#it’s chaos my London friends have been texting me about this

[imagine-darksiders]

Ruin and Mayhem having an absolutely smashing time in London today.

[12-seconds-to-live]

(Un)Lost: Head in the game

Pairing: F12022/3!Grid! x Fem!Driver!oc

Warnings: DNF’s, angst, a little bit of love, episodes of anxiety, Seb’s retirement, harsh words.

Pierre Gasly was curious.

No.

Pierre Gasly is the first source of gossip.

To put you into context, after the chaos coming from every garage after finished the FP2, the frechman put himself, Yuki and Charles to take a decent look into Charlottle Robyn-Jones. Neither Yuki or Charles knew where he found binoculars. In front of the Williams hospitality is the Alpha Tauri, so it’s easy to them to get the perfect spot to know everything. Almost

“I don’t like doing this Pierre. Anybody can see us. I mean... I don’t want Carlos to lecture me” started Charles

“Nobody is going to see you my friend, however, nobody can figure it out that I’m even looking into Williams” 

“You’re stupid. Your face is almost at the front of the building” said Yuki rolling his eyes. “I’m going for a snack at the hotel. Bye”

“Bye Yukino. Well Charles... You and me now” As Pierre directed the binoculars something blue blocked his spy activities.

“Having fun, don’t you?”

“Oh hey Charlotte, just looking for Red Bull secrets, you know, they are so dominant”

“Dominant?” I crossed my arms

“Yeah, Max’s the current champion and everybody’s need to learn something about being good at every race” He stand up in front of me and looking for someone. Funny thing: Red Bull’s hospitality is on the other side of the paddock.

“Well, you better start looking into other teams secrets, Gasly. Not mine, you might get scared” I winked at Pierre and with my bag in my left shoulder, I walked to my motorhome.

“At least tell me one of them!”

After Bahrain madness, as many newspapers and almost every F1 fan acknowledge, Williams started with the right foot this season. Alex and I were as happy as ever, we cannot celebrate after the race due alcohol restrictions but back in London, Lily had to deal with the drunk buddies. At least she wasn’t mad with us for being in that state, a few days later she texted me how happy she is, ‘cause Alex is.

Anyway

Back to the important stuff. 

Right now, where a bit far of the season, 9 pm and I’m waiting for Carlos, Carlos Sainz, Grand Prix winner in Silverstone. I had the chance to share the podium with him and Max. A dream come to true for both of us. His media duties and celebrations with the team last most that expected and who can’t blame them. He boy deserves it. 

But, to the other main point here, the last few races has been incredible for Williams, right now we are in the top of the standings with Red Bull two points behind, in both drivers and constructors. For being my first season is great but at the same thing, it has a lot of pressure to acomplish a lot of things in my rookie season, don’t get me wrong, I’m the type who spend almost half and hour for different points of views of the fans. I’m a good driver, but I’m a woman, I’m too good for this team or I’m so bad for the sport that has been fully dominated for men who could find any excuse to take me out of my dream.

“Hey Char” I heard Lando calling me, he’s with one of his Quadrant hoodies and a bright smile on his face. “Carlos invited me to dinner, I know you’re waiting for him”

“Yeah, he’s a bit busy celebrating” I smiled to him

“You should be doing the same. P2 is a good result too”

“I know, but I prefer to focus on the races and have a better celebration at the end of the year” I started walking with him by my side “Also, my dad’s in Spain so It’s kinda weird to do it without him”

“Yeah. You have Carlos’s parents too, they were so happy watching you on the podium. Ana was crying by the way”

I blushed and laugh “Ana is my big sister, so I get it. My dad called me and he was crying” I stopped when we arrive in the main entrance “Did you saw Toto’s interview, he might be screaming right now”

“Not only him. Any team principal would find funny that a car that has to be below P15 could overtake two Mercedes at the same time” I laugh remembering the scene. I also waved to George, my bad.

“We are full of surprises, so, I guess that you’re going to be my chauffeur to the hotel?” Lando just look at me while he starting blushing and a small giggle come out his mouth.

“That’s ok with me” I opened the door to his McLaren at put my bag on my feet. As he start the engine and the car get to the exit a few fans we’re still waiting for our goodbyes. We waved at them and started our way to the hotel.

“So tell me more about you” Lando asked

“Wikipedia isn’t enough for you?” I giggled at him

“How do you...? I mean that’s not appropiate, better face to face”

“To my or Carlos face? I know you asked him” 

“He’s not loyal anymore” 

“I’ll tell you everything you want to know if you do something for me” I turned to look at him better with a gigantic smile

“No, no, you’re not going to drive my car”

“I don’t want that. I want to see Carlos’s face when his favourite song goes on repeat in the restaurant, like God’s will”

“Oh, I can do that”

All the way to the hotel went as calm as possible with music in the background and a nice view in our way to London. I said my goodbyes to get ready for the dinner with the Sainz. I decided for a nice baby blue dress and white heels, I put on some makeup and my hair in a really nice ponytail. 40 minutes later a message from Carlos was my alert to go to the lobby. The Spaniard hug me as soon as he saw me and with a smile on his face we go to his car, his parents, sisters and Caco where waiting for us in the restaurant and Lando will be arriving a few minutes late.

As we get to our table, Reyes, Carlos’s mom received me and told me how proud she is from us. I sat next to Carlos, leaving a spot for Lando.

“So, are you coming to Austria for the race?” I asked to Carlos parents

“We’re not sure, I have to sort out a few things for a rally exhibition in Madrid and your mother is coming with me” said Carlos sr. “What about your dad? Still busy with work?”

“He is but he arrives on friday to be with me and go try to organize our schedules for our vacations” 

“Are you going to Japan or are you going to Mallorca with us?

I take a sip of my water “Yuki helped me with information for the trip, so I guess that our vacations in Mallorca might be for christmas or we could...ouch” Carlos kicked me when he first verse of his “favourite” song smooth operator started on the speakers

“It wasn’t me! Don’t be an animal” I kicked him back

“Then who?... You muppet” He said looking at Lando who was laughing at his face

“Cool song, uh”

“Not funny”

Lando sit next to me, still smiling “Wikipedia isn’t enough”

As the night went on, Carlos family, Lando and I called the night an hour later. The two drivers and I went together to the hotel. Carlos was in the 4th floor so he leave Lando and I in the elevator.

“Are you tired?” 

“Not much, why?”

“I’m thinking that we can play 20 questions to get to know each other, no?” he said with a small pout on his lips

“Even if you’re not making a puppy face I would said yes, Norris”

In the 9th floor we leave the elevator to walk to my room, as we enter, we leave our shoes by the door. I put on my PJ’s while Lando sit on the bed

“Charlotte, favourite thing to do?” 

“Mmmm Lando. Spend time with my dad and my dog, we usually walk around El Retiro, it’s a famous park in Madrid” I answered sitting next to him

“Do you have a dog? Doesn’t seem like it”

“That’s another question and I do, it’s name is Coco and it’s a Golden Retriever” I smiled “My turn... mmm...best thing since you get into F1″

Meeting you was what Lando wanted to say “Be Carlos teammate”

“Funny, we could be a better duo. Charlos is superior”

“Don’t you dare” he started tickling my ribs, we laugh for a while and when when we recover our normal breathing I continued with the questions

“Biggest fear?”

“Being late” I saw confusion on his face “We are one of the 20 fastest people on the planet but late so say I love or say goodbyes. I’m pretty bad at goodbyes”

“I’m not good either, maybe we can remind each other, so no goodbyes, just see you later, like see you at the end”

“Agree, nothing like a free assistant. So, how do you see yourself after F1?” I show a tilted smile

“Married, with kids hopefully, big backyard, a calm life, I don’t know. I guess that’s what almost everybody wanted. You?”

“I would like to have kids and tell them that their mom is a world champion, Just to make their friends jealous” I let out a sigh “And be with someone that anywhere we go, we’ll feel that we are each others home, like a jigsaw piece”

“Feel what it means to be complete...”

“I guess... be loved as much as my dad still loves my mom. He still sings her favourite songs every valentine’s day or birthday”

“Remember any of those songs?” He asked

“Yeah, I’m not a good singer but he’s always like: I close my eyes and I see your face when I'm alone I long for your embrace and I've tried to find you many times but you have faded my eyes cos' you are you are you are one of a kind Find that missing part the part that completes my heart”

“He’s in love” I nod “Someone special will come, you’re an incredible driver and woman, so, be pacient. Every love is different, one’s just prepare you for something more real, all I know is that you’ll find your missing jigsaw piece too” He said as he grabed my hand and squeezed a bit. Why am I feeling butterflies?

“Thanks Lando, now I know  why you’re Carlos favourite”

“It’s all about my looks, don’t be fooled” We laugh and keep making questions until he had to go to his room to rest.

28/07/2022

HUNGARY GP @10:40

“Netflix, guys, you’re so lovely” It’s not too early in the morning, I came early to my motorhome to continue sleeping and just be ready for interviewes at 11. Well, here I am.

“Where is your phone Charlotte?”

“In my pocket, why?” I said raising an eyebrow

“Did you know that Sebastian Vettel has instagram?” I laugh. 

I almost forget it. After the Saudi Arabia GP y spend my flight back to UK with Sebastian, while I was asking for advice for future races, he just asked me to help him create an instagram account for an special video. I guess that retirement is really special. I was shocked and almost cried but he is so confident about his decision and nobody has the right to judge him, it’s not easy to be chasing you dream without the ones you love. 

“I know, he’ll announcing his retirement at the end of the season”

“You don’t seem surprised”

“I already knew, I am sad, he’s been so important for the sport, he’ll be missed but at the same time I’m happy to spend his last season with him. When I see he around, I ask for advice, he’s a world champion after all”

“I like how you think” he write something on a paper “So far, your rookie season has been incredible, do you see yourself winning the championship?”

“I don’t want to say yes but we have to wait, everything is so umpredictable. But I hope so, that will be a great present for my mom”

“Oh...she’s proud, yes” I saw a tear falling for his eyes “Sorry”

“Don’t worry, I love to talk about her, she’s with me all the time”

31/07/2022

HUNGARY GP @14:00 

“Radio check”

“Hello? It’s me”

“I know Charlotte, I’m your engineer”

“You used to be funny, be ready, If I get on P1 I’m gonna spray the whole bottle on champagne on your face” 

He laughs “Get ready for the formation lap. 15 seconds”

“Welcome to the Hungarian GP, a very interesting front row with our rookie Charlotte Robyn-Jones and the seventh time world champion, Lewis Hamilton. Then both Red Bulls, Alex Albon, Charles Leclerc, Pierre Gasly, Fernando Alonso, Lando Norris, Carlos Sainz, Sebastian Vettel, Valteri Bottas, George Russell, Yuki Tsunoda, Daniel Ricciardo, Mick Schumacher, Kevin Magnussen, Lance Stroll, Esteban Ocon and Zhou Guanyu”

“Last race before summer vacation and then going back to the other half of the season to define the 2022 world champion. With heighest expectations for the rookie of Williams racing or the raining champion Max Verstappen, with just a few seconds for this race and it’s lights out and away we go”

With 57 of the 70 laps for this race and two safety cars later due colisions that make my teammate out of the race with Ocon, Checo and Stroll. I keep my position in P1 with Max not to far from me, but as the time passed I was getting a bit tired so I was pushing as much as ever to finish as quickly as ever.

“Verstappen 1.3 seconds behind”

“Copy. I think something happen to my water bag, at lap 41 it was empty”

“We have to check at the end of the race. Sorry Charlotte”

“Ok, at least I don't feel like going to the bathroom”

At lap 66 I saw how Max was a bit closer to me, considering that we pitted at the same time, he chasing for the cheese, aka me, was on.

“Charlotte, time to push, give them hell”

“Oh wow, new version of hammer time?”

“Don’t get me started kid”

“And the rookie do it again, what a reace. Charlotte Robyn-Jones in a very dominant Williams is a Gran Prix winner. What a season for her and her team. We see the gap she created with Verstappen, wow, only 0.09 seconds behind her and then Lewis Hamilton. We have to wait to the Belgium GP to see how the teams improve their cars ‘cause as far as I see, this is Williams year”

“Get ready Adam! You’re going to sleep with the essense of champions tonight!”

“Congrats Charlotte, what a race!” Multiple people cheering can be heard over the radio, all the members of the team happy as she get through the chekered flag.

“Love you team! This is for Alex too, this is our year!” 

I parked my car in front of the number 1 sign, I unbuckle the belts and get of the car, Max and Lewis give fist bumps, then I run to hug the members of the team. A very happy Carlos pat my back and said well done girasol. Lando, who just get off his car, run to me and hug me and we helped each other with our helmets, as I took off my balaclava, I dedicated him a winked

“Do you like the view of my rear wing?”

“I preffer the view I saw everytime you smile in the podium” For a moment I feel out of breath, he is the one. 

We smile at each other

“Hope to share it with you, to enjoy the same view” I cannot hear his answer ‘cause Ava pull my arm to do the interview before the podium celebrations so I waved to him. What’s this feeling? 

LATER WITH NETFLIX

“Do you have any conversations for next year? Your team principal said that Williams isn’t going to offer you another contract even if you win the championship. You have multiple options, Ricciardo, Gasly and Vettel’s seat”

“That’s a secret for Abu Dabi, too much gossip is not healthy guys”

“So...anything to say?”

“Want a hint?”

“Yes, please” I smiled looking to the camera

“Enchanté”

Hi! Thanks for the support on this story/series. English it’s not my first language but I try my best, anyway, enjoy, I got inspired and If you have requests for any driver, I’m open to them. I’m still organizing this story considering that I’m going full mode with Lando and trying to put together the main topic of this <<<something so sad>>>, as I said, enjoy and have a nice day/night :)

Taglist: @evans-dejong @omgsuperstarg @bibissparkles @hoely-maria @mochimommy2002 @noope306 @eugene-emt-roe​ @80sloverry​ @rens-daylight​

intro

part one

[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

TEMPORARY THINGS, chapter 1

March 2022

The seatbelt chime dinged, signaling your arrival at Gate 43--at least that’s the number the pilot had mumbled through his headset upon your departure for Heathrow. 

Six hours overnight, not terrible overall. But the crappy neck pillow you bought back at JFK wasn’t much of a sleep aid, and neither was the weed gummy you’d popped and swallowed in the backseat of the car that arrived to whisk you to the airport. 

A flight attendant reaches for your carryon overhead, you smile and trail behind others onto the jetway. Warmer than New York, you could already tell, but only by a little. 

It dawns on you, as you read the overhead signs and weave through crowds of passengers, that your sleepless red-eye was likely due to the nerves that had been keeping you up all week. 

Had you made a terrible mistake?

No. Probably not, right? 

Carousel 21 is already littered with familiar faces when you get there--the guy from 3F that asked for headphones a whole ten seconds before take off, the woman in 5A who downed about four gin and tonics before the flight was even halfway across the Atlantic. 

You find a spot to stand and try to breathe in through your nose, out through your mouth. Maybe it was the time change, or maybe it was the fact that both of your feet were now firmly planted on London soil, a whole 3 weeks after this idea had been broached over burrata and Barolo. 

Not the amount of time you usually put into giant, possibly life-changing decisions to move to a new country and start over.

Maggie promised you’d be okay. She swore up and down and back and forth that if you’d handled this type of celebrity before, you could do it again. Hell, you’d handled bigger celebrities, so this should be a cake walk!, she said. And she was someone you could trust. She knew the ins and outs of this world and she knew you well enough to know that this type of chaos was enough to jolt some happiness back into your bitter soul.

An unforeseen break up after six years together will do that to someone. 

So here you are, startled by the aggressive sound of the buzzer when the belt starts moving. 3F grabs his suitcase and makes a beeline for the door. At least you’re not the only one desperate to get out of the stuffy airport. 

And that’s when you hear her yell your name--way too loud for barely 7am in Heathrow and way too loud if either of you had any hopes of blending in. Two Americans were bad enough. Two noisy Americans? 

She trots over to you with excitement, her arms wrap around your neck before you can even mutter a greeting in response. 

“Your mom texted my mom already and I promised photographic evidence,” she pulls away and you smile, being in Maggie’s presence is immediately calming, analgesic to the unease that set in once you reached thirty thousand feet. 

You force a dramatic smile, throw up a peace sign and pose for the camera. She giggles to herself and presses send, stuffing her phone in her pocket in the exact moment that your suitcase appears from the underbelly of the airport. 

“I’ve got it,” she calls again, still too loud. She runs and tugs it off with a grunt, and you laugh again, too, thankful for the distraction of your oldest friend. 

Maggie’s mom and your mom went to college together. Then they married each of your dads and then the two of you came along (Maggie in ‘92 and you in ‘93) and the rest is history. Your early childhood was spent building forts in her basement and by middle school, your favorite pastime was tricking your little sister and her little brother into makeovers. 

She brushes her hair out of her face, stands upright, and takes one look at you. “Okay, tell me everything.”

So you climb in the back of an Uber, Maggie nods and listens intently to details that you hadn’t shared before over facetime. Like the fight you had on your birthday last year, the way he slowly started telling you less and less about work, then friends, the way you should have seen it coming.

Maggie knew your ex, obviously. They got along overall but now she let her lip curl into an expression of disgust, her usual attempt to turn a shitty situation into something to laugh about. 

“What a dumb fucking asshole, Y/N, seriously. I never liked his stupid job or that stupid name,” she turns up the theatrics, a roll of her eyes when she commits to the bit. 

You smile a little, thankful for the 8 weeks that have since passed and the thousands of miles that now stood between you and him, literally. Both of those things made it easier to ignore the stinging in your eyes when his name came up. 

“He’s dumb,” you agree, a swift nod before you take another glance out the window. The London suburbs turn more urban, flats and parks and people on the sidewalks when she reaches over to squeeze your knee with force.

“But now you’re single and in London and your best friend in the whole world got you an amazing temp gig,” she flattered herself and grinned, a text illuminated her screen before she opened it. 

“Which, by the way, I have to be on set around 9am, so I’m dropping you off and then I have to go. But you’ll swing by? I told Jason you’d come for lunch--you know, meet everyone you need to meet.”

“Sure,” you nod, the casual mention of your new boss makes your pulse quicken slightly, you swallow and ignore it. Not your first rodeo. In fact, your lengthy resume that listed all the previous rodeos was surely part of the reason you landed this slightly nepotistic arrangement in the first place.

That and the fact that Maggie was a mid-level producer on the show, had known one of the head writers from a different project, and once upon a time dated one of Jason’s close friends. 

Pair that with your life and career practically exploding when you got dumped with no notice and within only a few weeks you had a first class ticket to London. Maggie called it magic. You called it an impulsive--and possibly irrational--decision.

But whatever. You needed work and a fresh start and hanging out at your parents’ house was getting boring, anyway. 

The car pulls to a stop and the driver helps you out onto the gray sidewalk. Maggie keys in for you and says she came to see the place with a friend to scope it out, you know, since she hadn’t done enough for you recently. 

“Okay, so obviously I got you the best thing I could find in his price limit. This location is great. Same neighborhood as moi,” she flutters her lashes. “A nine minute walk, a four minute jog.”

“Same neighborhood as my boss?” You ask, the real reason your location matters.

It was common practice for assistants to live within a 10-minute radius of their boss. Late night snack? Scheduling emergency? Your job was to meet those needs. Your job was also to handle his schedule, and to--you know--assist in whatever way he asks. 

You’d climbed the latter a bit after starting out in LA in 2012. Previous clientele included one of the Real Housewives, Reese Witherspoon, and, most recently: the famous wife of a Los Angeles Laker. 

You like this job. You liked most of the people. You loved the friends you made and the places you got to travel. And since finally crossing the Executive Assistant threshold in 2019, the pay was killer, the perks were better, and no longer spent most of your time fetching coffees or doing grunt work. 

“Of course,” Maggie rolls her eyes before checking a text message. “And I told him you’re the greatest EA he’ll ever have, he lives on the street behind this one, number 82. You can practically see into his house from your bedroom window.”

You shoot Maggie a glare, glance out the window when she throws a thumb in that direction and mentions his house. “Great.”

She holds your gaze for a second, like she’s reading your mind or something. “Wasn’t the whole point of you coming to London so you’d stop being depressed?”

You mock her childishly, voice high and annoying, “wasn’t the whole point--”

“Okay,” she holds up a hand. “Insensitive on my part,” she admits. “But you know I just want you to be okay?”

She watches you for a moment, her features soften and she blinks a few times, almost like she was unsure if you were broken altogether, with your life stuffed into the suitcase between you. 

You force a smile and open your arms. “When shit hits the fan there’s no place I’d rather be than in a foreign country with you.”

She bounces over and hugs you again, “that’s what I thought!”

**

The March air is cold, the sky’s gotten gloomier with each passing hour and eventually you had to force yourself to leave the house when you tried on your third consecutive outfit. Is there a right or wrong thing to wear on the set of a TV show? You have no clue.

Maggie met you outside a giant building at 1 o’clock sharp--one on the outskirts of town with giant parking lots and film trailers. She used a keycard to swipe in and said your first stop would be the security desk to obtain your own.

Once that was handled she led you down a maze of hallways, pointing out rooms and departments and providing information you knew you’d never retain. But that was fine, because when she pushes open the door to the main sound stage, your eyes go wide.

She watches you take it in, a smile on her face. “Pretty dope, right?”

“I mean, I knew it had to be a good gig if you got you to leave LA,” you tease. 

The room is buzzing with energy. People with headsets carry out missions, walkie-talkies beep and a woman with short brown hair smiles when she sees Maggie. 

“Mag—Brett wanted to talk about a re-write for scene 4, he was over near catering with Brendan.”

“Do you know where Jason is?” Maggie asks the woman, not bothering to introduce the two of you yet. 

“Upstairs, I think--”

“In his office,” a man clarifies when he walks by—in a rush. 

You look up at Maggie, unsure what the right move is.

She looks at the woman with short brown hair and then back at you. “Brave enough to go up there alone since I’m needed for script?”

Yes, of course, fine. You nod quickly and hope Maggie can’t see the fear in your eyes. Something told you she did, but soon she bounces off with Short Brown Hair behind her. 

It takes only a few seconds for you to realize that standing by the door alone looks more awkward than if you, too, move around this giant room like you knew where you were going or what you were doing. You saw another door in the corner, took off in that direction when someone else opened it and you caught a glimpse of stairs. 

That was a start. 

You make your way up one flight and open the door, windows in the hallway look down onto the stage, a better view of the overall set: a locker room, offices, a hallway, a tiny and fictional world with no roof that was born from someone’s imagination. 

You’d watched as a proud friend, never finished the first season after a busy week and an overall disinterest in new TV shows. 

A name plate on the door to your right confirms you’re getting warmer. A few dark offices, then the sound of humming pulls you down the hall to the only room with an open door. 

His name on a piece of paper taped to the wall in bold font, you hold your breath for a second and knock, stepping into view when you hear his voice. 

“What are your thoughts on flowers? Is that, like, too weird?” he looks up, eyebrows lifted when he realizes you’re not the person he expects. 

Standing in front of him suddenly makes you nervous, mostly because you don’t have Maggie by your side to smooth over this awkward moment. You roll with it, your best at your service smile.

“Assuming you’re talking as a gift…thoughtful, somewhat overdone,” you offer an apologetic grimace, “but simple and shows you care. Who are they for?”

He smiles at your answer, leans back in his chair and nods. You were killing it, right? Assisting before a formal introduction? You’re already excited to brag about it to Maggie tonight over a glass of Merlot. 

A tingle down your spine when he laughs a little. “A welcome gift, yeah…for my new assistant.”

“Oh,” you nod, a tiny smirk in surprise when you realize you know something he doesn’t. “Then I’d do tulips.”

Now he leans forward and puts his elbows on his desk. A smirk that he tries to hide when he lets his eyes settle on yours. Is he…flirting? “What makes you say that?”

You shrug casually, “they’re my favorite flowers…and I’m Y/N.” 

“Fuck, hi, sorry—“ he stands from his chair quickly, awkward and embarrassed as he tries to hide his surprise with a smile and extended hand. “I’m Jason. You’re Y/N,” he nods, saying it more to himself than to you. 

“I am,” you smile, watching as he rounds the corner of his desk to shake on it. “Nice to meet you--the set down there is really awesome.”

He smiles, the release of his shoulders tells you he’s glad to move past whatever just happened. His eyes follow your gesture out into the hallway and onto the stage floor. A nod, a quick glance in your direction. “Thank you, yeah—can’t believe we’re already filming again.”

“Hiiii,” Maggie’s voice sounds from the door, a cheerful grin on her face when you both turn to see her. “I see I’m not needed for an introduction,” she waves her hands around and flits her fingers in your direction.

“No, yeah, Maggie--come in,” Jason moves back to sit at his desk, which, you now realize, is just a folding chair at a folding table with a laptop. A couch along the side wall, a mini fridge in the corner and papers and red pens strewn about the table. 

Got it, a makeshift office up here since he was the guy in charge. You wondered where Maggie’s main post was, and you notice that she now has a headset around her neck and a clipboard in hand. 

“Jason, I’m very glad you get to meet my oldest friend, Y/N L/N,” she comes to put her arms around your neck, sloppy kisses to your hairline to show the unbreakable bond. “She’s the reason I work in this field to begin with and I expect that the two of you will be thick as thieves in no time.”

He smiles at that a little, lets his eyes meet yours briefly when Maggie reaches up to pinch your cheek. You swat her away, skin still prickling from the way he smiles at you. 

Maggie was obviously comfortable with him, which you gather when she flops down on the couch and a voice comes through the headset. She pushes it into her ear to get a better listen.

“Few things for you,” Jason points in your direction and searches for something on the table. A three-ring binder after he shuffles through papers, tiny black font that reads Exec. Asst stares back at you when he hands it over. 

“Jessie made this…before her maternity leave,” he informs. “Briony’s here somewhere and she’ll go through it with you, but--based on everything Maggie’s said, I’m sure you’ll jump right in.”

Right, Jessie. The woman whose job you were filling for the filming of this season due to the baby that was about to pop out of her. Briony--no idea who that was--but you make a mental note to bug Maggie for details later. 

A sound buzzes from the hallway, an alarm or something of the sort. Both Maggie and Jason perk up at the sound, you recognize it as some sort of cue that the set will soon be an active filming zone. Maggie stands from her casual position and smiles, “I can bring you around downstairs and introduce you to people, since he’s about to be busy.”

“Perfect,” you nod, a quick glance at Jason to see if that kind of thing is allowed. He doesn’t seem to notice that you’re looking for permission, he smiles when your eyes meet again but then reaches for his phone. 

“Oh, wait--here,” he hands it over, an open new contact page on the screen. You type in your name and number and figure that this will be your main form of communication, instead of the emails with Jessie and Maggie and his manager. 

You hand it back when you’re done, he glances down at the screen--was he checking to make sure you really put it in? Maggie’s nose is in her walkie-talkie again, replying to some kind of garbled request.

“She will report back when I am done with her, Sir!” Maggie salutes in jest and Jason cracks a laugh, a sliver of anxiety melting once her elbow links with yours and she tugs you out of the room. 

You meet set designers and the props team and then hair and make up. You meet the Brett you’d already heard about and get an intro to Briony when she shows up with coffee around 2pm.

Maggie eventually relented to your incessant reminders: Monday was your real first day. For now you had every right to sleep and try to get your body and brain to remember they were on the same continent. Which is why, and probably the only reason why, she eventually let you dip out.

The uber ride home is longer thanks to afternoon traffic, your head is pounding and the king sized bed in your new flat is calling your name before you can even twist the knob. But your nap gets delayed by a knock on the door when you’re rummaging for a sweatshirt in your suitcase. 

You pull it open, sure that whoever is on the other side has the wrong apartment or wrong person altogether. You’re way too new for visitors. 

But it’s not a human, not at first. Instead, a vase of yellow tulips--and a delivery man who smiles from behind them in greeting, happy Friday!, before he leaves you to open the card taped to the side. 

I heard these are overdone. Oh well. Welcome to London - JS

table of contents | talk to me

AN: Hi friends! I've been sitting on the start of this story for a few months and have been v excited to start sharing what I have so far! I do not have a post schedule for this, nor do I know how long it will be, nor is it finished at this time. As I've mentioned recently, I'm focusing a lot more on writing for FUN, so your patience and general kindness is appreciated as I share my writing for free with everyone! There also will not be a tag list for this story but it's table of contents will be pinned on my blog! My inbox is (usually) always open!

But also, I'm so fucking pumped to share this and be able to chat with all of my internet pals about our favorite middle aged man.

[slutty-transformation-stories]

The Trip

"You're going to love it, I promise," Rachel said, her voice bubbling with excitement over the phone. She was packing her bag, her eyes darting from her open suitcase to the list of items she had meticulously typed out on her laptop.

"Yeah, I'm sure I will," Tom replied, trying to match her enthusiasm. Rachel had won a weekend trip to London in an online trivia contest. It was a chance for her to explore the city she had read so much about in her favorite books and a well-deserved break from her rigorous college schedule. Rachel was the quintessential nerd, her glasses perpetually perched on her nose as she devoured knowledge like it was going out of style.

The weekend came and went with no word from Rachel. At first, Tom wasn't too concerned; she was probably just busy with the sights. But as Sunday evening rolled around and she still hadn't checked in, a knot began to form in his stomach. He tried calling her, but the line went straight to voicemail. He sent text after text, but they remained unread.

Tom waited anxiously for Rachel's flight to land, checking the airline's flight status every few minutes. When the plane was delayed, he felt a flicker of hope that maybe she was just stuck in the airport, caught up in the chaos of travel. But when the flight finally arrived and Rachel wasn't on it, panic began to set in. He called her family, her friends, anyone who might know where she was. No one had heard from her.

The days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months. Rachel's disappearance was a complete mystery. The London police did their best, but without any leads, the case grew cold. Tom couldn't shake the feeling that something terrible had happened. Rachel was too responsible to just vanish without a trace. He couldn't bear the thought of her being hurt or scared, out there alone in a foreign city.

On the one-year anniversary of Rachel's disappearance, Tom's phone buzzed with a text message. The sender was Rachel's number, but the message was unlike anything he could have expected. "Hi baby, I missed you but I'm happy here now. I get so much dick so don't send anyone else to get me." His heart raced as he clicked on the attached photo. The girl in the picture looked like Rachel, but she was unrecognizable. Her black hair was now blonde, her skin tan, and her eyes no longer needed the glasses that had once been a part of her identity. Her face was plump with fillers, and her body had been transformed. She was smiling, surrounded by a group of tough-looking men with tattoos and gold chains. The words in the text were a slap in the face, a taunt from a world he didn't understand.

The Rachel he knew would never say something like that. The Rachel he knew was sweet, kind, and innocent. The Rachel in the photo looked like a completely different person. Tom felt a mix of anger, sadness, and fear. He had to find out what had happened to her. This wasn't just about her being missing anymore; it was about saving her from whatever hell she was living in.

He called the number immediately, but it was disconnected. The only thing left was the photo, a haunting reminder of what Rachel had become.

Thank you for all the support. I will say this is my own twist on a caption I believe I saw a long time ago. I'm not sure where it was from.

[canirove]

Best friends… forever? | Chapter 26

Previous chapter | Next chapter

Masterlist

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"Finally!" Mila says, letting herself fall on the bed. "I thought we weren't going to make it."

"Same" Rúben says, lying next to her. "We should have chosen Ibiza instead of Croatia for our holidays. Less trouble."

"Ibiza is boring. And seeing our luck today, I'm sure we would have had the same problems" she laughs.

"Probably, yes."

"I'm gonna text my mum and tell her we made it safe and sound. What was the Wifi password?"

"Luka Modric ten, the L and M with capital letters, the ten with numbers."

"That guy got so excited when he recognized you. Rúben Dias, oh my God!" Mila says, typing on her phone. "You always are so cute with all the fans."

"Because I am cute" he says, hugging her the same way she always hugs him, with an arm and a leg over her.

"You actually are, yes" she says, turning her head to kiss him. "Oh, wow."

"That good was that kiss?" Rúben laughs.

"Idiot” Mila chuckles. “I was talking about my notifications, they are going wild. I have like... twenty missed calls from my agent. A few from yours. And so many texts from... Literally everyone."

"That's odd."

"Very" she says, her phone ringing on her hand. "Oh, remind me to change my ringtone. I hate it."

"But I picked it for you!" Rúben says.

"Exactly" she smirks. "Hey, what happened?"

"Finally, Mila! Where the hell have you been?" her agent asks her over facetime.

"Having a really bad day. Our flight from London got delayed twice, then we missed the car that was driving us to the town where we are staying, the one we managed to get had problems with a tire... We literally just made it to the house."

"And why was your phone turned off?"

"Oh, that's another problem we've had. Our data isn't working, I'm using the house's WiFi."

"Then you have no idea about what is going on."

"Did something happen?" Rúben asks.

"Yeah, just a little something like The Sun posting a video of you two kissing at the Etihad."

"They what?" Mila and Rúben say at the same time, sitting up on the bed.

"What you just heard."

"Holy shit" Mila says.

"How has it been? Too much chaos?" Rúben asks.

"Not really. Most people have had the same reaction we all had when you told us: it was about damn time. I've been discussing it with your agent, and we think it's best if we say nothing. There are no bad reactions beyond the tantrums from your fans who hate Mila, and it hasn't made it to many other news outlets. I'm sorry to say this, but you guys aren't interesting enough."

"Shame" Rúben laughs. "So we just... Keep going with our lives as if nothing happened?"

"Basically" Mila's agent shrugs. "Just do whatever you feel comfortable with. If you want to keep things quiet for a while, do it. If you want to post each other on social media like you always do, keep doing it. And if you want to make it Instagram official, we aren't stopping you either."

"Ok" Mila sighs. "But do we know who sold that video?"

"No idea, they aren't saying a word. Did you see anyone that day after the game? You are inside, and Rúben still is wearing his kit."

"Oh... Oh!" Mila says, hitting Rúben in the arm.

"Ouch! What now?"

"Sasha!"

"Sasha?" he asks.

"She saw us kissing! And she had her phone on her hand, she dropped it, and that's how we noticed her. We didn't see anyone else, just her."

"Why would Sasha sell a video of us kissing?"

"Maybe because she hates me? And now the paparazzis waiting for us outside the restaurant when we went out with her and Jack, make sense. She looked that good on the photos because she knew where they were!"

"Wait a minute" Mila's agent says. "Sasha as in Jack Grealish's girlfriend? You think it was her?"

"Yes!"

"Mila, that's... That's crazy. She would never do something like that" Rúben says.

"Well, she's my number one suspect."

"I'll make some calls tomorrow and see if I can find out anything else. For now, you guys just enjoy your holidays, don't let this ruin them for you."

"We will, don't worry" Rúben smiles.

"Good night, guys."

"Bye" Mila says, hanging up. "But I'm telling you, it was her."

"And I'm telling you it could have been anyone. We were a bit busy in case you don't remember, and someone could have walked behind us and we wouldn't have noticed. We didn't notice her until she dropped her phone."

"That's true" Mila says, biting her lower lip.

"Listen, why don't we eat something and go to bed, uh? You must be exhausted."

"I actually am, yes" she sighs. "A good night of sleep will definitely do me good."

"And it will make you stop with all these conspiracy theories."

"It is not a conspiracy theory."

"Isn't it?" Rúben asks, arching an eyebbrow.

"Shut up" she replies, putting her hand on his face. "Ouch!"

"I'm hungry and you taste too good" he says with a mischievous smile, grabbing her hand and starting to bite her little finger.

"You are crazy, Rúben" Mila laughs.

"For you? Yes, I'm totally crazy."

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"Mila, what are you doing?"

"Breakfast!" she says, showing Rúben the pan where she is cooking.

"And your clothes?"

"What do you mean?"

"You are only wearing your knickers."

"When there are 40° outside at 9 a.m., these are considered clothes."

"If you say so..."

"I do" she says, flipping the omelet she's making while humming some random song. Humming while moving her hips from side to side, and making Rúben feel... Things.

"Do you still believe it was Sasha the one who sold the video?" he asks, trying to think of anything but Mila's butt.

"After watching the video a few times I'm convinced it was her."

"Really?"

"Yep" she says, picking a plate from the cupboard next to her head, stretching her body in a way that makes Rúben start to feel a bit uncomfortable with his.

"I just don't see the reason why she would do it."

"She's always disliked me and wants to ruin my relationship because she's unhappy on hers" Mila says, turning to look at Rúben, the plate covering her chest.

"You should put on a t-shirt on or something."

"Why?" she laughs, going back to her cooking. "We are alone, this is a private villa. And besides, you always walk around just on your boxers. Why can't I do the same? Why are your boobs allowed to be seen and mine not?"

"Because yours are way more interesting to look at than mine, and they can cause an accident."

"I have to disagree with that. People online go crazy when you show them. They call you Booben for a reason."

"They do what?" Rúben laughs.

"You didn't know?" Mila says, putting the plate with his breakfast in front of him. Even on holidays, he still eats the same.

"I did not."

"Well, now you do. What do you fancy as a drink? Juice or water?"

"I..."

"Rúben... Hey" she says, clicking her fingers in front of his face. "My eyes aren't there."

"I told you your boobs were more interesting to look at than mine" he smirks.

"You should be used to them by now."

"I don't think that'll be possible. Ever."

"This is going to be my outfit this summer, so..." she says, picking up a couple of water bottles and her breakfast and sitting next to him.

"I'll have to try, then" he sighs.

"Good. If you show your boobs, I show mine too."

"Seems fair" Rúben laughs. "But even if I try my hardest, seeing you like this may have its consequences."

"Consequences?"

"I may not be able to keep my hands from you for too long. Especially if you start moving your hips the way you were a minute ago."

"Who? Me?" Mila says, taking a bite and trying to hide a smile. By now she knows perfectly well how much Rúben likes her hips and her butt. If she wants him to do something, she knows exactly how to motivate him.

"Yes, you. So stop teasing me" he says, threatening her with his fork.

"Ok. I'll tell my inner Shakira to chill."

"Good. But she can come back after breakfast if she wants."

And she did. She came back after breakfast, and a few more times through the day.

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[weepingfromacedartree]

Ten Milestones: Babysitting

Chapter 8 is up! Hope you enjoy the brief break from all the angst 😄

“Number Six: Babysitting As a Team. Just like —”

“Wait,” Penelope interrupts, once again not quite believing her ears. “I thought we were discussing the precursors of marriage, not childrearing.”

“Must you debate every point, Pen?” 

She considers his question. Briefly. 

“I didn’t debate the last one. This one just seems… outdated.”

“How do you mean?”

“Well… We may both want children, but not every couple does. Why would they need to babysit before getting married?”

“Well, if you would let me finish,” Colin grumbles, raising his phone so it sits a few inches away from his face again. (Silently, Penelope makes a mental note to remind him to book a much-needed optometrist appointment.)

“Just like travel, young children can cause more chaos and uncertainty than you could ever imagine. One night of babysitting with your partner will test your stress management and teamwork skills in vital, unforeseen ways. Do not be surprised (or discouraged) if there is a mess to be had along the way.” 

With a laugh, Penelope concedes that the writer of this article may have a point. 

“That last bit is quite accurate, if memory serves.”

“Hey,” Colin mutters sorely, looking up from his phone. “Give me a little credit.” 

All his words succeed in doing is drawing another laugh from Penelope’s lips. 

-------------------------------------------------------------------

Four Years Earlier: August 25th, 2019

Relationship Status: Team Mates

꙳

About a year ago, Colin and Benedict moved into a flat together in Bloomsbury. Most friends and family members describe the building as “charming,” which is a polite way of saying “beautiful, but old.” It’s for this reason that Penelope takes the stairs up to the third floor tonight, instead of the lift. (The stairs are always faster.)

About a month ago, Penelope moved into a new flat in Hyde Park. When helping her move in, Colin had described it as “quaint,” which is a polite way of saying “old, but also quite small.” In fairness, she didn’t have much of a choice in her new building or its location. She had previously been living with Eloise, but when her best friend moved to Edinburgh for her Masters program, Penelope was hit by the realisation that she was not ready to live on her own for the first time in her life. When her coworker Geneveive mentioned she was looking for someone to fill a spare room, she jumped at the chance. 

It had taken them two whole days to move a couple of boxes from one flat to another. During that time, Colin made a few remarks regarding the “safety” of her neighbourhood, despite it being quieter and far more residential than the one she was leaving. (Which left Penelope with the impression that Colin had viewed Eloise more as a bodyguard than roommate in the two years they shared a flat together.) In the beginning, she brushed off his comments. By the end, she compromised. 

“Just text ‘SOS’ and I’ll run over, no questions asked,” he had told her. “And if I’m not in the city, I’ll dispatch one of my many siblings who are here to be at your assistance.” 

At the time, Penelope had found the system too endearing to point out that the number of Bridgertons in London has been dwindling as of late. Francesca and Eloise are both in Edinburgh now. Gregory is set to leave for Cambridge in a matter of days. Daphne and Simon retain a flat in the city, but spend far more time in their Hastings estate. And while Benedict and Colin both pay an exorbitant rate for their flat every month, neither one seems to spend much time actually sleeping there.

While endearing, Penelope also found the “SOS” system gratuitous. She hadn’t used it once in the past 25 days. Twenty minutes ago, though, Colin had. 

She doesn’t bother knocking. Her set of spare keys have been gripped in her left hand since she left her flat. She raises them now, but before she can reach the lock, the door swings open. 

Colin is standing on the other side. There’s a toddler on his hip.

“Auggie?!” Penelope explains mindlessly, stepping through the doorway. Instinctually, she gently brushes a hand over his little head. If anything is the matter, the sixteen-month-old does not let on. Giggling, he raises both arms and grabs madly for one of her red curls. 

Heart still beating in her ears, she turns her attention back to the only other adult in the room. “What’s wrong? What happened?” she asks, her words shooting out quick. Colin opens his mouth to answer, but before he can, Penelope’s heart lurches in her chest. 

Auggie is here instead of with his parents. Daphne is currently eight months pregnant with his little sister. Colin sent her an emergency text. If Auggie is here…

“I was —”

“Fuck,” she interrupts, not really meaning to. “Is Daphne okay? Is the baby —”

Colin cuts her off by placing his free hand on her shoulder. He squeezes it gently, as he tends to do when he notices her spiralling out in front of him. 

“Woah, Pen.” He laughs lightly, then lets his arm drop. “The baby’s fine. Daph is fine. She and Simon are out celebrating their anniversary.” 

“Oh.” 

Penelope nods slowly, suddenly hit with the memory of attending their wedding two years ago today. She should have remembered this date, but…

“Then why did you text me ‘SOS?’”

In response, Colin throws her a look that screams “Isn’t it obvious?” and lifts his nephew up a little higher in the air. Auggie, for his part, appears unphased. He continues staring up at Penelope with wide, happy eyes. 

With a grimace, she asks, “Is there something wrong with him?” He seems well enough, but why else would —

“He’s fine. I just needed help babysitting.”

“Colin!” 

She didn’t mean to shriek his name — not in such close proximity to the toddler. But her blood is boiling. Her blood has been boiling for the last twenty minutes. 

“What —”

“If you weren’t using that innocent, defenceless child as a shield, I would punch you.” 

With that, she tucks her hands beneath Auggie’s armpits and pulls him out of his uncle’s grasp. (If given another reason to strike, at least she has her legs free to kick.)

Colin laughs, which really doesn’t help Penelope’s temperament. 

“Pen —”

“You scared the shit out of —”

She cuts herself off, looking down at the toddler in her arms. He remains unphased, staring up at her happily, but she offers him a silent apology for cursing, nonetheless. Turning her attention back to the so-called adult…

“Why, again, did you feel the need to summon me here so urgently?” 

“I’m sorry! Daphne and Simon needed a sitter and all of the responsible adults in the family were busy! Mum is at Danbury’s conference. Anthony is on his honeymoon. Fran is babysitting Eloise in Edinburgh. Benedict’s on a date — although I’m not sure he actually counts as one of the ‘responsible —”

“Colin! I thought someone died! SOS texts are meant for emergencies!” 

“I’m sorry!” he exclaims again. This time, Penelope can’t help but hear a tiny laugh escape his mouth as he says it. “I’m not used to taking care of a human this small. I —”

“What are you talking about?” she interrupts, incredulous. “You have five younger siblings? How —”

“In case you forgot, Hyacinth is a teenager now. I’m a bit out of practice.” 

“Still —”

“I’m sorry,” he says a third time, calmer now. “I just needed your help to ensure that this innocent, defenceless child doesn’t turn into an emergency. He’s so small and —” Briefly, he tears his eyes away from hers and down to Auggie. “No offence — grossly incompetent.”

If Penelope were in a better mood, she probably would have laughed at that. 

“I’m just not used to taking care of someone who needs 24/7 attention just to stay alive. And since you’re a responsible, nice, calming presence, I thought you would be the best person for the job.”

When Colin finally quiets, Penelope looks down at the emergency-waiting-to-happen in her arms. He’s giggling and playing with a strand of her hair. 

After a moment, Penelope looks back up. She takes a breath. Summoning some great, far away strength, she tries her hardest to let the annoyance and panic still coursing through her body fade away. Then, she puts the small child back into the arms of his uncle. 

“He’s a toddler, Colin, not a bomb. He is not going to combust if you take your eyes off of him for a second.”

“I never said —”

“And next time you find yourself in a non-emergency situation that requires my assistance, just send a normal text like a normal person.”

Colin chuckles, bouncing Auggie in the air. 

“My hands were full. Literally. Sending a three-letter text is actually quite efficient for these types of scenarios.” 

Penelope laughs at that. It’s barely a smile and breath of air from her nose, but still, she laughs. And the world is set right again. 

꙳ ꙳ ꙳

As the hours passed by tonight, the origin of Colin’s SOS text only became more of a mystery in Penelope’s mind. All through dinner, playtime, two diaper changes, and bedtime, Auggie proved to be a perfectly well-mannered toddler. Despite his claims of inexperience, Penelope still finds it hard to believe Colin ever viewed him as a potential emergency. Especially now. It’s been an hour since Auggie fell asleep in his little travel bassinet and he hasn’t stirred even once. (Even with his babysitters’ ceaseless, increasingly bizarre conversation on the couch a few feet away from where he rests.)

“When was the last time you were alone with a baby?”

“Hmmm… Hyacinth, I suppose?” 

“You don’t sound so sure of yourself.” 

“Need I remind you that she’s a teenager now? It’s been a while.” 

Penelope nods, a pleasant hum of agreement in her throat. She assumes the subject is ready to pass, but then Colin clears his throat and continues it.

“Plus, I spent way more time alone with baby Gregory than I ever did with baby Hyacinth.”

“Really?” 

“Yeah. Actually —” 

Colin cuts himself off with a laugh, running a hand across his brow. Though they were already sitting quite close, he leans in a few inches before continuing, a conspiratorial smile shining on his face. 

“Can I tell you something I’ve never told anyone before?”

Ignoring the butterflies in her stomach, she shrugs. “Of course.”

“When Greg was a baby and I was about eight, I used to sneak into his room at night after everyone else went to sleep. To check if he was actually breathing.” 

“Oh! That’s… sweet,” she says with a bit of hesitancy. She can’t imagine why something like that would be kept a secret for so many years. Or why it would cause such a wicked smile to appear on his lips now.

“No. It was more out of suspicion than sweetness.” 

“Suspicion?” Penelope echos, dumbfounded. “You were suspicious of an infant?” 

Barely containing his laugh, Colin nods. 

“Yeah. He was just so quiet. He never cried at night — or during the day, for that matter. The only reason I snuck into his nursery was to catch him in the act. To prove that he wasn’t a real boy.”

Those last few words catch Penelope off guard. Immediately, they bring forth a laugh from her chest that sounds more like a shriek than anything else. Immediately after that, her eyes glance to Auggie, expecting him to wake with a shriek of his own. But he doesn’t. He remains still. 

Catching her breath…

“A ‘real boy?’ Like Pinnochio?” 

This time, it’s Colin who appears caught off guard by his own laughter. 

“Kinda,” he eventually says. “But I wasn’t concerned about him secretly being a wooden doll as much as I was him being a robot. If I recall correctly, I believe my working theory was that he was so quiet at night because they had to plug him in and charge him for the day.”

Penelope, who has lost all ability to keep quiet, giggles giddily as Colin asks, “And frankly, Pen… You’ve met Greg. Can you really rule out the possibility that he’s controlled by AI?” 

“You’re awful,” she claims while desperately trying to wipe the undying grin from her face. 

The entire left side of her body is brushing against him now, but that isn’t her fault. It isn’t her fault that he’s making her laugh so hard that she can’t control where her knees and shoulders land as she sways into him. It isn’t her fault that she can’t keep her usual mindful distance. 

That’s become an increasingly common occurrence lately, though. So perhaps Colin can’t carry all the blame. 

For so many years following that night in Fife’s back garden, Penelope had kept Colin’s unfortunate overheard words hidden within herself under lock and key. She was so sure that if she ever spilled them back to Colin, her true feelings for him would inadvertently be cast into the light as well. She thought telling him the truth would prompt disaster — the end of them forever. 

But it didn’t. 

After she drunkenly spilled her guts to a stranger (and incidentally, Colin) in Catalonia, Penelope kept waiting for him to bring it up again. To ask why she was so hurt by what he said. Why his words stayed with her for so many years. Why she hurled them back at him like a weapon that night. 

But he didn’t. 

After that night, they watched a sunrise. They got on a plane. They came home. He left again. He came and left a few more times throughout the year. Through all of it, neither Colin nor Penelope brought the incident up again. She doesn’t know why, but she doesn’t question it either. 

(If she did, she would probably land on the reasonable explanation. That there is no point in asking questions you already knew the answer to. That Colin already connected the dots — that he had told the girl who loved him that he would never love her back.)

(Never — not in a million years — would she ever be able to land on the completely unreasonable, but also completely true reason. That Colin has been too caught up in his own feelings to be able to look at the issue objectively. To see what was right before his very eyes.)

Penelope is happy. She and Colin are friends again. Real friends, perhaps for the first time in their entire lives. Now, she can sit beside him and laugh and talk and touch innocently and not want for anything more or less. 

I am happy. Why question it?

Bumping her shoulder lightly against his, Penelope asks if she can share a secret, too.

“Of co—”

“It’s not my secret, though, so you absolutely cannot tell anyone.” 

“You wound me, Pen.” Dramatically, he places a hand against his heart. “Your secret is safe with me. Your secrets are always safe with me.”

Before speaking, Penelope casts another glance towards Auggie, as if the semi-verbal sixteen-month-old could be at risk of spilling her secret. Unsurprisingly, he’s still asleep.

Turning back to Colin, she leans in another inch. “Philipa’s pregnant,” she whispers.

His eyes go wide. “Really?” he asks, an adorably enthusiastic quality to his voice.

“Yup. She told me and Prudence on Friday, but I figured it out at your brother’s wedding. A waiter walked past with a plate of fish. The scent was enough to make her double over and throw up in a potted plant.”

This time, it’s Colin who is hit with a laugh so forceful that it causes him to temporarily lose control of his limbs and where they land. He tilts towards her, his cheek brushing against her forehead. Then, his hand falls on her knee, as if to balance himself; the movement is just enough to cause Penelope to go rigid. Thankfully, Colin removes his grasp before he can make a serious impact on her last year of progress. 

Pushing away the panic lingering in her veins, Penelope sits up and forces out a laugh. 

“If Anthony and Kate lost a security deposit due to the incident, please forward me the invoice.” 

“No, no, no,” he mutters through his laughter. “If anything, that’s the caterer’s fault. But if Ant asks me about any desecrated plants, I’ll use an age-old Bridgerton tactic and blame it all on Gregory.” 

Penelope wants to protest, but can’t find the will to get her words out through her own laughter. When it finally stops and silence makes a brief reappearance, Colin clears his throat. 

“Do you think Philipa will let me babysit for her?” he asks. Penelope answers with an emphatic “No!” before he can get the last word out.

“Why not?! I’m responsible.”

“Well, for one, you were alone with Auggie — the most well-behaved baby I have ever met — for twenty minutes before you called in reinforcements. According to my mother, any baby with the Featherington gene is practically the devil. So, no, I don’t think you would be a good fit to babysit my niece or nephew.” 

As Penelope speaks, she watches Colin’s wide eyes narrow to a squint, his face turning from offence to skepticism. 

“I don’t buy that.”

“What? That your babysitting skills —”

“No. That every Featherington baby is a nightmare.” He looks her up and down briefly. “I have trouble picturing you ever being a nuisance.”

She doesn’t know what to say to that. Though Colin couldn’t possibly remember what type of baby she was (seeing as he was a toddler at the time), he was there throughout the rest of her childhood. Anyone who stepped foot into the Featherington household during those years would know that, to her mother at least, Penelope was a nuisance. 

Eventually, she shrugs. 

“Still… Best to leave it to the experts.” 

Colin sighs, pushing his back a little farther into the cushion behind him. 

“Well, if you ever find yourself babysitting baby Finch, feel free to call on me for backup.” 

Penelope can’t help but laugh at that. She only feels a little bit guilty when Colin gives her a disbelieving look. 

“My babysitting skills are not that bad,” he moans, raising a hand towards the sleeping baby across the room. “Auggie’s doing great. And —” He turns back to her, eyes looking strangely vulnerable all of a sudden. “We make a pretty good team, don’t we?” 

“We, uh — Yes. Of course,” she stutters out, barely holding onto her resolve. “It just — It doesn’t inspire much confidence, you needing to call in backup for a child as angelic as Auggie.” 

“Sorry,” she adds, only realising how harsh her words were when seeing them reflected in the expression on Colin’s face. 

“You know… I think you might be the first person to ever accuse me of having a lack of confidence.”

“That’s not exactly what I said,” Penelope says while giggling. A few seconds pass before Colin’s words hit her as startlingly true, nonetheless. 

Perhaps it’s due to her last year of progress, but Penelope has never seen Colin act with so little confidence ever. Perhaps she would have seen it much earlier on, had she not been so blinded by her hopeless love and idealised vision of this man for so much of her life. Perhaps she is finally seeing things objectively.

(She isn’t. That will take a few more years.)

“What did you mean, then?” he says, lifting Penelope out of her realisation. 

In truth, she barely remembers what she said just a few seconds prior. So instead of answering his question, she simply says, “I’m glad you needlessly called me over here tonight.” 

“Why?” In one swift movement, Colin leans back, folds his arms across his chest, and cocks his right eyebrow towards the sky. Voice low, he asks, “To witness me being a mess first hand?” 

Penelope, a master in pushing past his naturally charming ways, remains rigidly upright in her spot. “Yes,” she confirms. There are other reasons, of course, but that is certainly one of them. 

“Wow, and to think —”

Once again, Penelope is hit with a rather sudden realisation. 

“I’m surprised you haven’t babysat Auggie before,” she interrupts. Her suspicion only grows when his eyes dart back and forth. “It just — It seems like whenever I speak to Daphne these days, she never fails to mention how good you are with him. I suppose I just assumed you’ve spent more one-on-one time with him.” 

Completely ignoring the main point of what she just said, Colin lets out a strained chuckle and says, “I didn’t realise my merits as an uncle are such a frequent topic of discussion between you two.” 

“Well, she probably —” 

Penelope’s words stop short when she hears a distinctive noise coming from the other side of the flat. The clatter of keys in a lock.

“Speak of the devil,” Colin mutters from beside her. He almost sounds disappointed. 

As expected, Daphne and Simon walk into frame mere seconds later. They’re both smiling, quietly continuing whatever discussion they were having out in the hallway. But when Daphne turns her head and spots the two friends now standing awkwardly in front of the couch, her jaw drops. 

“Penelope!” Hand on her stomach, Daphne walks (practically waddles) over to give her a hug.

“Hi Daphne.” Penelope leaves Colin’s side to meet his sister halfway. “Hi Simon,” she calls from over her shoulder. He gives her a nod in response while walking over to Auggie. Though she can’t imagine why, it almost looks like he’s holding in a laugh.

“I didn’t realise you would be here!” Daphne exclaims. Keeping her hands firmly on Penelope’s shoulders, she pulls out of the embrace and looks pointedly between her and Colin. “It’s so wonderful to see you two togeth—”

“Yeah. Pen did me a huge favour, keeping me company tonight,” Colin interrupts. He moves away from the couch to help gather the baby toys on the floor. “Don’t tell Auggie, but his conversational skills could use a bit of work.”

“Really, mate?” Simon asks, finally letting out that laugh. “Blaming the toddler for invit—”

“Thanks again, Col,” Daphne interrupts, giving her brother a sidelong hug. She then turns to Penelope and looks as though she’s about to say goodbye. Before she can, though, Penelope looks at her phone for the first time in hours. 

10:13 PM

Fuck.

“I’ll walk down with you guys. I have to be up early for work tomorrow. Monday Morning pitch meetings and all.” 

Daphne smiles and nods. Simon picks up Auggie and a massive bag of baby necessities. Penelope trails a few paces behind them, Colin trailing just behind her. Just as the married couple exits out into the hall, he pulls her into an unexpected, slightly awkward hug. He wraps one arm around her, placing his left hand in the spot between her shoulder blades; he drops it before she can return the gesture. 

“Thanks for coming tonight,” he whispers after pulling out of the hug. “Really.” 

“Of course.” Her words come out quick, not giving her brain enough time to examine his sudden change in demeanour. “If you ever need me, I’m always just one SOS text away.” Then, “Goodnight, Colin.”

When she finally exits the flat, Simon and Daphne are already in the lift, Simon holding it open by hovering his foot above the crack in the doorway. 

“Thank you. Sorry,” she mumbles, belatedly stepping across the threshold. Just as those metal doors slide shut, Daphne perks up again. 

“It was so nice of you to keep Colin company all night.”

“Oh! It was nothing. I think he was just nervous about being alone with Auggie. And I wasn’t busy, so…” 

When Penelope’s words trail off, Daphne gives her a somewhat puzzled look. Behind her, Simon makes a suspicious noise that sounds like a cross between a laugh and a cough. No one voices their apparent uncertainty aloud; the cramped metallic box remains quiet until they reach the ground floor and the doors creak open. 

When the four of them step out into the surprisingly chilly August air, Penelope cannot stop the words from leaving her lips any longer. 

“I’m surprised Colin has never babysat for you guys before. He’s always bragging about what an amazing uncle he is. I just…” 

When her words trail off, Daphne remains noticeably quiet. Simon, on the other hand, snorts. 

“Colin babysits Auggie every time he’s in town. He’s putting thirteen-year-old girls all over London out of business.” 

꙳ ꙳ ꙳

Goodnight, Colin. 

Her words ring in his ears long after he watches her scurry down the hallway and disappear behind those sliding doors. They echo through him as he turns on his heel and heads straight to his bedroom. 

He plops down on his comforter like a paperweight. Heavy. Oblong. Lifeless. 

Like it so often does these days, his mind turns to Penelope.

Colin thinks about the last year. He thinks about how much time has passed since he came to that inevitable conclusion on a balcony in Catalonia. He thinks about how nothing has changed between them during all that time. 

That was his fault, of course. He could have said something. He should have said something. The problem with love confessions, though, is that there is never a right time for one. (Especially confessions as monumental and life-altering as the one this love would necessitate.)

Since last June, Colin has been waiting for a sign. Some tangible artefact to grab hold of — to convince him that now is the time to risk it all. That their relationship can handle yet another phase of life. That he won't screw it up this time. That he won't lose her again. 

Suffice to say, he has yet to receive a sign that could convince him of all that.

When is the right time to tell your best friend that you’re in love with her? Colin doesn’t know, but it always seems to be some date far off in the future.

Now isn’t so bad, which makes the lack of progress between them this past year bearable. He still talks to Penelope every day. He still steals her time whenever he’s home. He’s still in love with her, he just realises it now. All of that is good, and none of that has changed. 

Perhaps it isn’t fair to say nothing has changed since last June. Now, Colin’s desire to leave home isn’t nearly as strong as his desire to stay. Now, he’s more greedy with Penelope’s time during his trips home (hence the bullshit excuse for calling her over here tonight). Now, his feelings are overwhelming in the places they used to be obscured. Now —

*ping*

That little buzz in his back pocket momentarily brings Colin out of his own head. When he looks at the screen, his heart skips a beat. It nearly stops at the second buzz.

꙳ ꙳ ꙳

pen 💛: Thanks for letting me hang out with Auggie all night. Maybe we can team up again next time you babysit him.

pen 💛: You know… Since apparently that’s your second job.

colin 🤡: don’t let daph turn you against me. i can’t compete with yet another one of my siblings for the title of penelope featherington’s #1 favourite bridgerton 

pen 💛: That title is currently held by Auggie. You should be worried about his little sister arriving and stealing #2

colin 🤡: bullshit — they’re not even bridgertons!

pen 💛: My ranking, my rules

pen 💛: Goodnight Colin

colin 🤡: night pen

colin 🤡: get home safe

-------------------------------------------------------------------

“Another reason to get married now.”

“What’s that?”

“We can get a head start on our family.” 

He leans in to kiss her, but just before their lips make contact, Penelope pulls back.

“I told you to stop skipping ahead,” she whispers, then leans back in to plant a kiss on his cheek. “Four more to go.” 

[aniron48]

Love Letters - Day 1

Happy February, friends. After the January I’ve had, I wanted to do something lighthearted and fun this month, and I happened to get polls this week, so I decided a 00Q “choose your own adventure” might fit the bill! This one will start tonight, and there will be a story update with a CYOA plot-determining poll every night around this time for a little over a week. If I time it right and you chaos muppets don’t take the plot in a completely wild direction, the last poll will be the night of 2/13 in my time zone (EST), and on 2/14 (I know I know Valentine’s Day yes) will be the epilogue/wrap up.

The CYOA poll will be open for 24 hours, starting now! I’ll make sure to link to the previous day’s post in each new post, so you can follow along. Have fun! I can’t wait to see what you do!

By the time the fifth text from Q arrived, Bond could see the writing on the wall well enough.

He’d purchased the dodgy in-flight wifi on the trip from Bogotá to London in no small part so he could receive Q’s updates from his biweekly wine-and-film nights with Moneypenny. In Bond’s experience, Q had a tendency to get increasingly tipsy as the night wore on, and in the three months they’d been dating, Bond had quickly learned that it brought him no end of amusement to save screenshots of the texts to tease Q about when the opportunity presented itself. He was particularly fond of the shade of pink, a shade not otherwise occurring in nature, that Q’s cheeks turned when Bond confronted him with a particularly lascivious text, like the one from the Roman Holiday film night a month ago that read simply, “Gregory Peck cld ride me like that Vespa.” Q had threatened to steal Bond’s phone and blow it up. Bond had threatened to have the text embroidered on a pillow.

But tonight, it appeared something had gone terribly wrong, because Q’s texts were becoming more, rather than less, clear as the night wore on, with increasingly pristine grammar and punctuation. 

“I don’t know what made the studio think they ought to do a remake of Persuasion when the BBC version from the 90s was perfect” was the first sign that the evening had gone downhill. By the time Bond got the text decrying the remake as an “offense against nature and Jane Austen,” it appeared some sympathy was in order.

“I’m appalled to hear it,” Bond typed. “What a shame.”

Three dots appeared, stopped, and reappeared as Q typed out a message.

“You’ve never seen the BBC version at all, have you???”

Bond rubbed absently at the scruff on his cheeks—he’d had no time to shave before catching his flight—and considered his response.

[crikey01]

ASJSKDKS WHAATT Chris this absolutely made my day ❤️❤️❤️ Unrequited Friend Support Group forever :') always enjoy our chats, you remain the only soul to have read that beginning part of the ball fic I started, which seems to be eternally a WIP :'( + your art is so cool and imaginative every time, I love it!! thank you so much for tagging me + for your kind words, it means so much 🩵

and then @majortomyourcurcuitsdead you tagged me too and i - 🥹 pretty sure I discovered you from that one post of your nice hands 💀 a strange way to meet someone online lmao but glad I did 💕

gonna jump on this and tag some people because I wanted to do a end of year thing and honestly I'm so sappy about it all...

I've spent about 6 years thinking that being in fandoms and obsessing over TV shows, movies, books, etc was so cringey and childish and that I was above all of that. I was SO WRONG. I'm so immensely grateful that I decided to come to Tumblr (very late to the party lol) after watching good omens in the summer. I love it here and I'm genuinely so much happier for having this community in my phone ❤️ eek told you I was sappy about it *wretch* ..... anyway!

@fakeacademic ELSY!!!!!! pulp + jarvis expert and fellow David Tennant enthusiast 🩵🩵🩵 we've assigned so many songs and old paintings to Aziraphale + Crowley and half of the music i've listened to in the last few months have been your recs. Also, congratulations (or sorry? or thank you?) apparently you're my go-to person to text when I'm drunk now, so make of that what you will 🤣 I think you were the first person I messaged on here and I'm so glad I did. You're so nice, I love being friends + I really appreciate you 💕💕

@crowleybrekkers @hikarry @muffimtv we've barely spoken but I very much enjoy our tag game based communication 🩵

@procrastiel you often make me laugh with your tags @hoshioyoo + @kidovna lovee your art! @0tr45hm0uth king of the Campbell bain gifsets :D @overlord-of-chaos we both stood in the same room for 2+ hours seeing hozier lol @capsthorne @catabasis @tortugay @crawley-fell @chaospossum @rauniptheteller @autistic-katara @wraithee @rainbowcrowley @pabulumm @marauderswolf22 @nerdygayheretoday @poplinn @atleasttheyvegotstars @ineffablycoin @galaxgay @elnotwoods @willowfernn @fellshish @ineffabildaddy @doing-90mph-in-central-london @lineffability @ineffableigh @newnosejar some of us have messaged, some of us haven't. all of you I enjoy seeing on here :)

hi there chris! since the new year is approaching rapidly, i wanted to ask my favorite creators (that includes you! i love your art!) how they look back on their 2023 tumblr year and which blogs made them happy to be here. i am very happy to follow you and hope you'll have a great 2024! 💘

Hiiii omg this is so sweet and means a lot to me, thank you! 🥺💕

I've been meaning to do a little end-of-the-year shoutout/love post for some of my favorite blogs, so I hope you don't mind if I use your ask as the perfect excuse!

I've had many fun years on tumblr, but this one has been extra special. Falling into the Good Omens fandom and meeting all of you amazing people has made this year so so SO much better than it otherwise would have been, so here are some special shoutouts (apologies, I'm sure this will get long, things like this tend to get away from me, so I'll put it under a read-more)

@majortomyourcurcuitsdead SASHA can you believe I was going to just send you an anon telling you that I think you're cool and leave it at that. Can you believe it. WELL thank Somebody you had your anon turned off and I had to expose myself in your dms because it feels like we just instantly connected about like 20 different things and haven't stopped talking since sskjdfhs anyway I'm so happy I met you you're so fun and so clever and so talented and so enthusiastic and I've only known you for like. What 2 months?? Ish? But I already love you so much <3

@lineffability !!! Line you are so *struggles to find words* you're just great is what you are okay. I feel like you are what happens when somebody takes a big cup and puts six shots of love, chaos, sunshine, talent, fun, and enthusiasm into it, generously sprinkles intelligence on top and gives it a good stir. I don't even remember how or when or why we started talking tbh? But your creativity is so inspiring, and some of my favorite tumblr-moments of this year have been 'yes-and'ing with you about one thing or another in a very >:3 manner hahah so! my point is! i love you lots <3

@dontbotheraziraphale Teeeedddd you're wonderful, I vented at you one time and then we talked for like 2 hours and at the end of that 1 conversation I already considered you a friend - and not just in that "tumblr mutuals who talk 1 time are my friends" kind of way but like. Genuinely. You're so kind and so fun and every time we talk it's such a good time ily a lot my bro my buddy my man <3

@crikey01 Tallulah HI I also completely forgot how we started talking but I remember connecting the dots that you were the one who painted those INSANE black and white and gold oil paintings and the way my jaw dropped like?? BRO you're so talented I admire you so much! And I love that we bonded over stopping each other from masochistically checking certain peoples' blogs... 😂 Anyway you're so sweet and fun and ily lots <3

---

The list could probably go on but you four are the people I've talked to most on here and you're the tumblr chat boxes I never close but always just minimize and y'all better see this as the ultimate internet declaration of affection that it Clearly is >:D 💕

---

And here are some more shout-outs because I just HAVE to.

Apologies, I know I've already tagged a bunch of you recently in a mutuals appreciation post but. This is my official thank-you-for-2023 post and I just have a lot of love for you all okay sorry feel free to ignore this <3

@rowan-ashtree (i'll text you back soon I promise I'm sorry I just haven't had the brain-space recently ssjkdfh) @crawley-fell (we've never talked but i love you from afar :')) @ineffabildaddy @llokilaufeyson @actual-changeling @saryasy @hyperfocusthusly @beccibarnes @rainbowcrowley @thesherrinfordfacility @goodoldfashionednightingale @wibbly-wobbly-blog @highlyillogicalandroid (i see your data obsession and i agree <3) @tortugay @foolishlovers @stargazing-crowley @gingiekittycat @weasleywrinkles @bildads-shoes @finleycannotdraw @bowtiepastabitch @heytherefluffy @samwwise @nocturnal-birb @athousandyearstime @angelsdiningattheritz @most-normal-eccles-cake-ignorer @jedthesecretdreamer @wraithee @hydrangeadangea @southfarthing @frodo-baggins @mobius-m-mobius

[thllxnd]

WANTED PLOTS & CONNECTIONS:

Under the cut is a list of plots, as well as basic connections. None of these are set in stone and I’m always more than happy to change them to suit our muses! I’m also more than happy for people to take on multiple plots/connections. Please note that Tom currently lives in South West London.

SPECIFIC CONNECTIONS:

We dated when we were younger, but broke up due to growing apart and we haven’t seen each other since. That is until right now as you stand there in front of me at the same event. We haven’t seen each other in years and things are a little awkward between us. I still want to stay in contact, we have a lot to process and a lot to talk about. Could we be friends after all of this?

We were best friends as kids, we were never a part and always promised to stay best friends forever. But then we both began to get famous in our own right, causing us to grow apart and we haven’t spoken properly in years. Now we’re at the same place at the same time and things are a little awkward, it’s like we’re strangers.

Life as a celebrity can be tough, something we both can relate too. Sometimes the stress can get too much and we just need a break and to be treated like normal people. That’s why we hang out so much, to be there for the other when life gets too much, whether we sit on the couch and watch movies all night, or go on spontaneous trips out where we won’t get recognised and just have fun. ( this can either end up being the perfect friendship and solely platonic or they start hooking up with feelings getting involved.)

We’re so close as friends that people either think we’re siblings or we’re dating, when in reality you’re my ride or die and everything is completely platonic. I don’t know what I would do without you honestly, so we just ignore the rumors and carry on being our chaotic selves. - HAILEE STEINFELD.

TW: ALCOHOL: We’ve never met before, I know who you are but our paths have never crossed. That is until we meet at a party, where we’re both completely wasted and we start to hang out. One thing leads to another and we end up hooking up in the bathroom stall of the venue. Now everytime we get together we can’t help but sleep together, despite telling each other it won’t happen again.

We’ve been best friends for years, you’re the ying to my yang, my partner in crime and we go to each other for everything. We know all of each other’s secrets and you’re the first person I call for help. However there’s one thing that I/you never told you/me and everything has just come to light, can our friendship survive this?

Together we’re just pure chaos, whenever we’re together we always end up getting into trouble and going out. We are each other’s wing person and tell each other everything. We have the best times together though and whenever one just needs to let off some steam, the other is always more than willing to help out. Everything between us is just purely platonic and I don’t know what I would do without our chaotic times together.

We used to date back when our careers were just taking off, the whole thing was a PR stunt though made up by our managers to try and make us the up and coming IT couple. The world still has no idea that the whole relationship was a lie and that we actually never got along. I spent all this time not liking you, and I’m pretty sure you felt the same about me. However now that we’re adults and we’ve matured I think you’re not actually not that bad, could we be friends?

TW SPIDERS/BUGS: We live close to each other and you’re always calling me at ridiculous times to come and get rid of spiders or bugs out of your house. You’re always embarrassed and apologizing but I just laugh it off and say it’s fine and I mean it. It’s what friends are for right, but hey do you actually wanna hang out properly?

We’ve been talking on tinder for a couple of weeks now and things seem to be going well. Now we’ve planned a date, I hope we have the same connection in person as we do through texts. (this can either lead to more dates or they just don’t click and end up being friends) - GIGI HADID.

After a lot of persuasion, I’ve agreed to go on a blind date with someone my friend thinks would be good for me. I’m stubborn, constantly claiming that this is a bad idea and I’m only doing it to shut my friend up. However you’re beautiful, definitely my type and suddenly I’m eager to make this date work. But will it?

BASIC CONNECTIONS:  

—— ROMANTIC. ❜

partner.

flirtationship.

one night stand.

one sided romance.

friends with benefits.

rebound.

blind date.

possible match.

forbidden romance.

exes on good terms.

exes on bad terms.

tinder match.

first love.

love / hate.

unrequited crush.

celebrity crush: ELIZABETH OLSEN.

previously friendzoned.

summer romance.

enemies with benefits.

childhood crush / lover.

one leads the other on.

publicity partner: ZENDAYA.

one night stand or fling that was regretted later.

—— PLATONIC CONNECTIONS. ❜

best friends.

close friends.

confidants.

bromance.

role model.

ride or die.

childhood friends.

drunk friends.

online friends.

secret friends.

enemies to friends.

wing(wo)men.

squad.

sibling like friends.

platonic soulmates.

friends over holiday.

unlikely friends.

positive influence.

seem like a married couple.

former lovers to friends.

new friends, aka friends who just met.

—— FAMILY CONNECTIONS. ❜

baby mama.

family friends.

siblings.

cousins.

long lost half sibling.

step siblings.

divorced partners.

in laws.

—— NEGATIVE CONNECTIONS. ❜

enemies.

former (best) friends.

fell for the same person & fought over them.

lifelong enemies.

frenemies.

share a secret.

rivals, direct opposition.

negative influence.

mutual jealousy.

competition.

current lover’s ex, former lover’s current partner.

have mutual friends but don’t get along.

—— MISCELLANEOUS. ❜

neighbors on good terms.

neighbors on bad terms.

have mutual friends.

an artist’s muse.

ex roommates.

professional relations.

project partners/co-workers.

band members.

fitness buddies.

game together online.

babysitter and parent.

best friend’s family.

friends of a sibling.

[hcvill]

WANTED PLOTS & CONNECTIONS:

Under the cut is a list of plots, as well as basic connections. None of these are set in stone and I’m always more than happy to change them to suit our muses! I’m also more than happy for people to take on multiple plots/connections. Please note that Henry currently lives in South Kensington, London.

SPECIFIC CONNECTIONS:

We dated when we were younger, but broke up due to growing apart and we haven’t seen each other since. That is until right now as you stand there in front of me at the same event. We haven’t seen each other in years and things are a little awkward between us. I still want to stay in contact, we have a lot to process and a lot to talk about. Could we be friends after all of this?

We were best friends as kids, we were never a part and always promised to stay best friends forever. But then we both began to get famous in our own right, causing us to grow apart and we haven’t spoken properly in years. Now we’re at the same place at the same time and things are a little awkward, it’s like we’re strangers.

Life as a celebrity can be tough, something we both can relate too. Sometimes the stress can get too much and we just need a break and to be treated like normal people. That’s why we hang out so much, to be there for the other when life gets too much, whether we sit on the couch and watch movies all night, or go on spontaneous trips out where we won’t get recognised and just have fun. ( this can either end up being the perfect friendship and solely platonic or they start hooking up with feelings getting involved.) - JUSTIN BIEBER.

We’re so close as friends that people either think we’re siblings or we’re dating, when in reality you’re my ride or die and everything is completely platonic. I don’t know what I would do without you honestly, so we just ignore the rumors and carry on being our chaotic selves.

TW: ALCOHOL: We’ve never met before, I know who you are but our paths have never crossed. That is until we meet at a party, where we’re both completely wasted and we start to hang out. One thing leads to another and we end up hooking up in the bathroom stall of the venue. Now everytime we get together we can’t help but sleep together, despite telling each other it won’t happen again.

We’ve been best friends for years, you’re the ying to my yang, my partner in crime and we go to each other for everything. We know all of each other’s secrets and you’re the first person I call for help. However there’s one thing that I/you never told you/me and everything has just come to light, can our friendship survive this?

Together we’re just pure chaos, whenever we’re together we always end up getting into trouble and going out. We are each other’s wing person and tell each other everything. We have the best times together though and whenever one just needs to let off some steam, the other is always more than willing to help out. Everything between us is just purely platonic and I don’t know what I would do without our chaotic times together.

We used to date back when our careers were just taking off, the whole thing was a PR stunt though made up by our managers to try and make us the up and coming IT couple. The world still has no idea that the whole relationship was a lie and that we actually never got along. I spent all this time not liking you, and I’m pretty sure you felt the same about me. However now that we’re adults and we’ve matured I think you’re not actually not that bad, could we be friends?

TW SPIDERS/BUGS: We live close to each other and you’re always calling me at ridiculous times to come and get rid of spiders or bugs out of your house. You’re always embarrassed and apologizing but I just laugh it off and say it’s fine and I mean it. It’s what friends are for right, but hey do you actually wanna hang out properly?

We’ve been talking on tinder for a couple of weeks now and things seem to be going well. Now we’ve planned a date, I hope we have the same connection in person as we do through texts. (this can either lead to more dates or they just don’t click and end up being friends)

After a lot of persuasion, I’ve agreed to go on a blind date with someone my friend thinks would be good for me. I’m stubborn, constantly claiming that this is a bad idea and I’m only doing it to shut my friend up. However you’re beautiful, definitely my type and suddenly I’m eager to make this date work. But will it?

BASIC CONNECTIONS:  

—— ROMANTIC. ❜

partner.

flirtationship.

one night stand.

one sided romance.

friends with benefits.

rebound.

blind date.

possible match.

forbidden romance.

exes on good terms.

exes on bad terms.

tinder match.

first love.

love / hate.

unrequited crush.

celebrity crush: DEMI LOVATO.

previously friendzoned.

summer romance.

enemies with benefits.

childhood crush / lover.

one leads the other on.

publicity partner.

one night stand or fling that was regretted later.

—— PLATONIC CONNECTIONS. ❜

best friends.

close friends.

confidants.

bromance.

role model.

ride or die.

childhood friends.

drunk friends.

online friends.

secret friends.

enemies to friends.

wing(wo)men.

squad.

sibling like friends.

platonic soulmates.

friends over holiday.

unlikely friends.

positive influence.

seem like a married couple.

former lovers to friends.

new friends, aka friends who just met.

—— FAMILY CONNECTIONS. ❜

baby mama.

family friends.

siblings.

cousins.

long lost half sibling.

step siblings.

divorced partners.

in laws.

—— NEGATIVE CONNECTIONS. ❜

enemies.

former (best) friends.

fell for the same person & fought over them.

lifelong enemies.

frenemies.

share a secret.

rivals, direct opposition.

negative influence.

mutual jealousy.

competition.

current lover’s ex, former lover’s current partner.

have mutual friends but don’t get along.

—— MISCELLANEOUS. ❜

neighbors on good terms.

neighbors on bad terms.

have mutual friends.

an artist’s muse.

ex roommates.

professional relations.

project partners/co-workers.

band members.

fitness buddies.

game together online.

babysitter and parent.

best friend’s family.

friends of a sibling.

[handsomelyhiddleston]

The Cabin - Tom Hiddleston x Curvy Reader (Part 1/3)

“What’s got you so distracted?” Evans asked Tom.

“Sorry, I just…I had planned on visiting my family again during break, but most of them will be on a cruise for a family friend’s wedding. I know I saw them less than two months ago for Christmas, but I don’t get to see them often anymore.”

“Oh, damn!” Chris replied.

“I know, I’m considering whether or not it’s even worth it to deal with two incredibly long flights going to and from London if I’m not even going to get to see my family.” He said, opening the make-up trailer door for him and Chris.

“Where else were you thinking about spending break?” he asked, plopping down in the make-up chair to start having all of the Captain America washed off for the next two weeks.

“Honestly, I don’t know. I may just take a trip to somewhere much closer by myself.” Tom answered, running his fingers through his hair when his wig was removed.

“If that’s what you WANT to do, cool, but you should just come with me to the cabin.” Chris suggested.

“The cabin?” Tom asked.

“Yeah, my friend Y/N owns a huge cabin and I drag my family up there every few years.” He explained.

“Thank you for the invite, but I couldn’t intrude on your family’s time with you.” Tom politely answered.

“Come on. First, you know my mother loves you. Second, you aren’t intruding on anything.” Chris tried convincing him.

“I really don’t want to be a bother.” Tom felt guilty, knowing how much of a family person Chris was.

“That’s it.” Chris dramatically pulled his cellphone out. “Siri, call Ma!”

“You wouldn’t.” Tom said, struggling to keep a straight face.

“Calling ‘Ma’” Siri’s voice replied. The make-up artists were trying hard to keep their laughs to themselves at this point.

After a few rings, Chris’ mother answered the phone. “Hey sweetie.”

“Hey Ma, I’m here with Hiddleston and I need you to settle an argument.” Chris shot Tom a snarky ‘watch this’ look.

“Tom! How are you, sweetheart?” Chris’ mom Lisa asked.

“I’m doing well, thank you. How have you been?” Tom replied with a grin on his face.

“I’m good, I’m good. Now what are you two arguing about?” She asked.

“Well, Tom isn’t going to get to see his family over filming break.” Chris started to explain.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” Lisa interrupted. “You should just drive up to Y/n’s with Chris! There’s plenty of room and you know I always make too much food anyhow.”

Chris gave Tom a cocky grin. “That’s exactly what I was telling him, Ma!”

“You’re too kind.” Tom laughed. “I suppose you’ve made an offer I can’t refuse.”

“Don’t be silly. You’re always welcome with us.” Lisa reiterated. “We��re getting ready for bed since our flight is so damn early in the morning, so I’ll see you two tomorrow!”

“Thanks, Ma! Be safe!” Chris answered, hanging up the phone.

“Thank you.” Tom said, getting up from his make-up chair.

“I told you, it’s no biggie. We’re gonna have a blast.” Evans answered.

“When are we leaving?” Tom asked.

“Well, we’ve got a few options.” Chris answered as the two of them left the make-up trailer.

“Go on.”

“They aren’t expecting us there until tomorrow, but if we leave in the next few hours, we’ll actually beat them there.” Chris explained.

“I mean, I’m nowhere near tired.” Tom said, letting Chris know he was down for the drive.

“Same. I’ve been so excited for this trip, I feel wired.” He replied “Wanna pack and meet me at mine?”

“Absolutely.” Tom answered. “Anything specific I should pack?” He called loudly as the two had walked a distance apart.

“Dress comfy!” Chris yelled back. “And bring a jacket! It’s snowing!”

Tom waved and made his way to his trailer.

It was about an 8 or 9 hour drive up to the cabin, so the guys rolled up at about 3 in the morning.

“Is anybody else here?” Tom asked, as Chris navigated his truck up the snowy drive.

“Y/n’s here. She spends about half her time up here.” Chris answered, parking the truck and shooting you a text.

“Where does she spend the rest of her time?” Tom asked.

“Everywhere, really. She’s a writer. She’s even come and crashed with me while I was filming.” Chris answered, hopping out of the truck when he got your text reply.

“Books? Scripts?” Tom asked, curious what you wrote.

“Books, mostly. She’s got a few popular series, but she also has a few pen names that she refuses to tell me so I’ve always assumed she like consults or edits or something.” Chris answered.

“How mysterious.” Tom chucked, grabbing his bag and following Chris up to the house.

“Y/n!” Chris yelled into the cabin, leading Tom into the large home.

“Did you really work all day and then drive 8 hours?” you laughed, walking down the stairs.

“I just couldn’t wait to see that beautiful face.” Chris dropped his bag and pulled you into a bear hug.

“Sure. This definitely has nothing to do with you beating Scott to one of the big bedrooms.” You laughed, wrapping your arms around him.

“That’s just a perk.” He teased, introducing you to Tom. “I’m sure you know who this is. Y/n, Tom. Tom, Y/n.”

“Nice to meet you.” You replied, pulling Tom into a hug.

“It’s very nice to meet you too.” Tom said, happy to see that you seemed just as chill and down to earth as the rest of Chris’ friends and family.

“He had to bail on his plans to fly home for the break, so I convinced him to join our two weeks of amazing chaos and shenanigans.” Chris laughed.

“Amazing is right, bucko. I just got two hot tubs installed” you shared.

“Yes!” Chris half yelled.

“Also, mi casa es su casa, Tom. Make yourself at home.” You told him.

“Gracias.” Tom replied in Spanish.

“Any chance you two want to take a dip tonight before the rest of the pack arrives?” Chris asked, looking between you and Tom.

“Absolutely” you answered, walking towards the kitchen. “You both okay with Beer? I’ve got other options.”

“Beer for me.” Chris answered.

“Actually, a beer sounds rather refreshing at the moment.” Tom answered.

“I’ll grab the beer and you two can pick your rooms” you called from the kitchen.

“You down for the hot tub?” Chris asked Tom.

“I am, but I didn’t pack any swim shorts.” He answered.

“No worries, Y/n has a whole closet full of random stuff. Follow me.” Chris led Tom up the stairs. “Y/n’s room is at the very top, but there’s two rooms just below that. We can take those two. Let those with kiddos stay closest to the bottom floor.”

“Sounds good to me” Tom replied, dropping his bag on the bed before following Chris to your closet of misfit swim clothes, jackets, sleepwear, blankets, and other miscellaneous stuff.

When you made your way upstairs, you saw that the guys had picked the two rooms closest to yours. You weren’t surprised. They were the two biggest after yours and Chris never got to pick one of them because he was always the last to show up for his family get togethers.

“When you two get changed, head up to mine. The second hot tub is on my balcony.” You took the three unopened beers and went up the last set of stairs to get changed in your room. Your suit was a black balconette bikini top and a pair of black high waisted bikini bottoms. The top and bottom had a few strappy bits that accentuated your curves.

“Well hello there, sexy lady.” You heard Chris and his unending charm behind you as you were finishing getting your top all sorted.

“You guys get settled in?” you asked, nodding towards the beers.

Chris opened one and handed it to you. “We did.” As he opened another for himself and sat on your bed, he shared a bit about Tom. “I’m happy he tagged along. I don’t know what he’s got going on in his personal life because he doesn’t share a lot, but he needs a break like this.”

“Well, if I had to take a guess...” you took a swig of your beer. “You two get along great which makes me think he’s a down to earth, genuine person.”

“I agree” Chris replied.

“If you’ve seen any of the tabloids lately, they aren’t very friendly to the exes of the women he’s most recently dated. I’m going to assume he’s a bit overwhelmed and a bit worn out. It’s hard to stay genuine and down to earth when the media is writing about you as if you’re a scheming fuckboy.”

Chris took a swig of his beer. “I think you might be right. God, beauty and brains? Why won’t you marry me?” he teased.

“Like you could handle me” you teased right back.

“I’m going to go get more beer so we don’t have to leave the hot tub.” Chris stood and smacked your ass on the way out.

“How did I know you were going to do that?” you laughed.

Chris was laughing as he passed Tom. “I’ll meet you two up there.”

When Tom walked in, you opened the last of the three beers and handed it to him. “Pink suits you.” You noticed he was wearing the bright pink swim shorts from the closet.

Tom blushed and laughed as he took a sip of his beer. “It was this or ones with bananas all over them. I thought I’d make a bold choice.”

“Choice well made” you replied, opening the double doors to your balcony. “It’s going to be a short chilly journey to the hot tub, but heaven once you get in.”  

When you went to walk up the steps on the side of the hot tub to get in, Tom extended his arm so you could grab his hand. “Be careful.”

“Thank you.” You couldn’t help but smile.

“God, I leave for two minutes and you two are already holding hands.” Chris snarked as he joined the two of you on the balcony. You and Tom both laughed as you walked down into the hot tub and let go of his hand. “What’s he got that I don’t got?” Chris was fake sniffling as he climbed into the hot tub after Tom.

“Oh, sweetie. I don’t think you want to know the answer to that question.” You answered, finishing the beer in your hand.

“Now I really want to know” Chris replied, opening and handing you a second beer.

“Are you two always like this?” Tom laughed.

You and Chris looked at each other and answered “yeah” at the same time.

After the three of you had spent about a half hour in the hot tub just talking and laughing, Tom cleared his throat. “Thank you for this.”

“For what?” you asked. He was sat between you and Chris, the three of you looking out at the beautiful snowy mountain view.

“Chris, for inviting me. You, for having me. Both of you for forcing me to get out of my own head.” Tom answered.

“You don’t need to thank us.” Chris replied, slapping Tom on the shoulder.

“He’s right, you know.” You smiled, looping your arm through his and leaning your head on his shoulder, looking back out at the view. “You’re pretty great company if I do say so myself.”

“Well, if I can’t thank you, at least let me share my appreciation of you both.” Tom replied, pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head.

“Just wait until the whole pack shows up” Chris laughed. “It’s calm now, but you’re going to have plenty of distractions once the shenanigans start.”

“Remember, my room is the safe zone” you laughed. “No kids, it’s off-limits during games, and it’s the only access to this balcony.”

“I’ll keep that in mind” Tom chuckled.

Chris looked over and saw you cuddled into Tom’s side. “Why do I get the feeling you’re ‘appreciating’ Y/n over there a lot more than you are me” he teased.

You laughed and Tom looked over at Chris. “If you wanted a snuggle, that’s all you had to say.”

The three of you were all laughing, the lateness of the night sinking in. “If I snuggle anyone I’m going to fall asleep, and I have a feeling that’s not the best idea in a hot tub.” He stood up and hopped over the side, almost slipping on the icy balcony floor.

“What time is everyone arriving tomorrow?” you asked, not moving from your spot at Tom’s side.

“Well, they always grab breakfast down at that old little diner after they land, so maybe 11?” Chris answered, wrapping himself in a towel.

“You mean we actually get to sleep in?” you said with a bit of exaggerated shock.

“I don’t think it counts as sleeping in if you don’t go to bed until after the sun starts peaking over the mountains.” Tom teased you.

Chris laughed. “Hey, we’ll take it. Sleep is going to be a rare commodity around here for at least a few days.” He left the balcony and went back inside to warm up.

“I can’t wait.” Tom said.

“Me either. I love when they come up here. Always makes this place feel more like home.” You shared, moving to get out of the hot tub.

“I think the chaos is something I miss when I don’t get to spend time with my family.” Tom replied, once again grabbing your hand and making sure you made it safely out of the hot tub and onto the balcony. “I think having all of my nieces and nephews running around and the fact that there is always something cooking or baking…It’s hard to feel alone.”

You handed Tom a large towel and wrapped another one around yourself. “Well, if that’s your idea of a great time, you’re going to love your time with Chris’ family. They’re love and chaos and great food with a dash of an extreme love of competition.”

Tom followed you back into the house. “Well, again. I appreciate that I’m able to experience it.”

“Me too” you said, drying your hair a bit with your towel. “It sounds like you needed a bit of an escape.”

“That’s one way to put it” Tom said, drying off.

“Well, if you need anything just come find me, okay?” You could hear Chris coming back up the stairs to your room.

“Thank you, I will.” Tom replied, seeming to hesitate for a second. “I’ve enjoyed spending time with you tonight. Or this morning, rather.” He laughed.

You couldn’t help but smile as you threw your towel into the clothes hamper. You were a very confident person. You were proud of who you were, and you loved your curvy body, but all of a sudden you felt very naked standing there in your bikini. Tom’s genuine compliment and the way he confidently looked you up and down left you with goosebumps. “The feeling is definitely mutual.”

“Let me know if I can help with anything. Preparations and such.” Tom mentioned as Chris walked in.

“Don’t worry about that, Ma usually takes over when she gets here.” Chris laughed.

You shrugged. “True” you added, both grateful for and irritated by the interruption.  

“Y/n, I checked that all of the doors were locked. Our trucks are both locked too. I’m gonna pass out and shower when I wake up.” Chris let you know.

“Thanks” you replied. “I’ll probably hop in the shower before I go to bed so that I can help your mom sort meals and such out when she gets here.”

“Sweet. I’m going to bed.” Chris interrupted himself with a yawn. “I will see both of you in a few hours”

As Chris headed back down a floor to his room, Tom cleared his throat. “I really don’t mind helping.”

“You’ll eventually get roped into doing something, I promise.” You laughed.

Tom nodded and smiled. “Well then, I’m going to go shower and sleep. I’ll see you in a bit.”

As Tom turned to walk down the stairs, you spoke. “Try to relax.” When he turned to look at you, you continued. “You have nothing to worry about for two whole weeks. No schedule, no paparazzi, no expectations…just, let yourself enjoy it, okay?”

Tom smiled and nodded his head. He replied “I think I will” before continuing down the stairs.

Instead of your alarm, you were woken up by Chris crawling into your bed. “Y/n.” He was trying to wake you up gently. “Y/n!”

“Did my alarm not go off?” you asked, rolling over and snuggling into Chris.

He chuckled, wrapping his arms around you. “I underestimated my mother’s planning. Turns out they got to the diner at 8 this morning and they’re currently unloading the cabs downstairs.”

“What time is it?” you asked.

“9:30” Chris replied, the two of you hearing someone coming up the stairs.

“I’m going to need coffee” you mumbled.

Tom made it to the top of the stairs and saw you and Chris together in your bed. He tucked the thought away, making note to ask Chris about the two of you later. “Not a morning person?” he asked, laughing at your messy bed head and request for caffeine.

“I can be when I need to be, but we were awake and drinking on my balcony like four hours ago” you replied.

“Can I make you some coffee?” Tom offered.

You rolled over and sat up sorting out your messy hair. “I can make it. I just need to get dressed.”

Chris rolled out of your bed, going to your closet. “Bra, leggings, sweater, fuzzy socks.” Chris tossed your clothes onto your bed.

“You know me so well.” You laughed, gathering your clothes and getting out of bed. “I’ll be down in a few.”

“I think they’re finished unloading, but I’ll go see if there’s anything else they need help with.” Tom replied, heading downstairs.

“I’m offended that you two look like you’ve just had 12 hours of beauty sleep.” You teased Chris, pulling your leggings on.

“I think you’re underestimating yourself” Chris said, turning to leave. “You’ve definitely caught someone’s attention.” Chris had noticed the way Tom looked at the two of you cuddled up in your bed and planned on asking him about it later.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you sleepily asked, but Chris was already gone.

You finished getting dressed in your long, oversized sweater and fuzzy socks and walked downstairs to greet Chris’ family.

“Y/n!” Chris’ sisters greeted, pulling you each into a hug, the three of you quickly catching up.

Then came Scott, who practically tackled you. “Bitch, it has been too long.”

“Agreed.” You replied, the two of you making plans to go get stuff for drinks tonight.

You’d said a few hellos and given a few hugs to various other friends and family and eventually you made your way to the kitchen with Tom and Lisa, Chris’ mom.

“Oh, my dear, it’s so good to see you.” Lisa pulled you into a tight hug, kissing both of your cheeks. “I can’t believe the boys showed up at three this morning!”

You laughed. “It’s good to see you too. And Chris warned me a few days ago that he would probably drive up after he finished filming.”

Looking over you saw Tom holding a mug of coffee out towards you. “For me?” You reached out and took the mug from him.

“It’s the least I could do. Lisa told me how you take your coffee.” He answered, nodding towards Chris’ mom.

You took a sip, humming to yourself. “Thank you, this is perfect.” You pressed a quick kiss to Tom’s cheek before hearing Chris’ niece call for you.

“In the kitchen, sweetie” you called back out, walking towards where you heard her call from.

As the adults started getting settled into their rooms, the kids were all starting to crash from the hectic morning they’d had.

“Let’s watch a movie in the den, guys.” You suggested, grabbing blankets and pillows and throwing them on the couches and floor so that the kids would spread out and nap.

“What are we gonna watch?” one of his nephews asked.

“Well, we’ve got Goosebumps, we’ve got School of Rock, and we’ve got Bedtime Stories.” You read the movies aloud, with the kids all picking Goosebumps. About 15 minutes in, all of you were asleep in various places in the room.

Scott, Chris, and Tom were bundled up in their jackets talking on the back porch as Chris set up your grill and got it ready to use.

“So how long have you guys known Y/n?” Tom asked.

“Oh, god. It’s been…I don’t even know. It’s been years.” Chris thought about how long you guys had been friends.

“Chris met Y/n one day in New York. She was there for a book project or something and Chris had ducked inside her apartment building to get away from paparazzi.” Scott laughed, remembering Chris tell him the story.

Chris let out a big laugh. “She was getting ready to walk out and I practically ran into her. When she realized why I so rudely shoved my way into the building, she asked me ‘Do you want to do something very immature but totally worth it?’ I had to, right?”

Scott continued the story. “She led him up to her apartment and ran inside. Chris just waited at the door wondering what he’d gotten himself into when she popped back out, holding a box of water balloons.”

Tom laughed. “Oh, please tell me you threw them at the paparazzi.”

“They did. They filled a bin full of them and went to the roof.” Scott replied.

“I have never made a friend so quickly in my life” Chris said. “We got through about half of the bin before they left. Even better, they never got a picture of me throwing the balloons. The tabloids alluded to the fact that it was me, but we never officially got caught.”

“I don’t know if she adopted us or if we adopted her, but she’s been family ever since.” Scott added.

“Either way, she’s the best kind of people.” Chris said, closing the lid on the grill.

“I can see that.” Tom replied. After a short pause, he continued. “Have you two ever…dated?”

Chris grinned, remembering how Tom had looked at the two of you cuddled up in your bed. “Nah, she’s one of my best friends. Possibly my actual best friend.” he answered, sitting down next to the other two guys.

“Even though I’m sure ma would love it if you two got together.” Scott laughed.

“I think ma just wants both of us to settle down and have kids like the girls did.” Chris replied. “She treats Y/n like a daughter.”

Scott looked back at Tom. “Why the interest in Y/n’s dating life, huh?” he teased him.

“Just curious” Tom answered with straightest face he could manage.

“I don’t know” Chris continued, continuing to tease Tom. “You two looked awfully cozy last night.”

Tom’s cheeks blushed a bit before he could answer. “If a beautiful woman laid her head on your shoulder, what would you have done?”

“Fair point.” Chris laughed. “She’s single, you know” he added.

“She is” Scott echoed, smirking. “And I have a date to go shopping with her if you want me to see if she’s interested.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves” Tom replied, failing miserably at hiding his grin.

“No rush” Scott answered, putting his hands up. “I’m just saying…”

“Give him a break” Chris interrupted. “He’s got two weeks to see where things go.”

“True” Scott replied.

Part 2

[lcdrarry]

LCDrarry Round-Up Post | Week 1

On Sundays during our posting period, we won't post a new work, instead you have time to catch up on the works that posted during the week and hopefully leave lovely comments for our creators.

Happy reading, commenting and sharing! All links are under the cut ;)

~Your LCDrarry Mods

PS: Please have a look at the author notes and tags on AO3 for additional information. Thank you!

PPS: Here are all round-up posts of LCDrarry 2021:

Round-up Post Week #1 (you’re here) 

Round-up Post Week #2 

Round-up Post Week #3 

Round-up Post Week #4

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Art

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Art: I am only one side of a coin.

Prompt: "Merlin", 2008-2012 Prompted by: Anonymous Artist: Anonymous Art Medium: Digital Art in Photoshop Rating: General Warnings: none

Summary: The better side, obviously. Merlin/Harry Potter fusion. Harry as Merlin & Draco as Arthur.

View “I am only one side of a coin” on AO3.

***

Art: No Sweeter Innocence Than Our Gentle Sin

Prompt: "Romeo and Juliet", Shakespeare Prompted by: @celilasart Artist: Anonymous Art Medium: Digital Art Rating: General Warnings: none

Summary: Inspired by Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare starring Draco Malfoy as Juliet Capulet and Harry Potter as Romeo Montague.

View “No Sweeter Innocence Than Our Gentle Sin” on AO3.

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Art: there are dangerous men about

Prompt: "The Legend of Zorro”, 2005, Martin Campbell Prompted by: the artist Artist: Anonymous Art Medium: Digital Art Rating: Teen Warnings: None

Summary: Two wizards engaging in a vicious duel, but make it gay and sexy.

View "there are dangerous men about" on AO3.

***

Fic and Art

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Fic & Art: One More Lantern

Prompt: “xxxHoLiC”, 2006-2010 (anime)/2013 (live action) Prompted by: @porcelainsalt / bluedreaming @ AO3 Author/Artist: Anonymous Word Count/Art Medium: 8,373 words & Digital Art Rating: Teen Warnings: Smoking

Summary: Harry is plagued by spirits who seem intent on devouring him, and there’s only one place they can’t follow: a house hidden in wizarding London, belonging to Draco Malfoy. Harry didn’t intend to stay. He certainly didn’t foresee falling in love. Yet here they are. A slice of life where Draco is a sap, Harry buys ice cream, and spirits keep throwing their peaceful life into chaos.

Read "One More Lantern” on AO3.

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Fic

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Fic: (Let's Take Our Time) Just Moving Slow

Prompt: "Holidate", 2020, John Whitesell Prompted by: @Curlyy-hair-dont-care Author: Anonymous Word Count: 1,886 words Rating: Teen Warnings: none

Summary: Harry and Draco have a mutually beneficial arrangement: automatic dates for all holidays and public events, no questions asked, no obligation, no strings. It all seemed like such a good idea when they started. Harry certainly never expected to develop feelings for Draco.

Read "(Let's Take Our Time) Just Moving Slow” on AO3.

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Fic: My Saviour Won't Stop Texting Me

Prompt: "Hercules", 1997, Ron Clements, John Musker Prompted by: @onbeinganangel Author: Anonymous Word Count: 5,012 words Rating: Teen Warnings: Texting fic

Summary: Long ago, in Ancient Greece, there was a man named Draco Malfoy who sold his soul to Voldemort. Tortured by his sins, he... oh, who am I kidding? This is a Hercules AU texting fic, not some Greek tragedy! Harry and Draco get together and everyone has phones in Ancient Greece. Please enjoy.

Read "My Saviour Won't Stop Texting Me” on AO3.

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Fic: Ghost

Prompt: "Ghost", 1990, Jerry Zucker Prompted by: @Ladderofyears Author: Anonymous Word Count: 10,761 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: major character death (MCD), canon-typical violence, grief and mourning

Summary: When Harry is killed tragically during an Auror raid gone wrong, Draco does his best to move on. He's even a little cheered when Theo Nott starts pursuing him. Then Sybil Trelawney visits Draco.

Read "Ghost” on AO3.

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Fic: Star Crossed

Prompt: "Romeo and Juliet", Shakespeare Prompted by: @celilasart Author: Anonymous Word Count: 13,615 words Rating: Teen Warnings: none

Summary: Two Quidditch teams, alike in dignity, In fair Great Britain, where we lay our scene, From ancient grudge break to new mutiny, Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean. The Wimbourne Wasps and the Appleby Arrows have been bitter rivals for centuries. When a nasty brawl ends one of their Seekers’ careers, the teams need new blood to take up the slack and divert attention from the bad publicity. And who better to distract the press than the infamous Draco Malfoy and golden boy Harry Potter? Called back from successful careers abroad, the pair are once again to be pitted against one another in an epic feud. Too bad no one told them that before they started flirting…

Read “Star Crossed” on AO3.

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Fic: The Slytherin Host Club

Prompt: "Ouran high school host club", 2006, Bisco Hatori and Takuya Igarashi Prompted by: @eletriptan Author: Anonymous Word Count: 14,377 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: explicit sexual content, scars, non-graphic mention of past abuse

Summary: Harry is simply looking for a quiet place to finish his Potions essay.It's a pity he ends up at the Slytherin Host Club instead. Or maybe it's a blessing in disguise, since he's had a crush on Malfoy since the beginning of his eighth year...

Read “The Slytherin Host Club” on AO3.

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Fic: (This Will Be) An Everlasting Love

Prompt: #12 (also fulfils #6) | "While You Were Sleeping," 1995, Jon Turteltaub Prompted by: @manixzen & @thesleepiesthufflepuff Author: Anonymous Word Count: 45,139 words Rating: Teen Warnings: None

Summary: Life doesn’t always turn out the way we plan. That’s what Draco’s mother always used to tell him, but Merlin, who could have predicted how right she would be? A story about feisty dragons, loneliness, family, and friends — and finding love in places you least expect.

Read "(This Will Be) An Everlasting Love" on AO3.

***

Please help promote the fest by sharing your favourite submissions, so more people can enjoy all the amazing new Drarry works of LCDrarry. Thank you!

Author and artist reveals are on 15 June.

[fridayfirefly]

Two Birds [Part Two]

Read Two Birds on AO3

Masterlist [All Works]

Masterlist [Two Birds Series]

For Maribat March Day 31 - Reunion

The school trip to Gotham was supposed to be fun. It was supposed to be a reward to the class, a celebration of the recent defeat of Hawkmoth by Ladybug and Chat Noir. Marinette wanted to celebrate. She really didn't want to cry on the trip. Yet, as the plane touched down in Gotham, Marinette was staring out the plane window at the rain and the setting sun, rubbing her eyes, trying her best to brush away the tears before they formed.

"Are you okay, Marinette?" Alya looked over at Marinette, concern visible on her face.

Marinette nodded weakly, blinking away the wetness in her eyes. "I'm fine. I just... I have some bad memories associated with Gotham. One of my childhood friends... his parents were murdered on a trip to Gotham and I lost contact with him after that. It's always been a very raw subject for me."

Alya opened her mouth to respond, but before she could get a word out, Lila leaned across the aisle to interrupt the conversation. "Your childhood friend's parents were murdered on a trip to Gotham? It's okay to admit that you're scared of Gotham because of the supervillains. You don't have to come up with some outlandish story for why you're upset."

Marinette glared over at Lila, her eyes shiny from both her tears and her anger. "I wasn't talking to you, Lila, but for your information, I'm not making up a story. I wouldn't lie about the death of my friend's parents. I hate liars."

Lila flinched back, her eyes wide and innocent. "I'm sorry, Marinette. I just wanted to make sure that you knew that you could tell the truth. We wouldn't judge you for it."

Alya frowned, giving Lila a stern look. "Lila, Marinette is seriously upset. I don't think that this is the right time to lecture her."

"Oh, of course." As soon as Alya turned away from her, Lila's expression was murderous. Marinette could care less. She turned away and ignored Lila, not in the mood to deal with the liar's taunts. If she could just hold back her tears until they got off the plane, maybe she could pretend that it was the rain that was making her face wet.

It took an hour to get from the plane to the hotel room, and that hour was torture for Marinette, who spent the entire journey holding back tears. As soon as Alya shut the door to their hotel room with a click, Marinette finally let herself cry, curling up into a ball on the hotel bed.

Marinette felt Alya wrapped her arms around her in a hug. "I've got you, Marinette. It'll be okay."

Marinette didn't know how long she cried for. All she knew was that when the tears finally stopped, the sky had gone dark outside. "What time is it?"

"It's a little past eight. I texted Nino to tell Ms. Bustier that you weren't feeling well, so she won't be bothering you with any class president duties tonight."

"Thanks." Marinette shifted herself from lying on her side to sitting up. "Have I ever told you what happened to Dick?"

Alya shook her head. "You've mentioned him a few times, but only that you two were friends when you were younger, and then lost touch."

Marinette sighed. "It all started when I was nine years old. My Grandma Gina was babysitting me for the weekend. She was old friends with the ringmaster of a circus that was in Paris, so she took me there to stay the weekend. That was where I met Dick and his parents..."

Marinette told the story in bursts, stopping to cry every few minutes when she got too emotional to continue. "...And I never spoke to him again after that. Gotham's foster care records aren't open to the public, and I stopped myself from Googling his name a long time ago. It just hurts too much to get my hopes up."

Alya wrapped Marinette up in another hug. "I'm sorry, Marinette. I wish there was something I could do to make this better."

"I think this trip might be good for me. It hurts a lot now, but I think once it's over I might finally feel a little more at peace."

"I hope so. But if there's ever any time where you need to just stop and let it all out, I'll be there for you."

"Thanks, Alya. You're the best."

Alya was Marinette's best friend, even if Alya was friends with Lila as well. That was Marinette's one regret - when she unmasked Hawkmoth and Mayura as Gabriel Agreste and Nathalie Sancour, there was no way to unmask Lila as a liar as well. Gabriel refused to name Lila as an accomplice, aware that admitting to having manipulated a teen girl into performing acts of terrorism wouldn't look good for him. So Lila was free to continue her reign of terror, though at least now Marinette could be rightfully angry with her, without fear of being akumatized.

----------

The class trip was partially sponsored by the Wayne Scholarship Foundation. Usually, the Wayne Scholarship Foundation only awarded scholarships, given to students all across America to pay for college, but after Hawkmoth's defeat and the media coverage that followed, a rather large sum was awarded to Marinette’s class for their bravery on the front lines of Hawkmoths' attacks. The Wayne Foundation organized tours and shows for them all over the city, starting with a tour of the Martha Wayne Memorial Botanical Gardens bright and early on the first morning of their trip. Then the class would go on a walking tour of Gotham during the afternoon, ending at a high-end sushi restaurant for dinner, followed by a night exploring East Hills Park during one of their famous firework shows. The late May day promised to be warm and sunny, so Marinette put on her favorite red floral sundress with a jean jacket overtop to hide the thin spaghetti straps, and sturdy tennis shoes to handle all of the walking she would be doing.

"Marinette!" gasped Lila as soon as Alya and Marinette walked into the main lobby. "Are you sure that your outfit is dress-code approved?"

Marinette rolled her eyes. "Yes, Lila. With my jacket on, this fits the dress code. I wouldn't make something that I can't wear."

"Okay. I was just checking. Your dress seemed a little too short to me, but I guess I just prefer something more modest."

As Lila walked away, Alya placed her hand on Marinette's shoulder in comfort. "I'm sure Lila didn't mean to come off as slut-shaming. I think she's just lashing out because wants to make sure you don't get in trouble for your outfit." Even Alya sounded uncertain of her explanation, as not even she believed herself. Without the support of Hawkmoth, Lila was no longer a cunning and calculated mastermind of manipulation. Now she was just a scared bully, desperately doing whatever she could to maintain her power over the class.

"Whatever," Marinette sighed. "I won't let her ruin my trip."

"That's the spirit. Besides, anyone with taste would know that your outfit looks super cute.”

Marinette smirked. "Are you saying that you don't think Lila has taste?"

"Definitely not as much taste as you. You're the Queen of Fashion Trends. You always look good." Alya put her arm around Marinette's shoulder. "Plus, you know better than to wear cowboy boots to school."

Marinette giggled as she remembered the incident. Lila came to school showing off her 'authentic' cowboy boots from America, seemingly unaware that they were the ugliest shoes anyone in their class had ever seen.

"You'll have a great day today, I promise." Alya walked with Marinette to the bus waiting outside. They got a seat up near the front, by Nino and Adrien.

Adrien had been the most affected by Hawkmoth's unmasking, given that it revealed his Father as a terrorist and his Mother as a coma-patient. All seemed lost for Adrien, as a team of Paris's best doctors revealed that Emilie Agreste was braid-dead. They planned on pulling the plug on Emilie's life support until, Amelie Graham de Vanily revealed that by combining the twin rings she and her sister owned with Ladybug's power of creation, together they had the power to bring Emilie back to life. Marinette was skeptical, after all, Amelie seemed to have ulterior motives in everything she did, but how could Marinette refuse when it was the only thing that she could do to help Adrien. In the end, she decided to help, no matter the consequences. Miraculously, it worked. Emilie was brought back to life and Adrien had a mother again.

However, in the aftermath of her decision, Marinette realized one crucial detail. In all of the chaos of deciding whether or not to work with Amelie, when she based her final decision on Adrien, she did it because he was her friend, not because he was her crush. At that moment, she realized that the overwhelming crush she had on Adrien since the age of thirteen had faded. In its place was a beautiful friendship.

"Good morning," chirped Adrien.

"What's up, dudes?" chimed in Nino.

"I can't believe we're here in Gotham. I thought our class trip to London was cool, but this is just incredible. I can't believe that the Wayne Foundation organized all of this for us," Alya gushed.

Marinette smiled. She knew that her friends deserved the vacation. Alya, Nino, and Adrien (though his involvement as Aspik was brief) all helped in the fight against Hawkmoth, even though they never revealed their superhero identities to each other. "What are you all most excited about?"

"I can't wait to see the Superhero Museum," said Alya. "I can't believe we were invited to the ribbon-cutting ceremony of the new exhibition."

"It is a celebration of the defeat of Hawkmoth. I suppose they wanted some real Parisians there to see it."

"I'm excited for Super: an American Musical, with the original cast. Did you guys know that this is their last week in Gotham before the show starts on Broadway!" Nino cheered.

Marinette smiled. "That is cool. I've heard that it's a fan favorite to win a Tony this year."

When all eyes landed on Adrien to answer the question, he shrugged. "I just want to experience everything. And take a lot of pictures. I promised my Mom that I would send her some."

"How about we take one now?" Marinette suggested.

Adrien nodded and the group of friends squeezed together to take a selfie.

"How about you, Marinette?"

"The Wayne Foundation Fundraising Gala," Marinette answered promptly. "It's one of the most influential events in fashion. I've heard that celebrities wear their second-best outfits to the Met Gala and save their best for the Wayne Gala. I know that the Wayne Foundation is paying for a shopping trip to pick out an outfit for the Gala, but I made my dress own and brought it here."

Alya laughed. "I should have guessed."

Marinette smiled sheepishly. "I couldn't resist. This is the first opportunity I've had to wear my newest creation."

"Do you have pictures of it?" asked Adrien.

Marinette shook her head. "I'm not showing anyone until the Gala. I'm keeping it safe in my room. I don't want to jinx anything."

"Hawkmoth is gone. We're in Gotham, living it up. Life is good." Alya summarized, and the whole group chimed in their agreement. Life was good.

----------

"Is everything in this city named after the Waynes?" asked Nino as they stepped off the bus in from of the Martha Wayne Memorial Botanical Gardens.

"The Waynes are one of the oldest and wealthiest families in Gotham. When you're that rich, life is just a game of buying your name onto as many buildings as possible," Adrien answered.

"The Waynes and their extraordinary money are the reason why we're here, so I'm willing to forgo making fun of everything they put their name on," Alya decided.

Once they got through the doors to the Botanical Garden, Marinette was entranced. Flowers of every shade surrounded her, the sound of rushing water and the rustling of leaves was the only thing she could hear, the smell of pollen and fresh air filled her lungs. It was heavenly.

"I'm Olivia, but you can all call me Liv," spoke the blonde tour guide as she approached the class. "I'll be giving you a tour of the Botanical Gardens, the largest sanctuary for endangered plants in New Jersey. We're known especially for our orchid garden, which we'll walk through at the end of our tour."

As the tour continued, Marinette noticed that one hallway was blocked off by a sign reading: Hydrangea Exhibition Coming This Fall.

Liv pointed out the hallway. "Down that hallway is the upcoming Hydrangea Exhibition, which is replacing the old New Jersey Wildflower exhibit. Now, I know you're all from out of town, but if you're even in Gotham again, make sure you check out the Botanical Gardens. We're always getting new exhibits-"

Liv was cut off by the sound of shattering glass. One of the panes of glass making up the room had been shattered, and shards rained down on screaming tourists. Marinette's eyes widened as she recognized Poison Ivy, lowering herself through the now opened ceiling on her vines. "You thought you could destroy the native vegetation of this city and get away with it? Nothing escapes my notice. Now, I would like to have a little chat with whoever's in charge here."

Liv motioned for all the students to get down, whispering, "As long as we stay out of Poison Ivy's way, we'll be perfectly fine. Just stay calm and stay quiet."

Marinette watched as the Director of the Botanical Gardens came out to reason with Poison Ivy. He pleaded with the villain, "We won't destroy any of the wildflower gardens, I swear. I'll make sure myself that the wildflower exhibit will be moved to public parks all across Gotham."

Poison Ivy shook her head. "That's not good enough. You think you can wash your hands of these flowers so long as someone else offers to take them? How long do you think the wildflower gardens will last without any sort of protection?"

"We'll make sure that the gardens are protected, I promise."

Narrowing her eyes, Poison Ivy gave the Director a cruel smile. "I hope for your sake, Mr. Joseph Hoffman of 524 Shelton Avenue, that nothing happens to those flowers. Otherwise..." Poison Ivy let the threat hang in the air, using her vines to ascend back up to the ceiling.

The next few moments were so chaotic and full of movement that Marinette couldn't quite piece together what had happened. All she knew was that one second Poison Ivy was leaving the way she came and the next second, Batman and Robin were facing her down in the middle of the Botanical Gardens.

"Oh, hello Batman, Robin. It's so nice to see you. I was just leaving though, so unless you want to fight me where all these plants - and civilians, I suppose - could get hurt, I would step out of my way."

"Poison Ivy, we both know that I can't just let you go free after you threatened this man's life."

Poison Ivy sighed dramatically. "Oh well, I gave you a chance. Now it looks like I'll have to start getting civilians involved. The villain's eyes panned over the room, her eyes just happening to make contact with Marinette's for a split second before Marinette looked away. But that split second was enough. Marinette felt vines start to wrap around her forearms, yanking her forward.

Marinette was pulled all the way over to Poison Ivy, Batman, and Robin, until she was stopped in between the villain and heroes. "What's your name?" Poison Ivy asked, a menacing smile on her face.

"M-Marinette," she stuttered out, eyes wide.

Batman's expression was stoic and unyielding, while Robin looked at her with wide, stunned eyes. Batman spoke, "Why don't we move this outside where no one - plants or civilians - will get hurt."

Poison Ivy nodded. "I will require a head start, though, so I'll keep my vines wrapped around Marinette's throat. As soon as I'm out of range the vines will go slack and she'll be able to go on with her day. However, if you start to come after me before then, I'll tighten my vines and poor little Marinette might not make it."

Marinette stiffened as the vines grew around her throat, just loose enough for her to take shallow breaths. Poison Ivy disappeared from view, but Marinette continued to stay perfectly still, desperately trying to slow her breathing before she hyperventilated. No one made a move toward Marinette, no one willing to risk the consequences of making a move while Poison Ivy could still control the vines.

After what felt like hours, but was really only about five minutes, the vines relaxed and fell to the floor. Marinette collapsed to the ground, lowering herself into the seated position so she could breathe a little bit easier.

"Are you alright?" asked Robin, kneeling next to her. "Are you having any trouble breathing?"

"I'm okay. I didn't get hurt. I was just scared."

Robin got up and held out his hand to help her to her feet. "Why don't we get you back with the rest of your group. Are you here with your family?"

Marinette shook her head. "I'm here on a school trip."

Robin walked Marinette over to her class, handing her off to Ms. Bustier, who let out a sigh of relief as she gently placed her hand on Marinette's shoulder. "I know that was a very scary situation, Marinette. If you would like, I can take you and Alya back to the hotel."

"No way!" protested Marinette. "I didn't even get hurt. Plus, we have the walking tour of Gotham today. I don't want to miss it."

"Are you sure?" Ms. Bustier glanced over toward Batman.

Batman joined the conversation, saying, "If Marinette prefers to continue her day as normal, then I would advise following Marinette's lead. Often, the best way to recover from an encounter with a villain is to go on with your life as normal."

Marinette nodded. "I want to stay with the rest of the class and go on with our day."

Ms. Bustier still looked hesitant but conceded anyway. "Alright. I think our tour of the Botanical Gardens is over, though. I doubt that they would let us continue, what with shattered glass all over the floors."

Liv led the group out of the building, commenting with a sigh, "It's a shame that Poison Ivy came and ruined the tour. The orchid garden is such an amazing exhibit, and now none of you will get to see it. Unless..." Liv glanced around. "There's no broken glass in the orchid garden, so I don't suppose why we couldn't leave the Botanical Garden through the side-exit past the orchid garden. What do you say, Marinette?"

Marinette smiled. "That sounds wonderful."

As the tour group turned to enter one of the hallways branching off of the main room, Marinette glanced behind her one last time. She made eye contact with Robin, who was watching her leave, an expression of wonder on his face. Marinette turned back around self-consciously rubbing the back of her neck. She wasn't sure why Robin looked at her like that. It wasn't a look that one would give a stranger, and yet they had never met before. Marinette thought it was odd, but the thought was gone from her mind as soon as her class entered the orchid garden. I'm here in Gotham for a week to have fun, she reminded herself, so no more investigating every strange occurrence.

----------

The walking tour of Gotham was just as fun and informative as Marinette anticipated, packed with interesting facts and amazing sights. She got a bunch of high-quality pictures of Gotham, good for putting in the blog post that Marinette (as class president) was in charge of putting together to go on the school website. Best of all, Lila didn't bother her for the whole tour. Even Lila knew that she couldn't bully Marinette and get away with it, after what Marinette had been through the morning.

The sushi restaurant was amazing too. Marinette had eaten sushi a few times before, but never anything as high-quality as what was served in the restaurant. Marinette decided that if this was what a field trip funded by the Wayne Foundation was like, then she was incredibly excited for the week to come.

Aside from the unfortunate interruption at the Botanical Garden, the day was perfect. Yet, Marinette couldn't stop thinking about the strange look on Robin's face. Had she done something wrong? Was she really safe from Poison Ivy? The thoughts lingered in her head, pestering her every time she felt safe and content.

"Listen up, class!" called out Ms. Bustier. "You'll all have exactly two hours to explore East Hills Park. The firework show starts in approximately half an hour, and ends half an hour before you have to meet up here, which should give you plenty enough time."

Marinette followed Adrien, Alya, and Nino off the bus and into the park. The group of friends started to explore the park, stumbling upon the statues and fountains that were scattered about the grounds.

"I found another Wayne!" Nino shouted from a few meters away. "This statue was dedicated to Patrick Wayne, who was Mayor of Gotham City - this was before they changed the name to just Gotham - from 1896-1904. His most notable achievement from his time in office was that he built over thirty new schools and eleven new library buildings in the city. He was known for his dedication to educating the City of Gotham."

It had become an inside joke between the group to try and find as many things in Gotham named after the Waynes as they could. The task turned out to be much less difficult than they had anticipated, so the group quickly switched tactics and began looking up the various Waynes to see what they actually did with their lives, to determine whether they deserved their names on the various buildings and statues of Gotham.

"He actually sounds like he deserved a statue," said Adrien, looking down at his phone at the Wikipedia article he had pulled up. "Not like Augustus Wayne, who never had a job and gambled away nearly a quarter of the Wayne fortune, yet still has a bridge and a fountain in this park named after him."

Marinette chimed in, "My favorite is Georgiana Wayne. Apparently, a reporter was harassing her over the fact that she was a divorcee and Theodore Wayne was her second husband, and she told that reporter to, quote, 'Fuck off, you lousy son of a bitch. If my husband doesn't mind that I am a divorcee, I don't see why you should.'"

"I wonder if she has any statues in the park," said Alya.

"I doubt it. Her Wikipedia article is only four paragraphs long."

Alya frowned. "That's a shame. Augustus Wayne does nothing of importance with his life and gets a whole bridge named after him, but Georgiana Wayne is a total badass in the 1920s and gets nothing."

"We'll have to bring it up with Bruce Wayne at the fundraising Gala," joked Marinette.

"Good idea." Alya glanced down at her phone. "It's almost time for the fireworks show to start. According to the class groupchat, everyone is gathering on the south shore of the duck pond. There are benches there, and it should have a good view."

"I'll meet you guys there," said Marinette. "I just want to get a few more pictures before it gets too dark."

Marinette started taking pictures of the fountains and flowerbeds, wandering aimlessly through the park. She was busy getting the best angle to take a picture of a maple tree framed by the sunset when she bumped into someone walking behind her.

"Oh, I'm so sorry-" Marinette began to apologize, but as soon as she recognized just who she bumped into she was at a loss for words. "Dick?"

"Marinette?" Dick's voice was deeper than Marinette remembered, yet still hauntingly familiar. His wide blue eyes stared into hers.

Marinette couldn't hold it together. She burst into tears, launching herself into his arms. "Dick, I thought I would never see you again. What are you doing here?"

"I heard your name on the news when they were reporting about Poison Ivy's vandalism at the Botanical Gardens. I did a little googling and found out about your class trip. It took a little digging into the Wayne Foundation website, but I found the approved itinerary for the trip and decided to track you down at East Hills Park. I knew I had to see you again."

"You did that for me?" Overhead the fireworks started going off, extravagant flashes of color that Marinette ignored completely. She couldn't tear her eyes off of Dick. When she imagined her reunion with him, she never really considered that he would be all grown up. No longer was Dick the twelve-year-old boy that Marinette remembered from her childhood. Dick was now five years older and sixteen inches taller.

"Of course I did. Marinette, I've missed you so much."

"I tried to get back in contact with you but Gotham's CPS refused to release any information to me. I kept calling and calling but they wouldn't tell me anything." The tears returned with a vengeance, and Marinette started to sob. "I gave up on finding you and I'm so sorry."

"I don't blame you. You have to know I don't blame you. It's me who should be apologizing. I could have tracked you down but I never did."

Marinette sniffled. "Why didn't you?"

"I was a coward." Marinette opened her mouth to protest but Dick cut her off. "I was scared of losing another person I loved. I shut everyone out and by the time I was ready to let people in again, I was afraid that you wouldn't want to be a part of my life again."

"What made you change your mind?" asked Marinette.

"No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't forget you. It was stupid of me to think that I ever could in the first place. You were my best friend Marinette. You still are, if you'll have me."

Dick looked at her with such longing that Marinette knew she could never deny him. Her face softened. "Of course I will."

"Thank you." Dick held onto Marinette tighter.

Marinette closed her eyes and melted into his embrace. The fireworks show continued, bathing the park in beautiful colors, but Marinette felt no need to watch it. She knew that she already had the most beautiful thing in the park in her arms.

Taglist: @maribatmarch-2k21 @jayjayspixiepop @buginetye @ultimatetornshipper

[rjpen]

My father came to me in a dream in New York City one day. 

I was walking down a busy street at the time, so it was something of an inconvenience; but I hadn’t seen him in years, so I kept calm and carried on. I kept the rhythm of my steps, and I continued to avoid the fast moving obstacles of people and traffic. I began to hum to myself. It’s a thing I do to manage stress, or distress - which is an odd thing to identify upon re-uniting with your own dad, but it was present none the less - we hadn’t seen each other in over 15 years, and this was a waking dream after all. 

I hum to myself in the dentist’s chair when they get the drill out. Or anything else that buzzes menacingly, but they told me they don’t mind, and I think they and the assistants are quite amused by it. It beats screams.

Though he did not buzz menacingly, I hummed to my father, there on 2nd Avenue, and he hummed back. He kind of resonated. Words rang out with great eloquence, but the consonants never formed. The words simply vibrated, and I tried to find harmony with them. Sometimes perfect 5ths, sometimes clashing 7ths and 4ths - sometimes in a uniform lockstep beat, in time with my heart or the steady pulse of unrelenting Empire State footsteps - ever forward and constant; other times in challenging cross rhythms and alternate timings that teeter on the brink of chaos, the very edge of loosing all apparent form before suddenly completing their cycle and resolving again into a perfect fractal image.

In this way, we talked.

I couldn’t tell you exactly what he said, and I wouldn’t, it was a private conversation after all - but he left me with a song.

****

Soon after, a close friend, Jack Brown, had just gotten married, and text me a series of tender chords he’d strummed out on his honeymoon (he apologized for his playing in the voice note, explaining that he was unaccustomed to the ring on his finger, and it was making him stumble over the frets. I thought that was just about the most adorable thing I’d ever heard.) He wondered if I could do something unexpected with them.

I kept humming around the streets of New York.

******

A month before the death of George Floyd, I was in London and I reached out to an old colleague, Lanre Malaolu suggesting we finally got round to connecting in the way we’d put off for years and collaborate while I was grounded on a rare trip back in the UK. I had just finished this complicated sort of anthemic lullaby about love, legacy, loss - and how men particularly, deal with such vulnerabilities - with my brother (together we go by the musical pseudonym ‘TUNYA’). Lanre’s recent work exploring tenderness within Black masculinity seemed a perfect, unexpected, and exciting match to explore the themes of the music visually.

By the time of filming in August, the world had been brought to a screaming halt by the rawest, largest, and most powerful display of Black community, pain and activism since the Civil Rights movement of the 60s. A palpable sense of communal grief had dominated every conversation, on a global scale, magnified and brought to boil by the losses and fear of a world brought to its knees by COVID-19. John Lewis had died. Colston was dumped in the sea, and confederate monuments were armed battle grounds - defended by white militias and conquered by Black ballerinas. Chadwick Boseman died. I missed my dad. A world full of uncertainty lacked leadership and compassion, and each new week brought new, unresolvable heartbreak. The core team involved in the film had been privately trying to learn how to be grieving, vulnerable, Black and publicly on display for months, and the piece grew to reflect that. The responsibility as artists to share what light and answers we’d found and contribute that back into a community fractured and isolated by social distance, thrust not only a sense of purpose on the project, but a guiding momentum. It could now only be this.

Joshua Nash is an extraordinarily sensitive performer, and his unique blend of abrasive power and overwhelming vulnerability guides the piece through a physical embodiment of his own personal journey through a universal grief. The battle for control and suppression, the desire to tidy away a past too painful to confront, and the ultimate realisation that the only escape from the trappings of an eternal fight - is to allow oneself to feel it. To accept the pain of past battles, honour it, and through that knowledge, gain the peace necessary to thrive and progress beyond it.

To a world seemingly divided into two camps, both struggling to address a painful history, a cancerous personal and public legacy, I hope the piece’s foreword (unpublished in the end, written late one night between rehearsals, trying to pin down our direction) offers a guiding light toward its redemptive resolution:

“Those who fell before you fought,

For you

Not to be bound in mourning

But to free your life’s celebration”

In the end, like them all, Don’t Wait is simply a love song. It is about finding the path through life’s necessary, good trouble, to life’s intrinsic celebration.

More love, always

R

x

Watch the video here

(Photographs by Helen Murray)

————

DON’T WAIT

Sweet, sweet sun

Shine!

I couldn’t wait

Darling

To hold you in these arms

I couldn’t wait

I couldn’t wait

Darling

To keep you

Quite as warm,

Warm as I would have liked

But I’ll soft speak

On the wind

And I

Won’t let you fall apart

If you hold me

Inside

Sweet sweet sun

Please

Shine

The first time I met you

I felt that I could fall into the sun

And still feel the light

Of your eyes

To guide me home

The first time.

The first time I met you

I felt like my life had just begun

Born again,

A better man, a better man

For you

And I’ll be around

On the wind

And I’ll guide you through the night

If you

You call me out

I will hold your hand

I never meant for you to

Stumble

Stumble

and fall

Without me

Oh, there’s a song in you

All that I never taught

I never thought

I’d have to

I wish I could

More than anything

I want to hear

Oh,

What a song you are

And don’t sing

Like you let me down

You couldn’t

Let me down

And don’t feel

Like you let me down

You could never

Let me down

Don’t ever feel

Like a fool

In those blessed moments

When you fall into the truth

Sweet sweet sun

Of mine

Shine.

[berlinini]

A freaky friday contest is being held. The winner gets to be louis for a day. Your the lucky pick ! What all crazy things will you do ? You can use his socials, contacts eveything. 24 hours only, clock is ticking. All the best.

OMG thank you for this ask!!! It’s such a great question! I made up a little scenario that’s part what I would do if I was Louis and part what I wish Louis would do. It has a plot twist at the end!

24 hours… Let’s say the day starts at 7. Here’s my schedule:

7 am: I wake up and freak out because I realize I’m in Louis Tomlinson’s body. It’s momentary because I realize I’m in Louis Tomlinson’s body sooooo… I start exploring said body. I mean, what else would I do??? I’m joined by Mr. O and we have incredible, mind-blowing sex.

9 am: I decide to unleash chaos and post an after-sex selfie on IG. No caption. Just messy hair and glassy eyes. I go on Twitter, change my Twitter bio, unfollow all the larries and tweet "Good morning! Vas happening". Mr. O makes me breakfast in bed. It's really good (he's a great cook), and I have no choice but to thank him in a special way.

10 am: I shower in what I imagine is the biggest shower I’ve ever seen. I wash my beautiful long hair with expensive products that smell divine. I then go to my walk-in closet and spend a lot of time touching and smelling the clothes. I try a lot of different stuff on. I can’t stop looking at myself in the mirror. I admire the penguin tattoo, for probably too long. I settle on wearing my bleached jeans and some soft jumper, preferably red. I take a selfie and send it in a bunch of footballers’ dms. Kun replies "you look good, mate". Mr. O asks why I’m blushing.

11 am: I call the lads and we meet up for lunch at a nice, private pub. We have a lot of fun. I make fun of Oli (lovingly). The hot bartender is flirting with me and I flirt back.

2 pm: I log into my computer and find some old demos. I leak the original LT1 on Soundcloud. My manager calls me to ask what the hell is going on and I tell him he’s fired. Him, the whole team, the PR team, everyone. I put down my phone and go take a walk with the dogs. It’s a beautiful day. I get an iced coffee, I sit on a bench and write down some lyrics ideas. I record some messages for fans with lots of "fank you's".

3 pm: Mr. O picks me up in his super fancy car. We take a drive around London, somewhere with beautiful scenery. We talk and laugh and sing songs on the radio. We park the car somewhere with a nice view and have a snogging session. We talk about the future, about Mr. O’s successful career and my upcoming tour. We take really nice pics, including some silly ones. He lends me his sweatshirt because I'm cold.

4:30: time for some afternoon tea and pastries. I call some friends and family. Play some FIFA on the Xbox. I text James McAvoy and Sam Claiflin, just because I can.

6 pm: footie game with the lads. After the game, all sweaty, I take a picture of me wearing shorts and a headband and post it on IG as a story with the caption: "is it me or it's hot in here?".

7:30 pm: Mr. O picks me up again (he loves taking care of me and I love being driven around). We go back home. He’s been cooking so it smells delicious. The fairy lights are on. Then: Shower. Sex. Supper.

9 pm: the guys from the band arrive to chill and we have a few beers. We jam for a bit, we cover Beautiful War, I get a bit emotional. I do a IG Live of a few songs, without saying anything, because I’m a chaotic king. We drink more beers and talk about music and the upcoming tour. I jokingly flirt with Matt.

11 pm: someone suggest that we go out so we end up in some fancy, exclusive club where I can dance in peace with bald men and/or Mr. O. Lots of fun, alcohol, good songs. Luke joins us and makes me laugh.

2 am: I drunk text footballers and then drunk tweet "I once was in love with one of my bandmates" then 20 minutes later I tweet a picture of Zouis. It’s still early in the US so Zayn actually facetimes me asking what the fuck is going on. He’s smoking a joint on his tractor. We have a conversation that makes no sense but we laugh a lot and promise to meet up soon. I’m super happy. Shots!!! Harry calls to know what’s up with those tweets and I ignore his calls. I go on Spotify and make a playlist called "For Harry" and it’s only one song: Fearless. I block his number.

3 am: Mr. O is tired of my messy ass so he insists on going home but I convince him to stop at McDonald's before. We share a McFlurry and he says he says he's hoping I'll stick around and grow old with him even if he can’t compete with Zayn. I tell him he doesn't have to worry cause Zayn is hot but he's hotter and yes we should get married... but he thinks I’m joking.

4 am: Mr. O tucks me in bed and kisses me goodnight. I barely remember the events of the day but I’m happy. I sleep peacefully in my soft and warm bed.

6 am: Woken up by natural needs (not the right ones), I then proceed to wake up Mr. O to tell him I’m 100% ready to marry him, for realz, and he’s like "ok show me then *wink wink*", so… ya know…. and then he says "that’s all good babe but you’ve forgotten we are already married".

THEN IT’S 6:59 AM SO I WAKE UP.

[peeterparkr]

perfidy;tom holland|6

chapter 6: the frame

enemies to lovers au/enemies with benefits

story summary: Tom and you have been sworn enemies since you were young. However, you happened to be best friends with the twins. When one of your friends challenged you to break Tom’s heart, you immediately accepted to get back at him for all the times he’s hurt you. Old feelings might come back, while both of you try to go past your pride and your lies.

chapter summary: how do you make someone fall in love with you when they’ve hated you their whole life? 

pairing: tom holland x y/n

warnings:  swearing, timmy, mentions of sex, didn’t proof read 

word count: 5.8k

here’s a playlist

TWEETS:  read them before you read this.

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wanna be tagged?

No one should ever have sympathy for the devil. They’re the devil for a reason. But somehow, you understood a lot of things about Tom. Going through his schedule had you already on your feet, no wonder why he was always tired. You had been avoiding any kind of confrontation with anyone as your hands were hovering through the mouse as the light from your laptop was washing white through your whole room, you hadn’t slept and you had a cup of coffee as you waited for your alarm to go off so you could officially start the day. 

Your first day as an assistant, it didn’t sound exciting but it had you on the edge. That wasn’t the reason why you hadn’t slept, though.

Timothée and you hadn’t solved anything, both of you needed to think things, you’d asked him for more time to go through and about everything. Because honestly, you didn’t know if you wanted to go back to a relationship where you knew you weren’t the same. But you were still in love with him. You knew he loved you, too. You can  easily tell, you know? when someone is in love with someone else. Yet it seemed like he had been so distant, even if he had only been 3 feet apart. 

.And it was hard, because you couldn’t be thinking about it, but you had the right to cry about it, didn’t you? But you knew that at some point you’d break. You didn’t have the time to think about it, not now. You had already opened the document, the script you so feared of writing. So banal and stupid and typical, a script that had no meaning. And you were wondering if you really wanted to do that, you could easily just text Alessandra you were not up to write something as vain and stupid, especially because you knew you’d end up hurting yourself. This meant emotionally investing in something, and although there was no way you’d ever wake up past feelings, you knew you could end up hurting more people than planned. 

Besides, you were certain it was impossible, Tom wouldn’t fall in love with you. So you maybe needed to change this, seduce him? But you felt so dirty. 

It had been good, though, relieved some stress, some tension. But then, you’d seen Timmy. And everything had tumbled down. Because you were proving his point. Though the conversation had gone very normal. Timmy had understood that you needed time, you hadn’t told him what for. 

It was wrong, it felt like cheating. Cheating on your heart, at least. But you looked at the little annotations you had for the script. 

You hadn’t slept because you were wondering if you could ever make someone like Tom fall in love with you. Because really? What makes people fall in love? It had you thinking. And maybe you could turn this into a guide, how to make your number one enemy fall in love with you. Was there really only one fine line in between love and hate? Can one fall in love with someone you know so well? 

How does one make the devil fall in love with you? 

And you’d asked Timmy, “What made you fall in love with me?” As if it was a question like “what’s your favourite colour?” or “what have you been doing these days?” 

He hadn’t answered, not really. Only gave you a smile.

You closed the script, maybe the answer was in between your past, and you scrolled through your files until you found them, your old videos. 

You stared at the names, and randomly clicked on one. 

“Okay, Y/N… Want to dance with Tom?” Nikki said behind the camera. The movie was messy, and she was trying to focus on both of you. A young y/n was on the floor, her mouth covered with chocolate ice cream. A bow on her head, and a very nice white with cherries dress, now all covered, too with chocolate ice cream.  

You chuckled as you watched yourself, you had the rest of the ice cream on your hand. 

You were barely 3, it seemed. Your brother, probably 8,  was sitting on the couch as he was too busy nibbling on his own popsicle. A young Tom was giggling to the camera, covered in ice cream too, as he danced to the music playing in the background, ABBA, your mother and Nikki used to play ABBA all the time. 

“Y/N you don’t wanna dance with Tom?” Your mother walked into the view, as baby y/n looked up to her and shook her head. However, your brother, James walked over to you and helped-forced you to stand up. He took your hands and made you dance with him, you grinned. 

Your mother and Nikki started to clap as you danced, and Tom, of course, wanting to get back the attention, pushed away your brother and took your hands instead, dancing with you. 

The video was rather something quite adorable and stupid, you were both dancing to the song. 

You laughed to yourself, because there was probably a similar video when you guys were older, but now drunkenly dancing to ABBA. 

The kids were dancing, and you ended up kissing his cheek. 

“Adorable!” Nikki said. 

Of course, the sweetness ended as Tom pushed you back, making you fall to the floor. Tom laughed and then you cried. 

“Thomas! Don’t do that!” Nikki said. 

“Y/N, love it’s okay, don’t cry,” your mother said, as she rushed over to you. 

The video ended. 

You rolled your eyes, that video was the perfect definition to your relationship nowadays. Except you didn’t like him. But you had to, for your own sake, you had to put up with him. With the devil. 

He was the devil in disguise, you could see it. Even when he was younger, little devil, disguised as an angel, with a beautiful smile and angelic eyes. This was wrong, so wrong, you knew he could hurt you more than you could hurt him. How could you ever make him fall in love with you? If you hadn’t succeeded before what made you think that you would win now? 

It made you feel guilty, even, because you were playing with something where you knew you had a lot to lose. You were risking your heart, and you knew that this was leading to your doom. It was no secret that you had once wanted him. 

And even with everything, you didn’t want to hurt him. And you had circled around it, how you could try to ruin him. But you really didn’t want to. But how did you make anyone fall in love with you? Because it was written in the stars that you were both destined to hate each other. 

Or maybe you had only been destined to love him once, or twice but he was meant to hurt you. You couldn’t rewrite destiny, no matter how good of a writer you were, you couldn’t rewrite the stars. 

Was there an answer? Did you have to dress a certain way? Did you have to sing? Maybe makeup. And you started to think about it, maybe you couldn’t rewrite it but you could write a new story. 

What had made you fall in love with anyone, really? And you thought about Tom, the first person you’d ever been in love with, the chaos he was. Like a busy rainy morning in London, with hopes of the sun finally coming out. And it didn’t make any sense. Maybe that was you needed to figure out how to make something senseless turn into something important. Falling in love with the devil. And you’d already sinned. 

But you started writing, and before you knew it, you were already waiting for him with a coffee and a tea and a printed schedule. Tom would be picking you up. 

“Morning,” you said but he hadn’t answered. 

And there it was, the long-expected cold shoulder he’d be giving you. You hadn’t expected any less from him, of course he was now pretending nothing had happened. A black t-shirt and a pair of grey sweats. 

“Here’s your tea—And-are you excited?” 

“We don’t have to talk,” Tom said. “It’s too early.” 

You raised your brows. “Alright.” 

He remained quiet. But you watched him, the sun was making him a favour. The freckles on his skin were perfectly placed on his nose, it seemed like they were stars poured over. The damn boy was perfect, at least you could get something out of that.

You didn’t know if he had noticed your staring. 

He was too good to be true, honestly. He was very attractive, too bad he was such an asshole. Why had he never liked you back? 

And there it was, that feeling you’d always be feeling. The feeling of not being enough, or the feeling that you’d done something so wrong. But you’ve learnt better. You knew this was Tom being whom he was. Probably Haz had heard something and Tom had denied it and then he was giving you the cold shoulder to not raise any concerns. 

This would be difficult, having to deal with him and try to make him fall in love with you when he clearly didn’t like you at all. It was good you didn’t like him either. 

But you did look at the mirror and wondered if you looked bad, or ugly, or if it had been your voice, or maybe he didn’t drink tea when he was going to film, or what had you done wrong? That feeling would never go away when you were with Tom. What did you do wrong? 

However, you needed to go through the Schedule, even if your thoughts were messing with yur brain. “We will go straight into makeup and—“

“You think I don’t know that?” Tom rolled his eyes. 

You rolled your eyes. “Thomas I’m simply doing my job, alright? And if we want to work this out—And I’m just trying to be nice, okay? I don’t like you, I really really can’t stand you but I’m doing my best effort to try and be nice, and decent. We are gonna be doing this for two months and you know what? If you don’t get your shit together I might just quit right here right now and good luck finding an assistant in ten minutes, so you better not be pulling that attitude with me right now.” 

He blinked as he cleared his throat. “Sorry.” 

“Good, now I need—“

He smirked. “That was pretty hot, though.” 

You closed your eyes with desperation as you turned to glare at him. “What?” 

He grinned as he turned his head just slightly to wink at you. “I’m sorry after that night—Apparently that kind of stuff turns me on.” 

“That night didn’t happen,” you cleared your throat. 

He clicked his tongue. “But it did, and we were very chill after that, and that was hot.” 

“You’ve got some weird kinks going on there, first the praise kink and now this?” You sassed with poison. 

“The praise?—I don’t have a praise kink,” he frowned. 

You laughed. “We’ll see about that, now we need to—“

“Oh we will see?” He smirked. “So you’re saying you will prove it to me?” 

You fumed red as you glared at him. “You’d love that, wouldn’t you? I’m sorry to inform you but I’m a professional and that will never happen again.” 

He grinned. “Oh c’mon, y/n.” 

“What now?” You crossed your arms. 

“You can’t… you can’t pretend it didn’t mean anything.” 

“It didn’t feel anything. Did you feel anything?” This could lead somewhere.  

“No. Well… I’m not saying that I felt anything, but it does mean something.” 

You sighed. “I’m… No, I’m sorry I got caught up in the moment, that’s it.” 

He laughed. “Hm, bummer, and here I was thinking about bringing yellow flowers.” 

You looked away. Yellow flowers. “You wouldn’t even if you’d felt something,” you said with poison, not even wanting to think of yellow flowers. “And if you dare to mention that night again, I’m gonna quit for that too.” 

“Nice, I love it when you talk dirty to me,” he snickered, but then quickly regretted it as you smacked his head. “Ow! Hey! I’m just messing with ya, y/n.” 

You frowned, feeling your empty stomach slowly pulling down. 

“I hate you,” you stated. 

“I hate you more, boo,” he grinned.  “I’m sorry, y/n, it’s just pretty early…” 

“And? I hate waking up early too, I didn't even sleep last night.” 

“Why not?” 

Because you were broken-hearted, because you had to write a script, because you had to work for him, because you needed him to fall in love with you. But you wouldn’t tell him that. 

You shrugged, not giving him an answer. 

“I saw your tweets,” he pointed out. “What happened with Mr. Boring?” 

“He’s not boring, and it doesn’t concern you.” 

“Y/N, he is like actually super boring,” he pushed. “Like what did you even see in him?” 

A lot, a lot of things. He was charming, fun, nice, intellectual and he supported your dreams. And he never got into your nerves. 

“He was dreamy.” 

“Dreamy?” Tom frowned. “He is boring.” 

“He’s not.” 

“That’s why you broke up, right? Don’t tell me you got back with him? He’s so boring y/n and he’s—“

“That doesn’t—Look, don’t even—This is strictly professional and we shouldn’t be discussing any personal matters okay?” 

He chuckled. “Fine, let’s get into professional matters.” 

-

And there you were, walking behind the big movie star as people boarded him, the director, other actors, everybody wanted to speak to Tom and you were only following after him, writing stuff down that you thought would be important for later, as you tried to follow up with everyone. You had made sure the catering had gotten Tom’s snacks right, and the water, and then the menu for later, and everything that Harry had told you to, and then you were leading the way towards his trailer, and then after setting up you’d go to makeup. 

The set was big, and you felt butterflies just thinking that someday maybe you’d be writing or directing something of this sorts. The film world was fascinating to you, sure, television was amazing, too but this was just where you needed to be. Not exactly as an assistant but it got you closer to wherever you wanted to be. 

You were approaching Tom's trailer, as you were trying to explain to him the schedule that would be going on down today, while your mind was going places as you tried to come up with times where you could be alone with Tom so you could at least start your investigation on knowing what made him fall in love with anyone, and you had to start flirting with him, although, he had already started on that. Very unprofessional. If you were honest, that was the least that concerned you, you were too busy imagining the day you’d finally direct your own film,  but before you could even continue with your film fantasy, you saw….him. 

Timothée. 

You’d never had a heart attack, but you were sure you had just experienced one. 

Timothée. 

With some headphones around his neck and a pencil behind his ear, just outside Tom’s trailers as he was leaning over to read something on the person beside him.

Timothée. 

 He looked calm, and unaware that you were there. A white t-shirt, pair of jeans, and his curls flying. 

Timothée. 

You stopped abruptly, as Tom bumped against your shoulder. You froze, everything was getting blurry. This jeopardized everything you’d planned. 

“Y/N--What?” Tom frowned as he followed your gaze and then he saw him. A frown appeared upon his face. “Is that mister boring?” 

“Yes shut up I’m freaking out,” you snapped. 

Tom scoffed. “You’ve got to be kidding me. What were the odds?” 

“Sh.” 

Tom watched you, and mockingly laughed. “What?” 

“Oh my god, I can’t…” 

“God look at him, he looks so boring,” Tom pointed out. 

This was life laughing at you. “Can you please stop calling him boring?” 

“You can do so much better than Mister… ,” Tom rolled his eyes. “Timothée,” Tom poisoned, accentuating each and every letter.  

“Shut up.” 

This was chaos. And Timmy finally looked up and directed his sight at you, those caramel eyes glazed right upon you, and you saw him, and there was that smile, perfect smile that had made you fall in love with him. He looked so divine, so fresh, as if he was floating. An angel. 

How the fuck were you going to flirt around with the devil if your angelic ex boyfriend whom you still loved was going to be around? 

“Y/N?” Timothée mouthed as he dedicated another smile at you. 

You finally breathed in some courage and smiled at him, approaching him. 

“Y/N, what are you doing here?” He asked, softly, as his eyes were only on you. He had his ways making you feel like you were the only person in the whole world. 

“I-” 

“Timmo! Hello,” Tom intruded. “Hey, she’s my assistant, the real question is what are you doing here?” 

Timothée finally looked up at Tom. “Thomas,” he said calmly. “Oh, really?” He turned his sight back to you. “Why didn’t you tell me, love--” he cleared his throat. “Y/N that uh, you’d be working with him.” 

“I..” 

“She doesn’t have to tell you everything, man,” Tom interrupted you for the second time. You nudged him. 

“I just… didn’t think it was a big deal, but what are you doing here?” 

“I’m kind of… an assistant of someone’s assistant, but hey, I’m part of the crew,” Tim grinned at you. 

Tom watched between you both. 

“Hey um, but what about your script?” 

“She’ll have time to write it,” Tom pushed. 

“I can talk for myself Tom, uh, here,” you handed him the keys to his trailer. “Why don’t you freshen up before we go over to makeup?” 

Tom frowned. “Um, no, actually, I need you to come with me, I need to discuss some things,” Tom crossed his arms. 

“Really? Even if we went through all of it?” You frowned. 

“Yes, something just came up,” Tom smirked. 

You wanted to hit him. 

Timothée cleared his throat. “Maybe we can… talk later, okay? Later on a break?” Tim offered. 

“Yeah, for sure,” you smiled at him but then Tom motioned to the trailer. 

He walked in and you were quick to close the door. 

“What is wrong with you?” 

Tom scoffed. “I’m doing you a favour, y/n.” 

“A favour?” You were about to kill him, but you didn’t. You remembered it. You were supposed to start liking him. “You know what? Whatever. Hurry up. We need to go straight into makeup, I’ll wait for you outside. 

You were about to storm off before Tom stopped you. 

“What?” 

“Give me a smile,” he grinned. 

You raised your middle finger at him and then stormed out. This wasn’t going to be easy. 

However, he was rather decent after it, you went through makeup, wardrobe and eventually you were there, watching him walk into the set. You had a bottle of water waiting for him, along everything else he’d asked you. 

He had been asking for a lot of things, every time he was sure that Tim was somehow close, Tom would bring up the most stupid request, and then add ‘please y/n, dear.’ 

He was terrible. 

But you sat down, now ready to watch the scene. The director was giving him notes, and Tom was nodding, listening to him as he was getting ready. One of the things you had to admit that you loved about him, was his commitment, and even if you hated him, you knew he was very good at his job. Even the adorable facade he pulled to the world. You were very aware he was nice, and there were things that made you genuinely smile about him, but of course, he had a whole different persona when it came to you, and that’s when the magic simply stopped. 

But you watched him as the light was falling to him, the frame was him and only him, even if he was not really doing much, you loved how he would change from whatever he was being and turn into an actual professional. And he looked attractive, even if the makeup he was wearing now covered the freckles you loved. And your mind wandered, a spring frame, maybe even beginning of summer, of strawberries and the sun shining, a turquoise bike and a race towards the ice cream parlour. Memories, memories, memories. 

 But you cleared your throat, not wanting to stare too much, even if the tight clothes he was wearing had you thinking. You thought it was ironic, even, 80’s type of clothing they’d chosen, and he… Had you thinking thoughts. Sins. But, honestly who wouldn’t sin with a devil like him? 

But you looked away because you knew yourself, you knew the effect Tom had on you, and hell after that night, the effect had grown stronger. 

You decided to look around, as you were trying to look up for Timmy.

Someone tapped on your shoulder. 

“Hey,” someone whispered in your ear as you jumped in surprise, but finally turned your head to see Timothée standing right behind you. 

“Hi,” you whispered as he grinned. 

“Sorry for… scaring you,” he cleared his throat. “I didn’t mean to-” 

“No, no you’re good, it’s okay, I just didn’t expect to see you here,” you admitted, your voice lowered as you finally laid your attention back on him. 

“Yeah, it’s weird,” he chuckled. “Usually after a breakup, you don’t have to see your ex working with… Well,” he bit his lip, as he motioned for you to walk away with him, further from the cameras and mics. 

“Yeah, with one of the reasons for the breakup,” you clicked your tongue. “But I mean.” You dug your hands into your pockets. Another reason as to why you hated Tom was that he’d been so delicate on trying to push you and Tim away from each other. 

“You saw it, didn’t you? What I meant,” he sighed. 

You looked away. “Tim.” 

“He’s obsessed with you,” Tim scoffed as he shook his head. “And I can’t blame him, honestly, I am completely obsessed with you, too,” he grinned and you just smiled to yourself. “But… Well, it’s not exactly comforting to… you know.” 

“He’s not obsessed with me, he doesn’t even like me,” you shrugged as you turned to see Tom as he was still listening to the director, too focused to know. “He’s… only trying to find ways to bother me.” 

“Don’t you think that’s…” Timmy licked his lips. 

“I can’t blame him, I kind of do the same,” you confessed, chuckling slightly. “Anything to see him angry.” 

He pushed back a lost strand of hair. “Hm, maybe this is for the best, maybe right now we can finally spend time together.” 

But you knew that the distance in your relationship hadn’t really come from actual space, you’d been emotionally distant to each other. However, when you looked into his eyes, maybe everything was forgotten. How could you not get lost into the way he looked at you? 

But you couldn’t think about it now, you had something very important to do. Yet you couldn’t forget it, an autumn frame, with leaves falling down, as you ran towards him and you laughed as the night was fading in, eating cherries, and kissing him, once, twice and forever. 

You coughed, as you avoided his gaze, coming back to normality. 

“Tim, I…” You cleared your throat. “There’s something.” 

“Why do I feel like I won’t like that something?” He scrunched his nose. 

You licked your lips as you turned away, and you noticed Tom, you caught him staring. He quickly turned back to the director. 

“I just really meant what I said, I need time right now,” you gulped. “I don’t think I can emotionally commit to anything, can we… please be friends?” 

Timmy bit his lip but then grinned. “I’ll have to live with that,” he sighed. “But please don’t mind if I stare too long, I can’t help it, y/n. I’m an Icarus, remember?” 

You nudged him. “Don’t fly too close to the sun,” you warned him. 

He smiled. “C'mere, I’ll show you something cool,” he said as he led the way close back to where they were filming. They hadn’t started yet, but you saw Tom. 

Tom gave you another glance and then ignored you. 

You felt guilty, and weren’t sure why. But then you turned your attention to Timmy, who pointed out the lights on the set, and then to some props and explained what they meant and how it revolved around the story, and it was fascinating, knowing that little things that didn’t seem important would turn out to be so important. 

“The story is hidden between the little details,” Tim said. “Like that flower pot, you see it?” He pointed to it. 

“Yeah.” 

“It’ll change through scenes, the pot will get darker as…” Timmy explained. 

“Right,” you grinned. 

But everyone started to shush everyone, they would start filming. 

-

You had been quiet for the rest of the day, you had received Tom’s lunch and hadn’t even said any words to him. You’d been thinking about… a lot of things, really. But mostly Timothée, and how this was wrong. Very, very wrong. But there were worse things you could do, right? 

Tom had decided to have his lunch in his trailer, and he’d invited you over with him. Of course, it probably was only because he didn’t want you around Timmy. 

“Y/N?” Tom called. “Aren’t you going to eat?” He asked as you were biting on your cheek, nervously staring at the food. 

“Hm? Oh, yes, sorry.” 

He watched you. “So… I saw you talking to…” Tom cleared his throat. “Timothée,” he pronounced his name dragging his tongue and pitching his voice. 

“Yeah.” 

He blew his cheeks. “Hey, I can… I can get another assistant if you’re uncomfortable being near him…”

You chuckled. “Trying to get rid of me already?” 

“No… I’m just… I don’t want you feeling sad,” he pointed out. 

“I’m not sad.” 

He shrugged. “Well, you look sad.” 

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Tom shrugged. “And it bothers me.” 

“Does it now?” You questioned. 

“It’s my job making you sad and I’m angry he’s doing it,” he grinned. 

You rolled your eyes. “Of course.” 

“What happened then?” He pushed. 

You looked away. “Nothing, Tom. We broke up, I told him we had to be friends for now, and that’s it.” 

Tom watched you, he seemed calculated. He probably wanted ways to make you feel bad, that was Tom. Amazing memory when it comes to annoy you.

“Why did you break up?” 

Distance. Him. Harry. Timothée knowing you got tired of waiting before and thinking you’d settled with him. Dreams that had to be changed for plans, and plans which involved being away. Timothée pointing out you had had feelings for Tom. You probably did. Timothée pointing out Harry was probably in love with you. You, being aware of it, but deciding to ignore it, or not accept it. Selfish conversations. Jealousy. Long conversations that turned into small talk. Because you felt like strangers. Intimacy was gone. No more sparks. Secrets that you both held. Tom. Because you’d gotten drunk once and said something about Tom that one shouldn’t say when you’re dating someone.  

That was a summary. 

“I… well, it’s too complicated.” A summary he didn’t deserve to know. 

Tom shrugged. “Why?”

There was a part of you that was thinking about how you could make someone fall in love. You thought about Timothée, you loved how sincere he was. Maybe being sincere could help you. Being vulnerable helps. 

“I think we fell in love very quickly and we didn’t stop to see if there was… anything else going on with us, like myself I—he just I dunno, we changed and we were so into the idea of who we were at the beginning.” You didn’t even know what you were trying to say. 

“I’m not following.”  

“I feel like,” you sincered yourself. “At least with me, it started out as… as me escaping from something else you know? I was trying to avoid other problems and it came as a simple solution but in the end I fell in love with him.” You didn’t regret falling in love with him. 

“Meaning?”

“It was kind of a—getaway,” you licked your lips. “Escaping, but not really. I had too many feelings just trying to explode and I— I just let my feelings explode into him, I guess I wanted to love someone and he walked in.”

“A rebound?” Tom questioned. 

“Not really.” Besides, you hadn’t talked about this with anyone, not even with Harry, or Sam. It felt wrong. 

“So you were looking for a fling?”

“Well, no, it’s complicated,” you admitted. “But I just… really loved him, you know? But he’s very observant, and he caught up on it.” 

“Observant, huh.”

“Yes and he pointed out things which I’ve been oblivious to, or maybe not oblivious but I was too dedicated to avoiding them that I forgot about them,” you sighed. 

“What kind of things?” 

“Stuff, I dunno,” you ran a hand through your hair. 

He watched you, carefully. “What do you see in him anyway? He’s boring.” 

You chuckled, slightly. “He’s brilliant, and besides, I can say more about him than that short skirt who asked you out today.” 

He smirked. “Jealous?” 

“What would I be jealous for?” You rolled your eyes. “If anything I’m thankful. I’m hoping she’ll be able to calm you and your horny ass down,” you bellowed. 

He laughed. “She won’t be, I won’t go out with her.” He shrugged with fake shame. 

You frowned. “Why not?” 

Tom clicked his tongue. “Because, she’s…” 

“Dull? Yeah, I noticed that too,” you chided. “Don’t date someone like her.” 

Tom grinned. “I wasn’t going to,” he surmised. “But, please do tell me,  what kind of people should I date?” 

You bit your lip as you gave it a thought. “Someone with layers,” you began. “Fun, and who can put up with all your shit.” 

He raised an eyebrow with a smug smirk. “Hm, sounds like someone like you?”

You laughed. “No, no, sweetheart,” you rolled your eyes. “Someone who can actually stand you”

He laughed as he moved his chair to be closer. “Since when do you care about who I date?” 

You watched him with curiosity. “I don’t,” you cleared out. “What? Did you want me to care? 

He coughed. “I love how you manage to change the subject to avoid talking about how boring your ex is.” 

You nudged him. “He’s not boring, he’s amazing.” 

“He’s not, I saw him explaining bloody props to you,” he laughed. “Props. God, he is boring, why did you date someone like him? He’s literally… Look, I remember this one time when he was rambling about some boring shit, see I can’t even remember what he said? And gosh, everything he says is so poetic, and it’s like bro calm down,” Tom said disgusted. 

“I like that,” you laughed. “Maybe he’s just too smart for you, your little brain cell can’t handle it.” 

He glared at you as he brushed his hand against your leg, you coughed looking at it. “Ha-ha, no, but really y/n, you should date someone fun, someone who can make you laugh.” 

You smirked. “Hm… Since when do you care about who I date?” You said, walking your own fingers through his arm. 

He shrugged. “I’ve always cared about that, don’t be silly,” he looked at you, as his hand stopped your fingers, and then played with your hand instead. 

“Oh, really?” 

“Yes, y/n, because you’ve paraded around with assholes, man, you’re really bad at choosing boyfriends,” he chuckled as his other hand landed on your knee. 

You laughed. “I do have a tendency to crush on assholes, I used to have a crush on you, remember?” You stated with pride as you lifted his chin. 

He laughed as he bit his lip. “Point proven.” 

You gulped and looked away. “But Tim is different.” 

“But he is boring,” he scooted closer, you were barely an inch far away. 

“He’s not.” You looked away

“What did you see in him?” He pushed again and turned your head to him. “Okay, was he good in bed?” He chuckled. 

You blushed. “Oh my god, you shouldn’t ask that.” 

He snickered softly as he leaned over closer. “All I’m asking, y/n, is…”He lowered his voice, you felt his hot breath against your lips. “...if he’s able to get you all flustered only by… playing this kind of game and,” he glanced down at your lips, as he placed a single peck upon the corner of your lips.

You didn’t even flinch. “Are you sure you’re not the one losing, though?” 

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