#I’ve complained about this before but I will again

[to-the-stars8]

A Table for Two

Jason Todd x Reader Server Au Ao3

Chapter 3

Until the bell above the front door chimed, you'd been busy getting the cooks and Jason ready. Thankfully, Cobblepot had a simple palate. The chefs had already whipped up a risotto, keeping it warm and waiting for the moment he sucked the life out of the entire restaurant.

You stood at the front of the house at full attention like a soldier. Dealing with Cobblepot was almost like being at war. 

He limped in on cue, and Elena was already sliding out from behind the hostess stand, forcing a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. Cobblepot, for lack of a kinder word, was grotesque. His skin looked grey, like he was sick or dying, and his nose, protruding outward from his face like Pinocchio, was hairy with warts. When he smiled, which was rare, his teeth were yellow—Too yellow. Luckily, you never got close enough to smell his breath. 

If he wasn’t such a colossal asshole, you might’ve felt bad for judging.

As Elena guided him to his seat near the window, you approached with your best neutral expression. Cobblepot didn’t bother hiding his irritation. His heavy breathing came with a sneer as he squinted up at you.

“Oh, it’s you again,” He mumbled. “I like the other one better. The boy. He talked less.”

Honestly, you wished Will were there, too. “He’s not in until later, unfortunately. What can I get—”

He waved you off, already motioning to one of his hulking bodyguards, who stepped forward like backup. “You know what I want. My risotto and my wine. You should know which one.”

You managed out a meek, “Yes, sir, Mr. Cobblepot. Just a moment.”

Your feet couldn’t have moved toward the kitchen faster. Lamar already had the Risotto out, sitting under a heated lamp to keep it warm, so all you needed was the wine. Oswald Cobblepot, along with every other mobster in the city, liked expensive wines. Nicky liked them, too, and that, you expected, was half the reason they kept coming back. 

When the wine rack proved empty for the wine you were looking for, you went to storage. 

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” you whispered, darting to wine boxes, checking every label like your life depended on it.

“Everything okay?” 

Looking over your shoulder, you spotted Jason standing there. He had an apron on now, the black blending in with his clothes, and was wiping his hands with a dish towel. You shook your head, telling him you needed a Barolo Riserva or Cobblepot was going to throw a fit. Jason didn’t seem as panicked by the information as you were. Nonchalantly, he peered into one of the boxes. 

“Just sub it for the Gattinara Riserva,” he said, like it should have been obvious. “Same grape and region. He won’t notice.”

You grabbed the bottle out the box, looking at it before saying, “Fuck it. Not like our ass won’t be fucked either way.”

You poured it into a decanter in an attempt to make it look fancy and rushed it out alongside the risotto. The bodyguards surrounded Cobblepot, whispering about something or other, and only stopped when you approached. 

The Penguin had a little ritual whenever he was served: once the plate hit the table, you weren’t allowed to leave. You had to stand there, silent, waiting for his judgment. He took a bite, chewed, then let out a grunt of approval. Next came the wine. Your nails dug into your palm as you watched him toss it back. He paused briefly, considered the flavor, then nodded.

Now you waited for the words.

After a few more bites and another pour of wine, he finally grumbled, “Go somewhere. We’ve business to discuss. I’ll yell if I need you.”

That usually meant something shady was about to go down—but you knew better than to ask questions.

“Yes, sir.”

Quietly, you skipped to the kitchen out of glee. Amira met you back there, eyes wide. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen him not complain before,” She half-whispered. 

You grabbed her hands, hopping foot to foot, happy that the worst part was over. “I know!” When you saw Jason emerge from nowhere, you hurried over to him. “Oh my God—how the fuck did you know that about the wine?”

He blinked, like he hadn’t expected you to ask. “My dad liked expensive wine.”

You nodded, but something about that answer didn’t sit right. Nodding, you turned to peer through the round windows of the kitchen doors. Cobblepot said something to his bodyguard, a few pieces of food spewing from his lips. 

Disgusted, you turned away only to be face-to-face with Jason’s chest. He didn’t notice at first, as he was too busy looking through the window at Cobblepot. 

“Uh,” You started, voice cracking a little. Clearing your throat, you continued, “Excuse me.”

“Shit, sorry,” He said, side-stepping, keeping his eyes on Cobblepot. 

Amira slid in beside him, leaning just enough to peek through the window. Then she looked up at Jason, lashes fluttering. He didn’t even glance her way until she began to hum a little tune. His stare was cool, like she had interrupted something. Though if Amira noticed, she didn’t act like it. 

“What does Barney have you doing?” She asked nonchalantly, like she wasn’t just trying to get his attention. 

Jason pulled back from the door entirely, crossing his arms as he spoke, “I was washing dishes. But, he’s protective over that area.” 

Amira’s laugh cut off abruptly when Cobblepot bellowed, “Waitress!” With a sigh, you excused yourself, abandoning the kitchen chatter. Jason followed, despite your earlier insistence he stayed put. As a compromise, he lingered by the server’s station, close enough to watch, far enough not to draw Cobblepot’s attention—hopefully.

You smoothed your apron and forced a pleasant smile into place. “Yes, Mr. Cobblepot? Can I get you anything else?”

He squinted up at you, his monocle shifting with the motion, before his eyes slid toward Jason. A sneer curled his lips. “What? Brought your own bodyguard?”

You didn’t find it funny, but let out a polite chuckle anyway. “No, sir. He’s the busboy. Just here to clear your dishes.” You gestured to the empty plate and glass. “Would you care for a cannoli? They’re fresh from the kitchen.”

“No, I’m done,” He spat, throwing his cloth napkin onto the table. He handed you a hundred-dollar bill before moving to get up.

“Thank you, Mr. Cobblepot, have a good day,” You said, trying to hide the chipper tone in your voice.  

He was slow with his movements, and, at one point, you were afraid he might kneel over and die. He made it to the door, luckily, where Elena sent him off with a kind farewell. Not that he ever replied to the sentiment. 

As you went to the computers, you told Jason to take the dishes. He did so, albeit a bit clumsily, before disappearing into the back. You were putting the cash into the POS system when you heard the crash, followed by Barney yelling. 

Amira, walking past you quickly, said over her shoulder, “Yo, Jason just broke a glass back there. Might wanna get your trainee.”

You groaned, muttering to yourself, as you glanced towards the front. People were starting to bustle in. The lunch rush always had great timing. There was another crash, followed by Lamar yelling for you. 

With a sigh, you mumbled, “Just a few more hours. Then maybe I'd cry in the walk-in.”

[wdxghosty]

As long as I have you

Rise!Donnie x OC fic

CyberxStich 💜🩷 - (Donnie POV)

Word count- 1626

Tw!!!: mentions of gore, implied nudity, mental breakdown I guess? Beware of angst.

…..it’s been three weeks since the… incident. Me and Ophie haven’t spoken since, & I don’t blame her. But! today’s our monthly movie night, & she wants to watch Sucker Punch (again). I wonder what snacks she got this time? Probably a bunch of candy, or a whole cake. Ophelia isn’t someone we should trust with food, she always gonna go with something sweet. At first I hated it, but she always make me something separate with less than what’s her usual amount of sugar, I’m shocked she’s not a diabetic.

I make my way to her apartment complex, the apartment her parents pay for. It’s nice in a nice part of the city, I would say good but good in this town when it comes to housing is a couple hundred thousand.

Rustling around in my pockets I find the fob and get in. I haven’t really noticed until now how much I’m at her place, I don’t even think the receptionist knows I don’t live here. Should I be embarrassed about that? I get to her floor and open the door, to no one’s surprise she bought cake, cookies, and other pastries, instead of food.

She snuck up behind me from the kitchen and placed her head on my shoulder. “You look disappointed?”

“I already ordered pizza,” i turned around and grabbed her face, inspecting it. A grin plastered itself on my face as I try to hold back a laugh, “nice to see your eyes grew back.”

“Oh fuck you Daniel,” she pushed me away before I snatched her back to embrace her. “You like hugs now?”

“I make acceptions.” I let go of her and walk over to the couch, “so are we watching the Snyder cut, or do you wanna complain about how the regular version ruins the flow of the story?”

She fakes offense, before jumping on my side of the couch taking up the majority of it, pushing me into a small corner. “I do not do that.”

I cock an eyebrow at her, looking her up and down amused by her obvious lie. “You don’t?”

“No.”

“Never?”

“Nuh-uh.”

“So when you make us watch hazbin hotel so you can complain about the writting, you’re not doing that?”

“No… not all the time no.” There’s a pause she looks at me with a straight face before breaking out in laughter, “But we are watching the regular version so I can complain.”

“Of course.” I roll my eyes before getting comfortable on the couch, a plush of a snake right next to me.

Ten minutes into the movie the pizza gets here and she gets up to go get it. And this is a very normal day for us… Why is it, normal? I saw my… I saw Ophelia gouge her own eyes out screaming about death or immortality?

Blood was all over the bathroom floor flowing out of her eye sockets, the actual balls were completely destroyed. She lost so much blood and yet she acts like nothing happened. she looks like nothing happened. No scars, new eyes materialized out of thin air, and despite not going to a hospital she’s perfectly fine.

Why do I hate that? I mean it’s not normal, but that’s not why I dislike it. I’ve always been her person, for lack of a better term, or whatever I’d describe it as? A hyper independent child who hated to rely on anyone, relied on me. I found pride in that… it’s stupid but I liked feeling wanted by her.

Even when she didn’t need anyone anymore she kept me, she never asks for anything from anyone but me. And when she lost her mind she wouldn’t even let me hold her… and now she’s fine. I didn’t get to talk her through it, or buy her way more junk food than necessary, or rewatch the boondocks for the 20th time while she recovered.

I didn’t get to be with her in her vulnerable state, a luxury only I have access to. I didn’t get to help her. I wasn’t needed.

And now she’s jumping around like nothing happened. It pisses me off.

“Donnie?” I jolt up shocked by her sudden presence. “You got half supreme and half pineapple, you must be in love with me?” She cups her cheeks in her hands and sways around, before dropping her body on mine.

I let out a sigh, “well you are hosting, and you can’t go wrong with supreme. But don’t expect me to touch the pineapple.”

She lets out a cackle before slumping back over to her side of the couch, “I don’t expect shit out of you Donatello. I CANT BELIEVE THEY GOT RID OF THE SHOW SCENE!”

———————————

The movie finished a couple hours ago, & like any other movie night we put on cartoons while talking and eating the rest of the snacks. When she lived in California we would do this over a video call, but thanks to our time differences I still don’t know if she stayed up as late as I did.

Eating a slice of the ube cake she made, Kalissa curled up on the couch eye glue to the tv screen.

The same eyes that were reduced to mush a couple weeks ago.

“Ugh! I’m sooooo sad they didn’t do anything with Marvin or Eduardo, I hate it when kids shows get the best relationships! Why can’t they make this fo-“

“What did I do?”

She looks up at me confused, “what?”

“Well I had to have done something, for you to cast me aside like that.” I threw my arm over the back of the couch and lean on its arm.

She sits up and puts her cake on the table, “Donnie what are we even talking about?” She pushes her hair out of her as she tries to avoid eye contact.

“Was it the k-“ my words get caught in my throat as she looks back up at me with penitent eyes, “It’s just… you- you locked me out and I…” I take a deep breath in but struggle to release it. “O- Ophelia that was terrifying! I- I thought… when I opened that door- all that blood!” my throat suddenly tightens, “I thought you were dead! But you weren’t. despite having no eyes you could see, even though you lost enough blood to fill up buckets you didn’t die? A- AND YOU!” I get up off the couch and start pacing around.

“YOU WON’T TELL ME WHAT HAPPENED! THE FUCK HAPPENED TO YOU COULD ALWAYS COUNT ON ME!?” My voice cracks, I can’t feel my eyes start to water, “I- I’m sorry. I thought you-“ the look on her face is blank, completely unreadable, almost as if she isn’t registering what’s going on.

“I thought you felt the same, and considering you didn’t, I don’t expect you to be happy with me but- I STILL CARE ABOUT YOU AND YOU JUST- YOU JUST!” I let out an exasperated huff, panting for air. I can feel myself start to sweat as my throat closes up, or is it getting lumpy?

“I… I think I’m in love with you. And if you don’t want me back, I want you to just say that so we can go back to being friends. I don’t want to deal with the things you make me feel if you just gonna… if you.”

I’m at a loss for words. Literally, I don’t know how to Finnish this?

Why would I love a woman that makes me feel like this? It’s like she doesn’t even care, why wouldn’t she care, SHE ALWAYS CARES! W-why do I hear foot steps?

I look up to see her walking away from me to her room. I fall to my knees in disbelief, “OPHELIA! come back here don’t! Don’t leave me again you asshole! You don’t get to just walk away or shut me out w- when you don’t feel like dealing with me!” My breathing only gets worse, I clutch my throat, I can feel my tears running down my face as I curl up on the ground, “O-Ophie! Don’t… come back.”

———————

“Nice to see you’re awake.” She holds my cheek in her hand, gently slapping me awake, “you passed out after the whole… thing. So I drew you a bath. Lavender scented!”

“…you leave me on the floor hyperventilating, curled up in a ball, and now we’re taking a bath together. Is this supposed to make me feel better?”

She looks away from me, “Don’t respond to this, I don’t want to hear your voice after I say this.”

“Say what?”

“I… this is sooo cringey. I am in love with you, I think? I mean I think what love is I feel for you, but I’m not sure…” she closed her eyes and covered her ears, as her face grew more flushed.

“Donnie you didn’t do anything. I don’t want you to feel like, I don’t want you. But the whole thing with my eyes I can’t explain… not yet at least. I just need you to promise you won’t worry.”

I didn’t say anything, I just hugged her. I hate not knowing what’s going on, and I hate this even more because it’s fucking with my life. But she hugs me back, and in her embrace I stop caring that much.

Ophelia is a lot of things but she always pushes through her problems, and gets out unscathed. and if she says I should just trust her, I will. reluctantly? Yes. But I will none the less. Getting to hold her for the first time in what feels like ages… as long as I can keep my Ophium I’ll be fine. We’ll be fine.

[batcvntry]

[the darkness at the heart of my love]

relationship [Stack X FTM!Reader]

ratings [18+; minors dni]

word count [1,356]

warnings [Spoilers {but not really, just putting this in case}; Vampire bites + turning; Gay sex; Spit; Unprotected Sex; I think that's it but i apologize if I miss anything]

⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧

You push through the dance floor, hot bodies all around you but you only care about finding one. Stack. Finally you break free from the dance floor and wander up to the bar, waiting for Grace to finish with another patron. After she is done she comes over to you, a friendly smile on her face.

“What’ll it be this time?”

“Give me one of those Irish beers please.” You smile back at her before dropping your voice, “You seen Stack around? It’s been 30 minutes and I can't find him anywhere.” You only keep your voice down so other patrons don’t get worried about one of the twins going missing. Grace pulls out a chilled beer and takes the top off for me,

“Last time I seen him was when he went up to talk to Smoke, about ten minutes ago.” She points to the small second floor of the old sawmill. You take a sip of your beer and slap a five dollar bill on the bar, smiling and thanking her, walking away before she can tell you that five dollars is too much for one beer. You start making your way through the crowd again to get to the stairs, but before you can get to them someone pulls you into the storage room. 

You turn around to tell the person off when you are met with the familiar dazzling smirk of Stack, he takes your beer and places it on one of the wooden stock shelves in the room. He doesn’t give any time to question him before pinning you against the wall, his breath hot on your neck. You whine softly under your breath, so softly he would have missed it if not for his new (and hidden) vampire instincts. His strong hands run down your sides as he kisses your neck, gently whispering between each kiss.

“Been so long since we’ve been like this.. Let me make it up to you.” His voice is low and full of hunger. On instinct you tilt your neck to the side causing his eyes to shine with an unnatural glow, your hands work at getting his three piece suit off. 

“Where’s all this comin’ from? I’ve been chasing after you since you got back home and you’ve been pushing me away.” You ask despite submitting your body to your old lover. He grins against your neck, pulling away slightly.

“You complaining now?” You quickly shake your head, your cheeks turning light red at his words. “That’s what I thought, baby. I let that tight little pussy get away once and I ain’t gonna let it again.” 

You grab the collar of his pristine white button up and pull him into a desperate kiss, letting him gently lower you to the floor. He crawls on top of you, pushing his knee between your thighs, right against your clothed cunt. A small gasp falls from your lips as he tears your shirt open, his eyes darkening with hunger at the sight of your unbinded tits. His calloused golden brown hands run up your comparably pale skin, cupping your chest as he leans down and kisses you again. Though it’s been seven years since he last touched you, he still remembers all of the ways to make you squirm, like circling the edges of your areolas, causing your nipples to turn into stiff peaks. Your whimper gets trapped between his lips as he slips his tongue into your mouth, something about him tastes different.. Tastes better.

He pulls away, drool dripping down his chin. You can’t help but grind against his knee, finally getting his button up undone. When you notice the drool you gently reach up and wipe it away, your pupils completely blown out with lust.

“Baby, you’re drooling.” You say softly, noticing a sinister glint in Stack’s eyes. He grins, leaning over you.

“You want some?” His voice is low and husky, his chain and dog tags hanging over your face. You nod dumbly, blushing deep red, squeaking out a soft ‘yea’. Stack smirks at you, gripping your jaw with enough force to open your mouth. He looks deep in your eyes as he slowly spits in your mouth, you eagerly swallow all of it. Meanwhile your hands work to get his pants undone, you whine under your breath as your fingers ghost over his hardness. 

He pulls your pants and boxers off in one fluid movement, hastily throwing your legs over his shoulders. His eyes are fixated on your soaking wet cunt, he guides his cock to your entrance, pushing in without hesitation. You let out an unintentionally loud moan that echoes around the small room, Stack’s lips curl into that damned smirk that you tried to get out of your head for seven years. You wrap your arms around his neck, gently pulling him closer for another kiss as he starts thrusting. 

Seven years has been far too long in your opinion, sure you had tried to find other lovers a few years after Stack left but no one compared to him. His hands gently knead your breasts, his lips leaving yours to trail down your neck. Soft moans and whimpers leak through the walls, not that anyone outside the storage room would be able to tell with all the music that’s playing. He groans lowly in your ear,

“Seven years was worth the wait… Now we got eternity ahead of us.” Before you can question what he means Stack grabs your tits roughly, slamming his hips into yours. Your body gently moves with each of his thrusts, your cunt clenching around his heavy cock as you get closer to a much needed orgasm. He grins against your neck, knowing he’s moments away from what he really wants. “That’s it baby, come for me. Come and I’ll make you mine forever.”

Your mind is too clouded with pleasure to question what he means but your body follows his directions, your back arches off of the floor as Stack’s name comes off of your lips like a prayer. You come hard on his cock, slick leaking onto the floor from how intense your orgasm is. Stack keeps thrusting through it, his fingers tweaking your nipples to help you ride through your release. He gives a few more hard thrusts before coming deep in your cunt, he pants against your neck. But before you can recover from what just happened he whispers,

“Sorry, love.. I promise it will be worth it in a minute.” He doesn’t give you time to answer before sinking his once hidden fangs into your jugular vein, his big hand covers your mouth to muffle your screams. His cock still buried deep in your cunt as he tears a chunk of flesh away, tears brim in your eyes as you feel life fading from your body. He pulls away from your neck, gently stroking the hair out of your face. “Shh, shh, shh. You’ll be back in a little bit, I promise.” 

Stack stays deep inside of you as the light fades from your eyes, gently holding your limp head close to his chest as your blood drips from your chin onto his chest. He hums ‘This little light of mine’ as he strokes your hair, knowing it will only be a few more minutes before you wake up. Despite the rough nature of Remmick and how controlling he is, Stack is oddly gentle for a vampire.

Just like he told you after about 10 minutes you groan against his chest, gently reaching for your neck but he stops you. Stack gently puts your head down on a large bag of cornmeal, smiling softly down at you.

“Careful now love, you don’t want to touch that.” He leans down and gently kisses your forehead, not bothering to hide his vampiric state now that he’s turned you. You grin up at him, your once warm brown eyes now hazy and gray. You pull him down into a proper kiss, gently grinding down on his cock which is still nestled in your tight cunt.

“How bout a proper welcome back, soldier?”

[maudie-duan]

Series Summary: Harry has been fighting to keep his relationship with Olivia afloat for nearly two years. At what point do you choose to either endure or let the strain of the world defeat his ambitious hopes of a lasting relationship? Or will a single night and a fleeting encounter be enough to change the projection of Harry’s path? Maybe our ‘Mystery Girl,’ Shiloh, will just happen to be in the right place at the right time. 

Word Count: 5.2K

Warning: SLOW-BURNER, Strong Language, Major Angst, Eventual Smut, Emotional.

H: I know you said you were busy, but is there any chance we could see each other before the premiere? Surprisingly, my schedule is wide open.

S: I’m sorry, but I really can’t. I’m filming today and have a meeting with some sponsors tomorrow…plus a team meeting with my team to go over the details for the next month. I’m super booked. I’m already tired.

H: That’s quite a list. Figured it would be a stretch, but I had to ask.

H: I’m dying to see you, if we’re sticking with honesty. I know I’ve told you already.

Shiloh didn’t get back to me until later that night. I must have caught her right before a live because thirty minutes later, I was watching her and Florence live on Instagram, wondering if she would ever ask me to be on the show or if that would spark too much chatter.

I’m not sure how I would handle myself. I kept re-reading the message I sent, wondering if it was too forward and needy for her already, but I couldn’t help myself. We’ve only really been able to text since we started talking, Shiloh giving me her nights, long phone calls into the late hours. Giving me time, I know she'll be hurting for later once her day catches up, so I can’t really complain. Whether we’re texting or talking on the phone, she’s found a way to have me there with her.

“Is it boring listening to us edit?” Shiloh speaks up. She has me on speaker phone while she and her friends edit videos. This is the second night in a row, but I’m happy to do it, to listen to her thoughts: every idea, every comment, the suggestions she takes from her team. She’s all hands on deck, and it’s so refreshing. She has complete control of her image, and it’s impressive, motivating, and at times, I even find myself taking mental notes.

“I’m not bored, I promise, I’m taking this opportunity to send out some emails myself,” I tell her, the smile on my face stretching when her laugh fills the line.

“Well, look at us, being worker bees…” Then she laughs again, “I think we’re almost done, if you don’t mind hanging tight?”

“I have no other obligations but to lie in bed and talk to you. Although it is getting close to my bedtime…” Another laugh sounds, but it’s not hers. It must be her friend Annie, the super fan, and I laugh to myself, wondering what it must feel like to be her friend in this situation—a situation so random that even I don’t know how it happened.

“I’m sorry, old man…are you going on a run in the morning?” She asked, with a casual sarcasm that seemed to drip from her mouth, something I’ve witnessed from watching her videos, but she’s quick on her feet, and sometimes even I can’t keep up.

“I was thinking about it…what’s your address, and I’ll run by your house.” I poke.

“Yeah, right, sir, like I would give you my address that easily.”

“It was worth a try…” I tell her, “You’d probably be sleeping anyway…”

“I do cherish my sleep…” and then she shifts back into work mode: “What if we cut six minutes here…and then if we absolutely have to, I can refilm the last three minutes?” That outro was weird even for me…”

“I really like what Kevin said about the intro. I think we should stick to that idea for sure.” She tells them, “And when I was looking at the calendar, it looks like we could actually mark off—”

She sighs, “Damn…these six days…wait…do we really think six days in NYC?”

I sit up then, pressing the phone into my ear harder. “I think I want to cancel this. I kind of want to stay here for a bit. We’ve been on the go for a while now.”

“I’d be down to cancel if that’s what you want?” Annie tells her, “We could fit another interview in here instead—”

Shiloh interrupts, excitement spilling from her tone, “Oh my gosh! I forgot to tell you who freaking reached out to me.”

“Who?” Annie asks, and I stay quiet even though I’m curious myself.

“Billie!”

“No way, dude, shut up!”

“No, I kid you not. I had to like check the profile like six times.” She laughs, “I messaged her back and was like girl…of all the people to slide into my DM’s…”

They both share a laugh, but I’m dying to see her face, see the excitement, memorize the way I know the smile would reach her eyes, witness it firsthand. I want to be the person making her this excited, and now I’m dying to know what she thinks of me, of us, dying to know if she wants the same things.

Is it insane to want forever already? Because there’s never been a person I’ve felt this drawn to, the others were mere place holders; they had to have been. “As in Billie Eilish?” I ask, just to soothe my own curiosity.

“Yes, Harry! There are no other Billies in my world.” And then Annie speaks up, “That’s her wife.”

“Her wife?” I repeat.

“Yeah, that's my baby. I would marry her in a heartbeat...Well...actually only if Kristen Stewart didn’t ask me first.” She says.

“Hmm…” I hum, mulling over this new bit of information, “So, then I don’t stand a chance, huh?

And this draws a giggle from both ladies, then Kevin lets out a loud groan, “Bro, you’re the only option in this household, don’t worry…trust me.”

“Oh my god, Kevin…” Then there’s a shuffle on the line, and when Shiloh talks, this time her voice is the only one I hear.

“Alright, guys, I’m calling it a night.” She huffs, “I’ll be in my room…”

I laugh, my tone rasping through the mouthpiece of the phone, “I'm the only option in the household?”

She scoffs, “Don’t let that go to your head. I have options, trust me.” I know she’s joking, but there’s a serious undertone. She, in fact, has many options, but I want to be the only one.

I let the phone go silent, and the sound of a door closing behind her is prominent, and for some reason, I’m finding myself sulking in her comment, even though I know it wasn’t meant to harm.

“Harry…” Shiloh speaks, cutting through the silence, “Are you still there?”

“Yeah,” I breathe, a knot forming in my throat.

“Tell me what you’re thinking?” she asks, and her voice echoes, “Sorry, I’m putting you on speaker phone. I need to get ready for bed.”

“I'm thinking we should FaceTime while you're getting ready?” I joke.

“Ha. Ha—maybe after I change…” she tells me, and I can hear the smile in her tone, and all I can do is picture her getting undressed.

"You know all you have to do is pull up the pictures from our photoshoot, and you would have all the images you want." She pokes, "Alex sent me every single picture."

"Wait, what?" I force out, nearly choking on the words with a new sense of excitement coursing through me.

"Did you not ask for them?" She questions.

"No..."

"Hmmm..." she hums, and now I'm in my head, reeling over the idea of having every SINGLE picture.

She was quiet for a moment, and then the sound of running water pulls me from my thoughts. “I’m going to brush my teeth real quick. I’m sorry, it might be loud.” Her voice reverberates around the bathroom, but then she switches us to FaceTime, and my entire body surges with a whole new energy- a new curiosity itching at my brain.

This is the third night in a row that she’s taken me to bed with her, walking me through each of her routines. The first time I watched her, I couldn’t believe it was happening. It felt like my very own personal live. Her casual demeanor as calm, as if she was filming for her channel.

The night seemed to bring on a whole new persona for us both, dreamlike, the two of us able to let our guards down. Each conversation seemed to flow without effort, the phone a vessel as she seemed to float into my world. She was no longer a daydream, but a real person on the other end of my screen; it was the closest we had been since that night I called her and made a fool of myself.

But I think we’re finally past that.

There’s so much I’ve already learned about her. Stuff that hasn’t made it to the screen trust me, I’ve seen everything I could get my hands on, and yes, I’ve told her—she said she’s done the same, except she's had the upper hand because my whole life is practically out there for the entire world to unpack.

And she’s not wrong.

Every new detail that seems worthy of remembering, I’ve listed in my notes app. I don’t want to forget a single thing, big or small, I want her to know I’m in this a hundred percent—it’s scary, but I don’t want to push it. Everything feels fragile, a delicate balance, and I don’t want to tip the scales before I ever get a real chance.

“I’m so tired…” she whispers, pulling the blanket up to her chin. She looks cozy, peaceful, on the verge of falling asleep, but I’m not ready to let her go.

“Don’t fall asleep, yet Shi…” I tell her, my voice low.

Her green eyes are trained on me, the side of her face buried into her pillow, “It sounds really sweet when you call me that…”

“Do you like it?” I ask.

“I like it a lot, or maybe it’s your accent…I don’t know. I like your voice; it makes me tired,” she says, her eyes flitting shut, a soft smile playing on her lips.

I let out a quiet laugh. “It makes you tired?” I question.

“Yeah…” she breathes, and she doesn’t open her eyes. " Like it’s cozy…” A smile stretches across her face then, and just as it’s almost at full mass, her eyes flutter open.

“I could listen to it all night.” She adds.

“You can listen to it anytime you want,” I tell her.

And this keeps the smile on her face, “We finally get to see each other tomorrow,” Shiloh says.

“I know…crazy, right?”

“Are you nervous?” She asks.

“I don’t know…maybe a little, are you?”

“Yes, what if I’m not the same in person…” she says with a shy, breathy laugh.

“We’ve technically already met in person, twice, kind of…”

“Twice?” She repeats

“Once at the Gucci show and the photoshoot,” I explain, knowing the Gucci show doesn’t count, but it counts for me.

“Harry, to be honest, I was trying to avoid you at that Gucci show.”

And this is news to me—I told her that I was drawn to her, but we never really got into the details of it, just that it was a mutual thing. Now I’m curious. “Avoiding me?” I ask.

“Yeah, you felt–” Then Shiloh laughs again, covering her eyes, as a huge grin stretches across her face, “I don’t know. If I tell you, will you promise you won’t think I’m weird?

My heart picks up at this, a thousand questions already circling in my mind. What if she didn’t feel it, the draw, what if this had all been entirely one-sided, the depth in which I’ve felt her, longed for her since the moment I saw her, because that’s what it was, longing.

And when she uncovers her eyes, her smile drops, and she smooths her lips together, the mood shifting in a single breath. “Harry…” she says her tone low.

“That night…I was really nervous, and you like kind of became my lifeline. I don’t know how to explain it. Like if I felt myself freaking out, I would find you in the room…well actually, you were kind of in my line of sight the whole time. It was crazy, but I would look at you, and something just felt right, I don’t know…I know that sounds crazy, but I just felt it...” She finishes, and my heart is fucking soaring, and as I take in her face, I see tears welling in her eyes.

“It’s not crazy…I promise, does this upset you?” I whisper, my throat tightening, but I feel it too, the unexplainable emotions that have seemed to follow us, circle us like vultures, haunt our every thought, because it's evident that she feels it too, and it’s everything

“I don’t know…” She chokes out, then the first tear is running down her cheek, leaving a glossy trail, and it’s breaking my heart because I want so badly to reach out and touch her, to have been able to wipe away any tears that I’ve brought her, because even if she hasn’t told me, I know I’ve already hurt her; and the pain of that has been like crawling through the desert, praying for rain.

“I’m scared,” she tells me.

These are the moments he seems to take over my mind.

Always when I least expect it.

One moment, my mind is swirling with the madness at hand, my life, my task, everything that is entirely mine, and suddenly, I'm thinking about those green eyes, his smile–and then the next thing I know, I'm spiraling through memories we haven't even made, imagining him in moments that don't even exist, dreaming of how his hand might feel against the small of my back guiding me through a crowd, or the sound of his laughter in the early morning, rough with sleep, but honest and raw. The way his name might taste on my tongue in the heat of a moment I'm too scared to initiate. What are we when the phone no longer serves as our lifeline?

It's terrifying how quick my mind is to race ahead, building our future from tiny details, while mindlessly conjuring a life around a person I barely even know. And yet I can't stop the flood, this rush of wanting that sweeps me from one thought to the next like I'm caught in a current too strong to fight, because there's no resisting, because the moment I fight is the moment the current takes me under--to a place where I'm fighting for the past, fighting for the old me, but she doesn't exsist anymore.

And I keep telling myself to be careful. I keep telling myself that fantasy rarely survives reality, and maybe this is just another daydream I'm trying to breathe into life, another moment of wanting something so bad that I begin to shape it into something that isn't real–these are the moments I want to pull back, to protect myself, but now I'm thinking it's too late, because I think I've been falling since before I even uttered his name from my lips, and now I'm just waiting for the impact, for the storm overhead.

“Okay, I think we’re set,” Kevin confirms, handing me the mic. My makeup artist is touching up my lipstick, right before we go live for Vogue, and it feels like pure fucking chaos, but all I can do is grin and bear it.

“Shiloh, make sure you’re on your mark…okay, now shift right, okay, just like that. I think you should hold the mic in your left hand, it looks better on the screen—”

Annie is in “go mode,” and thank God she’s such a powerhouse because she has been my saving grace in these big moments. Not a single thing seems to shake her, and every time I look at her, I try to embody her energy because she is my rock in this moment.

“Okay, give us a quick intro before we roll, the countdown begins now, in 5…4…3…2…1…and NOW—!”

Then we were off to the races, and in no time I was slipping into my filming persona like a glove that fit perfectly–people coming and going, jokes being made, all smiles, all the while wondering when I would see Harry.

"My darling, Shiloh," Florence coos as she approaches, "It's crazy...It's like we've just done this..."

“Floooo! Oh my god, I’m obsessed with your look, I kid you not! Tell us what you’re wearing…” and just as she’s about to answer, Harry’s name is being shouted, tossed around in the background over and over, and Florence turns to look.

“I guess our star has finally made it,” She laughs out, her tone laced with sarcasm, and I can’t help but laugh.

“You may not get a decent interview with all that noise…of course no hate Vogue…” she says, turning to the camera, but she’s right, the fucking crowd is roaring, even though the real star of the movie is standing next to me, and that's when it hits me that Harry will be standing before me in just minutes.

“Oh my gosh, Shiloh, let’s not talk about my dress, lets talk about yours, holy fuck…wait am I allowed to say that?”

“You are now,” I laugh out, resting a hand on her shoulder.

“Oh my gosh, can I just say, you have to be the most gorgeous person here tonight, like I cannot, get over this dress, is it glued to your body, like I’m so obsessed.” Then her hand is moving to my waist taking in the dress.

“That’s so sweet, but really, who are YOU wearing, it’s freaking stunning my friend. Black is so classic, but it’s perfect on you.”

"Darling, it's Louis Vuitton...Oh no...I think I'm being called...I'm sorry to cut our interview short, love, I'll see you tonight, yeah?" She rushes, reaching in for a hug, and when I look over her shoulder, Harry was approaching faster than I imagined.

And that was the moment the panic set in.

Like standing on the edge of a cliff, looking down, wondering how you got here in the first place, and my heart slams against my ribs like it's trying to escape, my body already reacting, trying to reach him before I could, yet instead of fighting, a piece of me wanted to surrender. There was an interviewer between us, but it might as well have been an ocean for all I cared, because the thought of him nearing was terrifying, but God, I wanted to dive into every aspect of him.

I could feel the mic in my hand beginning to slip, and I wondered if the camera was picking up on my shaky fingers. How could time both stretch and contract at the same time? How could the world spin and stop on its axis in the flash of a heartbeat? There he was, standing only a few feet away, and I was next–and he would be mine for a few minutes.

The closer he got, the more the noise of the premiere seemed to fade into a distant hum, as an eager pulse raced under my skin, blood rushing to my ears, my heart pounding so hard that I could feel it in my throat. It was all happening so quickly, a whirlwind of thoughts crashing over me while I talked at the camera, me playing my part. Still, my mind was only on him, the moment playing out like a fucking fever dream–the haze of his presence was pulling me under. I have no control, because it's him, he's my person, and I know with every fiber of my being that I have to have him in my life, that I could not go another moment without him.

It was that fucking gravitational pull that seemed to break all the rules the moment our worlds collided. The feeling was surreal as my mind tried to fill the gaps, the gaps of time when he was merely a collection of memories pieced together–Fragments of conversations, glances stolen from across the room, the cadence of his voice, now a script written across my bones, and this is terrifying, my whole body tremebling, and I risk a glance at Annie who gives me a slight nod–and I know I need to pull it together.

When my eyes dart back to Harry, his eyes find mine across that impossibly short distance. Something thrums between us humming over my flesh, like my body is trying to recall all those late-night conversations, all those whispered confessions over FaceTime—they suddenly feel like nothing compared to his actual presence, and the air that floods my lungs is thick, growing heavy, making it harder to breathe, crushing me as if the universe itself was trying to condense every memory into this single moment.

Because I swear I rehearsed this meeting a thousand times in my head, trying to think of the perfect lines, standing in front of the mirror practicing a casual smile, one that wouldn't give me away, but now my mind is blank, wiped clean by the reality of him. This was Harry, actually Harry, not just a voice through my phone or a face on my screen, and his smile—dammit, that smile—there it is, curving slowly, private like it's just for me, like we don't have thousands of eyes on us right now, like the world hasn't been waiting for this very moment.

And then he closes the space between us, two heartbeats of time becoming one. And then I remember I have to speak, have to somehow function like a normal human being when everything inside me is pure, fucking chaos.

"Hi," I whisper into the mic, dazed in a giddy fit of panic, and I can feel the muscles in my cheeks stretching.

Then he's smiling, matching my energy, because I can tell he's just as taken, but he had already warned me this morning that he knew he wouldn't have any control, and when I hand him his mic, our fingers brush, making my whole body tingle. Then my eyes dart to the fucking ground like an idiot, giving myself away entirely because I cannot stop smiling to save my life, and then I look into the camera, to seal the deal, and I kid you not Annie snaps her fingers and I have to reel it in.

"Hi," is all he says, and we share a glance, a tiny sliver of time that is ours. It is both terrifying and exhilarating, and I wonder if this is the closest to magic I'll ever get because the man has me under a spell, and I am bound to him.

"Your dress is extraordinary. You look stunning. That's all the crowd could talk about back there, and honestly, I couldn't agree more." He gushes, and I definitely blush. I can feel the heat rushing to my face.

"You don't look half bad yourself, are you wearing Gucci?" As Harry looks down to peek at his suit, he rubs a hand down his torso, and my eyes snag on his ring-clad fingers.

"Yes, yes, Gucci has so kindly taken care of me this evening..." He confirms, but I just figured out my next angle, so I take it.

"Okay, so I've only ever heard about the rings, but it's different seeing them in person. Can we get a little view for the camera?"

Then, I spread my fingers out in front of me to urge him to do the same, and he does, switching hands with his microphone to give us a view of each hand. When my eyes sweep to my own hand, my fingers are trembling, and I have to stretch them, each finger splaying wide. Then my eyes flick to his for the briefest second, and suddenly, there's a sense of relief that washes over me.

Looking back on that red carpet interview now, I realize I was the one who hard-launched us before we even had a chance to figure it out, but that's for another day, because I wasn't even thinking, I was just doing it, grabbing her outstretched hand on full display for the world. Her perfect, delicate hand shaking before me, making my heart drop to my stomach. I wanted to take the pressure off the moment–I wanted to touch her and let her know that it was okay, that it was just us, just me and her, nobody else.

"I didn't realize you were a ring, girly," I laughed, taking her hand in mine, and it wasn't true, I knew this about her, after all I had seen every image of her I could ever find, now cataloged in my mind like a flipbook, moving through my minds eye every time her name is mentioned. I had seen every ring that had been on her finger on screen, but there was only one that I ever wanted to call mine, and in that split second, it changed our whole reality.

"I love this one..." I tell her, swiping my finger down the smooth stone of her ring. The one from the photoshoot, the one that caught my eye before, the one that had me in a daze, the one that reminded me of a bumblebee perched on her finger–a constant thought buzzing around my ear every time I saw it.

She seemed to never take it off, always on her index finger like an extension of her flesh–she had become the honey bee of my world, her presence dripping like honey before me, so close I could taste the sweet scent of her perfume, like wildflowers with a hint of vanilla, warm like basking in the glow of the sun.

"It's my favorite ring," she says, her voice distant as we both gaze down at the ring between my fingers, ready to wiggle it off.

Then the interview becomes a blur of motions as soon as I say, "I'll trade you?"

And when she peers up at me, a slow smile spreads on her face, and it's like the crowd, the cameras, all the noise dissolves into white noise, and I'm sinking, a peculiar kind of drowning–willingly letting myself float into her essence, the very being of her existence, moving between my fingers like water through a slow moving stream. It was like nothing I could explain; it was everything all at once. It was only her real and solid after existing for so long as pixels on a screen, only a lush voice in my ear.

I knew I had to keep my composure, and we played out our bit accordingly, each moment carefully constructed, holding a sense of calm for the public even though we both knew what was happening beneath the surface. "Pick any ring..." I nudge her, holding out my hand, and her eyes flit over each one.

And with each second that passed, that careful composure threatened to crack, my practiced smile nearly coming undone. Every second was me fighting the urge to reach out to her, to collapse the space between us, that paper-thin veil crafted to keep us both in check. "Okay, so you're like serious—Harry Styles is offering me a ring y'all–" she joked, playing up the camera.

She saved us both that day, her professionalism unwavering, even though I could see it in her eyes, "I like the teddy bears in this one," she tells me, pointing to my Grateful Dead ring.

"Take it...it's yours..." I push ahead of myself, and she laughs, but my heart is racing out of control, and I know I'm giving myself away, completely–my want a desperate need aching inside me.

Then she slides the stone ring off her finger and looks up at me, and I'm holding my breath as she smooths the smile from her red-painted lips. "This is the first piece of jewelry I've ever bought myself," she explains, biting her lower lip.

"I promise to take care of it...which ring did you choose?" I ask, calmer this time, knowing that she's going to do it, give me a tiny piece of her to take with me, and I know it will be the only thing that will get me through this night, keep me sane when the distance has to stretch between us again.

As we both peer down, the world around us falls away. It's like time seems to stretch into something tangible between us, a charge building as the possibilities hum at the tips of our fingers so close that they're almost touching—a tender moment that's ours and ours alone as Shiloh's eyes trace each ring on my hand, and then my eyes flick to her face, watching as she smoothes those perfect lips together.

"That's time, guys!" Someone shouts out, but it's faint. When Shiloh's eyes meet mine, there's a moment of understanding, unspoken and clear—suddenly, this is just jewelry; it's about the sense of belonging we both seem to crave. It's a reminder that even when the cameras stop rolling and we have to return to our separate lives, something will stay with her, with me.

Another tether, a reason to come back.

For a breath, neither of us moves, caught in this fragile moment, aware of every camera documenting this sacred exchange, but suddenly unable to muster the will to care. How strange that such an intimate gesture could happen under the harsh glare of a spotlight, the world watching, speculating, already hungry for whatever narrative they were going to spin from these seconds.

Yet in that moment I didn't give a single fuck.

"Harry—Shiloh--" Annie's voice cuts through, professional but gentle. "We need to keep moving."

Then Shiloh taps the silver band of dancing bears on my finger, and I slip it off with a smile, pushing it onto her finger. All the while, Shiloh's eyes never leave my face, and when I glance up, she's smiling.

"That's time, guys!" Someone shouts again, roaring the world back in motion around us, and I nod, my eyes locked on Shiloh's face as something unfinished lingers between us.

When I reach out an empty hand, she drops her ring in my palm. "I'll take care of it," I promise her, leaning in to whisper in her ear, "Until later..." I finish trying to move past her, and ever so slightly, she tugs on the sleeve of my jacket, and this time, when I meet her eyes again, her face is only inches away, and as I move away, her eyes never leave mine.

She doesn't say a word, just stares back at me, her big green eyes glazed over with a look of wonderment, a dazed smile playing at her lips, and I wink, pushing the mic into her hand, right before I turn away.

And when glance back over my shoulder, Olivia is filling the empty space in front of Shiloh, and my heart drops. 

A/N: Man, the slow burn almost feels worth it. Now the ball is rolling, friends! Can't wait! Tag List is always open for future updates. Let me know in the comments! So sorry for the crazy long delay on this one guys, but we're back, for good, seeing this one through, so please put your faith in me and jump back in. It will be fun I promise!!

LET'S TALK ABOUT IT: FINALLY they've come face to face! it could only go up from here, right?

->chat with me<-

Tag List: @howling-wolf97 @sassamanda77 @babegoalsreads @palmettogal508 @indierockgirrl @lizsogolden @sexymfharriet @pologoonies @amateurduck

All Chapters Here <-

[driftingballoons]

Hey man good for you

[laurrelise]

prove me wrong: tua s4 was a giant aidan gallagher thirst trap written and created by yours truly steve blackman

[novelconcepts]

We used to be a society. HQ fan galleries. Screencaps of every frame of every single project. Promo and photoshoot images at qualities that would rupture a caveman’s brain.

Now I’m out here taking precision screencaps on my phone of Tumblr gifs, praying like hell they’ll be crisp enough to use as drawing reference.

[giddlygoat]

being adhd is crazy ill spend all day worrying that i’ve forgotten something, triple checking my calendar and my messages to make sure i haven’t missed an appointment or left someone hanging, and it still happens anyway. incredible

[feralsneeze]

Not sneeze just mental health rambling in the tags

[danielnelsen]

there’s so much i wanna do this week/month/etc but i’m just too sick, i have no energy, i can’t sleep, i’m constantly nauseous and headachey and on the verge of a migraine, i’m stressed and irritable and impatient and panicky…….how tf did i survive nearly 5 years of high school untreated if i can’t even manage this when i don’t have any major obligations rn

[no1ryomafan]

Doing my damnest to not be the most pettiest bitch imaginable right now especially because no one has said anything recently to fucking provoke this and I just woke up out of a not so good sleep so that’s probably a indicator I shouldn’t speak BUT:

Can I just say as much as I try to respect peoples preferences I genuinely get annoyed by the people who specifically dislike ZX for “not being mega man enough” or actually criticizing the Toku aspect when MEGA MAN WAS ALWAYS TOKU INSPIRED.

I genuinely don’t wanna come off as a elitist who knows more then anyone else-this fandom has dealt with enough people like that-and I know why what inspired mega man only appeals to me but also even if it was also confirmed in a single interview it’s actually kinda baffling how people overlook the clear toku influence this series had since day 1. ZX is not that weird for making this aspect more apparent and if anything is more so bracing the roots of mega man in its own unique way.

Also in general the take of “this isn’t like the original” is so dumb to me applied to a series like mega man because GASP how dare something tries to be different but in a way that also still stays true to elements of the series! The horrrrror!

Like do you realize how no fun allowed you sound.

[jamiesfootball]

Writing update thing for the post season fic-

Also light spoilers? Maybe?

Since the fic is 100% in Roy’s POV there are definite limitations on how much Roy knows vs how much is going on with people behind the scenes. Especially with Jamie, who spends the first portion of the fic working himself up to confronting his dad, without Roy’s knowledge. Hence, I’ve been keeping notes on what’s going on behind the scenes with Jamie through the chapters.

Boy oh boy there is a very sad fic happening just out of view.

Anyways fuck Jamie’s dad

[queenretcon]

the amount of people who don’t get what made the original blue & gold dynamic so good is such a bummer, man. like comic writers do it and fans do it. it sucks seeing this give-and-take relationship between equals where they bumped heads over their different ideas of what’s best but usually fought most over wanting to feel seen and and loved and respected by the other

constantly get boiled down to ‘wacky idiot and his minder’

[sunriseverse]

i swear every time i see one specific white danmei youtuber i instantly get a headache. i’m sure they’re a fine person but unfortunately their repeated egregious pronunciation errors make me want to gnaw my arm off.

[roaringroa]

oh shit just noticed the only boy i’ve ever been into and who made me question for a long time about being lesbian or bi is liking a suspicious amount of wlw posts on twitter…

👀👀👀👀

…egg?

[conshirtoe]

Sorry to complain but wow I am wide awake at 6am thinking about all I have to do bc uhhh I have so much to do!!!