#hope they get their spotlight somewhere along the road...

[nightfal1n]

Coping Day 9: When in doubt, draws kn8 merch

[rampents]

| zendaya & she/her | Welcome to the crossroads, CATIE CATCHER. Another lost soul that stumbled across a fallen tree in their path. They appear to be 25 years old, but it’s hard to tell. The town bares no resemblance to LOS ANGELES, are you sure we can trust them? Seeing as they ended up here because, SHE WENT TRAVELLING TO GET AWAY. They definitely weren’t looking to end up here. Now they’ll have to rely on being CONFIDENT to survive. Hopefully their HOTHEADED doesn’t get in the way of that. I guess if we’re going to pass the time tonight, might as well request THE PHANTOM BUZZ by DECLAN MCKENNA. Oh, and one more thing, your new role here will be STORE CLERK. We’ll be sending out welcoming party over to the MOTEL. Welcome to Oblitus, the only thing you have to remember, when the sun sets– don’t open the door.

Born into Hollywood, Catie’s life was orchestrated by her parents: her father, an unsuccessful actor, thrust her into the spotlight, seeing her as his last chance at fame.Her mother, a well-known director, supported this to appease her father, grateful that it stopped his endless complaints about his career.From a young age, Catie learned to mask her feelings; any resistance to her parents' plans led to her father calling her ungrateful, forcing her to perform a “perfect daughter” act.

As Catie got older, her anger grew sharper. She tried to push it down, and it came out in other ways: outbursts on set, arguments with fellow cast members, and eventually, an attitude problem that branded her as “difficult.” When directors or producers gave her orders that felt too controlling, she’d snap. Despite her struggles, Catie became a recognisable child actress, starring in several TV shows and movies. However, by the age of 20, she could no longer endure the demands of her career and decided to disappear from the industry.

She fled to London, wanting a fresh start. Catie dabbled in teaching an acting class, but her lack of passion (and talent for that matter) for the craft rendered her ineffective as a teacher. She also tried her hand at writing, producing a debut book that fictionalised her childhood in the industry. She attempted painting, but her works lacked depth. She ventured into photography, only to find her skills were mediocre at best. Graphic design, jewellery making, and even a brief stint as a musician followed, but none of these pursuits worked out. Each new venture would start with excitement, but as soon as things got tough or she faced criticism, her frustration would turn to rage, and she’d quit before she could "fail."

Defeated, embarrassed, Catie relocated to Manchester, hoping to carve out a more conventional life away from her past. While the book garnered some attention, it wasn’t actually all that good and she stopped doing that too.

In Manchester, it seemed manageable for a while, but with her father back in her life, her old triggers flared up. His attempts to control her life, combined with his sense of entitlement to her inheritance, stoked her anger again, yet she couldn’t bring herself to confront him outright. Instead, Catie’s anger came out in bursts: shouting at strangers, smashing dishes, leaving situations abruptly. Her impulse to keep running—to leave her anger and the people triggering it behind—was strong. She decided to take off travelling. Despite her first trip being to Brazil, she finds herself in a deceptively American town. Welcome to Oblitus!

- how did they find the tree that led them here? what were they doing?

Catie was drifting from town to town with no particular plan. After a few weeks in Brazil, she booked a budget bus ticket to a coastal town. Somewhere along the route, the bus took a detour. While most passengers seemed unbothered, Catie grew restless. The landscape felt disorientingly wrong—dense forests pressing in on both sides of the road, with no sign of towns or rest stops. After hours on this unfamiliar route, the bus finally halted at a strange wooded clearing. They’d stopped to help someone change a flat tire. Impatient and wanting to stretch her legs, Catie wandered off into the trees.

She spotted an enormous old oak tree, its roots coiled and twisted, partially rising from the earth as though inviting her to step closer. She reached out, touching the bark—and suddenly felt a rush, almost like a sharp tug. She stumbled forward, losing her footing. When she straightened and looked around, the forest seemed different—too quiet, too dense. She looked back for the bus, but it was gone, replaced by eerie silence.

- describe your character’s first day/night in town? 

Catie's first day in the town is surreal, unsettling. When she first stepped out of the trees and into the heart of the town, it was too unbelievably quiet. The buildings look worn, faded, as if they hadn’t been touched for years. As she wanders the streets, Catie feels like she‘s walking through the set of an abandoned movie.

She eventually comes across a group of people gathered in what looked like a town centre. Relieved to see anyone, she approaches, half-expecting them to recognize her from her old acting days. Instead, the townsfolk just exchanged wary glances. She asks the way out of town but is met with, ‘There is no way out.’

She laughs, assuming they’re trying to scare her. But as the day wears on, the reality begins to sink in. She wanders the roads, trying to find a path back to the tree where she had first arrived, but each attempt leads her back into the town. Frustrated and confused, her anger starts to bubble up. She confronts a few people, demanding answers, but they just look at her with pity and fear.

[danicalithegirl]

Somewhere in the Rockies (One Shot #12)

The tour had been a grueling experience for everyone involved, but I couldn’t resist tagging along. I wanted to be close to Eddie, to soak up every moment of his journey and support him as he stepped into the spotlight. It felt like the perfect opportunity to share in his world, even if it meant enduring the long hours on the road and the chaos that came with it.

The guys had collectively decided on a bigger bus to accommodate the dogs and me. They didn’t want to hear Eddie and me in the bunk, if you know what I mean. However, this bus was far from new, breaking down more times than I could count over the past three months. The worn-out seats sagged beneath us, and the air smelled faintly of spilled beer and old pizza. On one particularly bumpy ride, I remember Ozzy barking at the ceiling, convinced a phantom had taken residence above us, while Eddie laughed, his voice echoing through the cramped space. We were grateful for the extra room, but it was definitely not the luxury tour experience we had hoped for.

Today, somewhere in the Rockies in late October, had turned into a test of endurance. The bus had broken down yet again, and with no cell signal in sight, we’d decided to brave the elements and hike through the woods to find help. I pulled on my beanie and wrapped a thick scarf around my neck, while Eddie threw on his famous bandana, the fabric slightly frayed from countless gigs. The cold air nipped at our cheeks, and the first drops of sleet began to fall, turning the earthy trail into a slick, muddy mess.

“C’mon, let’s go, guys!” Eddie called to the dogs, who seemed more eager to explore than to march forward. We trudged through the underbrush, the crunch of twigs beneath our boots mingling with the distant rustling of leaves. The scent of pine filled the air, mingling with the earthy aroma of wet soil as we navigated the slippery terrain.

After what felt like hours of hiking—slipping and sliding through the mud—we finally caught sight of a tiny town in the distance, maybe one stoplight wide. The sun was beginning to dip behind the peaks, casting long shadows that danced through the trees as we emerged from the woods, breathless and covered in dirt. Eddie stood before me, silhouetted against the dimming light, the cold wind tousling his hair into wild, chaotic curls. He looked rugged, like a rockstar straight out of a dream.

As we stepped into the fading light, I caught him staring, and a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. But this time, there was something softer in his expression, a glint of sincerity that sent my heart racing.

“Y’know,” he began, his breath visible in the chilly air, “today’s been… rough. I can’t believe you’d even do this with me. Any of this, actually. You do way too much for my crazy rockstar ass.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle, brushing some dirt off my sleeve. “Well, someone’s gotta keep you grounded.”

He shook his head, his smile fading into something more serious. “No, really. I’ve known for a long time… like three years ago when we started dating. But today… it’s just wild. We need to get inside that gas station for help and a hot meal—and water for all of us. Ozzy and Ronnie look completely wiped. But I’ve been wanting to ask you something for a while… ever since before the tour started. I couldn’t find the right moment, then you decided to tag along…”

His fingers fumbled in his jacket pocket, and I could feel the anticipation humming in the air between us. The sleet began to fall harder, creating a cold mist that surrounded us, but it didn’t matter.

“Anyway,” he continued, glancing down nervously, “I’ve had this burning a hole in my pocket for months now… Totally forgot it was in my jacket pocket until we got here, but here goes…”

He pulled out a small black velvet box and opened it, revealing a simple yet beautiful silver ring that glimmered in the dim light.

“Will you marry me?” he asked, his voice steady despite the chaos around us.

I stood there, my heart pounding in my chest, unable to form words. The cold faded into the background, and all I could see was him—eyes full of love and hope. I nodded vigorously, tears brimming as I pulled him into a tight embrace, our laughter mingling with the sound of the wind.

“Yeah, of course! Yes!”

He slid the ring onto my finger, the cool metal a stark contrast to the warmth of his hand. Then he leaned down, kissing me softly, the moment feeling both surreal and perfect.

After a beat, we pulled back, breathless, and he gently took my hand, giving my fingers a squeeze.

“Alright, let’s get our butts into that gas station and find some help,” he said, glancing at the dogs, who were wagging their tails as if they knew something special had just happened.

Together, we walked into the gas station, hands intertwined, our hearts racing with excitement and a sense of adventure. We were tired, dirty, and in the middle of nowhere, but as long as we were together, it felt like home.

[tommyspeakycap]

Hi love, I adore your writing so much! And as you just asked for some ideas/concepts here’s mine for Jack Grealish from prompts list 2: fluff #11 where he’s asking her (she’s his best friend) to go for a walk cause there’s so much going on in his life and he just needs to talk. fluff #36, angst #31 and a happy ending please? Basically a Best friends to lovers thing as I’m a sap for that…thank you!! xx

Fluff #11; “I know it’s 2 in the morning but do you want to…”

Fluff #36; “because I fell for you, isn’t it obvious?”

hope I did this justice for you!

Fell for you

“Jesus god,” you grumbled with hands aimlessly palming across the mattress for the blaring sound of your phone from its place charging somewhere on the bed. Your next move is an elongated “Ahhhhh,” sound, fatigue still holding tightly onto your body in a way that seals your eyes shut even as you try to shut off the sound your phone was deafening your with. In a wakened state, you might’ve noticed that it was your ringtone that had interrupted your sleep. However as tired as you were you ruled it as your alarm right away and moved yourself into seated position with the duvet still wrapped tight around you and your eyes still shut.

You were suspended in that space between being asleep and being awake, still sitting up when the offensive sound came screaming through your phone once again.

This time, your eyes snapped open in fright and the fatigue-blurred letters of Jack Grealish’s name popped up across the top of your screen.

“How is it morning already?” You protest down the line, a heavy sigh passing your lips to follow. Jack’s chuckle can be heard through the line, “It’s not.” He replies simply, prompting you to pull your phone away from your ear to hold out in front if your face.

02:17am

“Then why on earth am I up?” You mumble, a question more posed to yourself than the man on the other end. “Wait, why are you up? And why are you calling so early?”

“I’m outside your door.”

“You’re what?!” You throw back your duvet and swing your legs over the side of the bed. You’ve hung up the phone already by the time you reach the front door at a tired shuffle. His hair is tousled when you see him, like he’s been running his hands through it over and over, you imagine that he has. He does that when he’s stressed. You have to squint against the street lights and his car headlights outside, still on as it sits running on the street. “Can we go somewhere?” He asks, his voice as desperate as his eyes look when he speaks, begging you to agree. Not that he would need to beg. You’d do anything for that man. Even if it did mean dragging yourself from your bed at 2 in the morning.

“Course.”

No question, no pressure. He loves that from you. He knows you’ll ask him later and when the time is right you’ll force him to tell you of course. Now is not that time yet and you’re nowhere near awake enough to do so much anyway. “Let me just grab my-“

“I have a hoodie in the car and your shoes in my boot.” He cuts in, tugging your arm gently out the door of your house. He knows you better than any other person in this world, so he knows full and well that there’s not much you are going to do in the way of protesting when you’re so soon out of sleep. He’d often teased with layers of worry deeper beneath that he genuinely worried for you living on your own. You open the door to people far too easily, and he will not fail to bring that up sometime tomorrow. For now, he steps into your doorway where you had stood moments before, grabs your keys from the cabinet and pulls the door closed behind him with a click of the latch locking behind him.

The cold paving stones beneath your feet make you shine in protest, shifting your weight between each one to ease the chill. In was in that cold that you look down and make the realisation, or rather come to remember the fact that you don’t have any pyjama bottoms on. “Jack!” You yelp, “I’m not wearing trousers!” You suddenly feel very exposed and rightly so, standing outside your home suddenly very awake in only a long claret and blue shirt that only extended down to the middle of your thighs. “Eh?” He whips around, “You what?”

It’s only now he really takes you in with rosy cheeks from embarrassment, your hair messed up from your sleep. His frantic eyes soften and his heart stops thundering in his chest finally. The sight of you there calms him. You’re there. Right there. His (y/n) is right there in front of him.

“What’s the rush, Jack? Is everything okay?”

Your gentle words and tired eyes bring him back to the ground, the flurry of his racing thoughts only now finally calmed. He often acts on impulse, but you are always able to slow his brain down a few paces. His sits heavily, "I know it's two am but...do you think we could go somewhere. My heads fuckin'... I don't even know." He dips back down to run that hand through his hair once again. His words stoke a bit of a worry in you, head tilted to the side in question. Jack doesn't tend to be the kind who gets himself panicked and all wound up like he has right now. That's more your half of the friendship. You did the worrying, he did the easygoing.

"It's okay, Jack. Of course. Come on then, let's go." You nod your head and he goes around the back of the car to get the shoes and socks he promised you. You very nearly choked up a lung when he presented you with a brand new Balenciaga box. "What the fuck, Jack?" You all but wheeze out, head whipping towards him climbing into the passenger seat.

"Got you a present 'cause I'm leaving soon." He shrugs with a jaw-dropping ease. You list open the lid and inside sit a pair of sliders that cost nearly £400. You physically gawp. "Oh my god."

"What?" Jack asks, drawing out of his parking spot on the street, "Heard you telling your mum you needed new sliders for the summer, do you not like 'em?"

His nerves would be clear in his voice if you hadn't been in such a ferocious level of shock. You're glad you weren't eating anything because it surely would have choked you to death. Of course you had seen Jack wearing brands like Balenciaga, Gucci, Versace and the likes, but you had never owned such an expensive piece of clothing. "I mean of course I love them, J but I meant from Primark or bloody amazon, you shouldn't have spent al that money on me." You protested, but Jack really pays it no mind. In fact, the suggestion that you don't deserve everything luxurious that this world has to offer offends him more than it does anything else. You should know that you deserve everything good that this world can give and he has the means to actually give that to you. He'd count himself an absolute fool not to.

"Gonna pretend you didn't say that." He mutters, eyes kept carefully on the empty road ahead of his car. Your eyebrows are furrowed, a part of you brain still very much trying to a) wake up and b) process the expensive of the gift he handed to you so casually. "Not arguing about it either." His voice cuts you off the second you open your mouth to speak, shutting down your protest before it even leaves you.

As the fatigue of your sleep wears off, your mind continues to be just as boggled as it had been the moment his name popped up on your screen at 2am, if not more boggled now.

"You're acting so weird, Jack. What the hell is going on with you today?" Your insistence is careful with your pressure. It's enough to try to open him up but not enough to make it sound like a confrontation. Neither you nor Jack like confrontation especially with each other. The words make him chew on his lip as he careens the large white range rover through a turn that leads up a gravel road that crunches beneath his tires. The stops when he's met with a with a large gate that prevents cars but a little slot for people to walk through. Jack leaves his door open when he leaves the car with a curtly mumbled "Stay here" as he does. He pushes open the gate with ease before he gets back in the car and follows the path up the hill further.

He stop abruptly in a very small gravel car park without any parking lines to abide and steps out, slamming his door behind him like he absolutely always does; you swear that man couldn't be quiet if his life depended on it. Which was another reason why you were so surprised by his silence. You clamber out after him with that same fear of falling flat on your face that always fills your mind each and every time you leave his car. But Jack is where he has been every time you step out the Range Rover since the first day he got it; standing by your door to hold your hand so you can jump out without a trip onto the gravel beneath. He shuts the door behind you and hands you a spare pair of his loose fitting track pants.

On an average day you might've teased the reason he hasn't worn them was because they wouldn't have squeezed the life out his legs. Today wasn't one of those days, so you slip them on without a word. Followed up by his way too big for you socks and the brand new black slides. Even wide awake, this confuses you to no end. Jack was never quiet and never elusive. He was boisterous, loud, open and confident.

The second you turn around, you realise why he brought you here.

The view of the stars, the sky completely clear. There wasn't a street lamp in sight. The moon provided the kind of spotlight hue that you kind of thought only existed in the enhancement of Hollywood movies. "Woah," you breathe, words stolen by its beauty.

"Yeah," Jack laughs, "Now you know how I feel every time I look at you."

You head turns to him so fast it sends your head spinning a little, or maybe that's just the shock of his words. You couldn't tell.

"What?"

He shrugs his shoulders, scuffing his feet along the gravel to meet up with where you stand. But he freezes before he gets the chance.

"Why are you wearing that?" He asks, a very sudden cold change in his tone that actually makes your body feel colder. "Wearing what? This?" You gesture to the claret and blue shirt you had thrown on in a haste to get to him standing at your front door a short while ago. You turn to see his unhappy scowl and the firm discontented cross of his strong arms. "Yeah that," he grumbles, "And where'd you even get it." He adds with a flare of his nostrils. He looks adorable angry like this, like he's trying so hard to look angry when his emotions lie truly elsewhere.

You look down at the shirt with furrowed brows, before you shift your shoulder forward, crane your neck and pull the material around to view the back as best you could. "What's wrong with it?" You ask finally, attempts to defy the natural state of your body failing to allow you to see your back.

"It's Ginny's." Jack states as if its the most obvious thing in the world. You just look at him bewildered. "And?"

He huffs as he takes a few more heavy steps up to you, looking like he had a lot of things to say without any way of being able to get them to coordinate from his brain to his lips. "Why do you have Ginny's shirt though?"

You breathe a little bit of laughter at him, shaking your head softly. "it was just a joke. I saw him after a match waiting for you so I jumped out at him and pretended to be a fan for a video and he signed it and gave to me as a joke. I just threw it on when you showed up at my door in the middle of the night. Wasn't exactly a fashion statement."

Jack still grunts in dissatisfaction at your answer, refusing to meet your eyes. "You have plenty of mine to wear though, don't need his." His argues in a disgruntled grumble. You raise and drop your arms down by your side with a sigh. He was really testing your patience now. "Hm, last time I checked you couldn't give me yours anymore because your ex didn't like it." You protest with a wag of your finger, making him turn his head downwards with something like a shudder running through him at the mention of her name. "Yeah well there's a reason she's my ex innit." He mutters under his breath.

"What the hell is the problem with you today Jack?" You exclaim, his eyes jolting to you in surprise. You don't often snap.

"First you show up at my door in the middle of the night and drag me out of my house and then you won't actually speak to me and now you're picking a fight about John M fucking Ginn?" You snap, the anger and confusion he had stirred up showing in your emphatic hand gestures that only come out when you're telling him a passionate story or going off your head at him. "He's your best mate, why would that even bother you?!"

"I'm sorry, I-"

"I'm not done, Jack!" You yell, holding out a hand. "You haven't even spoken to me all week. I found out you made the England call up on fucking twitter Jack, twitter! And your mum told me about you dumping your girl and I can't even get through to you and now you're buying me gifts and bringing me here? I don't know if I'm coming or going here Jack, you have to give me something. We're meant to be friends." You voice breaks on the last syllable and a lump forms in Jack's throat that he can't just swallow away. Any pain, any hurt and any slight sadness of emotion that appears in you shatters his heart. He thought that was a normal reaction until two weeks ago when he realised it only happens to him when its your upset he witnesses.

"I'm sorry." He says, his voice thick and wavering with the same level of emotion. "I really, really am." He stands right in front of you now, so close you're basically chest to chest, faces merely inches apart.

"And I'm scared." He admits, sending a pang through your already aching heart. "Scared because I'm leaving and I can't take you with me." His words tickle your lips as they leave his, clouds of air puffing above the two of you as his hot breath meets the cold night air. "You've done it before, J. It'll be fine." You soothe, hands gently raising to reach up and brush the hair out of his face. His let's forth a content sigh of relief at the feeling of your touch. "That was before though." He confesses with a slight shrug. He watches that furrow sow itself back into your brows.

"Before what?"

"Dance with me?" He suggests, his arms finding their way around you with ease, much less fumbley than you remember from your high school prom. Your head tilts in that adorable confused way that makes a grin form on his cold lips.

"Why?" You query, eyes slightly narrowed in suspicion. He laughs softly. "Because the music is slow and the sky is gorgeous and because I love you."

Before you get the chance to recognise, process or even understand what he said, he's swaying you around the gravel under the stars.

"Because you what?" You squeak, your eyes desperately searching his as you look for any reason this might be some kind of a joke or one of pranks that makes you want to throttle him. He just smiles at you with those crinkled eyes and the love shining right there in his eyes for you to see. Your stomach flutters like the teenager you were when you fell in love with him. His lips dip down to capture yours in the best kiss that your being has ever felt, his hands ringing your hair, stroking down over your cheeks with those warm hands of his.

"Because I've fell for you, isn't it obvious?"

[ohheyitsokay]

just us

Pairing: Jack Daniels (Agent Whiskey) x (f) reader

Wordcount: 1.9k

Warnings: discussion of not wanting children, brief mention of trauma (the accident), brief mentions of sex, generally sweet and cozy

Summary: Jack and you both grow into what you want (and don’t want?) for the future

Notes: Okay so this WILL NOT be everyone’s cup of tea - that’s fine. There’s enough breeding kink in this fandom for everyone else, I just wanted to explore... not wanting kids, definitively, and one way that journey could look. Obviously, this is an incredibly personal topic, and there’s no way this one snapshot could possibly be perfect, so please just keep that in mind!

>>

Years ago, you met Jack volunteering with low-income students after school. Your friend, who was running the program, roped you in, and you were glad to have other helpers.

He was surprisingly good with the kids. They loved his accent and his hat and the silly expressions he made. Still, in-between his ridiculous stories, he always pushed them to do their best and was persistent in pursuing their success. Unlike some of the other volunteers, he didn’t seem to have any agenda and his selflessness was contagious, and you told him so. The bus had just left, and you finally had the chance to talk to him- you couldn’t help but be honest.

He shrugged his broad shoulders, watching the kids wave through the windows, even down the road.

“I just want them to get their chance to succeed, ya know?”

You did. Gently, you reached up and squeezed his shoulder, and his brown eyes met yours for the first time.

“Thank you,” you said before leaving to go clean up. You hoped he could hear the sincerity in your voice.

The next time you volunteered at the same time, he stayed back to help you clean. He was silent at first, but then he began to talk to you, asking real questions and giving you real answers.

The friendship grew fast, one of the ones where you could feel in your bones how close you’d be. You moved from laughing with the kids as you gave him the tiniest portion of snack, to him driving you home sometimes.

And for the first few years, the two of you really were the best of friends. Lemonade and long drives together became game nights and movies with groups. You’d help him text when he got too flustered, he reminded you that all men were giant boys sometimes. He told you about his past, about the accident and wanting to heal from that, and what he was working on. You shared the skeletons in your closet, you fears and hopes and dreams. You became each other’s constant, as you grew, always cheering the other one on and sharing just the right words at the right time.

Then, after a long, terrible day, he drove over to your house with pure, kind-hearted intentions and ended up kissing you.

-

“The rest, as they say, is history,” you finished.

Jack’s boss was grinning, along with his wife.

“How adorable!” she cooed, squeezing her husband’s hand.

You and Jack had been together for years now, and recently moved to a small town so he could be closer to his mama. This branch of the statesman was a lot more casual, so you were over at their house with some other couples, barbequing in the backyard. In many ways, you loved the little southern community but it was times like these that you felt like you were pulling teeth.

Jack was so high-profile, and bless his heart, he loved to show you off. It was sweet that his boss let him off early sometimes and the local florist knew your date night, but honestly, people in this town were so invested in your relationship it gave you anxiety. Everyone wanted to hear your story, to be in the know, worst of all: ask about it. So it was unpleasant, but not a surprise when the lady continued, asking, “So how many kids are the two of you going to have?”

Her eyes glimmered with expectation, completely unaware at how you were fighting not to grimace at her intrusion.

Jack looked at you, his hand instinctively finding yours. His thumb rubbed your skin softly, as if he was trying to press his support into you. It worked, in it’s own way, and you collected yourself, smiling because you knew she meant well, and because you had practiced.

When you were younger, if and when it came up, you hadn’t been attracted to the idea of children like some others were. You had thought, or maybe trained yourself to say, maybe someday, but not right now. Because for most people, that was enough. You knew logically, that some did change their minds or grow into it. Sometimes you had hoped that would be you.

Now, you didn’t even offer that, just making a joke and guiding the conversation in a different direction. You played your part well, continuing to chat as you ate, being as delightful and adorable as you always were.

Jack knew, of course he did. After that very first night, when he had kissed you, you had been honest with him. motherhood was not your purpose, passion, or dream. He loved you then, and he loved you now, you reminded yourself. He had loved you through the time you’d talked about it again, when he told you that you were his soulmate. Still, before, you had always left it on the table. Maybe someday, in the future.

He watched you closely, watched your eyes when you laughed at the questions, felt you hand in his when you were in the spotlight.

Jack adored you with every fiber of his being. He loved waking up with you in his arms, and falling asleep to the rhythm of your heart. He liked the way your eyes met his and spoke volumes, and how you knew what he was going to say and let him say it anyway. Sometimes he thought he would stop time itself if it would keep you from being hurt.

So now, he shifted closer and closer to you, invading your space until he could share his warmth with you. Your hands left each others so he could wrap his arm around you, and he tried his best to use himself to make a little safe haven for you. He would do anything to create a bubble so you could breathe.

Your eyes found his, and you leaned into his warmth. No words were offered but he knew he had done a good job when he could feel some tension slide off your shoulders.

Still, over the next few days, the conversation haunted you. It felt like a pin, pricking your mind and heart in quiet moments. You ignored it, what else could you do? It was a familiar feeling, and you knew sooner or later, it would go away. After all this time, hadn’t you made your peace with it?

It was almost completely gone, one night, as you lay with Jack, skin to skin under the sheets. He’d be silent for awhile, in what you could only assume was one of his rare, post-sex dazes. He murmured again and again how much he loved you before it faded off and he had settled for holding you close.

“Sweetheart?” he said suddenly, pulling your attention back to him.

“Yeah, Jack?”

“One of our friends from home is pregnant, I forgot to tell you she called yesterday.”

You felt liked the world was spinning. Why was be bring this up right now?

Somewhere far away, you heard yourself make a happy noise and say that was exciting for them.

Your lover’s warm arm pulled you closer, back onto his chest.

“That’s gonna be one helluva cute baby,” he added. You agreed, but had no idea what to do or say.

Was he trying to tell you he was thinking about kids? About babies?! You were full on panicking now.

Had this, plus the questions from before finally pushed him to reconsider? 

“I’ve… darlin’, I’ve been thinking a lot about kids lately,” he whispered into your hair. There was something about his tone you didn’t recognize. You were tense, unable to move away, respond, be normal at all. Of course, he noticed.

Jack half sat up, moving you so he could face you, his arms still holding onto you with purpose.

“Wait- shoot, dang it, I should’ve said that differently,” his eyes were boring into yours. The whole time you’d known him, you hadn’t been able to look away from him when he was baring his heart for you like this. This was Jack. He has never, would never hurt you. You trusted him with your whole life.

Several deep breathes and a quick kiss allowed your heart to calm, and you eyes told him it was okay for him to go on.

“I have been, sweetheart, but not like… that, I – well, I,” he seemed to be struggling, the tiny lines between his eyebrows deepening. You waited, hands finding his skin and mimicking the comforting movements he always did on you. All the while you were reminding yourself that listening to him would always be better than interrupting or assuming.

“I just wanted to tell you, the longer we’re together, how much I like it,” he said, finally, words rushing out of him, “How the more I think about it, how much I sort of want it to just stay like that.”

Your heart was racing now for a whole new reason.

“When I think about other people’s kids, they’re cute but… I don’t need one,” he said, and you noticed the more he talked, the more he relaxed, too. “You could be a fantastic mother, I know you could, if you ever want that,” he added, and you smiled, shaking your head just slightly.

“I guess I’m just selfish, love,” he finally seemed to conclude, having pushed and been fully vulnerable with you. He sank down next to you again, saying, “I want you all to myself. I want to take you on adventures and change the world with you and just have you be all mine, all the time.”

You still couldn’t speak. The world wasn’t spinning anymore but it might as well have been upside down. All your fears - that he was hoping you’d just change your mind, that you were holding him back – were wrong. On his own terms, in his own way, and in his own heart Jack Daniels had flipped to the same page as you.

Never in your life had you expected this, even considered this a possible outcome. It was almost too good to be true.

You had to ask, just one more thing.

“Jack, what about…” you swallowed, clinging to him. “What about… before?” You didn’t need to explain. What about her, and his son? Before the accident? What about the time you’d met, and he was pouring into the futures of children?

Jack was still for one heartbeat, two, and three. Then his hand moved from your waist to touch your cheek, his large palm enveloping it. You hadn’t realized there was a tear until he brushed it away with his thumb. There was tenderness in his eyes as he held you.

“Just us,” he whispered, before kissing you, “that’s all I need.” His eyes were honest, and for the first time in your life, you felt fully seen. 

“Just us,” you said back, as vulnerable as he was.

The two of you held each other then, basking in the moment of pure, raw love. You allowed yourself to sink fully into the mattress, pressing together like you were just falling for each other for the first time. In some ways, you were. Everyone has a different story, and you two had just written another chapter in yours. Jack laughed then, a beautiful, free, almost giddy sound.

Relief had sunk into your bones, the two of you finding something in each other that you’d never had before. The feeling you’d had when you first met - the one that sunk into your bones - promising you two would be close, came into your mind. You considered it, realizing it was more than right, knowing you both before you even knew yourselves.

Jack kissed your hairline, still letting out small burst of quiet laughter. His voice was filled with joy as he asked, “Can we get a dog, though?” and you laughed too.

“Yeah,” you said, and he was kissing you, smile almost too big.

<<

taglist: 

@fangirl-316 @scribbledghost @0celestialbitch0

[shyflameweasel]

The Circus is in Town

This takes from both this and this. Read with caution as there is blood in this.

It’s been few weeks since...the Thing in the alleyway. Maybe a month if you had to guess? You still have no clue what it even was. Curiosity lays at the edges of your mind, poking and prodding to look deeper into the mystery. Shaking your head to dislodge the stray thoughts, you don’t give them a chance to take root. Since that night you haven’t gone out at much as you used to, either by day or by night. Dark places and hideaways were avoided like the plague. (Sometimes you dreamed of floating hands shooting from the darkness to drag you back towards that nightmare.)

You had security system installed. Along with carrying both a knife and taser. A firearm seemed like too much. You’d briefly considered pepper spray but you’re not sure if it would even work without-

Shuddering, that thought’s pushed away (with all the others). You so wanted to believe that it was just your imagination. But with that photo- that damnable photo that you got so close to deleting but couldn’t go through with. Bringing certainty and dread that that night was real. 

So so often you wanted to throw that phone against the wall. Or just factory reset it to stop it from feeling like a brand whenever you held it. Often why you absentmindedly grab the phone for something, you’ll see or feel the crack and everything come rushing back.

Somewhere in your mind, a little voice in your head thinks that you were blowing things out of proportion. Another told it to shut it; isn’t it better to be safe than sorry?

But today...some friends had managed to convince you to get out of your sudden self-isolation. No one knew the reason why, no one would believe you even with proof. (You struggled to believe yourself.) When they said that you’d all be going out of town for a carnival was relaxing. Distance would mean less of a chance of a second encounter and have the benefit of soothing your fraying nerves.

Everything was nice...for awhile.

You don’t fully remember how, but your group had ended up lost. The roads unfamiliar and tensions were rising. Which soon gave way to arguments.

Which lead to a crash. Then darkness.

Fortunately, by some miracle everyone made it out fine with just some scrapes and bruising when you regained consciousness. Unfortunately, the car was in no condition to drive and no one had any idea where you were. The GPS seemed unable to lock onto the location.

Something felt...off. Like it was only the slightest thing off but you didn’t know what so it gnawed at-

Someone spotted a large circus tent in the distance. A tent meant people, people meant help. The group’s spirit rose, all except yours. That feeling was still rolling in your gut. They started towards it, joking around that at least they have some entertainment while waiting for a tow. You hesitated in following, that not-quite-right feeling thick in the back of your throat. It dawned on you why you felt this way.

It was the same feeling as the alley.

You didn’t want to go but what other choice was there? A wrecked car, no other soul for seemingly miles. As much as you hated it, there really wasn’t a choice in the matter.

Checking once twice thrice for your knife taser phone you followed. As you caught up with the rest, you placed your phone where the camera could see everything and hit record.

(Your information was already saved into the phone. On the chance that it was found, someone would know what happened to you.)

That feeling grew as you got closer to the ‘circus’, if you could even call it that. From far away it seemed decent enough but once you got closer details were starting to register. For one, there was only a tent. Nothing of the bright lights or rides that would be at a carnival, even the more shoddy ones had something to bring in a crowd.

Another red flag: dead silence. Not a single person or animal in sight. Not even the sound of insects broke the blanket of noiselessness. You held some slight hope that it was due to being in the middle of a performance in the tent. But if that was the case, wouldn’t there still be cheering form the crowd? Or music playing?

The others seemed to catch on to just how wrong everything felt. Like at the drop of a pin this stalemate would shatter into hell. Hands in pockets, grasping onto your only means of defense. False security blankets against the unknown. Apprehension settled alongside that feeling. Waiting.

Once close enough to the tent you could see that it was falling apart. The material was holey, like someone gave up half-way through with trying to repair it. In its sorry state it was so dirty and faded that it was hard to make out any of the original colors. Worryingly enough there were large dark spots on the fabric. Distance was making it hard to tell what they were but their color means that it wasn’t part of the original pattern.

Someone tried to make a joke about it being too early for Halloween. No one laughed. Another suggested that everyone walked back to the car and call for help instead (where it was safer.) It was shot down by a third saying that the GPS wasn’t working and that there was no reception. That paused the argument.

No reception? As if everyone had the same idea, phones were brought out. How...how didn’t you notice that? Were you so out of it back at the car that you never checked? (One of the voices piped in that it worked before.)

Hesitantly, the option of staying in the car waiting for someone to pass. No one said anything, they didn’t have to. After the crash the car had been flipped upside down away from the road. In addition it was already late afternoon. Whatever the hell was going on here, no one wanted to be in the area after dark.

So with all other options tried and debunked, the only one remaining was going towards the tent and praying for a miracle. What felt like forever but was only a few minutes you get within a few yards of the entrance. The curtain was open. (It wasn’t before.)

(Those splotches you tried to ignore before? Its blood. A lot of blood. One the tent and the ground. Out of the corner of your eye you could see a handprint. Instead of four fingers, there were three. Leading towards the entrance, six thin gorges, almost as if- one of the voices hissed at the other to shut up.)

Don’t think about it. It’ll only make is worse. Glancing at the others told you that while they hadn’t come to the same conclusion they still didn’t trust this place in the slightest. You couldn’t see into the darkness of the tent.

“WELCOME! COME IN COME IN THE SHOW’S ABOUT TO START!” rang from the flap. You flinched as it broke through the dead silence. No one moved. Whatever microphone they were using glitched and echoed their voice. It sounded much worse the second time when it sounded far less happy and far more angry.

‘CLOWN SAID COME IN.” Someone started crying and honestly you would be lying if you didn’t feel like that too. Something told you that you wouldn’t be getting another warning. Looking over, the others seemed to realize it too.

There was no escaping whoever was in the tent. One of the others puffed up their chest in false bravado and took the first step then the second and the third into the darkness. And one by one, everyone followed.

It smelled...stale.

Like despite the amount of holes in the place the air remained stagnant. If you weren’t so worried about the voice, you’d worried about getting sick. But underneath that stagnation there was this horrible smell. You almost retched as your foot collided with something squishy that released more of that foulness. If you make it out alive you’re going straight to a doctor. (You did your best not to think about what you stepped in.)

“STOP” the voice range out. Everyone froze. “CLOWN WELCOMES NEWEST PERFORMERS FOR COMING. IT’LL BE A BLAST FOR GRUNTS OF ALL SHAPES AND SIZES.” Performers? Grunts? What does that-

A light suddenly came on. Someone screamed about eyes. But to you the world went to static. Because standing right there. Was the Thing from the alley. Or at least, it was similar. (Something in you screeched to run and unlike last time, you couldn’t.)

Standing on a raised platform, standing under the beam of spotlight was a Thing. Only this one was wearing a metal mask. (Was the red shooting up from Its head hair or was it a wig? Your shuddering mind deliriously thought.) Stumbling towards the back of the group you belatedly realize what that eyes comment was about. Dozens if not hundreds stared back at you from the darkness.

The mask’s eyes seemed to move into crescent smiles. You felt your mind trying to break itself but you just barely held yourself together. Dots flash before your eyes as breathing becomes difficult.

In a blink (was it a blink or is your mind having trouble). It’s near one of your friends. “FREAKY.” Grabbing their arm with Its hands It looks closer. When they try to jerk away It just grips tighter and they yelp in pain. The others try to push It off them but It just bats them away as easily as swatting a misbehaving pet. “HAD SOME FREAKSHOWS BUT NEVER ONE LIKE THIS.”

(There was no microphone. This violently shaking monster spoke with distortion and echo in its voice.) 

Someone asks what It is. It looks at (towards?) them still holding the arm of your now shaking friend. “CLOWN IS TRICKY!” Finally letting go of your friend (they’re brought to the center of the group, arm starting to bruise.) It-Tricky-clown flourishes its hands (floating floating floating) “WELCOME TO THE CIRCUS~” in a sing song voice.

Before anyone could say anything, could do anything. It had a gun in Its hands. (There were no pockets just dark grey gunmetal green aND WHERE DID IT COME FROM) Pointed the gun towards the group. Fired. Half threw themselves to the ground. Myself and the rest were frozen in shock. There was no bullet...just a little sign with a bang pattern.

It roared with laughter. Like it had just seen the funniest joke in the world. That next moment the room exploded into deafening laughter. The shear volume brought you back to your senses enough to clutch at your ears. Trying to block it all out.

“BRING IN THE HELLCLOWNS!” It side steps a car that half your size, you knew without a fact that it wasn’t before. Skidding around your group before coming to a stop next to the Thing.

The door ope-DEARR GOD THOSE AREN’T CLOWNS!

A scream rips itself from your throat at the sigh. From the car emerges a dozen small flaming...demon Things. They seemed to honk when they moved. One grabs your wrist and does it burn. All but one of your friends are restrained. The remaining fiery devils seem to set something up.

The Thing in charge grabs the unrestrained, dragging towards a wheel the smaller ones made. It’s hard to focus with the pain burning through your wrist. The world blurs.

Thunk thunk thunk squelch

An ear piercing scream breaks through the haze.

Your eyes refocus on the wheel. It was slowly turning. Attached to it was your friend. And to your friend was a knife to their shoulder. The clown was holding knives. (Like the wheel was a dartboard and your friend was the bullseye.)

There must have been some kind of mechanism as whenever the wheel stopped, it would suddenly spin at breakneck speed. It felt like an eternity. Every time the clown hit them, the crowd would cheer.

Luck must have been on your friend’s side. 3 more cycle and a knife caught them through the eye. They were dead. (Someone was crying out of eyesight.)

The next to go went slower. That-that monster had Its minions crush your friend into a small box in some sick parody of a contortionist. Bones cracked and the screaming turned wet. It seemed confused with arms and legs. At least until It torn them off. They bleed out in a broken mess. (More crying, the sounds of retching follows.)

The third was quick but painful. A pie. It threw a pie at their face. Their face melted off and their neck burst open. (The minions pulled the bodies into the darkness. You have an idea of what you stepped in earlier.)

Throughout this your mind is brought back from its haze of pain with each wail of agony. Slowly unraveling you grasp the edges of your mind with scrambling finger tips.

Fourth was quickest. Forced and shot out of a cannon. The minions had set up a net that glints of metal and fire in the stage light. It goes off, force launching them through the net. Confetti and viscera rain from the sky.

(Someone screams why, why are you doing this! It’s reply bleeds through the growing fog. “BORED. A LITTLE VACATION FROM MY JOB. JUST GET TO UNWIND AWAY FROM NEVDA AND HAVE SOME FUN!” What...what was going on in Nevada?)

Fifth is shot with a balloon gun before being mauled to death by balloon animals.

Your mind is slipping through your hands like water. The crowd cheers louder ever louder. (They’re all flaming clowns)

Sixth...you don’t know what happened. It was one of those strong man gigs. Swing a hammer, hit a bell. Only...they didn’t. They swung and hit the monster square in the face. Mask landing with a thud in the deathly silent tent.

You took your chance.

Wrenching your arm out of the slackened hold (a wave of agony and the smell of burnt flesh violently turns your stomach) you shoulder check the other one to grab your last remaining companion. (If the inhuman scream followed by meaty whacks is to go by)

And run.

You keep running before your fraying mind catches up to you. Nothing looks the same as when you went in. (There. Was. No. Sky. Only red, not like a sunset bu- don’t think don’t think don’tthinkdon-)

Seventh is unknown. As you run in the direction that you’re so sure that the car has to be in, you’re jerk back. You were repeating not again over and over (you never know you were mumbling). A fight breaks out, you’re on the ground with their hands around your throat. Screaming that it’s all your fault. Your mind flashes to balloons bursting like guns, flying pies and bloody confetti.

(The voices argue, one crying and pleading for this to stop. The other hissing and snarls at the attack. The edges of the world go dark.)

You hear the horns growing louder.

As quick as you can, you pull the knife from your pocket.

And stab the seventh.

Seventh falls over clutching their gut wound. You run.

You get farther this time before something tackles you to the ground. It’s back and It is enraged.

Now that the mask is off you can see Its head. Similar to the other one in most ways. The head a sickly green. An exposed brain. Sweet smelling rot that’s too much. Half Its face is ripped, exposing teeth and muscles. (It does have hair)

It was dead. But it was still moving.

You didn’t hesitate, you grabbed your taser and slammed it down onto the gray matter as hard you could. (The smell, the sound it makes will haunt you. But you can just add it to the list.)

It stopped moving and you weren’t going to miss this chance. Wooziness took control as you stood up. Only a few steps were taken before consciousness left.

You woke up.

Apparently a car had come down the road and found the wreck. Took you to the closes hospital. Of a group of 8...only 1 was found.

Honestly everything felt like a dream with the painkillers coursing through your veins. Questions were asked that couldn’t be answered. All you could tell them was that the rest were at the circus with a clown named Tricky.

And when you were finally alone...you laughed. Laughed until you cried. Laughed until you hurled. Laughed until you could barely breathe. Until you sobbed. Sobbed for your friends. Sobbed for what you all went through. Sobbed as you had your answer after a month.

As you lay there in laughter filled waves of agony, with your bandaged arm (a handprint) and the hours of video of your friends being tortured and killed you found your answer.

Whatever they were, they brought suffering and madness. Some fractured part of your mind knew that this wouldn’t be your last time seeing them.

[richincolor]

New Releases for the Week of May 3, 2021

It's great to see so many new books hitting the shelves this week. I know I've been waiting for several of these and am happy to be able to finally read them. 

The Ones We’re Meant to Find by Joan He Roaring Brook

Cee has been trapped on an abandoned island for three years without any recollection of how she arrived, or memories from her life prior. All she knows is that somewhere out there, beyond the horizon, she has a sister named Kay. Determined to find her, Cee devotes her days to building a boat from junk parts scavenged inland, doing everything in her power to survive until the day she gets off the island and reunites with her sister.

In a world apart, 16-year-old STEM prodigy Kasey Mizuhara is also living a life of isolation. The eco-city she calls home is one of eight levitating around the world, built for people who protected the planet―and now need protecting from it. With natural disasters on the rise due to climate change, eco-cities provide clean air, water, and shelter. Their residents, in exchange, must spend at least a third of their time in stasis pods, conducting business virtually whenever possible to reduce their environmental footprint. While Kasey, an introvert and loner, doesn’t mind the lifestyle, her sister Celia hated it. Popular and lovable, Celia much preferred the outside world. But no one could have predicted that Celia would take a boat out to sea, never to return.

Now it’s been three months since Celia’s disappearance, and Kasey has given up hope. Logic says that her sister must be dead. But as the public decries her stance, she starts to second guess herself and decides to retrace Celia’s last steps. Where they’ll lead her, she does not know. Her sister was full of secrets. But Kasey has a secret of her own. — Cover image and summary via Goodreads

Meet Cute Diary by Emery Lee Quill Tree Books

Noah Ramirez thinks he’s an expert on romance. He has to be for his popular blog, the Meet Cute Diary, a collection of trans happily ever afters. There’s just one problem—all the stories are fake. What started as the fantasies of a trans boy afraid to step out of the closet has grown into a beacon of hope for trans readers across the globe.

When a troll exposes the blog as fiction, Noah’s world unravels. The only way to save the Diary is to convince everyone that the stories are true, but he doesn’t have any proof. Then Drew walks into Noah’s life, and the pieces fall into place: Drew is willing to fake-date Noah to save the Diary. But when Noah’s feelings grow beyond their staged romance, he realizes that dating in real life isn’t quite the same as finding love on the page.

In this charming novel by Emery Lee, Noah will have to choose between following his own rules for love or discovering that the most romantic endings are the ones that go off script. — Cover image and summary via Goodreads

They Better Call Me Sugar: My Journey from the Hood to the Hardwood by Sugar Rodgers Black Sheep

Growing up in dire poverty in Suffolk, Virginia, Sugar (born Ta’Shauna) Rodgers never imagined that she would become an all-star player in the WNBA (Women’s National Basketball Association). Both of her siblings were in and out of prison throughout much of her childhood and shootings in her neighborhood were commonplace. For Sugar this was just a fact of life.

While academics wasn’t a high priority for Sugar and many of her friends, athletics always played a prominent role. She mastered her three-point shot on a net her brother put up just outside their home, eventually becoming so good that she could hustle local drug dealers out of money in one-on-one contests.

With the love and support of her family and friends, Sugar’s performance on her high school basketball team led to her recruitment by the Georgetown Hoyas, and her eventual draft into the WNBA in 2013 by the Minnesota Lynx (who won the WNBA Finals in Sugar’s first year). The first of her family to attend college, Sugar speaks of her struggles both academically and as an athlete with raw honesty.

Sugar’s road to a successful career as a professional basketball player is fraught with sadness and death–including her mother’s death when she’s fourteen, which leaves Sugar essentially homeless. Throughout it all, Sugar clings to basketball as a way to keep herself focused and sane.

And now Sugar shares her story as a message of hope and inspiration for young girls and boys everywhere, but especially those growing up in economically challenging conditions. Never sugarcoating her life experiences, she delivers a powerful message of discipline, perseverance, and always believing in oneself. — Cover image and summary via Goodreads

Excuse Me While I Ugly Cry by Joya Goffney HarperTeen

Quinn keeps lists of everything—from the days she’s ugly cried, to “Things That I Would Never Admit Out Loud,” to all the boys she’d like to kiss. Her lists keep her sane. By writing her fears on paper, she never has to face them in real life. That is, until her journal goes missing…

An anonymous account posts one of her lists on Instagram for the whole school to see and blackmails her into facing seven of her greatest fears, or else her entire journal will go public. Quinn doesn’t know who to trust. Desperate, she teams up with Carter Bennett—the last known person to have her journal—in a race against time to track down the blackmailer.

Together, they journey through everything Quinn’s been too afraid to face, and along the way, Quinn finds the courage to be honest, to live in the moment, and to fall in love. — Cover image and summary via Goodreads

Hurricane Summer by Asha Bromfield Wednesday Books

Tilla has spent her entire life trying to make her father love her. But every six months, he leaves their family and returns to his true home: the island of Jamaica.

When Tilla’s mother tells her she’ll be spending the summer on the island, Tilla dreads the idea of seeing him again, but longs to discover what life in Jamaica has always held for him.

In an unexpected turn of events, Tilla is forced to face the storm that unravels in her own life as she learns about the dark secrets that lie beyond the veil of paradise—all in the midst of an impending hurricane.

Hurricane Summer is a powerful coming of age story that deals with colorism, classism, young love, the father-daughter dynamic—and what it means to discover your own voice in the center of complete destruction. — Cover image and summary via Goodreads

Indivisible by Daniel Aleman Little, Brown Books for Young Readers

There is a word Mateo Garcia and his younger sister Sophie have been taught to fear for as long as they can remember: deportation. Over the past few years, however, the fear that their undocumented immigrant parents could be sent back to Mexico has started to fade to the back of their minds. And why wouldn’t it, when their Ma and Pa have been in the United States for so long, they have American-born children, and they’re hard workers and good neighbors?

When two ICE agents come asking for Pa, the Garcia family realizes that the lives they’ve built are about to come crumbling down. And when Mateo returns from school one day to find that his parents have been taken, he’ll have to come to terms with the fact that his family’s worst nightmare has become a reality.

With his Ma and Pa being held in separate detention centers, Mateo must learn how to look after his sister and himself. The choices Mateo makes, and the people he turns to for help, might reunite his family… or tear them apart for good. With his parents’ fate and his own future hanging in the balance, Mateo must figure out who he is and what he is capable of, even as he’s forced to question what it means to be an American teenager in a country that rejects his own mom and dad. — Cover art and summary via Goodreads

Counting Down with You by Tashie Bhuiyan Inkyard Press

Karina Ahmed has a plan. Keep her head down, get through high school without a fuss, and follow her parents’ rules—even if it means sacrificing her dreams. When her parents go abroad to Bangladesh for four weeks, Karina expects some peace and quiet. Instead, one simple lie unravels everything.

Karina is my girlfriend.

Tutoring the school’s resident bad boy was already crossing a line. Pretending to date him? Out of the question. But Ace Clyde does everything right—he brings her coffee in the mornings, impresses her friends without trying, and even promises to buy her a dozen books (a week) if she goes along with his fake-dating facade. Though Karina agrees, she can’t help but start counting down the days until her parents come back.

T-minus twenty-eight days until everything returns to normal—but what if Karina no longer wants it to? — Cover image and summary via Goodreads

All Kinds of Other by James Sie Quill Tree Books

In this tender, nuanced coming-of-age love story, two boys—one who is cis and one who is trans—have been guarding their hearts to protect themselves, until their feelings for each other give them a reason to stand up to their fears.

Two boys are starting at a new school.

Jules is just figuring out what it means to be gay and hasn’t totally decided whether he wants to be out at his new school. His parents and friends have all kinds of opinions, but for his part, Jules just wants to make the basketball team and keep his head down.

Jack is trying to start over after a best friend break-up. He followed his actor father clear across the country to LA, but he’s also totally ready to leave his past behind. Maybe this new school where no one knows him is exactly what he needs.

When the two boys meet, the sparks are undeniable. But then a video surfaces linking Jack to a pair of popular transgender vloggers, and the revelations about Jack’s past thrust both Jack and Jules into the spotlight they’ve been trying to avoid. Suddenly both boys have a choice to make—between lying low where it’s easier or following their hearts. — Cover image and summary via Goodreads

Luck of the Titanic by Stacey Lee G.P. Putnam's Sons Books for Young Readers

Southampton, 1912: Seventeen-year-old British-Chinese Valora Luck has quit her job and smuggled herself aboard the Titanic with two goals in mind: to reunite with her twin brother Jamie--her only family now that both their parents are dead--and to convince a part-owner of the Ringling Brothers Circus to take the twins on as acrobats. Quick-thinking Val talks her way into opulent firstclass accommodations and finds Jamie with a group of fellow Chinese laborers in third class. But in the rigidly stratified world of the luxury liner, Val's ruse can only last so long, and after two long years apart, it's unclear if Jamie even wants the life Val proposes. Then, one moonless night in the North Atlantic, the unthinkable happens--the supposedly unsinkable ship is dealt a fatal blow--and Val and her companions suddenly find themselves in a race to survive.

Stacey Lee, master of historical fiction, brings a fresh perspective to an infamous tragedy, loosely inspired by the recently uncovered account of six Titanic survivors of Chinese descent.

[mrvdocks]

Nightcall P.1

Request/Summary: Kurt is obsessive over a model and kidnaps her, taking her along for the ride of the night. 

After

The flurry of phones ringing off the hook and background noise felt foreign to you, it was just a buzzing in your ear. You pulled the safety blanket around you closer, grabbing it in fistfuls. You don’t know how long you’ve been here, but it feels like hours. The fluorescent in the room probably only made you look even worse for wear than you were hours before, but it didn’t matter now. In a span of 24 hours, your life had changed. 

The guarded door opened and an officer pulled up a chair in front of you, dropping photos of the gruesome scene you’d seen firsthand. She slides the photos closer, her thumb obscuring the killer’s face. You didn’t need to see it a second time.

“You were found in the residence of Mr. Kunkle, with one Jessie Adams and a John Doe, who seems to have been the victim of Mr. Kunkle’s spree amongst others.”

Even his name brings chills down your spine. 

“I already told the police everything.” You say groggily, your throat still sore from the whole ordeal.

“Yes, but there seems to be some doubt on your partnership with Mr. Kunkle. Footage, eyewitness accounts,” she’s studying you no doubt. Any sort of tick or movement you made without thought that could somehow lead her to think you were lying about anything you had explained earlier. 

“What was your relationship with Mr. Kunkle?” She pries, bringing multiple photos of Kurt to be splayed out in front of you. Some good, some bad, some….disturbing. 

“I - none. He just knew me through the socials.” 

“And you were also the target of his mania.” There’s something unsettling in how much she’s liking interrogating you. You ignore it. 

“You think it’s my fault he did this.” 

It was not your fault. None of this was. Kurt was just too power hungry. Maybe you were too trusting. You didn’t want to see Kurt for what he really was until it was too late. 

“I’m not saying it’s your fault, but your compliance does seem suspicious.”

“I-I didn’t know him very well. He was just my Spree driver for a day. But he was always nice to me.”

“He was also your kidnapper.”

“Like I said, he was a nice guy.” Your voice breaks. 

They’re all nice guys until they aren’t. 

“And you didn’t think to call the authorities when you were alone? Were you helping him lure these people?”

You can feel her eyes burning into you. 

“I’m not stupid,” you cry. “I know how this sounds. But I’m telling you, he gave me a ride and then he - all of this. Oh God.” 

You bring your shaky hands to run through your worn and tired face, specks of dried blood still prominent even through many washes with soap. It’s another way Kurt managed to stay with you. 

“Let’s start at the beginning,” she sits back with her arms folded. “And spare no detail.”

Before

He scrolls through your feed for the millionth time today.

Photos of you on your daily walks, exploring hidden LA gems, posting places you were shooting at, people you were hanging out with, all at the touch of a button for him. The bell notification alerts him, telling him that you’ve posted. He taps the screen in the blink of an eye, meeting your face as you giggle about falling while skating. 

You pout as you show the damage, remarking that it was lucky you weren’t shooting that day otherwise you would’ve had to cover up on such a hot day. 

In a vain industry, you try to keep yourself humble and that’s what he loves about you. Though he’s never met you, he thinks you could live up to the image he’s created of you. One that matches your optimistic and humorous one. 

He re watches your story, pausing at random moments where he screenshots and saves to his photos. His home screen is a shot of you in black and white, seemingly topless from chest down and looking back with an enticing smile. He loves the way your hair frames your face, the way pieces of it were meticulously picked out to give it a sort of messy look.

You could make anything look good, he thinks.

Bobby gives him a hard time about you, bragging about how he knows you and that although you’re more well known than he is, you are the one who should be grateful for his exposure.

Kurt thinks it’s bullshit but he wouldn’t be surprised if it were true, maybe you’d come around to meet him one day.

The vibration of a text brings him out of his daze, seeing Bobby’s name in big bold letters. 

He can’t believe his eyes when he opens the text. It’s an off guard video of you behind Bobby, giggling at something on your phone before noticing that he’s recording and flashing a cheeky smile and a peace sign.

“Found your girlfriend.” Bobby mocks before erupting into hysterical laughter.

Kurt replays it until his phone dies, Bobby’s words echoing in his head.

An idea pops into his head, it would be difficult if he didn’t know your exact routine but thanks to your fan accounts and the power of gossip blogs, it’s a definite success. 

He calls Bobby immediately, hearing him and his entourage in the background as they talked about a video idea. 

“What do you want, Kurt? I’m busy right now.” His annoyance is clear but Kurt is way too focused on you to notice.

“I need a favor.”

It’s amazing what the internet contains about a person. It’s also quite terrifying. Through just a few minutes of research, he’s found out your schedule along with where you went to school, where you live and your closest friends. 

In a photo Bobby had taken, the location of the next shoot you had taking place somewhere was barely visible.

He connects the dots, thinking about how your involvement could help him get  #TheLesson out and make him a household name. 

And it’s exactly what he does the day of. He parks near your neighborhood, foot bouncing and anxiously looking at his phone. He declines the others in hopes of finding you according to the schedule. You almost never use your real name on anything when going out but he recognizes your fake name and location, he puts the car into drive and talks himself up. 

He parks across the street, giving him a better view of you.  

His heart skitters when he sees you look in his direction, your brows quirk up as you give him an easy smile and cross carefully. 

You stop and bend to meet him at the passenger window, “Kurt, right?”

His name coming out of your mouth is something he’s dreamed of since he first saw you. He almost pinches himself to know if this is real. 

He knows he’s grinning like an idiot because you laugh at his speechlessness. 

“Sorry,” he motions to the backseat, “Hop in!” 

“I take it you know who I am.” 

You’re not oblivious to your recognition, but with some guys it was just always a hit or miss. They either wanted you to take your top off or asked for some weird things.

“Are you kidding? I’m like your biggest fan.” He beams, going back on the road. 

You’re not good at accepting compliments, so all you can manage is a shy smile and a, “Thanks!”

You notice his set up of cameras and ask him about it, to which he says they’re just for protection. Throughout the ride you learn more about him, particularly that he was going something the next day called The Lesson. He had a very particular view about this digital world you both lived in, talking about these odd jobs he’d been doing along with trying to build up his following. In between talking about himself, he mentions Bobby and the events of last night from the video. 

“Oh right, Bobby.” You roll your eyes at the mention of his name. 

Bobby was a pain in your ass sometimes, acting all high and mighty all the time and just like he was the overall shit. 

“Yeah he’s alright. He could just tone it down a little.”

“Oh yeah - definitely, he was the same when he was a kid. Just pure chaotic energy.”

“That’s one way to put it.”

In between other conversations, Kurt brought back the spotlight to you, asking you about different people you hung out with. It was pleasant conversation, you felt like you were talking to an old friend and letting off some steam. The red flags hadn’t gone off just yet. 

To let loose and make you live a little, Kurt races past a red light and nearly misses being in a collision. 

It startles you but he assures you there’s no danger. 

“You trust me right?” He asks, glancing back to you.

“I mean, yeah.” 

The confirmation is validation to him. It’s all he needed to begin.

He picks up another passenger, an older man who definitely did not hide the way he was staring at your body. You’re thankful for sitting a little father from him but when Kurt initiates conversation with him, everything goes downhill.

“I know you from somewhere.” The man points out, his obvious staring makes you cringe as you stay silent.

“You’re that model, I’ve seen your stuff around Westwood. Bangin’ body.”

You can feel the anger in your chest rise as Kurt finally notices.

“What’s going on?” He glances to the back, meeting your shifting eyes.

The man ignores him. “Sweetheart when someone compliments you, the nice thing to do is smile.”

That did it.

“Excuse me? I don’t owe you shit!” You grit.

“Whoa! Whoa! Sir you can’t be saying that anymore.” Kurt changes lanes, ready to stop if the situation gets worse.

“She should be proud she doesn’t look like her people. All of ‘em just fat and lazy.”

“Excuse me?! My people?” You’re sure you don’t look the least bit intimidating but it doesn’t matter. You were willing to kick this man’s ass if need be.

Kurt pulls off the the side of the road, “Alright, get out.” 

“What? No, I paid for this ride fair and square. I’m not leaving for shit. I can say what I want.” He says adamantly.

“Sir if you make those comments again I’m going to have to cancel the Spree.”

Something clicks in Kurt’s head as he remembers the water bottles. 

He motions for you to take the passenger seat which you do without much hesitation. 

Kurt waits a minute before merging again, glancing at the man every so often and taking more desolate streets. You don’t notice the absence of cars and you definitely don’t notice when the man takes a bottle and practically chugs it. 

Kurt smirks as he slows down. “Hey maybe you should let them know you’re not going to make it.”

Confused, you glance at Kurt and then at the man who’s now starting to grab at his throat and coughing violently.  

Your eyes widen as you attempt to get Kurt to stop the car but he doesn’t move, instead he keeps his eyes trained on the road.

“Kurt, stop the car.”

The man’s coughs get worse by the second and he turns a very bright red. 

“Kurt! Stop the car!” 

You’re frozen, helpless to watch the man as he tries to grab at Kurt from behind but coughs up blood and passes out in the backseat. You slink back in your seat, utterly terrified of what just happened. 

Adrenaline and fear course through you. You side eye Kurt who is not as affected by this as you are as he merely readjusts his camera. 

You begin to hyperventilate and try the passenger door. When it doesn’t budge you shut your eyes and cry.

“I won’t say anything. I won’t I promise. I promise, Kurt. Please.”

Kurt sighs as he retrieves a piece of cloth from his pocket. Your eyes widen as he comes close and pins you in your seat and smothers you with the cloth. You struggle under him, pushing against his chest to no avail. 

The smell of the chloroform inundates your senses and in a matter of seconds you feel your eyes roll back and everything go black. 

Once you’re knocked out, Kurt takes both your phone and the other passengers to knock suspicion off of him. He has plans for the racist prick in the back, but for you, he has much bigger plans.

[daydreamsofh]

Terrible Love- Part Two

A/N: Ahhhhh hello! Welcome to Terrible Love, part two! I have had so much fun writing this story, and I am so so proud of it, and so happy to share it with you! 

A massive thank you to my girl @harryinsweatersandbandanas for just being herself and always encouraging me, and to my sweet friend @dallas-suit-harry for being the best beta reader ever! I’m so lucky to know you, Em! <3 

Here we go, again! Feedback and reblogs are always welcome, my ask box is always always open! 

Summary: Love, or should I say falling for your best friend has a way of being terrible, and wonderful all at the same time. 

Inspired by the song: Terrible Love- Birdy

Word Count: 6k, almost 7k

Part One: Terrible Love

**

You weren’t proud of what you did. Leading guys on wasn’t one of your hobbies, and you genuinely felt bad for inviting Connor to go to the party with you, knowing there were no hopes of an actual chance of a relationship between the two of you at the end of the night. It wasn’t like you were a villain in a romantic comedy, wheelding your imaginary sword to hurt people on purpose. If anything, you did feel like you were in the middle of a romantic comedy, torn between wanting Harry so badly it made you sick, and all the while being so weary of him and the mountain of feelings you held for him. Although, It was clearly looking like you didn’t really have a choice in being with him, his hands and mind busy with someone else. But still that didn’t stop the aching feeling you had in your chest, and the shaking feeling you had in your hands. 

They say that absence makes the heart grow fonder, however you were convinced that absence from the guy you were embarrassingly in love with, made the heart grow bitter and on the verge of an emotional breakdown at any given second. Harry was normally always on your mind, but ever since he got home it was tenfold. You couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat, you felt like you would never catch your breath. You would wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat thinking about who gave him those marks on his neck, who got to feel his lips against theirs, to feel the stubble of his jaw lightly grazing their skin. The feeling of his hands, no doubt a little bit rough in texture from the nights on end of him strumming his guitar on stage, gripping on to their hips in the most possessive, yet gentle way. The knowledge that the smile on his face and the extra swing in his step was from the new flame budding between the two of them. 

You were more uneasy now that he was home again, there was no way to ignore your feelings when he was literally right in front of you. You found yourself unable to sleep, yet again, and without having the comforts to lull you to sleep like when he was gone. There was no duvet to bury under that smelled of him, no bedside book’s that have the lines he fell in love with littering the pages to make your eyes heavy, and no air to breathe that he once had. You were awake at all hours of the night wondering who was on his mind and in his heart, the way he was in yours. 

Meanwhile, Harry was absolutely positive he was losing it. He was unable to focus on anything for longer than five minutes before his mind filtered back to you. More specifically, your smell on his sheets and throughout the air of his home, he wondered where you had sat and where you had laid your head to rest, where had you eaten your breakfast and where had you taken his calls? He was romanticizing every little detail about you that was now etched into his home. Even the strands of hair that were stuck to his pillow, and the smell of your perfume practically stamped into every one of his jumpers, every little thing. He was even dreaming about you, and he doesn’t need an expert to tell him that that is a clear sign that that was a sign. He loved you, he was sure of it.  But among other things, he was also painfully sure that it seemed you had met someone else. When you were so nonchalant about going on a date and then coming back to his house afterwards like it was no big deal, he had never been so cross with you, but mainly with himself. 

How is it that he never said anything? How is it that he’s a man who writes love songs for a living and always urges people to tell people how they feel, no matter how embarrassing and terrifying that may be? How is he someone who says “Give Love, Choose Love” so naturally, so  afraid to just bloody tell you how he feels?! How is he someone who fearlessly spews romantic advice to those who ask for it, and he can’t tell you how he feels?  How is he a man who wears his heart on his sleeve, (literally and figuratively) and he can’t tell you how he really feels about you? He’s known he’s loved you for forever, but now he’s more than sure that he’s in love with you, and that notion, the one that he’s in love with his best friend is the most mind blowing/overwhelming revelation that he thinks he’s ever had. Hang performing in front of thousands of people, this is the biggest rush he’s ever felt. What is he supposed to do now?! You have a new guy in your life and he’s not the type of guy to run in the middle of that and cause a scene, and plus, who knows if you even feel the same way? He’s gone for months at a time, and while his personal life is more private now than ever before, being in his life in that way does require being a bit in the spotlight, and he’s not going to ask you to sign up for that. 

But Christ, what if you are? What if you did want to sign up for that? Being his girlfriend, being in his life in a way you never have been before? BUT, you have a bloody boyf-friend-thing. Christ. How the hell did you even have time to meet someone? He had spoken to you nearly every day he had been gone, and he never even got the slightest inkling that there was anyone remotely new in your life. Let alone a dodgy sounding guy like him?! Christ how long had he really been gone? You had been so cheerful with him on the phone, but you always are. Telling him everything was good and that he doesn’t even need to come back because you had made yourself right at home. He had laughed at that one, the kind of breathy laugh that turns into the most dreamy sigh because the thought of you calling his house, home, is something straight out of one of his dreams. And yours too, but that's besides the point. 

He felt so stuck in the weeds and he just wanted to grab your shoulders and shake you and kiss you until you were breathless. But on the other hand, you had only just started dating this new guy, so maybe he could still say something. He had to, or he at least had to try. 

**

Every time Harry finished a tour, or the leg of a tour, Jeff was insistent on throwing him a welcome home party. As if he hadn’t just been showered with love from stadiums of people for months on end. You had attended every single one, because if there’s anyone who is best in the category of showering Harry with love, you take the cake. You stood alongside Anne and Gemma for a majority of the last one, in between gazing at him with so much love in your eyes you couldn’t believe you weren't actively crying the entire time. When he cozied up beside you after all of the toasts in his honor, you could feel the heat radiating from him, and then he slipped his hand to rest over your leg under the table. You couldn’t feel your hands when he reached over to give yours a squeeze, and when Gemma and Anne weren’t looking you leaned over and planted a kiss on his shoulder before pausing to rest your head there and gaze up at him. He gave you a lopsided smile, (one of your favorite ones of his) and he dipped down to kiss your forehead. 

You had chalked up his touchy behavior to him being slightly buzzed, but for the next week every time you looked down at your hands you stopped breathing for a few seconds. 

You were dreading this one though, positively absolutely dreading it. You were mad at Harry, and sad and jealous of whoever he was now mysteriously dating while on the road, but you couldn't not go. You couldn’t not go and tell him how proud of him you were, and  it didn’t matter how frustrated you were at the situation, or really at the universe for misaligning the timing of you two, again. You hated to throw the i’m in love with my best friend and he has no idea and has some secret new girlfriend and you just wanted to cry the entire time card, but it was very tempting. You knew that if you didn’t go, that would raise more suspicion and would require further explanation, so you were forcing yourself to go. 

There was only a two day stretch from the time Harry got home to the night of the party. You had been nauseous most of the day, incredibly anxious about the fact that you were about to be in the same space as him for an unimaginable amount of time, with a guy who you barely knew and definitely shouldn't have invited to come with you. While you were positive that Harry didn’t feel the same way, you were also positive that you didn’t want to be with anyone else, either. Who knows, maybe you would wind up being an 80 year old woman, single and alone with an australian shepherd mysteriously named Harry. Anything was possible at this point. 

You had been more than useless at work all week, and the closer the time came for the party, the more you were thinking of reasons to get you out of going. You could say you caught a cold from the office? Or that you ate some bad chinese food and had a stomach ache? Or… you could just run. Run and never look back, hide out somewhere in Italy and start making hand spun soaps out of your living room? Yeah, you liked that option best. 

When you had originally texted Connor and asked him if he wanted to tag along, you weren’t really thinking straight. You had tears running down your face and your heart was rolled into a ball in the pit of your stomach. Nothing felt right and you just wanted to turn the car around and fall into Harry. You had just seen the marks on his skin in real time with your own eyes and everytime you shut yours they were lit up with big bold letters beside them. He’s met someone else, get over it. You weren’t looking for an eye for an eye with Harry, but you also didn’t want to show up by yourself and seem anymore sad and alone, however stupid and counterproductive that sounds. 

Connor had texted you back almost immediately, clearly looking to hear from you. He said he would love to join you, babe! Which could not have sounded more unnatural coming out of his mouth, or across the screen. Same difference. You guessed you really had no choice than to go, now. 

When the day of the party rolled around, you had done everything in your power to stay at work for as long as you possibly could. Save from actually rearranging your desk furniture for the upteenth time, you dredged home to change before Connor picked you up. He had insisted on driving you, (clearly trying to establish his good guy facade) and you would have rather had him hit you with his car than go to the party. A bit dramatic on your end but you really, desperately, whole heartedly, DID NOT want to go. He could just knick you a little and then you would really have a reason not to go. Wait, were you actually thinking of asking a guy you barely knew to hit you…. With his….. Moving car?! Get a grip! You can do this. It’s not like you actually had to have a conversation with Harry, you just had to show up and make your presence somewhat known. You didn’t have to give a toast in his honor or read a poem about your deepest strongest feelings for him. You could do this. It was just one night. One night of acting like you weren’t in love with him, one night of acting like your heart hadn;t been ripped out of your chest, once night of hiding the love that you felt so deeply for him. One more night of you trying to convince yourself that you never needed to know what it was like to feel him brush your hair back as he kissed you, that you never needed to know what it was like for him to glance at you from across the room and wrap you up in his arms, just because he could, that you never needed to know what it sounded like to hear him moan your name out in the middle of the night. 

 One more night of you trying to convince yourself that he was so much a part of your heart that it was practically in the shape of an H. You could do this. You could learn how to love him from a distance. You at least had to try. 

**

Connor had volunteered to come by your house and pick you up, which you had wanted to say no to, but you thought it was the least you could do if you were dragging him along to this party with you. You could tell that as soon as you asked him to come with you, and who the party was for, he was more than game to go. Name dropping was absolutely not something you ever did, especially Harry’s name, but when he asked you didn’t see any reason to lie. 

The drive to the party had been a quiet one, only glancing at him when you felt like it was absolutely necessary when he asked you a question. You gave him short answers, instead focusing on the car getting closer and closer to Harry’s house. When the car came to a gradual stop and Harry's house was in view, you felt your stomach drop and your hands start to shake. You very sullenly opened the door and got out, wanting nothing more than to bolt down the street on foot. 

Connor walked from the other side of the car to yours, and you kept your hands to yourself, crossing your arms before falling in line beside him and walking up Harry’s driveway. You could hear loud laughter booming as you got closer to the front door, and you could only guess that Harry was attributing to some of the sound. You let out a small whimper before almost bolting back to the car. The front door to his house was wide open, adding to the relaxed, and easy going mood of the night. You strolled in with Connor in tow, him closely following behind you.  When you glanced back at him he was wide eyed, taking in his surroundings while simultaneously taking a count of every one that was there, clearly not used to being around famous people. The house had a few people grazing in and out, with the majority of the people outside in Harry’s backyard. Lights were strung in the trees and you could hear the faint sounds of Fleetwood Mac playing somewhere in the distance.

You felt like a zombie walking into the party, your heart was in your throat and you were afraid to dart your eyes around to see who else was in the room. Too afraid that Harry would be in your immediate direction and you would be forced to look at him and talk to him and hear his voice.  Just the image of him in your head made your heart physically ache in your chest and speed ip all at the same time. You didn’t want to see him, but at the same time you wanted to see him as painful as it would be. You just wanted to lay your eyes on him, maybe from a distance, hiding underneath a table where no one could see you weeping, or you know, something like that. 

You were busy talking to a mutual friend of yours and Harry’s when you swore you felt the wind in the air change. As dramatic as it sounds, you suddenly felt warmer, safer, and you could feel a pair of very familiar eyes on you. You shifted your gaze from your friend, and when you turned around you made direct eye contact with Harry. Your pulse was rising and you swore you could hear your heart pounding in your ears. You could feel your eyes beginning to brim with tears before you looked away to (as discreetly as  you could) wipe your eyes. You felt stuck in your stance but you couldn't ignore the other feeling pulling at you, almost pushing you over to him. 

You were trying to listen to what your friend was saying, something about a new cat of hers, but you couldn't hear a word over your whirling thoughts and your head was starting to become dizzy from your eyes darting around the room trying to find Harry again. You were hot and bothered (and not in a good way) at the fact that he was in the same crowded room as you were now, and you felt like a sitting duck, just waiting. 

The selfish part of you wanted so badly to feel his arms wrap around your waist and his voice in your ear as opposed to only in your wildest daydreams. He was everywhere but physically with you, and when you really thought about it, that’s how it always seemed. Always on your mind and in your heart but never in your reach. Always a fleeting, overwhelming feeling that only seemed to grow over time. It grew in every touch you shared with him, in every timid and sometimes annoyed glance, every time you made him laugh and every time you made him grin and shake his head in disbelief at you. They grew each time you innocently fell asleep on the couch together after a night of movies, it grew each time he called you while he was away and you could hear the smile in his voice as he told you about each crowd, and each show and which joke he had come up with on stage that was way less funny than it actually sounded. It grew everyday just because he was Harry, just because he was him, and because you were you. You had no say in the matter anymore. 

A hand on the small of your back broke your train of thoughts, you jumped and nervously clutched the pendant hanging from your neck before you whipped your head around to see who it was. Much to your disappointment you were met with Connor’s eyes instead of bright green ones and you were unable to hide the pout that your face immediately fell into, and then the nervous uncomfortable smile that you shot at Connor. 

“There you are, lost you in the crowd for a bit! Good to see you again,” he said to you with an awkward smile as he threw an even more awkward arm around your shoulder. 

His arm felt like a dead weight draped around you and you felt nauseous at the mere sight of the two of you. Your cheeks were beginning to heat up and it certainly wasn’t at the feelings you had toward Connor, rather at the sight of your friend's eyes on you two, together. If this was the look they were sporting, you could only imagine what Harry’s would look like. 

You smiled while Connor introduced himself to your friend while at the same time gently but firmly removing his arm from your shoulder. You let it fall to his side before running your hand up and down your arm, suddenly cold from the strange contact and the cool air rustling through you from outside. At the same time as the chill went through you, you heard a familiar voice directly behind you and your knees buckled. You could feel the heat radiating off of Harry behind you and you wanted nothing more than to turn around and fall into his familiar warmth and smell. Oh god you could feel your throat thickening and eyes tearing, this was not the time to cry with he who shall not be named literally directly behind you, close enough to reach out and touch. Get it together! 

You heard the conversation behind you die down and before you knew it you felt the familiar brush of a shoulder against yours and your eyes clamped shut before opening again. You felt the air being stolen from your lungs while his presence practically enveloped yours and you felt yourself starting to sway towards him. You felt your breath hitch before your eyes even met his and when they finally did you practically melted into a puddle at his feet. 

“Uh oh-- look who it is! Hi love,” Harry warmly spoke to you before his eyes took in your appearance, looking you up and down. 

You opened your mouth to speak and when just a squeak came out you cleared your throat before muttering a very profound, dramatically quiet, “Hi, H” Brilliant. Just brilliant! 

“Hi love,” he said through a chuckle. 

It was like it was just the two of you in the room, his gaze was warm on yours and his eyes were glossy as he watched you and it wasn’t until Connor broke up the moment with a nudge of his elbow annoyingly against yours that you looked away. 

You let out a nervous, annoying high pitched laugh before you coughed and turned towards Connor. 

“Um, Harry this is, this is Connor, Connor this is Harry,” you gestured in between the both of them and nervously tucked your hair behind your ear before you started fiddling with your pendant again. 

Harry’s gazed dropped to the floor before he solemnly picked his head up and reached his hand out to shake Connor’s hand, and you had never wanted to go back in time so badly, back in time to when Connor picked you up, instead of just asking him to hit you with his stupid car just to get you out of this horribly awkward and uncomfortable moment. 

Harry cleared his throat before firmly shaking Connor’s hand (almost a little too firmly if the buckle in Connor’s knees told you anything) and introducing himself. 

“Nice to meet you, thanks for,” Harry glanced in between the both of you before continuing, “Thanks for coming out tonight.” 

Connor cleared his throat before you could see him trying to make himself taller by puffing his chest out and muttering a less than confident, “So good to meet you, mate! I’m a huge fan of all of your….. Stuff!” 

You dropped your gaze back to the floor and your cheeks were positively on fire and when you looked back at Harry he had a dazed, confused and solemn look on his face that you couldn’t quite read. 

Harry spoke up before you could think to say literally anything and he stratched his hand up and down the back of his neck, (a nervous habit you picked up on years ago) before he sighed and looked back, only at you this time. 

“Well, I’m glad you’re both- you’re both here. Drinks are around back and I’ll be around if you need anything,” he gave you a weak smile and you just shook your head before looking down at your feet again. 

It was the most awkward, lukewarm conversation (if you can even call it that) and you felt sick to your stomach- had you two reached that point in your friendship? In your whatever-you-call-this-ship? If you took being with Harry in a romantic sort of way off the table completely, if you learned to love him from a distance, is this what it would be like and feel like?

The awkward silence and not knowing what to say, the knowing glances and not-knowing glances, and the glances where you know what one of you wants to say but you just... can’t? The rubbish timing and people in between you, the aching, empty feeling in the pit of your stomach and your heart. Not being in his life remotely as much as you were, now? You weren’t sure you could do that. No, you were positive you couldn’t do that. 

**

The majority of the night consisted of stolen, painful glances and half lipped smiles and half full glasses. You had listened to the toasts in Harry’s honor and the speeches recounting details of tour life and rounds of applause. After things had died down a bit and you had lost Connor in the crowd of people (thankfully and more than willingly),  you found yourself inside the house, wandering the halls and eventually landing in his closet. 

It was a strange thing, but his wardrobe always brought a sense of comfort to you. It was big enough to live in and packed to the brim with clothes enough to make you feel oddly safe. Surrounded by the pieces that made Harry who he was and  that had memories of the two of you intertwined through the fabric. And out of the corner of your eye you spotted those atrocious white loafers of his, on the bottom shelf of his shoe shelf and you couldn’t help but let out a loud, slightly inebriated, genuine giggle. 

“Thought I heard someone pilfering through my things like a thief in the night, should have known it was you,” 

You whipped your head around and your eyes raised and settled in surprise, that warm, almost burning feeling in your chest back again, like it was every time you caught him looking at you. 

“I actually just came in here to confiscate these god awful loafers from your closet, never got around to doing that when I was here,” you smiled through your nerves and Harry was gazing at you so warmly you could feel the effects of it all throughout your body. 

“You know they're actually not that bad, paired with the right pair of trousers they don’t look so grandpa-y,” he chuckled through his sentence and you mirrored a similar, giddy one. 

“Ah of course of course, all depends on how you style it, Lambert teach you that trick, huh, H?” 

You noticed a blush creeping down his neck and you could feel the butterflies beginning to erupt in the pit of your stomach. 

“He did actually, practically his prodigy at this point, y’know?” 

“Oh yeah I bet you are- I’m sure you’re a great student,” 

He let out a loud laugh and his eyes were crinkling at your joke and he shook his head before he looked at you again. 

He moved closer to you and you felt yourself drift closer to him in response.He was close enough to you now for you to feel the heat radiating off of him, and your fingers itched to reach out and touch him. 

He raised his hand up to brush your hair out of your face and behind your ear, and your breath hitched before he brought his gaze up to yours. 

Your hand instinctively reached to squeeze his forearm before you moved it across his body to rest on his chest. His hand moved from your hair to grab your hand and he held it firmly, proudly against his chest. You were surprised to feel his heart beating rapidly against the back of your hand, and it took everything in you not to lean forward and brush your lips against his. 

His voice was raspy and warm when he opened his mouth, “I realy, really missed you. I’m s’happy you’re here tonight. Always feel so much better when I can see you from across the room,” 

You could feel the tears pooling in your eyes and you had to divert your gaze to the row of shoes behind him in order for the tears not to pool down your cheeks. You were leaning into his chest and he was holding a firm, but tentative grip on the side of your face with his other hand. 

You could feel his calloused fingers resting against your cheek and it grounded you in the moment and at the same time made your heart race faster. 

How could he say things, incredible incredible things like this to you, and have marks from someone else on his neck, at the same time? 

That thought was enough to  bring you back to earth and you cleared your throat before briefly shifting your stance in his arms.

 You retreated the tiniest bit and his hands and eyes were following you, and with whatever strength you had left you squeaked out, “I’m really happy I’m here too, H. I can’t even tell you how good it feels to be in the same room as you again,” your eyes fluttered and shut as you managed to get that out and you felt him rest his forehead against yours. 

A knock on the door broke you two out of the moment, you could hear the faint voice of Connor (otherwise known as the ultimate moment ruiner) and an ask if you were ready to leave. 

You and Harry were still standing there, resting against each other and his eyes were boring into yours and you just wanted the floor to swallow you both whole. Take the both of you somewhere far, far away where no one else can be found. 

You sighed before taking another step backwards out of his grip and muttered a very shaky, nervous, “well I, I guess I should go, he’s kind of my ride,” 

Harry cleared his throat before he released his grip on you and you saw his smile turn into a frown before he said, “oh yeah- of course love. I’ll, I guess I’ll see you soon? Thank you f’comin,” 

He leaned down to kiss your forehead and you let out the tiniest, hopefully inaudible whimper and you took his hands in yours and gave them a good squeeze before turning away from him. 

Heart in your throat and partially in the pit of your stomach you made your way out of his closet and down the hall, where Connor was waiting for you with a giddy grin. He was chit chatting with one of the sound engineers that works on tour with Harry, assuming that was where his good mood was coming from. You watched them say goodbye and when you turned to open the door to leave you couldn’t help but let out a confused, albeit relieved laugh. 

You had brought Connor here feeling terrible of giving him the impression you were leading him on, and here he was meeting someone totally new. You were halfway down the driveway when you saw him turn around and wave goodbye to her yet again before you stopped yourself completely. 

Wait a minute- wait a minute- wait a minute-wait a minute! If an absolute emobossil of a guy like Connor could meet someone at a house party where he knew literally no one, who's to say you were wrong about how you thought that Harry felt about you? There weren't exactly any rules to love, not any that made sense anyway. Who’s to say that Harry doesn’t feel the exact same way about you, as you do him? 

Who’s to say that he’s not as ridiculously, overwhelmingly, annoyingly,  dramatically as in love with you, as you are him? You weren’t sure, but you had to find out. 

Connor stopped once he realized you weren’t following him anymore, and he turned his head to look at you before walking backwards to catch up to you. 

“Did you forget something inside?” he asked you with a quirk to his brow. 

You laughed before answering him, “you know what? I actually did. I’ll go back in and get it and just get a car from here, don’t worry about me!” 

“Are you sure? I don’t mind waiting.” he said to you before looking behind you to peer at his new friend again. 

“I’m positive, plus it looks like someone else is waiting for you, go on,” you smiled before glancing behind you and waving. 

“Are you sure?” he asked without even looking at you and you just shook your head. 

“I’m more than sure, go on,” you smiled at him again and gave his shoulder a friendly, reassuring squeeze. 

And with that you sprinted back into the house and left Connor on the sidewalk to catch up with his new friend. 

When you got back into the house there was no one inside, just the aftermath of a usual houseparty- empty bottles of alcohol everywhere and balloons and streamers littering the floor of Harry’s foyer. 

You didn’t see him in the kitchen or the living room, so you ran back down the hallway to the wardrobe you left him in. You burst through the door without knocking and sure enough, there he was sat on the ground picking at the carpet on the floor of his closet. 

His eyes shot up at you and he jumped to his feet. 

“What are y-” 

He was cut off by you lunging at him and you gripped the collar of his shirt before tugging him down to where he was eye level with you. 

“Love, what are y’doing,” he asked you while rested his forehead against yours, panting at your close proximity. 

“Shh, please I need to say this,” you shakily started. 

“Harry, I-- oh god I can’t believe i’m saying this, I-,” 

“Wait wait, no I need t’say somethin’ first,” he countered when you failed to get the words out. 

You took a shaky breath in and you could feel the warmth of his body pulling you in further towards him. 

“I love you, I love you, I- m’so in love with you. Please tell m’you don’t love him, please tell me i’m not too late, that we’re not too late,” 

You felt your face drop in shock and as dramatic as it was you thought you were going to pass out face first on the very plush carpet of his closet. 

“You-you what?!” you practically shouted at him. Your fingertips were burning as you gripped his shirt tighter and you felt like your heart was going to physically beat out of your chest with how loud it was pounding in your ears and against your ribcage. 

“I love you, I mean it, I truly, truly do. M’going out of my mind. Please y’can’t leave with him, I can’t be without you any longer,” 

“Harry , I-” you started, only to be cut off again by his stammering. 

“M’sorry it took me so long t’say but god I mean it, I love you. I’ve been going out of my mind since I got home, I see you everywhere here. You’re in every room I go into, and every corner that I look. I’m better when you’re here, I’m more-- I’m just better. Please, I just, I love you, you have t’believe me,” 

When you didn’t say anything back in response Harry took that as his cue to back away but instead you gripped on to him even tighter. 

It was suddenly a lot hotter in his room and you were full on shoulders raised and fingers shaking panting,  and there were streams of tears rolling down your face. 

“You what?!” you shouted at him in disbelief, again. 

He laughed before shaking his head at you, “Do you need me to repeat all of that to you again?” 

Your only response was to pull him towards you the rest of the way and to slot his lips against yours. The kiss started languilly and Harry was cradling your face in his hands to keep the both of you steady. His lips were so soft and gentle against yours, and you could feel the faint tugging of the remnants of facial hair against your skin and you melted into him. 

Your lungs were starting to burn and when you physically couldn’t keep kissing him you broke away from his lips and rested your head against his chest. 

You were both panting and when he muttered your name to get you to look at him, you couldn’t help but look up at him with watery eyes. 

While this was a mind blowing revelation and you were 50% sure you were dreaming, you got sight of the stupid marks against his neck and you had to finally ask where the hell those came from. 

You pulled him to you again, and snaked your arms around the wide expanse of his shoulders. You ran your (albeit shaky) fingers down his neck until you brought your eyes to meet his again. 

“Who, who gave you these?” you said, voice barely above a whisper. 

Harry looked down at your hands, “Gave me what?” 

“What do you mean, ‘gave you what’?! Who gave you these marks?” 

“What marks? Love these are from my stupid guitar strap,” 

His guitar strap?! His stupid stupid fucking guitar strap?! That was why you had been breaking into sobbing fits for the past two weeks?! 

“Are you- are you serious?! That’s why i’ve been crying at the drop of the hat every second since our call  a few weeks ago?!” you shook your head and laughed, “I thought someone, I thought you had met someone, and you know…..” 

“Absolutely not love. Don’t really have the time for that when i’m on the road, not like i’ve really been interested in that lately to begin with,” he gestured to you and you sputtered out a laugh. 

“Okay, well if we’re admitting stuff I guess I should tell you, I’m not with him, Connor. We’ve never been together. I barely know him. I just drugged him here tonight so I wouldn’t be here alone…” 

Harry dropped his head in relief before pushing his hair back from his forehead, “Oh thank god,” he muttered from behind his hands. 

“Does that mean that you…..” he started. 

“I love you, I love you, I absolutely love you, H. You’re my favorite person in the world, I love you, I always have. I’ve always been here,” 

Harry lunged forward and slotted his lips against yours again, that was an answer all in itself. 

When you broke apart finally Harry spoke up before resting his forehead against yours. 

“From here on out, let’s just be honest with each other, yeah? Would have saved a lot of trouble if we’d just said how we felt from the start,” 

You simply nodded before pulling him into you and nuzzling your face in his neck. 

You stood there for a few moments, just basking in this new feeling of love and sureness that you had between the two of you. Your lips started to quirk and you raised your head from his neck. 

“If we’re being completely honest here H, you have got to get rid of those terrible, terrible shoes,” you said it with a serious face before you burst into laughter.

He laughed a bug, genuine laugh before resting his hands on your hips. 

“I guess that can be arranged, love,” he rolled his eyes playfully and you batted at his chest. 

What a terribly fun love this was going to be. 

[penguintransporter]

Winning The Game Called Love (Hector Bellerin) PART V

Part V of this little piece that I enjoy writing so much. It is a bit longer, but if you ask me, totally worth your time. The entire story was inspired by the outfit in the picture, so I wanted to post it. Also, I kinda want to dedicate this chapter to one and only @varanest​ because of all the support I got, and of course all you anons that decided to write me - you have no idea how much it means to get encouragement for one’s work. Anyway, this was supposed to be the last part, but I think there will be one more after this because I don’t want to leave you hanging (epilogue maybe?) Let me know what you think...

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part IV

________

Aida wrapped her long coat tighter around her body, trying to stop herself from shivering even if she was well aware that she wasn’t doing so because she was cold.

Her battered Dr. Martens boots echoed as she walked along the edge of the vast parking lot, and except for few expensive-looking cars parked randomly and a very bored security guard, sitting in his small cubicle, watching Fawlty Towers – it was completely empty. 

Aida pulled her phone out, nervously checking the time, but deep down she was just doing it in order to see if there was maybe a text message from Héctor, telling her where to look for him.

What if this is all just a prank?

Was he watching her now, laughing his arse off?

Just as she was about to jump on the train of doubtful thoughts and untrue conclusions, she spotted him – her heartbeat speeding up ever so slightly.

Héctor was leaning on the wall, illuminated by the spotlights surrounding the exit doors – eyes trained on his phone as he lazily moved his thumb across the screen. Aida’s stomach did a quick flip as she stopped for a second, observing him from from afar - letting the familiar rush of excitement run through her, followed by yet another shiver. 

This time she didn’t even try to make herself believe that it was because of the low temperatures.

Deciding that she had been creeping on Héctor for too long – not that she could be blamed in the first place, Aida started walking towards him – her heart beating loudly in her ears, masking the noise that her boots made. Nervously, she smoothed down her clothes, exhaling softly.

Héctor looked up at her as she approached – a slow grin appearing across his face as he slid his phone in the pocket of his trousers. Aida smiled back feeling her bile rising as she quickened her pace, and before she could say or do anything, Héctor had already pulled her into one of those hugs that made any other hug she received less important. 

Surprised by the sudden and unexpected contact, Aida wrapped her hands around him awkwardly.

It was a mistake, she knew it, but she couldn’t help herself – inhaling deeply, she let her guard down for just a few seconds, enjoying their closeness. Aida could tell that he recently had his post-match shower, both by his scent and the wet tips of his hair that tickled her face as they hugged.

“Nice to see you,” Héctor spoke, breaking the hug, and Aida, for the lack of better reaction, smiled softly as she took a reluctant step backwards. There was nothing more she wanted than to stay in his embrace for much longer, but she had to maintain healthy distance – after all, they weren’t even – heck, Aida didn’t even know what they were.

Still, that pretend distance that was supposed to keep her feelings in check meant nothing once Héctor gave her a cheeky once-over, grinning like an idiot. Not knowing what to do or say, Aida nervously pulled at the strings of the hoodie she was wearing – suddenly feeling warm throughout her entire body. 

She was blushing.

You’re acting like an idiot, Aida.

Héctor smirked at her – index finger moving closer to her chin only to tug the string out of her grip gently, muttering something in Spanish. 

Or was it English? Catalan?

“I hope you don’t mind me wearing it in public,” Aida muttered, smoothing down the hoodie while avoiding looking at him. When he didn’t say anything, she continued, trying to sound like her normal self that seemed to be lost somewhere between her feelings for the handsome right-back and the intense brown of his eyes, “I really enjoyed the match, thanks for inviting me.”

“All of it? Or just the last fifteen minutes that I was out on the pitch?” Héctor teased, giving her a small wink. Aida felt that familiar warmth wash over her yet again as he pointed at the exit doors behind him. “It’s a good thing that we won, then. That goal was a proper beauty.”

Aida, deciding that her sarcasm might be her best bet, gave him her best fake surprised face as he stepped forward, opening the doors for her and holding them in place. “Wait, what?” she asked, suppressing a smile, “are you trying to tell me that you weren’t the lads in blue?”

Héctor laughed lightly, adjusting the red beanie on his head, and it made Aida stop for a second when she realised how well put together he actually looked – despite playing a major game just an hour before. From the choice of his clothes to the tiny details like his cross earring and few statement rings on his long, tattooed fingers. 

Stop staring.

“You humour me,”  Héctor retorted as Aida she squeezed herself next to him and took a few steps towards the glint of light that was coming from the world outside.

**

“Look, I will stand here and all you have to do is try to kick the ball past me,” Héctor instructed, still crouching in front of her where he was adjusting ‘the ball’.  

She enjoyed the silly competitions - never failing to make a fool out of herself willingly or not, and she had nothing against some football, despite being very, very bad at it, but as Héctor tried to explain the challenge, Aida noted two problems.

First – the ground beneath her boots was slightly muddy, sticking to the soles of her boots, and second – the ball that Héctor was fixing wasn’t actually a ball, but  a pine cone that he kept hitting as they walked through the park since they arrived.

For some reason or another, they ended up in Highbury Fields – taking the empty pathway along the rows of naked trees and wintery bushes, and despite the silence between them, Aida enjoyed their stroll as she stole glances at him every now and then like a lovesick schoolgirl. The park seemed to be very quiet just for them, with only occasional passerby that didn’t even spare a second look at the professional footballer and a petite brunette with rosy cheeks next to him. 

“It’s ridiculous,” she commented, adjusting her hat nervously. “I know it doesn’t look like it, but I have two lefts attached to my body.”

Héctor chuckled at her, glancing quickly at her. “You just have to believe in yourself.”

“Easy for you to say,” Aida huffed, “it’s like competing against, I don’t know—have you seen yourself on the pitch?”

“Few times, but I am glad to find out that you did as well,” Héctor teased as Aida felt her stomach being evaded by thousands of butterflies. “Would it help if I motivated you somehow?”

Aida looked down at him, finding herself both annoyed and turned on with his cheeky smirk. She could sense that he had an idea on his mind, and frankly, she was slightly scared. “Go on, vice-captain…” Aida urged, placing both of her hands on her waist.

“That ball—,”

“—Pine cone, you mean?”

Héctor made a silly face at her, and once again, her stomach made a flip. 

“That pine cone,” he corrected himself, “if you manage to get it past me, I am buying you dinner after this. There’s a great vegan place down the road, and I’ve been peckish for a while now.”

Aida blushed, imagining them sitting at the table together, candle burning in  middle, and his hand slowly touching hers— she stopped herself, shaking her head lightly.

You need to stop watching Hallmark movies.

“And if I don’t?” Aida asked, composing herself.

“I haven’t thought about it,” he spoke as he got up, dusting his hands against his trousers before giving her a look under his eyebrows. “Come on, unicorn. Have faith in yourself because I do.”

**

Not only did she lost the challenge, but she has also managed to fall on her arse and stain her relatively new coat with the wet mud. Despite giving her best, Aida knew that with her two left legs and balance or rather lack of it, she wasn’t going to win this one, no matter how much he tried to make it easy for her.

“Well, that was embarrassing,” she grinned at him like a Cheshire cat, brushing her coat with her hands as he took off his hat for a second, running his fingers through his locks before putting it back in the place.

Héctor stifled a laugh before hitting the unlucky pine cone with a real force, making it fly and land along the bushes, few meters away. “It wasn’t that bad,” he grinned, and Aida rolled her eyes at him. “I’ve seen worse.”

“Who? My granny?” she joked as Héctor took a step closer, only to pull her hat over her eyes, making her gasp and swat his hand away. “I was actually looking forward to that dinner,” Aida added with a sigh.

“It can still happen, y’know?”

“That’s because you’re peckish, innit?” Aida teased back, blushing lightly as Héctor smirked at her.  

Slowly, they made their way down the long stretch of park, towards the exit as Aida tried to come up with something to say. She knew that she had no need to keep talking, but she enjoyed the silly banter with him; it was relaxing her.

Aida looked around the park.

The dusk had already set – the layer of fog forming slowly, and despite the gloominess of the winter, it looked beautiful. She stuck her hands in her pockets as she observed the nature surrounding them.

“I was wondering…” Aida started softly after a while – a thought that has been bouncing around her mind, tickled her curiosity.

“Hmm?” Héctor hummed as Aida glanced up at him – her heart making a dip into her stomach.

Hot. Ridiculously hot.

“Why did you want to meet up after the match?” she asked, making a detour around a small pool of mud in front of her. “And most importantly, how did you get my number?”

Héctor laughed lightly, glancing at her and Aida quickly looked away. “Blimey, are you always this curious?”

“Sometimes,” she teased, but on the inside she was becoming a nervous wreck. Héctor stopped for a second; Aida did the same, feeling of anticipation growing inside of her as she waited for his answer. “Come on, Hec,” she added softly, using his nickname for the first time.

He took a step closer – his face shadowed by something else other than his boyish demeanour; something that Aida couldn’t put her finger on what it was.

“Let’s say that I suddenly got curious about magical creatures,” he finally answered – the corner of his lips moving upwards as he took a step back away, starting to walk again. “Also, you still owe me a sign language tutorial. Don’t think I forgot about that.”

It was Aida’s turn to giggle as she caught up with him. “Hate to say this, but not many birds would appreciate that kind of flirting, Héctor.”

“What about you? Would you appreciate it?” he asked nonchalantly and Aida’s breath hitched in her throat.

How can he say something like that and keep his cool?

For what seemed like ages, Aida tried to make herself breathe again. The only thing she was able to do as she tried to gain back her composure was to open and close her mouth like a fish. It certainly didn’t help that Héctor kept his eyes trained on her, smirking mischievously.

He was more than pleased with himself.

“I… I’m, ugh – idiot,” she groaned, burying her face in her hands.

Héctor chuckled, tugging at her coat sleeve, making her look up at him. “My God, you are unbelievable, but in a good way.”

Aida blushed a further shade of red as she looked at him, wishing she wasn’t because a certain type of tension was growing between them and it made her heartbeat accelerate.

“It’s all your fault,” she blurted out, quickly realising that she actually voiced her thoughts instead of keeping them inside her head. Burned with the realisation that she humiliated herself once again, she took a step back.

“Guilty as charged,” he grinned at her playfully, and all Aida wanted to do was to find a rock and hide underneath it for a while. “Y’know, I wasn’t joking with what I said about the dinner,” Héctor started, switching the subject casually as Aida managed to gain some of her confidence back – her cheeks cooling down ever so slightly, “but you still need to keep the end of your bargain.”

“And here I thought you forgot about it, silly me,” she joked back, trying to sound cool, but on the inside she was feeling the nervousness growing yet again. “What do I have to do?” Aida asked, pretending that she was ready for whatever he had in his mind.

“Kiss me,” Héctor responded nonchalantly as if he was asking her about the time or as if he was wondering if it was raining outside.

Aida swallowed – her eyes going wide for a second as her mind shut itself. She was desperately trying to find the goddamn switch, but it was in vain.

She was not ready for this.

“Fine,” she whispered, nervously sticking her hands in the pockets of her coat. “A kiss,” she repeated and Héctor nodded, looking at her with a small smile dancing on his lips as he waited. She nodded as well, more as an encouragement to herself before taking a step towards him. 

Without wasting a moment, she tiptoed ever so slightly, giving him a peck on the cheek - softness of his skin surprising her for a second. Not pleased with the execution, but glad that she didn’t humiliate herself once again, she smiled, taking a step back and in the direction of the exit gates that were in front of them.

Before she knew what was happening, Héctor’s hand pulled at her arm, and Aida only blinked fast couple of times when she found herself facing him once again. He was gently pulling her closer towards him - one of his eyebrows rising slightly as he locked his eyes with hers. Aida waited for that cocky grin of his to appear on his face, but it didn’t; not this time.

She only saw moments like this in the movies and TV shows, and more than often she wondered if they existed in real life or if they were just a product of creative freedom. Whatever the case was, Aida wasn’t sure what was she supposed to feel because instead of the romantic anticipation she imagined when watching those, all she felt was a turmoil of butterflies in her stomach and a slight wave of panic rising inside of her.

Aida blushed a deep shade of red as Héctor’s arm sneaked around her waist, underneath her open coat, and for a second, she thought that her heart had stopped beating.

“For someone who knows the sign language, you really are very bad at reading them.”

“You didn’t specify— it’s not the same,” she breathed out shakily as Héctor’s other hand went up to her cheek where it settled perfectly against her jawline as he drew her in closer. The rings he wore felt cool against her burning skin as he watched her – eyes searching for a silent encouragement in hers.  “Héctor,” Aida mumbled, heat rising inside of her, “whatever you’re about to do, can you just do it?”

She didn’t expect him to laugh, yet he did – throwing his head back for a second before looking back at her, and just when she was thinking that he was only teasing her, he leaned down, capturing her lips in proper kiss. The moment it happened, her eyelids fluttered close and she felt a tingle ran down her spine – her legs suddenly becoming weak. Quickly, she pulled her hands out of her pockets, sneaking them around his neck for support. 

Maybe that was exactly what he was waiting for because Aida could feel him deepen the kiss, pulling her even closer.

There were moments, many of them, if she was going to be honest, when she wondered how it would feel to have his lips against hers, and now that she finally had the chance, Aida didn’t want to stop, and it scared her. Getting on her tiptoes, she brought herself closer, wanting him to know that she wanted the kiss; that she needed him to kiss her, and just as she started to relax into him, the kiss became just a gentle brush of his full lips against hers.

Much to her dismay, Héctor pulled away, and she suddenly became childishly shy, looking bashfully down at their shoes.

Do I say something now?

Is it wrong that I want to snog him again?

You just kissed Héctor, Aida.

“Much better,” Héctor smirked, giving his bottom lip a small bite as Aida glanced up at him, wondering what was going through his mind. Did he feel the same tingles as she did? Does he want to kiss her again as much as she wants to kiss him? 

“Uhm—,” Aida trailed off, nervously looking away – her arms nervously swaying as Héctor took a step back while running his hand along his jaw. Aida felt a shiver of cold run through her, suddenly missing the the warmth of his hand against her face; his arm around her waist. 

“Hungry?” he suddenly asked, sticking his hands in the pockets of his jacket.

Aida didn’t say anything, but nodded confusedly, closing her eyes for a second as they started walking towards the exit gate – a small but timid smile appearing on her lips.

[darlingsdevil]

Of The Valley (Joel x Reader)

Chapter 6: MIA

Summary: Life in Jackson is never easy. Consoling angsty teenagers, wading through the mysterious waters of Joel’s romance language and with a child of your own on the way? Life is about to get a lot harder.

CHATPER WARNING: This chapter contains mentions of teenage drinking and smoking weed.

Tag list (comment to be added or removed) @sidepuff @joelsheartache @fangirl-inthe-us @cowboyfrazer @scarletpines @mikah-writes @sleepylunarwolf @mr-robot-x @shybookdragon @heughan @writer-jamie @nelliecraine

Of The Valley Masterlist

RDR2 Masterlist

•••

You fell asleep on the couch once you calmed down, you wanted to sleep for the night and worry tomorrow. Yet loud knocking on your door in the late hours of the night awoke you.

You jolted awake and looked out through the window from your spot on the couch, seeing a shadow of a person through the curtains.

Another loud knock.

“Alright! Fine! I’m coming!” You shouted, angrily throwing your blanket off of you. You unlocked the door and looked at the visitor.

“Dina?”

“Hey, Y/N. I’m really sorry for waking you up so late and probably Mark too, I know this is super out of the blue but, do you by any chance know where Ellie went?” She asked you. Dina wasn’t on your list of people you had avoided, she was constantly in the bar with Jesse. Dina was the life of the party, with her came laughter and excitement, she was easy to be around, which is why you never avoided her. There were no expectations from her, she was just a kid that was kind and didn’t push. You hadn’t seen her nearly as much as you used to, or anyone for that matter, but you never outright refused to be around her, or cross the street when you saw her walking your way.

You shifted in your spot, straightening yourself up. “No, is everything okay?”

“Yeah, it’s just that I don’t know where Ellie went, I looked around town and everything but she’s not here,” Dina said, worry slowly filling her eyes.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know where she went. Maybe ask Joel?”

“I just.. don’t want to worry Joel or put anymore strain on them,” Dina explained. “But I just figured since you went on patrol with them she could have mentioned it.”

“No, she didn’t mention it to me. Any chance she could have snuck out?” You rose a brow. Teenagers snuck out all the damn time, it was no secret, though rarely anyone mentioned it. It was an unspoken rule, teenagers even in the apocalypse were rebellious.

“It’s probably the most likely choice.. I’m just worried because it’s so late and she almost always tells me beforehand or invites me along too,” Dina rambled, her hands fidgeting at her side as she explained it to you.

“Have you told Maria, Ellie’s missing?”

“No, Maria would kill Ellie if she knew she snuck out.” That was true, considering when teens usually snuck out they smoked pot and drank alcohol, you didn’t want Maria searching for a dopey drunk Ellie.

“Yeah, I would tell her if Ellie doesn’t come back by sunrise,” You suggested. “Where’s Jesse by the way?”

“We got into an argument earlier, I just didn’t want to bother him, you know?”

You understood that well enough.

“I’m going to go out looking for her, I just wanted to make sure someone knew where I was going too, sorry for waking you, goodnight.” Dina was ready to leave, but you pulled her back. You could leave Jackson for an hour or two.. you had done it for a full night, besides you couldn’t let a teenager go out there by herself. You couldn’t let her wake up Joel or alert Maria either, both would make Ellie only angrier. You didn’t want to leave Jackson, much less two days in a row, but if you had done it before you could do it again. It wasn’t patrol either, you would probably find her within the next few hours. She couldn’t have gone far.

“Woah, woah, woah. You can’t go out there alone, especially not during the night, I’m going with you.”

“Are you sure?” Dina asked.

“Yeah I am, let me go get my coat first, I’ll be right back.” You fetched your coat from your room, grabbing the pistol hidden in your dresser, you never wanted to pick it up again, or even have to use it, but there was no way you would leave town without it. The last thing you wanted to do was use it on hunters or infected — no matter who you were shooting at, you didn’t want to be the one to pull that trigger. But if it came down to life or death, you would use it, even if every ounce of your body screamed in protest, you would disregard it, you had used your rifle yesterday, what was a pistol to that? You still had work in the morning and was putting yourself in harm's way while pregnant really the best idea? It didn’t matter.. you needed to make sure Ellie was safe. You returned to Dina, she was biting her nail gently, her brow furrowed.

Once you stepped outside you realized how cold it had gotten, you could see your breath as you exhaled.

You waved the gun in the air, showing it to her.

“Any chance you have your gun with you?”

“No, I went to her house first and then got caught up looking for her, I forgot to bring it with me,” Dina explained.

“Hold on. There’s another gun upstairs, I’ll get it,” You replied, turning around and walking over to the staircase that led up to his loft. Mark had a stash of guns in his room, as protective as he was of all of his belongings, you were certain he wouldn’t mind you letting Dina borrow one. It wasn’t like he would be needing them anytime soon anyways.

But you hadn’t stepped foot in his room since it happened.

You opened the door up to the staircase, your head feeling like it was going to explode. Your heartbeat so loud in your ears you were sure even Dina could hear it. Every step was a louder groan from the creaky steps that resonated in your ears, you walked as slowly as you could. It was dusty in the staircase, it had been a long time since it had been used.

When you finally reached the top step you were ready to turn back around, tell Dina that you couldn’t find it. But you needed to open that door and let the memories flood in. You were having a child, if that wasn’t a new beginning you weren’t sure what was.

You weren’t ready to confront it all head on. The first step in a long road to recovery, it wasn’t something would happen overnight. But you had to start somewhere, maybe you started yesterday when you began reconciling with Joel, or stepping foot out of Jackson again, picking up a gun and doing the job you were meant to do. Regardless of when you started, that door was meant to be open, and you were at the very least ready to see what was behind it.

Even if you were terrified, even if you wanted to turn back. That door had to be opened.

You gently turned the knob, stepping inside the room. You felt like an intruder, like you had stepped into a scene you weren’t supposed to be in.

It looked different than you remembered.. everything had a darker hint to it, like the room had completely lacked life in the way that some abandoned places did. There was no presence, no feeling of being watched, just a room devoid of life..

Yet it also looked the same, his bedsheets still ruffled from that night.. his band posters littering the walls, his dusty record player in the corner. His snake plant by the window that had long since died. His never ending piles of flannels too.

It was almost too much, seeing his things left frozen in time, knowing that Mark would never return to this room. You had neglected everything he had so meticulously created, whether it be the plant he miraculously kept alive for years, the records he claimed needed to be heard regardless of how obscure they were, you had forgotten about it all. And now there was not even an energy in the room, like the life of the room itself in there had died with him. Now there was not even a presence of him, just a hallowed husk of a room.

There was something out of place though. Mark’s dog tags sitting on the knob of the dresser. He never took them off. Why were they here now? You could have sworn he was buried with them..

Maria.

It had to be Maria. When had she snuck up here? They looked like they had been there for awhile, collecting dust and all. Was the photo he kept in his pocket here too? You looked around the room but could not find them, instead you found his gun in his bedside table, grabbing his dog tags and locking away the memories behind you.

You walked back downstairs to Dina, you handed her Mark’s gun.

“I hope I didn’t wake Mark,” She said sincerely, placing the gun in her waistband.

“You didn’t.” You shook your head, clutching the dog tags in your hand.

•••

You and Dina had to be smart, taking side streets and cutting through backyards to get to the West gate. Dina decided Ellie was most likely in three places, the lake, the ski resort or the art museum that had a rooftop exhibit overlooking the river. The lake was the closest and was your best bet, so you decided to go there.

It wasn’t uncommon for you to be out at night, especially considering you had work very early in the morning, but this was too early. You hoped no night owls were up to see you with Dina at such a late hour.

You led Dina to the small hole in the wall that you could both easily slip through, dodging the night guards and the spotlights, you hugged the wall as you made it far enough to where you could not be seen. Perhaps it was foolish to sneak out to look for Ellie.. but you didn’t want to risk her getting in trouble with Joel or Maria.

You were anxious being outside of Jackson.. like there was a threat looming around every corner, but you had to find Ellie no matter what. You were glad Dina came to you, even if you weren’t her first, or second choice for that matter.

It didn’t matter if you had work in the morning — or you were pregnant, you needed to find Ellie. That was all that was on your mind, finding her, and making sure she got back into town safely and under the radar.

Ellie could handle herself well enough, you were hoping she was fine and just lost track of time. But why hadn’t she told Dina earlier in the day? Did she just forget? Was she with Cat? You were cautious of Cat.. she seemed nice enough but seemed like somewhat of a bad influence, and Ellie’s relationship with Cat seemed to cause a riff between her and Dina. Of course though, it wasn’t your place to judge. Joel was clueless when it came to teenage romance.. or perhaps he wasn’t and just hadn’t put Ellie and girls together. You hadn’t ever asked Ellie about it, but you knew regardless and she never denied it. At least to your knowledge she hadn’t told Joel.. which was understandable, but you doubt Joel would care and would still love her regardless.

You and Dina managed to make it to the treelines, far from the gate. It was only then did you begin talking.

“I’m going to be so pissed if she’s just drunk,” Dina said bitterly, shaking her head. You held your gun more tightly as you ventured further out. The lake wasn’t far at all, a twenty minute walk at most.

“How often do you guys sneak out?” You asked, your voice a whisper. Dina walked close to you as you found the nature path that led to the lake. It had been so long since you walked that road.. at least three months.

“It depends. A lot though, more often in summer. Not usual for us to go out in fall though, same for spring. Winter we usually just go sledding. I’d say once a month or so,” Dina replied quietly.

You continued walking in silence before Dina spoke.

“Have you ever snuck out?”

“I have, just a few times. Even adults get ansty sometimes.”

“I guess that’s only somewhat shocking. The one person I could never imagine sneaking out is Joel, he seems too hardcore survivalist to any fun.”

“You would be surprised,” You chuckled lightly.

Dina whipped her head around to face you, her mouth agape in humorous shock.

“You’re telling me Joel Miller is a party animal?”

“He’s not.. that much of a partier,” You said, your voice very quiet.

“I can’t believe this. And Mark?”

“Yeah, Mark is the party.” Mark didn’t particularly like big parties.. he preferred smaller ones but he still knew how to let loose.. perhaps too loose sometimes.

Dina didn’t have much to say to that, other than that she could see that Mark liked to party. It was true, Mark liked dancing, music and hard liquor, he just didn’t particularly like large groups of people, as much of a social butterfly as he was.

You walked in silence for a few more minutes, your mind on high alert, glancing behind you frequently to make sure anything - or anyone was following you. You knew it was stupid to not tell anyone where you and Dina were going, or that you had snuck out, but you didn’t want to risk Ellie being caught. It was strange, you had completely abandoned her and Joel for months and now you couldn’t stand the thought of her getting in trouble at the expense of just doing something a normal teenager would do. Perhaps it was the weird new maternal instinct that magically kicked in.

It was uncommon for infected to be nearby town. In fact, it was very rare. There were constant patrols during the day within a three mile radius of town, infected were found and put down quickly. The guns were still another layer of protection, if Ellie was further from town there was a chance you would need them. You were still completely on edge, Dina was too. Being outside of Jackson was the last thing you wanted to do again, yet here you are, not even a day later.

You wondered why Ellie would leave without saying anything, especially to Dina. They were as thick as thieves, they really cared about each other, no wonder Dina was nervous. Ellie was upset when she came back with Joel the other day, maybe she just needed to clear her head. But sneaking out? That was uncalled for. There were quiet places in Jackson she could have gone to.

The top of the lake house came into view as you reached the peak of a hill. There was a small fire by the far side of the lake, next to the house. The lake house was not technically a house, and more like a mansion. It was a popular spot to sneak out to, considering it was one of the few places out of town that had electricity and wasn’t completely abandoned. Occasionally, Maria let people visit the lake every summer as a reward for their hard work.. though patrollers (once yourself included) liked to stop at the lake if they got back early.

“Think that’s her?” You pointed out towards the fire at the side of the lake. Dina nodded next to you. You were glad you didn’t have to walk fourty minutes to get to the art museum or ski resort, both being in opposite directions of one another. Unless.. that wasn’t Ellie. It could easily be hunters, but hunters liked to hide. They wouldn’t be out in the open though. The last time you came across a group of people it had gone worse than you could have ever imagined, you pushed that thought to the side.

The lake was mysterious looking, it’s dark waters glistening in the moonlight like it held many secrets. Three months ago, you stood here in the heat of summer, your shirt sticking to your back, waiting to jump into the water and pop open a can from a six pack, the sun beating down on the water making it shine brightly. But now it just looked cold and dark, yet not unwelcoming. Now the fall air was crisp, the leaves dark and crunch under your feet, your breath lingering in the air visibly.

You led Dina down the path to the dock, from there you would be able to get a better look at the people at the bonfire. It looked like a group, seven or so people. You stuck to the trees until the plants growing in the water were tall enough to shield you. You could hear loud laughter, whoever these people were, they weren’t particularly subtle. You figured it was most likely Ellie and a group of other rebellious teens.

“That them?” You said gruffly, peeking out from behind the plants, hearing the waves lap at the shore.

“Yeah, yeah, I think so,” Dina mumbled, staring at the group by the lake. You couldn’t make out faces, but they looked like teenagers.

“Recognize any of them?”

“I can’t see much. It looks like a party though.” There were cans littered around the fire, at least from what you could see.

“It’s probably them then, come on, let’s go,” You said motioning for her to get up with you. Dina pulled herself up next to you, following you on the path to their bonfire. If they were drunk, you doubt they would notice you until you were right on top of them. Stupid kids.

As you got closer you could hear bits and pieces of their conversation, they definitely sounded like teenagers.

“Why do you think Ellie didn’t tell you?” You whispered.

“I don’t know, she could be with Cat.”

You wrapped around the group by taking the path into the woods so you could ‘sneak’ up on them in case they weren't who you thought they were. If you were quiet enough, they wouldn’t notice you until you were right on top of them.

As you got closer, Dina recognized them. She began walking faster to the group, louder too. She went far ahead of you. They noticed immediately.

“What the fuck was that?” You heard one of them whisper-yell. They all began looking around. There was no Ellie or Cat in sight.

You had to lightly jog to catch up with her as Dina made it out in the open.

“Dina? What the hell are you doing out here?” One of them asked, they all stood up. You recognized them, you didn’t know their names, having only seen them in passing.

“Do you guys know where Ellie is?” She asked, her voice slightly harsh.

You caught up with her, walking out in the open to meet her. The group stiffened, they kicked their beer cans to the side and one even hid her joint behind her back, you could still see the smoke, and there was no doubt most of them were faded. The smell gave that away.

“Uh yeah. She’s in the lake house with Cat,” The one who had the not-so-hidden-blunt said. You squinted at the lake house and saw that there were lights on in one of the bedrooms.

Dina glared at the house and lightly scoffed.

“Thanks. Don’t get too drunk tonight, be back before sunrise too,” Dina said dismissively, already marching her way up to the lake. The group behind you relaxed, already getting back to their teenage binge.

You kept a careful eye on Dina, jealousy bubbling underneath her. She knew that she shouldn’t feel that way with Ellie, especially considering she was off and on with Jesse.. at least right now she was. It felt wrong to be in love with her best friend, yet she also liked Jesse too. She was always jealous of Cat.. Cat wasn’t good for Ellie, anyone with a pair of eyes could see that.

“Were those your friends?” You asked her as you made your way up to the lake house, glancing behind you at the bonfire.

“Cat’s,” She replied plainly.

You remained silent for the rest of the way as you made it into the house. You remembered the last time you were here.. the party, with Mark. You had put Mark’s dog tags on, you could feel them lightly jingle each time you took a step. His necklace left a feeling of comfort in you, even though you had banished the thought of him for months, now here you were wearing his dog tags like everything was fine. Maybe it was, or was on its way to be. The only thing on your mind tonight was returning Ellie safe and sound to Jackson, not having a baby, not rebuilding your relationship with people you had neglected, not coming to terms with Mark’s death, only Ellie.

The lake house was very open, every room seemingly sprawling with dark wood accents and a winding staircase that led up to the upper floor. People mostly stayed (and partied) on the first floor, but the upstairs wasn’t completely off limits.

Dina walked swiftly up the stairs, her brow furrowed in anger. You tried your best to keep up with her.

“Ellie?” She shouted, you followed her. As you made it to the top of the steps, you heard rustling in one of the rooms.

“Just, stay there!” Cat called out, Dina didn’t listen. She found the room they were in and barged in.

Both Ellie and Cat covered themselves up quickly, you rolled your eyes and turned away. They were blushing madly and Dina glared at the two.

“Really? What the hell is wrong with you? Sneaking out, not telling me where you were going?” Dina jabbed, placing her hands on her hips.

“Ellie’s not your responsibility, you don’t have to know where she is all the time,” Cat hurled back. Ellie shot her a look.

“She’s my best friend. I think I have a right to care about her and make sure she’s safe.”

“Will you two shut up please? Stop talking about me like I’m not here,” Ellie said angrily, pulling her shirt on. You stayed outside the room, leaning against the wall.

“Come on, get your stuff. We’re going back to town,” Dina said to Ellie.

“She’s not going anywhere,” Cat challenged.

“Oh yes she is. It’s late and Ellie’s very obviously drunk.” You couldn’t see inside the room, but you were sure there was alcohol in there.

You decided to split up the fight before it got any worse. As soon as you popped up behind Dina, Ellie immediately looked at you in confusion. You weren’t who she was expecting.

“We do have to leave, Ellie. It’s late. If Joel or Maria finds out that you snuck out, they won’t be happy,” You persuaded. Ellie looked very drunk, her face was pink and she didn’t look totally in the present. Cat was the same too, but a lot more angry.

Ellie looked over at Cat, sighing before she spoke. “It is late.. I’m sorry, I have to go back, Joel gets up in a few hours.”

Cat scoffed before rolling her eyes, “Fine. Just go. I’m staying.”

Ellie retrieved her things from the room, pulling on the rest of her clothes while you walked back into the hall.

“Is Cat always like this?” You asked Dina quietly, glancing over your shoulder to the room. You could hear them arguing.

“No.. I think she’s just angry, I interrupted her and Ellie. Cat and I have never really gotten along, but it’s never been like this,” Dina shook her head.

Ellie came out of the room, shame burning in her. You all began walking towards the staircase before Ellie began. The silence was thick and awkward.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize how late it got.”

“You could have told me where you were going, Ellie,” Dina replied softly, both averting each other's gaze.

“I know, I’m sorry.”

You didn’t interrupt them, you were just there as the chaperone. It wasn’t your place to judge either. Ellie needed a scolding.. but you weren’t the person to give her one at that time. You would need to repair your relationship with her first before you would be in any position to tell her off.

You were relieved that Ellie was safe and just lost track of time, you hoped she wouldn’t have too bad of a hangover in the morning. Considering how she stumbled occasionally and looked not so stable on her feet, you sure that she would atleast feel something in the morning.

You were damn tired, and you had work in the morning too. You just wanted to rest.

“Ellie!” Someone shouted angrily from below you, startling all of you.

“Holy shit. Maria?” Ellie cursed, her eyes widening. You looked over the railing to the lower floor.

Maria was there, and she was not happy.

•••

[darlingpetao3]

The Conference (Harry Wells x Reader)

Rating: M (Smut)

Summary: As his personal assistant, you accompany Harrison to a Science and Technology conference in Star City. You’re great at your job, though sometimes it can be difficult seeing as you’re attracted to your boss, no matter how much you try to repress your feelings. But when a series of mishaps occur while at the conference, you can’t help but fall harder for Harrison. Does he feel the same way? The world certainly starts to believe so...

A/N: Okay, so this seriously might just be one of my favourite things I’ve done in a long time. I had so much I wanted to do with this story, so it’s ended up with a word count of 5,631. I’m imagining this taking place on Earth-2 before Harry met Team Flash. I really hope you all enjoy this!

Tag List: @blogforhoes​

It’s been a few years since Star City has held its world-renowned Science and Technology Association Rendezvous conference (you think someone had to stretch to make the conference coincide with the theme of the city), but that time has returned. In fact, that’s where you’re headed now from the airport - to the hotel where the conference is to be held, luggage in tow.

Your fingers fly across your phone as you handle a few more work emails in the town car you’re sharing with your boss. You try not to look anywhere else because you feel the eyes of Harrison Wells watching you. Yes, working as the world’s-greatest-mind’s personal assistant can be intimidating, but that’s not the reason you’re mentally jittery.

It didn’t necessarily start out this way - having a deadly liability of a crush on the man - but it happened regardless. Spending the amount of time you do with Harrison Wells was bound to show his true nature. Not the front he puts up for his other employees, or the other one he hides behind while speaking to adoring and captivated crowds. You know the real Harrison Wells, even though you’re positive he would deny it until the end of his days.

“You should put that away,” he says eventually, making you look up now. “Enjoy yourself a bit while you’re here.”

“But then I wouldn’t be doing my job,” you counter, “a job you pay me to do.”

“Do you want me to pay you not to do your job?”

Why does this sound vaguely like flirting? You need to not imagine these kinds of things because that road will only lead to getting fired.

You sigh. “Okay, I promise not to work so much this weekend. But if for some reason your schedule gets screwed up, or you aren’t informed on some major deal, it’s not my fault.”

Harrison hums. “Duly noted.”

The car soon pulls up to the lobby doors of the Starling Grand Hotel. The driver helps you both with your luggage and point you in the direction of the front desk. On your short trek into the hotel, there are a series of camera flashes and shouts of “Harrison!” and “Doctor Wells, over here!”

The pair of you keep walking, but the man of the hour gives a polite wave. You think you’d be used to working for a celebrity of technology, but it has never gone away. At least you manage to keep it professional on the outside.

Once at the reception desk, you tell the hotel employee your name to confirm your reservation, only to receive a strange look from the person.

“I’m sorry, we had a system failure the other day, and I must inform you that your reservation has been reduced to one room for the two nights.”

“Excuse me?” you ask, feeling a ferocious fire igniting in your blood. Definitely because Harrison does not deserve to be reduced to anything and not because you’d now be sharing a room with Harrison Wells, supreme crush number one.

“We apologize, truly, but there are no other rooms available at this time, what with the conference happening this weekend.”

Um, DUH, that’s why we’re here!

“But we’ve included a few extra favours on us in your room as a-”

“-I’m sorry, but do you know who this is?” You gesture to your boss behind you, who appears calm, cool, and collected through this whole debacle. “THIS IS HARRISON FREAKING WELLS!” you shout. “He deserves his own freaking room!”

Harrison’s hand finds your shoulder.

“(Y/N), it’s okay,” he says. “It’s okay, really.” Harrison takes the room key from the employee, offering her a kind and apologetic smile. “Thank you.”

He guides you away from the desk to the elevators with a hand on your back all the way there. While you’d think an action such as this from your boss would cause a fiery hole to rupture through your entire body, it actually calms you instead. It’s like his touch has extinguished the flame of rage you had felt mere moments ago.

Neither of you utters a word until the elevator doors close. The corner of Harrison’s lip tugs upwards slightly.

“Go on,” you tell him, “say it.”

“You’re very passionate.”

“I just believe a man of your stature should have his own damn hotel room. At the very least.”

“So, it has nothing to do with sharing a hotel room with your direct superior?” he teases. You pull out your phone to scroll on as a distraction.

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I never have, nor do I ever plan to be ridiculous.”

The elevator dings once you reach your floor. Harrison motions with a hand to allow you to leave first. You hike up the strap of your bag on your shoulder and head out to find your shared room.

It’ll be fine, it’s fine — All fine.

Alright, 1545, here we are.

You unlock the door with the key card, hearing the click. But as you push the door open, you drop your bag, and subsequently, your jaw.

Not fine, not fine, not fine.

Harrison tries to move past you, but accidentally trips on the handle of your bag and topples over, hitting his stomach to the floor with an “oof”!

He squints ahead.

“Is that… one bed?” he wonders aloud.

“Yup.”

Harrison gets up, immediately looking from the bed to you. He probably senses your unease, but you seriously hope he doesn’t catch on as to why. Sleeping in the same bed as the man you work for and have a huge thing for? You’d fantasized about such a situation before, just not like this and not so abruptly.

“I’ll go talk to the front desk,” he assures you. “If there’s nothing we can do, we’ll go somewhere else.”

“No, you know what?” you say at last. “We’re adults here, right? It will only be a big deal if we make it that way. It’s just sleep.”

Harrison nods slowly, his Adam’s apple bobs. “You make a fair point.”

“Besides, you don’t have much time before your keynote address tonight. It would be best to start getting settled and ready here.”

His smile at your practicality makes your heart flutter.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he says. You toss your bag into the chair in the corner.

“I don’t know either, Sir. Dibs on the right side.”

***

It took a little while to figure out who would use the bathroom to get ready first, and of course there were moments of awkwardness. You never knew how ga-ga you would get when you watched Harrison pop out his shirt collar, tie his tie, and straighten his cuffs.

Those small actions shouldn’t make you want to jump him then and there, and yet here you are with these feelings a PA shouldn’t have for their boss.

You decide to wear your slimming black dress for tonight’s keynote address. And no, it’s not because Harrison loves black, you tell yourself. It’s because it’s classy and sophisticated, and you’ll blend right into the background.

When you step out of the bathroom, all ready to face the crowds, Harrison looks up and immediately drops his phone at the sight of you.

“Are you… all set?” you ask him. Harrison retrieves his phone and straightens himself.

“Yeah. Yeah, I am… You look-”

“-And you.”

There’s a beat of more awkwardness. You tuck a fallen strand of hair behind your ear.

“Right, so, shall we…?” you say.

“Yup, yes, let’s,” he agrees.

You never expected to essentially be Harrison’s bodyguard as well this weekend. Nearly every person you meet along the way to the auditorium wants to talk to him, ask him a question, want a piece of him. Yeah, well, get in line. You quite literally need to hold them back so that he’ll get to the stage on time. It would not look good if this man was late to the kick-off of the whole conference weekend.

But alas, the two of you make it with a few minutes to spare. On stage right, you make sure his suit has no wrinkles, no stains, hair is perfect — all in a day's work.

“My speech…” Harrison mumbles, patting his chest and checking his pockets. “I had it… here? Where…”

He’s so cute when he gets like this, you dare to let the thought flicker in your mind. You whip out the piece of paper and show it to him. The man of the hour exhales in relief.

“What would I-?”

“-Do without me?” You grin, loving whenever he brings this up, and hand him the speech. Your fingers brush momentarily, and you clear your throat instead of the squeak-whine that wanted to come out. What is with me today? “Now go on, get out there and give those people a keynote to remember.”

Harrison lingers a moment before shaking the paper gently in his grasp. His eyes twinkle with thanks before stepping out into the spotlight. You inch as close as you can to the side of the stage and watch behind the curtain. Applause erupts from the auditorium - an ocean of onlookers, cameras, and lights.

And there’s that smile.

It’s times like these that you can selfishly admire Harrison in his element, talking about what brings him the greatest of joys. You’re glad of the suit he chose for this event - a classic midnight-black suit with a crisp white shirt. It’s subtle and powerful and perfectly Harrison.

“Good evening, fellow colleagues,” he greets the room. “For those of you who don’t know me, my name is Harrison Wells, and it is a great honour to have been asked to speak tonight.”

More cheers.

“Additionally, it is an equally great honour to be in this room with all of you, for each of you have the drive and dreams to create a better future for the world. And with your help, I believe the future will be here faster than you think.”

That’s it.

There’s no denying it.

You really are falling in love with your boss.

***

You and Harrison stand beside one another, shoulder to shoulder in your pyjamas, staring straight down at the damn hotel bed. He wears an aged heather-grey Central City University T-shirt and black sweatpants and it’s almost too much for you. Seeing the man in an expensively tailored suit is one thing, but having to witness Harrison Wells in casual clothing - the kind he sleeps in…

Somebody save me.

You feel utterly self-conscious in your lacy sleepwear, which is all you brought for the trip. It was a recent purchase, of the “treat yourself” variety, and no one was actually supposed to see you in it. Let alone your boss.

Harrison clears his throat. “Should we go to bed? I mean sleep. Should we go to sleep?” His face burns red, undoubtedly at the humiliation of having to sleep in the same direct vicinity as a subordinate. Oh, the horror.

You turn towards the man, but don’t look him in the eye.

“Probably for the best, yeah.”

The two of you pull back the blanket and get under it together, albeit at a “safe” distance from each other.

“Well… goodnight,” Harrison says to you, his face staring straight up at the ceiling.

“Goodnight,” you whisper, also finding the ceiling highly intriguing.

This was going to be a long night.

***

Something feels… different.

It’s like there’s an extra weight on your pillow-?

Holy Lord.

It would seem that Harrison, in his sleep, has moved over to your side of the bed. Your heads now share the same pillow. The smell of purely him overtakes your senses. His breath warms your ear. He is so incredibly close to you right now that you can feel him inhaling and exhaling, his chest rising and falling.

Is that his heartbeat or yours?

You may be going into cardiac arrest.

Ever so carefully, you turn your head the tiniest bit to see him sleeping peacefully like an angel. Your heart races like it never has before in your entire life. It's like it's going to burst out of your chest and run out of the room screaming. And your breathing! You think you seriously do need CPR. Your breaths are horribly uneven and hitched and are impossible to control and your worst fear at this moment is Harrison waking up to find you in this awful and embarrassing state.

How could I ever explain to him that this freak-out is all his fault because he was basically spooning me without even knowing it?

You somehow manage to drift off a little while after your near heart-attack until you later feel something nudge your leg.

Oh for goodness sake, it's his leg.

And how is it possible that your bodies seem even closer? God, I can't run away from my feelings for him if I tried, can I?

So naturally, now your leg decides that it wants to start hurting. It's going numb. Am I sleeping on it weird? You don't know anymore. What is up with your entire body trying to attack and hurt you tonight? 

You think that if you move your leg or your body at all right now, Harrison will wake up, see this position you’re both in and distance himself from you. And as much as your love/hate relationship with this closeness is, you don't want him to…

Ultimately, though, you can't handle the numbness in your leg, so you’re going to have to opt-out for a more comfortable sleeping position. You turn insanely slowly on your side, now facing the bathroom and your back to your boss.

Oh shit, he’s stirring.

And then it happens.

His hand finds your hip.

But only for seven glorious seconds.

You feel Harrison freeze and retract his hand. It’s almost as if you can see him through the back of your head - him assessing the situation and pulling back. He moves over - far, far away and back to his side of the bed.

The other side of the universe.

***

After Harrison spent the rest of the night on his side of the bed, you somehow managed to settle down and got your heart rate to return to a relatively normal state.

Presently, you work on your hair near the mirror by the hotel desk. Harrison walks past you. Neither of you has said much to each other this morning. You don’t want to bring up the incident. Clearly, he doesn’t either.

“Sleep well?” he asks.

Ha! I almost died in my sleep!

“Yes, thanks,” you reply instead. “You?”

“Yeah, good.” He clears his throat and shuffles towards the door. His hair is sticking up at all ends and you wish you had something to do with that look, but alas, you had no part in it. He wanders back with the newspaper that had been placed outside the room. He freezes in place.

“What?” you ask, frowning.

He hesitates. “Nothing,” Harrison claims but then throws the paper in the recycling. “I’m going to get ready. Long day today.”

As soon as Harrison grabs his necessities and retreats to the bathroom, you rush over to retrieve the newspaper to see what threw him off. After un-crinkling The Star City Star (honestly, this city…) you read the headline:

Is Central City’s Doctor Harrison Wells Dating His Personal Assistant?

“WHAT?” you whisper-shout. Your eyes scan below at the write-up where the author speculates further on whether you and your boss are secretly dating. There are two photos beside the article, too - black and white, zoomed-in images. The first is the moment when Harrison’s fingers touched yours when you passed him the speech backstage. The way you two are looking at each other… Is that how it really looks? If it weren’t you in this picture, you would believe these two were dating for sure.

The second photo beside the first is zoomed-in on you. Only you. You’re standing at the side of the stage, looking on as Harrison delivers his speech. There’s no visible doctoring of the photo, so you know that’s genuinely how you appeared last night: giving the scientist enormous heart eyes. It’s so plainly evident in your photographed face how you feel about him. And now all of Star City knows.

You pause.

Harrison saw this.

He chucked this newspaper in the bin and retreated without a further word on the matter.

You think you might be sick.

***

It took a little longer than you’d plan to get ready, but seeing as there were two of you, you should have factored that into the schedule. You rush out into the corridor when Harrison says, “You’re a little…”

“What?” you look down at yourself to find your shirt is not fully tucked into your skirt. “Oh, thanks.” Harrison closes the room’s door while you adjust accordingly.

Just a short way down the corridor, you hear whispering. Looking up, you see a woman saying something to a man in a hushed voice. They scurry into the elevator.

That… can’t be good.

Imagine how this looks - catching a woman adjusting herself after stepping out of the same hotel room as Central City’s hottest commodity.

You draw breath to remain calm and push the worry down.

“Alright, let’s go.”

***

Harrison is on his phone while he waits for the panel to start, but after not even a minute, he quickly puts it away. He then holds out his hand to you. “Hand me your phone.”

“Why?”

“I’m making sure you don’t work too much while you’re here. Take it all in and what have you.”

You sigh, half-wondering why he’s brought you along if you’re not meant to be doing your job. Oh well. Maybe it'll be fun without your phone?

“Boss’ orders,” you concede. Relinquishing your phone to Harrison brings a smile to his face. Eventually, you leave him to speak amongst the rest of the panel and stand at the back of the room. This is much farther away from the cameras and journalists, who are trying to move as close as they can to the table to capture the perfect shots of Harrison and his fellow innovators on this panel.

Wells, McGee, Stein, Palmer, Smoak, and Brand.

Needless to say, the room was packed.

Afterwards, you usher Harrison out the side exit of the room instead of the main entryway. It was blocked up with conference-goers. There would be no way out otherwise.

Lunch is next on the schedule, thank God. You barely had anything to eat after leaving the hotel room, so you are ready to stuff your face.

Daintily, obviously. You save the savage-eating for the comfort of your own home.

The conference coordinators hired the best catering service, in your opinion. You would literally lick your plate if you were not continuously stared at for being in the constant presence of Harrison Wells. During the lunch hour, several people had come up to the man himself, whether they be fans, old colleagues, or people searching for funding, just for a moment of his time and attention. And while this happens quite a lot generally, for some reason it irks you today.

Why can’t they just leave him alone?

And then- why can’t I just have him to myself?

You quickly bury that thought away.

As the time gets closer to Harrison’s scheduled board meeting, you have to figuratively fight off the hoards of people to get him there on time, not without a series of frowns and scowls from them. Screw them. I’ve got a job to do.

Harrison graciously thanks everyone in passing and mentions how he hopes to hear from them again. When you finally reach the designated meeting room, you stop and say to him, “I can’t help but feel I’m the Bad Cop and you’re the Good Cop, here.”

“Someone has to be.” He laughs a little, and you find it contagious. You meet his eyes for a brief moment, but break the contact, letting your eyes fall to his chest.

“Oh dear.” You reach into your bag.

“What is it?” he asks. You show him your handy-dandy detergent-to-go stick.

“You have a little…” Instantly, you begin to dab and swirl the applicator to the small stain on his white shirt around his right pectoral area. Your free hand rests flat against his left. He’s so fit underneath these clothes, though you’ve never actually seen proof of it. Not even after sharing that room last night.

The entire time, Harrison watches you - watches your hand make the mark vanish from the fabric. He is silent, save for his breathing, which you can also feel as his chest moves up and down under your hands.

“There,” you say weakly.

“Thank you,” he replies quietly.

You’re still touching him, and once you register this, you take your hands off of him like you’ve been burned.

“Have a good meeting. I’ll meet you back here when it’s over.”

“Thank you, great, yes.”

“Okay.”

“Alright.”

You take your leave, daring not to look back, no matter how much you want to. It isn’t until you make it into the lobby that you realize your boss still has your phone in his pocket.

Welp.

***

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” you apologize breathlessly while running towards Harrison in your bare feet with your heels in your hand.

He stands outside the meeting room doors. His eyes are wide and round upon seeing you, and that may be a smile tugging at his lips, but it’s hard to tell at the speed you’re rushing.

“I lost track of time, and you still have my-”

He shows your phone to you.

“Yeah, that.”

After a short moment of catching your breath, you slip on your first heel, but the second proves more difficult in your tiredness. You just about fall over.

“Here, let me help,” he offers—what a gentleman. You balance on your one heeled shoe, with assistance from his wonderful, wonderful arms as you slip on your other one. You think his arm flexes when you clutch onto it.

“Whoa,” he says as you wobble a bit, but he has you.

And boy, does he have you.

“You okay?”

“Mmhmm,” you hum and nod, not trusting your words. “We better head back to the room if we want to get ready for the banquet.”

He hands you your phone.

“Then, by all means, (Y/N), lead the way.”

***

You seriously need to stop thinking about how he said your name.

It was like a near-whisper. Like a secret. A secret you could try to decipher for hours, months, years, and never learn the true meaning because that was the enigma that is Harrison Wells.

Once back in the hotel room, you pull out your phone, at last, to catch up on what you’ve missed today.

Emails regarding in-development contracts.

Requests for funding.

Meetings to coordinate with Harrison’s schedule.

Junk, spam, email forwards, more junk.

And…

What.

The.

Actual.

F-

You make a noise similar to one you might make if you were drowning. In your inbox are a series of emails featuring various blog posts sent from familiar names within the company. All of these posts have one thing in common.

The speculative nature of whether you and Harrison Wells are an item.

Candid photos, inside scoop, rumours and catty gossip, there’s so much of it!

Pictures of you and him at lunch, you removing his stain, even him helping you in your heels not that long ago! What the hell? Who are these super spies?

There’s even an adamant blog poster insisting you’re sleeping with him because she claimed to have caught the two of you leaving the same hotel room and fixing your…

Oh God. This is bad.

Harrison turns around to you, now noticing that you’ve been incredibly silent and haven’t moved from your spot. His tie is significantly loosened, and it is not helping.

“Is something wrong? Is it the company?” he asks you. “Did someone blow up another prototype of the-”

You shove your phone in his face and look away. This cannot be happening. You just want to disintegrate out of humiliation.

“Well, then…” is all he has to say. He loosens his tie a bit more. “This is…”

“This is ludicrous, that’s what it is!” You start to feel the sheer indignation rise within you, for the both of you. “I’ll have every one of them all take these posts down, I promise. I am so sorry this is happening. People apparently have nothing better to do with their lives.”

“It’s fine, (Y/N), you know it’s not your fault,” Harrison says, calmer than you’d ever have expected. 

“I know, but it’s just still so wrong, all these lies.”

There’s a pause.

“...What if it were true?” he asks.

“What?”

“What if it were true?” he repeats, shifting in place and massaging the back of his neck. “You and I? Would that be something you’d be interested in? With me?”

He did not just ask that.

Did he?

“I- I mean, we can’t,” you fumble for what to say. “Even if I wanted to- if we wanted… I work for you.”

Harrison takes an unexpected large step forward. “Forget that for a second. Have you ever wanted this? Do you currently want this?” He gestures between you both. You swallow hard, bracing yourself.

“I do, yes,” you confess. Harrison smiles and moves yet another step closer. “But it’s not professional. You, Harrison Wells, cannot date your personal assistant, no matter how much I...”

Oxygen has stopped circulating to your lungs. Time is suspended. The man looms over you, biting his lip to keep from smiling too much.

“Then you’re fired,” he says, only before taking your cheek in his hand and pressing his soft and smooth lips your yours.

Angels sing in a chorus, you’re convinced.

Harrison pulls away to examine your reaction, carefully taking in your fluttering lashes and still-puckered lips.

“You’re rehired,” he tells you, seriously.

You barely get the words “I quit” out before you’ve attacked his mouth again, officially throwing care to the wind. You’re desperate to feel those lips again, they’re like your dreams, repressed or otherwise, come true. His hands grip your waist to hold you close to him, while your own lock around his neck.

Now it’s you who pulls back.

“Can I have my job back?”

“Not yet.”

Harrison spins you ninety degrees and presses you against the wall. A gasp leaves your throat, followed by a profoundly pleased noise of pleasure. Harrison’s hands wander from their caress of your cheeks, down your sides, brushing against your breasts as they do. His mouth does some wandering of its own - venturing down to the side of your neck.

“I can’t believe this is actually happening…” you say breathlessly to the spackled ceiling, feeling each nip of his lips on your burning skin. Every part of your body is on fire. Your lips, your limbs, your blood.

At your words, Harrison stops and searches your eyes.

“I need you to be clear with me if you want this to continue,” he says, “if not-”

“-Please, please, for the love of God, Harrison, continue.”

Impatience and desperate heat take hold of your actions. You start to undo the buttons on his shirt. When he slips it down his arms, you swallow the gasp that almost squeaked past your lips.

His. Arms. 

You’ve never seen your boss’ arms like this - completely bare and muscular and perfectly toned. These arms held you up earlier, and now you can’t help but imagine them holding you in the throes of passion.

And you may find this out very soon...

With one swift movement, Harrison has his undershirt off in no time at all and it’s kind of a miracle you haven’t collapsed to the ground. Is your mouth open? Probably. He hides that body under those suits? What a shame to keep it hidden… but then again, you’re glad. You get to see it now. Just you.

Your fingers trace the lines of his stomach muscles, captivated. You follow the lines down until they disappear under his black slacks.

But he interrupts your tracings when he starts to take off your shirt. This time, you’re ecstatic at it being untucked from your skirt. You shimmy out of that too. All these clothes are starting to become a real pain. A nuisance. A hindrance.

You’re now concerned with his black trousers still on him, belt and all. Your fingers automatically show him their keen interest and begin to unbuckle his belt, the sound of the metal clanging is music to your ears. You exhale shakily at the sight of him growing more erect before your very eyes.

You can’t help but chuckle, “We’re going to be late for the banquet dinner.”

Harrison stares at you with lust-filled, black eyes, staring you down in your bra and panties.

“Fuck the banquet dinner.”

He leads you towards the bed - the bed that had initially been your enemy. Now it’s your friend. The scientist lowers you down to your back, all the while crawling with you back up towards the pillows. Harrison hovers over you, scanning every part of you, downloading every curve and dip and line of your body. He plants a kiss to your stomach.

“So beautiful,” he breathes, working his way up with his lips, “I’ve wanted this for a long time.”

“Me too,” you squeak. “But there’s just one thing…”

Harrison lifts his head from the valley of your breasts and raises an eyebrow. “What’s that?”

“You’re going the wrong way.”

It takes a second for him to understand.

The corners of his lips curl up when he does, and snakes back down your body, peppering kisses all the way.

“I’ve dreamt about this, you know,” you divulge, suddenly realizing that someone having witchcraft in their lips is a real concept. These special people make you spill your secrets.

“Is that so?”

Harrison’s slender fingers slowly pull your panties down your legs and discard them to the floor. You nod vigorously the closer his face moves forward to your wet heat. His tongue darts out to wet his lips. You swallow.

“What a coincidence,” he says, “I’ve imagined this in my head about a hundred times.”

His breath on you has you in a hot sweat.

“Only a hundred?” you hear yourself say. Harrison responds by licking a stripe upwards. Your legs tense and you let your head hit the pillow. He grips your hips and pulls you closer to his mouth. It’s wild - the same mouth that is so eloquent in delivering speeches to hundreds of people is equally talented in what it’s doing to you right now.

Kisses, licks, swirls, and dives.

You are utterly at this man’s mercy.

You always have been.

“More,” you tell him, as a general plea. Just more of everything. All of it. “More. Don’t stop.”

He hums his reply, face buried deep.

It’s encroaching quickly on you - your climax. Your hand finds his hair, soft and silky and now perfectly ruined by your desperate fingers. Simultaneously, you grind your hips up to his mouth and hold his head to you. He’s devouring you until there will be absolutely nothing left of you.

You hit your peak, and you’re falling. Falling hard.

In a couple different ways.

***

It’s the middle of the night, or rather the early-early morning.  After a night of much lovemaking, you lay there in bed, pressed against Harrison with your hand on his chest, which has only just returned to its regular rise and fall. You trace random lines on his skin. He holds you with a sort of protectiveness. You never want him to let go.

“A bit too late for that dinner, huh?” you say.

Harrison’s laugh vibrates through you and sends a shiver down your spine. Those good kinds of shivers. “We could order something,” he suggests.

“It’s three in the morning.”

“It’ll be no problem,” he assures you.

“Actually, there is a problem,” you mention.

“Which would be…?”

“I don’t ever want to move.” This moment is just so perfect that either one of you moving feels as if it would shatter it. “I don’t think I can, anyway,” you add playfully. That earns you another laugh. Harrison takes your hand in his to rest on his stomach.

“So… I’m just wondering. What does this mean for us now?” you dare to ask the big, mountainous question. “I can’t work for you if this is going to continue, you know.”

“I know,” he says quietly. “Which is quite terrible, really, because you are the best assistant I’ve ever had.” It’s your turn to giggle. “I’m sorry,” Harrison continues. You look at him straight on.

“Why are you sorry?”

“Because you’re now out of a job and I’m to blame.”

“Trust me, it’s not just you. It takes two to do the horizontal tango. And besides, I couldn’t be an assistant for the rest of my life anyway. No matter how perfectly amazing my boss is. I’ll find something else. Something I love to do.”

“That’s what I love about you-” he stops dead in his sentence. His hand tenses around yours at his confession. You can’t believe his words.

“Did you really just…?” you ask, needing to know for sure if you did hear that word correctly.

“I apologize, (Y/N), I know it’s probably-” You stop Harrison from his unnecessary apology with a deep kiss and crawl on top of him to straddle him. His hand runs up your back and down again. “Firing you was the best thing I ever did,” he sighs.

“And quitting was mine.”

~

A/N2: I have to disclose that the ‘you’re hired/rehired etc’ moment is actually taken from my favourite Ed episode (S03E17 “Captain Lucidity”). I just felt like it was so incredibly perfect (both in general and for this story) and I swoon every time at that scene. But yes, I did take a page straight out of Rob Burnett and Jon Beckerman’s book with that one. Those damn geniuses.

Anon Request: Hi i think I can still request so.. Harry and reader(his PA/ a scientist at star labs) go to a science conference thing out of town. they have to spend the night at the same hotel room ( maybe busy days so rooms are already occupied or something). Things get.. spicy between them. Both ends up in a relationship(optinal). Smut! AND I LOVE YOUR WORKS!!!

[losille2000]

Mister America, Prologue: Massachusetts

CHAPTER NUMBER: 1/? CHARACTERS: President!Chris Evans/OFC (see notes) GENRE: Romance/Drama FIC SUMMARY: After a massive social media write-in campaign organized by others, Chris finds himself thrust into a spotlight that he is unprepared to handle. His campaign managers suggest that a political marriage might help him weather the storm and help his image during the campaign... just so long as it isn’t the one woman Chris really wants. RATING: M  WARNINGS:  Nothing. AUTHORS NOTES: This story is AU in the fact that this is the 2020 presidential race, and Chris is a candidate. But everything in the past is still the same with him being an actor. Also, COVID-19 is not a part of this story. I needed to play in a land where COVID didn’t exist and “Captain America,” in his alter ego, punched out a Nazi in a metaphorical(?) way. For more on the story, go here.

This first part is prologue-y.

I have also curated a soundtrack for all 50 states, and then some. You can listen on Spotify right now, may eventually put it on Youtube. There will be 50 chapters (I’m hoping), but many of them will be shorter.

Also on AO3!

Boston, MA Evans for President Campaign Headquarters November 3rd, 2020 30 Minutes Before First Polls Close

Stage fright is no joke.

When it hits, it hits like a semi truck going seventy on an icy Massachusetts road. In the blink of an eye, you’re completely obliterated. Except this is on stage and you’re not dead, even though you wish you were. In fact, you’re very much alive. Alive enough to feel the force of the impact, followed by the squeezing in your chest and choking on your breathless words. Paralysis takes over. Cold clammy sweat slicks your palms and also trickles down your back to that one spot between your shoulder blades you can’t reach, but causes your costume to uncomfortably stick to your skin.

There’s no escape. You know what’s coming. You worry you’ll forget your lines, or trip on your cue, or make a complete and utter fool of yourself. You feel like an imposter, questioning why you’re here, in this role, when that dude, JD, from your acting class years ago was a million times more talented than you, and you’re the one that got that teen movie deal.  You’re the one who became one of America's most beloved superheroes for a decade.

You’re also the one who has a very real chance of winning the 2020 presidential election, despite no college education, limited understanding of what elected officials in DC actually do on a day to day basis, and the closest thing you have to experience as a “boss” or “commander in chief” of anything was a movie set or two where you were director and executive producer. 

Nope.

What I, Chris Evans, have is a dedicated online fan base who took the time to write my name into ballots when they discovered I had filed for ballot access in every state of the union. I didn’t do the filing on a whim; we sat around late one night talking about the interviews I had been conducting in DC for a website about party positions on important issues. My business partners and I came up with the idea that a long form documentary about campaigning would be interesting, and we determined the best way to understand the process was to become a “candidate” myself. Meaning, we only planned to use the credentials to be on the front line of the campaigning process. I was never going to create signs and make speeches or debate with others.

I never intended to run a legitimate campaign.

But, as I mentioned, something strange happened during the Democratic primaries. People started to vote for me, a trickle of rain in a hurricane.

I won a few primary delegates.

Without even trying.

Not enough to win the Democratic ticket, but enough to make pollsters sit up and take notice.

My loyal fans stepped in again, undaunted, and ignited a storm. They dubbed it “Operation America’s Ass” and created a grassroots campaign across the country with GoFundMe donations and a lot of pluck. I thought it was a joke. A part of me still does think it’s a joke. I mean, what other explanation is there for this mess? For the red, white and blue bunting hanging on the walls with the “Chris Evans for President” sign plastered underneath it? For the staffers who stop briefly to see if I need anything...‘Would you like a drink, sir?’... or, upon seeing how pale I look, give me a vote of confidence… ‘Are you ready for your acceptance speech?’ There’s absolutely no good explanation as to why there are twenty or thirty people buzzing around the hotel suite waiting for results. They’re so energized with hope for a better future.

Hope that I can be everything they ever wanted in a president.

An Independent president, free from party oversight.

A president with class.

A president for the people.

A president who can bring the United States back from the brink of destruction at the hands of previous leaders.

I wish I had their confidence.

When they asked me on career day in school what I wanted to be when I grew up, I always said artist. When I was older, in high school, I knew I was going to be an actor. Never president. The job never entered my mind as being a possibility, not even when I used to work for my uncle’s congressional campaigns. Or when I started filming those interviews.

Why does anyone think I, a straight white momma’s boy from Boston should be president in 2020? Just because I made a few popular Tweets about the current president’s lack of leadership?

It has to be a joke. A cosmic one. I’m a punchline. I am convinced they’ll jump out from behind a doorway and yell “You’ve been PUNK’D! We really got you this time, now here, Bernie, you’re the better candidate.”

And yet…

What if they see in me something I do not?

I place a lot of stock in being in the moment. I’ve also put a lot of work into accepting the twists and turns of life instead of allowing all the “what ifs” and “what should I dos” to eat away at me. I told everybody after I was done with Marvel and financially secure enough to only work on projects I really wanted to, I’d take life as it came at me.

Well, it came after me.

To be fair, I originally chose to get into politics, even in a tiny way, because I wanted to be informed about my choices. I created a website so others could learn, as well. As time went on, I became more involved on Capitol Hill. I even did some lobbying for a few causes dear to my heart. And, yes, I did file the ballot access paperwork.

Had I unintentionally set my path in this direction? Was it inevitable for me to become a contender for the presidency?

Fortunately, I learned early on in the process that a lot of being a presidential candidate is being a convincing showman. An actor. The world's a stage, after all, and I am but a player. You have to have some solid ideas and convictions to back up the image, but a lot of the governing comes from other members of the executive branch. Should I win, I’d only be signing off on everything.

Of course, that “everything” affects the lives of more than 300 million souls. I wouldn’t trust me with a kitchen knife, much less nuclear launch codes and people's livelihoods and education and health and…

My hands shake with nerves just thinking about it.

Let it be said, once I do make it out onto the stage--be it as an actor or presidential candidate--I rise to the challenge. The energy from the audience buoys me. Makes me feel alive. But I am not, by nature, someone who likes to sign away so much personal freedom in exchange for the weight of carrying an albatross around my neck. I thought signing for Captain America would be tough; the human toll of running for president even moreso.

Actually being President? I can’t even wrap my mind around that.

It would be easy to call it quits, even now when the votes are already cast. I could have done it a long time ago, when the reality of the situation hit me the first time. I didn’t. Something told me to hold back, play it out. I persevered. Why? Somewhere, along the line, I began to believe I could do this. I could make a positive difference in the lives of Americans.

I certainly want to do right by all my supporters--and my detractors. I want to be a leader for all Americans.

But can I, really, while knowing my incredible deficiencies?

Maybe I can’t, but I can be the team leader. A brand ambassador, if you will. A good leader delegates. And I intend, should I win, to surround myself with the best and brightest. I will accept no less. I will do ‘Whatever It Takes,’ as our slogan boasts. I am American, first and foremost, and I care deeply about this country.

A real Captain America, if you will. Maybe not as strong or powerful as others, but I sure as hell can give a great speech and will defend my country from bullies until my last breath, whether they be purple… or orange.

Except, I suppose if I’m elected, I won’t be Captain America anymore. They’ll call me Mr. President.

Or, horror of horrors, what if the new name my nearest and dearest coined makes it out into the public. They tease me with it just to see my visceral revulsion and get a laugh. But if I have learned anything about the internet--and pop culture--is that if something is catchy, it sticks around for a long time.

Maybe I ought to get used to the idea of being a punchline.

So, I suppose I have a question for you.

Won’t you consider a vote for Mr. America?

[saysomethingspiderman]

Something Wonderful (PT.6)

Synopsis: During your time as a professional photographer, you had come across incredibly good looking men, but there was just something about Tom that stood out. Who would have thought shooting the self-titled “walking meme” would change your life forever?

Chapter word count: 4.7k

Warning: SMUT (I tried)

Part One // Part Two // Part Three // Part Four // Part Five // Part Six // Part Seven // Part Eight

Happiness was simply an understatement to describe how being with Tom made you feel; elated, euphoric, intoxicated was more like it. Tom brought out a warmth in you that you weren’t even aware you had. Every time he smiled, laughed or simply looked your way your heart melted. You couldn’t dream of spending your time with anyone else. Ever since that (incredibly) short conversation about what your relationship actually was, you had barely left his place. It quickly became your safe place; the one place you felt truly comfortable.

Tom had a fairly busy few weeks filled with interviews, photoshoots and meetings, though luckily he stayed based in London and gave you one of his spare keys for the times he was out all day. His reasoning was for you to keep Tessa company since Harrison was away for a few weeks on holiday with his family, but he struggled to hide the way his entire face lit up every time he saw you curled up on the couch whenever he got home after a long day. He would then usually shower to get off the remnants of makeup he had on his face and squeeze on the couch with you for a cuddle. It was easy and comfortable and felt so right. How could a relationship be so effortless?

“You know what we’ve still not actually done yet?” Tom asked one particular cosy night. He pulled his attention away from the TV and gave you an almost shy smile as he shuffled to sit up a little, disrupting your sleepy state; until that moment, you’d been set on the idea of falling asleep against his chest, but clearly Tom had other ideas. “We haven’t gone on a real date. One where we’re not off our faces on shots or having to rush because one of us has to get back to work. I want to take you out on a proper date where we can dress up and go out for a nice meal and not have to think about anything else.”

It was true. There had been the breakfast date and road trip when you were both back in the States, but other than that there hadn’t been another occasion. You’d both been pretty busy, more Tom than you. Tom was still promoting the film and when he got any down time during the day, you were usually busy with work and deadlines. Your nights tended to end like tonight; wrapped up in a blanket with Tom on the couch and Tessa at your feet, both too tired from the day to actually do anything other than watch Netflix. It was nice to wind down together and simply enjoy each other's company. The kissing was just an added bonus. But Tom was still right: you had yet to go on a real date.

“Okay, well we’re both free tomorrow night,” you replied and reached up to push your favourite curl from his forehead. “Since it was your idea, it’s up to you to find the restaurant. No pressure or anything. Just don’t try too hard or make it obvious that you’re trying to woo me, don’t want to give the game away.”

“Woo you?” he repeated with a snort. He shook his head and caught your hand in his, then pressed his lips to your palm. Your skin tingled at the touch. “I didn’t know my girlfriend was an old woman at heart.”

“Well surprises come in all shapes and sizes,” you said with a grin and squealed with he reached around to tickle your side gently, though he quickly released you to rest his hand on your hip as he relaxed again.

“I think I’ve got somewhere in mind, but I might have to pull the celebrity card to get a reservation for tomorrow,” he said, absently stroking the bit of skin just above your jeans. “I’ll get it sorted. We’ll book it for about eight so I’ve got plenty of time in case my interviews run late.” His hand slid up your side and to your back where he started to play with the ends of your hair, something which had recently become his favourite pastime.

“Well you sort all that out and I’ll just worry about making myself look pretty.”

If you weren’t already looking at Tom, you still would have known he rolled his eyes. “Darling, you could wear a potato sack and you’d still be the most gorgeous woman in the room.”

The tenderness of his voice and the kiss he pressed to your forehead made you melt. You looked up at him with a soft smile, your cheeks a flushed, flaming red. His compliments were something you never tired of hearing. With a small shuffle, you leaned in to kiss him tenderly. When you began to pull away, Tom tightened his grip around your body and held you flush against his own. His tongue slipped past your lips and you welcomed him with a barely audible gasp. He smirked into the kiss and ran his hands down along your back before taking a firm hold of your bum, groaning deeply at the feel of the flesh in his hands. A low growl was heard, catching you off guard. He’d never made that noise before and you weren’t sure how it made you feel. Tom seemed to be thinking along the same lines, assuming the noise came from you. A small pout appeared on your lips when he pulled away slightly. Another growl came. Tom huffed and rolled his eyes, then looked over to the left.

Tessa looked over at you both from the end of the couch, watching intently. She growled yet again.

“Don’t like being a third wheel, huh, Tess?” Tom sighed. He gave you a light peck on the lips before sitting up properly on the couch to detangle himself from your limbs. When he noticed your pout had gotten bigger, he laughed and kissed your cheek, then whispered into your ear, “Tomorrow. I promise.” His voice was low and full of desire. “We’ll have no interruptions and, most importantly, no one to cock block.”

True to his word, Tom booked one of the more fancier restaurants in London. You knew it was fancy because you had to Google near enough everything on the online menu just to actually know what it was. While Tom spent the day traveling all over the city for different work commitments, you spent the morning in town searching for the perfect outfit. None of the clothes you already had were suitable and frankly you just fancied treating yourself. For hours you searched through what felt like hundreds of shops. Your feet hurt, you had a headache, and the majority of people bustling around the city were winding you up. Then in what you promised yourself was the last shop, you found the dress. The silky, dark green material fit like a glove, hugging all your curves in a way you knew would drive Tom crazy. It fell just over your knees, making your legs look longer.

You took extra time getting ready that night. You curled your hair loosely and applied your makeup carefully, deciding on a smokey eye and a nude lipstick to make your lips look more plump. For some reason you were nervous, at least more so than you should have been considering your relationship was already set. What was there to be worried about?

As it began to near half past seven, you slipped on the dress and found a pair of nude heels to match. You hadn’t spoken to Tom that much throughout the day because you knew how busy he was, but he’d told you he would pick you up at half past. As though he’d waited for the clock to turn, at half seven on the dot you got a text to say he was outside. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach. You gave yourself a quick once over in the mirror and ruffled your hair to make it a little messy, then hurried out of the flat, ignoring Olivia’s shout to use protection.

“You, my darling, are fucking beautiful,” Tom grinned when you slid into the front of his car next to him. He looked you up and down and then leaned over for a kiss. “You look stunning.”

“I don’t look even half as good as you,” you replied, wiping your lipstick away from his top lip where it had smudged. The tight shirt showed off his muscles on his chest and arms. Oh those arms.

“You’re beautiful,” Tom told you and stopped you making another comment by giving you another kiss.

On the drive over to the restaurant, he caught you up on his day. You loved hearing stories about what it was like behind the scenes. Although you’d met many people through work in Tom’s position, you’d never really understood what it was like to be under the spotlight. He told you all about who he’d been interviewed by that day and how much easier and relaxed he felt when he was joined by other cast members rather than have to go through the questions alone; it was much easier to wiggle out of uncomfortable questions when he had backup. 

“We’re all going out for dinner one night when we’re done with all the press stuff,” Tom told you as he pulled up outside the restaurant where a valet stood waiting to park the car. “I keep meaning to ask if you’ll come, but my memory turns into a sieve when I’ve got so much on.” He got out of the car, handed the valet his keys, then came around your side to help you out with a big, cheeky grin on his face. That kind of thing wasn’t something you expected or necessarily wanted, but Tom just couldn’t help himself. 

“I’d love to come with you. You never know, maybe I’ll get lucky with Jake,” you replied with a hopeful and exaggerated sigh.

“Not if I beat you to it,” he snorted and took a hold of your hand, lacing his fingers through yours, and led you into the restaurant.

The lights were turned down low and a small band played jazz music over in the far corner of the large room, casting an incredibly romantic aura around you. Per Tom’s request, you were taken to one of the tables towards the back for a little bit more privacy, though with a perfect view of the band. Red wine was ordered (a small glass for Tom as he was driving) and you couldn’t help but giggle when you tapped your glasses together to celebrate finally making it out on your first proper date.

“I told Mum and Dad about us the other day,” you said when the starters arrived. You ripped apart a small piece of bread to start dipping into your soup. “I’ve never seen Mum so excited over anything before in my whole life.”

“And what was your dad’s reaction?” Tom questioned. It was clear he was nervous about the man’s feelings towards him, which was understandable because the two had still yet to meet. 

You gave a shrug of a shoulder and quickly wiped the corner of your mouth where the soup had spilled. “Typical dad reaction, I suppose. He got protective, though I could tell he was only pretending, and just started asking questions about you. Nothing too dramatic. I mean, Dad’s just one of those parents who’s happy if I’m happy. I just know how embarrassing he’ll be, though, when he finally meets you. More embarrassing than Mum, that’s for sure.”

“Your mum wasn’t that bad.”

“Yeah, because you met her for about five minutes before I saved you.”

“Wait until you meet mine,” Tom chuckled and took a sip of his wine. “It’s like she always carries baby pictures of us around all the time just waiting for the perfect moment to whip them out. Not even kidding, the first time I introduced her to Downey, it wasn’t even five minutes before she pulled a picture of me in my old Spidey baby suit!”

You laughed softly and shook your head, holding your hand to your chest. “You had a baby Spider-Man costume? Wow, I don’t think I’ve ever imagined anything cuter!”

Tom’s cheeks reddened. He cast a shy smile over at you and ran a hand through his hair, messing it up slightly. “Yeah, well I guess I was born for the part,” he smirked with a shrug of a shoulder.

“I couldn’t imagine anyone doing a better job at it,” you told him sincerely and the soft look that appeared on his face made it clear how much those words meant to him. There were many things that Tom was that you simply adored and being passionate about his job was right up there towards the top of the list. Being Spider-Man meant so much to him and the last thing he wanted to do was ruin it, both for himself and for fans of the whole Marvel franchise.

Throughout the meal, the two of you laughed like you were the only ones in the room. All hell could have broken loose in the restaurant but neither of you would have noticed because you were just enjoying each other’s company. You realised one of your favourite things to do was make him laugh; it was a gorgeous sound that you’d never get sick of. When the bill was paid, Tom decided to leave his car for now and you walked hand in hand to a cocktail bar not too far away. 

“So go on,” you said when you settled down in a little booth in the bar with a bright orange cocktail in your hand. You leaned into Tom’s side comfortably and he placed a hand on your knee, stroking the smooth skin with his thumb. “Tell me one thing no one else knows. Not even your brothers or even Harrison,” you continued and gave a cheeky grin.

Tom laughed and shook his head, then took a gulp of his water as though preparing himself. But he shrugged his shoulders. “There’s not much they don’t know, especially Haz. Fucking hell, he probably knows more about what I’ve been up to than I know myself.” He leaned back in the seat as he thought for a moment. “Okay, I’ve got something, but you have to promise you can’t breathe a word to anyone,” he said and leaned back towards you again, face just inches from yours.

“Okay, I promise,” you smiled and tilted your head a little higher to steal a kiss. As well as his laugh, his kisses were at the top of your list of favourite things about him.

“I mean it, babe,” he said, voice low. It sent shivers along your spine and goosebumps appeared on your arms and legs. A glint appeared in Tom’s eye and he squeezed your knee. Then, wanting to test your reaction, slid his hand slowly along the outside of your thigh, pushing your dress up along with it. “You’ve to promise me you won’t tell anyone,” he repeated in a whisper, pressing his forehead to yours.

All you could do was give a nod. You were barely listening to him now, your focus solely on his hand on your leg and the burning feeling his fingers left on your skin. Your eyes fluttered close as he leaned closer, brushing his nose against yours. His lips were so close, his breath tickling you.

“The day we met,” he started and brushed a piece of hair from your face, tucking it gently behind your ear, “I actually had a date that night.”

“Oh, well how lovely. That’s not exactly what I had in mind,” you replied with a roll of your eyes. “I wanted something juicy or a story about a wank gone wrong or something.”

Tom chuckled softly and shook his head. “I didn’t tell anyone because the guys make a big deal out of things like that sometimes. But yeah, I don’t even think it was half an hour after meeting you that I cancelled it. I didn’t…” He paused, gave a small smile and then kissed you chastely. “I didn’t want to let you slip away.”

You pretended to throw up into your drink and laughed when he pushed his hand further under your dress to grab a hold of your bum. “You, Mr Holland, are a very cheeky boy,” you giggled, placing your own hand on his chest to fiddle with the small buttons on his shirt. “But just so you know, I’m fucking glad you cancelled.”

“You know what? So am I.”

You weren’t sure how fast it happened or which one of you made the first move, but in what felt like no time at all, you’d downed the rest of your drink, driven back to Tom’s and found yourself pressed against the front door of his house after he’d slammed it shut behind you. The door was cold against your back but your skin burned at Tom’s touch. His kiss was hungry and hurried, as though it would be his last time tasting you. His hands grabbed at your waist, your hips, anywhere he could, and hurriedly pushed your dress up, not giving a care in the world if it ripped.

“Careful,” you managed to whisper as his lips moved to your neck. His hands were everywhere, touching as much of your skin as he could, yet it wasn’t enough. You needed more. Taking charge, you firmly took a hold of his hands and, seeing his suddenly confused expression plastered across his face, moved away to lead him to the bedroom, letting your dress fall back down your legs on the way to hide the bum he adored so much.

“I swear, if Tessa ruins this for us again, I’ll throw away her box of treats,” Tom muttered grumpily, eyes fixated on how the dress clung perfectly, almost tauntingly, to your backside.

“Oh we both know you’d never be so cruel,” you smirked, glancing back at him over your shoulder. You caught him admiring your bum and raised a brow. “Spot something you like?”

“Oh yeah, very much!” Tom looked up and gave a great, big, childish grin.

It was as though stepping through the doorway into Tom’s bedroom suddenly intensified the nervousness you’d been feeling before the date. You’d both been happy in your relationship and you knew eventually it would lead to this, but now you stood in his room in your crinkled dress that Tom had struggled not to rip off you, it felt incredibly real. This was really happening. You turned and saw Tom watching you from the doorway. He gave a smile.

“We don’t have to do this,” he said, sensing your hesitation. “Not if you don’t want to.”

“Oh believe me, I want to,” you replied and your face flushed at how excited he looked. “I just… I don’t know, I don’t want to be a disappointment.”

With a shake of his head, Tom moved closer and cupped your face in his gentle hands. He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Darling, there’s nothing to be nervous about.”

You were being irrational, you knew it. He was right, there was nothing to worry about because you were with him. You weren’t exactly new to this but it had been a while. The softness of his voice made you look up and you slid your arms up his chest to wrap around his neck as you pulled him closer. The kiss was soft and slow but the lust very quickly took over. All nervousness was forgotten. His hands held your waist and he pushed you back towards the bed, resting himself on top of you when you fell down onto the mattress. His fingers skimmed the skin on your thigh, making you shiver, and he pushed your dress further up, bunching it in his fist on your hip, struggling to control himself and not destroy it. You pressed against his shoulders, moving so you were on top, straddling his hips as you deepened the kiss, tongues tracing over each other’s lips.

When your breath started coming out faster and the heat began to build up almost uncomfortable in your bodies, you sat up properly and bunched your dress up to pull it off. Tom’s face was a glorious sight. He swallowed thickly as his hungry eyes took every inch of you in, eventually settling on your bare breasts.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” Tom moaned and roughly pulled you back down, hands running over your back as he kissed your neck, leaving his mark.

You tugged at his shirt and he sat up enough to swiftly tug it off, tossing it to the other side of the room. His lips found yours again and he pressed you flush against his chest, skin touching skin. You kissed along his shoulder, nibbling and licking and sucking gently. His soft moan vibrated through his chest and you smirked, though it quickly turned into a moan of your own when his hands moved to cup your breasts and he took a nipple in his mouth.

He pushed you back onto the bed and kissed along your breasts and down your body until he reached the lacy edge of the thong you wore specially for tonight. A heavy sigh came from him and he looked up at you, his eyes dark with lust.

“Well get on with it,” you teased. You chewed your lower lip at the sight of him, his hair ruffled and cheeks slightly flushed. His made your knees weak.

Tom pushed aside the elastic, kissing the flesh he’d revealed, and a shiver shook your body. You moaned impatiently, and his restraint slipped. He pulled your thong down a little rougher than intended and groaned deeply, seeing the shining wetness of your core. He kissed your inner thigh and slid his fingers along between your lips, feeling the dampness. Hearing your whimper, he slowly slipped two fingers into you.

“Christ, you’re soaking,” Tom whispered, his breath tickling your skin.

His fingers were gentle and slow. He moved back up your body to kiss you. You moaned softly against his lips as he moved his fingers faster, smoothing his thumb over your clit. You rocked your hips against him and pulled him closer, grabbing at his hair and pulling on the curly strands. He pressed harder against your clit and tugged on your lower lip with his teeth. You felt yourself getting closer as his fingers curled inside your walls, finding the spot that made stars appear before your eyes.

Tom smirked against your lips.

Your muscles tightened around his fingers.

And you came undone.

“You’re beautiful,” he breathed, watching you writhe against him. He swallowed thickly. Slowing his movements as you came down from your high, he pressed gentle kisses along your jaw, your cheek, your eyelids, wanting to get every bit of you. He then tilted your head up to capture your lips in a kiss.

“Why do you still have clothes on?” you managed to ask and reached down to fiddle with the button of his trousers.

His breath hitched as you grazed over his hardened cock. He shook his head and reluctantly moved away. Seeing the pout on your swollen lips, he laughed and just stood up straight to remove his trousers and boxers. 

Your mouth watered at the sight. This time it was your turn to be left breathless.

“You all right, darling?” he asked, though the smirk that graced his lips made it more than obvious he knew that you were impressed.

“Never better,” you whispered and sat up properly to move to the edge of the bed, settling in front of him. Your eyes never left his as you pressed the softest of kisses to his tip.

“Another time,” Tom said in a pained voice and brushed your hair from your eyes. He moved over to the bedside table and pulled a box of condoms from the drawer, quickly opening one to slide on to his throbbing cock. “Hey, my eyes are up here,” he said with a cocky grin and pointed to his face when he noticed you couldn’t look away.

“Oh, I’m well aware,” you replied and grabbed a hold of his hand to pull him onto the bed, ignoring his yelp as you moved to straddle him. The sight of him lying between your thighs was heavenly. Would it be wrong to just stay in this spot all night, pressing your heat against him so you could watch him squirm beneath you? A deep groan came from Tom as you began moving your hips painstakingly slowly, spreading your wetness along his cock.

His fingers dug into your thighs and moved up to hold your bum, grabbing it hard enough to leave marks. Just as he was about to beg, you raised yourself up a little and guided his cock to your entrance, eyes closing in pure bliss as you gently lowered yourself, taking his full length.

“Jesus, [Y/N],” came his whimper and his hands tightened on your bum to help lift you slightly. Both your moans filled the room as you fell back down, clenching your walls around him.

You leaned down and brought your lips to his. It was hungry, powerful, intoxicating. The room fell away, leaving the two of you lost in your own bubble of passion. He pulled you closer, your breasts bouncing against his chest as you rocked your hips, but he wanted more. He couldn’t bring you close enough. He wanted every part of you.

Tom tightened his hold on you and rolled over, lips barely breaking contact with your skin. He pushed into you and buried his head in the crook of your neck. His moans were addictive. His hips rocked into yours, each move purposeful.

Your nails raked along the skin of his back, leaving angry red lines. The whispers and murmurs of encouragement and swearing and simply his name in your lips spurred Tom on even more, wanting to give everything he had. With a hand placed around your neck, squeezing ever so slightly, testing the waters, he thrust harder and took a hold of your leg beneath your knee, lifting it. The angle was perfect.

Everything was perfect.

The scent, taste and feel of him was perfect.

He began roughly pounding into you, kissing every piece of your skin he could reach: your chin, neck, collar bone, breasts. You felt skin break under your nails and you moved your hands from his back to his hair, pulling hard on the curls.

“F-fuck, don’t s-top, oh God, please don’t stop!” Your words came out in a pant, quickly turning to a loud moan when he dropped his hand from your leg and moved it between you, rubbing your clit in a way that made your eyes roll to the back of your head. 

The bed beneath moved with you both, headboard smashing against the wall with each of Tom’s thrusts.

“You gonna cum for me, darling?” His voice was hoarse and deep.

You bit down hard into the skin between his neck and shoulder as you entered the state of euphoria. Tom followed just moments later with one final thrust, spilling himself with a low groan of your name. His legs weakened and he fell onto you, crushing your body beneath him.

“Okay, I can’t breathe,” you giggled and blew his hair away from your mouth.

With a laugh, he leaned up to give you a kiss, then rolled onto his back next to you to rest, eyes closing. He lay panting softly, body too spent to move much. “That was-”

“Yeah,” you replied with a big grin and glanced at him. His skin glistened in the light of the room and his hair stuck up at all angles. “It was definitely amazing.”

Lids still closed, he pulled the condom off and tied it in a knot, then tossed it onto the floor, deciding it was a problem to clean up later. He reached out to you and pulled you close against his chest. The sound of his heart beat loudly in your ears and you decided right then and there that you never wanted to spend your life with anybody else. This, right here with Tom, was home.

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A Favor. {Part 3}

{Part 1}     {Part 2}

A/N: I really hope this is okay! I did my best with all the unique characters that make up the Thrombey family. And thanks so much for reading! I appreciate any/all feedback! I’ve put this one mostly under a cut as it’s the longest of the three! Enjoy!

“I can’t do this.” halfway up to the front door of the large brick manor, you turned around, almost losing your footing in the gravel drive. You didn’t usually wear heels—why did you wear heels?—but you felt like you needed to dress up for this. His family was famously wealthy.

Ransom reached out for your arm to steady you, reluctant to let go until you made eye contact with him.

“You’ll be fine, you look great. They’ll love you.”

You rolled your eyes at his praise, but there was a small, microscopic part of you that lifted a little bit. Since when was Hugh Ransom Drysdale so complimentary?

“I’m serious.” Both hands met your cardigan-covered shoulders. “They’ll love you more than they love me.”

“I think anyone could manage that. Have you met you?”

You caught his smile before it faded. He was looking ahead at someone standing on the porch.

Walt.

Ransom had given you a brief rundown of the Thrombey family tree on the way over, adding in colorful language here and there to emphasize just how much he struggled to get along with almost any of them. You resisted pointing out that maybe there could be a reason for it…

“Here we go,” he sighed. He took your arm gently, helping you all the way up to the porch. There was warmth radiating from him, detectable even through the sleeve of your coat. 

It made you nervous, and you couldn’t pinpoint why, except for maybe how different this felt compared to all the other times you’d come across Ransom Drysdale. Always abrasive, confrontational, mocking. Now, as he led you past Walt without a word to him in greeting, you felt protected. When did everything change?

Walt scoffed to himself. “Typical.”

Ransom almost stopped, but your momentum caused him to continue through the door and into the large manor.

“He’s not worth the time,” Ransom muttered, as if he needed to explain to you why he avoided the encounter. You were definitely relieved to not be caught in the middle of something like that. The animosity was palpable.

“Oh, hi!” Joni walked into the foyer, dressed in a light, flowy blouse that caught your eye immediately as looking very out of place in the current surroundings. Joni looked out of place here, amongst the other Thrombeys, but it didn’t seem to bother her.

She walked over to you first, offering a gentle touch of the cheek in an attempt at a european greeting before moving on to Ransom and opting to just touch his shoulder. He didn’t react. “You didn’t tell us you were bringing someone,” she smiled, voice dripping with intrigue.

“Yeah…” Ransom trailed off. He seemed to be looking for someone else, eyes peeking past Joni for a way out.

“So, how did you meet?” Joni was being nice, and you appreciated it. There wasn’t much Ransom had to say about her in the car besides detailing her desperation to be in the spotlight and to be liked. She seemed like the most harmless of the Thrombeys. 

Everything would only get harder after this.

“Well, I own a coffee shop in the little city center down the road, and—”

“I know that place,” she interrupted. You were relieved, not knowing what story Ransom wanted you to tell. Her mouth fell open in mock shock. It felt like too much. “I’ve always wanted to go, but now I absolutely must!” 

At that moment Jan, the housekeeper, walked through on her way to the sitting room, carrying a few glasses of champagne to pass out. Joni gasped and stole two, missing Jan’s sharp glare in her direction. She handed the second to you and you took it eagerly.

Ransom rolled his eyes. “Have you seen Harlan?” 

Joni looked up at him, merriment gone from her expression. “No, I’ve been—”

You felt him pull at your arm as he walked into the other room, not sticking around to listen to Joni’s likely long-winded explanation. You felt a little bad.

The living room quieted as Ransom led you in, stopping just inside the doorway. You could hear Joni heading upstairs as everyone else in the room just stared. Maybe agreeing to this wasn’t such a good idea.

The whole family had gathered inside, waiting for Harlan to appear, it seemed. Linda and Richard Drysdale, Ransom’s parents, sat side-by-side on a beautiful sofa, the seat beside Linda vacated, possibly by Joni. Donna, Walt’s wife, you assumed, based on Ransom’s description of a frightened deer, stood off in the back corner, eagerly taking up a glass of champagne for herself. Her son, Jacob, sat in an armchair near her, eyes still cast down at his phone. Meg stood behind the empty spot on the sofa, dressed more casually than the rest. Joni’s daughter, just based on appearances alone, you inferred. 

It was an intimidating bunch, for myriad reasons.

“Ransom,” Linda greeted, though there was no warmth in her eyes as they raked over you. “Who is this?”

“Hi, I’m—”

“She’s my guest, mother.”

And that was it. The only explanation he offered. 

“I didn’t think you would come.” Her words seemed to clarify why everyone else had fallen silent. Maybe it had less to do with you and more to do with Ransom’s spotty attendance at past family gatherings. It was a relief, albeit a small one.

“Well, I’m here,” he shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest. You continued to stand awkwardly at his side. 

“Aren’t you going to introduce us?” his father asked, leaving his seat on the sofa, tumbler of some dark alcohol in hand. You could see the resemblance right away. 

Richard Drysdale carried himself much as Ransom had described. He was firmly stuck under Linda’s thumb, shooting a glance her way as he approached you. As if he needed her approval.

Ransom sighed, straightening up beside you. “This is—”

“Oh, I don’t think that’ll be necessary,” Walt interrupted, moving quickly into the middle of the room. “You’re gonna shrug this one off before the week is out.” Ransom stood tall and unfazed as Walt turned around and gestured towards you with his cane.

You felt a bit of fire stir up in your belly as you wound up on the receiving end of one of his insults. Ransom shifted slightly into Walt’s path, blocking any access he could have to you. 

Being put on the spot again, the champagne was a precious elixir in the moment, and a valuable distraction.

“How dare you,” Ransom countered. “I want you to apologize to my girlfriend, right now.”

You spit into your glass, raising it higher to avoid staining Ransom’s sweater. There were audible gasps from a good portion of the gathered Thrombeys. You could see their attention beginning to shift from Ransom to you, and you never wanted to be somewhere less than in that moment.

“Excuse me,” you whispered, more to Ransom than anyone else. You took your chance to leave before anyone opened their mouth. You could feel Ransom’s towering presence at your back as he followed closely behind you. Once the door clicked shut behind him, leaving everyone in the sitting room, you reared around and reached up towards him, frustration filling your limbs.

“What the hell was that?”

He shrugged, arms out at his sides as if you were severely overreacting. “What? It got him off my back...don’t tell me you’re mad.”

“I thought we discussed this, Ransom. I’m not play-acting, I’m not misleading your family. I’m here as a friend, though I wouldn’t even call myself that—”

Mid-rant, he pulled the glass out of your hand and set it down on a nearby table before interrupting you.

“We’re friends, you’re my friend,” he interrupted. “Why wouldn’t you be?”

“Have we ever had anything in common? Up until this week, I didn’t think you even remembered who I was. You were never nice to me in high school, why start now?”

“Because I…” Because things change, he wanted to say. But he couldn’t. How could he admit the slight bit of admiration blooming in his gut every time he saw you? His morning coffee runs never held so much sway over his day as they did now. And the fact that he had gotten to experience you away from work, a little out of your element, you were so charming, and you had a politeness that he sorely lacked. It was like you held everything he was missing. Together, the two of you could balance each other out. At least, if he didn’t drive you away first.

“Ransom!” Harlan Thrombey smiled from the end of the wide hallway. You turned to see the patriarch walking over, his nurse, Marta, following closely behind, eyes watching his posture, making sure he didn’t lose his balance. “Please, I know I’m old, but do tell me if my eyes are deceiving me. Is this… someone new?”

You held out a hand to him and he took it, giving a firm handshake back to you before fixing a critical eye on Ransom. “Should we talk now, or later?” Ransom asked. Harlan nodded, releasing your hand, before gesturing over to his study.

“Let’s get this over with.”

For the first time since arriving at the Thrombey estate, Ransom left your side. The door clicked shut and it took a moment before you felt comfortable enough to look away from the dark, wooden door, and up to Marta. Ransom described her as nice enough, good to his grandfather, mostly a non-issue in the Thrombey household. As if she wasn’t really there.

Marta wore a smile, dressed in a comfortable sweater and pants, sticking to flats. She was pretty, and you wondered briefly if you had anything to worry about.

As if you had a stake in this in the first place.

“Hi, I’m Marta, Harlan’s nurse. It’s nice to see Ransom with someone so…”

“Plain?” you suggested.

“Calm,” she corrected. “I think that’s good for him. I, um, I hope you don’t mind me saying so.”

It felt good to see that you weren’t the only person in awe of the chaos that seemed to be the Thrombey family. A relief, really.

“Not at all. I really appreciate that, but… we aren’t exactly together. I’m just doing him a favor.”

Marta’s curious eyebrow morphed into a smile. “Yeah, you do seem too good for him. He’s kind of an—”

The door opened and both men stepped out. Ransom had a big smile on his face, while Harlan remained hard to read. Whatever conversation they’d had, it seemed to have gone well for Ransom. I guess that meant you’d be staying through the meal. Fantastic.

[stillness-in-green]

Spinaraki Week, Day 3: Emptiness | Harmony

Hope it’s closer, hope it’s somewhere When it’s over, hope we don’t care I’ll be there, too, there when it comes true So take me down with you

A fan soundtrack — with accompanying fanfic shorts, if desired  — for Shigaraki and Spinner, from Gigantomachia, to Jaku, and beyond.   

(google drive  |  youtube playlist)

Below the cut, the fanfic shorts and links to the lyrics.

forever or never  — cinema bizarre  //  take me under  — man with a mission  //  so cold  — breaking benjamin  //  silver lining  — hurts  //  all i need is love  — sakai mikio  //  stay alive  — may’n  //  fake wings ~ bitter sweet ver.  — kajiura yuki  //  roads untraveled  — linkin park  //  all of my days  — alexi murdoch  //  shØut  — sawano hiroyuki

                                                 ———–

Track 1 |   Forever or Never

They were two weeks into fighting Machia and Spinner right in the middle of another series of complaints about what kind of food Shigaraki was eating—as if he could even make time for anything more complicated than supplements and protein drinks when getting enough sleep was way harder to manage—when Shigaraki made up his mind, leaned forward, and kissed him.  

“S’nice that you’re worried about me,” he said to Spinner’s gawping.  “But if you’ve got something to say, you should come out and say it.”  He was floating on sleep deprivation, the world too many colors, too bright and too fuzzy, and Spinner sitting right in front of him, the most colorful splotch of green on the smudgy brown woods, pink eyes staring—they’d been staring a lot lately.

“Machia could break me in half tomorrow.  Tonight, even.”  He laughed raggedly.  The knowledge felt like his family’s hands—too heavy, nausea-inducing, but still offering an endless freedom.  “I don’t want your last words to me to be, ‘Shigaraki, you need more carbs.’”

“…Well, you do!” Spinner sputtered, but he set the latest round of pills and juice packs down roughly in front of Shigaraki and beat a hasty retreat. Shigaraki watched him flee; a lazy grin sat on his face with alien comfort.

  Track 2 |   Take Me Under

Somehow, even though he looked like he was about to pass out mid-stride, Shigaraki was still pulling away from him.  Everything he touched dissolved into flecks of ash, while the zealots on the bad end of Spinner’s blades remained doggedly fleshy, snarling and wrathful, all shouting voices and grasping, tearing hands and maybe Shigaraki had nightmares like this, maybe he was used to them and that was why he cut through it all so easy.  

Spinner dragged his arm through another vicious slice, dragged his legs through another step, focusing on Shigaraki’s narrow shoulders.  Don’t go without me, he willed.  Bring me with you!  I wanna see it too!

  Track 3 |   So Cold

“Not gonna talk about Stain-sama anymore?” Shigaraki asked, an edge of challenge leaking into his voice.  Spinner had been weird since Deika, hanging on Shigaraki’s words with a hushed air of attentiveness that made Shigaraki too aware of the sound of his own voice when he’d hardly ever worried about that kind of thing before, and definitely not among allies.

Spinner flushed, the suffusion of red across his scales suggesting he had a bit of chameleon in there somewhere, but not a very cooperative bit.  He rubbed his neck, looking away at the common room the League had requisitioned for their private meetings.

“….Maybe now and then?” he hedged.  “I mean, he was the reason I got out.  I’m grateful to him for that.  But it's like I said back at the shack.  I joined the League to find a purpose.  It wasn’t—it wasn’t ever about Stain himself, exactly.”

“You find something better?” Shigaraki tipped his head on one side. There was a vague itch in his chest, a wiggling little need to hear about this new purpose—it was a leader thing, probably; he got Mr. Compress his sushi, and Toga was never shy about what she wanted, and now here was Spinner ready to spill his big goal.  Like getting a 100% complete, taking stock of what it was going to take for his allies to get what they wanted.

Spinner looked back up, expression weird—eyes a little wide, vulnerable, like he’d just been hit or he was bracing for it, but the set of his mouth around his beak firm.  He looked at Shigaraki like he was trying to stare a hole through him, but he nodded.

“Gonna tell me what it is?” Shigaraki pressed.

“It’s…  You don’t need to worry about what it is.”  Cagey asshole.  “We just gotta keep going.”

Shigaraki drew his nails down his neck almost idly, a simmer of dissatisfaction in his skin, holding Spinner’s gaze long enough for him to go through both awkward shifting and a stubborn bounce back.  His eyes were clear—too clear, Shigaraki thought, and it hit him.  

The horizon.

He folded forward, struck to laughter, though the annoying feeling in his chest worsens.  Spinner had showed up all enamored with Stain’s ideas about a purge this, a cleansing that.  Or course he could see the appeal of emptiness.

“Who’d have thought you were fucked up enough to want that?” he murmured, snorting when Spinner stiffened in offense.  “Okay. We’ll keep going, then.”

  Track 4 |   Silver Lining

Shigaraki after the first stage of the surgery looked pale—even more so than usual—and drained in ways even Gigantomachia hadn’t left him.  He didn’t want to talk about how it went.  He pressed an unselfconscious kiss to the corner of Spinner’s mouth and leaned against him, listening and nodding to Spinner’s faltering report on how things are going with the Front, chipping in now and again with an opinion or an order. To Spinner’s immense relief, he even managed a few sarcastic comments.  

When Ujiko came for him, Spinner almost couldn’t breathe, didn’t even really try until the black gunk welled up in his throat to send him back to the villa.  He wiped his mouth after coughing it all up and straightened.  

There was work to do.  

  Track 5 |   All I Need Is Love

Endeavor hit him with another blast of fire and the meaninglessness of it all pulled laughter out of Shigaraki like broken teeth.  He let himself fall back from the force of it, landed on feet that seemed to know what to do with only minimal guidance from him.

His body hurt—hurt in ways he’d really thought he was past feeling, but then, fire had always been a particular brand of all-over pain—and the feeling in his chest was worse.  The awareness floated at the back of his mind, a list of cold facts pinned up in his brain under a spotlight, cognition in the style of lepidopterology.

Heroes had found the lab. 

The Doc had kept that lab hidden for longer than Shigaraki’d been alive.  The heroes had to have gotten new intel somehow.

All the possible sources for new intel were holed up in the mountain villa.

Flying heroes were rare, but not so rare that there wouldn’t be more fighting him here (Majestic alone would be doing a better job playing keep-away with Eraser Head) if they weren’t occupied elsewhere.

The conclusion sat at the bottom of the list: Machia was on his way, but Shigaraki wouldn’t know who he’d lost until the moment the big gorilla got here.

Still, there was just the barest trace of comfort there—Machia was on the way, and either the others had made it or they hadn’t, and soon he’d find out whether Spinner meant it or not, about wanting to see this horizon.

   Track 6 |   Stay Alive

Earlier than expected, Toga had said.  Spinner clung onto Gigantomachia for all he was worth, eyes on the horizon as the chaos of the battle at the villa finally receded behind them.  His heart pounded so hard it hurt, throbbing with the memory of Shigaraki at the bottom of that crater in Deika, his tangled hair and bare shoulders all but glowing, pearl white, in the shafts of pale sunlight filtering back down through the scattering debris.  Shigaraki tucked up against him in the cheap bed Ujiko kept in the lab, tracing his fingers along Spinner’s scales with unthinking abstraction, not afraid, not disgusted, not even paying all that much attention.  

Spinner had been helpless then and he was no better now, terror thick in his throat as he watched the horizon for anything—the hospital, a telltale cloud of dust, a sign, just—just anything to give him a bit of hope.  

  Track 7 |   Fake Wings ~ bitter sweet ver.

Shigaraki hadn’t regained consciousness yet.  His burns had healed, but the deep, dry fissures in his skin wee slower to close.  They corkscrewed down his arms and speared out viciously over his chest, cicada shell cracks, and who knew what had been trying to pull itself out of that body when Spinner and the others had finally made it to him?

Two crevices ran up either side of his spine in eerie symmetry, each branching once before continuing up, angling along the inside edges of his shoulder-blades.  Spinner tried not to look at them more than he had to—every time he did, he’d get horrible mental images of wings shuddering their way free, sticky and wet with blood and enzymes.  

He smiled.  Spinner reminded himself of that every time he sat down to reapply hydrocortisone and calamine.  When he saw us on Machia, he looked at us and he smiled.  

It had looked pretty ghoulish, but a lot of Shigaraki’s smiles did.  More importantly, though, he’d looked at them with recognition.  Whatever had been brewing in him to make him look like some kind of haggard, slough-skinned revenant, Spinner had watched it recede when Shigaraki’s red eyes fell on them, on him.  

He dared to run one hand over Shigaraki’s hair, rinsed painstakingly clean by Spinner and Mr. Compress as soon as they’d gotten settled in the tiny, two-road hamlet Skeptic had directed them to.  They were laying low for now, hoping to meet up with stragglers from the villa, Re-Destro and the rest, but Spinner couldn’t make himself think about it with any clarity.  Not when Shigaraki was still out and they didn’t have Ujiko around to tell them what was wrong.

Wake up, Shigaraki. Please.  Please.

  Track 8 |   Roads Untraveled

“Did you see it?”

“Shigaraki!”  Spinner started violently when Shigaraki whispered the words.  “You’re awake!”  

“And you’re loud,” Shigaraki grumbled.  Pain ran a latticework over his body; he wrestled one arm out from under the sheets someone had tucked him into and examined it.  A freshly-healed scar spiraled up his arm, putting him vaguely in mind of narutomaki.  Skimming the injury, his eyes caught on the hole in his palm and it struck him, foggily, that he didn’t actually know if Sensei had always had those or if they came with Air Cannon.  

Sensei.  He thought the name slowly, deliberately, letting the syllables prod at his own mind, seeing if there was any response. Nothing poked back, though he still felt strange, emptied out and scraped back into a new container, all mushed up from the transition.  Weird. Nothing he couldn’t get used to, but still.

Spinner was still talking, he realized belatedly, and tuned back in in time to hear, “I’m sorry we didn’t get to you sooner.  It just got so crazy so fast, we—”

“Spinner,” he interrupted, because there was a ring of shame in Spinner’s voice and Shigaraki wasn’t in the mood for it.  “What’d you think of it?”

“Of what?” Spinner asked. He’d changed clothes, out of his polka dot vest and dark cargo pants and into a plain cotton button-up that fit him too tight around the shoulders.  Not one of his, and not his style, either, so probably a loaner, or stolen, which meant they were in another hideout.

Shigaraki briefly debated whether he was angry about that and immediately decided that anger was much too intense for how empty he was feeling at that moment.  He answered Spinner instead.  

“You know what.”  

It took Spinner a second to put it together.  He might have done better if Shigaraki had stopped staring at him for a minute, but Shigaraki didn’t much feel like doing that, either.  Spinner’s awkwardness was comfortably familiar.

“It…  It was amazing,” he answered finally.  “Practically the whole city was gone.”

“Bigger than in Deika?” Shigaraki asked, more for confirmation than reassurance.

“Way bigger.”

“Papers have a death toll yet?”  

“They’re still just talking about casualties—a few thousand, ‘expected to rise.’  But Skeptic says they’re way underreporting.”  

That’s still too low. They must have figured us out, Shigaraki thought, even as Spinner frowned, somewhere between angry and distraught.

“Hawks got information out somehow,” he went on.  “I’m sorry. We should have—”

“We didn’t.  That’s all.  We’ll just do it better next time.”  Shigaraki tried to lever himself up.  Immediately, Spinner leaned in next to him—not trying to browbeat him into resting, which was a nice change, but hooking an arm around his back and giving him a good sturdy vertical surface to brace against.  Or maybe just rest against.  Fuck, he was tired.  I’m gonna kill the Doc; super-regeneration is supposed to work better than this.

“How’re you feeling?” Spinner asked anxiously.  Spinner was—weirdly comfortable.  Warm.  Solid.  Shigaraki lost whatever his response was going to be, letting himself go lax against Spinner’s side.  “Shigaraki?”

“Feel like I’ve been cold since I got out of the tube,” he answered, too tired to bother with anything but the truth, to which Spinner immediately held him closer.  Heh.  Bonus. “How about you?  Find anything to fill you up while I was away?”

“Not that I’ve got to show you.  The whole villa was—” Spinner paused, frustration giving way to suspicion.  “Was that a dirty joke?”  

Shigaraki snickered and leaned back, pulling Spinner down into the bed with him.  Spinner fell with a muffled yelp.  “Eh.”

“I don’t believe you,” Spinner said, but quietly, and didn’t follow it up.  Slowly, his hands found their way up to Shigaraki’s face, those sharp claws of his infinitely careful as he pushed back Shigaraki’s hair.  “Gonna sleep some more?”

“Gonna make me?”  It didn’t sound like such a bad idea, honestly. Spinner would have told him something by now if wherever they were wasn’t safe.  

“I don’t think I could if I wanted to,” Spinner muttered.  “You got really ripped.”  

The confused, not quite envious tone dissolved Shigaraki into dry cackling.  Of all the shit to focus on.

“Guess I did.”  He decided to let himself have the moment—no telling how long it’d last, after all—and relaxed with a sigh into the circle of Spinner’s arms.

  Track 9 |   All of My Days

Shigaraki slept in his arms.

There were a thousand other things to worry about, things Spinner had sworn he’d start thinking about as soon as Shigaraki woke up, but that boat had obviously sailed, seeing as Spinner’s brain had decided that now was the perfect time get stuck on things like, Thank god he’s still him, and, How did it wind up like this? not to mention a repeating chorus of, I’m so glad he’s alright, and a bunch of fragments like, I never thought I— and, Back then, I—

He exhaled, stirring Shigaraki’s hair.  Splayed lazily on his chest, Shigaraki snored softly, undisturbed, drawn back from hazy-eyed detachment by that last burst of laughter, which had been cutting and mean and perfect—and, judging by how fast he’d dropped back off, had also tired him right back out.  He’d gotten heavier, which Spinner already knew from muscling him around the house for the last two days, but like this, his weight just felt right.  Reassuring.  

Savior and liberator, those were the words Re-Destro used for Shigaraki, and Spinner had always rolled his eyes about it, because it was too much, flowery and over-exposed.  But when he thought back on his life before, just a set of scales stretched thin over a hollow ache, just fitful anger with nowhere to turn but inward…  

He sighed again and tightened his grip, just a little.  There was a lot ahead of them still, bad news to break, temporary separations and permanent losses.  But despite that, just in that moment, Spinner felt—okay.  Like things would be all right.  Like the moment he was in was enough.  And it’d been such a long time since he’d felt that way that he couldn’t even bring himself to feel guilty for it.  

Shigaraki slept in his arms, and Spinner let himself breathe.

  Track 10 |   Shout

The little house they were in—a guest house, the impersonal decor of which had not survived half a week with Toga, Mr. Compress and Skeptic all under one roof—was steadily transforming into their new base of operations.  Gigantomachia had been hollowing out a space below ground, dank and shabby compared to the repurposed flood cisterns beneath the villa, but it was slowly filling up with people—stragglers the old MLA smuggled in, because Hawks might have figured out who the Army’s heroes were, but even he was never going to get a full member list; the Army hadn’t even kept one.  They’d been doing the hide-in-plain-sight operation for generations, and being back in a scenario where they could get raided again mostly just seemed to fire them up.  

Shigaraki was back on his feet again like he’d never been off of them, scars—what was left of them—faded to thin white lines and mostly hidden behind his clothes.  He was right back to black, too, courtesy of a fashion expedition Toga and a few local kids had run to the nearest town over.  

The news was still going crazy; no matter where Spinner went in town, there was always a boxy little TV or an old radio on with people standing around paying keen attention to the complete meltdown happening across the country—the destruction of Jaku City, Shigaraki’s escape, the discovery and capture of Ujiko, Endeavor’s connection to Dabi (which Shigaraki had apparently figured out half a year ago, in the aftermath of that very first Vanguard Action Squad attack), Hawks’ disfigurement, quirk-erasing bullets, the resurgence of the Meta Liberation Army—a 24-news cycle wasn’t enough to cover everything, and while “vindictive glee” wasn’t quite what Spinner had had in mind back when worried about keeping morale up, well, he still wasn’t going to complain.

They had their feet under them now.  Every day, plans were being redrawn, the math being refigured: subtract the element of surprise from the MLA’s operations, but add in the damage done to the Hero Billboard Chart’s precious top ten; take away the Noumu, but wait, actually, maybe don’t, because just how impregnable is Tartarus, exactly?  Shigaraki was free, and if he wasn’t quite at 100%, well, Ujiko wasn’t going to be around to finish the job for a while, so there was nothing for it but to move forward, and the way forward stretched before them unobstructed.

Shigaraki still planned to tear it all down, stone from stone—if anything, his fight with the heroes in Jaku and finding out about Twice afterwards had left him even more determined.  Somehow, no one seemed to mind.  The ordeal had burned their leader clean and sharp, a light burning at the end of the universe, impossible to blot out.

Spinner had never felt more ready to take on the world.