#and now i am getting compliments out of the blue. so proud of myself

[worldofgoo]

wen people like my dragons ☺️

[kenniecrazyface]

HUGE Venting below cut just fyi. (This is mostly for me to try and write my thoughts out)

⚠️ALSO please don’t engage; I’m not trying to seek validation. Again, this is basically journaling. Sometimes, you just wanna put something out there to be heard, not responded to, ya know?❤️‍🩹

This is hilarious since my main thing is just “funny random” shitposts lmao.

I am a failure. I am below EVERYBODY else. I always make sure to remind myself every morning I wake up, and every hour of the day.

So much to say but I’m not good at writing stuff. Ig what’s bothering me right now is that things are suddenly just FLOPPING on Twitter. Idk if it’s because people are migrating to blue sky, the algorithm, or what.

(And the thing is, I am AWARE of the fact that it’s dumb to base your self worth on “internet points and likes”. But my whole life has ALWAYS been about numbers; weather it be OCD, getting the right number on the scale when I was at the peak of my Ed, or followers/likes.)

I know I make a ton of just, shitpost stuff, but sometimes I WANT to at least try and make something actually meaningful. But everytime I do, nobody cares about it. Maybe I’m damned to only be the “funny person” It definitely tells me that I am the absolute bottom of the barrel, and I am instantly humbled. Feeling even a little bit proud of myself, or thinking something I made looks ok feels WRONG. I am NOT talented. I am NOWHERE near as good as actual artists, and I never will be. I am unworthy. Maybe I’m destined to fail. What did I do wrong to never be able to taste success? At least I know that my reward at the end will be great.

I put a lot of time into it even if it doesn’t look like it. Hell, even the shitposts can take hours sometimes. ADHD is hell, and I believe it’s gotten worse as time goes on. (I DO try to get help for these things btw, but I can’t trust therapists) I see BEAUTIFUL masterpieces people make, and they say “oh this took 30 mins!” And I feel dreadful. I used to be able to do that, but idk what changed. Then all I can do is degrade myself to the point of panic attacks or tears.

Drawing is like, my only “talent” if you can call it that. That’s why even if I want to, I can’t bring myself to give up on it. I WANT to be good at it so bad. People compliment sometimes, but I know it’s fake. There’s no way I can be “good” at this. But I can’t even tell if I’m good or not. My brain distorts my art the same way it does to my body in the mirror. The only thing I have to gauge it is those damn numbers.

It seems like ALL hate i have for anything, I direct back at myself. If something bad happened to me, I definitely deserved it for SOME reason.

I may be a lost cause, but at least I can try and bring other people up. And that’s what I do. That’s why I never like sharing these bad thoughts, I never want to hurt anyone. I don’t want ANYBODY pitying me. I’ve been told I’ve been a huge help sometimes, but it’s so hard to accept that ANYTHING good can come from ME.

Maybe things will change someday. The world feels hopeless in so many ways rn. But if anyone is reading this, I promise things will be amazing for you. You have potential and a bright future ahead of you. And I envy you for that. God bless.❤️❤️❤️

[rustingcat]

tagged by @inkedroplets who tagged me in a few things now, and I forgot to answer some of them. Shame on me, but thanks for the tag, darling:)

1. What sort of content do you create, and what is the thing you’ve made that you’re most proud of?

I started with art, then began writing, then started animating, and recently uploaded a fanvid 😅

I'm proud of them all because they are all part of the progress 😌

2. What fandom(s) do you create for?

Supergirl. I'm counting my Sadie/Saskia vid as supercorp.

3. What is your current favourite ship (or brotp if you prefer), and how controversial is it?

Supercorp. And apparently a lot of people don't like them because they hated supergirl? (At least according to tumblr tags in polls. But those people also accuse them of being too straight...)

4. For your answer to question 3, are they canon?

They are in my heart. Also, I feel that their last conversation was as close to canon as they could get.

5. What was your first fandom, and how old were you?

I was deep into Harry Potter for a long while in my life. That's what got me into fanfiction and tumblr. I still have a sweet spot for what it represented to me in my childhood and the stuff I took away from it despite the actions of some extreme lady.

6. What is your most unhinged fandom creation to date?

My Twilight Au fic 🤣

Was written as a parody, but somehow ended up being way too wholesome.

The power of pasta is my one crack fic, so there's also that.

7. Do you remember what started you off creating fandom content, and if so, what was it?

I was an avid consumer for years, but it was all thanks to the Supergirl fandom that I dared to try and create something. I was in the process of coming out and accepting myself for who I am, which, despite being in a very open and accepting environment and family, was really hard on me. Both the show, and especially the fandom, were what helped me not only to come out but also to see it in a positive light. It made me understand the meaning of pride, and I am forever grateful for that. That's why I decided to dedicate my time to creating stuff myself as thanks to this amazing community and to do my best to keep it active.♥️

8. Do you let people you know in real life see your fandom creations?

Some, yes. I have a few friends who know I write, but had not read any of my stuff. I have a few I share my art with, though.

9. How do you feel about fanworks of fanworks? Has anyone ever made something based on a thing you made?

Someone wrote a fic based on my art a while ago, and I'm still excited about it!

10. What feeling do you most often try to evoke with your creations?

Depends on the content. Each piece has its own purpose. I try to aim for fluff, but I've been told I accidentally write a lot of angst... oops?

11. Has someone ever paid your work a compliment (in any form) that has stuck with you, and what was it?

I'm always excited when fandom friends tell me they like my stuff. Or just anyone in general. It just warms my heart.

12. What’s your favourite thing someone else has made that you’ve seen in the last 24 hours (and link it if you can find it again!)

Have you read the most recent space log update? It's pretty cool...

13. Give a small sneak preview of something you’re working on right now (eg a couple of sentences of fic from a WIP, a gif set theme, a small piece of a larger picture, whatever you feel happy to share)

"Alex, you're saying that as if we're not literally standing at the entrance of a school for fairies." Kara said as she rested her hand on the handle of her large blue suitcase.

"Fair point."

"It is ridiculous, isn't it? Like, fairy collage, it just sounds so…"

"Bizarre?" Alex raised an eyebrow as a small chuckle escaped her lips.

Kara sheepishly nodded.

"Well, yes. Very. But that's our lives now, I suppose," Alex shrugged and shoved her hands in her jeans's pockets.

"You mean my life. You're going to badass school for ass kicking," Kara teased her sister.

Because apparently I'm not done making AUs based on questionable IPs.

And a bit of my card game AU:

Lena was the one to drag Andea to sneak out of school for a change. Only unlike her best friend, Lena didn't drag her out to a party or to drink alcohol, but instead to the local game shop where she could learn more about that mysterious game. Andrea wasn't as excited as her, but reluctantly agreed (if only to get out of trigonometry class). Fight for Justice, while being a bit too cheesy, Lena couldn't deny the strange allure of the name. She was fascinated to learn the different ways the game could change from moment to moment, the various objectives one can approach to win the game, and she couldn't help but absolutely adore the art on each and every card.

14. Have you ever seen/read anything made by the person who tagged you? If so, what was it and what was your favourite thing about it? (pick a favourite if there are several)

Rich girl with issues is a masterpiece, and you should all go read it!

15. Do you leave comments on fandom works, and if so how would you describe your comment style?

I try to always comment, and especially on stuff I like. I don't think I have a specific style tho😅

16. How many works in progress do you currently have? Will you finish them all?

I have about 12 that I actively started, but more that are in the concept phase. Ideally, I'll finish them all eventually.

17. what’s the longest it’s ever taken you to finish a fandom project?

It's been almost 2 years since I started The Art Of The Game. I'm close to the end, but it's been a while...

18. Describe the thing you made most recently in a way that is technically true, but also completely misleading. Link the thing if it’s published!

The hottest new trailer for the film we all have been waiting for;)

19. Do you ever engage with fanworks for a fandom you’re not in? Which one(s) and how did you get into it?

I feel like a foreigner when I see stuff from other fandoms, and I usually don't know enough about it to interact with it.

20. Recommend a fan work from your fandom to your followers

@awaitingrain has some really amazing artwork with adorable chibi designs! I'd recommend checking out her stuff!

Suggested tag list, but there are no rules here, follow your heart.

@eqt-95 @fazedlight @autisticlenaluthor @snowydragonscave @missluthorwillseeyounow @luthordamnvers have fun;)

[a-teacup-of-golden-cracks]

tw this is a trauma post but it's also a narrative I'm proud of. Suicide and self harm (mental and physical) will be mentioned.

To help those who aren't me understand, I think in part in references since it is both easier and more fun than creating original thoughts.

(1): reference to the videogame Omori

(2): reference to the movie The Dark Knight (take a guess as to why I like and relate to the joker)

(3): reference to a song I like (in order, HOPE by NF, Somewhere I Belong by Linkin Park, Love the Subhuman Self by AISHA, Arc System Works, and Jamison Boaz)

(4): a random saying I heard and enjoyed

“No one knows what it's like to be the bad man, to be the sad man behind blue eyes. No one knows what it's like to be hated, to be fated to telling only lies”

“Behind blue eyes” by The Who

Welcome to the nonsensical abyss of my mind, you've been here as long as you can remember (1). By reading this you're getting to see my thoughts without translation. Nothing here makes sense to anyone except me, I make references others rarely understand. But allow me to tell the story of how what you see now came to be. You wanna know how I got these scars (2)? “I spent years of my life holdin’ on to things I never should've kept, full of hatred, years of my life wishin I was someone different looking for some validation.” (3)

Middle school was a special sort of subtle hell for me, it stole things without me noticing. First it was my feeling of impervious safety when a kid laughed at a genuine heartfelt remark I made. Then it was my trust that friends would never betray me and always respect me when they wouldn't stop making jokes at my expense. Slowly, steadily I descended into paranoia and loneliness, and thus my contentedness with life was stolen. The ax forgets yet the tree never does(4).

A secret hidden issue that I only found out this year was that the ADHD meds I needed to take to function may have been causing the paranoia to start with. I still don't know how to feel about that, that all my issues and trauma might stem from something that's not even real.

Once I started high school it became more and more apparent that nobody liked me. At least not for very long. I never learned to function in middle school so I was still struggling with what everyone else already knew and mastered. Giving a compliment and sexual harassment, would you like to know the difference? I would've but nobody told me until after I'd been punished.

Intent vs impact, I never intended to hurt anyone yet my impact was that I did more often than not. So I cut off the things that hurt people, removed them from my mind. Who needs humor? Not me if I can't use it right. Who needs to give compliments? Not me if I can't say it right. Who needs to hug people to show affection because it's your primary love language and you want to show everyone how much you like and appreciate them? …… not me…. if I must…. to not hurt them…

You see where my inner pain starts now? Where the scars in my mind begin? There were two things I could never bear to cut and slice away, my name and my kindness. Most trans people change their names to align more with their gender but I decided no. I am done changing things for other people to accept me more, they never do. My name is Daniel and it's the sum of my entire being. If I am non-binary, or a woman, or some eldritch horror that everyone fears and that has lost every shred of humanity because of the things I've endured, then my name represents all of that. It's not my issue if people make a poor assumption about my name because of what they think it should be.

Maybe I don't even want to be human anymore if all that humans have shown me is hate. All throughout high school it was nothing but hate or dislike shown to me, barely any kindness outside of my family. So I isolated myself from everyone, to avoid those who hated and to not burden my family with my issues. I'd handle it by myself like I always had in the past and I'd be ok.

I was not ok.

I was rageful. I was tearing myself apart more and more and more internally, only my desire to never hurt anyone kept me from tearing the school down brick by brick with all the students inside it. But maybe… could it be I was the exception and the problem? Could it be I'm the one who deserves to hurt for the pain I've caused? Should I hurt myself? And so I tried once, a good solid punch to the forehead that didn't make me feel any better and never tried again.

The pain I deserved wasn't physical, it was mental and so I gave myself infinite mental pain. What an idiot I was for giving that compliment when clearly in retrospect it was sexual harassment, what a dumbass I was for saying that joke, looking back I deserve to lose my entire friend group over it. Maybe I'd be better off if I didn't exist anymore if I caused more harm than good and could never seem to learn or improve. The thoughts I had then… and sometimes still now… it's so hard to remember that looking into the past makes everything obvious in the worst ways possible…

But there was a light eventually, someone who told me all that was wrong. Someone I met online and will never see in person, someone I messed up horribly with and yet she still forgave me. Thank you infinitely June. You showed me that monsters can be good.

So I steeled my resolve and used my rage at myself to look inward and outward and found that I was being mistreated and misunderstood. I shouldn't kill myself to not exist or hurt people because I would improve and I could make others improve. So I stood at the very last meeting in front of the whole school and spoke the truth of my mind with as much respect and rage as I could muster. So much pain and anger and hate and sadness I'd endured and I showed all of it to the entire high school of 300 people.

I've never felt more satisfied in my life than when the headmaster of the school himself asked if there was anything he could do for me and I said no. I've never felt more proud when I met with him two days later and asked for a neurodivergent support group to be created for the middle and high school, and he said yes. Half a year later my brother told me that the headmaster stuck to his word and did more than I asked. I never felt more vindicated than when I was told by my only friend that he'd heard people making school shooter jokes after I stood up and told my story.

And so I started to heal. My humor, I did need that. How could I be happy if I could never make myself laugh? My desire to give joy and be kind, I needed that. How could I not fulfill the purpose in life I'd made for myself? My ability to hug and love and be happy with others, I needed that. Desperately. “I want to heal, I want to feel what I thought was never real, like there was somewhere I belong.”(3) I just needed to find better people who understood. I reconnected with my family and told my pain and tried in every possible way to show how sorry and sad I was for cutting them off. I couldn't stitch the old bits back onto me but maybe I could grow something new. Something I wanted and I loved, for me.

I can never fully heal, that's why you see the holes in my form, but I've incorporated them now, so that they help me as much as they hurt. I carry on and love my subhuman self, accept me for me and go back to being with humans (3). I give them the kindnesses I can but only after I do that for myself. This is the kindness and respect I give to me, the biggest change I made, because I deserve it as much as everyone else. Now close your eyes and you'll leave this dream (1).

“But my dreams, they aren't as empty as my conscience seems to be.”

Behind Blue Eyes by the Who

[finniestoncrane]

Heyo finnie!! Congrats on 1500 I'm so proud of you! I hope you have fun with this event and don't burn yourself out! You deserve nothing but the best! 💚💚

Anywho, I'm here for a blind date..., I've never been on one before but always been interested lol.

So...I know you already know like probably WAY TOO MUCH about me (more than you cared to EVER know lmao)and we're kinda similar hehe BUT I'm gonna try and describe myself for you anyhow lol

I'm a 24 year old woman who is often described as thoughtful, wise, and genuine. If I'm not writing, I'm drawing or vice versa. I'm usually creating or working on something! My interests often vary but they're usually centered around cartoons and comics! I love video games even though depending on the console I'm shit at them but enjoy the concepts and art that goes into them nonetheless! Basically I'm a socially anxious mess of a nerd that's trying her best lmao.

Hope this is decent enough that was really hard🥴😂

💜 blind date 💜 the kitchen is now closed! 🔞minors dni🔞 • masterlist • kofi link • tag: finnie1500 (to follow or to block) a/n: there were so many options i could have picked from ri but i knew in my heart EXACTLY who to send you on a date with💚

"Hello, and welcome to the Vill-Inn! Your date has been here getting things ready. I hope you weren't in the mood for soda and burgers, because he's ordered tiny sandwiches and a pot of tea for the table..."

As you approach your table, your date stands up and takes off his top hat, holding it in both hands in front of him nervously as he introduces himself.

"It's so wonderful to meet you! I'm Jervis."

You can tell he's impressed that he's made it through the whole sentence without stammering, and it's hard not to offer him a warm smile in return for his charming grin, punctuated by his protruding overbite.

He's quick to try and get to know you, but equally forthcoming about himself. And he mentions repeatedly how nice it is to have someone who is so polite and attentive, willing to give him so much attention.

Jervis is also extremely interested in your writing and art, especially taken by how creative you are. Like you have invented worlds to escape into on a whim.

"Why, you could have created as many as six impossible things before breakfast."

And when you broach the subject of Lewis Carroll, he's entranced by your knowledge, how much you know, how bright your eyes are when you talk about it. Which by the way, don't think he hasn't noticed your blonde hair and blue eyes. You'd make a wonderful Alice, truly. And though he wants to compliment you, he really is struggling to find the words.

"You do look marvellous, my dear. But I'm finding it difficult to put it into words. I think I could, if only I knew how to begin."

When you blush at his words, so poetic, so charming, he's completely besotted. Shy, unaware of how magnificent you are? It would be very easy for him to swoop in and claim you as his own.

For what feels like forever, he listens, eyes wide and holding his chest, as your tell him about your love of comics, games, and cartoons. Wonderous, joyous hobbies, escapism with whimsy, something he is familiar with himself.

The wait staff interrupt you though, and you realise that they're cleaning up around you. You wonder how long you've been talking, commenting on how it feels like only a moment you've spent with him. It's silly, but you tell him you hope that you haven't talked too much, or wasted the time to get to know him more as he was listening to you.

"If you knew time as well as I do, or how deeply intrigued by you I am, then you wouldn't talk about wasting it."

[nashdoesstuff]

! welcome to my blog !

BEFORE YOU READ:

I STAND WITH PALESTINE. ZIONISTS, GET OFF MY BLOG.

DNI LIST: queerphobic folk, terfs, supporters of @/calcium-cat, people who use religion as a reason for bigotry, zionists/supporters of israel, racists, nazis/neonazis, aspec exclusionists, islamophobic folk, white supremacists, ableists, pedos/zoos, nsfw blogs [i’m a minor and don’t want to see these, nothing against y’all], bigots, extremist antishippers [e.g y’all that participate in callouts, go to askboxes/comments to yap about why proshipping is wrong], irl folk that i didn’t give auth to see/int w/ my blogs and overall just assholes in general. don’t talk to me please and thank you

i absolutely love shattered dream and i understand that some people don’t like his character but if one of those reasons/the reason why is “he canonically cannot exist!!!!1!” please don’t talk to me lmao. if you know who they are you’ve been digging in the utmv fandom and you should know we’re BUILT on fanon content so. stfu you guys actually make me upset

i’m also cringe asf and i’m quite proud of it, so if you’re here to tell me i’m cringe you’re 100% correct and it’s a compliment <3

greetings! i go by both nash and ashara, and i run this blog! i'm a multi-media creator, who ranges from writing, drawing, and crafting. a lot of people know me for hosting the dream tournament alongside others in the future.

i have an unset post schedule and mostly just reblog, but you'll see me posting original content every now and then!

click on keep reading to know more about me :]

~ ABOUT ME ~

i'm a creator of which specializes in the UTAU community and various other miscellaneous things. you can find a brief description of me under my tag on my blog page, but here i am in detail!

~ my name is nash/ashara. ~ i'm enby and go by they/them pronouns! [i may like pink and dresses and heels and makeup, but that doesn’t do anything to make my gender identity any less important. please don’t invalidate my identity because i depict myself in feminine fashions please and thank you] ~ i'm a proud puertorican and speak both spanish and english. ~ i’m neurodivergent and have an anxiety disorder so if i act strangely i promise it’s nothing against you, just let me know as i just may be panicky </3 ~ my time zone is EST [Eastern Standard Time]. ~ my birthday is on the 27th of october! ~ a proud shattered dream supremacist, i selfship w him and i am self-declared his ultimate fan <3 ~ when i say i love shattered i love them. they’re my entire personality btw. literally the character i wish i could talk to irl btw. [you see them a lot here just warning you now /silly] ~ i have various otps, my main few being shink/dark drink [shattered x ink], bleam/dreamberry [dream x blue/swap], the ineffable husbands, dreamling [morpheus x hob], and kross [killer x cross] ~ i love all alternative genres and rock! although, i’ve been listening to a lot of chappell roan recently :] ~ i have a bit of an addiction to hot chocolate and sweet tea. ~ i’m a debate and theatre kid! ~ i'm an infp! my dominant function is introverted feeling. [Fi] ~ once you get me hooked onto something, you will not know how to get me to shut up. ~ i do not identify as a proshipper, nor do i support ships deemed as ‘proships’, but i will not stand for heavy ship discourse or harass those who do. i will stand up for proshippers getting harassed for shipping what they want to ship. i believe fiction is fiction, and those who wish to express it with proper warnings shouldn’t be harassed by people who don’t like their art/content. fight me. ~ i try to keep my asks open, but if they get out of hand anons will be turned off and/or i'll just close them.

what are my tags?

i typically do not check my tags, but anything i post and/or affiliate myself with you'll find under the tag of my username [#nashdoesstuff] or #nash's shenanigans [this tag is used for my original posts.] i also have my fandom tags! ↳ #nash's ineffable obsession is my good omens tag! [check #good omens, as well] ↳ #nash's spiderverse addiction is my spiderverse tag! ↳ #nash's tremendous tunes is my music tag for anything music related, including artists [like gorillaz, lovejoy, tally hall, etc], musical theatre and more! ↳ my utau tag is #utmv stuffs! ↳ my doctor who tag is #nash’s time in the tardis! for any friend or mutual interactions, look for #friend!! or #mutual!!

if there is any content you want me to see, tag me! [@nashdoesstuff]

do you have any more blogs?

i have my swap!cult au ask blog, @swap-cult-au! for any info on that au or asks for its characters and/or story, head there. i also have an account explicitly for tournaments. this account is @nashdoestournaments. feel free to send asks about any of the tournaments i host there! i have a roleplay blog for some of my characters, which is @nashs-au-rpblog. if you want to learn more about my ocs and characters, head here! my oc vou has a separate ask blog [@ask-vou]! do ask them questions there <3

do you have any characters?

yes i do! i have vou, my main shattered!dream variant and rêve, a positive guardian incarnate who’s apart of a universe me and my pal @/denieatsart share. i also have crescent, or crest, who is my main nightmare variant. i do have more characters of which i plan on publicizing in the future. [p.s., you should totally ask me about them /gen/silly/nf/np] the aforementioned ocs have tags! to look for them on my blog, search “#renevou!shattered”, “#rêve”, and “#crest” or “#crescent”!

oh also i have a main sona. here they are if ya wanna doodle em

aside from characters, i have the primary fic series i’m working on called the doctor and his demonic companion, following a heartbroken crowley becoming the doctor’s companion. the opening fic is yet to be finished, but you can find it on my ao3!

what about the dream tournament?

right now, the dream tournament is on hiatus until i get the motivation to host it again. the dream tournament is an annual event i host. it is a recreational bracket made to determine the best utau dream au of that year. the original one was hosted on this account, but now it had transferred to my tournament account. i answer asks about the original tournament on this account, but otherwise everything goes to the other account.

if you are looking for brackets and results on the first polls, refer to the announcement post. if you are looking for content on the original DT, refer to the Dream Tournament Masterpost, which contains all fan-made content for the event. you can also search the tag #dream tournament to find all content made for the tournament over time!

do you have a discord server?

though i don't have a personal server, i do moderate [with the help of @/consumeroflemoans and other community mods] a small utmv roleplaying server that's open for all to join! the join invite is right here if interested <3

here are my fandoms!

~ undertale mv [utmv] ~ good omens [fuck gaiman!!!] ~ doctor who ~ chappell roan ~ david tennant in general ~ mlp g4, i guess! ~ our flag means death ~ the sandman [fuck gaiman!!!] ~ my ocs? other fandoms i like [inactive but enjoy] ~ ddlc ~ will wood [tapeworm era and post tapeworm era only] ~ maaybbeee fo:e? backburner for now ~ tally hall and its associated projects ~ gorillaz ~ the spiderverse ~ avatar: the last airbender [atla] ~ harry potter [fuck jkr‼️] ~ musicals like hamilton, wicked, heathers, six, bettlejuice, dear evan hansen, mean girls, etc.

i usually don't associate myself with anything aside from what's listed here. please don't request content from me that are from unlisted fandoms.

thanks for slipping by, and enjoy your stay on this chaotic side of tumblr called nash's blog!

last updated 12/1/24

s!dream dividers by @/sister-lucifer. other userboxes except for last 7 not mine

[steddieas-shegoes]

Hey! Once you get this, you have to say five things you like about yourself, publicly. Then you have to send this to ten of your favourite followers. (Only if you want to, of course!❤️)

Sorry it’s taken so long to get to this!!!! @steddiesmuttyseptember has kept me much busier than I planned and I’m over here running low on brain cells by the time I’m done doing what I gotta do for real life 😂

Thank you so much for sending this to me, you know how much I appreciate you and your never-ending support! ♥️ I’ve done this before but I don’t remember what I said so if I’ve said all this before, oh well.

1. My event planning organization on here. I love doing it, and I’d say I’m at least halfway decent at it by now 😂 I like running events that inspire people to write, especially if it’s their first time posting or participating in an event, or if they’ve been struggling and were inspired by a specific prompt.

2. Being the cool mom! I’m not scared to say it! Idk if it’s just because I’m 5-10 years younger than most of Liam’s friend’s moms, or if it’s just because of who I am as a person, but Liam tells me some stories and I’m just amazed. Like I let him doodle on his homework and his hand because he’s 1) a very good artist and 2) not hurting anything and his friend said her mom once took away her tablet for drawing on her hand in pen. Like??? In pen??? That washes off??? Girl be so for real. But anyway, I’m pretty proud of the fact that I let Liam experience being a kid.

3. My sports photography has gotten better this season 😂 I am Liam’s hockey team’s media person (this is not a paid job I’m just dumb as hell and volunteered) and I don’t even have a decent camera. But I do have a basic concept of editing images to make them look like they’re professional. And also the coach hardly plays half the kids so I have to get creative getting pictures of them.

4. I try to put one physical thing on these lists because I’m always very harsh on myself with that stuff, so I’ll say my eyes. They are blue as fuck and it’s my most complimented feature by a long shot. I get the “are those real?” question often. Babe, I’m half blind and if the sun is even slightly out I need sunglasses; They’re real 😂

5. My bang fic! Does this count? I’ve been working on it for so long, it feels like a part of myself at this point 🤣 I’m really proud of it. It’s the first time I’ve put so much work into outlining something, writing something, editing something, etc. The fact that it starts posting Friday feels unreal.

Thank you so much again ♥️

[starscreamuniverse]

MAY AND JUNE 2024 EVENTS

June 15, 2024 Saturday 4:07 A.M. here in QA nakaduty ng night shift while typing this blog entry so ayun, I just want to share here in my blog mga bagay na I have experienced this May and June 2024, Last May 20, 2024, I can’t forget this because it boost my confidence ,never in my thoughts I will receive this kind of compliments from a foreigner and its a Lady okay hehe, So galing akong evening shift then the next day is morning duty, so 2 hours lang tulog ko, I am assisting this lady at work and 3 sila, and out of the blue she just asked what’s my weight? Sabi ko mga ganito, medyo surprised ako nun, then she said Good daw and then pinakamalupit na sinabi niya is You’re so Beautiful , like insist niya talaga. Then yung may kasama niya Happy lang while talking to me, then ang respond ko na lang ehh You’re Beautiful also. After nun, It made my day talaga kahit puyat ako, Usually Cute lang ang compliments na narereceived ko so this is something new to me, coming from a perspective of a stranger. Of course, I view myself pretty or beautiful as form of my Self-Love, pero iba ang feeling pag random, out of the blue they will say it to you without me trying. Kaya to this Lady, Thank you : ) You Brightened up My Day that time : ) Kileg in a different perspective.

May 22, 2024 ayun after 3 yrs removed na din si Braces ko and yung old Jocket Crown ko na dalawang tooth yun upgraded ko na sa Zirconium Crown, of course sponsored by ME : )

May 25, 2024, nagconsult ako Kay Doc Fathima, for my Impacted Wisdom tooth. Sabi ni Doc, I look young daw hehe : )

June 02, 2024, nakuha ko na yung clear retainer ko : )

June 06, 2024, 3 days sick-leave Ito, This is the day ng wisdom tooth extraction, 1hr and 30mins tinagal ng procedure. Grabe yung 3days na ito, as in buti na lang tapos na, hirap na hirap ako kumain at mag-open ng mouth. Tapos need na soft-diet lang. Yung 1st day ko ay nag-Laundry pa ako nun. Binuhat ko pa yun from 1st floor to 3rd floor kahit bagong bunot ako nun. I am proud of myself na I am able to take good care of ME, nakaready naman lahat ng need ko before the surgery like the antibiotic, pain killer at mouthwash, pati food na din, like banana, yogurt and ice-cream.

June 07, 2024, nag-order ako online ng Steam Iron dahil yung 6 yrs Kong Sharp Steam Iron ay nag-retire na, Thank you Sharp for being there for me : ) June 06, ng gabi gusto ko sana mamalantsa nun, then while trying to plug Hindi na siya gumagana. So madaling araw browse browse na ako, thinking anong brand bibilhin ko, so ayun Philips brand nabili ko look alike ni Sharp Iron. I am just so proud and happy for myself for taking the decision na bumili na lang ng bago agad kaysa mag-msg ako and mang-Hiram, may mahihiraman naman ako but I don’t know why, It’s me, being Independent mindset kicking in, na ayaw ko mag-rely ganun and mang-bother ng iba. When I Decided to order the next day, I feel so matured in a way : ) Like a I feel na I choose the right decision ganun. No need to bother people for that thing :) and the fact na I am still in Pain and swollen, kasi kakaremoved lang ng wisdom tooth ko nun.

June 13, 2024 Thursday, so ayun after a week may follow-up consultation ako Kay Doc Fathima, Pang-night shift ako nito, so 6pm umalis na ako house then punta clinic, I dressed up casually lang, but I think may dating yung get-up ko, kasi pag-pasok ko pa lang sa reception inassist agad ako, then Mabilis na check-in , then Paalis na ako nun, I think Pinag-kwentuhan Nila ako ang narinig ko lang is para siyang, so I don’t know anong karugtong nun, hopefully positive naman, but I think it’s positive. So Ayun, nakita na ni Doc ang healing ng wisdom tooth surgery ko, may konting swelling pa, then may dalawang holes sa gums ko now, but it will take 4 weeks to close, new tissue will form. Then ayun, hirap ako mag-open ng mouth like small opening lang, shock si Doctora, tinuruan niya ako mouth exercise para maopen ko widely yung mouth ko. Masakit siya kahapon, but now okay na, hirap na hirap ako i-brush yung tongue ko before kasi di ko maopen yung mouth ko kasi masakit and maga. Sabi nga ni Doc if ever napabayaan ko Ito, ganito na daw forever buti na lang may follow up consultation ako, then sa 7days ko nastock ung food sa hole ng gums. Binigyan naman ako instruction ni Doc like sa right lang ang bite pag kakain. Then irrigate ko using syringe then mouthwash and brushing na din. Basta overall consultation and experience ko kay Doc Fathima as a patient, 10/10, nagagalingan ako Kay Doc, kasi well explained niya regarding sa case ko, then mag-advice pa siya sa akin how to gain weight keme, sinasabi nga niya sa akin Hindi ko line Ito pero, eat daw ako mga egg ganun, eat more daw eklat. Now na naiintindihan ko na Lord Kaya that time na Hindi matuloy tuloy sa Pinas itong wisdom tooth extraction ko 2 yrs ago, Kay Doc Fathima pala talaga ako nakadestined magpa-bunot at covered pa ng Insurance at may Sick leave pa. Unlike if natuloy sa Pinas, consume yung vacation leave ko plus personal expenses pa siya. Galing talaga ni Lord : )

Then after ng check-up Kay Doc, punta ako grocery, I am so happy lang for myself kasi yung laman ng grocery cart ko Hindi na pero junk food, I am really trying to be healthy and get healthy talaga. For ME, MYSELF, SELF-LOVE : )

So ayun, finally nailabas ko na din mga thoughts ko in my head, I feel so satisfied right now, and I must admit, for the past 6yrs na nandito ako sa QA now ko lang naeenjoy yung SOLO Lifestyle ko, Ewan ko, basta nabibili ko naman mga needs ko and sometimes wants din. I will make a separate post about it hehe, So ayun, Thank you Lord, for all the blessings : )

[youngcroissantturkeyworribler]

Today is my B-Day. I'm 25 now. A whole quarter. A quarter of a century.

Honestly, I have nothing to show for it. I'm just a depressed layabout with nothing going. Not finance wise, not relationship wise, not even a real life friend.

I've always somehow cried during my birthday, never in a good way and I happened on this one too, when I thought I was getting over it; not looking forward or dreading it. Just accepting that it's going to happen. The day is almost over with 1 hour and 15 minutes left of it.

I did nothing like always, I didn't do the tasks I set up for myself. My parents are sweet, mom made me one of my favorite home-cooked meal and my dad got me a small chocolate cake with chocolate icing and Blue Bell ice cream. We planned to actually celebrate my birthday this upcoming weekend. My two older siblings called me, wishing me a happy birthday including my niece and younger cousin. It was going good.

I happened to come across a snippet of an episode of The Office right when I started to ask myself, "Why do I feel this way about myself? My parents, my family, my past friends, gifts and school? Why? I have their love. Why is that not enough for me? What is wrong with me? It not because I'm ungrateful. I know that the love is there, but why am I not feeling it. I feel like part of it has to do with imposter syndrome, but that not the only thing. That it not the main reason behind all of this even from a very young age when I was in elementary. What is it?"

Pam from The Office had a gallery and is very anxious about it and is her boss comes in and compliments her for it and even ask her about the pricing for her work.

"I'm really proud of you."

Pam hugs her boss and says, "Thank you."

It fucking had me crying. It fucking made sense. It all clicked into fucking place.

PRAISE. PRAISE. PRAISE. PRAISE. PRAISE.

That's what it was. That is what it always has been. Nothing else. Down to even my subconscious mind. That is what it is.

I needed the good grade in elementary and to be a good friend to my friends, all for praises and inclusion. I'm a good kid with good friends. When we moved over 30 minutes away from school and friends. Transferring to two different middle schools and high schools. New sets of friends and teachers. I had to be on top of my grades even more no excuses and be an even better friend to my friends cause I was going to leave them whither I wanted that or not. But it was always for grades and praising by teachers, parents, even strangers.

I was so proud to find out I was going to the Early College Academy at South Ridge for my high school years. I was going to get an accociates degree before I get my high school diploma. I am smart. So why was I fucking it up. Why was I on academic suspension and left at the end of my sophomore to go to a regular high school with now two nervous breakdowns? Why?

The friends I did made in high school didn't stay for more than a school year much less being one outside of the classroom. New grade new friends. New grade new classmates. No school and no friends. For the longest time I had boxes of my stuff packed up ready for us to move again.

Nowhere feels like home. Not even my own skin and body. I lost it all. I lose. It's done and over with no satisfaction. No praise.

It's over my birthday has passed with me crying. 7 years I've been out of school with nothing to show for it but an average high school diploma, no friends to call, just another weirdo hermet looking for something that isn't there. Was never there to begin with.

Without praises I lose myself. I add facts into conversations, subconsciously looking for praise. That I am good. I'm a good student, child, sibling, aunt, cousin, patient. I knew I stayed away from relationships of the romantic kind for fear of my depression, ptsd, adhd, looks, trauma, and attachment issues. Who would want to date me. Why would I want anyone to go on and deal with the process of being in a relationship with me. I am a romantic because that's what gets the relationship going and that what keeps me to myself too. That's my escapism is fantasy, x reader, x s/I because there's is no one who in a sound mind would want me.

I will never be an option to anyone, not even I would choose me.

I'm tired of changing or hiding myself for praises.

I don't know who I am.

I don't know what I want.

I am tired of fixing shit people have done to me to find some type of healing.

I tired of being a fool to hope or of love.

I tired of being scared of others.

I am tired of myself.

And it was my birthday.

[sometimesanalice]

Ameliaaaa! Oh my god, Amelia! Fuck you (affectionately) for this chapter, the words are a bit blurry from all the tears in my eyes, but we shall persist!

You should be SO DAMN PROUD of yourself! This series is a masterpiece! It is so well crafted and perfectly written! Nora's journey and her growth over it is so special! We are so lucky that you've written it and shared it with us! I will never ever get over this story!

If I didn't love you so much, I'd hate you for the emotional havoc you wrecked on me with your prose! You left no crumbs. This chapter is EVERYTHING TO ME.

more for you!

Thanks for the sex, come back anytime. -- pls, the way I hear this in his voice. But also I gave myself a giggle entertaining the thought of her doing that to him and being a menace. The PUPPY DOG EYES could you imagineeeee?! lololol

It’s so simple, really.//She never asks him to leave, and so, Jake stays. -- this is so good because it's so simple, so easy! I love how natural they are with each other, it's SO NEW but also they just want to be around each other because they can now. Like they don't want to burst the perfect little bubble they've found themselves in. I have such a weakness for a gentle love, and I'm a thousand shades of soft over this.

“Can’t ever make it easy on me, can you, Hollywood?” //“Oh,” Nora yawned out. “Not a chance.”- THAT'S MY GIRL, I love how she always is teasing him and making him work for it, and he's just SO GAME.

“Yeah?” Nora smiled. “You must spend a lot of time looking at me.” //“Ever since I saw you, I haven’t wanted to look away.” -- no Ames you can't do this to me, it's too early for the yearning hours! God, he is so soft for her! It makes my heart ache in the best way with how intentional and straightforward and open he is with her. But her teasing him (yet again, alwayyyssssss 🥰), and him just taking every opportunity to lay out all his cards. It's too much for me, I'M JUST A GIRL

“So I’m thinking about going to the farmers market if you want…” and Jake immediately grabs his keys, a horseshoe shaped bottle opener dangling from the keychain. - just me singing: can i go where you goooooooo, can we always be this closeeeeee forever and ever

I could kiss him, she absently realizes. She wouldn’t have to do anything more than turn her head, maybe raise her chin, and she would be kissing him. She can just do that now. -- stooopppppp! My tenderhearted best babe! SHE CAN JUST DO THAT NOW! I love that she doesn't have to hold back anymore, that they know exactly what it means to each other and they get to indulge in the ability to just be with each other in that way now!

This must be the place Jake mentioned on the Fourth, Nora realizes, where he wanted to take her on a date. //She is smiling to herself when Jake opens the blue door for her. -- that man is so GONE for her! Not him mentioning a place and then being determined to take her there! He is so smitten! But also that it's "his" place, and he wants to share it with her. Unbelievably sweet.

She almost got fed up and braided it on the drive here, but all morning, Jake has been playing with the loose strands of blonde hair, absentmindedly reaching over and running it between his fingers on the Coronado Bridge, brushing it back from her face in the market check-out line when Nora’s hands were too full to do it herself. //He’d been doing it in bed too, curling a strand around his finger and complimenting the smell of her shampoo.-- never ever getting over this! I love how much Jake loves her hair. And that he fiddles with it and is always touching it, and probably doesn't realize when he does it sometimes too! Like the gentle affection of it all! It's gilbert tucking anne's hair behind her ear! it's peeta touching the end of katniss' braid! it's alexa losing her damn mind because it's SO SOFT AND TENDER!

He ordered his coffee with cream and sugar and his eggs sunny side up, and Nora snatches up those little shining details like a magpie. She adds them to the picture of him in her mind.//He likes his coffee a little sweet. He likes pancakes. He likes her.-- so I hate crows, but I love their cuter cousin the magpie. and nora greedily collecting all these little pieces of him just makes me swoon and sigh! She's got the pieces of the puzzle, but she wants to put the full thing together! HE LIKES HER! AND SHE LIKES HIM! AND IT REALLY IS JUST THAT EASY!

And Jake’s smile is a little smug, a little knowing. “You like that I like good movies, don’t you? It kinda turns you on.” //“I’m not answering that,” Nora says, which might as well be an answer, and Jake’s grin sharpens.-- I adoredddd this part! I love how he had definitely thought about it because he KNEW it was going to come up and that man was READY to impress her! And he is so cheeky about it! I'm giddy! I am giggling! They are adorable and I am thrivingggggg!

“Oh my god. You’re full of shit.” //“I’m not,” Jake says, amused. /.../ “How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days,” Jake finishes with a grin. He cocks his head. “What can I say? I love McConaughey.” -- G I G G L I N G

smiles, wide and affectionate like he didn’t just spend almost two hours across from her, like he could spend all day looking at her and never get sick of it; nothing about it feels new.-- i am swoooooning how dare you! easy! it's so easy between them! I keep saying it, but it just makes it all the more special and lovely! A GENTLE LOVE I TELL YOU!

It’s all meaningful looks and stolen kisses; late night drives with the windows down, the wind in her hair, his hand on her thigh; rolls of film, not yet developed. It’s something for them, something good. - IT'S SOMETHING FOR THEM, SOMETHING GOOD she's weeping on the floor, i'm crying into my fish mug. THEY HAVE THINGS TO LOOK FORWARD TOO! (i need them looking at the pictures together, I need him getting all soft looking at a picture of her he took, and then he's all pleased with himself when she says she likes the composition)

And when did Nora leave his apartment without her underwear? /Is she wearing underwear now?/She pats her hip under the guise of smoothing out a wrinkle in her sweat shorts. All clear.-- THIS HAD ME CACKLINGGGG! Stop she is so real for that, this was so fucking funny

She felt a certain amount of protectiveness over her 24-year-old self and her weakness for men with big arms and sad eyes. Really, who could blame her? “He was older and hot and sad and – Would you stop laughing at me?” //“Funny,” Bradley repeats flatly. //Her lips twitch. “He asked if I’d always been passionate about volunteering with the elderly.” -- I also am very protective over her 24-year-old self, and I also wouldn't have been able to resist a man with big arms and sad cow eyes! But this whole conversation in the kitchen is absolutely one of my favorite bits, it's so fucking funny how amused Jake is over it and how huffy my little drama king gets over the fact that Jake isn't bothered. VOLUNTEERING WITH THE ELDERLY PLSSSS! Roast rooster is on the menu tonight, lol.

She’s starting to realize Jake might be one of her favorites too.//She motions him closer, crooking her finger, and Jake bends indulgently, eyes bright.-- i'm too delicate. INDULGENTLYYYYY! just me screaming giddily into a pillow. it's so sweet.

“Slim to none,” Jake replies helpfully. “He’s probably already told Phoenix by now.” - LMAO

“And I’m smiling because as much as I’ve liked having you all to myself these past few weeks…” A deliberate kiss against the column of her throat as Jake slides his palm up the same path. A breathy sigh. “... I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t be happy to not have to sneak around anymore. Now, I’ll be able to kiss you anytime I want.” -- not him coming with the Sweet Home Alabama quote, lol. But again, he is so happy to be hers! He's been playing it cool but he knows how lucky he is, he wants everyone else to know it now too! SO SMITTEN! I JUST LOVE HIM!

“I’m sorry, Nora, I should’ve knocked,” Bob says, his shoulders rounded, contrite. “And I’m sorry I immediately told Phoenix.” A pause, and Bob’s cheeks redden a little. “And Fanboy and Payback and also, Rooster and Coyote, but both of them already knew.” -- PLS THIS MAN! The "ands" absolutely SENT me! hahahahaha

A wrinkle between her brows, Natasha asks, “Is it pretty casual? Or are you guys like, dating now?” //“No,” Nora answers while at the exact same time, Jake calls, “Yes.” /.../ She wrinkles her nose but doesn’t correct him, and Jake grins, like he’s won something.-- bless her for still trying, but like, LOL MISS MA'AM! We all know you're just as gone for him too! His steady persistence is endlessly hot of him. He knew what he wanted and played the long game, never put pressure on her but always showed up for her! THAT'S HOW YOU GET THE GIRL

A sharp sense of deja vu washes over her as Nora finds herself at the front of the room once again, eight weeks older. She’s not looking out on a group of half-acquaintances, practical strangers, watching her with caution and curiosity. These are her friends. She sees nothing but excitement and anticipation in their eyes.-- OH THE WAY MY HEART ABSOLUTELY BURST FOR HER!! Those are her people! Those are her friends! She has a place with them! Her life has been so transitional! Temporary homes, temporary friends. I love the little roots she's been putting down, even if she didn't realize, like her vase and the flowers! But the bonds with these people are also things that have been growing, and I'm so soft over it! THE GROWTH!! She was feeling so alone, and now she's not anymore and oh look i'm crying again...

On the screen, Jake – Lieutenant Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin, reads the lower-third – flashes a 1000-watt smile to the side of the camera, and Nora smiles despite herself. He was looking at her. She remembers it so vividly, sitting there, pretending not to be charmed by him, pretending not to want him.-- THIS BIT THIS BIT! I love the Top Gun Documentary: Nora's Version has that moment between them. I said it on the early draft, but I'll say it again. I love that the final cut will be out of her hands, but I adore that in her edit that she included a special moment that is meaningful for only the two of them.

Then again, with her red lips and her Grace Kelly curls, Charlie always looks pretty sophisticated. -- CHARLIE!

She opened her wet eyes, and Captain Mitchell had his hand on Jake’s shoulder, but Jake was looking at her, concern plain on his face, his lips downturned. //She gave him a watery smile, and Jake’s shoulders visibly relaxed.//He was still the last one out of the room. -- this man. THIS MAN! Oh he's a gonerrrrrr! But he's so sweet for this! He was definitely struggling holding back, I know he wanted to wrap her up in a hug. A feat of willpower on his part to hold himself back, lol

“You play football?” Charlie asks, skeptical and amused.//“I read.” //“Ah. Of course. Anything good?” --plssss she is me

She does, however, gloss over a few crucial details about Jake, as is her right as guaranteed by the Fifth amendment. She’s also not quite sure how to explain it herself. -- LOLOLOLOLOLOOL, but also my sweet girl!! She just feels SO MUCH

“I didn’t say give up,” Charlie sighs, and it brings Nora back to her teen years when Charlie would accuse her of being difficult on purpose. “I said quit.” //“They feel like the same thing.” //“They’re not.” -- I loved everything about the Nora and Charlie chat! How supported she was, and how validating! Like Nora knew what she needed, but knowing that her favorite person supported that for her too made me all kinds of tender.

Or like the 21-year-old who ordered an Old Fashioned for her first legal drink because Charlie used to drink them at home and hated it so much that Nora wouldn’t drink another for four more years. //Like all Nora ever wants to be is someone that Charlie can be proud of.-- STOOOOOPPPPP I CANNOT I AM TOO DELICATE. I need to hug her! Big hearted, tenderhearted babe.

“Fail with your whole heart,” Nora quotes softly, and Charlie squeezes her hand.-- catch me crying in the clubbbbb (tumblr won't let me use emojis anymore for whatever reason since it HATES me, but please imagine 47 crying faces)

When Admiral Simpson asked her why she needed them and she explained – she wanted anyone who’d so much as stood on the tarmac while she’d been filming to be included in the celebration – she could’ve sworn he looked a little impressed. -- I loved this! I love how she wants everyone to be able to celebrate! And giving Cyclone some of the Nora dazzle!

She gives her a quick hug and hands over a bottle of Prosecco – which Charlie had insisted on stopping for on the drive because Charlie couldn’t possibly show up to her ex-boyfriend’s current girlfriend’s house without an expensive bottle of something. // “What am I?” Charlie asked. “Some kind of asshole?"-- PLS THIS IS SO FUNNY! But also all those women need a "I survived Pete Mitchell pin or sticker" lol

Shaking her hand firmly, Natasha asks, excited, “You were Maverick’s instruction at Top Gun, right?” //“One of them,” Charlie answers coolly.//“You knew Viper then? And Iceman?” //“I did.” //“So cool,” Natasha breathes, and Bob nudges her with a small, side smile.-- a starstruck Natasha is so amusing! And bob being the feminist icon that he is is equally impressed! I adored it

“Really?” Charlie asks, like, Is that the story you’re going with? “Then, who’s that handsome man over there making moon eyes at you?”//Jake doesn’t seem to be paying one damn bit of attention to anything coming out of their mouths. His eyes are on her. Always on her. -- LT MOON EYES! He is so decidedly UNSUBTLE frankly idk how they didn't get caught much earlier, lmaooooo

“He’s from Texas,” Nora offers like an explanation, a little too quickly, and Charlie’s arched brow makes her cheeks grow warm. She avoids her eyes, squinting at the horizon and pretending to be fascinated by the gulls over the beach. -- she is so fucking funny, plssssss. She's so hilariously awkward about it and I'm giggling.

Jake smiles at Nora and in his brown sugar voice, says, “I’ll let you enjoy the rest of the evening with your niece, ma’am. She’s pretty spectacular.” //She could kick him. Or kiss him. Or both. -- SMITTEN KITTEN!!! Not him hyping her up at every opportunity. And I'm obsessed with it because he's not doing it to suck up or to get in her good books, like he is so genuine about it. HE CANNOT HELP HIMSELF!

He called Charlie. She never asked, never needed to ask. He just… knew.//And Nora falls a little bit in love with him right then and there; in the same way a little bit of rain falls on your window at the beginning of a mid-August storm. //A preview before an inevitable downpour. -- DO NOT TALK TO ME EVER AGAIN! I MEAN IT AMES! THIS WAS SO PERFECTLY PERFECT I CANNOT HANDLE IT. I could write a 10 page paper about this. (please imagine 107 of the little melty emoji faces because that's me, a puddle of goo on the floor)

Bob brought a deck of cards and now, the Daggers are playing a game of Bullshit on a massive picnic blanket that Penny brought outside for them, and Penny’s daughter Amelia sits with them, giggling when Bradley loses and pretends to stomp off. -- the How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days agenda is still going strong here and I love it.

“How do you feel about long distance?” Nora asks, watching him carefully.//A smile flickers on his face as Jake realizes what Nora is asking. //“California to New York? I can probably swing a few flights, cash in some miles.” //She sets her hand over his, fiddling with his fingers. “That’s sweet, but I was actually thinking more like, North Island to here.” -- he is just so earnest and I swoon over it every damn time! He is so happy that she still wants to be with him, that it's not just a causal fling. He's already making a mental note to get a better credit card with better miles to collect. AND HE MEANS IT SO GENUINELY! He'd do it for her! I'm crying again, don't mind me. It's just so sweet, I want a better word for it, but it's so sweet!

And one day, Nora might take her up on that, but right now, Nora needs a break. A real one. And California feels like the right place for her to take one. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed it  here until she came back.-- MY GIRL!! THAT'S MY GIRL! FINALLY CHOOSING HER! She has a place! She has a person! She has people! I'm a mess because I'm so happy for her! From where we met her to where she is now??! It is EVERYTHING.

“You’re staying,” Jake repeats slowly, like Jake’s afraid to believe her.-- SWEET BOY HE JUST LOVES HER SO MUCH I CAN'TTTT!!! SWEETEST EARNEST LOVELY BOY!

Breathing in the smell of the ocean and him, Nora closes her eyes and catches her breath.-- I HAVE TEARS IN MY EYES!! God, Ames, THESE ENDING LINES! That whole last big was so lovely, so impactful, so damn MOVING!

You are so incredibly talented, Amelia! This was stunning.

baby, i'm high octane (vii)

synopsis: over the course of the last month of the documentary, nora makes some decisions.

pairings: jake seresin x nora rogers (oc)

warnings: 18+, minors and ageless blogs dni, all of the usual warnings, swearing, existential dread, spoilers for ocean's eleven lol, smut (like a little bit, oral sex, allusions to sex) (wc: 12.7K)

note: y'all, it's been so long, i'm so sorry 😭 but i hope the ridiculously long chapter makes up for the wait. last chapter before the epilogue woo!

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Nora spends the whole weekend with Jake.

She doesn’t plan to spend the whole weekend with him. It’s one of those things that just kind of happens, like getting caught up in a good book and realizing it’s been hours and you haven’t moved an inch.

It’s not something she does. It’s more what she doesn’t do.

She doesn’t kick him out on Thursday night as soon as Jake has his pants on, doesn’t push him barefoot in the direction of the door with a Thanks for the sex, come back anytime. 

She doesn’t make up a half-hearted excuse, some reason that she needs to be up early in the morning to keep him from sleeping over.

It’s so simple, really.

She never asks him to leave, and so, Jake stays. 

On Friday morning, Jake brings her coffee in bed. 

She is still half-asleep, sheets all bunched up under her chin, hair fanned messily across the sun-warmed pillows, cheeks flushed. A wide cat-like yawn escapes her as Nora stretches her arms above her head and reaches for the coffee with a slightly hoarse thank you.

Holding the mug in one hand, she rubs the harsh sting of sunshine from her eyes, knuckles creating starbursts on her eyelids, while Jake sprawls across the bed.

He is shirtless, a gold shimmer of chest hair running down his abdomen and disappearing under the black waistband of his boxer shorts. A ripple passes over his ab muscles as Jake stretches out and gets comfortable, searching for her leg through the crumpled pile of sheets.

He strokes a comforting pattern across her calf, across the curve of her knee, and back down again, propped on his elbow to watch her face. 

“How’d I do?” Jake asks, nodding to the coffee. His voice is a low murmur, soft as the blueish morning light that filters in between the sheer curtains.

Holding his gaze, Nora raises the mug to her lips and takes a long, luxurious sip.

She almost sighs out loud. It’s perfect. 

A half-faded conversation from last night pulls at the edge of her mind, muddled by drowsiness and sleep, like a dream.

She was half-awake, already caught in the deep tide of sleep, almost pulled under from the head rush that washed over her in the late hours of the night after Jake kissed damn near every inch of her and got back in line for seconds. A fuzziness in her fingertips, like Nora was taking her first dizzied steps off of the Tilt-A-Whirl at Pacific Park on the Santa Monica Pier, finding her sea legs in the closeness of him; a kind of gravity in the warmth of his chest, pressed against her bare back. 

He wrung another orgasm from her minutes before, and in the afterglow, Nora melted into him like warmed butter, letting out a satisfied hum in the darkness.

Lips warm on her shoulder, Jake asked, “How d’you like your coffee?” 

Her lids were so heavy, and Nora let her eyes close.

“Hm,” Nora hummed. “Guess.” 

He chuckled, and Nora’s lips curved at the sound, at the warm puff of breath on her nape.

“Can’t ever make it easy on me, can you, Hollywood?” 

“Oh,” Nora yawned out. “Not a chance.” 

Jake shifted behind her, closer, and Nora sank further into the warm embrace of his muscular arms around her, so secure and solid. Comforting. Her own personal space heater in the form of a hot Naval aviator. 

Who would’ve thought a man called Hangman would be such a cuddle?

And more, who would’ve thought she’d like it so much?

His fingers tangled with hers as Jake seemed to consider his next words, his guess.

“‘Course not. Let’s see. It’s….” Jake’s lips found the hollow beneath her ear, and Nora breathed a shallow gasp. “What? Oat milk and vanilla?” 

All of the sudden, Nora felt very awake.

Her eyes flew open, and Nora startled, but Jake was too octopus-like around her for her to crane her neck around and look at him. 

“Wow,” Nora said, her raised brows audible in her voice. “Tracking me, Lieutenant?” 

“I’m observant.” Jake shifted again. “It’s part of what makes me a great pilot, sweetheart.” 

And was that a hint of self-consciousness in his sleep-slurred voice? Underneath all of that self-assured confidence and bottomless bravado?

She kind of wanted to see if Jake was blushing.

His fingers flexed around hers, and Nora lightly squeezed his hand.

He squeezed back. Kissed the now-familiar curve of her shoulder and said, “Also, you drink the same thing every day. I’d have a hard time not noticing.” 

“Yeah?” Nora smiled. “You must spend a lot of time looking at me.” 

“Ever since I saw you, I haven’t wanted to look away.” 

There in the dark, Jake’s words sounded like a confession, so open, so sincere.

She drifted off to sleep in his arms, a smile on her face, a pleasant and gnawing ache in her chest.

Now, vanilla and sugar on her tongue, Nora says, “Not bad, Lieutenant.” 

Another sip. Another blissful half-sigh. 

“It’s actually so good,” Nora concedes. “It’s perfect.” 

A smile pulls at the edge of his mouth, and Jake replies, softly, “Good.” 

A quick kiss glances against the side of her knee, and Jake sits up and brushes her hair from her pink cheeks.

She is flushed from sleep; warm from the sun and him. 

He’s sitting so close; looking at her with such open adoration that she feels like she’s burning.

“You’re staring,” Jake drawls with a slow smirk. You have a staring problem. His voice is like the low rumble of a distant summer storm and slightly hoarse, and Nora wants to wrap herself in it like a blanket and sleep the rest of the day away.

Instead, Nora carefully sets the coffee on the nightstand and cupping his face between her hands, kisses him.

For once, she catches him off guard. 

A deep, surprised sound punches out of him – half exhale, half groan. 

She loops her arms around his strong neck, pulling him in, needing to be closer to him. Her fingers brush over the shorter hairs at his nape, curl in the longer strands, damp from where Jake must’ve showered before Nora woke. Dark gold, like a bottle of maple syrup in the sunlight. 

Catching on, Jake bends a hand around the back of her neck and rolls her underneath him on the mattress, following her down, his mouth on hers the whole way down. He swipes his tongue across her bottom lip and into her mouth, and Nora opens for him with a sigh. 

It’s slow and natural. 

Would it always be like this? So easy? she wonders as Jake slides his hand up her side, fingers fanning across her ribcage and higher. Would it be as easy as falling asleep in his arms and waking up to the rich smell of coffee in the morning and kissing slowly like both of them know there will be other kisses, other mornings?

His hand cuts across her abdomen, and Jake covers her breast with his palm, and Nora lets the thought go, like the end of a balloon string, and arches into him. 

There are suddenly too many layers between them.

And impatient, Nora kicks the sheets away and, hooking her leg around his hip, pushes his boxers down and frees his cock. He groans against her mouth, a sweet and rough sound, a reverent sound. 

One hand comes down to hold her against him, rough palm sliding across the back of her thigh and up and up, and Nora shudders against him as Jake runs his fingers through the wetness that’s building between her legs. 

He still has his other hand on the back of her neck, pad of his thumb swiping across her thrumming pulse, and hell, Nora almost wants to reach up and pull his hand around, urge him to spread those broad fingers across her collarbone, across her throat and – 

Another time.

She breaks the kiss and breathes, “Turn over,” against his mouth. 

And Jake – damn him – does this thing with his fingers that makes her brain go blank for a solid five seconds. Like Nora’s been put on airplane mode.

A grin dimples his cheeks as Jake looks down at her, lids low, lips parted just enough to show his teeth. “Now, isn’t that my line, sweetheart?”

She bites down on her bottom lip, holding back something halfway between a laugh and a moan. “Just… get on your back.” 

It’s actually obscene how effortlessly Jake flips them.

He reaches for her again, moving to pull her forward and settle between her open legs, hand around his hard cock, but Nora plants her hands on his stupidly broad shoulders and pushes him back down. 

He could so easily resist her, but Jake lets her lead.

He looks up at her from the pillows with a familiar gleam in his eyes. “What’re you up to, sweetheart?” 

“You know…” Nora murmurs against his neck. “I had something I wanted to do last night.” 

She kisses down his neck, across his shoulders – his beautiful shoulders – and down the center of his chest, memorizing the golden skin and hard muscle in the blue morning. He really is so goddamn handsome. 

His gaze is molten, melted gemstones. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

She moves down his abdomen, admiring the way Jake’s muscles shudder under the soft press of her lips. She notices Jake is holding his breath, and Nora smirks. Good. She wants him a little uneven. 

She looks up at him from under her lashes. “You wouldn’t let me suck your cock.” 

“I was being a gentleman,” Jake argues.

“Well, in that case, allow me to thank you.” 

Nora runs her hand over his cock, stroking him once, twice, and puts her mouth around him, and Jake makes a choked sound, breathing in sudden and sharp, a fragile sound that quickly fades into a broken groan.

“Christ, Nora…” Jake groans, reaching down, his large hand settling on the back of her head, like Jake needs something to ground himself, fingers threading through her hair. 

She hums around him in response, and Jake lets out a breathless, “Fuck,” that’s as flattering as a compliment.

It’s all moans and groans and soft breaths and Nora sweetheart Nora Jesus Christ until Nora looks up at him and murmurs coyly, “Come for me, cowboy,” and half a breath later, Jake finishes in her mouth. 

She swallows with a smug grin, and Jake swears again, his cheeks darkening.

He drapes an arm over his face and lets out a string of breathless swears that make Nora laugh.

“Are you okay?” Nora asks, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She stretches out next to him as Jake catches his breath.

“I think I might be dead,” Jake mumbles from under his arm, voice muffled, “but good news, I’m definitely in heaven.” He lifts his arm slightly and looks at her sidelong, slanted green eyes full of suggestion. “You wanna be my plus one?” 

Her laugh splits into a gasp as Jake slips a hand between her legs.

The coffee is cold when Nora reaches for it again, finding her breath between sips, resting her head on his flushed, sweat-misted chest, but she can’t bring herself to care. She drinks every single drop.

Saturday comes in a blink, and Nora drags Jake to the farmers market in Little Italy.

Or rather, Nora gets dressed in the morning, trading his oversized button-down for a white shirt and a pair of overall shorts, and starts saying, “So I’m thinking about going to the farmers market if you want…” and Jake immediately grabs his keys, a horseshoe shaped bottle opener dangling from the keychain. 

She loves to visit the local markets of new cities as a way to get to know them.

In San Diego, Nora has made a habit of going to the Little Italy Mercato every other weekend to stock up on fresh produce and browse the local art that’s for sale, a whole spread of gorgeous art prints, ceramics, and glassware. 

A few weeks back, Nora found a handmade pitcher the color of blue bottle-glass and started filling it with fresh farm-grown flowers ever since. A bright spot of color on her bedroom sill. 

It should feel weird that Jake’s there – stepping into this Saturday morning ritual that’s only ever been hers – but it’s actually nice, really nice. 

He holds her hand as Nora walks around the street, wandering an aimless zig-zag between the stands, doubling back for the ones that catch her eye.

Her reusable bag grows heavier on her shoulder, slowly filling with fresh fruits and vegetables and even, a heart-shaped bottle of raspberry wine from a Temecula winery, and Nora’s shoulder begins to ache. She moves the bag to her hand and rolls out the minor discomfort in the muscle.

While Nora is distracted at the flower stand, Jake pulls the bag from her loose fingers and swings it over his opposite shoulder and links their hands again.

At first, Nora doesn’t even notice. She is busy sliding her credit card back into her wallet and clicking the no-receipt button on the iPad screen, but the older woman who is wrapping the flowers for her doesn’t miss a thing. She makes enough fuss for the both of them.

“What a nice young man.” 

Nora almost snorts. She really wants to laugh, but doesn’t want to accidentally offend the nice woman who has no idea of the effect those words will have on the man behind her. Jake nudges Nora’s hip, biting back a grin, and collects the expertly-wrapped bouquet from the vendor. 

“Thank you, ma’am,” Jake drawls with a dimpled smile so sugar-sweet that Nora could spoon it into a bottle and use it to sweeten her coffee in the morning. Asshole. 

She looks at him sideways, and Jake is already looking at her, a victorious lift to his mouth, like You see? See the sweet old lady who thinks I’m nice?

As Nora wades back into the crowd, a little flushed, Jake leans down and says, “Hear that? I’m a nice young man,” right against her ear.

Now, Nora does laugh.

“Debatable,” she says.

He laughs. His breath is warm on the side of her neck, and Nora feels his lips brush against her skin, against her hair, for the briefest moment. Shorter even, barely even a blink.

It’s a cloudless morning, but Nora holds back a shiver.

I could kiss him, she absently realizes. She wouldn’t have to do anything more than turn her head, maybe raise her chin, and she would be kissing him. She can just do that now. 

She slows at the realization, but Jake is smiling, sun-bright, and asks, “You hungry?” 

She feels warm in a way that has nothing to do with the summer breeze, the late morning sun on her freckling shoulders and cheeks. She basks in the feeling, in the buzz of a beautiful Saturday morning that’s brought half of San Diego out into the sunshine. 

Her stomach grumbles, and Nora nods.

“Come on, I know just the place,” Jake says. 

His hand slips out of hers to find the small of her back as Jake leads her out of the crowd.

Back on Coronado Island, Jake drives along Orange Ave for a while before pulling into the parking lot of a cute diner called Starboard Side. 

This must be the place Jake mentioned on the Fourth, Nora realizes, where he wanted to take her on a date. 

She is smiling to herself when Jake opens the blue door for her. 

It’s the very definition of charming. Sun-soaked and eclectic with deep blue wallpaper on one end of the diner – covered in a nautical pattern of anchors, ships, and ocean waves – and wood paneling on the other, painted a bright sunflower yellow. 

She steps around a cluster of people who are waiting around the made-to-order coffee counter, either waiting for their order or waiting for one of the blue stools along the counter to be available, and Jake leads her to a booth in the corner.

“This is the best booth in here. It’s got the best window,” Jake says firmly and also in a way that makes her feel like he is waiting for her to agree with him, like a puppy waiting to be patted on the head. Like Jake picked out the best booth in the diner to impress her.

It’s equal parts endearing and ridiculous, which somehow makes it all the more endearing. 

Smiling, Nora slides in across from him, the sun-bleached vinyl under her legs warm against her bare skin. “It’s beautiful. Do you come here a lot?”  

“I’ve been coming here for years,” Jake answers, “since I was first at Top Gun. It’s the perfect amount of miles from the base for a morning run so I’d run here and back and carb load in between. Do you like pancakes or waffles?” 

“Who do you think I am? Pancakes, of course,” Nora says, and Jake’s smile crinkles the corners of his eyes.

“They’ve got really good pancakes.” 

He slides a laminated menu across the checkered table and points to one of the dishes in the Starboard Combos section, and as Nora follows along with his recommendation, walking her through his go-to orders, her hair slips into her face.

It’s been everywhere all morning, a little wild from the warmth of the day, a little windswept from the sea salt breeze coming off the ocean, frizzing and curling around her shoulders. She almost got fed up and braided it on the drive here, but all morning, Jake has been playing with the loose strands of blonde hair, absentmindedly reaching over and running it between his fingers on the Coronado Bridge, brushing it back from her face in the market check-out line when Nora’s hands were too full to do it herself. 

He’d been doing it in bed too, curling a strand around his finger and complimenting the smell of her shampoo.

Every easy and casual touch sends a little thrill dancing through her stomach so Nora left it down.

She sweeps it over her shoulder and studies the menu.

A smiling waitress comes by to grab their orders and flits over to collect a stack of dirty dishes from the next table over, a spiral notepad tucked into the band of her brightly colored apron. She returns a few minutes later to set down their coffees and is gone again.

It’s just them now. Just them again. 

She stirs the coffee with a metal spoon, oversized ice cubes clinking gently against the sides of the wide-mouth jar. She licks the sugar from the spoon and sets it back down on a paper napkin and watches him.

He rests his cheek on his open palm, curving his other hand around the chipped handle of the baby blue diner mug and watches her back. 

He ordered his coffee with cream and sugar and his eggs sunny side up, and Nora snatches up those little shining details like a magpie. She adds them to the picture of him in her mind.

He likes his coffee a little sweet. He likes pancakes. He likes her.

A golden beam of sunlight slants through the large window at their side, the best window in the whole diner. It’s almost noon, and in the afternoon light, Jake looks relaxed and thoughtful, edges softened, all dimples and laugh lines.

She notices a small hole in the collar of his shirt – barely even noticeable – and Nora latches onto that small imperfection like a lifeline, proof that Jake isn’t something Nora dreamed up. He’s real, heart-achingly so.

“So…” Nora says.

“So…” Jake echoes.

So…

So, what does this mean?

So, what do people talk about on first dates that feel like fifth, sixth, seventh dates?

So so so.

“So,” Nora says again. A complete sentence. She rests her chin on her interlaced fingers, mimicking his posture, half leaned forward, shoulders relaxed. “I have a question for you, Texas.” 

His lips quirk. “Yeah? What kind of question?” 

She dips her chin, lips pursed against a smile. “A very important one.” 

A dimple springs up in his cheek as Jake drawls, “Hit me, Hollywood,” in a voice full of Texas.

“What is…” Nora reaches for her coffee. Draws out the suspense. “…your favorite movie?” 

The corner of his mouth kicks up, and Nora narrows her eyes.

“Careful now. There are wrong answers here.”

“I’m not worried, sweetheart,” Jake replies with a casual sip of coffee, sprawling posture matching his words. “That’s an easy one. It’s Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. Robert Redford and Paul Newman. Got anything harder for me?” 

Asshole, Nora thinks with affection.

A cowboy movie for a cowboy. Of course.

And Nora lets out an approving, “Good movie,” instead of damn. 

Because maybe, just maybe if Jake had god awful taste in movies – like, I respect you less as a person now bad – Nora could pour sand over the sparks that kick to life in her chest whenever Jake’s arm so much as brushes against hers. Damn damn damn.

And Jake’s smile is a little smug, a little knowing. “You like that I like good movies, don’t you? It kinda turns you on.” 

“I’m not answering that,” Nora says, which might as well be an answer, and Jake’s grin sharpens.

She pointedly ignores him, cheeks warm, and sips her coffee. “Is there a story there? Or are you really that much of a cowboy?” 

He makes a noncommittal sound, not ignoring the question, not answering either.

This is a date, not an interview, Nora reminds herself. She doesn’t push.

He brings the mug to his lips and asks, “What about you? What’s yours?” 

“Oh, I – ” Nora makes a face. “I don’t know if I have one.” 

Shaking his head, Jake shoots her a disbelieving look. “You’re not getting out of this one, Hollywood, not a chance. You have to have one.” 

Nora laughs. “I don’t know. It’s all just so subjective. I like a lot of movies for a lot of different reasons.” She gestures to him. “I mean, don’t you? Doesn’t everyone?” 

“Sure,” Jake says slowly, “but you must have a favorite.” 

“That’s what I’m saying. A movie can be a favorite for any number of reasons, like, if you see a movie at the exact right time or maybe, with the exact right person or both, and it’s almost like the movie found you and not the other way around.” 

A half-smile forms on his face as Jake listens to her.

“It’s hard to pick one favorite. How do you compare that – that raw emotional experience – with a movie that’s objectively very good from a craft perspective?” 

“You tell me, sweetheart,” and Jake chuckles when Nora gives him a look. “Alright, what about two movies?” 

“Two?” 

“Yeah.” He holds up two fingers. “Pick two favorites.” 

Two favorites. She can probably do two.

Thinking for a moment, Nora says, “When Harry Met Sally. One, because it’s amazing movie and the best rom-com of our time, obviously.”

She waits expectantly until Jake echoes, obviously, with a smile.

“Two, because I watched it in high school with my mom. I was supposed to go to this pool party that a girl in my grade was throwing for her birthday, but I got super sick, and I was so upset. It was like, all I’d been looking forward to that week. My mom canceled her plans and stayed in with me.” She smiles at the memory. “We spent the whole night on the couch, eating pizza and watching a Meg Ryan marathon on cable. It’s been a favorite of mine ever since.” 

Gaze warm, Jake absorbs this with a nod. “What’s your second favorite?” 

“Ocean’s Eleven,” Nora answers without hesitation. “I was obsessed with George Clooney when I was a kid. I once wrote him a letter and asked him to be my step-dad. He never got back to me, unfortunately.” 

His laugh lights up his whole face. “God, of course you did. How’d your mom feel about that?” 

“She would’ve gotten on board. It’s George Clooney,” Nora says simply, like it’s obvious. 

His foot brushes against hers underneath the table, his ankle slotting into the space between hers, and something about it feels so intimate that Nora almost shivers.

After a moment, Jake offers, “I saw Butch and Sundance with my dad.” 

An answer to a question Nora didn’t ask out loud. 

Surprised, Nora pauses. “Your dad?” 

A nod as Jake runs his hand over his nape. “Austin had this retro movie theater that used to play old movies on Saturday and Sunday mornings for real cheap, like five bucks, maybe even less back then. My football practice got rained out one weekend, and for once, my dad wasn’t working so we went to see Butch and Sundance. It’s probably the best afternoon I ever had with him.” A fraction of the  seriousness washes from his face as Jake winks and adds, “And I’m that much of a cowboy, sweetheart. You should see my Stetson collection back home.” 

A charmed smile pulls at her mouth, and Nora chooses her words carefully. “You’ve never mentioned your dad before.” 

One of his shoulders rises and falls. “We’re not close. He was kind of an asshole even then, always on me about every little mistake I’d make during games, every A-minus that should’ve been an A. He only got meaner as I got older.” He sighs and rubs his hand over his face. “My parents split up when I was in high school. He was a real dick to my mom during the divorce, so I don’t see him unless I have to now.” 

“My dad’s an asshole too,” Nora says. “George Clooney would’ve been much better.” 

Jake laughs, and Nora smiles, kind of proud of herself.

The waitress comes back with their food, and Nora slides the plate of blueberry pancakes and scrambled eggs in front of her. She carefully unrolls her knife and fork and sets the napkin across her lap. She doesn’t want any crushed blueberry stains on these overalls. 

An unladylike sound almost escapes her mouth at her first bite, and Nora closes her mouth around the sound. 

“You were right about the pancakes.” 

“Of course I was.” 

Nora rolls her eyes, and Jake chuckles.

Washing it down with a sip of coffee, Nora says, “You never told me your second favorite movie.” 

Jake breaks off a piece of whole-wheat toast and dips it in yellow egg yolk. He pops it in his mouth and grinning around the bite, replies, “You already know my second favorite.” 

“I do?” She sets her fork down, already sticky with maple syrup.

He nods, not giving her any hints, waiting for her to catch up with him, to keep up. 

She wracks her brain for any movie Nora had ever heard Jake mention. She can’t think of a single one. She's about to fold her cards and ask him to tell her until – 

“Oh my god. You’re full of shit.” 

“I’m not,” Jake says, amused.

She stares at him, mouth open slightly. “You can’t be serious. Your favorite movies are Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, one of the best Westerns of all time, which has been preserved by the Library of Congress for being culturally significant, and – ”  

“How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days,” Jake finishes with a grin. He cocks his head. “What can I say? I love McConaughey.” 

His smile splits wide open when Nora bursts out laughing.

After, when Nora is leaving the diner, full of good food, Jake walks ahead of her to check the parking meter, and watching him, Nora has the most disorienting urge to walk over and wrap her arms around him. Press her cheek into the wrinkle of soft heather gray fabric between his shoulder blades. Inhale the smell of his cologne like Nora’s done it a million times before.

This is new, Nora reminds herself. It’s so new.

Except when Jake glances over his shoulder and looks for her, green eyes darting down to run over her bare legs, and smiles, wide and affectionate like he didn’t just spend almost two hours across from her, like he could spend all day looking at her and never get sick of it; nothing about it feels new.

It feels like Nora’s already waist deep, right in the middle of something vast and all-consuming, something bottomless. 

And when Jake extends a hand behind him, reaching for her, eyes as green as dew-covered grass, Nora steps into the daylight and links her fingers with his, filling in the gaps, somehow it’s the most natural thing in the whole world.

Two more weeks pass, and Nora’s with Jake more than she’s not.

He sleeps over so often that Nora clears a spot on the bathroom counter for him to leave a spare toothbrush, and likewise, Jake starts to keep her favorite brands of cold brew and creamer in his fridge. 

Coffee in bed becomes something of a weekend routine.

Once, in his apartment, Jake brings her coffee in a Lone Star State mug, which looks like one of those souvenir mugs you might find in an airport. It’s covered in a patchwork of orange and light blue doodles: a cowboy hat, a horse, a Sheriff’s star.

“Beth bought it for me when I left for my first deployment,” Jake explains when Nora asks him about the mug, running her fingers over the delicate outlines. “So I’d have something to remind me of home.” 

They go on a second date. A third. A fourth. 

He finds a dine-in movie theater in La Jolla that’s doing a 90’s Rom Com series all summer and takes her to a 35mm showing of Clueless, listening attentively as Nora explains the difference between digital and film projection in excruciating detail on the drive there, a smile on his face.

On the mornings that Jake doesn’t stay the night, Nora orders an extra coffee – with cream and sugar – from her favorite coffee shops and meets him on the base a half hour earlier than the rest of the Daggers. She kisses him in the quiet of the Ready Room until 8:00 AM rolls around. 

It’s all meaningful looks and stolen kisses; late night drives with the windows down, the wind in her hair, his hand on her thigh; rolls of film, not yet developed. It’s something for them, something good. 

They keep it under the radar in front of the Daggers.

She’s not worried about them finding out, but Captain Mitchell is an extension of the Daggers, and Nora would really like to keep Aunt Charlie’s ex-boyfriend in the dark about her sex life for as long as possible. Forever, even. 

Also, she still has a month left in her contract, and while she’s pretty sure the Naval magazine wouldn’t fire her for sleeping with one of the film subjects in a documentary like this one, she’s not so sure that she wants to put it to the test.

So, for now, under the radar it is. 

After the Fourth of July, Javy officially gets his orders to report to Maverick's squadron. He goes back to Lemoore to wrap up some loose ends with his old C.O., and Jake meets him there the next weekend to drive a U-Haul back down.

And Nora emails the magazine and lets them know that the documentary will have one more Dagger. 

Nora has more than enough time to weave him into the narrative of the film, and anyway, Javy is an official member of the squadron now. He is as much part of the story of the squadron as the other Daggers. 

Plus, Nora hasn’t forgotten how excited Javy was about the film. It’ll be seamless, her version of rolling out the red carpet for him.

On his second day, Nora pulls him aside between drills and sits him down in front of the camera.

It’s a good interview, which doesn’t surprise her in the slightest. He’s a lot like Jake in that way, effortlessly funny and charismatic with a glowing movie star smile. Her cheeks hurt from smiling by the end of the interview, completely and thoroughly charmed. 

After, Nora walks back to the Ready Room with him, and Javy asks, “How was that?” 

“Super good,” she tells him. He holds the door open for her, like a gentleman, and with a smile, Nora crosses the threshold ahead of him, looking at him over her shoulder. “No, but really, it was great. You’re a natural.” 

On the couch, Jake grumbles, “I thought I was a natural,” and Nora swats at him on her way past.

Everyone gathers at the Jake’s apartment later that night to eat some pizza and watch a movie.

Nora is curled up on the opposite end of the couch as Jake with an unsuspecting Bob between them. At one point, Jake looks around the room and stretches his arm casually over the back of the couch, and Nora feels him fiddling with the end of her braid.

She hides her smile in her next sip of white wine.

She is peacefully watching the movie, drinking the wine and sharing a bowl of extra-butter popcorn with Bob when Natasha comes back from the bathroom and plops down on the carpet again with a smirk on her face.

“Hangman.” 

“Yeah?” 

“It’s nice of you to host and all, but next time, if you’re going to leave your bedroom door open, can you tell your girlfriend not to leave her underwear on the floor?” 

Nora chokes.

A popcorn kernel shoots into her airway, and Nora coughs into her wine.

Jake subtly drops his arm behind the couch, letting go of her hair.

Looking down at Natasha, Jake raises his brows, like oh, who, me?, and smiles a familiar cat-like smile, unbothered and calm. “Sure, Phoenix. I’ll pass along the message.” 

It’s immediately obvious that Natasha expected him to say anything but that.

She gapes at him, and meanwhile, Nora wishes it was possible to elbow Jake through Bob.

She curls further into the armrest and swallows a mouthful of wine that’s almost too much, wine dribbling out of the side of her mouth and onto her shirt. 

What happened to under the radar?

And when did Nora leave his apartment without her underwear? 

Is she wearing underwear now?

She pats her hip under the guise of smoothing out a wrinkle in her sweat shorts. All clear.

Natasha spends the last 30 minutes of Ocean’s Eleven grilling him – and when Jake smiles that infuriating plastic smile and doesn’t reveal anything, pivoting to Javy – about whether Jake does, in fact, have a girlfriend while Nora pretends to be engrossed in the movie and not eavesdropping. 

“Wow, so Danny gets the money and the girl in the end. Good for him,” Nora says.

Bob gives her an odd look. “Haven’t you seen this movie before?” 

She reaches for her wine again as a diversion, only to find the glass empty. Goddammit. 

When Natasha is still in interrogation mode during the credits, Nora gathers the plates from the living room and escapes to the kitchen, hoping to hide in there until Natasha has even given up or gotten bored.

And knowing her, the latter is far more likely than the former.

Her peace ends about 30 seconds later when Bradley follows her.

He leans against the counter and unrolls the bag of cheese balls that Nora just clipped shut. Tosses one into his mouth. He grins at her knowingly, and Nora narrows her eyes at him in warning.

Don’t say a damn word. 

Still, Bradley observes, “You followed my advice, Rogers.” 

He’s not loud, but Bradley’s not exactly quiet by nature.

She sends a nervous glance into the other room and hisses, “We’re not doing this right now.” 

She dumps the crumbs and uneaten pizza crusts into the garbage and stacks the dishes next to the sink. Turns on the sink to give them a little more privacy because if Nora knows him, Bradley has never left well enough alone in his life.

“Fine.” He knocks back a handful of cheese balls like a shot of vodka and dusts his hands off in a shower of orange crumbs. Nora looks between him and the roll of paper towels at his elbow with a scrunched brow. He doesn’t seem to notice and barrels on, “But listen, as a friend, can I ask you for something?” 

“What?” Nora deadpans.

“Can I have like a 10 minute warning before you tell Hangman we slept together? I’d like to protect the goods.” 

He gestures to his face, but Nora has a feeling Bradley also wants to protect something else.

She stifles a laugh. “He’s not gonna punch you for something that happened five years ago.” 

“You don’t know that.” 

“Except I do know that because I already told him.” She points to the counter behind him. “Can you hand me that bowl?” 

He pauses mid-crunch and doesn’t move. “You told him?” 

She sighs and reaches around him for the chip bowl herself. “Yes, Bradshaw, I told him.” 

“And Hangman didn’t punch me?” 

“Guess not.” 

“I feel like I should be offended.” 

She stares at him, incredulous. “Did you want him to punch you?” 

“That’s not the point, Nora,” Bradley says, exasperated, like Nora is the one who’s being ridiculous here. “I can’t believe you told him without telling me. How’d he take it?” 

“He didn’t care,” Nora says. She squirts dish soap onto a sponge and scrubs the potato chip grease from the bowl. “He actually thought it was funny.” 

She suspected that Javy might’ve said something to his best friend about their conversation at the roller rink, and Nora didn’t want any lingering suspicions to turn into something bigger than the truth, something that might affect Jake or Bradley in their already high-risk jobs. 

So Nora told him.

He seemed surprised at first.

And then, Jake laughed.

He laughed so hard that Nora hit him with a pillow to get him to stop.

“You and Bradshaw?” Jake chuckled. “You’re so out of his league, sweetheart. Jesus.” 

“We were both drunk, okay?” Nora exclaimed. She felt a certain amount of protectiveness over her 24-year-old self and her weakness for men with big arms and sad eyes. Really, who could blame her? “He was older and hot and sad and – Would you stop laughing at me?” 

“Funny,” Bradley repeats flatly. 

Her lips twitch. “He asked if I’d always been passionate about volunteering with the elderly.” 

A cheese ball rolls down his chest and under the fridge, and Nora bites the inside of her cheek.

Bradley purses his lips. “Now I feel like I should punch him.” 

Eventually, Natasha decides that Jake must be messing with her – “Hangman couldn’t possibly be dating someone. He can never shut up. We’d all know about her.” – and Nora manages to make it out of the night unscathed with the rest of the Daggers none-the-wiser.

(Except Javy, who gives her a sympathetic pat on the shoulder on his way out.)

A week later, Nora is working late in the Ready Room. 

She is leaning on her elbow with god-awful computer posture – one knee pulled up on the chair, a mist of sweat on her brow from the heat – and Jake pops in to the room to let her know that the Daggers are headed to the Hard Deck for an after-work drink.

“You gonna be much longer?” Jake asks. “Want me to wait for you?” 

He sets his chin on her shoulder, watching her fingers move across the keyboard, kissing a spot underneath her ear that usually makes her brain go back, usually makes her sigh and melt into him, but Nora stays strong.

It’s just this one last thing. 

She blows out a grounding several-seconds-long breath to keep herself focused. 

“I’m almost done,” Nora replies evenly, impressively evenly, actually, “so don’t distract me.” 

His lips pull into a grin against the side of her neck.

For his part, Jake doesn’t say anything else. He gives her space, leaning against the window, and watches her in silence. 

She saves one last file, and once the external hard drive is properly ejected, Nora slams the laptop shut. She spins around to look at him, her elbows on the back of the chair, and Jake has his arms folded across his chest, looking effortless and handsome and effortlessly handsome in his black shirt.

Her lip catches between her teeth.

“Hi,” Nora breathes.

Expression soft, Jake says back, “Hi, sweetheart.” 

“How was your day? Good?” 

He nods. “You?” 

She does the same, a dip of her chin.

Evening sun pierces through the open blinds, drenching the room in a copper hue and making it at least five degrees warmer, if not more, and Nora looks him over in the glow. Drinks him in like an Old Fashioned. Her favorite drink.

They’ve been talking a lot about those lately. Favorites. 

Favorite movie. Favorite song. Favorite time of day.

When Harry Met Sally. Gold Dust Woman by Fleetwood Mac. That moment right before sunset when the whole sky and ocean turns pink.

She’s starting to realize Jake might be one of her favorites too.

She motions him closer, crooking her finger, and Jake bends indulgently, eyes bright.

She reaches for him. Coasts her palm along the slope of his chin, the cut-glass curve of his cheek, the prickle of stubble on his strong jawline. 

She kisses him on the cheek and rests her lips there. Mumbles against his skin, “You could use a shave, cowboy.” 

She feels him smile, feels the muscles in his face stretching and working.

“You don’t like the stubble, sweetheart?” 

Nora actually does like the stubble. He looks a little more rugged, a little more like a cowboy. She can imagine him on a ranch in Texas, a sunburn on his broad shoulders, riding horses in his real-leather cowboy boots and his real-denim jeans, tipping his Stetson at her with a wink and a broad grin on his ride. She might like it a little too much.

“Well,” Nora drawls, “I didn’t say that.” 

As Nora pulls back with a grin of her own, Jake catches her chin between his index and thumb and kisses her.

It’s such a good kiss that for a moment, Nora lets herself forget everything else.

She lets herself forget their surroundings; let herself forget the afternoon she spent making a list of gaps in the footage because she has less than fourteen days to fill them in, less than fourteen days left here.

She lets herself forget the rising number of unanswered emails in her inbox and her one-way plane ticket back to New York at the end of the month. 

She lets herself forget anything that isn’t Jake’s hands on her hips, urging her to her feet and pushing her back against the table, hands sneaking under the hem of her shirt, and Nora’s hands in his hair, tousled from the wind and a little damp from his post-flight shower, smelling like soap and jet fuel. 

She loses herself in him, in this.

A door creaks open, and she doesn’t even notice.

“Are you still here, Nora? Phoenix wanted me to ask if…” 

All of the air rushes out of Bob mid-sentence. 

He makes a noise like a punctured balloon – a kind of stunned Oh! sound – and quickly shuts the door again.

Nora breaks away from the kiss, but Bob’s long gone now, picture frames rattling in his wake. 

“Oh… Oh my god.” Nora puts her hands over her face and lets out a panicked laugh into her palms. “What are the odds I could ask him not to tell anyone?” 

“Slim to none,” Jake replies helpfully. “He’s probably already told Phoenix by now.” 

“No way. It’s been like 30 seconds. How….” She grabs her phone, and not four seconds later, an incoming call from Natasha pops up on the screen. She presses decline with a startled sound and drops her phone back on the desk, like it’s a snake that bit her.

What the hell? Are Bob and Natasha telepathically linked?

Jake laughs. He looks far too smug for Nora’s liking.

She squints up at him. “And what exactly are you smiling about? I could get fired.” 

She’s not really going to get fired, but she is feeling dramatic enough to say it anyway.

“You’re not gonna get fired,” Jake fires back without missing a beat. He hooks a finger in her belt loop and pulls her closer. “And I’m smiling because as much as I’ve liked having you all to myself these past few weeks…” A deliberate kiss against the column of her throat as Jake slides his palm up the same path. A breathy sigh. “... I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t be happy to not have to sneak around anymore. Now, I’ll be able to kiss you anytime I want.” 

“Is that a Sweet Home Alabama refer– oh?” 

He cuts her off with another kiss, leg sliding between hers and up, his hand around the front of her throat.

It’s a long while before Nora packs up.

She’s only been at the Hard Deck for a few minutes when Bob comes over, looking sheepish, and apologizes with an Old Fashioned in hand.

“I’m sorry, Nora, I should’ve knocked,” Bob says, his shoulders rounded, contrite. “And I’m sorry I immediately told Phoenix.” A pause, and Bob’s cheeks redden a little. “And Fanboy and Payback and also, Rooster and Coyote, but both of them already knew.” 

Nora laughs. “Jesus, Bob, I didn’t realize you were such a gossip.” 

His blush deepens. “I’m sorry. I really thought everyone knew but me, but I guess Rooster and Coyote were the only ones.” 

“It’s okay. We weren’t being very discreet,” Nora admits. She accepts the Old Fashioned with a forgiving squeeze of his arm. “Is Natasha mad? Like on a scale of 1 to Witness Protection?” 

He pulls a face. “I think, more than anything, Phoenix is more mad she wasn’t the first one to figure it out. She’s also pissed Rooster knew and didn’t tell her.” 

“I’ll let him take the heat for this one,” Nora says conspiratorially. 

Bob smiles. “Probably a smart move.” 

She kills the next half-hour and change at the pool table with Jake.

He’s apparently taken not sneaking around anymore to mean have his hands on her at all times. He stands too close and slips a hand into the back pocket of her jeans while Nora is trying to take her turn. Cheater.

Natasha comes over in the middle of a game, nursing a Blue Moon.

She stands at Nora’s side and looks down at the game. “I guess I should’ve known,” she says in the matter-of-fact tone of someone who has processed their surprise. “He’s always staring at you lately. You were either hooking up or in desperate need of a restraining order.” 

“Jury’s still out on the restraining order,” Nora replies dryly and smiles when an eavesdropping Jake looks up sharply. He meets her gaze and shakes his head, a smirk hanging from the corner of his mouth. 

A wrinkle between her brows, Natasha asks, “Is it pretty casual? Or are you guys like, dating now?” 

“No,” Nora answers while at the exact same time, Jake calls, “Yes.” 

A swooping feeling fills her stomach.

They haven’t used that word yet. Dating.

Dating has weight. Implications that Nora isn’t prepared to deal with right now.

Like, if they’re dating, what happens when she leaves? 

And yet, foolishly, Nora really likes the sound of it.

She wrinkles her nose but doesn’t correct him, and Jake grins, like he’s won something.

Natasha observes this interaction with vague fascination.

“I’ll let you two figure that one out.” Natasha hoists herself onto a barstool, legs dangling, and nods to Jake. “I’ve got the next game with you, Nora. Hangman’s been hogging you over here.” 

She and Natasha play a couple of games – first alone and then, against an overconfident pair of ensigns fresh from the Naval academy who wander over to hit on them. They win 40 bucks each off of them and send them packing.

And when Jake wraps his arms around her shoulders from behind, grinning lips pressed against her cheek, Nora spins around and kisses him on the mouth and doesn’t give a damn who sees. 

On the last Friday of the month, Nora sends off the last few files and pieces of footage and organizes a wrap party for the documentary. 

She loves this part of the filmmaking process – after weeks, months of work, a moment of pause and celebration and achievement. It’s such a singular and special experience to create something from start to finish, and Nora wants the Naval aviators have the chance to share in that moment with her. See what the last eight weeks have been for. 

Captain Mitchell ends the day a few hours early and gathers the Naval aviators in the room where Nora first introduced herself to them all of those weeks ago.

A sharp sense of deja vu washes over her as Nora finds herself at the front of the room once again, eight weeks older. She’s not looking out on a group of half-acquaintances, practical strangers, watching her with caution and curiosity. These are her friends. She sees nothing but excitement and anticipation in their eyes.

It’s always a bittersweet feeling, and Nora pushes down the overwhelm that rises in her chest, sticking to the sides of her throat. She swallows hard.

Bradley cups his hands around his mouth and calls, “Speech! Speech! Speech!” 

She exhales a laugh, relaxing. “I do have a little speech. More of an introduction, actually.” She links her fingers and holds them in front of her stomach to give herself something to do with her hands. “Making something like this is never easy. It’s almost always disruptive, but I felt so welcome here. You made it feel easy.” 

She continues, “I’m only contracted as the filmmaker so I’m not doing the final edit of the film, but I didn’t want to send it off into post-production without showing you something that represents your hard work and dedication. You’ve volunteered a lot of your time to this project. It’s as much your achievement as mine.” She plugs in her laptop and pulls up the video and smiles. “I have a few minutes of footage for you.” 

A chorus of whoops and cheers, and Nora presses the play button. 

Text appears on the black screen as Nora quietly sits down.

On March 3, 1969, the UNITED STATES NAVY established an elite school for the top one percent of its pilots. Its purpose was to teach the LOST ART OF AERIAL COMBAT and to ensure that the handful of men (and now women) who graduated were the BEST FIGHTER PILOTS IN THE WORLD. They succeeded.

The Navy calls it Fighter Weapons School. You might know it better as TOP GUN.

A video of Captain Mitchell fades in, and Bradley claps loudly and shouts, “Let’s go, Mav!” 

Natasha shushes him – and maybe punches him in the shoulder because Bradley lets out a pained groan.

“These men and women,” Captain Mitchell says on the screen. “This squadron. There’s never been a squadron like this one in the history of the Naval aviation.” He fades to voice-over over a rapid-fire reel of in-air footage: Jets cut through the blue skies at impossible speeds, perform incredible high-speed maneuvers, again and again and again. A black screen as Captain Mitchell declares, “These are the best fighter pilots on the planet.” 

A small smile dances on Nora’s lips, anticipating.

What follows is a straight-forward but effective pattern.

Each Dagger appears on the screen and says their call sign, and Nora clipped something from their interview – a good anecdote, a particularly memorable quote – with footage of them in the air or b-roll of them on the base.

On the screen, Jake – Lieutenant Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin, reads the lower-third – flashes a 1000-watt smile to the side of the camera, and Nora smiles despite herself. He was looking at her. She remembers it so vividly, sitting there, pretending not to be charmed by him, pretending not to want him.

Next to her, Jake leans over and whispers, “You remember when you told me you didn’t like me after this?” 

“Shut up,” Nora whispers back, smiling.

He grows closer, lips brushing her ear. “Now, why would I? We both know how much you love to shut me up, sweetheart.” 

A rose pink blush spreads across her cheeks, and Jake chuckles.

Behind him, Natasha kicks his chair. “Zip it, Hangman. Stop flirting during my big moment.” 

And Natasha’s JUST loud enough that Captain Mitchell hears.

He looks over with a frown. His gaze snags on where Hangman’s arm hangs ever-so-casually over the side of his chair, his pinky finger brushing against the side of Nora’s hand. 

Pete Mitchell huffs out an amused exhale and shakes his head and thinks about all of the improbably and impossible ways that history seems to repeat itself. He looks over his shoulder and spots a familiar figure, slipping into the back of the room unnoticed. He nods to them and directs his attention back to the screen. 

A short round of applause breaks out at the end of the video, and Nora beams.

She does a little half-bow at Natasha’s insistence. 

“Thank you. You can stop now,” Nora laughs. She collects her laptop from the podium and holds it against her chest. “A military base isn’t the best place for a real wrap party, but Penny’s been kind enough to host us at her house tonight so I’ll see you all there, but while I’m here and still on the clock, any last questions?” 

A beat of silence. 

A familiar voice rings out from the back of the room.

“Can I ask one?” 

Shock burns down the length of her spine, a sparked fuse of a stick of dynamite, and Nora straightens. 

“What the fuck?” spills out of her mouth. She gapes. “Charlie?” 

Standing in front of the red-and-blue Fighter Weapons School emblem, a leather bomber around her shoulders, a pair of aviator sunglasses in her graying curls, Charlie looks like one of her old photo albums come to life. A wide smile stretches across her face, making her look three decades younger. 

What? How? And again, what?

“Last I checked,” Charlie says with a smooth smile. She nods to Captain Mitchell. “Maverick.” 

“Charlie.” He doesn’t sound surprised. “Good to see you again.” 

Nora is mostly definitely surprised. Stunned. “But… Charlie, what’re you doing here?” 

Charlie leans against the back wall, arms crossed, effortlessly cool.

“Pete here was kind enough to let me know about the wrap party, and I thought, what the hell? Maybe I should take one of those vacation days the Pentagon is always on me about.” Her expression softens as Charlie takes her in. “It’s good to see you, sweetie.” 

Charlie’s here. She’s here.

Nora blinks rapidly.

And promptly bursts into tears. 

Half an hour later, Nora is sitting at a high top in a secluded corner of the hotel bar where Charlie is staying. 

She orders an Old Fashioned from the waiter, and Charlie orders a glass of Pinot Noir and swirls the maroon wine around in her glass like a seasoned professional. Nora’s never really understood the point of doing that – something about letting the wine breathe – but it does make Charlie look pretty sophisticated.

Then again, with her red lips and her Grace Kelly curls, Charlie always looks pretty sophisticated. 

She sips her wine, lipstick un-smudged, and studies Nora over the glass. 

Nora prepares herself for the inevitable barrage of questions.

Something along the lines of, So what happened? Did you lose your phone? or maybe, Why did you start crying in the middle of the Naval base like a certified head case? Both of which are fair enough questions. 

Bob was the first one to recover from his alarm and procured a packet of Kleenex from one of the pockets of his flight suit. He offered her one with a sympathetic smile, and Nora blew her nose with a grateful nod. 

To his credit, Captain Mitchell snapped into action and quickly ushered the rest of the Daggers out of the room.

“Let’s give them some privacy,” Nora heard Captain Mitchell say as Charlie wrapped her in a hug. His voice grew a little sterner, a little harder. “You too, Hangman. Let’s go.” 

She opened her wet eyes, and Captain Mitchell had his hand on Jake’s shoulder, but Jake was looking at her, concern plain on his face, his lips downturned. 

She gave him a watery smile, and Jake’s shoulders visibly relaxed.

He was still the last one out of the room. 

Now, Charlie looks her over and comments brightly, “You’ve got some color in your cheeks. Are you spending a lot of time on the beach?” 

She blinks. That’s… not a question Nora was expecting.

“They put me up in an apartment right on the beach, and the Daggers like to go down to North Beach and play volleyball and football, so I hang out with them sometimes.” 

“You play football?” Charlie asks, skeptical and amused.

“I read.” 

“Ah. Of course. Anything good?” 

What is happening right now? “Yeah, sure, I guess.” 

“Good.” 

Charlie drinks her wine and doesn’t ask anything else.

Nora stares at her. “Charlie?”

“Hm?” 

“Aren’t you going to ask?” 

“No.” 

She almost laughs. “No?” 

“No,” Charlie repeats simply. She flags down the waiter and points to the appetizers on the Happy Hour menu. “Excuse me. Could we get an order of the whipped ricotta and then, the truffle parmesan fries? You can charge it to my room. Thanks, hon.”  

Nora stares at her aunt like she’s been body snatched, and Charlie sighs. 

“Listen,” Charlie starts. “You haven’t called me in weeks so clearly, whatever you’ve got going on is something you’re not ready to share with me right away, and if I know you at all – and I like to think I do – I know I’ll get absolutely nowhere if I push you.” She picks up her glass and swirls it again. “So, we’ll get a couple of drinks and split some appetizers, and when you’re ready, you can tell me what’s going on.” 

They do exactly that.

Nora orders a second drink and spreads honey-drizzled ricotta across pieces of baguette and fills Charlie in on the last eight weeks, every minuscule and probably uninteresting detail about the documentary and the squadron. She does, however, gloss over a few crucial details about Jake, as is her right as guaranteed by the Fifth amendment. She’s also not quite sure how to explain it herself. 

And eventually, when her drink is down to ice and the bread down to crumbs, Nora tells her aunt what’s going on. 

And Charlie listens.

She listens to everything.

Every doubt and fear. Every uncertainty that’s been weighing Nora down for the past year and a half, making her feel like she’s caught in a bear trap, like she can’t move, like she can’t breathe. 

Admitting all of these big and all-consuming feelings to Charlie is scary and freeing in equal measures, but in the end, where there was once a pit in her stomach, she feels relief. She feels one breath closer to the surface. 

When Nora is done, her mouth is dried out. She chugs half a glass of water.

And almost spits it all back out when Charlie’s first words are: “So why don’t you quit?” 

“What?” Nora asks, more of a stunned syllable than a question.

“If you don’t want to do it anymore,” Charlie says plainly, “don’t.” 

Her brows are high on her forehead as Nora asks, bewildered, “So what? Give up?” 

“I didn’t say give up,” Charlie sighs, and it brings Nora back to her teen years when Charlie would accuse her of being difficult on purpose. “I said quit.” 

“They feel like the same thing.” 

“They’re not.” 

She bites her lip and looks over Charlie’s shoulder and out of the window. 

“Isn’t it like…” Nora blows out a breath. “If I quit now, isn’t it like I’m flushing six years of my life down the drain?” 

Charlie shrugs. “You still did a lot in those six years. Changing your mind doesn’t take away from any of those accomplishments, but now, maybe it’s time for you to do something else, something you like more. Start over.” 

Nora sits back. “You say it like it’s simple. Easy.” 

“It might not be easy. It most likely won’t be, but it is that simple, yes.” 

Words catch in her throat, and when Nora says it out loud, her voice sounds small. “I’m scared.” 

Her aunt’s face softens. She reaches across the table and cups Nora’s hand.

“You’re allowed to be scared. Everyone’s scared.” 

She blows out a shaky breath to keep herself from crying again, but a slight crack in her voice gives her away. Damn. “Yeah? When’s the last time you were scared you couldn’t do something?” 

God. She regrets the words almost immediately. 

She sounds childish, petulant, but right now, Nora feels like the 16-year-old who snuck Charlie’s red lipstick from her make-up pouch and got busted because she accidentally put it back uncapped and ruined the inside of the bag. Or like the 21-year-old who ordered an Old Fashioned for her first legal drink because Charlie used to drink them at home and hated it so much that Nora wouldn’t drink another for four more years. 

Like all Nora ever wants to be is someone that Charlie can be proud of.

All of the sudden, Charlie looks very far away. “I don’t think I’ve ever been more scared than when your mom died. She made being a parent look so easy, and I got to be the cool Aunt Charlie on the sidelines, and then, she was gone, and I was so scared I’d fuck up and undo everything.” 

Nora’s eyes burn. “Charlie, I never… You never said anything.” 

“Of course not,” Charlie dismisses with a shake of her head, curls bouncing. “You were still a kid. You were grieving. You needed stability, and I knew I had to do my best because sometimes, you’re scared and you do it anyway.” 

“Fail with your whole heart,” Nora quotes softly, and Charlie squeezes her hand.

“See I could’ve never come up with something like that, but god, your mom…” Charlie wipes at her eyes with a cloth napkin and smiles. “She was born to be writer. When I got my first interview with the Pentagon, I had less than 24-hours notice. I was living in New York at the time, and I’d need to hop on a train and hope I could find a hotel for the night when I got down there."

"Honestly, I thought about not going, but your mom sat me down and said, ‘Charlotte,’” and Charlie straightens her spine and does her best impression of her sister, “‘You get your bony ass to Grand Central, and I’ll call every damn hotel in DC and find you a room. You got the interview, and now, all you have to do is follow through and take the leap.” 

“And you did,” Nora finishes. “You did the interview, got the job, and the rest is history.” 

“I did. I followed her advice. I decided that if I was going to fail, I should do it bravely.” Charlie squeezes her hand once more and lets it go. “It’s your turn now, sweetie.” 

Nora goes to the bathroom to clean up her mascara and when she comes back, Charlie is signing the check.

She checks her watch. “It’s almost five o’clock. Do you want to head over to Penny’s?” 

“Give me one second.” Nora reaches for her purse and pulls out her phone. “I have to call someone back.” 

Penny Benjamin lives in a beautiful house in La Jolla that looks like something out of Architectural Digest magazine. 

A classic California bungalow with off-white siding and wide blue-trim windows and a garden wrapping around the side, summer green dotted with pinks and yellows and reds; on an elegant cliffside, overlooking the Pacific. 

It’s a good half hour from San Diego so when Nora and Charlie arrive, the street is lined with cars.

Last week, Nora asked Admiral Simpson for a full list of everyone who’d been on the base during the making of the documentary and forwarded the names to Penny for the wrap party. When Admiral Simpson asked her why she needed them and she explained – she wanted anyone who’d so much as stood on the tarmac while she’d been filming to be included in the celebration – she could’ve sworn he looked a little impressed. 

Still, Nora is surprised to see him in the garden, chatting with Admiral Bates with a beer in his hand, a pretty woman next to him who must be his wife. 

“I’m gonna go say hi to Warlock and Cyclone,” Charlie says, patting Nora’s shoulder, and Nora nods and watches her go.

She doesn’t see Penny anywhere so Nora goes into the house and finds her in the kitchen. She gives her a quick hug and hands over a bottle of Prosecco – which Charlie had insisted on stopping for on the drive because Charlie couldn’t possibly show up to her ex-boyfriend’s current girlfriend’s house without an expensive bottle of something. 

“What am I?” Charlie asked. “Some kind of asshole?

“Oh, Nora,” Penny gasps, hand fluttering over her heart. “This is your party. You didn’t need to bring me something.” 

“Oh please. Charlie’s outside. It’s from both of us,” Nora waves her off as Penny admires the bottle. It was the prettiest one in the store. “Thank you so much for doing this by the way. Your house is so beautiful.” 

Now, Penny’s the one to wave her off. “No, no, I was happy to do it. We’ll all miss having you around, even Pete. He probably won’t say it himself, but I’ll say it for him.” Nora smiles widely, and Penny shoos her out of the kitchen. “I’ll open this up and bring it out, but you get your butt outside and enjoy the party.” 

Obliging, Nora makes her way back outside. 

A makeshift bar is in the middle of the garden, and Nora finds her aunt pouring herself a glass of wine.

“Come on,” Nora nudges. “You can meet some of my friends.” 

They make the rounds around the garden. She introduces Charlie to Natasha, who looks as starstruck as Nora has ever seen her. 

Shaking her hand firmly, Natasha asks, excited, “You were Maverick’s instruction at Top Gun, right?” 

“One of them,” Charlie answers coolly.

“You knew Viper then? And Iceman?” 

“I did.” 

“So cool,” Natasha breathes, and Bob nudges her with a small, side smile.

“Charlie,” Bradley calls out and rushes over to give her a big hug, lifting her kitten heels off the ground. It’s been a few years since Bradley last saw Charlie so Nora’s not surprised that Bradley and Charlie have a lot of catching up to do. She’s happy to listen and chime in every so often. 

Awhile later, Bradley leaves to grab another plate of food, and gaze sweeping across the garden, Charlie turns to Nora and asks, unexpectedly, “Are you going to introduce me to your boyfriend?” 

Nora manages not to blush. She raises her brows. “I would if I had one.” 

“Really?” Charlie asks, like, Is that the story you’re going with? “Then, who’s that handsome man over there making moon eyes at you?”

Shit.

Nora looks over, and sure enough, even in the middle of a conversation with Javy, Mickey, and Reuben, Jake doesn’t seem to be paying one damn bit of attention to anything coming out of their mouths. His eyes are on her. Always on her. 

She bites back a smile. And beckons him over.

He crosses the garden in a few long strides and after Nora introduces him (“This is my aunt, Charlie Blackwood.”), Jake greets her with a nod and an extended hand. “Jake Seresin, ma’am.” 

“Jake,” Charlie repeats with recognition. “It’s nice to finally meet you.” 

Finally? Nora frowns slightly. She’s never mentioned him before this afternoon.

His lips part in a wide, charming smile. “Likewise, ma’am.” 

Charlie looks amused. “You don’t have to keep calling me ma’am.” 

“He’s from Texas,” Nora offers like an explanation, a little too quickly, and Charlie’s arched brow makes her cheeks grow warm. She avoids her eyes, squinting at the horizon and pretending to be fascinated by the gulls over the beach. 

Charlie’s not fooled. She smirks and asks, “Texas, huh? What part?” 

“Austin,” Jake replies. It’s a visible effort not to add ma’am at the end. 

“You don’t say. Did Nora ever tell you that my husband John went to UT Austin?” 

A spark lights up his eyes, and Jake seems to be doing fine on his own so Nora leaves him alone to grab another drink in the midst of an in-depth discussion of the Texas Longhorns. She spots Ethan and Chris on her way back and gets pulled into a conversation with them, saying goodbye and wishing them luck in their next projects in case Nora misses them later.

When Nora returns, Jake and Charlie are still talking. She must like him.

Jake smiles at Nora and in his brown sugar voice, says, “I’ll let you enjoy the rest of the evening with your niece, ma’am. She’s pretty spectacular.” 

She could kick him. Or kiss him. Or both. 

“She is,” Charlie agrees. “Nice to meet you, Jake. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you.” 

She could kick both of them. 

When Jake is out of earshot, Charlie comments, “He’s very charming.” 

Nora almost laughs. “I know.” 

“He likes you.” 

She does laugh now. “Believe me, I know.” 

“He’s the one who called me,” Charlie adds casually, and Nora whirls on her.

“What? You said Captain Mitchell called you.” 

Charlie shakes her head, smiling, a knowing smile. “Pete was the one who forwarded me the invite, but Jake called me.” A chuckle. “He called me ma’am on the phone too.” 

She smiles despite herself because of course.

“What’d Jake say? What made you come?” Nora asks.

“He said that you needed me and you probably wouldn’t call me and tell me that outright, but you were having a hard time.” Charlie looks at her sidelong, lips curled at the ends, a dimple in her cheek. “He knows you pretty well, your not-boyfriend.” 

Nora looks for him again. 

She finds him on the other side of the garden, laughing at something Bradley is saying, hair a golden halo in the summer evening sun. He called Charlie. She never asked, never needed to ask. He just… knew.

And Nora falls a little bit in love with him right then and there; in the same way a little bit of rain falls on your window at the beginning of a mid-August storm. 

A preview before an inevitable downpour. 

Evening begins to blend into night, and Nora sits on the steps of the porch to watch the sunset.

It’s a good vantage point. She can see everyone and everything.

Bob brought a deck of cards and now, the Daggers are playing a game of Bullshit on a massive picnic blanket that Penny brought outside for them, and Penny’s daughter Amelia sits with them, giggling when Bradley loses and pretends to stomp off. 

Nora watches as Charlie goes over to Captain Mitchell and gently puts a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry about Ice. He was a good man.” 

Captain Mitchell nods, his mouth a line, emotion crinkling the corners of his eyes. “Thanks, Charlie.” 

He opens his mouth to say something else, but Nora looks away.

He gave her privacy earlier. She’ll return the favor.

A step creaks behind her, and Nora dips her head back to see Jake.

“Hi cowboy,” Nora greets, and Jake grins down at her.

He drops onto the step next to her, arm stretched behind her. 

“How’d it go with Charlie?” Jake asks.

“Good,” Nora says. She rests her chin on her palm, her elbow on her knee, and studies him closely. “She told me that you called her. How’d you even get her number?” 

“Bradshaw,” Jake replies. He meets her gaze and holds it, green on blue, sparkling like the ocean. “Seemed like, maybe you needed her.” 

Her chest aches, and Nora says softly, “Thank you.” 

His wide palm spreads across her leg, fingertips dangling to brush against the inside of her thigh. “How long’s she staying?” 

“A week. She changed her flight. She’s flying back to New York with me, instead of D.C.” 

Silence falls like an anchor, plummeting to the ocean floor. A muscle works in his jaw, like Jake’s chewing on his next words. “What happens now?”

For her? For them?

She doesn’t have all the answers, but Nora at least has this.

“How do you feel about long distance?” Nora asks, watching him carefully.

A smile flickers on his face as Jake realizes what Nora is asking. 

“California to New York? I can probably swing a few flights, cash in some miles.” 

She sets her hand over his, fiddling with his fingers. “That’s sweet, but I was actually thinking more like, North Island to here.” 

“Here?” He looks confused, adorably so, and Nora holds back a smile.

“Turns out that Charlie has some empty-nester friends here from her Top Gun days. They’re looking to rent out their guest house for the rest of the year. It’s not far from here actually, within walking distance of the beach.” She can feel her heart pounding like Nora’s running a marathon as Jake slowly start to understand. “I turned down the offer, Jake. I’m moving back to California.” 

She called Jenna from the hotel bar. She was a little bit annoyed with Nora, understandably.

Her first words were, “Are you kidding me? You waited until now to tell me this?” 

But after a few minutes of Nora’s apologetic I know, I’m sorry, I know, Jenna was ultimately supportive.

“Damn, Nora. This is a real loss for our industry, but I’m happy for you. If you never need a connection in Hollywood, call me. I know people who know people.” 

And one day, Nora might take her up on that, but right now, Nora needs a break. A real one. And California feels like the right place for her to take one. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed it  here until she came back.

“You’re staying,” Jake repeats slowly, like Jake’s afraid to believe her.

She reassures him with a nod. “I still have a storage unit back in New York so I have to go back, and I have a few things left at Charlie’s, but Charlie’s coming to help me clean it out and move what I need. And…” Nora drifts off and for once, the uncertainty doesn’t seem so scary. It’s wide open and hopeful. 

Jake wipes his hand down his face and sets his hand on his chest, right above his pounding heart, looking utterly relieved. “You’re… god, Hollywood, you’re gonna give a man a heart attack someday.” 

“You love it,” Nora teases.

He lifts his chin with his knuckle, holding her gaze. “I really, really do.” 

And when Jake kisses her, it feels like maybe he means something else.

Cheeks warm, Nora looks out at the horizon, and it’s that perfect time between day and night when the whole ocean is a watercolor of pale pink and purple. She kisses the carved dimple in his cheek and leans into his strong shoulder, and Jake tucks her under his chin, rubbing his thumb across her palm, over her heart line.

Breathing in the smell of the ocean and him, Nora closes her eyes and catches her breath.

end note: charlie, my beloved. i didn't mean for this to be so long, but i hope you enjoyed 🩵 likes are always appreciated, but comments and reblogs make my whole day. i love hearing from y'all.

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[allbark-no-bite]

Sit Still || Elvis Presley x reader

summary: you wonder how Priscilla was ever able to give up Elvis, because he’s got you falling apart on his fingers. literally

warnings: 18+ smut, it’s pretty filthy

word count: 3k

author’s note: thank you all so much for 300 followers. all of the love i’ve received is incredible and i love each and every one of you. please, send requests!

I lose Elvis in a whirl storm of guests and reporters, the Colonel parading him this way and that to shake hands and smile for photos. He had kept a close eye on me for a while, holding me to his side with an arm around my waist, pressing proud kisses to my hairline whenever anyone asked after me. But as the night wore on, I'd begun to linger behind more and more until the Colonel had finally urged him away from my side, dragging him to the next throng of cameras to be shoved in his face. Though reluctant to let go of me, I'd pressed him on, saying I would be just fine on my own for a while. Which was true, I was more than happy to watch him, all bright and brilliant smiles as he greeted those that he needed to and graced others with his presence.

I smile quietly to myself when Elvis lets out a hearty laugh from across the conference room, his eyes sparkling as he firmly grasps another man's hand. It was obvious to anyone that he was made for this life and all of it's glamour. It was likely that he hardly even noticed the lack of my presence after a few moments, too immersed in the bustle of what the Colonel like to call 'snow business'.

Now alone, I am finally able to breathe. Though I enjoyed the privileges that came along with being the girl on Elvis' arm, at the end of the day, I was not made for mingling with wealthy men, smiling, and carrying on small talk and nonsensical conversations for hours on end. It was truthfully exhausting and overwhelming.

"It gets easier, you know. You do get used to it."

I turn in surprise, looking to my side, not having expected to be spoken to. Of course, I knew that I wasn't alone in a room that was already full, but typically without Elvis by my side, I could usually get a moment or two of peace.

Priscilla smiles faintly at me in amusement, speaking again in her usual gentle manner. I'd never heard her speak louder than a soft murmur, and the delicacy fit every bit of her timid personality. "You're doing well though. Not many ladies can have such class."

Adorned in a elegant baby blue pant suit, the young woman is standing just a few feet away, as though undecided on whether or not she was going to approach me. I relax my shoulders, emitting a relieved chuckle at her compliment.

"I have big shoes to fill," I admit.

At my openness, Priscilla takes the unspoken invitation to join me, and we stand together, surveying the room. "I think you're doing just fine."

Now that we're shoulder to shoulder, I look over at her. I had only ever met Priscilla a handful of times. Most of them were because of Lisa, for holidays, but she'd been pleasant company each time. Her once jet black hair is now a fair brown, and her makeup light and natural looking—my own hair is long and dark, much longer than it's ever been, and my eyes are accentuated by thick strokes of eyeliner and dramatically applied smokey eyeshadow. She's possibly the most beautiful woman I have ever seen in my life, but just from the few moments in passing that I had spoken to her, it was obvious that it was her wonderful personality that Elvis had once fallen in love with.

We stand together quietly for a while, watching Elvis and his entourage from across the room. There's a cluster of young girls about him, all abiding for a second of his attention, and he gladly entertains their antics, tugging them close for photos and charming them with his smooth southern drawl. That was something I was still getting used to. There would always be girls. I just had to trust I was the only one.

Priscilla follows my gaze. There's a sort of sad smile on her face. "If you can take the heartache, he's worth it... But you know that," she relents.

I nod and bite the inside of my lip, willing away the surge of hurt and bitter feeling of betrayal that threatens to resurface. Because I know he is worth it despite all of his flaws and the hell he's put me through.

"He was the most fun I ever had," she says fondly.

Although her comment is nothing shocking—I was aware that there would always be unresolved feeling between them—it still sparks another inkling within me, one that I have shoved away many times. It was beyond me how Priscilla had seemingly managed to give him up so entirely. Elvis had consumed every part of my life, so much to the point that I knew it would be impossible to ever rid myself of him completely. And so a part of me still wondered if she was fooling all of us. Priscilla knew how to play a part, that I was certain of.

"He's doing okay now," I blurt out, having felt the need to say it, but instantly regret the words when they come out my mouth. "I–I mean just that he's gettin' better, you know... He's off the pills—for the most part... He's happy," I manage to conclude.

Priscilla just smiles warmly at me, that sad, distant look in her eyes. "I know... Good for you," she says softly, and it sounds genuine. Regretful, but genuine.

We lapse into heavy silence again. We're quite the pair, the two of us. The only women who had ever successfully captured Elvis Presley's heart.

The night goes on around us, but the animated and lively ambience of the room never dies down. At some point, well past midnight, Elvis manages to finagle his way out of any more politicking and makes his way over to me and Priscilla. There's a cheerful smile on his face, which only brightens when he spots Priscilla standing beside me.

"Cilla!" he exclaims while wrapping an arm around my waist, effectively pulling me to his side, and leans over to greet her. Priscilla graciously offers him her cheek to kiss, and he does so in stride. "The two of you girls aren't causing any trouble now?"

Priscilla smiles tightly after he's pulled away, her hands clasped together neatly in front of her. "No, just chatting. [Y/n] is wonderful company."

Looking down at me and then back to Priscilla, Elvis squeezes my hip affectionately. "The boys and I are about to sit down for a drink. Why don't ya join us, Cilla?"

I'm sure that at some point in her life, if Elvis had smiled at her like that, Priscilla wouldn't have been able to tell him no. But those days were in the past.

"Oh, I really can't stay. I left Lisa with the sitter, and I need to get home," she explains. "It was good seeing you, Elvis." Priscilla places a delicately manicured hand on my arm. "You too, [Y/n]." And then she's gone, leaving Elvis and I to ourselves.

The moment Priscilla is out of sight, Elvis is all over me, hands on my hips, cupping my cheeks and kissing me sweetly over and over again. "Been missin' ya all night, sweetness. The Colonel had me rubbin' shoulders with all the big names from the press, and all I could think about was you and this little skirt," he says.

I laugh, happily accepting his sudden onslaught of attention. Elvis had always been like this since we started dating, extremely touchy and affectionate, even in public. It didn't matter who was watching, he wasn't going to hesitate to slide his hand down to cup my ass in front of anyone, especially not at his own party.

"Well now I'm all yours," I promise, kissing his full lips once more.

He hums, chasing after my lips even after I pull away. This time I'm not quick enough, and he catches my bottom lip gently between his teeth, pulling me back in for another long kiss. I swallow back a groan. I'm sure people are staring at this point. That kiss seems to satisfy him enough, and so before it gets out of hand, he draws away, leaving my cheeks flushed.

I whine. "Elvis—"

"EP! C'mon, we've been waitin' on you for ages," Jerry calls from his spot at a large round table, one specifically reserved for Elvis and his entourage. Sonny and Red are kicked back around the table as well, which is situated in one of the further corners of the room, allowing for as much privacy as possible in the crowded space. It was often customary for Elvis to take to his inner circle at the end of the night, settle down and enjoy a cigar since he didn't drink himself. However, tonight, I was growing impatient having to share my boyfriend.

I whine when Elvis' large hand presses on my back to guide me towards the table. He stops in his tracks, laughing when he looks back at me. "What's gotten into you?" he grins. After taking in my flushed cheeks and pouted lip, his grin only grows. "Lord. Baby, don't you go lookin' at me like that. It'll do things to a man."

I crinkle my nose, jutting out my lip even more. I don't even have to say anything, he knows exactly what that look means. And the effect it's having on him is obvious. Elvis groans softly in his throat, readjusting the fit of his trousers. He eyes me and then the table. "Baby, please. Can't ya wait jus a lil' while longer?"

With the eyes of the Mafia still on us, I decide it best not to make a scene. Begrudgingly, I sigh and allow Elvis to lead me over to the table. As we approach, Red stands up, excusing himself to free up a second chair. I take the seat beside Elvis, smiling politely at Jerry and Sonny. I had come to love the men of the Mafia, they were like family to Elvis. And because I was Elvis' girl, they cared for me just as much. They learned to read me and my moods just as they did with Elvis, and  tonight they could tell that I was, in fact, not in the mood. Therefore, tonight, they keep most of their conversations directed towards Elvis.

The men's amiable chatter drags on for close to an hour, occasionally rising to an unreasonably loud volume when they roar with laughter. Chin rested against my palm, I listen with mild disinterest. Another ten minutes passes by until I decide that I have been patient long enough. Discreetly under the table, I nudge Elvis' calf with my foot, trying to get his attention. When he moves it way, unaware of my intentions, I huff to myself. Similarly, he's too caught up in his conversation with Sonny to notice when I kicked my shoe off. While keeping a bored face, I slide my toes up the inside of one of his spread thighs, stopping when I reach his crotch. That gets his attention.

Grunting at the contact, Elvis has to maintain his conversation in order to play it off. His hand grabs my foot under the table, squeezing it as if to say, 'behave'. Slightly vexed, I tug my foot back and he releases it. I wait for their conversation to mull on a while longer before I try again.

This time, Elvis doesn't release my foot. Instead, he scoots out his chair and turns to me. "On my lap, baby doll," he instructs. "And sit still."

Immediately subdued by his outright admonishment, I remain sat in my chair, my cheeks flushed an embarrassed pink. "I didn't—"

Elvis raises a brow at me. Jerry and Sonny exchange amused looks. When I realize that he's not giving in, I quietly get up and smooth out my velvet skirt, situating myself on his lap. With me now straddling his thigh, Elvis returns to the conversation.

"Now, as I was sayin', boys..."

Their conversation drags on for another half hour; however, my previous boredom has evaporated into heart-racing arousal. Elvis' free hand had disappeared under the table and my skirt a while ago and is currently toying with the fabric of my panties. Every so often his thumb will rub along the thin cotton, the contact just enough to send arousal pooling to my panties. The game he's playing is torturous.

My body tenses when he grazes the edge of my panties. Immediately, Elvis pulls away.

Instead his arms stretch out to either side of my body, and he clasps his hands around the edges of the table, caging me in like a feeble rabbit, it's tiny heart racing in the face of an unknown and impending doom. My body is a paradox within itself, both frozen with mortification and yet so hot to the touch with arousal that I'm sure I appear feverish.

His drawling voice is just beside my head. "Thought, I asked ya to sit still?"

Through the cloudy haze of my desperation, I can hardly answer. I make eye contact with the two men sitting across from us. Jerry slides back in his seat, cigar dangling from his fingertips as he watches us. His legs are spread wide, becoming comfortable as he settles in to enjoy the show. "Aw c'mon now, EP. Don' tease her."

Sonny has taken on a similar position, lounging back lazily as he plumes smoke from his mouth. He just chuckles and waves his hand as to ward Jerry off, well aware of Elvis' antics. "Eh," he mumbles from behind his cigar. "Leave 'em be."

Elvis nuzzles his nose into the space just behind my ear. His slightly parted mouth breathes out, washing over the tender skin at the crook of my neck. "Look at you now, sittin' all pretty fo' me," he croons sweetly. I imagine that his hooded eyes are partially closed with what can only be described as a look of nothing but pure, lust filled intoxication. "You don't mind, do you, darlin'? Sittin' here while we talk?"

I can barely swallow, my tongue heavy in my dry mouth. My mind is foggy, any coherent thought I'd ever had lost within a thick cloud of fog. There's nothing but my body, hot with arousal, and Elvis all over me. Everything else, the buzz of people surrounding us, a distant murmur. Somehow, while my head is swimming farther and farther away, my blown pupils lock with Priscilla's.

She's standing at a distance across the room, hidden amongst the chatter of people, watching the whole debacle unfold in Elvis' hands. Her hand is frozen around the door handle, obviously on her way out. Her gorgeous blue eyes hold mine as I struggle to keep hold of myself. Something in me panics, worried about what she might think, but I find nothing sinister nor judgmental in her stare as I first would have expected. All I gather is that of sadness and pity.

And that is when I finally see it all at her level. I finally get it. Because she got it. She understood what it was like to love Elvis Presley.

Even as Elvis' ex wife, Priscilla had expressed nothing but respect and well wishes for both Elvis and myself. At first, I had expected some resentment from her on my behalf. Because even though she had been the one to end things between them, it must have been undoubtedly hard to give him up. But she did. And that was the one thing that I had never understood. Until now. Even after all the hell he had put her through, she would always love him. Because Elvis was like a drug, all consuming and addicting. And Priscilla had decided to give him up before it killed her.

Now, this was her looking into a mirror and finding me in her same position. Priscilla could never bring herself to hate me because she was me—had been me. She was once the shy eighteen year old sitting on his lap, suffocating in his love. Her unwavering stare holds me captive until finally I have to looked away.

"Huh, darlin'?" Elvis hums against my ear, and bounces his knee, as though prompting me to speak. A whimper escapes my throat as the fabric of his trousers rubs just the right way between my legs. I must have missed the question because the two men across from us are looking at me expectantly with amused smirks on their faces. Although they many not know exactly what is going on under the table, they know Elvis is being a tease.

I nod and hope that it's an appropriate enough response. Sonny chuckles behind his cigar, but it must be the right answer because the mens' attention returns to talking. I sink back in relief.

"El," I whine.

Finally taking pity on me, Elvis lovingly kisses the shell of my ear. "Wanna come on my fingers?" he asks with a soft chuckle. Flushed, I nod. Under his breath, he groans something along the lines of, “God, you little minx...”

With Jerry and Sonny lost in their own conversation across the table, Elvis slips his hand back underneath my skirt and pulls aside my panties. I bite my lip to prevent a strangled moan from escaping me as his two fingers slide through my wetness, and he pushes them inside me without hesitation. While I attempt to pull myself together, Elvis is content to puff at his cigar, half listening to Jerry across the table. After a while, his patience becomes comically unbearable. I clench around him. Without warning, his fingers curl to stroke my velvet walls, and my legs tremble around his thick thigh.

When I lean back against his chest, unable to hold myself up any longer, the position gives Elvis just the right angle, and his fingers slide deeper than before. Although my body is too weary to even bother with a reaction, he knows he's found just the right spot, and continues the ministration of his fingers.

I can feel my arousal dripping down my leg, and I know it's making a mess on his black pants; though I doubt Elvis could care less about that. While I'm struggling to remain coherent with each stroke of his large fingers, Elvis is leisurely enjoying his cigar. Only his soft and mumbled praises reveal his mind is elsewhere. “So good… Fuck, baby.”

Another slow drag of his fingers, and the contrasting coolness of his rings sends me tumbling through an orgasm. He pulls me through it, still rubbing my walls through the aftershocks. Now overly sensitive, I almost cry at the stimulation.

Jerry eyes us from across the table, an eyebrow raised in amusement. “Ya okay there, [Y/n]?”

Thankfully, Elvis pulls his fingers away.

“Oh! Yes, I’m fine, Jerry. Just a little tired is all,” I answer with a soft smile, thinking I’ve reassured him. Behind me, Elvis is sliding his fingers out of his mouth with a pop.

[gucciwins]

Actors on Actors 

Y/N Belmonte and Pedro Pascal rave about each other's past projects and speak of what to see next for them.

Word count: 2670

A/N: Hi friends! It certainly has be awhile. This is an extra part to my story Love on Tour. This new piece is an insight to her acting and what her future looks like as she speaks with a friend. I chose Pedro Pascal because why not! and because he's great. Also because he's part of the Latinx community :) So please enjoy, I had fun with these. Remember if you want to see something about Bel and Harry just shoot me an ask <3

The Chilean and Mexican duo are one you have not had the pleasure of seeing on your screens, but that changed today (electronic devices for now). When Pascal and Belmonte were placed in the room together, they hugged like family and began chatting like old friends. That's because they were. They met at a party–that's all we got as neither of them could stop laughing long enough to tell the complete story.

Pedro Pascal and Y/N Belmonte got photoshoot ready. Pascal rocked a pastel pink suit that was tailored to him perfectly. While Belmonte wore a loose-fitting velvet green suit that complimented Pascal well. Each photo together ended with a laugh as they worked to make the other laugh. It was clear by how easily our photographer captured their photos how much they enjoyed being in front of the camera. Belmonte stayed behind the scenes cheering on Pascal as he was directed to each new pose. Pascal did the same but went up a notch, going full dad mode, screaming how proud he was and "to work it." It's safe to say these photos will become everyone's favorites.  

Pascal was quick to rave about Y/N Belmonte's acting and how she has a foot in every door for just about everything. Not Marvel, Belmonte was prompt to input. That reigns true, she doesn't say if she's auditioned or if she's been offered a role, but we're all waiting for the day another Latina graces the screen. Salma Hayek and Xochitl Gomez have got it covered, but hey, I'm sure Kevin Feige has a way to get my number if needed. Pascal laughs, stating he'd personally make a new role for her in his series, The Mandalorian. Belmonte assured him she could get her own roles, but she appreciated the offer. 

It was apparent they were big fans of one another. They went back and forth complimenting their latest work but also their earliest. It's easy to say you're a fan, but they clearly have a strong love for each other. 

Belmonte: The Mandalorian was a captivating series because your acting relied heavily on your voice and the emotion you had to convey. We went from a stoic Mando to seeing him care for Grogu as a father would. Going to the ends of different galaxies to protect and save his child. I was in awe because you did stunts and wore big armor, but the impact of you as an actor could be seen in your character. And with a third season coming, I feel honored to see you act. 

Pascal: Stop it. I'm serious. I'm twenty years your elder, and yet I feel that I am learning from you. The grace you hold—I swear you've probably had it all your life. The way you speak of me, I feel that I talk of you whenever I hear your name brought up, and if I'm not in the conversation, then I'll insert myself because I love talking about you with others. 

Pascal: She sings, dances, acts, and directs! What can't she do? 

Belmonte: Knit, it seems. Somehow everything I make ends up too big or too small. 

Pascal: Or has a weird hole somewhere. My sweater is a mix of this royal blue and light pink. 

Belmonte: In my defense, I ran out of yarn. You love it, though!

Pascal: I do. I do. It's made with love. You picked up knitting for your anxiety, right?. 

Belmonte: As much as I love acting, sometimes scenes require so much from me that I need a way to calm down, and focusing on my hands and a pattern is a way I found that helps. 

Pascal: It's important to look after ourselves. It might seem odd, but I agree. I can't knit, but it works for you. Just sitting in silence can go a long way. 

Belmonte: Self-care is underappreciated. Oscar taught me this fantastic breathing technique, which works wonders. 

Pascal: Speaking of, we share a common friend.

Belmonte: Oscar Isaac. 

Pascal: He's just marvelous and unforgettable. 

Belmonte: So funny. Always has me in tears, that man. I miss him.

Pascal: Moon Knight, that was brilliant. 

Belmonte: I was in awe. I knew he was great, but he just shined. I love his duality as an actor, taking on a role and making it his own. Marvel for going in a different direction of storytelling. Very beautiful.

Pascal: I visited him on set.

Belmonte: Me Too! 

Pascal: Not that Marvel knows.

Belmonte: I was never there. 

Pascal: We should have dinner or lunch or anything together.

Belmonte: I'm living in London now when I'm not busy filming, so if you or Oscar offer a guest room, I'm there.

Pascal: You're family. The door is always open. 

Belmonte: Pedro, I will cry. Stop.

Pescal: You are, pequeña.

Belmonte: I remember you invited me to a family barbeque, and I showed up with my chicken salad even though you specifically said not to bring anything. I was like, I can not show up empty-handed, and I know everyone raves over this dish I make. 

Pascal: My family raved about the dish for ages. They still do. Think a cousin of mine proposed that night. 

Belmonte: He did. He cried when his mother said no because he was only ten. I felt at home when I walked into your family, and I'll always be grateful because your family treated me as one of them.

Pascal: That is because you are part of the family. Remember when you introduced me to your boyfriend, I think he was scared.

Belmonte: H was nervous. I hyped you up so much, only for you to tease him for not bringing you some of his nail polish or sweaters. 

Pascal: It's nice. I will never say no to gifts. 

Belmonte: He was so red. I hadn't seen him blush that much since when we first started dating. 

Pascal: I did receive a package, though, with lots of his items. I was pleased. 

Belmonte: H asked me for your address, and I told him he didn't have to, that you were only joking, but he assured me he wanted to. A gift, he said, for being so kind to him and always looking out for me.

Pascal: I'm glad he didn't listen to you. 

Belmonte: He usually does. 

Pascal: Do people know who you're dating? Or is this just ominous?

Belmonte: People know, I'm assuming, and if they don't, I'm sure they'll just google it.

Pascal: Good old google.

Belmonte: Should we go back to speaking about your movies and shows? I've got lots to say.

Pascal: As do I. 

I feel your work speaks for itself. You're booked and busy, and I'm in awe of you. 

Belmonte: Pedro—

Pascal: No en serio. The rolls you take range differently, and you make them each your own. For example, you worked with a dialect coach in Queen Gambit's because of your accent and learned Russian. That's not easily done. You learn from those around you and treat everyone with the utmost respect. A testament that you're someone who surrounds herself with good people. 

Belmonte: I'm not crying, but if I were, that would be totally okay. I appreciate that; I really do. I admire you. I love seeing you on the big screen. That Hispanic culture is being represented. You're also very loved by the fans and the ladies. 

Your IMDb speaks for itself. You take rolls that don't fit any mold, which is fantastic. In Wonder Women 1984, you got to play a villain, but he was also a father. The duality you showed for the two greatest needs he was searching for were apparent, and that film ending speaks for itself. 

Pascal: Each character comes to life as soon as that camera rolls, and I just want to honor our writers and team. 

Belmonte: When I work on new projects, I always enjoy speaking with the screenwriter because I want to see their character's vision and what more I can do to make that a possibility. 

Pascal: I'll speak on this briefly because I can go on forever if you let me, and I know you won't, but your show, The Dance of Life, was one of the best. Taking that chance on a script that was based entirely on grief and allowing you the opportunity to put everything you have in there only made you better as an actor. I remember recommending the show for Oscar to watch, and he called me in the middle of the night, cursing my name for showing him the show. It's how Y/N met Oscar, actually.  

Belmonte: That show was healing in the strangest of ways. I'm no stranger to grief, and it wasn't until I experienced it did I realize that it's not linear or has specific rules one has to follow. I was allowed to bring that into the set and spoke with the writers and teams about what worked and didn't. To have them listen and appreciate what I was saying reminded me of the importance of this story. One of my proudest works to this day still.

Pascal: As did the world because that earned you your very first Emmy at twenty-three, making you the youngest to receive the award. 

Belmonte: You say that like a proud dad. 

Pascal: I am. Not your dad, but proud. I took you under my wing, and I'm here to support you in whatever way, knowing your life story. I feel like I'm repeating myself, but I'm very proud. 

Belmonte: That means–that means the world. For so long, I thought this industry would swallow me whole and felt that I'd have no support, but the support I have found is endless, and I'm grateful. This role opened many doors for me, and I will forever be thankful. 

Pascal: Are there any roles you miss? 

Belmonte: I don't miss the characters, but the crew. I feel like I make friends everywhere I go. For example, Alex is a costume designer I met on the set of my second film, and now I'm the godmother to his child. Frances was the head of engineering, and we meet up for coffee every time I'm in Atlanta. Helene is a beautiful friend who always helps at her daughter's bakery when she's not on set as a personal assistant. Taking the time and getting to know the crew makes for a great and safe work environment. 

Pascal: Remembering names and something about them is a joy because you see them for months on end, so of course, you want to remember them. It's essential that we're all on the same team. 

Belmonte: My mum always told me that kindness is given freely, but respect is earned. 

Pascal: Wise words. Mothers do seem to know best. 

Belmonte: Very true. H's mother is someone I go to for a chat sometimes when I need that extra support or unbiased view because I know she'll tell it to me straight. I'm thankful for that. 

Pascal: I'm glad you have that. If she ever gets sick of you, give my mother a call.

Belmonte: Doubt it, but good to keep in mind if she's ever too busy for me. 

Pascal: As if. I drop everything I'm doing when you call. 

Belmonte: Even when you're reading a script. 

Pascal: Even then, it means you're saving me from work. How do you practice remembering the script? I feel like my methods have changed over the years. 

Belmonte: I'll read the entire script when it's given to me, and then I'll go back adding notes for myself or others sometimes. When I first started, I'd memorized the entire script, and being so young, I felt like I had so much to prove. Knowing the script helped, of course, but knowing line for line doesn't allow for that element of not knowing what's coming to get yourself in your character's mindset. Now I just practice with others, and it seems to work well. My boyfriend practices with me. 

Pascal: Does it go well?

Belmonte: Nope. He is the sweetest. He's also an actor, got two films under his belt and two to be released this year, but I feel he's genuine in his acting, which isn't bad. Not at all, just that he acts with his heart on his sleeve. He allows himself to wear his character's emotion authentically because he hasn't differentiated the difference just yet. He is not good at lying, which is why his work is so excellent because he's giving himself away. 

Pascal: He's genuine. That's amazing; I will take notes when I see his films. 

Belmonte: He's a beautiful actor, but it's clear we have different styles. 

Pascal: Don't worry, this is just his side job. This field is yours, always has been.

Belmonte: Pedro! It's not even that. I hope he continues auditioning because he has so much potential, and I want everyone to see it as well. 

Pascal: He'd be perfect for a RomCom. 

Belmonte: He'd love that. 

Pascal: You'd love it. 

Belmonte: A true joy that would be.

Pascal: Cast him and you as the leading love interests. I'll be your father. 

Belmonte: And Oscar? 

Pascal: Your other father or a weirdly involved uncle. I don't know, we'll write him in somehow.

Belmonte: Someone, please begin with the script. 

Pascal: Contact our managers, please! Once it's ready, we're on board. 

Belmonte: You're wrapping up filming The Last of Us soon. 

Pascal: I am. It's been a great experience. The cast and crew I've had the privilege of working with had become family. It's important because you spent so much time with them and now we're all saying goodbye. I hope to see them soon or even work with them again.

Belmonte: Do you have something lined up next, or take a break and see what happens? 

Pascal: Roles aren't falling in my lap, Y/N. 

Belmonte: What!? No–

Pascal: Era una broma. Relajate. 

(It was a joke. Just relax.)

Belmonte: Pedro, I will call your mother after this. 

Pascal: No, I do like taking breaks. Sometimes I have something lined up, but this was over a year-long production. It's a series I am really proud of, and I feel like I deserve a break. You seem to go year-round. What were you working on early this year?

Belmonte: Foe in Australia with Paul Mescal, with whom I've had the pleasure of working. Finishing up the last few days of The White Lotus. 

Pascal: See what I mean, booked and busy. But you like it, I presume?

Belmonte: I love it. I love the go go go moments, but I have come to realize that I do need breaks in there. My boyfriend was a big help in developing that. I love having a reason to slow down because work is not everything at the end of the day. 

Pascal: He's got a fabulous job. 

Belmonte: It's something unique. We'll get you out to a show, promise. 

Pascal: The most important news dropped, I feel, was you being announced as Princess Irulan in the sequel of Dune. 

Belmonte: It was…it was very competitive. I thought I wouldn't get it. I was sure the call would not come, and to my shock, not to Viola, my manager; she was smug, stating she knew I was perfect for the role. We're set to begin filming at the end of summer. So I'm glad to look forward to that.

Pascal: The waiting is scary, I understand, but congratulations. The cast is already so excellent, so adding you on feels perfect. 

Belmonte: Everyone is kind, sent welcoming messages, and called me. I already feel very welcomed and am excited for what is to come. 

Pascal: What will you do now? 

Belmonte: Now? Get some lunch. My boyfriend is picking me up, you're welcome to join. We can practice his Spanish some more. 

Pascal: Well, I can't say no to that. 

thank you for reading!!!! if I tagged you is because I love you and you're part of this lovely stories tag list :)

taglist: @alienorknight @harry-is-my-sunflower @myfavfanficsever @springholland @michellekstyles @harryismyfwend @japanchrry @onlyamylee @golden-hoax @itsmycorneroftheinternet @thurhomish @thelovecayon @dontworrysunflower @shawnieeboyy

[helloalycia]

The Wrong Lifetime — Ten // Wanda Maximoff

chapter nine | story masterlist | main masterlist | wattpad | chapter eleven

author’s note: okay so this was supposed to be published yesterday but (if anyone cares lol), basically, i finished my last year of uni two days ago and so yesterday was the first official day i had that i didn’t have to do work, so i spent the whole day playing video games 😂 but it’s here now, so i hope you liked it!

Approaching Y/B/N's study, my annoyance returned when I remembered how he acted only an hour before. I didn't bother knocking as I let myself in, seeing him loosening his bow tie and looking out the window.

"What the hell was that?" I snapped instantly.

He sighed, yanking his bow tie off and throwing it to his desk. "What was what?"

I crossed my arms to contain my frustration. "You know what, Y/B/N." He continued to play dumb, so I watched him with a frown. "Why are you so against me getting published? I thought– I thought you'd be proud of me. It's all I've ever wanted."

With a scowl, he looked the other way. "I'm the writer, Y/N, not you."

His words created an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of my stomach. Jealousy was a disgusting look on him, one I never wanted to see.

"No," I said, uncrossing my arms and staring daggers at him. "You're not the writer. I am. You only got noticed because of me!"

"Shut up!" he shouted, finally meeting my eyes. "You don't get to do this! It's not about you!"

"Yes, it is!" I shouted right back. "For once, it is about me, Y/B/N! Because this is my chance to do something I love."

He rolled his eyes, getting riled up all over again. "And that's another thing. Why the hell are you putting silly ideas into my fiancé's head about making money? Are you trying to make me a fool in front of my in-laws?"

I squeezed my fists together, narrowing my eyes. "They aren't your in-laws."

"Oh, you know what I mean!"

He didn't deserve Wanda. He couldn't. She was too good for him.

"Sorry that your masculinity is so fragile that you can't let your fiancé do something she's passionate about," I said through gritted teeth.

He glowered down at me. "You need to butt out."

I smiled bitterly. "Maybe if you didn't start on Pietro for no reason, I would."

He scoffed. "Please. That man is only trying to get into your pants."

I don't think I'd ever wanted to strangle my brother as much as I did right now. Did he really not believe in me? He couldn't accept that maybe I'd earned this on my own accord? Thankfully, unlike him, I could contain my emotions and managed to swallow down my anger.

"You know that's not the case," I said with a dangerously calm voice. "You should talk about your soon-to-be brother-in-law with some respect."

Y/B/N sighed, moving to sit at his desk. I followed him with my eyes, unable to recognise who he was. I hadn't dubbed him for the insecure type, but I was being proven wrong many times tonight.

"I don't want to do this right now," he said quietly, sinking his head into his hands.

I uncurled my fists, fed up. "It's already been done."

He looked up, but I didn't wait to see his face. Maybe he wasn't the brother I thought he was.

—

"Honest opinion," Wanda said, before revealing herself from behind the curtain. "Nice or ugly?"

"Nice."

She smiled brightly, twirling around in the dress she was trying on, before going back behind the curtain to change into another one. She'd invited me over to hers to hang out, which meant watching her try on a bunch of new dresses and getting excited over each one. I wasn't complaining.

"So, that first book," she picked up from our previous conversation as she changed. She was referring to Y/B/N's first published book. "That was really you?"

"Yep." I pulled my legs up onto the lounge sofa and leaned on my hand, elbow propped on the back of the seat. "I mean, it got edited of course, but the initial manuscript was mine."

"Wow," she commented. "That must have really sucked to hear everybody praise it when it was actually yours."

"It did indeed."

She came out from the curtain wearing a dress that wasn't particularly nice looking. It had a baggy torso and slim legs, making Wanda look very unflattering. And that was saying something – she could pull off anything.

"Nice or ugly?" she asked, hands on her hips.

I squinted, tilting my head and trying to think if I should lie or not. Her blue eyes peered down at me intimidatingly and I knew I couldn't find it in myself to lie to her.

After a moment, I released a breath. "I'm sorry, love, but it's kind of ugly."

She chuckled, giving me a knowing smile. "Good. This was a test. Means you're paying attention."

"Wow. You think I'm just sat here for fun?"

She didn't respond, but an amused smile was on her lips as she headed behind the curtain to change yet again. It was quiet as she was changing, before she spoke up again.

"You know when we first met? And you showed me around your room?"

"How can I forget? You thought I was jealous of my brother," I quipped with a smile.

I could imagine the eye roll she was giving me. "That was before I knew you wrote half his stuff."

Stifling a laugh, I nodded even though she couldn't see me. "Okay, go on."

She sighed. "I told you how I fell in love with that first book. How I fell in love with the words. And the person who wrote those words.”

"I remember."

She reappeared from behind the curtain, this time wearing a stunning floral blue sundress. It fell off her shoulders, revealing cream-coloured skin and a well-defined collarbone. I smiled softly, overwhelmed with admiration for the beautiful woman before me.

"I'm glad it was you," she said, and I suddenly remembered we were in the middle of a conversation.

Her eyes sparkled brightly as she smiled my way, and then her words sank in and my heart fluttered with adoration.

"Me, too," I breathed out.

She held my gaze for a second longer before looking down at her dress, pressing her hands over it. "So. What do you think? Nice or ugly?"

I raised my eyebrows with astonishment. "Wanda, you look absolutely beautiful."

Her shoulders relaxed as her eyes flickered to mine. "So, I should keep it?"

I spluttered, "Duh!"

She laughed, before approaching me and sitting beside me. Leaning her head on my shoulder, she pulled her legs onto the sofa and sighed contently. I wrapped an arm around her, resting my cheek on her head.

"I'm glad you'll finally get the recognition you deserve, milaya (darling)," she said, lifting her hand to intertwine it with mine over her shoulder.

With an entertained smile, I held her hand firmly. "Maybe, love. I haven't said yes."

"Oh, you'll say yes."

I pressed a kiss to the top of her head, revelling in the warmth her body created as it pressed to mine. We had no concerns that somebody would catch us since nobody was home and the servants knew not to bother us.

"So, what was the book actually about?" she asked, playing with my fingers.

"Huh?"

"The book," she repeated. "I've heard Y/B/N's take on it, but what about yours?"

At the mention of my brother, I rolled my eyes. We still hadn't spoken since our argument and I wasn't exactly in the best place with him right now.

"It doesn't matter," I mumbled into her hair.

She used her elbow to nudge me gently in the stomach before grabbing my other hand and wrapping it around her waist.

"I like hearing you speak," she said softly. "And I love the way your mind works."

My cheeks flushed at the compliment, but I appreciated her words. She always had such an effect on me and I'd come to only care about one opinion nowadays – hers.

"Okay, I guess..." I sighed, subconsciously pressing my fingertips to hers. "The book is about a man who loses his wife to his own ignorance, right?" She hummed in agreement, so I continued. "Y/B/N always talks about how it's about a man failing to appreciate his wife, but that's not how I intended for it to be perceived."

Interest piqued, she sat up straight and turned around to face me, leaning her head on my chest and looking up with curious eyes. I smiled down at her, pressing a kiss to her nose, making her scrunch it up adorably.

"It's supposed to be about the wife discovering that she's her own woman and that she doesn't need her husband to be okay," I continued, holding her gaze. "It was her own self-discovery that pushed them apart, as well her husband's stupidity."

Wanda's lips curved into a gentle smile. "I like that interpretation a lot better than his."

Licking my lips, I breathed out through a smile. "You're biased, dear."

Her eyes flickered to my lips. "Maybe."

I chuckled before closing the gap between us, connecting our lips in a short, sweet kiss. She relaxed against me before smiling as we pulled away.

"Ya lyublyu vas (I love you)," she whispered.

I always loved when she spoke in her native tongue. She sounded so at peace when she did and it warmed my insides.

"I love you, too," I whispered right back.

She grinned, carefree, before turning to lean on my shoulder again. I held her, enjoying the silence that formed between us. Her presence was always enough and I never wanted anything more. But I knew Wanda and I knew that she couldn't stay quiet for too long, so something was definitely up.

"What are you thinking?" I asked quietly, not wanting to startle her in case she was too deep into her thoughts.

She sighed. "It's stupid."

I smiled. "I doubt that."

It went quiet and I assumed she didn't want to share, but then she played with my fingers again as she spoke.

"I was wondering what it would be like if we were able to get married," she murmured. "With the dresses and walking down the aisle and the rings."

I laced my fingers through hers, the thoughts having crossed my mind at times, too. It was nice to think 'what if', but it was also a dangerous game.

"The wedding cake would have to be chocolate," I played along, not wanting her to think she couldn't talk about it.

She snickered, loosening up in my arms. "Of course. And the colour scheme would have to be red."

"Definitely," I agreed, knowing she wouldn't have it any other way, "...it could be somewhere small but comfortable. Surrounded by nature, maybe."

"Yes. With flowers all around us and the sound of birds tweeting in the trees."

A comforting smile crept on my lips as I closed my eyes, imagining it in my mind. What a beautiful day it would be.

"I'd force Pietro to be the ring bearer," she added as an afterthought, and I laughed, chest moving up and down with her on it.

"He'd hate that," I pointed out.

"Exactly," she said with a mischievous hum.

I rolled my eyes playfully. "What about afterwards? Where would you want to live?"

She scrunched her face up before settling with, "Somewhere remote. Away from people. Maybe a nice cottage somewhere."

Nodding in agreement, I said, "We could have a beautiful garden in the back. I'd do my very best to make it perfect for you. And you could paint whatever you wanted there."

A considerate smile tugged at her lips at the thought. "Yes! And we could get a pet. I've always wanted a pet."

"I guess we could... what pet do you want?"

With no hesitation, she said, "Chickens."

I looked down at her, quirking a brow. "Chickens?"

Looking up at me, she stared like it was self-explanatory. "They're cute and they lay eggs. Think about it. Fresh eggs for breakfast every morning."

God, she was so cute. I smiled, squeezing her hand. "Chickens it is, love."

She got excited as she tugged on my hand. "You can finally get a study of your own!"

"And you can get your own studio," I added, making her grin.

"And I'd keep it sparkling clean."

I laughed, shaking my head. "Don't lie, Wanda."

She rolled her eyes, though wore a humoured expression. "Okay, maybe not..."

"You can keep it as messy as you want," I promised her, as if it was actually going to happen and we'd get what we wanted.

The dream was so vivid in my mind that it could have been a memory. Wanda and I living together, peacefully and without hiding... if only we weren't in the wrong lifetime.

"I like to pretend that you gave this to me," she said after an unsettling silence fell upon us, raising her left hand for me to see. She wiggled her ring finger, the silver band and emerald gem glinting in the light. "It makes me feel better."

I swallowed hard and forced a smile, intertwining my fingers in hers and bringing them to my lips to kiss gently.

"Technically I picked it," I reminded her to lighten the mood, but it didn't work.

A sad smile appeared on her face. "Maybe in another lifetime, we could have met in a world that allowed this."

My smile faded into a frown at her words. Like I said, considering the 'what if's' was a dangerous game, and we'd already played too much of it.

"You're going to marry my brother soon," I said quietly, the realisation hitting me. "This– us, will have to stop."

She sat up and turned to face me, eyes looking between mine as she shook her head. "It doesn't have to."

I rested a hand on her cheek and she leaned into it, kissing my palm. I savoured the feeling of her lips against my skin.

"What we're doing isn't fair on either of us," I said reluctantly, afraid to say what we'd avoided for as long as our relationship lasted.

She frowned. "I'd rather have you like this than not at all."

My heart ached because I knew she was being genuine, and the truth is, I felt the same. But that brought me to our next dilemma.

"It's not fair on Y/B/N either."

She tensed her jaw. "The world doesn't want us together, Y/N. They're the ones who forced us to be like this."

"Like what?" I asked with knowing eyes. "Cheaters?"

Her eyes glossed over and it broke me to see her so hurt.

"Is it really cheating if I never wanted to be with him?" she asked with a shaky voice. "If I'm only acting out of duty? If I never loved him?"

Realising I'd saddened her, I moved forward and pulled her in for a hug, running my hand down her hair and to her back. "Sorry... I didn't mean to make you upset."

She sniffled and I felt her tears soaking my shirt. "Don't talk like that... I don't want to lose you."

I swallowed hard, nodding into her shoulder. "I don't want to lose you either, Wanda."

But I knew that deep down, we couldn't hold onto everything we wanted to in life. Deep down, she must have known that, too.

—

"...and this is where we write up the contracts. It's where we'd write up yours if you say yes."

Pietro grinned cheekily as I gave him a knowing look. He was showing me around the publishing house – a proper tour, not just me lurking around on the few visits I'd been here for Y/B/N – with hopes of convincing me to sign a contract with him.

"Pietro, you said you wouldn't be biased," Wanda warned, and I gave her a grateful smile as Pietro chuckled.

"I'm sorry, I can't help it," he apologised, though he definitely didn't mean it. "I just really think you'd be a great fit here, Y/N. I already have editors willing to work with you based on the few pages they've seen of your work."

I raised my eyebrows, startled. "Wow, seriously?"

He nodded. "Most definitely. As I told you the other night, you're talented. And with my help, you can be successful, too."

A smile fell on my lips uncontrollably. A real editor wanted to work with me. Woah.

"I'm gonna get some coffee," Wanda said, squeezing my shoulder. "I'll get you both some, too." She wagged a finger towards her brother. "Don't pressure her whilst I'm gone."

He raised his hands in defence. "Okay, calm down, sestra (sister). I'll be fair."

She lowered her finger, shot him a final look, then smiled at me before leaving for the café next door. I chuckled at how cute she was and how much she cared before returning my attention to Pietro.

"I won't pressure you," he said to me, perching on the edge of an empty desk. "I just want you to know that you'd be well looked after here. I wouldn't let anyone talk down to you, nor treat you with disrespect because you're a woman. I don't condone that here."

I relaxed at his words, offering him a grateful smile. "Thank you, Pietro. That really means a lot."

He returned the smile before his gaze moved over my shoulder. Smile fading, he cleared his throat awkwardly and looked away. I turned around, curious to what had caught his attention, and then I saw Y/B/N standing in the doorway, looking around for something. His eyes eventually fell on me and he perked up before heading our way.

I hadn't spoken to him since two nights ago after dinner. He'd actively avoided me, too and I wasn't complaining, having still harboured an unexplainable anger for him. What was he doing here?

"Y/N, hey," he said awkwardly, stopping before Pietro and I. His eyes flickered to Pietro before he asked me, "Can I speak with you?"

Instinctively, my jaw clenched and he seemed to notice as he shook his head quickly.

"Not to argue," he clarified. "Just to talk."

His eyes were pleading and I couldn't find it in myself to deny him. He was my brother after all, we couldn't argue forever. Nodding wordlessly, I smiled apologetically to Pietro before following Y/B/N to a quiet side of the room. My eyes ran along the many employees working away at their desks before falling to my brother before me.

"What is it?" I asked, maybe a little too harshly, but there was no going back now.

He frowned, eyes flittering around nervously. "I want to apologise for my behaviour the other night. I shouldn't have acted how I did."

I hugged myself as I shifted my weight between my feet. "Okay."

"You were right," he continued, finally meeting my eyes. "You deserve this. You've always been there for me, helping me with my writing when I needed it. I should have reacted better, but I let my jealousy get the better of me."

My mouth opened, surprised at his apology.

He offered me a sad smile. "The truth is, Y/N, we both know you'll be the more successful of us both. And you'll be so preoccupied with your own writing that you won't be able to help me anymore. And it was selfish of me to think that first, but I did. And I shouldn't have. I'm sorry. I'm your big brother and I should've been better."

Chewing on my lip, I let go of waist and straightened up, nodding slightly. "I– thanks. Thank you. For telling me that."

His shoulders relaxed as he nodded. "Also, you were right about what you said about Wanda. And I'm going to apologise to her first thing."

My expression softened at the mention of the girl who'd only ever been good to us. "She's seriously talented, Y/B/N."

"I know."

I nodded, stepping forward and resting a hand on his shoulder. Looking between his eyes, I only saw regret and I knew he was being genuine with his apology.

"You're forgiven," I told him with a small smile, before pulling him in for a quick hug.

He returned it and I felt relieved to know he was supportive. I didn't see a reason to not accept Pietro's deal now... everybody I cared about was okay with it.

"Wanda is here by the way," I told Y/B/N when we pulled apart. "She's just getting some coffee for us."

He nodded and we returned to Pietro, who gave me a concerned look. I smiled reassuringly and he relaxed before looking to my brother with a smile.

"Hey, Pietro, sorry for what I said last night," Y/B/N was quick to say. "It wasn't cool. I know you're not like that and I shouldn't have even thought it, let alone said it."

Pietro was one of the chillest people I'd met as he offered his hand out to my brother. "No worries, mate. Bygones."

They exchanged a handshake before my brother glanced to me.

"She's really good," he said to Pietro. "You'd be lucky to have her here."

My face heated up as Pietro nodded in agreement. The two of them looked to me with proud smiles and as uncomfortable as I felt with the attention, I was grateful to have their support.

"I know," Pietro said. "All she's got to do is say yes."

"You haven't said yes yet?" my brother asked with disbelief, before slapping me on the arm playfully. "Y/N! This is your chance!"

"And it's a big decision!" I reminded him.

He looked like he wanted to say something, but then I caught sight of Wanda over his shoulder and perked up. She smiled my way but then noticed Y/B/N's presence and proceeded with caution.

"Hey, I got you both a coffee," she said, giving Pietro his and handing me mine, but her eyes were searching mine with worry.

My hand brushed hers as I accepted my coffee and I squeezed it reassuringly. She seemed to believe me as her lips twitched into a small smile before looking to Y/B/N.

"Hey," she said to him quietly, biting her lip.

He glanced to me for encouragement and I gave him a subtle thumbs up. This seemed to help as he wiped his hands on his trousers before looking to Wanda hopefully.

"Hey," he finally spoke. "Please can we talk in private for a moment?"

She nodded, humming in response, and followed him to talk.

"Match made in heaven those two," Pietro said sarcastically, and I tried not to laugh, but damn was it funny.

"Look, I think I've made a decision," I said after a moment, feeling my heart speed up at the realisation of my next words.

"Oh? And what is it? Will you let me publish you?" Pietro asked, quirking a brow and watching me with an excited smile.

Well, there was only the future to look forward to now.

I grinned. "Yes."

[ficninja]

A Beautiful Night Indeed

So I did a thing...

I wrote a Penelope and Colin fic! I haven't written anything in so long that I seriously surprised myself. I just couldn't help it, I've become so obsessed with them. I wanted to post it here for anyone interested in reading. It's an extended scene I guess, a wish fulfillment if you will, of what I wanted to happen after their dance at the Vauxhall Ball in episode 01 "Diamond of the first water."

Pairing: Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington Summary: Colin is protective of Penelope after Cressida spills her drink on her. Colin doesn't want to let go of Penelope's hand after their dance. Colin is confused about his feelings and Anthony calls him out on it. Colin wants more than anything for Penelope to trust him

A Beautiful Night Indeed

It was a beautiful night. Penelope had arrived to the Vauxhall ball a half an hour early with her Father and sisters. They were just in time to see the lighting of all the torches surrounding the expansive gardens right as the Sun began to hang low in the ever darkening sky…

Standing near the orchestra dining area, watching the dancing begin, Penelope looked around avoiding being spotted by one of her sisters. She was surprised when she heard Colin say her pet name.

“Pen…” Colin approached Penelope. He never had trouble finding her in a crowd. He was constantly captivated by her stunning red hair. Her hair beckoned him like a glowing fire, his eyes always drawn to the beauty of the permanent sunset. She was standing alone expectantly, he surmised she was looking for someone.

“Colin…” Penelope sighed adorably which made him smile to himself. She had the cutest voice, he had always thought so.

“I did not know you would be here.” Penelope was pleasantly surprised to see him. His height towering as he walked closer, making her feel small and delicate by comparison.

“Sorry to disappoint.” Colin teased, causing her to smile. She was never able to resist this pull he had on her.

“Have you seen Miss Thompson?” He inquired. Miss Thompson had many suitors and Colin supposed he should try to get to know Penelope’s cousin a bit more, lest his interest wane.

“She is ill.” Penelope informed him, a bit dispassionately, her smile faltering. “My mamá had to stay home with her.” She continued. “Papá had to chaperone.”

Colin looked over his shoulder to see Mr. Featherington enjoying a refreshment and in an animated discussion, completely unobservant of his youngest daughter.

Colin turned back to Penelope giving her his complete attention, the inquiry into her cousin’s whereabouts fleeting. He did not like that she was vulnerable without her Father’s gaze on her.

“I’m quite enjoying the fact that he is here.” Penelope’s smile picked back up and Colin recalled that she enjoyed spending time with her father… away from her neglectful mother.

Mrs. Featherington should be there as well, Colin thought to himself. This was Penelope’s debut season. What mother, wouldn’t accompany a daughter as sweet and innocent as Penelope everywhere?

“Mamá would never allow me to wear a dress like this.” Penelope’s smile brightened the darkened garden even more. “Not yellow enough, I think.” She giggled self-deprecatingly.

Colin had taken note of how especially lovely Penelope looked that night. Although it was hard for Penelope to look bad, given her cute face and enchanting hair, her mother seemed to be trying to detract from her looks with every yellow frock she forced on her. He would acknowledge that according to Eloise having a nice face and pleasant hair should not be considered an accomplishment. But given the lack of genteel stock in Penelope’s lineage, it was indeed a glowing accomplishment in contrast to her older sisters, at least according to Colin’s preferences.

Before Colin could genuinely compliment Penelope’s dress, Cressida Cowper appeared and interrupted their conversation. Accompanied by her entourage of ninnies, they pushed between he and Penelope.

“Mr. Bridgerton...” Cressida’s voice really grated on Colin’s nerves. “I believe you owe me a dance this evening. And I only have one more space remaining on my card at present.”

“How convenient.” Penelope observed, her words so softly spoken that Colin almost… almost didn’t hear her. But her tremulous voice carried over to Colin. It was like a melody… a song only for him in contrast to Cressida’s.

Cressida thrust her dance card out to her side and simultaneously spilled her drink on the front of Penelope’s dress. “Penelope, I did not see you there!” Cressida feigned shock.

Penelope gasped in sheer mortification, turning away from them as the blast of cold liquid slid down her chest. She looked down to check her dress, thanking heaven that the drink was clear and would not stain. Penelope felt heat color her cheeks and her eyes began to water. She was so proud of the way she looked that night and to have this happen to her at Cressida’s hands and in the presence of Colin no less, she thought she would pass out from the humiliation.

Colin glared at Cressida. How dare she attempt to injure Penelope’s person with that drink and right in front of him. He thought to himself, if Cressida was not a Lady and barely one at that… His anger peaked at the mental image of what he would do. His nostrils flared at her before he turned his attention back to Penelope.

“I’m afraid I cannot offer you that dance, Miss Cowper.” Colin’s voice barely remained courteous. “I am to escort Miss Featherington, to the floor.” His decided rejection of Cressida caused Penelope to turn around, astonished.

Penelope’s blue eyes, glossy with embarrassment, met his. Colin had a fierce look on his face. Determined he was, not to allow anyone to mistreat her in his presence. He reached for Penelope's gloved hand, slipping her tiny feminine satin-clad fingers through his larger masculine ones, as he glared once again at Cressida before escorting Penelope away and onto the dance floor.

Colin spun Penelope into position just as the spirited dance started. His fingers glided across the brocade material along her upper back. Her soft tresses skimmed across the back of his hand… This was one of Colin’s favorite dances and he smiled down at her excitedly. Penelope was an amazing partner. The embarrassment caused by Cressida eased from her eyes and she matched his enthusiam for the dance. The eager smile on her face as he spun her around caused an ache to invade inside his chest. The protectiveness he felt moments ago seemed to increase ten fold and everything inside of him wanted that smile to remain on her face for the rest of her life.

When the dance ended, Colin found himself irrationally thinking of a reason to keep Penelope's hand in his. An illogical impulse, given it would be improper since he was not officially courting her. The reminder to himself, that he was not in fact courting Penelope Featherington, but had expressed an interest in her distant cousin caused him to be inexplicably confused and annoyed with himself. The annoyance he felt was upsetting to him and he clenched his jaw in vexation. Just as he was about to convince himself to let her go, the announcement began…

“Ladies and Gentleman, a most extraordinary event is about to take place.

Right this way!

Come! Come!”

Colin looked down at Penelope just as she gazed her startled blue eyes up at him. Just looking in her eyes soothed away his baffling aggravation. He smiled at her mischievously as he pulled her along side him continuing to hold her hand. Definitely not letting go of her now.

Penelope was delighted that Colin wanted to continue their time together at the ball. The way he looked at her during their dance… she knew it was just a result of his protective nature. She believed he was genuinely outraged by Cressida’s behavior toward her. But his continued attention made her heart soar, even more than usual, just from being around him. A sort of magic seemed to envelop them, almost as if Colin was finally seeing her as a woman and not like a little sister. Penelope worried that the let down from reality settling around her again would break her heart irreparably.

“Come along, Pen. We must not miss this most extraordinary event!” Colin continued to grin at her as he pulled Penelope along.

Colin spotted an open section near the edge of the crowd and stopped there. It was a bit darker there, secluded away from the torches, and he couldn’t make out everyone around them. He tugged Penelope a bit closer in front of him as more people surrounded them.

He noticed that she trembled a bit, so he leaned down near her ear. “Are you ok, Pen?”

Penelope was looking forward to the show, whatever this would be, but she had never been quite comfortable with the dark or with surprises.

Penelope felt Colin squeeze her hand and she looked up at him. His blue eyes warm with concern. “Yes, I’m ok. It is just a bit scary is all.”

Colin smiled at her then and her heart skipped a beat. “Everything will be ok. I’m right here. I would not let anything bad happen to you.” And she knew, she could feel that Colin meant it.

“Do you trust me, Pen?” He asked, holding her gaze fervently.

Looking into his eyes so close to hers was intoxicating and Penelope began to feel a little unsteady on her feet. She swayed a little as she answered him. “Y- Yes, o-of course I trust you, Colin.”

Colin noticed that she stuttered a bit, but she seemed to get her bearings.

“Good.” Penelope’s assurance that she trusted him, did something to his insides and Colin felt unbalanced.

The announcement picked up again…

“It is with great privilege I present Vauxhall’s newest spectacle of illumination. Feast your eyes above and allow all that is radiant to overwhelm you!”

Penelope squeezed Colin’s hand just as the lights illuminated all at once above them. They were surrounded by the glass bulbs! The brilliance was magnificent. The sudden amazement caused Penelope to step back into Colin. His chest cradled her head and his other hand, that wasn’t holding hers, grabbed her waist to steady her.

The MC continued,

“Wonderful Light! Thank you!”

“Its alright.” Colin murmured softly into her hair. She smelled like orange blossoms. Colin could not keep himself from breathing her in. He wondered if it was just her hair or if she smelled of the fragrant flower all over her body. The hand holding her waist moved unconsciously to the ends of her rosy hair, his fingers delicately caressed the softness of her strawberry locks. Colin’s mind was muddled, he closed his eyes in contentment, memorizing the texture of her hair. He couldn’t think straight. He had to stop himself from dropping a kiss to the top of her head, the need to be a comfort to her began to outweigh his reason.

Penelope thought she imagined Colin’s fingers in her hair. The closeness of his body to hers was heady… She closed her eyes briefly, relishing in the warmth of him behind her. She inhaled at the pleasure of her current situation. She’d never been this close to Colin. The electrifying heat of his body pressed against hers was causing her to be incoherent. She began to breathe in shallow pants, her breaths coming quickly. Unsettled by her reaction to him, she moved away from him, letting go of his hand.

Colin felt the immediate loss of the warmth radiating from Penelope’s body pressed along his front. When she dropped his hand and moved away from him, he felt the grimace on his face and heard the growl in his throat. Desperate to have Penelope near again, he grabbed her hand and turned her to face him.

“Pen…” Colin spoke her name, not knowing what else to say, but also needing to stop her retreat from him.

Penelope looked down at her hand grasped in Colin’s, realizing that her glove had slipped off. “Oh…” was all she could say. The moment felt unmistakably intimate, him holding her hand again, this time bare.

“I’m sorry.” Colin apologized when he realized he’d unintentionally removed Penelope’s satin glove. “Allow me…” He bent down and retrieved her glove from the grass, her bare hand remained cradled in his the entire time.

His expression mischievous again, as he rose to his full height. “I guess I’m to keep it as a favour now.” Colin teased Penelope. He needed to take away the self-consciousness he saw in her eyes.

“Are you going off to battle then?” Penelope teased Colin back, unable to resist his ever present charm. She could think of no other time a lady’s favour was given.

“Well, there seems to be a fight for refreshments. And as a Gentleman, I will gladly enter the fray to procure something to drink for you, Pen.” Colin folded Penelope’s glove and slipped it into his inside jacket pocket finally letting her hand go reluctantly.

Colin looked down at Penelope adoringly. He couldn’t help himself, stepping closer to her, he whispered. “Wish me luck in battle?”

Penelope knew Colin was teasing her again, but he made her breathless. “Good luck.” She smiled and then she bit her bottom lip. “Promise me that you will return it me?” She looked pointedly to his chest where her glove rested inside his pocket.

Colin could only focus on the lushness of her mouth as she bit her full bottom lip, he was beginning to feel dizzy like he was spinning… spinning out of control. “You trust me, don’t you, Penelope?”

“Of course, Colin.” Penelope didn’t recognize her own voice. The huskiness of it, she couldn’t control as Colin inched even closer to her.

Colin bent down, next to her ear and whispered. “Good girl. Stay right here for me. I’ll be back.” He leaned in close enough that he smelled her intoxicating hair once more before he pulled himself away from Penelope and then walked toward the refreshments.

As Penelope watched as Colin walked away, his tall regal form a feast for her eyes, she noticed his brother Anthony walk up to him.

Colin was taking deep breaths to regain his composure as he walked away from Penelope. He felt a hand on his arm and turned to find Anthony with a stern expression on his face. He followed Anthony’s gaze to Penelope.

“She’s so young Colin… you need to try harder to conceal your… baser interests. Stop touching her so much. Don’t forget yourself. Penelope is a proper lady.” Anthony scolded Colin.

“I was not… I did not… for you to imply…” Colin couldn’t even form a sentence in his defense as twisted as his insides felt by his brother’s insinuations.

“Imply?” Anthony continued. “I saw. Your hand on her waist, apart from dancing. Your hand in her hair. The caress of her bare hand… and this could have been in the view of half the Ton. It is a wonder her father did not come looking for her and witness these improprieties or I would be making arrangements for you to court Penelope Featherington properly!" Anthony’s eyebrows raised in admonishment. “… and not expressing interest in her distant cousin.” The distorted expression on Anthony’s face spoke to how he felt about Colin’s fleeting interest in Miss Thompson.

“It will be a miracle if this is not in Whistledown tomorrow and I am not forced to have to make an offer on your behalf myself.” Anthony continued to reprimand Colin.

“Anthony, I would never do anything to scandalize Penelope!” Colin declared passionately. He could not even conceive of hurting her that way. He found that the thought of Anthony having to make an offer for Penelope’s hand on his behalf did not scare him and that lack of apprehension caused him uncertainty.

“I know that you would not, Colin. And I am not suggesting that you are. I am saying that your feelings... unacknowledged... for Penelope are maybe getting in the way of your… sensibilities where she is concerned.” Anthony pointed out.

“My feelings… for Penelope?” Colin was so confused. Penelope was his friend. He had not meant to be improper with her in any way. But he had begun to acknowledge in his mind and body that Penelope was becoming a woman… in every way. His reactions to her may very well be putting her in danger from him.

“Yes, Colin. I have eyes. I see you clear as day. You may not be ready to admit to or are even aware of how you feel about her. You do have feelings for her, not just emotionally, but now physically as well and you need to think about what you really want long term. Penelope has… developed a lush womanly form. Her curves are tempting to you, I see. Miss Thompson may be more mature and more able to handle your… physical interests right now, where as you would have to wait a while for Penelope to be ready for that.”

“Stop! Stop right now, Anthony. Speaking about Penelope in this way is improper and I will not engage with you any further on this.” Colin found his fists were balled up and his anger, at his brother was a tangible thing in his mouth… a vileness that he could taste. Anthony’s criticism of how he had handled Penelope and even more his comments on how her body had developed the curves of a woman, the kind of woman that Colin realized he was irresistibly drawn to, would be his undoing.

“See, you did not even mention Miss Thompson. Your irascible temper with regard to any perceived slight of Penelope…” Anthony spoke to Colin’s unexpressed feelings for Penelope, again. “All of that emotion… that is about Penelope Featherington.”

Colin clenched his jaw tightly and rolled his eyes at the truth of his brother’s perceptions. He balled his fists against his side as well.

“I am not telling you what to do, so do not look at me like that. I am merely pointing out that if you keep carrying on like this over Penelope and you keep finding yourself behaving in the manner in which you have tonight, you will not be in a position to make a decision. It will have been made for you. Does she not deserve for you to truly choose her? And loathe that I am of a match between you and Miss Thompson, I do not want you to have to contend with hurting her either.”

Colin took a deep breath before addressing his brother again. “Penelope is dear to me… so dear that I - I treasure her and our friendship. I would never hurt her intentionally, brother. That is all I’m willing to say on the matter. I do not wish to discuss Penelope with you any further here like she is the topic of some common gossip. I shall escort her back to her father, after the fireworks are over. Colin declared and then walked off, feeling immensely frustrated.

“See that you do, Colin.” Anthony called after him as Colin disappeared.

Colin turned from the refreshment table and spotted Penelope immediately again. His eyes seeking her siren hair. She had remained just as he had asked her to. A good girl for him she was indeed.

When Colin finally returned to her with refreshments, Penelope’s bright expectant blue eyes found his troubled ones.

“Is everything ok, Colin?” Penelope asked softly. “I saw you speaking with your brother…”

Colin smiled at her slightly as she drank her lemonade. He could not help it. She was so sweet, the most kind-hearted person he had ever known aside from his mother. Her concern mollified him. His anxiousness over his conversation with Anthony slipped away easily in her presence.

“Penelope, your dress is lovely tonight. I wanted to tell you that before Cressida showed up.” Colin could not help it, even after being cautioned by Anthony of being improper with her, he inched closer to her and took her bare hand in his again.

“Thank you, Colin.” Penelope sighed. The warmth of his hand surrounding hers made her breathless again. It felt almost as if Colin did not realize what he was doing.

“May I ask, how it came to be this rather fetching shade of pink and not yellow?” Colin teased her again. His eyes sparkling at her. They now looked the exact opposite of when he arrived with their drinks.

“Well, I was allowed to choose the color for myself, rather than mamá.” Penelope admitted. Her cheeks brightened to a beautiful shade of pink.

“You did well, Pen. It looks exquisite against your sun-fire hair and makes your porcelain skin look like the finest silk…” Colin looked down at her feeling inebriated, his voice betraying his ardor. His stomach flipped when he noticed her licking her pink lips before she spoke his name on a melodic sigh, again.

“Colin…” Penelope couldn’t believe he had actually described her that way… passionately… his voice filled with longing.

Colin raised Penelope’s hand to his lips, just as the music started for the next dance. He kissed the back of her fingers of her bare hand and Penelope was startled at the softness of his lips on her. She did not know what to say… She could not form words. All the breath had left her.

“One more dance, Pen? Before the night is over.” Colin requested. His eyes never leaving hers and her hand securely grasped in his. He didn’t have an excuse for his continued behavior with her and he found he didn’t care to continue to contemplate.

“I’ve never danced this one… in public.” Penelope admitted. She was so unnerved by Colin’s continued attention she would have agreed to anything at that point.

Colin smiled down at her, playfully. “Do you trust me, Pen?”

“Of course, Colin.” She assured him again on a sigh. “But this one is… what if I miss a step?” She was doubting herself and her ability to actually move after Colin’s kiss on her fingers.

“Penelope Featherington, you are an amazing dancer. You will be fine. He pulled her closer to the dance floor, but waited for her acquiescence. Colin looked her over as if he couldn’t bear for her to refuse him. "Please do me the honor?”

“Yes, Colin.” She smiled brightly at him. Her smile more luminescent than the globes of artificial light, her eyes sparkled more than the fireworks display. She even rivaled the stars that night as he spun her around and around on the dance floor.

It was a beautiful night indeed.

[professorrw]

Hey could I please request a LokixReader story set on Sakaar where they have an enemies to friends to lovers relationship? Lots of fluff and smut if that’s okay. Thank you xxxx

Lord have mercy is this long. I love the request (probably a little too much). I have to warn you before reading, it's 6.6K words, the longest fic I've written yet. BUT I love it. I'm really proud of it!

Pairing: female reader x Loki

Requested: Yes

Warnings: smut, 18+, praise, unprotected sex, fingering, enemies to friends to lovers, fluff, fighting (Hulk and Thor), spoilers for Thor Ragnarok, takes place during Ragnarok

A/N: And with this finished I'm going to take a day to myself tomorrow! I'm not feeling very well and I want to catch up on my series because I've been neglecting it. Requests open, taglist open, inbox open! Please like, comment, and reblog!

You could ask anyone on Sakaar who the Grandmaster’s favorite person was and they would say it was you. You grew up on the trash planet with your father, who was a reject from his home planet. But on Sakaar you were basically royalty. Your father befriended the million year old Grandmaster when you were just two and from then on you were living in the lap of luxury.

You weren’t sure how long you’d been on Sakaar, but it had been a few hundred years. You didn’t look that old, more like twenty to thirty. But there was no way to be certain with the way that time worked on Sakaar.

Your life was perfect in your opinion. You and your father were happy and healthy on the trash planet. Every day you would dress in your finest silk robes, adorn your flashy face paint, and go to the arena to watch fights. When you weren’t doing that you were in your home or with the Grandmaster, who was basically a second father to you.

It was the end of the day and you were eating dinner with the Grandmaster, your father, and some other ‘royalty.’ As typical with all meals held by the Grandmaster it was full of excited and animated talking and extravagant food. You were too busy drinking your wine to engage in conversation, unlike your father who hadn’t touched his plate in favor of speaking to the man next to him.

Your father was a very social man, probably why the Grandmaster took such a liking to him. They were equally as flamboyant and outgoing. the Grandmaster often remarked how much you looked like your father. You had the same hair color, eye color and shape, and skin tone. Though you couldn’t tell your father’s true hair color anymore because it had started greying, contrary to the rest of his body that wasn’t aging as quickly.

There was a knock at the dining room door and the Grandmaster called for whoever it was to come in. The noise had drawn everyones’ attention, and all eyes were on the man that was being escorted in. He was tall, with fair skin and raven black hair. He was the most attractive man you had seen in a while. He didn’t look like a lot of the men you saw, but he still looked elegant.

“Who is this?” the Grandmaster asked.

Instead of waiting for the guards to speak, the detainee spoke, “I am Loki, God of Mischief and Prince of Asgard. I would like to say right now that it is a mistake imprisoning me and I will forget all about it if you let me go right now.” Loki spoke swiftly and with an accent foreign to many you heard normally. He had a very charming speech but you were in utter shock at the way he had spoken to the Grandmaster.

You expected the Grandmaster to order the guards to throw him in with the other gladiators and make him go against the champion, but he actually laughed, followed by everyone else in the room other than you.

“Well, Loki, I suppose I don’t need to make you fight. You can keep me company instead. How does that sound?”

It must not have been what Loki was expecting because he raised his eyebrows and said nothing for several seconds. “I think that would be fine,” he finally responded.

“Good, good. Why don’t you take that off him so he can pull up a chair?” the Grandmaster said to the guards. They did as he ordered and unshackled the dark haired man. As soon as he was free he grabbed a chair and planted right in between the Grandmaster and you. Loki sat down and gazed at you, offering a dazzling smile.

You squinted at him for a moment, sizing him up. You knew he was going to be trouble, to you at least.

“Ah Loki, please meet Y/N. She’s like a daughter to me,” the Grandmaster said to him.

“Hello Y/N. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” His words were so obviously a lie that it made you scowl. You could hear the sarcasm seeping from his words. You could tell that he was already trying to butter up the Grandmaster. But in actuality he was trying not to get himself killed. Thor was nowhere to be found and he was on this planet by himself.

“Likewise,” you said back. You turned away from the men and started eating your meal, pointedly ignoring Loki as you did so. You could hear their conversation and it was almost impossible not to eavesdrop. The Grandmaster was mostly talking about himself, all things that you’d already heard before. Loki, when given the chance to talk, was just complimenting him in return.

When the meal was over and the dishes were collected the Grandmaster addressed your father. “My dear Holden, would you house my company for the time being?”

You whipped your head over to the Grandmaster. You couldn’t believe the words that had just come from his mouth. You couldn’t believe he was asking you and your father to let Loki stay with you. But your father being your father would have no problem with it. You just knew he was going to accept.

As you expected he said, “Why of course, the more the merrier.”

Your house was incredibly close to the palace. There really was no need for guards to escort you and your father home but the Grandmaster thought it was necessary. So after dinner you, your father, and Loki made your way to your home. It was very beautiful, and almost as grand as the palace itself, but much smaller.

Your father was in high spirits as usual. Once you were inside your father turned to Loki with a brilliant smile adorning his face. "We are delighted to have you. Please follow me, you can sleep here in the guest bedroom. Y/N is right next door so you can go to her if you need anything."

You looked at your father with a deadpan expression, which he didn't seem to notice. Loki on the other hand was positively beaming back at your father.

"Thank you so much for the hospitality. I really cannot thank you enough."

Your father chuckled, "It's no trouble at all. Any guest of the Grandmaster's is a guest of mine. So please, make yourself at home."

"Thank you again. I am quite tired so I think I'll be heading to bed. Goodnight Holden, goodnight Y/N." He bowed and went to his chambers without another word.

You looked incredulously at your father but he seemed to not have a care in the world. He was awfully aloof when it came to matters dealing with the Grandmaster. Your father and the Grandmaster had a complicated relationship. You really had no clue what was going on with them. They called each other dear and said they loved each other, but you had seen the Grandmaster and your father doing a fair share of flirting with many men and women.

You walked to your own room with a heavy sigh. You stayed up for a few hours that night wondering about the man next door.

You quickly realized that the Grandmaster had taken a liking to Loki. The next morning you, your father, and Loki were having breakfast with the Grandmaster and Loki was hanging onto every word that came out of the man's mouth. You just knew that Loki didn't care. But what you want to know are his intentions. He randomly shows up on your planet and instantly catches the Grandmaster's attention.

You spend most of the morning with your father, preferring his company to the Grandmaster and his new pet. The next time you saw him was at lunch. And just like at dinner the previous night Loki was sitting right next to the Grandmaster. Instead of enduring the empty compliments that were coming from Loki you decided to sit farther down the table next to another one of your father's friends.

"Hello Marridija," you said as you sat down. Marridija was a very kind woman. Kind and very up to date on all the goings on at the palace. It was no surprise that she was close to the Grandmaster.

"Why hello Y/N. You aren't sitting at the front of the table today?" Her drawn-on eyebrows drew in and she tilted her head to the side slightly, making you worry that her hair, which was styled heavily with spray to keep it straight up, would tip over and ruin. Over the many years on Sakaar you had grown accustomed to the wild fashion in the palace. Everyone in the Grandmaster's group wore metallic face paint and did their hair as tall and elaborate as possible.

Out of everyone at the table Marridija had the craziest hair and brightest makeup. She always made sure she was seen in a crowd. Her hair was bubble gum pink and looked like cotton candy on top of her head. Her makeup was many bright streaks of pink, blue, and gold.

"No, not today. I thought I might try something new."

"Oh. Well I'm delighted that you decided to sit by me. I've been meaning to ask-" her eyes cut from you to something over your shoulder before returning to talking, "about your company last night."

You clenched your jaw for a second before you answered her. "What would you like to know?"

"Well… the whole palace wants to know about this mysterious man. Loki, he said." She was speaking in a hushed voice so no one other than you could hear her. If anyone heard her they would most definitely be listening in. But Marridija was good at being quiet when she needed to be. She wanted to be the first with fresh gossip, and for that she would have to hear it before anyone else.

“There isn’t much to tell really. As soon as we got home he went off to his bedroom.”

The woman narrowed her eyes for a second before giving a huff. “Oh Y/N, you won’t give an old lady a bit of juice now will you?” Her face changed from a pout to a sly smile a few seconds after she said that. “Or is there something you don’t want to share with me? A secret of your own perhaps?”

“Absolutely not Marridija. What I’ve told you is the truth. I’m sorry I have nothing juicy enough for your ears.”

You turned away from the woman and forward towards the table and the meal being set in front of you. Through the whole of breakfast you remained silent, listening to the chatter around you. There always seemed to be something to talk about on Sakaar, but with Loki’s arrival and the Grandmaster’s liking towards him has made Loki the center of attention.

After breakfast the guests were clearing out of the dining hall. The Grandmaster had dismissed everyone and he and Loki were the last to leave. You stuck around and when the Grandmaster went to use the restroom and left Loki unoccupied you walked up to him. A smile appeared on his face as he saw your smaller frame scowling at him as you neared. For whatever reason he was quite enjoying how frustrated he was making you, though he didn’t know what exactly was making you mad.

“Hello Y/N,” he greeted.

“Don’t act all innocent. You’re up to something.”

Loki’s eyebrows shot up but his smile remained. “And what would that be?”

“Well I’ve come to find that out.” You crossed your arms and planted your feet in front of Loki. It wasn’t your best look but you wanted to intimidate him. You knew it wasn’t going to be easy. He was taller than you and obviously confident enough to tell the Grandmaster it was a mistake to imprison him.

“I’m sorry to burst your bubble, as they say, but I don’t have anything planned. I landed here by mistake.” Loki said the words so simply you just couldn’t believe it. If he was telling the truth then it would take more than that to convince you.

“And why should I believe you?”

“Well I suppose you shouldn’t. You don’t know me, you don’t know my past or all the things I’ve done. Maybe we could spend some time together and you’ll realize I’m being honest.”

Loki wasn’t entirely sure why he said that last part. He had never offered to let someone get to know him. But a part of him also wanted someone to be able to talk to since he was all alone on a planet he was an outsider on. And it helped that he thought you were incredibly attractive.

You on the other hand didn’t know what to make of his words. If you accepted you might be falling right into his trap, into his plan. But on the other hand maybe he was being genuine. It surely wouldn’t hurt to find out more about him. If he was lying then you could possibly find out his intentions. So you thought the only logical decision would be to accept.

“Fine. After dinner we’ll go to my home and we can… get to know each other. But only because I want to know if you’re telling the truth.”

He laughed, “Of course, of course. See you then.”

The door you were standing next to opened and the Grandmaster himself walked out. He clasped his hands together and a smile appeared on his face. “Y/N! Thank you for keeping Loki company. Are you two getting along?”

You and Loki glanced at each other. There was no way you were going to say no, both of you had common sense. So you both put on a smile and looked as comfortable as possible.

“We are!” Loki said first. He put a huge grin on his face and leaned towards you, draping an arm around your shoulder. The sudden touch almost made you recoil, but if you did that it would look strange to the man that had just questioned your relationship.

“Well Loki and I should be going. I’ll see you at supper gorgeous.” The Grandmaster wiggled his fingers at you with an award winning smile. Loki took his arm off you and started following after him when the Grandmaster began to walk away. A hole might have been burnt into the back of Loki’s head from your staring. He was so puzzling. Irksome even.

The footsteps eventually faded as they walked further and further away from you and closer to wherever it was they were going. Your own slippered feet padded against the floor of the palace as you made your way down to the bottom level, outside, and safely in your home. It was a shame that most of the people your age were bounty hunters. You were all in all lonely. Maybe that’s what led you to agree to getting to know Loki.

You assumed he was around your age. He claimed to be a god after all, so he must be more than the average person.

Dinner rolled around and you went to the palace to eat as you did everyday. Loki was there. Though you knew he would be. You weren’t used to his presence just yet, so every time you saw him you were still slightly surprised. You were used to being around the ‘royalty’ of Sakaar for years and attending the same mundane events all the time. Loki was something new, something fresh. That’s why he was such a buzz on Sakaar. Especially when he made such an impression on the Grandmaster.

After the meal you went home and waited for Loki. You knew he would have to tell the Grandmaster some excuse for him to leave, so he was going to be a few minutes behind you.

Ten minutes after you had arrived home the door opened and Loki walked in. You couldn't help but laugh when you saw the exasperated expression on his face. You knew just how tiring the Grandmaster could be. Upon hearing the ring of your laughter Loki smiled. It was the first time he heard you make that sound and thought it was beautiful.

He slung his hair out of his face and slid into the white bar stool next to you at the kitchen island. You already had two glasses of champagne ready for the two of you. Assuming you would need it.

"What did you have to tell him to let you leave?" you asked, raising the glass to your lips.

"Well I told him I was tired and he just laughed it off then I said I was having an upset stomach and wasn't doing so well down there and he let me go."

Neither of you could hold back laughter. You were the first to start cracking up and seeing your reaction influenced Loki's joyous noise. The atmosphere was smooth and laid back. In preparation you had a drink beforehand, hence why you were so calm. Loki's smile and infectious attitude were also to blame.

In the time span of lunch and coming home you realized how ridiculous you were being. You had only just met Loki yesterday and you were already trying to accuse him of trying to harm the creator of your planet.

Once the laughter had died down you set your glass on the countertop and turned to Loki. "I'm sorry for how I've acted towards you. I haven't treated you fairly or given you a chance at all. I started jumping to conclusions and that was wrong of me. So I'm sorry, I hope you can forgive me."

“Wow- I- Yes I can forgive you. I understand where you were coming from. You care about the Grandmaster and don't want him to be in danger. I think that’s very noble of you.” The corners of Loki’s eyes crinkled up as he looked at you with a soft smile.

“Well… thank you. I’m glad we’re on good terms.” You gave him an awkward smile and took another sip of your drink. Loki picked up his own and took a sip of it.

"So your father and the Grandmaster… are they together?" he asked once his glass was empty.

“I’m not entirely sure. They’re relationship is complicated. I know they call each other love and darling but they also flirt and do things with other people too.” You cringed at the memory of coming home and hearing your father with one of his friends. But beside you Loki let out a chuckle. He was really enjoying getting to see this new side of you.

With a final tip of your flute you had finished your drink. Looking over you realized that Loki had too, so you stood and refilled it.

“I just realized I didn’t ask you if you wanted another glass,” you said when you had finished pouring.

He waved you off. “Don’t worry, I do.”

You slid his flute across the counter and leaned on it, not bothering to go back around to sit on the stool again. “So, you said that you ended up here by accident… what did you mean by that?”

“Ah, trying to find out if I’m lying again? I thought this was behind us,” he said.

“I’m not asking because of that. It is behind us. I want to know more about you and what you were doing before you got to Sakaar.”

He nodded. “Well I was with my brother. Though I don’t know why he hasn’t gotten here yet.”

“Time works differently here,” you interjected. “So if you both came through at the same time he might get here later than you did.”

“Ah okay, well that explains it then. Anyways, I was with my brother, Thor. My sister, Hela, has cast us out of Asgard and we need to get back there and defeat her. We don’t stand a chance though,” he explained.

“If you need help getting there then I’m sure my father and I can be of assistance.”

“I think I should wait for Thor to arrive, whenever that is…” he trailed off.

“He could show up any day. But while you’re here you can hang out with me.” “When you’re not with the Grandmaster that is,” you added.

“I don’t know how often I’ll be able to get away from him but I’ll definitely try.”

The last drops of your champagne slid down your throat as you smiled against your glass. You were really looking forward to getting to spend time with Loki.

For the next few days after that you guys were together any chance you got. The Grandmaster was keeping Loki close, but he was able to make up excuses to come see you when he could. Loki was like a breath of fresh air in your life. His life was a lot different than yours, but you found yourselves relating in multiple ways.

Every time you two were together all you could do was smile. It was like you had found your first true friend. But you knew that when Thor came that Loki would be leaving. Even though it was wrong you hoped that Thor wouldn’t arrive for a while just so you could have more time together.

It was a little over a week since Loki had arrived and you were laying next to each other on your leisure ship, staring up at the stars.

“It’s beautiful, everything here is,” Loki whispered. You were looking straight above you but when Loki was speaking he had turned his head towards you.

“It’s strange isn’t it? It’s called the trash or garbage planet but it’s dazzling if you take the time to look around.” When you finished speaking you rolled your head to the side to look at Loki. The whole time you were speaking he was memorizing every part of your face with a smile on his own. When you saw him smiling you shyly smiled too.

Without you realizing Loki reached his hand over and found yours. When he did he took it and interlocked your fingers. You looked down at your entwined hands. Your heart was racing and butterflies were filling your stomach.

No words were spoken, it was just the two of you underneath a blanket of twinkling stars wishing for something more. Loki’s hand was warm in yours, and you wished that same warmth would envelop your whole body. You scooted over closer and closer to the man until he wrapped his arm around you.

“This is nice,” you mumbled against his chest.

“It is. I like having you in my arms,” Loki whispered back.

You let your eyes close and the warmth and blissful feeling take over you. You woke up in bed, wrapped up in your covers. The sun was shining and filtering through your windows and splaying out on your floor. You thought back to last night and remembered you must have fallen asleep, which meant Loki must have taken you home and carried you to bed.

You walked out of your bedroom and stood right outside your door. You weren’t sure what time it was. It was morning that was obvious. Maybe it was early enough that Loki hadn’t been summoned by the Grandmaster yet. You walked over to the bedroom next to your own and knocked on the door.

“Come in,” Loki called out.

You opened the door and gently shut it back when you entered. Loki was still in bed but he was awake.

“Good morning beautiful,” he greeted you.

A tired smile went across your face as you sat down on Loki’s bed. He reached out to you and pulled you into him, setting you flush against his frame and placing a kiss on top of your head.

“How did you sleep?” he asked.

“I slept well. Thank you for bringing me back home.”

“It was my pleasure.” Loki tilted his head down and kissed the top of your head once more. His actions were so sweet you were feeling things you had never felt before. It was wild to you how quickly you had fallen for the God of Mischief.

After laying together for a few minutes there was a knock at the front door. You sighed and got out of Loki’s bed. The guards had arrived to escort Loki and you to breakfast with the Grandmaster. You both hurriedly got dressed and left to start your day.

For another two weeks things ran smoothly. You were happy. Loki was making you happy. But you knew that the day that Thor would arrive was approaching. It had been three weeks since Loki himself had fallen onto the planet, meaning his brother was not far behind.

You were sitting with Loki and mingling with other people in one of the palace rooms when Scrapper 142 announced she found someone. 142 was Grandmaster’s favorite scrapper. She brought him his champion after all. The person she had brought came into the room in the usual reinforced chair that all contenders usually did.

Loki was sitting next to you not paying any attention and neither were you until the man started yelling Loki’s name. You looked at him with confusion before you realized, it must be Thor.

When Thor finally got Loki’s attention he immediately stopped talking and got up. They were whispering back and forth fervently until the Grandmaster came up to them and interjected. They talked for a minute before Thor was thrown into the holding area for gladiators.

“That was your brother wasn’t it? Thor?” you asked when Loki came back over to you.

“Yes, yes it was.” He lowered himself back onto the couch and stayed quiet.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I just… wasn’t expecting him.”

“Oh, okay.” You nodded. Not only did you understand but you felt the same way. You hoped maybe Thor would show up later, and give you more time. But no. He was there and when given the chance he was definitely going to leave. But that wouldn’t be too soon. If he was fighting the Grandmaster’s champion he may never leave. You had seen the green monster in action and he was brutal.

Later that day you and Loki were sitting in the upper class stands at the Grand Arena watching the fights. Loki was constantly wiping his palms on his pants and his leg was bouncing up and down. He had never seen the champion fight but you had told him how ferocious he was and that made Loki nervous.

The Grandmaster announced Thor and when he came out onto the dirt the crowd was filled with ‘boos’ and other jeers. The ring around the bottom of the stadium begins to rise to accommodate the height of Thor's opponent and the Grandmaster started to announce him.

“Ladies and gentlemen I give you… your Incredible…” he trailed off, or at least you thought he did because before he could say the actual name the fighter burst through the doors and yelled, “HULK!”

The blood drained from Loki’s face next to you. “I’ve got to get off this planet,” he mumbled.

“Why what’s wrong?” you asked, worried.

“The Grandmaster’s champion is an Avenger, just like Thor. And he’s defeated me.”

Down on the dirt Thor had looked up into your box and was yelling, “We know each other! He’s a friend from work.”

The Grandmaster’s mouth dropped open and he looked over at Loki, who was staring straight forward and clearing his throat.

Thor was making small talk with Hulk before you heard him look over and shout again, “Loki! Look who it is!”

You’d never seen Loki so nervous and afraid. You reached over and placed a hand on his arm. “It’ll be okay.”

Down below Hulk was tired of hearing Thor talk and started running towards him. The fight was in full force and Loki was getting more nervous by the second. Hulk was in it to win it, and he wasn’t sure if his brother would be able to make it out. Surprisingly Thor was able to hit Hulk, sending him all across the barrier on the arena. The crowd was silent as Thor neared Hulk. He placed his hand in Hulk’s massive one and started speaking, but you couldn’t tell what he was saying.

They weren’t fighting and everyone was still and watching. Then Hulk grabbed Thor and swung him back and forth, hitting him against the ground countless times. Loki jumped up, startling you, and shouted, “Yes that’s how it feels!”

The Grandmaster looked over at him questionably and Loki responded with, “I’m just a huge fan of the sport.” The Grandmaster didn’t say anything, just turned back toward the arena and laughed.

Loki sat back down and you looked at him with your eyebrows raised, “What was that about?”

“Well… Hulk did that to me a few years ago.”

“Really?” you laughed.

“Yes. It wasn’t one of my finest moments,” he chuckled. You both settled back down on the couch and focused on the match again. The fight progressed and favor switched between Hulk and Thor for a minute or two. The Grandmaster and Loki were leaning in and cringing depending on the blow and who it had landed on. But things weren’t looking good for Thor. Hulk had him pinned down and was beating him to death.

Blow after blow was pounding down right on Thor’s face. Then something happened. You strained your eyes to see that Thor’s eyes began to glow and lighting began to glow and crackle all around his body. He seemed to gather his strength for a second, wind back his hand and land a punch right to Hulk, sending him flying with an arch of lightning, resulting in a collective gasp from the stands.

Hulk collapsed yards away from Thor. The Grandmaster raised out of his seat, stepped forward and stared at the scene below you. The crowd was murmuring and whispering all kinds of things. You looked over at Loki, who had his elbows propped up on his knees with his mouth wide open.

Thor and Hulk both stood up and ran towards each other, jumping and then hitting one another. It was like a mini-explosion where Thor’s fist collided with Hulk. You were on the edge of your seat. It seemed like Thor could win. The crowd sure seemed to think so because they were chanting, “Thunder! Thunder! Thunder!”

Your full attention was drawn on the arena and a perplexed expression crossed your face when Thor violently shook and then fell to the ground. You looked around and saw the Grandmaster pointing his activator down at Thor, activating his Obedience Disk. You couldn’t believe it. If the Grandmaster wouldn’t have interfered then Thor could have won. He could be freed.

The Grandmaster stood up with a smile and started his projection onto the center of the arena, “Well done! Well done! Two very good fighters, but it looks like my champion has defended his title once again. Thank you everyone for attending today, I hope to see you at the next battle!”

His projection disappeared and people started to file out of the stands. You could tell by the silence that followed that the Grandmaster wasn’t too happy. He walked out of the room followed by guards, leaving everyone else alone. Loki was leaning back on the couch next to you slack-jawed.

“That wasn’t fair,” you breathed out.

He shook his head, “No, no it wasn’t.”

“At least he didn’t die. He should be okay for now,” you said, talking about Thor.

“Thank god.”

You and Loki returned home and sat down on the living room couch. You never got the chance to talk about Thor’s arrival but now no one else was around.

“You might be leaving soon,” you said.

“I may.” Loki reached his hand over and took one of yours in his. You couldn’t mistake the sadness in his voice.

“I won’t make you stay. If you need to go then you should.” You looked at Loki with pure earnestness in your eyes. It hurt to say it, but if Loki and his brother needed to leave then you didn’t want to be the reason they didn’t.

“Y/N I don’t want to go. I want to stay here… with you.”

“What about your sister? Didn’t you say she was trying to take over Asgard, your home?” you questioned with a soft voice.

“Yes but- we don’t stand a chance. If we go we’ll only die. There’s no hope for us.”

You faced your whole body towards him and dipped your head down so Loki could see your face. “You don’t know that. You’re strong and I know you aren’t a coward.”

He stayed quiet but squeezed your hand and met your eyes.

“If you need to go, don’t let me hold you back,” you repeated.

Loki strained up and gave a stern look forward as he nodded his head. “You’re right. I do need to go. Asgard is my home.” He bent his head towards you and spoke, “But I want to make my time with you count.” He leaned in and tilted his head, eyes trained on your lips. You also leaned in and closed your eyes, letting yourself dissolve into the tender kiss.

It heated up quickly, pants filling the air between you every time you parted. You crawled on top of him, straddling his lap. His hands glided from your shoulder blades to your butt, caressing you.

You pulled away and opened your eyes for a second, your face only inches from his. “Should we take this to my room?”

“Yes, we should.” Loki raised up, holding you in his arms and carrying you to your room. You slid out of his arms right in front of the foot of your bed. He started undressing, pulling off his cape, boots, and other components of his complicated outfit. Yours was much easier to get off. All you did was kick off your slippers and undo your dress in the back and let it pool at your feet.

The whole process took a few minutes and you giggled when you had to help Loki undress.

“This is a mood killer,” Loki sighed.

“It’s okay,” you giggled. You pulled off the last garment including Loki’s underwear and he turned around to let you see him. He was so beautiful, every single thing about him. You could definitely believe he was a god, because he sure looked like one. Your wandering eyes made him chuckle, but he couldn’t say anything because he was doing the same.

His hands hovered over your hips, almost like he was afraid to touch you or else you would crumble in front of him. You smiled up Loki and put your hands over his, guiding them to your bare skin. He sharply inhaled as he felt how smooth and warm your skin was. He let out a small laugh in disbelief. He couldn’t imagine himself ever being so lucky as to have you.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him down to kiss you. He lifted you up again and walked over to your bed until his knees hit the edge. He crawled on and lowered you down onto the fluffy pillows. Your body was on display for him and he was completely swooning over you.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered in awe.

“And you,” you reached up and pulled him closer to you by his shoulders, “are very handsome.”

He smiled and pressed a kiss to your cheek. Since he was already down there he crept lower and lower, placing gentle kisses from your cheek all the way down to your lower stomach. Your breath hitched as his breath fanned over your vagina. He gave it a small kiss before he leaned back. He replaced his mouth with his fingers, sliding them up and down your folds before inserting one.

He surveyed your face as he began to curl his finger making you start moaning quietly.

“Does it feel good?” he asked tentatively.

“Yes,” you moaned out.

He smiled and continued to work you up, building the pressure inside your lower stomach. You couldn’t keep your eyes open. You tried to, but with all the new feelings going on you were squeezing them shut. Loki frowned and cupped your cheek with his hand, rubbing it with his thumb.

“Princess, will you look at me?” he asked. You opened your eyes and did as he asked. You kept your eyes open but your lids were only half open.

You loved the way his fingers felt but you wanted more- you wanted him. “Loki- Loki I want you inside me.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m positive.”

He pulled his fingers out and wrapped that hand around his cock, pumping it and getting it ready to be inside you. He spread your legs further than they already were and walked forward on his knees until his tip was right against your entrance. You put his hand around it and guided it in slowly, letting you adjust to the length.

Your hands were on either side of your pillow and you were squeezing it. It wasn’t very painful, but it didn’t feel right to just have your hands open, so you clenched them around your silk pillowcase. Loki saw them and put his own hands on top of yours. As he rolled his hips into you that’s what kept him stable.

“Darling, you make me feel-” he moaned, “so good.”

The inside of you was warm and velvety, encasing his dick in a personal heaven. In just a few minutes he knew what was going to come. Him.

Loki was making you feel just as good as you were making him, if not better. You weren’t a virgin. You had lived long enough to want men and take them back home with you. But none of them were making you feel the way Loki was. He knew exactly what to do, what pace to go at, and all the right words to say. The gentle moans and vulnerable face were so beautiful above you that tears were staining your cheeks.

Worry crossed Loki’s face, he thought you were hurting. “Are you okay?” he asked quickly.

“I’m fine, you’re just- you’re so beautiful.”

He choked out a laugh and regained his original pace. The compliment had warmed his entire body. He was on cloud nine. There was a growing sensation in his lower region and he could feel his orgasm coming.

“I’m about to cum,” he panted.

“Go ahead darling, cum for me,” you returned. His eyes widened but he went ahead, cock stiffening before releasing his cum.

You moaned, head falling to the side from the buzz traveling through your body. You arched your back in an attempt to hurry your own orgasm along. You could feel it approaching but it couldn’t get there soon enough for you. Loki thrusted faster and tried to hit that spot that he knew you had. He succeeded, and an overwhelming pleasure drifted through you.

Your walls clenched around his dick and your own juices squirted out. You sniffed and wiped your tears, opening your eyes to see Loki’s face in complete and utter amazement. You laughed a little as he pulled out of you and rolled over to be by your side.

“What was that face for?” you asked.

“That was the best I’ve ever felt. You are… perfect in every way.”

“I feel the same about you.” You turned on your side and placed a hand on his cheek, just like he had done to you a few minutes prior.

He nuzzled closer to you, putting his face in the crook of your neck. “I’ll come back for you. I promise,” he whispered.

“I’ll be waiting,” you responded while stroking his hair.

Taglist: @deanscroissant

[juniorgman187]

Fighting Fire With Fire (Reid Fic)

Summary: Reader must lower her pride after a date goes wrong and the only one who can rescue her is her mortal enemy - Spencer Reid.

A/N: This was a beast of a fic to write. It’s been in my WIP since September, and I managed to go from 11 pages to 22 pages in three days. It is now my longest fic thus far. I am insanely fucking proud of it and I hope it does well. Category: Angst Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid Content Warning: allusions to ‘catfishing,’ allusions to abduction, dub-con to taking provocative photos, alcohol, mentions of bruises, jealousy, carrying hug which implies weight of Reader (lmk if I missed anything) Word Count: 11.7k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

I tried to play nice; I really did, but there was no getting through to him. Everyday started and ended with us fighting fire with fire.

Maybe the reason the two of you butt heads so often is because of how similar you are.

That’s what the team would say when Spencer and I got into one of our daily (sometimes hourly) arguments. 

They constantly encouraged us to get to know each other so that we’d finally see the likeness, and until recently, I wasn’t opposed to the idea. I was willing to do whatever it took to get him to like me. However, as previously mentioned, my willingness quickly dissipated in light of recent events. 

Voluntarily spending more time than necessary with him would be a recipe for disaster no doubt. 

Somehow, in a matter of a month, Reid decided that he simply did not enjoy my presence, which was the nice way of putting it. 

To be more crass, he loathed me to no end.

Initially, I was operating under the assumption that he wasn’t fond of change, and with me joining the BAU, the change was too much too fast for him, but after four weeks, his attitude toward me never deviated. Yet again, I made another excuse for him, arguing to myself that people are allowed to not like me. I could respect that, but where he lost my respect was how he made a conscious effort to remind me of how much he despised me. Even when I was at my nicest, he still treated me like a scelerate. 

If there was a prize for gaining a mortal enemy in the shortest amount of time, I guess I already won that without even trying. He hated me with a burning passion, for reasons unbeknownst to me, despite the fact that all I’d ever try to do was be his friend. 

For far too long, I kept denying the part of me that knew making peace with him outside of work wouldn’t go well and it’d simply go down in history as another failed attempt of mine to form a bond with him, so it was at this point that I decided to face the facts. 

He didn’t make it easy for me, either. It was hard having to be kind to someone that was only ever out to get me. 

He would constantly correct me but only after I said something incorrectly, just so he could prove me wrong. 

“If each police officer patrols a street, we’ll be able to cover the entire comfort zone.”

“Actually, we’d need three more officers if we want to cover the entire comfort zone. There’s still 2.347 miles that are unaccounted for.”

I never understood why he couldn’t just say his piece before me so that I didn’t look like an idiot, but I suppose that was the point. 

And he had this infuriating, unwarranted habit of judging my taste in cinema and literature. Anytime I told Emily or Derek about a movie I saw or told Rossi about a book I read, he felt compelled to share his antagonistic opinions as if I asked for them in the first place. Sometimes even spoiling the endings for me!

“Rossi, I just started reading Doctor Sleep!” I was so eager to tell Rossi that, so much so that I’d become blind to one dark cloud’s own eagerness to ruin the fun. 

“The hotel burns to the ground, but the ghosts don’t die with it.” 

He said it with such monotony and nonchalance, not even bothering to look up from his own book to watch my reaction to his menacing act. He just didn’t care!

The list of reasons not to like him truly did go on and on, so it was almost insulting how people would compare the two of us. 

They’d bring up the congruence in intelligence, the same affinity for reading, and closeness in age, but it only made me madder. The last person I wanted to resemble was Reid, except today, I gained another glaring similarity to him.

“Look at you two. Did you plan your outfits or something?” Emily playfully pointed out after I walked into the conference room. 

I eyed the doctor sipping at his cup of coffee who swiveled around in his chair to see what everyone else was seeing. Just from a short glance, I spotted his navy blue button-up with white polka dots that was nearly identical to the color and print of my dress.

“Well, looks like one of us has to go home and change.” His lips grew into a mischievous smirk behind the rim of his mug. 

Was that a joke? Did Spencer Reid make jokes now?

“Ha ha. Very funny.” I facetiously remarked, taking the only open seat at the table which was next to the jokester himself. 

“I’m kidding. You look really nice today.” He alleged without a hint of irony. He was complimenting me now, too? It was so unfamiliar that it felt like uncharted territory, possibly even a trap.

“Why? Because I’m dressed like you?” I wasn’t going to fall for his words now, maybe the version of me who would do anything to gain his approval would have. She would’ve smiled and said ‘thank you,’ but this me was going to challenge him if that was the last thing I ever did. “Bit of a narcissist are we, Dr. Reid?” 

“Mmm maybe,” He wagered, tilting his head from side to side as if to contemplate the possibility. “Or maybe I just really think you look nice.” 

Without even thinking, my heart skipped a beat. I was utterly repulsed by how I let his words have any effect over me. I couldn’t believe that he’d actually managed to fluster me with mediocre flattery. 

It felt like years that I had to sit next to Reid at the round table before Hotch dismissed the team for the flight.

30 minutes later, and we were on the jet. I’d taken one of the seats at the table opposite Derek and Emily, with Spencer beside me. 

Little things like this I could handle, but I knew it wouldn’t be long before he started bothering me. Morgan was listening to music and Emily was turned around in her seat, facing the back to talk to Rossi. Reid was playing himself in chess, and it took all of my self-control to not be a total asshole and knock the board and its pieces over and into the aisle. Luckily, I had a good enough distraction. 

Grant: can you ft tonight?

Me: we’ll see. i might have to work overtime. 

For the months that I had been talking to Grant, I was deliberately ambiguous about my job because I wasn’t exactly keen on telling him that I worked for the FBI and that I might not be able to FaceTime him since I was in the process of investigating a series of homicides. That’d surely scare him away and I was never one to flaunt my government job anyway.

Grant: you look stunning today

Me: you haven’t even seen me today 

Grant: don’t need to. 

Grant: you’ll always be stunning to me. 

“Who keeps texting you?” 

I looked up from my screen to see Reid fixated on his game but still engaged in my business. 

“No one,” I harshly replied, making a conscious decision to turn my phone on vibrate so he wouldn’t hear the chime of my text notifications.  

With one nimble side glance, Reid eyed my screen. I nudged him away with extra force.

“Nosy much?!” 

This stunned him. He wasn’t used to my coldness, he probably expected me to smile in a chagrined manner and not confront it - as I would have done - but now I was fighting back, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he liked it. 

I knew he could read fast, but how he managed to look at my phone so quickly it was like he never even moved his eyes - I didn’t know. Somehow, though, he managed to capture Grant’s entire username, and I didn’t doubt that he caught my entire conversation with him, too.

“Who’s Grant?” The name rolled off his tongue like he was insulted to even be saying it. 

“No one.” 

He didn’t respond soon after I said this, which I misinterpreted as a little victory for me since I almost believed he was going to drop the subject, but in true Spencer Know It All Reid fashion, he just kept going. 

“‘You look stunning today B-T-W. You haven’t even seen me today. Don’t need to. You’ll always be stunning to me.’ Doesn’t really sound like a ‘no one’ to me.” His recitation of my entire PRIVATE conversation with Grant embarrassed me. 

Did I forget to add his eidetic memory and speed-reading ability to the list of reasons not to like him?

“Shut up!” I nudged him, this time using much more force than the last. I was becoming more and more inclined to push over his ridiculous chess game so that he’d finally take me seriously. 

“Oh, really clever by the way. Vaguely insinuating that you ‘might not be able to call him because you’re working overtime’ just so you don’t have to disclose the true nature of your job.” Spencer’s sarcasm was thick.

“Are you just jealous because the only date you’ve been on was a fake one with a serial killer and not even your actual girlfriend while she was alive?” My reference to Cat and Maeve caught the attention of the entire jet. 

Each member mentally rolled their eyes thinking ‘Here we go again.’ And if that wasn’t their reaction, they were certainly cringing at the fight that was ensuing. 

Things had been suspiciously good between the two of us today so it was about time we argued. We were due for our daily quarrel.

“Oh, that’s right! The only girls who like you are victims in our cases.” Now this comment was referring to Lila and Austin. (I had Penelope to thank for filling me in on all of Reid’s ‘entanglements’ after I was first reassigned).

“Really? You wanna go there?” He sassed back, diverting his attention away fully from his chess game now. “Do you know how many people get ‘catfished’ when using online dating websites? Or the statistics on how many people are raped, assaulted, or murdered by said ‘catfish’?” 

“I’m not stupid, Reid. He and I have been talking for months. We’ve been on calls and Facetime before, too. We’ve just never met in person. Sound familiar?” 

“What Maeve and I had is not at all comparable to what you and this ‘guy’ have. And just because you’ve seen his face before doesn’t mean he’s not a serial killer or operating under an alias.” 

I had to scoff. Who was he to label our relationship valid or not?

“What’s it to you anyway? We all know you’d be ecstatic if this guy turned out to be a serial killer or catfish. You’d get to rub it in my face and say ‘I told you so.’” 

This touched a nerve. He hated it when I attacked his nice-guy facade. 

“Is it so hard to believe I’m actually concerned for your wellbeing?”

“Yes, actually.”

“Fine. If you think I don’t care about you, then don’t come crying to me when you realize he’s not the guy you think he is.”

“Oh, trust me, I won’t! It’s not like you’d be able to protect me anyway, Pretty Boy.” I sneered, using Morgan’s nickname for him as an insult got to him, and I could see it in the way his jaw clenched and his nostrils flared. 

Hotch had to interject now. “Alright, (y/l/n), Reid, that’s enough. We need to focus on what’s actually important.” 

I settled back down in my seat, facing forward and avoiding eye contact with Reid. 

“Have fun on your date,” He muttered under his breath. “Hope you survive it.”

Bastard.

For the rest of the case, I was on edge. Deliberately avoiding him was a much harder task than one might think. I had to wait at least ten minutes for my coffee, so I wouldn’t be at the machine when he was there, and if I had to guess, he probably took longer just to make me wait in agitation. I had to awkwardly squeeze into a new spot beside Rossi and Hotch when we were delivering the profile. I had to ask not to travel in the same SUV as him. 

And this exhausting routine went on for days. In fact, I’d managed to almost go the entire case without interacting with him. That was until Hotch sent us both in the field to apprehend the unsub. 

“Are you sure?” I asked with clear reluctance. 

“Are you questioning me?” Hotch replied sternly. 

“No, sir.” 

I was already on thin ice being the new recruit, so I knew better than to question any of Hotch’s orders. And as miserable as working with Reid was, I figured he’d at least ease up on the hostility when we needed to be professional. Evidently though, even in the field, he wasn’t willing to work together with me. 

It was a quick decision, not careless in the least, however. The unsub had locked himself in his warehouse and refused to leave unless we were brave enough to drag him out of there ourselves. The ultimatum he gave specified that only one of us could do it and we both agreed that I should go in, seeing as he’d underestimate my strength as a woman, and I’d have the upperhand when I inevitably apprehended him. 

However, he also explicitly told us that I couldn’t come in with a gun - it had to be an even playing field. 

“You are not going in without a gun,”  Reid ordered. 

“We don’t have time to argue about this - I have a spare on me, okay? There are three hostages in there, two of which are children.” Without giving him a chance to respond, I handed him my gun and holster.

Had I let him waste a single second more of my time, we wouldn’t have been able to save the three hostages and successfully arrest the unsub. I saw this as a victory and I was almost willing to celebrate it with him, but it wasn’t long before he let our enmity tear us apart again. 

When we got back to the precinct, I went to the locker room to change, then suddenly, Hotch came in. 

“I’ve been informed that you went in unarmed against a fellow agent’s orders. This matter will be discussed in my office when we get back. I should warn you, (y/n), you do not want to make this mistake again.” Hotch left me with those foreboding words, and I knew, I knew immediately that Reid was to blame for this.

If I took a look in the mirror of my locker, I wouldn’t have been surprised if I saw that my face was turning a bright shade of red. I was fuming - bursting at the seams from the anger building within me that was desperately fighting to escape. I could imagine myself as a cartoon character with steam blowing out either of my ears. I was about to go on a rampage, and no one - absolutely no one - could stop me. 

The last straw was hearing him come in. This was my opportunity to unleash what was already boiling. 

“What the hell, Reid? ‘(y/n) went in unarmed.’ Seriously?!” I undid the velcro on my vest so hastily out of my blind rage that the spiky side of the velcro strip nearly sliced my finger. “Are you trying to get me fired?” 

“If that’s what it takes to make you realize how stupid of a choice that was, then yes, I do.” He was so calm and collected in his inflection that it angered me all the more. 

“What are you even talking about? What ‘stupid choice’? You knew I had a second gun on me. And even if I didn’t carry it, I still would’ve had my vest on. I wasn’t going in unarmed or unprotected, so why would you tell Hotch that?” 

“In the time it would take you to assess the danger, react, and then reach for the gun at your ankle, the unsub would’ve been able to shoot you twice - if not more. That’s going in unprepared, which is going in unarmed.”

I scoffed in disbelief that he was actually reprimanding me. “Are you kidding? This is all based on a technicality? Did your eidetic memory somehow forget about what happened with Maeve? Because my memory didn’t. I know for a fact that you went into that warehouse without a vest or a weapon. And unlike you, I had a spare and my vest. AND I actually apprehended the unsub. Did you stop Diane?”  

This crossed a line and I knew it, but it was too late to take it back, and clearly, it was much too late to repair any relationship I had with him. We were far beyond the point of no return. 

He was so mad that he didn’t even answer me. The only response I could gauge was from his body language, which by the looks of it, all the signs of anger were plain on his face. He clenched his jaw so hard I could hear his teeth grind. Even his nostrils flared so primitively. His eyes narrowed down at me with a glare that said, ‘I’m the predator and you’re the prey.’

“Yeah, exactly.” I spat when he stayed silent. 

I turned around, starting towards the exit, but I was too furious to stop there, so I spun around and unleashed the remainder of my wrath that had been dying to come out. 

“Look, I get it. I’m the new kid around here, and it sucks when someone new comes in and changes up the team dynamic, but any mistake I make, or any mistake Hotch thinks I make, could send me packing. You’ve been working in this unit for years, and even if Hotch questions your choices, he won’t reassign you. He won’t even threaten it. He’s willing to overlook your mistakes because he knows that what you have to contribute to the team is too vital to let go, but I haven’t even had my chance to show him what I have to offer. So when I do make a mistake, there is nothing for me to fall back on, nothing to redeem me, and no safety net, but you? You have years of experience on your back to break your fall. So don’t you dare act like you’re doing me a favor by reporting my ‘mistake’ to Hotch. You might be costing me my dream job, and if you think that makes us friends - think again.” 

I stormed out of the locker room seeing red. 

This war was far from over. 

_ _ _

“You’re clenching your fists again,” Emily said under her breath. I was grateful that she said it in a hushed tone, otherwise she might’ve revealed my lingering anger to the whole jet, which wouldn’t have been good. 

I immediately unclenched them, opening up my hands to reveal small, dark C shaped imprints on my palms from where my nails had dug into them. 

I should’ve expected that she would’ve learned at least one of my tells by now. I did have many after all. Cheek biting, fist-clenching, leg bouncing. 

“Something bothering you?” She probed quietly. 

She set her book down to give her undivided attention to this conversation. That was enough to tell me that an excuse like, ‘Nothing, I’m fine,’ would not suffice. She wouldn’t be satisfied until I told her the truth, which I surely did not want to tell. So I settled for a half-truth.

“Hotch wants to talk when we get back.” 

From my peripherals, I saw her knit her brows together in confusion. “Is . . . is that it?”

“Mhm.” I lied. 

“But that’s not enough to warrant the fist clenching. Cheek biting - sure - you do it when you’re anxious, but not fist-clenching. You only do that when you’re angry about something.” 

“Oh, so you have figured out all my tells,” I smirked.

“Pfft, I figured them all out the first week you got here, but I won’t tell you the rest, otherwise you might try and hide them from me,” She joked. 

I shook my head playfully. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m just worked up about something - it’s nothing you need to worry about though.” Habitually, my eyes looked right up in his direction. I caught a glimpse of him sprawled against the couch, sleeping. He was lucky I wasn’t ranting about the little stunt he pulled earlier to Emily. He should be thankful that I was even trying to protect his reputation to her at all. 

“I get it if you don’t want to talk about it, but it does help. Take it from me, someone who really only trusts myself, you shouldn’t hide what you feel.” 

What you feel. 

I clung onto those words. 

What was I really feeling? 

Was I upset that instead of receiving praise for the arrest I made, I was scolded like a child? Was I angry that Hotch believed what Reid had to say about my “problematic behavior” instead of believing in me? 

Or did I feel betrayed that despite my best efforts to build a bridge, Reid was tearing it apart brick by brick? Burning it to pieces with the fire of his rage?

“Thanks.” I bleakly said to Emily. I would’ve told her the truth, but it didn’t feel necessary at that moment. If anything, it just would’ve reflected badly on me. 

Truthfully, she was the closest thing I had to a friend in the BAU, and if I wanted a permanent spot here, I needed to make more of them - and fast. 

“Hey, (y/n), we’re all going down to O’Keefs tonight to celebrate. You wanna join us?” Morgan asked, walking up the aisle and crouching down beside my seat to talk to me. 

“Oh, I wish I could, but I have to talk with Hotch when we get back,” I explained, smiling politely. 

“We can postpone the meeting till first thing Monday morning. I need to go home and be with Jack, anyway,” Hotch added. 

I didn’t realize he could hear me from where he was sitting, which made me all the more nervous that he might’ve overheard the entire conversation between me and Emily earlier. 

“Looks like I’m free,” I looked back at Morgan. “Does the offer still stand?”

“Anything for you, sweet cheeks.” He winked. 

Judging from the lightness of the atmosphere, everyone, except maybe Hotch and Rossi, would be celebrating at O’Keefs - including Spencer. 

I think I might’ve actually preferred to be scolded by Hotch tonight, instead of being silently glared at by Spencer, but it was already too late to revoke my confirmation of presence. 

Because, if Hotch could hear me from where he was sitting, then Spencer could, too. 

He already heard I was coming, and there was no way I was backing down.

_ _ _ 

In spite of the fact that I could barely hear myself think over the loud chatter and blasting music, I could still feel the rage radiating off of Spencer. You would think with how long his nap was on the jet, he wouldn’t be so cranky, but I guess he just couldn’t sleep off his disdain for me after our minor altercation. 

I wondered if the team could see it, too. The way he was burning a hole into me with his fiery stare. The tension was palpable, as it has always been, but remember - I’m not the one who wanted it that way. 

He started this. I was only making the feeling mutual. 

“So what about you, (y/n)? Are you seeing anyone?” 

I tried to hide my growing smirk behind the rim of my beer, but I knew I couldn’t hide much from them. Of course, right across from me, Spencer was glaring at me expectantly, waiting for the answer he already knew. 

“Oooh, look at her - she’s blushing! Spill.” Penelope ordered, beating her palm on the table so enthusiastically it shook all the drinks on it.  

“Well, there’s this one guy I’ve been seeing for a while,” The second I started speaking, I noticed Spencer rolling his eyes. I figured his apprehension was the only response of its kind that I would receive, but I was very mistaken. 

“How did you two meet?” Penelope giddily asked, nearly jumping up and down in her seat. 

“A dating app, actually.” 

The table went completely silent, and I immediately felt my stomach drop. It was as if I’d just said something very wrong. With just a quick glance in front of me, Spencer was basking in this. 

What a dick.

Emily hesitated to ask. “...Have you two met in person before?” 

Now it was my turn to hesitate to speak. “No, not yet.” 

I took another sip of my drink even though I wasn’t thirsty. I just wanted to hide any part of my face I could to shield myself from the five sets of eyes burning holes into me now, rather than just the one. Trying to make matters better, I spoke all too quickly, nearly sputtering on my beer. “I’m completely safe, though. Nothing sketchy’s going on, I promise.” 

“Of course,” JJ agreed. “We totally trust you,” neglecting to attach the cliche, ‘It’s him we don’t trust.’ But if she had, it would’ve spoken everyone’s bubble thoughts right about now. 

“Just be careful, mama.” Derek’s response felt the most sincere, and I honestly believed he was happy for me, but it didn’t change how much their judgement initially stung. 

For the rest of the night, I didn’t talk. No one noticed. 

Except maybe the last person I wanted to notice. 

I quietly slipped away somewhere in the night when the conversation was at its highest precisely so they wouldn’t question where I was going or if I was okay. If they had asked, the truthful answer to the former would’ve been ���just outside to get some air’ and the latter ‘no.’

The cool breeze drifted through the door like rising fog and for the briefest moment in time, I felt suspended in the space around me - I’d finally caught my breath. That feeling wouldn’t last long, though. 

I’d intentionally gone outside to compose myself until I came back a person who wasn’t on the verge of tears, but apparently, trying to pull myself only resulted in my falling apart. A ball of yarn unraveling is the closest comparison I can draw to what I must’ve looked like, crying quietly on the street.

“I figured I’d find you here.” 

It was the mere sound of someone’s voice that shocked me, but it was the person whose voice it was that led to the frustration that followed. 

“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be inside talking to the team of people who also agree with you about Grant?” 

He was too much of a nuisance to warrant exchanging eye contact with so I simply stared forward as I spoke and wiped the tears away that were still pooling on my lower lash line. I hoped he hadn’t actually seen me crying, but from what I could tell, he was probably standing there long before he said something. And if he was truly looking at me as deeply as it felt like right now, then he’d have noticed my bloodshot eyes, flushed cheeks, and unending sniffling. 

“Is that why you disappeared back there? Because you’re upset they didn’t exactly like the idea of your relationship?” The pain in the ass really tried, he really tried to get me to look at him by facing me and making these gestures with his hands that should’ve gotten my attention, but instead, I stayed put leaning against the wall, keeping my line of sight straight ahead. 

“(Y/n), they weren’t insulting you or judging you -”

“Then why did it feel like it?” For the first time since he’d joined me, I’d looked at him. I didn’t even mean to and I had every intention of denying him that privilege for the entire duration of our conversation, but as soon as I asked him my question, we locked eyes, and I saw it written all over his face. 

He felt sorry for me. 

Now, he could clearly make out how distraught I was from this unobstructed view of my face that was kindled by the dim, flickering yellow glow of the streetlight beside us. And he kept staring, looking into my eyes to read me just as easily and just as quickly as he read a book. 

“All we want is for you to be safe,” His voice crackled momentarily, and it actually touched some part of me for how genuine it sounded. “We weren’t trying to judge you or to insult you, and I’m sorry if it felt that way, but if we want your safety, and you tell us about something that could be potentially harmful, then of course we’re going to be apprehensive about it. That’s how people that care about you should react.”

“So are you saying that I don’t care about myself because I’m engaging in something risky?” Isn’t that the most ironic statement of this year? The definition of our job was risky, and even if this wasn’t the safest relationship on the planet, it was nothing like what we put ourselves through everyday being in the field. 

“No, that’s not what I’m saying -”

“So what are you saying?” I dared. He shook his head and sighed like he was about to give up, but I needed an answer. “No, please, do continue. Finish what you were gonna say. Since you apparently know everything, 187. Please go ahead - tell me what you think I should do.” 

Tell me what you really came out here to say, I ordered him with my eyes.

“I think I respect you more than you respect yourself, and that’s really saying something. Because if you actually liked yourself as much as I do, then you would realize that subjecting yourself to this nonsensicality of a long-distance relationship is not only dangerous - but insulting to your worth, too. You deserve more than that, (y/n).” He couldn’t have been clearer when he murmured a low and firm, “Much more.” 

The world was spinning on its axis too fast for me to process anything he said before snapping back at him. “So what exactly is it you want me to do?”

With utmost clarity in both annunciation and intention, he told me, “Break up with him.” 

Not a shadow of a doubt in his words. 

Then, like the phantom of the opera himself, he vanished back into the bar, but even if he had stayed, I wouldn’t have had anything to say to him. I was simply rendered speechless.

Circling back to my previous argument, I questioned once more why was it any of his business anyway? I was allowed to do as I pleased and I most certainly did not have to listen to him. And I didn’t. 

But I should’ve. 

_ _ _ 

My Monday morning meeting with Hotch wasn’t nearly as fire and brimstone as I thought it would be. It did however feel like the equivalent to an “I’m disappointed in you” parent speech. In some ways, I related to the average teen who was grounded. Except instead of my phone being taken away, it was my freedom. From now on, I could only follow executive orders that had been given to me. At least for the time being. 

It was clear that, deep down, some part of Hotch knew what I’d done was the right call, but he couldn’t give me any favors. Not until they were deserved on my end. 

Walking onto the jet after our meeting, however, felt more juvenile than the punishment itself. I was a kid again, re-entering my classroom after using the restroom, only to have all eyes on me as I came through the door.

As per usual, the only empty chair was next to Reid. There’d been too many instances of this happening to think it was just a coincidence. At this point, I had to assume it was by design. Whose design however? That I didn’t know.

“Hello, trouble,” He sang when I took my seat. 

I could only assume that this new nickname was based on what took place in Hotch’s office - thanks to him, need I remind you - but I didn’t care to know the origin because that would require talking to him, and for several reasons, that was the last thing I wanted to do. The first of which was what happened less than three days ago. An event we both hadn’t mentioned yet, and I hoped we never would. 

I took every preventative measure in the book. I changed seats with JJ. I moved to the couch. I even started reading in the little hallway between the kitchenette and bathroom of the jet to avoid sitting beside him, but against all my best efforts, he always found a way to bug me. When there’s a will, there’s a way. After exhausting any real reason he had to talk to me, he had to get creative. 

“You’ve been on that same page for four minutes and twenty-seven seconds.” I heard him say when he walked up to the kitchen to reach for the pot of coffee. Almost expecting I’d ask him what he meant, he added the explanation casually. “It never takes you more than three minutes and twelve seconds to move onto the next page. So either you’re not understanding the material or you’re not actually reading.”

It was utterly hilarious of him to imply that either of those things were definitely the answer. “What if I’m just taking my time reading this page, genius? Ever thought of that?” 

His eyes turned into slits as he leaned in closer to examine me. “You’re blinking rate just increased, too.”

“Stop!” I screeched childishly, pushing him away by his shoulders in an attempt to get him off my back, but he was far from off my back. No, he was right against it. More specifically, his hand was on the small of it. 

Leaning in so close that his lips were practically pressing on the shell of my ear, he whispered, “Come find me when you’re ready to tell me the truth.”

He didn’t need to know his words or actions had any sort of effect on me, so I kept the most stoic facial expression on, and I didn’t say a single thing back. He turned back around to leave with the hand on my back being the last thing to go. His lingering touch caused a shiver to run down my spine while paradoxically burning my body from the friction. 

I was disgusted with myself for having let him elicit any sort of reaction from me, even if he wasn’t aware of it. 

“Yeah ... well, d-don’t expect that to be anytime soon,” was my poor attempt at a retort to shut him up.

“Whatever you say, trouble.” 

_  _ _ 

Personal space can be a wonderful thing. Much less so when it’s invaded, however. 

After what felt like the longest flight ever, all I wanted was to take a shower and go to bed. My wishes were granted when I was able to wash off the stress and exhaustion and slip into a blush pink satin pajama set Grant sent me that I’d been meaning to wear. The plunging neck of the tank top was lined with lace and adorned with the tiniest little bow at the center. To match the shirt, the hem of the shorts were lined with lace that trailed up the small triangular slits on the side of the shorts, where at the vertex of them was the same little bow detail. For such a pure and innocent color as baby pink, you’d think it’d be somewhat less revealing. The longer I started at myself in the mirror while wearing it, the more aware I’d become of the intentions behind why Grant had sent it. 

How cute, I thought, rolling my eyes.

Gifts should always be appreciated, if for no other reason than the effort put into it, but this just felt slimy. There was obviously no valiant romantic intent behind the negligee, which spoiled the delight of receiving something out of the blue from him. What’s worse was that I wasn’t even sure how to thank him for something like this. 

Me: thank you for the pajamas. they’re so cute!

Lying was easier over text message, in case you were wondering what the perks of a long distance relationship were. 

Grant: good, I’m glad you like them. are you wearing them right now? 

But sometimes, when you should lie, you don’t. And you regret it later on - take it from me. 

Me: yeah, they’re super comfy

Grant: great! i wanna see them on! take a pic 

As if to compensate for the indisputable hatred I had for this lingerie and what it stood for in our relationship, I did the only thing I could think that would make him think I really liked them. That I felt good in them. 

I took pictures - not your ordinary, run-of-the-mill, Yelp review pictures, though - provocative ones. 

In the same breath I went to take them, though, Spencer’s words rang through my head. 

You deserve more than that. Much more. 

Shaking off the thought of Spencer, I decided against what the little voice in my head that sounded too similar to his would’ve said. 

To add to the illusion, I situated myself within the hotel sheets and used the front camera to capture my chest that was very much on display in this top. In the middle of rolling around the bed, trying to find the angles that wouldn’t show my face of dejection, the door opened. 

Instantaneously, I clawed at the sheets until they wrapped around me like a towel. I was ashamed to admit they provided more coverage than these ‘pajamas’ did.

My shriek of shock must’ve sounded familiar to the stranger intruding on me because no sooner did I scream than they questioned, “(Y/n)? What are you doing here?”

Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me. 

“Spencer, what the hell are you doing in here?” I grumbled, struggling to maintain a tight enough grip on the sheets that would keep them from falling and unveiling a sight I desperately did not want him to see. 

“I asked you first.” 

Boy, if you only knew how badly I wanted to slap that smirk right off his face. “This is my hotel room obviously. Your turn.” 

Returning just the same tone, inflection, and vocals, he imitated me. “This is my hotel room obviously.” Like one of those magic tricks he’d show Henry or Jack, he miraculously flashed a room key between his index and middle finger that wasn’t there before. 

“No, that’s impossible.”

“I opened the door, didn’t I?” That damn smirk was still there when he asked this. Maybe, just maybe, if it hadn’t been so condescending, I would’ve thought his sarcasm was ... attractive. Disgusting, I know. 

“Well, if you actually plan on staying here, then you’re sleeping on the floor or the couch, got it?”

My question went unanswered until I turned around to follow where he’d traveled in the time that I spent pondering how this happened. Now perched at the window, sitting on the arm of the chair in a way that chairs weren’t meant to be sat on, he continued to stare silently at me. 

“What? What is it?” I urged. 

“What’s going on with the …” He made a side to side sweeping motion with his key card. “Bed sheets?” 

Consciously, I shimmied the fabric further up my body. Seeing as there was virtually no way to escape an honest answer, I confessed. “If you must know ... I’m wearing p-pajamas.” My own body was rejecting the shameful admission causing the word to stumble out of my mouth. 

He didn’t need to know any more than that to gather what kind of garments they were. He already figured it out.

“Did Grant give them to you?”

I almost rolled my eyes at the implication. “What makes you say that?” 

“Because I know you,” He punctuated every word perfectly. “And I know that you wear big shirts and sweatpants to bed because you don’t see the point of spending money on clothes that are only made for you to sleep in - especially if they’re clothes that make you uncomfortable like these ones clearly do.” 

Although, I greatly despised the fact that there was even a little bit of a chance that I might’ve agreed with him, I still defended Grant. “It was a thoughtful gesture.”

“Thoughtful, right,” He scoffed. “And which head was he thinking with?” 

I was baffled he had the gall to say such an innuendo. “Spencer!”

How dare he? So what if Grant bought me something provocative because he was physically attracted to me? At least someone was. 

Despite the ferocity plain on his face, he chose not to pursue this conversation. Visibly biting back on words he knew would hurt me, Spencer managed to sound remarkably genuine when he promised me, “I won’t look if you don’t want me to.” 

I want you to, was my very first thought. Oh, God, that’s so fucked up, was my second. 

He underlined his sincerity by turning fully around until he was facing the window. “But we should probably put the sheets back on the bed if you plan on sleeping on it.”

He was so patient as he waited for me to remove the cloth from my body. It almost made me feel guilty. He didn’t grumble or gripe, nor did he pressure me to do it at all. So by rights, there should’ve been no reason for me to take so long to let the barrier fall - he wasn’t looking at me. But I was just so goddamn embarrassed. 

This wasn’t me, and even he knew that. 

“You can turn around now,” I mumbled quietly once my safety net of a bedsheet had abandoned me. My arms were crossed over my chest and my thighs were pressed so tightly against each other as if to limit the surface area that Spencer could scrutinize. 

That never came. 

He did look, I could tell that much. But it wasn’t a look I’d ever seen before. It wasn’t rage or annoyance or pity. It was a look of lust. 

A look that made me positively weak in the knees. A look far more sensual than even my racy garments. 

“I’ll just sleep in Morgan’s room tonight, okay?” He offered once he finally broke out of his incapacitation. Grabbing the two opposite corners of the sheets that I was holding, it was a team effort as we arranged the covers where they belonged. It was probably the longest period of time we’d ever worked together without fighting or talking at all for that matter..

Not a single word was exchanged between us while Spencer gathered his things to leave for Derek’s. The room started to feel dangerously empty in the stillness. 

When he slipped past me to make his way out, I caught his upper arm, successfully pulling him back around.

I could’ve been sweet, I should’ve. But that wasn’t our thing. So I settled for what came naturally to us and what would set off the least amount of red flags - I didn’t play nice. “As long as you promise not to hog the entire bed with your behemoth body, we can sleep together -” Catching the words as soon as they came out and what they could’ve implied, I began backtracking. “Sleep in the same bed. Sleep as in rest. Not sleep as in … anything else.” 

Then, in one of those rare moments- he laughed. He actually laughed. Like a real, hearty, sudden laugh. “I know what you meant, (y/n).” 

I’ll never forget the smile that followed the world’s greatest laugh either. 

Oh, God, I’m so fucked up. 

_ _ _

Spencer’s POV

Domesticated animals are smarter than we give them credit for. Studies have shown that pets can actually sense time; They know when it’s time for their owner to leave for the day and when they’ll be coming home, too. 

Animals aren’t dumb - and neither was I. 

Like a dog sniffing out their owner’s imminent absence in the home, I could tell (y/n) was leaving the hotel room for the night. If her current state wasn’t convincing enough, then her behavior throughout the entire day supported that theory just as well. 

Whether it was her phone, the clock on the wall, or her watch, she was evidently keeping a close eye on the time. She did it so often, though, that you would think she would just use simple deductions to figure out what time it was by estimating the time it was when she last checked, but nope. She rarely let more than a minute go by without monitoring the clock.

My suspicions didn’t end there. What’s more suggestive was the anxious fidgeting. She had her tells of anxiety - everyone does - but this was a level of stress I’d never seen her exhibit before, not even in the field. 

She kept cracking her knuckles, even when she’d exhausting all the popping noises she could from them. Her leg-bobbing was another big tell, too. I tend to sit on tables rather than in the chairs at said table, allowing me to feel the earthquake occurring on the precinct floor. Her leg was bouncing up and down so vigorously it was practically shaking the room. 

I would’ve asked her what she was so impatient about, but I feared I already knew the answer.

Grant.

And if I never heard that name roll off her tongue again, it would be too soon. 

That didn’t mean I couldn’t ask where she was going, though.

Pretending to read Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, I barely let my eyes venture far off the page when I loudly asked from the window seat, “So where are you going tonight, trouble?” 

The faintest sound of a chuckle erupted in the bathroom, most likely from the nickname I hadn’t let die yet. 

“Nunya,” was her ever-so mature answer. 

I didn’t want to give her the chance to say ‘nunya business’ like I knew she would, so I quickly interjected with a monotone, “How clever of you.” If she wanted to be a child about this, then so be it. 

“Let’s see. You brought your good heels out of your suitcase, which you only wear on special occasions. And you put on a different perfume than the one you usually use, so I’m assuming it’s new. ... If I didn’t know any better, trouble, I’d say you’re going on a date.” 

She peeked her head out of the bathroom doorway to say, “You’re creepy, you know that?” 

Seeing the small portion of her face that was embellished with a smile would’ve been enough if only I knew what dress she was hiding in behind that wall. I had yet to see that part of her ensemble, but if I had to guess, it would break my heart. 

“Just saying,” I casually lied while clearing my throat. 

“Well,” I heard her begin from within the bathroom. “Not that it’s any of your business, but Grant is meeting me tonight.” 

Kill me now.

“I thought Grant lived in D.C.” Not that that would change much if he was already here. 

“Yes, he does, but he’s driving all the way here to meet me. Seeee,” She drew out the word. “Would a serial killer do that?” 

I refrained from giving the obvious answer: Yes. 

“Well, I hope you don’t plan on bringing him back here. Otherwise, that’d be terribly awkward, don’t you think?” My allusion to the possibility that Grant would come back here to find me in her bed was borne from the intentions that were a complete contradiction to the words I’d just spoken. It, in fact, wouldn’t be terribly awkward. No, it would be fun. For me at least. 

I would have loved to have seen the look on his face, and the worry on hers as she tried to explain who I was and why I had any right to be in (y/n)’s gravity. 

The room went silent again while I stayed on the same page of my book and, unbeknownst to her, waited for her to enter the room. How long she was taking was starting to worry me, though. 

“Need any help in there?” I called out.

“Nope,” She said through a strained voice that proved she was indeed struggling with something. 

“Really?” I asked once more to give her another opportunity to lower her colossal pride. “Cause it sounds like you need help.” 

“Nope. I’m good.” Liar. 

I knew her too well. I counted down to the exact second when she finally scrambled to ask, “Can you help me zip up my dress?”

“Yyyup.” I’d already resigned to the fact that I would have to help her, bouncing happily off the bed when she finally admitted it and letting myself lose the page I was on as I tossed the book haphazardly behind me. 

I was forced to join her in the bathroom for it was already hard for her to humble herself enough to ask me for help, so she certainly couldn’t be expected to lower her pride again and walk out to a place more convenient for me. 

The first thing I noticed was that it was a space clearly not made for two. It was so cramped that I ended up right against her in order to fit. The second thing I noticed was how she made no movements to distance herself. She was so close to me that I could actually see the little hairs on the back of her neck standing up from where my breath ghosted on the area. The sterile smell of hotel bathrooms had been replaced by the flowery, aromatic scent of her new perfume, and my heart broke all over again. 

Using the back of my fingers, I cast a barely-there caress on her neck to stroke her hair out of the way to clear the path of the zipper. The little hairs on the back of her neck stood up again. 

She liked that.

“So do I get to know where you’re going?” I reached for the zipper on the small of her back. “For safety purposes, of course.” 

“Aww, you looking out for me, Dr. Reid?” She teased in a seductive tone while gathering her hair into a makeshift ponytail that for the shortest second recorded in time might’ve reminded me of a constantly recurring intrusive image. 

“Always, trouble.” 

The zipper fastened with absolutely no resistance all the way to the top. My eyes flashed to the mirror to catch her expression, which told me everything I needed to know. 

What a pretty little liar. She didn’t actually need my help. 

Comprehending that the realization dawned on me, she gave me what she knew would shut me up. “We’re going to The Rooftop at Lamont’s.” 

How effortlessly she slipped past me without a thank you or a glance in my direction served as a rude awakening.

“Well, you should take an umbrella with you. It looks like there’s gonna be a storm tonight.” This was my small way of coming to terms with the reality of the situation. 

“Eh,” She waved my suggestion off with a dismissive hand. “We’ll be fine. Oh, and don’t even think about stalking me!” She warned before exiting the room.

In the blink of an eye, she was gone - my peace of mind having left with her. 

_ _ _ 

The amount of sleep you need varies for each person and is affected by several factors. However, for most adults, 7–9 hours per night is the ideal amount. And I was slowly reducing that optimal quantity, hour by hour, until there was none left. 

I would continue to sacrifice my sleep so long as I was awake for her return. If she’d asked why I was still up, I would lie. Though I wouldn’t look half so pretty as she did when she lied. 

Losing rest seemed like such a small price to pay to make sure I was fully alert in the event that an emergency happened, even if I would suffer the consequences in the morning. But hey - that’s what caffeine is for, isn’t it? To re-energize oneself after staying up to guarantee one’s enemy’s safety. 

Yeah, I’m sure that’s exactly why Kaldi invented coffee in 750 A.D. 

Besides the thunderstorm, my mind also made great company for situations like these. Granted, the visions it would project kept me up for a reason - they were all so awful. 

There was simply no projected reality where things would turn out alright. 

If she had the time of her life on her date, she would come back to throw it in my face that I’d been wrong, and her admiration for Grant would have deepened. 

Or if he stood her up, she’d be devastated, but instead of letting me console her, she’d push me away as easily as she always did.

In a more neutral instance, perhaps she would admit it wasn’t as great meeting him as she thought it would be and the relationship would fade out for innocent reasons. Even if that seemed like the most favorable circumstance, she would eventually grow to resent me for planting the seed of doubt in her head in the first place.

But nothing- nothing I could have imagined would be as treacherous as what actually happened.

At exactly 1:09 a.m, my phone started to ring. I can’t explain to you what it was, but I just knew - it was her calling, and it wasn’t even her number.

“(Y/n)? Is everything okay?” 

If she said something beforehand, I couldn’t hear her because the storm was too loud and her voice was too quiet. “Did I wake you up?” 

I reassured her with a tone I didn’t even recognize. “No, no. I was awake. Why? What’s up?” The line went quiet again, forcing me to prompt her to speak in order to find out if she was still there on the call. “(Y/n)?”

“Spencer ...” She choked out a hoarse sob. “I need you. I need you to come get me, please.” 

My eyes clenched shut at the dreadful sound of her sorrow, and I jolted into action. After scrambling to gather the keys to her car that she’d left behind, I fled the room faster than ever before. 

“I’m on my way, (y/n). Stay right there. You’re at The Rooftop at Lamont’s right?” 

The poor thing took the longest pause in history, either from shame or disorientation. “He threw me in the back of his car and drove me all the way to D.C. I …” Her breath caught on her dry throat again. “I, um, I managed to escape and now I’ve barricaded myself in a payphone booth. I haven’t called the police yet. You were the first person I thought to call. I just, I just needed to hear your voice.”

My knuckles turned an unfamiliar shade of white when I gripped the steering wheel, picturing her caged up in a rectangular box, dialing my number instead of 911 just so she could hear my voice.

“Everything is gonna be okay. I promise you. My ETA is 1:28. That’s in 19 minutes. Are you okay being there for that long or do you want to find somewhere safer?”

I could no longer distinguish the difference between talking to her right now and talking to a victim in distress. I was speaking with the same tone and inflection but feeling a sharp pain in my chest that wasn’t there before. 

“I can stay here. Just ... don’t hang up, okay?” The fact that the possibility of me abandoning her over the phone even crossed her mind was more than enough to get me to drive well over the speed limit. 

The list of traffic infractions only grew from there because honestly? Screw my safety or anyone else’s. Her’s was the only one that mattered. She was the priority. 

She was my priority. 

Throughout the entire call, I kept repeating, “You’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay.” Frankly, it was something we both needed to hear. 

It was both the fastest and slowest 19 minutes of my life. Time no longer felt real when I finally found the payphone booth that boxed in my troublesome girl. No sooner did I drive up to the sidewalk than I ran out of the car to sprint the short distance to free her from her coop.

“(Y/n)!” I shouted, swinging the door open and throwing caution to the wind in the process. Immediately, she dropped the phone, not even bothering to replace it onto its receiver. 

The pouring rain had stripped her of her dignity. Mascara ran down her face in pigmented streams of black. Her curled hair was dampened into strings. But worse of all, it hadn’t washed away the darkening bruises on her skin.

“Oh my god, Spencer!” She cried as she ran into my open arms. 

Her body collided with mine in such a gentle manner that I had to wonder how that was possible at all or if it was a figment of my imagination. Was our collision actually that gentle or did it seem that way because of how good it felt to have her arms and legs latch around my entire torso, crossing and connecting somewhere in between?

With one arm under her thighs to hold her up, I pulled her impossibly closer to me by cradling the back of her head with the other hand. 

Her small hands found their way into my hair, a new sensation I tried not to indulge in so as not to let my attention stray away from the little life I was holding in my arms. 

She was so cold. 

Shivering from my warm embrace, her teeth chattered as she whispered, “I’m so sorry, Spencer. You were right I should’ve listened -”

“Shh, it’s okay, (y/n),” I said with the hopes that I could make the pounding heart that was thumping against my shoulder settle down until it reached her standard heart rate of 67 beats per minute. 

After a second of just holding her wordlessly, she spoke again. 

“I don’t wanna fight.” She surrendered so easily to me that I could hardly believe this was her at all. 

“I don’t wanna fight with you either.” 

That was entirely true. Fighting with her was the last thing on my mind. The first was getting her into my car. 

It was easier that I imagined it would be, but then again, it’s easy to do things when you’re motivated in this way. 

Before I loosened my hold on her to shut the passenger door, she squeezed me a little tighter, as if to be absolutely certain this was real and not some cruel dream.

“Thank you,” She hummed into the crook of my neck. From where her shoulder was digging into my throat, I couldn’t exactly respond verbally, so I settled for rubbing my hand up and down her back comfortingly. 

“Let’s take you home,” I basically said to myself seeing as it was too quiet to be discernible. 

“No,” She shook her head rapidly. “Take me to your apartment.”

“What?”

“I don’t want to go back to the hotel right now. I need to be somewhere I feel safe.”

My apartment is closer than the hotel, I reasoned, pretending it was the logic of it that made my heart swell and not the statement I would fixate on for the entire duration of the ride there. 

I need to be somewhere I feel safe. 

And that’s wherever I’m with you.

_ _ _ 

Reader’s POV

Porcelain wall tiles gleamed back at me, mocking my wretched misery. They were much prettier than me, but then again, anything else would be prettier than me right about now.

I certainly wasn’t the belle of the ball in my bare naked state. The fact that I was sitting in a pool of my own washed off dried blood didn’t help either.

I would’ve looked away from the bright white walls, but where else were I to look? Into the pair of eyes that I was deliberately avoiding? The ones that were staring a hole through me right now? No. I couldn’t bear to meet those eyes. So I kept looking forward at the mean walls - those mean, mocking walls.

“Is the water warm enough?” He asked, dipping a finger into the bathwater to test it himself. 

I watched as his hand snuck into the tub and swirled around some water, causing soap bubbles to revitalize. 

For a reason I didn’t know nor could remember at this given moment, Spencer drove me to his apartment. That memory of why I was here was fuzzy, but the rest following my arrival was more vivid. Perhaps because it was all unfolding right now.

“I think I should go,” I murmured. The bathwater had gone cold, and the silence was too deafening. If I didn’t leave now, then I would be trapped forever. 

I leaned forward with my knees still pressed to my chest to protect my modesty while I tugged on the silver drain plug of the tub to release the suction.

“You can’t go home. You’ll be alone again, and who will be there to help you that time?” 

“I don’t need anybody’s help.” I responded curtly. 

“Then why did you call me tonight?”

“Why did you answer?” 

He was stunned by how I didn’t miss a beat with my question, stunned enough to purse his lips in contempt. “Should I have declined your call then? Said ‘no’ instead and let you fend for yourself? You know what - my bad, (y/n). I sincerely apologize that I care about you.” 

I scoffed at his factiousness. “No, what you should’ve done is whatever the hell you wanted to do. But clearly, since you said ‘yes’ and came to my rescue like I’m some victim in a case - you wanted to be there. I could chalk that up to you having a hero complex, but I think it’s time for you to admit you just wanted to see me at my worst so you could throw it in my face like you’re doing right now.”

He clenched his jaw in fury, muttering under his breath, “I should’ve left you in that booth.” 

This crossed a line, but I was just as ready to cross it, too. 

“But I bet you liked saving me. Seeing me as a damsel in distress that you could white knight. You like that, Spence? Does my weakness settle your deep rooted fear of inadequacy in strength?”

Shouldn’t have done that. 

For a second there, I was sincerely scared of the response I might’ve just elicited, so I shot up from the tub and grabbed the towel on the rack, quickly wrapping myself in it and avoiding Spencer’s gaze the entire way out of the bathroom.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Judging from the loudness of his voice, he was right on my heels, following me close behind. 

“You’re smart. Figure it out.” 

“God, why do you have to be such a pain in the ass? I don’t want to leave you like this.” It never failed to amaze me how he could both show disdain and concern for me in the matter of a sentence. 

“Well, you’re not leaving me like this - I’m leaving you like this.” My clever remark angered him more.

Seemingly from out of nowhere, Spencer called out from the end of his hallway, “What are you so scared of?” 

Reaching the end of my rapidly fraying rope, I spun around to throw my arms out to my side in just the same defensive manner as he did. “Nothing! Maybe I just don’t wanna be stuck in the apartment of the man who hates me! Can you blame me?” 

He ran a hasty hand through his hair, pulling at the strands out of pure irritation. “Why do you keep saying I hate you? How can any of what I’ve done for you tonight suggest that?”

He’d chosen his words carefully and for that, he was smart. His inclusivity of the word ‘tonight’ meant I could only reference his actions from the past few hours, which wouldn’t help my case, as opposed to the months and months that he’d given me the cold shoulder, which would have helped my case. But again, he was smart - he had me in a deadlock. I couldn’t accept defeat, but what could I possibly argue against his point? 

My body literally shook from the power of the deep groan that tore through my chest. “God, what do you want from me, Spencer?” I wanted nothing more than to be far, far away from him, but my body was resisting all those urges. Lunging forward, I pointed the sternest index finger at him, staring the most unforgiving glare into his soul. “Tell me - tell me what you want! Because when I was nice to you, you-you treated me like shit. And then when I stopped being nice to you, you still treated me like shit. So what -” I had to laugh to alleviate the sheer rage I was feeling. “What the fuck do you want from me? Because it’s like no matter what I do, it’s just not good enough for you!”

His eyebrows had furrowed and his eyes softened. He didn’t look angry whatsoever. No, he looked hurt. 

“Not good enough for me?” He leaned down to my level to look right into my eyes. “You are everything … everything to me.”

With one last breath, I cried out in anguish, “Then why? Why do you hate me so much?” 

He gulped back the lump in his throat - the last barrier that kept him from telling the truth. 

“I ... I never hated you. I just need to be in control of my thoughts and feelings at all times, otherwise, I feel-I feel like I’m going crazy. Like I’m on the verge of a psychotic break that I’m genetically predisposed to have. But when you came around - I lost all my control. You were inhabiting my dreams, you were stealing my sleep, occupying more and more space in my brain until there was no more room left to take. God, I think about you all the time, and I literally cannot physically stop it. I have no control anymore,” and somehow him saying that sounded something like an ‘I love you.’ 

“The only thing I could control was how I treated you. I thought being awful to you would get you to despise me enough to make me despise you, too, and while it was easier to be angry at you, it was so much worse having you hate me.”

“I never hated you, Spencer.” Never. 

“You should have,” He rasped. “I know I don’t deserve you, but I wish to spend every day proving that I want you. Oh, I want you so bad,” He sharply inhaled through gritted teeth, and I unconsciously laughed in return. His pain wasn’t funny in the least. What was amusing was knowing that he had the same excruciating longing for me that I had for him. 

“I don’t want control anymore if it means I can’t have you.”

He leaned in so carefully that I almost didn't register the movement at all. Our hearts were pounding to the same synchronized beat. We were the shore and the tide one in the same. Our breaths would draw in and out, in and out, as he held my face so gently. We were still the shore and the tide, but more than anything we were drowning in the ocean of ourselves. The rising waters of his admiration threatened to flood every empty nook and cranny of the room until it swallowed me whole. All I could feel was him, everywhere, filling absolutely everything. 

“Wow ... I finally got you speechless,” The cocky bastard hummed happily, letting his words vibrate on the smallest part of my lip.

“Oh, shut up,” I declared through a smirk I needed to fight off before finally closing that nearly imperceptible gap between us. 

All the forces in the world couldn’t tear us apart after we connected. They were no match for the force Spencer’s hands had as they pulled me impossibly closer. The pressure might’ve even been unbearable had it not been for the velvety pair of lips giving me back all the oxygen it stole from my lungs just seconds ago. They were so soft, like freshly washed sheets, like biting into cotton candy, like floating for the first time, feeling utterly weightless in water. It’s sweet, it’s so effortlessly sweet. 

Not nearly as sweet as the words that followed our parting. 

“Not enough for me?” He repeated, recalling my previous claim. “You’ve had me since the day you walked in, trouble.” 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

fingers crossed this fic doesn’t flop!

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