife.” Jin protested, eyes wide.

“But your fans hate me. I’ve had to endure the wrath and harassment of thousands of your fans. I’m sorry, it’s your career or me.”

He pulled his phone out of his pocket, fiddling with its alpaca case.

“I wrote a message to my fans.” He said, “Would you like to hear it?”

Before (Y/N) could open her mouth, he was reading it aloud.

“I’m sorry for leaving you so abruptly, but I can’t live like this. Knowing that my wife (L/N) (Y/N) does not love me truly breaks me to my core, but perhaps there may be someone in another life who can reciprocate my feelings and care for who I am, not what I have. So long, babe.”

(Y/N) was frozen to the spot.

“By the time they realise what I’ve said, I’ll be dead and gone. Do you want that, babe? Do you want my blood on your hands? Since you care so much about how my fans feel about you, how would you like to see how they react to you being the reason I kill myself?”

Every word Jin was spitting was acidic, far from the light-hearted man (Y/N) had fallen in love with.

“Are you seriously saying that if I don’t toe the line and see you once a week, you’ll kill yourself and blame me?”

Jin nodded.

“Trust me, (Y/N). I’ve tried being without you, and life just isn’t worth living. I know now that I’d rather die than have us be apart any longer. If you won’t come back to me, I’ll make your life hell.”

He reached out for her hand, pressing a kiss to it.

“Let’s go home. I’ve missed you so much, babe.”

#yandere bts #yandere seokjin #yandere jin x reader #yandere kpop #yandere x reader #yandere bts x reader #bts #yandere bts au #kpop yandere #bts jin #kim seokjin x reader #yandere kim seokjin #yandere kim seokjin x reader #jin x reader #yandere jin #the tarot series #yandere #seokjin x reader

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mcheang · 4 years

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Love and hate

A rough draft inspired by 三生三世十里桃花, and because I wanted to do another Mari hates Adrien but he likes her fic.

What if Marinette felt betrayed by Adrien’s decision to pose alongside Lila?

Ok; we all know that Lila framed Marinette. And that Adrien posed alongside Lila for the photoshoot.

But what if Marinette decided to take early action to revoke her expulsion? What if she went as Ladybug herself to clear her name? Technically it’s not just personal reasons when scarlet moth had been involved.

Granted she can’t prove Lila planted the necklace in her locker. But come on, how can she cheat when the test answers were stolen after the exam? The lockers are unlocked. And if Lila had seriously fallen down the stairs she would have more bruises than a knee injury!

In face of a righteously angry Ladybug, who points out the flaws they were too idiotic to see, the principal does what he does when face with influential threats (Chloe calling her dad), he caves.

Marinette is brought back to school with an apology. Lila is called back to school to continue investigating.

Unwilling to let such a useful pawn leave, Gabriel vouches for Lila, unaware that Ladybug had just left, and lets Nathalie disable the security feeds. Again the weak principal gives in.

Lila learns Marinette has already been brought back, but let’s Adrien think she fulfilled her end of the deal.

While Adrien had played a small, inconsequential role in defending Marinette, it did nothing to soothe Marinette to watch him pose with Lila after all he knew about that liar.

Betrayed and heartbroken, the love in Marinette’s heart starts to turn to hatred.

Welcomed back to school, Marinette asks Adrien in private why he modelled with Lila and he says it was part of his job (he doesn’t want Marinette to feel indebted). Lila butts in and insists that it is also because they are friends. Adrien agrees with Lila. Marinette believes Adrien wants to shrug things off again, and move on.

Her hurt confirmed, Marinette ignores Adrien and gives him the cold shoulder. The hatred in her heart has sprout and is growing into a sapling

Adrien can guess the reason for that. He tries to talk to Marinette alone but she wants nothing to do with him. Eventually he manages to convey that he only modelled with Lila to get her to come back to school.

Marinette retorts that he didn’t get her back to school. Ladybug did! And she doesn’t tolerate liars. He had the chance to tell the truth and he blew it.

Normally, Marinette may have been more open-minded but the hatred in her heart has had time to settle.

The more you love someone, the deeper that hatred can grow.

Since Lila didn’t hold up her end of the bargain, Adrien renounces their friendship in public. He admits he made a deal with Lila to get Marinette back but Lila spins a lie that she asked Ladybug to bring Marinette back. Adrien protests that Ladybug herself confronted them that she is not Lila’s BFF. The class doesn’t know who to believe. But since Marinette is clearly avoiding Adrien and still thinks Lila is a liar, it gives Adrien more credibility and makes them wonder if Lila was indeed a liar.

Marinette still hasn’t forgiven Adrien, believing he is only acting up since he doesn’t want to lose any Friend. Her heart is too full of hatred for her head to think clearly.

It pains Marinette to see Adrien but she eventually becomes adept at ignoring his blonde head and presence. Adrien is miserable that he has lost one of his closest friends. Even so, he snaps at the class whenever they listen to Lila’s gossip. Marinette ignores his attempts to protect her.

The rest of the class do not intercede. Marinette has a right to be angry with Lila and she shuts down anyone who asks her to be open-minded and forgive either Lila or Adrien. The class soon learns not to bother, otherwise Marinette shuts them out too.

Tikki tries her best to change Marinette’s mind but Marinette snaps at her to let it go. Tikki relents once she realizes she is only agitating Marinette and making her akuma bait.

Adrien tries waiting outside the bakery, skipping his practises and getting grounded. Marinette had told her parents not to let Adrien or Lila in. Adrien refuses to budge, standing in the heavy rain even when it is clear the bakery is closed and the streets are emptying. The Gorilla eventually tracks Adrien down and drags him home. (I figure Adrien is a romantic and is willing to resort to grand gestures of his determination to see Marinette)

Adrien is sick for weeks. Marinette is happy for his absence but has to hide it behind relief. Alya and Nino have to divide their time.

Adrien recovers and is still miserable. To make matters worse; he has another shoot with Lila. He goes on strike until Gabriel fires Lila.

Tikki heads to Plagg to discuss how to fix their broken relationship. When Adrien opens his locker, Tikki escapes, but not before he spots her fleeing to Marinette’s locker.

Adrien is both elated and horrified to know Ladybug’s secret identity is his former Friend who now hates his guts.

Knowing Marinette doesn’t want anything to do with Adrien, Chat decides to visit her at night.

Marinette initially freaks out because she thinks he knows her identity. But he claims he is just there because he is on a diet and wants to cheat on it.

Marinette tolerates this free loader.

Chat initially wants to smooth over their misunderstanding but learns that talking about Adrien leads to him getting kicked out. So he avoids talking about Adrien and instead tries to get to know Marinette better.

Marinette is annoyed by Chat’s presence, especially since it leaves her sleeping later than usual. But she grows used to it.

Eventually Chat slips up and calls her My Lady. Marinette freaks out again but grows calmer. She says she doesn’t want to know his secret identity. Chat sadly agrees.

Eventually the public thinks that there is something going on with Chat and Marinette. But they deny it. To prevent people from suspecting Ladybug’s identity, Adrien blurts out it was him. He put on his old Chat Noir costume to visit Marinette.

The class squeals at their Romeo and Juliet situation.

Marinette goes along but is furious with Adrien. How dare he play her for a fool. She yells at him from going anywhere near her again, but not before Adrien sees how badly she is hurt emotionally.

Adrien’s absence from her roof is easily explained when Gabriel heard the rumour and confiscated Adrien’s costume.

Marinette is heartbroken yet again because unbeknownst to her; she had fallen in love with Chat.

In her heartbreak, she is reminded she has a score to settle with Lila (it’s a welcome distraction). Ladybug confronts the principal again on why Lila hasn’t been properly investigated. Pressured, the principal does that and discovers Lila’s truancy and health records. He expels Lila in the same public manner he does Marinette. (Ladybug’s status so trumps the recluse designer’s)

At least Marinette has been properly avenged. But she still isn’t happy.

Adrien is depressed. He knows he hurt Marinette again and he never wanted that. That said, the class thinks Gabriel has pulled Adrien out of school, not that Adrien has fallen into depression. He can’t sleep without crying because he is haunted by the image of Marinette crying and blaming himself. Not even the threat of homeschool can snap Adrien out of it, because he knows Marinette would welcome that.

Adrien won’t eat anything until at last Nathalie does something.

She visits Marinette and confesses that she was there when Adrien threatened Lila to bring Marinette back to school.

When Marinette is skeptical, Nathalie points out all the good things Adrien has done for her (most of them as Chat). Why would he do that if he didn’t care for her?

1. He had tried to get Marinette an internship with Gabriel but she had wanted nothing to do with the Agreste brand.

2. Adrien tutored Marinette at night so her grades improved.

3. To make up for Marinette’s free treats, Adrien has burnt his pianist fingers trying to make Marinette a dessert. He never succeeded in every one of his 13 attempts before he nearly burned the kitchen down.

4. He recommended her to other famous designers. Marinette wanted to earn recognition on her own credit, not because of favors. She’s not happy he interfered.

5. He bought her all those expensive fabrics using his own money. Marinette isn’t exactly impressed since she knew Adrien had the money. But he certainly saved her shopping time.

6. He stole his mother’s jewellery to gift them to her (Marinette had told him to stop buying her expensive gifts). Yeah, Adrien was in a lot of trouble for that one but he refused to tell his Father what he had done with the jewels. He had been pulled out of school as a result until Lila brought him back and Adrien admitted he didn’t regret stealing the jewels.

(What Adrien does admittedly pales next to Ye Hua’s sacrifices. But I can’t cut off Adrien’s arm or make him use his life force or whatever. He isn’t a deity)

Anyway; Nathalie points out that Adrien has done so much for her, regardless of how unsuccessful his wooing attempts were, can’t she just visit him once. Seeing her might do him some good.

Marinette takes a moment to think. Perhaps she judged Adrien too harshly and rashly. He was clueless about friendship. And he did try (and failed) to make amends. Maybe she should give him credit for trying, if nothing else. He certainly chose to against Lila in the end.

Marinette visits Adrien and there is definitely a reaction from the apathetic boy. he apologises for hurting her so much. He should have left her alone like she wanted. Marinette also apologizes for not letting him explain his side, even if she did give him a chance to at first. She encourages him to eat.

With Marinette beside him, Adrien does recover.

Nathalie is relieved. She then advises Gabriel to let them be. Bringing Emilie back won’t be as joyful once she finds out their son had nearly died from intentional starvation.

Gabriel agrees to let his Son and Marinette date, which they do slowly, needing to start all over again. Marinette needs time to sort out her feelings. While she may have fallen in love with Chat, it also conflicts with the hatred she bore Adrien. The hatred needs to heal to become love.

Adrien gives Marinette her space and continues to try to be a partner worthy of his lady, mainly by being honest.

#miraculous ladybug fanfic #miraculous ladybug fic #ml fanfic #ml fanfiction #ml fic #miraculous ladybug fanfiction #marichat #ladybug episode fic #episode ladybug fic #lila salt #ml salt fic #lila gets exposed #lila karma #lila bashing #lila is exposed

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404fmdminjung · 3 years

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creative claims verification — gone

summary: a song about one stage of heartbreak — full on sadness. dated sometime in february 2021 warnings: none wc: 1920 (not including lyrics)

off days become more and more frequent. days turn into weeks of silence, no new news of fuse. at first, it’s like a call of freedom, liberation from the day to day monotony of standing on stage, gearing up with the lyrics already written for her and each movement dictated weeks before presentation. however, that all fades quickly — soon after, she finds herself lost in the days of monotony. nothing to do, no new friends. just the same old tricks and finds across seoul to keep her days busy when the time’s filled with individual schedules and sparse photoshoots here and there.

maybe, that’s how she landed in the mecca of tourist attractions and promoted instrument heavens. north of insadong, and she’s found her fix of caffeine in the nooks of an old-fashioned hanok cafe — a day filled with solace and silence, ignorance to the buzz of her phone inside her backpack when she hides behind a oversized hat and a mask sneaking into a small corner store in nagwon-dong.

she bows her head, says her greetings to the staff working. nobody notices her, at least — she doesn’t think they do. covert and curious, she marches straight to the lined wall of electric guitars. far from a professional, an enthusiast at best, her hands motion for staff for help when she finds herself at a standstill with one beautiful ivory piece.

“can i test it?” her eyes look at the worker, his eyes widen when recognition becomes clear.

professionalism still reigns, and she sits on a stool, one knee bent. she starts off shaky with one chord she fishes out from her memories. starts fiddling out the rest when her fingers shift from one take of muscle memory to the next.

they say money doesn’t buy happiness, but it can fill some void — fill in the gaps, provide inspiration at best.

“can i buy this one?” she asks.

when she’s home, her mind hones in on the chord progression played at a store. a near hour of a makeshift solo jam session — but there’s no jamming nor is there the head-banging thrill of loud clamor. instead, it becomes a soft lull to getting lost into a mindless melody when her heart doesn’t know where it beats anymore, and her time strung to nothing.

being at home doesn’t lessen any of the unresolved wounds, nor does it stitch together the edges of a torn heart. superficial happiness from a new bought item dissolves, so — she decides to bask in it. bask in the comfort of her home studio, where the lights dimmed low and the guitar that rests in her lap play the eulogy to what she’s wanted to avoid for so long.

it starts slow and steady, the same easy chord brought back in her mind. she strums, continues to strum. lets her fingers dig deep, the strings pressing lesions into her skin by the time the first chord becomes ingrained in her head (she makes note of that, doesn’t want to forget the first one).

and what she wants out of this track is something casual, something real. because the flashback memory of it all being gone, and happy smiles become a harrowing question of whether it was ever real at all — she doesn’t know, doesn’t want an answer. maybe, she just wants to wallow in it and swallow self-misery as if it’s a blip of a pill rendering her useless.

from the chords come the plucks of the notes, and repetition. it clings on her mind like a reckoning for asinine mind, gone and lost. senseless till she figures — she doesn’t want no frills, no thrills in a song where she wants it to be a visceral, yet tangible embodiment of walking through with a bleak expression and empty head. she wants a seamless track of a vacuum mind — empty and numb.

when she presses record, she strums up the first two chords into the pluck. leaves it at just that before she repeats again, humming incomprehensible mumbles to whatever words will fill the void soon.

but inspiration strikes once more, and she sets the guitar down, halts the recording when her hands pull out the piece of paper and the other scrambles for a pen sitting on her desk.

because in the end, the mindless nothings going inside her head all spawn from a vision, an image. a recollection of memories lost and gone, where he juxtaposes himself onto someone else — someone else that’s not her.

the first words she comes up with is how her story becomes another cliche — but cliches are there for reason as she’s been reminded time and time again. repetition as life moves in patterns of repeating circles, and what’s become the constant variable in all of this is just the pain that hits from heartbreak. pathetic, and true. she’s only been a cesspool of blue.

Another story that's sad and true I can feel the pain, can you? You had to be the one to let me down To colour me blue

pathetic at best is how she envisions herself — when her mind renders clear, it’s the words in english that come forth. a twist of tongues becomes a near mockery of her life back and forth shuttling countries — funny, how the one thing of permanency to tether her back to this life now was the one who left her in the ruins of the aftermath.

yet, when she envisions in her mind, she only thinks of herself as a fool.

the one who let him render her speechless with his sly gazes and cheeky smiles, broken promises and empty whispers only to set her up for the greatest travesty — broken love. she writes down each piece of her broken facade and shattered guard. each piece of herself she severed off when she gave to him. as much as she’d hate to admit, without him, she feels numb.

genuine laughter that breeds itself in her heart, she sows those only to reap nothing but faux leaves and frail stems. because what it feels like is getting hit over and over, run over. each piece of herself lost and stolen only to be left to fend the foreign feeling of being alone again.

hatred, it’s a strong word — but if she uses it anywhere, it’s here.

I just wanna be the one But to you we're already done Tell me, why'd you have to hit and run me? Now I'm all alone, crying ugly You broke my heart just for fun Took my love and just left me numb Now it's eight in the morning Hate in the morning (All because of you)

she thinks to each time of each day where her fingers hover over the screen of his call. one press spurred by impulse, and she reads the radio silence of a dead-beat line. no reception as she calls out to an empty void speaking the overgrown woes to a dead-end. he’ll play it like that, take his actor grin and sprawl it across the world to flash on tv with the pretty girl linked in his arms.

funny, how it looks from the outside looking in.

there’s something lost, no longer the sharp-edged tongue she prides herself in wielding together in moments alone. an individualist — yeah, the highlight of her past-time. however, that only dissipates to whatever’s left to make of the ugly sobs that cry out to nothing in the middle of the night declaration of accepting what’s already run its final course.

she’s no longer what she used to be, at least — she doesn’t see herself like that anymore.

I see you changed your number, that's why you don’t get my calls

I gave you all of me, now you don't wanna be involved

her eyes rove over what she’s written, a pathetic remedy for a poorer cause. how many love songs she’s written about some skeleton in her back closet — but that skeleton isn’t one she can bury past six feet. because by fate of her own hands, she pulls it out each time. stares at it head-on only to drown back at the replay of memories that flood her whole.

nobody teaches you how to survive heartbreak, not when you’ve fought so hard to hold onto something you’ve rejected your whole life.

it’s a question of what it means to let go, or whether she wants to at all.

(for the sake of tonight, she wants to hold on. wants to breathe in each moment till it chokes her whole, and her tears get lodged deep in her throat).

she sing-songs the words to the track looping in the background, and maybe at first she doesn’t know what it feels like to mouth off an empty string of words when she feels so hollow. what she is, is only a hollow shell trying to salvage anything to make her feel remotely full again.

what she pulls off is a simple melody when she sings, finds herself crying again as she muffles her mouth with the force of her own palm. save for another day, she’ll try again when she’s less on the verge of cracking whole.

inevitably, she finds herself drawn back to it like a moth at a flame. nearly sadistic how humans become attuned to the feeling of pain and emotional agony when she fixes up the mic to the computer and places it in front of her.

eyes swollen and puffy, tainted with a tinge of red — she’s been up nights still crying over another sight, another news article. another sign of him in shining lights.

perhaps, this is just bad karma she’s pocketed over the years, now coming into full fruition. but she dismisses those thoughts because tonight, she wants to be selfish and take in whatever she’s feeling and weave it into the words she keeps in her mind tonight — even if that rakes in the barrage of tears and inaudible breaths she takes in between.

there’s awareness that her voice is high pitched, breaching the hearts of ‘happy-go-lucky’, but for the sake of wanting to centralize herself in how she feels, she pulls her voice down low where there’s a melt of grit and a vacant mold that just holds the words still. the first verse goes, and she tries again — it still sounds too upbeat, so she pulls it lower to an almost-mumble where it fits the bill of what she’s envisioned.

it transfers over to the second, where it repeats. figures this is just one big picture of repetition when all her mind circles around is one thing.

but when she turns to the chorus, she cuts her voice into pieces. shifts the gones into pure staccatos with the roughness of each sharp turn. jagged and pieced apart, she doesn’t care for smoothness. because in hindsight, heartbreak is everything but smooth — it becomes a dissonance, too washed out by the cloud of media and over-romanticized dramas. she wants something real, vulnerable and honest by the time she overlays her voice to the croons of where the chorus hits.

there’s a lack of harmonies in the entirety of the song — simple and direct, it’s all she wants out a song where lyrics speaks volumes for the pains of heartbreak. no special effects nor special additions of blaring instruments, minjung keeps steady to the sounds of the electric guitar and her voice that falls up then down, twists itself into the full revelation of basing herself in the heartbreak of it all.

it’s no longer a puzzle piece to mix and match each fine-tuned element to a full song. instead, it becomes almost a story written from one to the next — smooth sailing, she finds herself rolling with the tides. the force of whatever drives this process, she masters. renders with all the little flaws sprawled in and all. a song that breeds a certain rawness to her heart, she keeps because for what it holds the gravity she feels in this moment.

#fmdverification #(이해불가서민정 → 직업)#(큐뀨↻queue)

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trendingnewsb · 7 years

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MIA: This is a white country, you dont have to spell it out to me

Maya Arulpragasam is bringing dancehall, hip-hop and grime to this years Meltdown. Is the outspoken British Sri Lankan the best argument for positive cultural appropriation?

The Guardian said that you couldnt shag to my record. As conversational openers go, MIAs beats the banal niceties of, say, Hello, how are you doing?. Its no surprise that she charges straight into a chat about why her last album was considered too confrontational for the bedroom by this paper. Its an icebreaker moulded to MIAs very own design: abrasive, compelling, underpinned by sex. Yeah, she finally concedes with a grin when I suggest we move past it, you cant have it all, can you?

Its a theme she warms up to when we talk about her edition of Meltdown at the Southbank Centre, which were ostensibly here to discuss. Usually, I wouldnt do something like this, she says, slouched under an oversized khaki coat dress. [But the organisers] were like: Hey, you can do whatever you want. Still, putting on the South Banks annual festival, curated in previous years by the likes of David Bowie, David Byrne and Patti Smith, has turned out to be a fairly arduous affair for MIA who says she doesnt do computers at the moment.

They didnt tell me it was nine days long. I thought it was a weekend. And then all my lists were, like, Well, this person wont be in London and that person is doing Glastonbury. Organising festivals is actually really complicated, she stresses. It wasnt just about dreaming something and then it appeared. Programming literally means, like, programming.

For all that Maya Arulpragasam didnt quite know what she was letting herself in for, one suspects the Southbank Centre didnt either; logistics aside, the mornings photoshoot has already been met with some flapping from the press officer made nervous by MIA climbing on the roof without safety clearance. Still, her lineup dancehall, Brooklyn hip-hop, depressive Swedish rap and Nigerian grime is perhaps the most underground the festival has seen in its 24 years. How much is she expecting to shake up its comfortable concert halls, cafe bars and conference-room spaces?

youtube

Click here to watch the video for last years Go Off.

When I was a teenager in London, I would just get a Travelcard and go somewhere, explore the city and go to weird places, she says. I would never judge the place, like, This is middle class and white. This is a white country, you dont have to spell it out to me, but there wasnt ever a limit on where I could go or what I could do.

A long, elliptical digression on London then and now follows, which takes in the optimistic multiculturalism of the 90s, Tamil house parties, empire and British identity. Its the bento box of an MIA interview: individually contained ideas that dont obviously bleed into one another and yet, overall, make a collective sense if youre prepared to go with it. Thats the key thing about MIA: you have to be willing to go with her to properly get her. Given that she still looks and sounds like a beautiful, bratty, art-school upstart and is prone to labyrinthine tangents, its easy to portray her as inarticulate or unhinged. But MIAs intelligence is instinctive rather than intellectual, and fuelled by the political.

The Mehrabian maxim that reckons that only 7% of communication is verbal is one that might best be proven by the transcript of a chat with MIA removed of all tone, attitude, context and body language. Take, for instance, her explanation of why only the future remains relevant:

As humans, we dont use our past and our history to work out the importance of what our role is in the present, she says. And if you cant use the past to define your present, then it should not be an element that holds back the future. Greece is a perfect example. More than Britain, they were brought to their knees, and not a single white country thought about saving them. And it was part of their heritage. Its where their mythology comes from or their concept of capitalism and democracy comes from. Nobody cared, everybody cared about the modern. Right?

Kim Kardashian is actually more powerful than Greece. She has more money than the whole of Greece, she continues. Therefore, thats where the power lies. If you then define it that way, then you kind of just have to live with that. And maybe whats happening in modern society: that if youre going to judge it by that, then other countries are gonna come in and define the future.

In print, its a statement that seems lacking in logic and coherence. In the moment, Im fairly sure Im able to follow her and we go on to consider how and where this future is being defined (for the record: You cant ignore the fact that China is going to be doing their thing in the next 50 years) and how Arulpragasam believes the immigration issue has become a red herring covering up a truth that can explain the American and British swing to conservative populism.

With Brexit, the idea was to get away from Europe and reinvent our identity, she says. And really, that identity was going to be American, but then they gave us Trump! So, everyone now is like, Oh shit, what is Britain? Are we going to rewind back to the 1800s? We cant. Its too late for that. So, going forward, we need a charismatic leader who then va va vooms the British identity. And we dont have that either.

People thinking that Im a bitch is totally unwarranted … MIA. Photograph: Stephanie Sian Smith/The Guide

The prime minister has called a snap election on the day we meet. Does MIA have any faith in our political system? Or in the left?

Everyone keeps going, Corbyn cant do this, but its, like, well, who else is there? she says. If people just left him alone to actually do the job and actually gave him some support, maybe hed be different. Treating him with so much contempt fighting that takes all his energy. How the fuck do you expect him to do interesting things? In any case insists the estranged daughter of a Tamil revolutionary, politicians are people who couldnt get jobs somewhere else.

MIAs politics, unwieldy and unslick though they may be, have often made her an easy target for tedious sneering in the press; the most insistent narrative is that, like Banksy, shes big on arch, subversive statement but lacks substance. Or that she is a hypocrite for making herself the poster girl for the worlds most marginalised people. And yet, shes one of the best pop stars Britain has ever produced. For all the ear-clanging experimentation of her five albums, MIA has always kept a sleeve full of pop bangers Bucky Done Gun, Paper Planes, Bad Girls, Finally that have sounded like little that came before or since her. Even if she didnt have the tunes, here is an art-school refugee Sri Lankan single mother with a visual aesthetic co-opted by everyone from Vetements to Versace who was born into political rebellion and revels in controversy. Gleefully gauche and carefree, MIA is the best argument for when cultural appropriation works. Bland singer-songstress beloved of Radio 2 playlists she isnt. So how much has the criticism bothered her?

People thinking that Im a bitch is totally unwarranted because Im not, she ays. I just had to fight for shit, and I still do. I just dont care any more. I dont know. She stops and starts. What I deal with as an artist, the media, the public persona, its a walk in the fucking park, compared to how confusing the universe really fucking is. Theres so much beauty in it and theres so much mystery, theres so much confusing shit in it. That is way more interesting to think about than why, like, Patricia hates me. You know what I mean? I laugh. Its like, Who the fuck is Patricia? and How can Patricia say this shit about me?. It just does not matter to me at all.As it is, she says shes most preoccupied with how to be a functioning grown up, an adult and a mother to an eight-year-old son (whose father Benjamin Bronfman is son to the billionaire heir of the Seagram fortune) born into immense privilege.

When the war came to an end in Sri Lanka in 2009, it actually did affect me, she explains. Everyone was, like, What the fuck does she know? Shes, like, a pop star, but that was my life. It was 50% of who I was, it was my identity. I didnt know what to do with myself. So I had a kid. Its the year the cause died, but the year my personal cause my son was born. And then, OK, I have to figure out what to do in very small parameters: I have a son, how is he going to see his grandma, am I going to make it there on Saturday? Can I make sure that I dont mess up his head by being depressed about certain things?

She struggles to reconcile her upbringing poor and living in Sri Lanka for her childhood to poor and living on a council estate in Mitcham, south London, in her adolescence with her sons. Im not very straightforward as an immigrant. That whole My kids would never see the pain that I saw; Im not like that. Im totally up for reintroducing him to the pain. I dont have any qualms about that. Her problems havent changed, she says, because of money or better circumstances. Whether Im in a mansion or a council flat, I would feel the same anxiety waking up going: I need to write this thing in a scrapbook, wheres my notepad? I would still have all those problems. I might still overcook the fish fingers. Those things are not going to magically transform because your house has changed. At the beginning I thought that money couldve saved my family. Very quickly I realised that money is not the thing.

Her conflict in wanting to being huge and commercial versus credible and ahead of the curve has been a persistent tension threaded through MIAs career. When I got into the music game, it was never an option to shut up and make lots of money. she says. To be a huge pop star, I would have to be, like, Yes, I think bombing Afghanistan was a great idea, I love our democracy and what it has achieved. I love the American flag and Im going to make a jumpsuit out of it. I just think it was important to have all of those Arab Springs, and its great and lets drink Coca-Cola. I had to do that, and do it all in a thong. Could I have done that if it meant that my mum had the nicest house in Chiswick by the river?

youtube

Click here to se the video for MIAs Bad Girls.

Does she worry about money now? If youre preaching living within your means, you have to, to some extent. But I also know that if youre someone in society that speaks out about injustice or political issues, one of the things that happens is that you get economically punished, 100%. I take that hit all the time.

The most recent, obvious example was MIA being forced to quit her headline slot at Afropunk last year, following a contentious quote in which she asked in an interview why Beyonc and Kendrick Lamar might not discuss why Muslim lives matter or Syrian lives matter. I dont regret [raising the issue], she says, with triumphant chutzpah. You saw how bad it was. And the Muslim ban didnt happen just with Trump, it was already happening under Obama. But you couldnt say that about him, you couldnt say that he introduced the Muslim ban, or banned seven different countries, or was already monitoring people, or dropped more bombs than Trump has. In truth, Obamas administration did identify the seven countries on Trumps list for additional screening measures, but it didnt bar their nationals. Shes already skipped ahead. The quantity of damage cant be quantified right now, she insists. Well have to wait the four years. After eight years of Obama, we kind of knew [his failings], but we just werent allowed to say them because he was so great. He was better than any person in Hollywood that I wouldve watched. He was really likable and just had loads of swag. That doesnt mean that you have to deny the truth, though.

This (and much more) comes moments after she tells me she has no time for opinions these days. She claims she doesnt read the news any more and that her primary sources for information are customers at the local kebab shop, taxi drivers and then sort of figuring it out. What about the state of the world? MIAs moment as an agitprop pop activist has never seemed more potent. Politics? I have no time for these things because Im so stuck in the zone. Ive become a hermit. [Meltdown] is actually giving me the chance to actually go out and meet people again. Ive gone for weeks without talking to a person, I do that happily. I tell her I dont believe her, as I suspect it would be a recipe for her to go fully barmy.

Im actually quite an extreme person, so I dont see that as madness. I see that as, like, solitude, doing a phase of solitude is not that bad. After declaring her fifth album AIM to be her final one, shes also trying to find new ways to channel her creativity. Im trying to write a film. I havent stepped into it yet because I want it to be good. Once you hit the start button you cant really stop it. She has, she tells me, the added complication of ADD to contend with. When was that diagnosed? I just have it. Dont even need diagnosis, its a waste of time, its a waste of the NHS. In truly blithe MIA style, she adds: Its just when you have too many ideas and not enough ways to get them out.

MIAs Meltdown is at the Southbank Centre, SE1, 9-18 June