#but then i kept listening and started thumbnailing some frames

[crabsnpersimmons]

This one goes out to all the slow burn enjoyers, the dense Y/Ns, and the soft robo jesters that suffer in silence!

Inspired by @bamsara's “Solar Lunacy” fic.

If you feel like reading my ramblings and want to experience more heartbreak for fictional jester blorbos, check under the cut where I detail all the planning behind the frames!

so i heard this song for the first time in a while and the opening lyrics immediately made me think of moon, so i was daydreaming some scenes and then i decided to thumbnail some ideas:

and it all went downhill from there as everything became a metaphor and a parallel to each other, which i will now go into detail on!

you thought the animatic itself was sad?

*writing muse laughs maniacally* IT'S ALL A METAPHOR

Frame 1. "turn down the lights" We start with a back view on Moon. The lights are out, the Moon is out, but we do not see his face. The music and the greyscale atmosphere are enough to establish the weight of the moment and the weight on Moon’s mind.

Frame 2. "turn down the bed" We cut to a shot of Moon's body, kneeling on the ground of the daycare, like a padded cell. Moon’s hands are twitching with the effects of the glitch, with purple sparks coming from his hands. We still do not see his face.

Frame 3. "turn down these voices inside my head" Cut to an extreme close up on the dark half of Moon’s face. Now we see his face, but only a portion of it. His left eye is wide open, red and glitching out. The voices in his head can refer to the glitch but also his repressed feelings. Or maybe it could be Sun's voice in their shared headspace.

Frame 4. "lay down with me" Y/N's hand enters the frame from the upper right corner, lowering down to meet Moon where he kneels on the ground. Only a corner of Moon's face appears on the bottom left corner of the frame, his starry nightcap beginning to cover his glitched left eye.

Frame 5. "tell me no lies" An full shot of Moon on the floor and Y/N standing in front of him with their hand stretched towards him. A light spills out from behind Y/N, creating a boundary between them.

Now we see more of Moon. It is only when Y/N enters the frame—enters his world—that Moon’s body is shown in its entirely. When Y/N is here, he is no longer fragmented. He is whole.

Frame 6. "just hold me close" pspspspsps Playfully, Moon extends his own hand, beckoning Y/N to come closer, to join him. His right hand crossed over his body as he uses the playful gesture to hide his true feelings—to put distance between him and Y/N. His hat continues to cover his glitching left eye. He doesn’t want to worry Y/N.

Frame 7. "don't patronize" In response, Y/N’s hand pats Moon on the head, returning his playfulness. Moon looks surprised by the action. Moon, notably, does not lower his hand—perhaps he has forgotten it or perhaps his invitation is still open.

Frames 8-9. "don't patronize me" Moon rotates his faceplate so Y/N��s hand is touching the side of his faceplate, a more intimate gesture than a head pat. However, his hat is in the way. At this angle, his starry nightcap fully covers his glitchy eye and the dark side of his face, hiding his defect and acting as a veil between him and Y/N. A self-imposed boundary. So close, yet thinly separated. It's better this way. It's safer this way.

The lyrics are broken up by Y/N's arm, both to illustrate how the song is sung ("patronize" is drawn out and "me" is briefly added in before the chorus starts) but also to show how Y/N interrupts Moon's resolve, highlighting the irony between the visuals and the lyrics. Demanding not to be patronized, yet Moon happily accepts this play at intimacy. Don't patronize me, I am weak for it.

This is also the only instance where the red light of Moon's eyes glow and tint the surfaces around it. Visually, it makes it look like Moon is blushing (heavily inspired by @restinsodaroni's art). But also, in this moment of honesty, Moon's intrinsic light spills out, colouring the greyscale world. In this brief moment of honesty, Moon touches the world with his own colours, his own light.

(and this is also where i forgot to clean up the shading on Y/N's arm, but it's okay it doesn't need to be perfect it simply needs to be. And Moon will still love Y/N even if they are a continuity error.)

Frame 10. "'cause I can't make you love me if you don't" A parallel to a frame 4, Y/N retrieves their hand away and immediately Moon is reduced to the corner of his faceplate in the frame. Only now his glitched eye is fully covered by his hat.

The lyrics here (and in the next frame) in particular grow lighter to emphasize Moon's diminishing resolve and agency.

From here on out, the lyrics here are broken up, carrying on this theme of fragmentation. Y/N is pulling away, Moon is breaking up, the words are breaking up. Everything is coming apart.

Frame 11. "you can't make your heart feel something it won't" Y/N turns to leave. The lyrics, broken up as before, highlight the irony of the situation. Y/N, a human, can’t feel something they simply don’t feel. Whereas, Moon, the machine, feels something his code never intended him to feel.

Frame 12. "here in the dark in these final hours" Another full shot that parallels frame 5, as Y/N steps towards the light and Moon leans forward into the space Y/N once occupied. Y/N is leaving—that which makes him whole is leaving. And he is only capable of making it to the boundary where the light cuts into the darkness. The "final hours" suggest it might be the end of Y/N’s shift, or perhaps this scene takes place right before the glitch takes over—the final hours that Y/N has with the true Moon. Either way, time is running out—and only Moon knows it.

There is a contrasting display of body language here. Moon is on the floor leaning towards Y/N with his hand still left out. Whereas Y/N is turned away, walking away, and has already slipped their hand away and into their pocket. Y/N is closed off while Moon is limply open. Y/N is actively moving while Moon is on the floor, waiting, hoping, for that which he lacks the agency to reach for himself.

Frame 13. "I will lay down my heart" A close up on Moon’s hand, rising up again, perhaps to beckon Y/N back once more. This is a slight parallel to Y/N's hand reaching out to Moon. While Y/N can freely reach out and touch Moon, Moon cannot. He can't enter the light and more importantly he can't risk potentially harming his relationship with Y/N—be it through the glitch or by his feelings. He can only lay down his heart—put aside his feelings or hope that someone will pick up his pieces and make him whole.

Frame 14. "and I'll feel the power" Still on a close up on Moon’s hand, now clenched in slightly. This initially was going to have the glitch effects. However, I felt it more meaningful for it to be left without. Leave it up for interpretation why Moon pauses his hand. What is the power that he alone feels and stays his hand?

Frame 15. "but you won't, no, you won't" A parallel to frame 1, a view of on Moon's back with his hand stretched out towards the light, and Y/N walking into the light spilling through the open daycare door.

The placement of the lyrics suggest two different “you won’t”—Y/N who won’t realize Moon’s feelings, and Moon who won’t dare speak them into reality.

Another note on the parallel to frame 1, this time we also see Y/N's back, but it is notably different from our view of Moon's back. With Moon, we literally see inside him through the hole for his loop. However, Y/N is shrouded in shadow, just a solid, obscure silhouette against the bright light of a world Moon—and Sun for that matter—are closed off from. We don’t see into Y/N, just as the Daycare Attendant doesn't have any vantage point of Y/N's life beyond their time at the PizzaPlex. (The unfortunate reality of a being a character made for the purpose of being a vessel for the reader.)

Frame 16. "'cause I can't make you love me" We finally cut to face Moon head-on, frozen in place with his hand stretched out, unable to cross the boundary into the light. His eyes have gone dark. Where we began by seeing bits and parts of Moon, and never seeing his full face—now we, the viewer, see the full Moon, open and vulnerable—unbeknownst to Y/N.

Frame 17. "if you don't" But in the dark, behind closed doors, there is no one to perceive him—no one to receive him. The light dwindles as the daycare doors are closed. Moon stays frozen where he kneels. It is no longer the glitch that plagues him, but a far deeper dread.

But a lone streak of light peaks through the gap in the daycare doors. Perhaps that is just enough. A silver lining. A frail hope. A single, ethereal thread out of darkness and into light.

Thanks for reading and watching!

We'll be back to our regularly scheduled fun and games shortly!

[unnaturalequilibrium]

So, hi. It's me again, yeah, me with the obscure recommendations I try to peddle like designer drugs to over-privileged teenagers brandishing their parents black card. But listen *slowly opens trenchcoat* I've got something real special for you this time. It's called 66th North Precinct (check out the trailer).

Back when I watched Bitter Daisies I kept going on about how that trope or the archetype of a stoic detective who is competent in their professional life, but is a bit of a fumble fuck when it comes to expressing their own emotional existence is a perfect fit for a lesbian character and that point still fucking stands. And apparently the Universe is paying attention to some of the fuckery I spew and occasionally even hands me exactly what I ask for. Because this - was it.

You’ve got the main character of Maria who is a retired professional boxer turned police detective who struggles with finding meaning in her work and feeling settled in her life. Surrounding her are her various oddball family members, friends and colleagues who are equal measures helpful and unintentionally hurtful as she navigates a world that is no longer as straightforward as when she was younger and had no real responsibilities beyond winning the next match. On the tin you’ve seen this in some format before, only difference is that for once this character is actually a lesbian with a wife and two kids. But without that being an issue, or well it is the issue as she deals with trying to balance responsibilities and professional fulfillment. So being married and having a family is part of the conflict of this story, but what isn’t a problem however is her homosexuality. Same thing as how Maria’s wife Essi struggles with her relationship with her parents-in-law, but not because of any signs of homophobia but because she’s from the “big city” which in this context is a bit of an offense.

Basically this is the kind of story straight people usually get, but we seldom do. There are no coming outs, no gay panics, no navigating a hateful world. Instead it’s rather simple; it’s wives arguing about domestic things, struggling with communication, supporting each other emotionally and professionally and trying to find time for each other as kids, work and family need to be juggled. It's drama without the dramatics. All of that in the setting of a crime procedural that mixes dry humour with the serious and feels deeply melancholic (vemodigt) in a way that I think only Nordic fiction can be.

But even if the marriage is written in the same way a straight couple would be the character Maria Pudas is the kind of main character you will recognize, the dumbass stoic who is so gay coded all you need are the thumbnails for the episodes to know she’s supposed to be a dyke (posture, styling, yeah just the whole shebang). No, true story, bro. Only reason I started watching was because I was looking through what was on streaming, saw the show, clicked the episode list and got preemptively annoyed because I have seen this before, the perfect lesbian character that never is allowed to be gay. Sure I know judging a book by its covers is uncool and all, but sometimes we do the duck a disfavour by pretending it doesn't know how to quack.

Despite my annoyance I decided that "what the fuck I hear turquoise and self-flagellation is in this spring" and I went against my better judgment and pressed play. And as feared each frame had my eye twitching a little more irregularly as the gay ramped up, but when it was revealed she had a son I had enough, experience have thought me the next scene would then introduce a husband and I couldn’t take that shit again. I refused to lose yet another potentially awesome lesbian character to sloppy straight washing. Luckily I was so completely drained of energy that reaching for the remote took longer than it should have and during that painstaking process another woman showed up on screen and she too acted like the son’s mother -  so there I was frozen in place with spasming core muscles as it slowly unfolded that yes, they were introducing her spouse, but turns out that for once the writers had some guts and Maria Pudas was a lesbian and she and her wife were in fact quacking their asses off. Carefully and with narrow slitted eyes I placed the remote back on my coffee table and almost reluctantly was treated. Treated damn well.

This was the after of the happily ever of that romance novel both of us have probable read, you know the one about the boxer who got a concussion and met a doctor she couldn't get out of her system. I mean, honestly I am going to call you a liar if you say you've never read a lesbian romance book or fanfic with a plot along those lines. This was basically the follow up of what happen after they get married. I get though that some people don't want the after part and for others I think this show might be a bit too slow paced and not flashy enough, it's not the CW, but rather it's government funded raggsock drama. That's not for everyone, I get that, but I really do hope you give it a go, because if nothing else it warmed me straight to my core to get so many continuous displays of romantic intimacy between two women. I mean we've been handed sweeps kissing since the late 90s, but I think I can count on my left hand the number of times I've seen something that just shows you simple romantic but non-sexual intimacies between women.

Unfortunately I don't know if you can find it will English subtitles anywhere accessible, but the episodes are up on yle's streaming site which is free with a Finnish vpn: Pohjoisen tähti

If you do find a way to watch come talk to me about what a hoot Maria's boss is, how Niko needs locking up on occasion so he stops interrupting and what the hell are we going to do about this urge to go snowboarding in Lapland?!

[webangchan]

✜ live feed ✜ felix x fem!reader 1.3k words kinks and warnings: sub!felix, dom!reader, camboy!felix, felix wearing a skirt, dirty talk, minor degradation, cum eating, masturbation.

Running across his profile a month ago had been an accident, believe it or not. 

Your sleepless nights had been catching up with you, and the threat of another eight hours tossing and turning in bed was enough to make you want to pull your hair out. But what could you do? You’d tried practically everything: taking over-the-counter sleep aids, drinking warm milk, cutting back on caffeine, meditating - none of it seemed to help.

With the clock on your nightstand announcing it was nearly two in the morning, you knew you had to do something, anything. Your phone was tucked away in the other room so that you couldn’t check it every five minutes  -- another attempt at sleeping better -- so you hastily grabbed your laptop from the floor next to your bed. With just a couple of keystrokes, you had a familiar article open. If the first ten methods hadn’t worked, maybe the eleventh would.

“Masturbate!”

You had laughed at the time, but whether from exhaustion or desperation, you clicked over to your favorite x-rated website. Not wanting to waste another thirty minutes clicking around to find the perfect video, your impatience got the best of you as you clicked the first appealing thumbnail you saw. 

That’s how you found SubbySunshine’s live feed and ended up sleeping well for the first time in weeks.

And that’s why you kept coming back.

You watch eagerly as the guy in front of the camera runs his hands over his bare thighs, digging his nails into the soft skin as he goes. As always, the webcam is angled so that you only see him from the neck down. He’s too shy, too “innocent” to let anyone know what he does in the late hours of the night, he’s said before. 

But the way his right hand squeezes his bulge through the fabric of the skirt he’s wearing makes you have your doubts. 

Apparently other viewers think so, too. Sunshine, as he refers to himself, giggles when someone donates a large amount of gold and he reads the accompanying message. “What do you mean you don’t think I’m innocent?” he asks, trailing his hand up his lithe body and dragging his cropped sweater up with it before ultimately tossing it off-frame. “You don’t think I’m some type of dirty slut, do you?” 

His voice is deep, deep enough to have you rubbing your thighs together in anticipation. You’ve watched enough videos by now to know that Sunshine likes to take his time before getting to the good part. It’s not in a bratty way; it just seems like he wants to give his viewers their money’s worth. 

But you’re getting antsy. Deciding that it wouldn’t hurt to skip getting coffee and breakfast a few mornings next week, you send through twenty dollars worth of gold. “Let’s see what’s under those clothes a little faster, Baby,” you type, hoping the tip and the message will get his attention.

With another laugh, Sunshine runs his finger back down his abs. “Thanks for the gold, Cutie,” he says, running his hand over his cock again. “You’re so demanding, huh? Bet you’d love to be here with me, have me on my knees telling me what to do.” 

He drags his skirt up a little more, revealing the red tip of his dick while the rest remains covered. You’ve seen it enough times to know how pretty it looks, how delicate his hands look when they wrap around him as he gets himself off for your pleasure. 

Not that you’d mind seeing it again. He’s already got you hot and bothered, and you want nothing more than to watch him make a mess on his stomach or the skirt. Hell, you don’t want it. You need it.

“Like what you see?” he asks, almost as if he can read your mind. “I’d love to show you more, if you’d like. You know how much I love being a good boy for you.”

You don’t hesitate to send through more gold. You’re certain other viewers do too, but you can’t say for sure. You’re too busy tugging down your shorts and spreading your legs, wanting to get off just as badly as Sunshine does. 

His breathing labors a bit as he pulls the skirt up even higher, letting it rest around his waistline. He grabs some lube from a nearby nightstand, and as soon as he wraps a hand around his dick, he lets out a soft, contented sigh. He lets his head fall back, putting his neck on full display while still hiding his identity, short of the blond tips of his hair.

“Feels so good,” he says, stroking his cock up and down. “But it’d feel even better if you were the one doing it for me, wouldn’t it? Knowing you, you’d probably tease me for hours before finally touching me. Look how hard I’d be, all for you. So good to me.”

More gold comes rushing as Sunshine fucks up into his fist. You send some more yourself, telling him to use his other hand to play with his nipples. You’re not sure if he sees the message or not, but he must; before you know it, his left hand is pinching his nipple, giving torturous tugs. 

His actions have you rubbing yourself through your underwear, your panties soaked from what’s playing out in front of you. He looks so pretty - skin flushed, thin body trying to stay composed as he chases his high. 

“Tell me what you’d -- fuck, please -- do with me if I were with you,” he says, obviously slowing down for a few seconds to stave off his orgasm. “Want to make you feel as good as you make me feel.”

A variety of comments come flooding in. “Would love to fuck that pretty mouth while you touch yourself.” “Bet that tight little asshole would feel good around my cock.” “Gonna come on your face and make you clean it up.”

They all give you ideas, but you have your own addition in mind. “Be a good boy for me and let me sit on your face while I play with your cock.”

As his pace quickens up again, Sunshine groans reading through the comments. “Yeah, use me. Just like that, like I’m your fucktoy,” he says. “Shit, ‘m gonna - gonna come all over myself, make a mess on this pretty skirt I just got. Fuck.”

You’re reaching your own high, and you’ve barely even gotten started. Between knowing your own body and listening to Sunshine get himself off, it’s easy to tip yourself over the edge. Your toes curl as the boy on screen spills onto his stomach and the skirt, letting out a whine in pleasure. 

Using two fingers, he scoops some up and brings it towards his mouth. Although you can’t see it, you just know the sight of him tasting his own cum is gorgeous, even if a bit depraved. You find yourself wondering how he tastes, wishing you were there to help him clean up.

As you clean yourself up, you can hear him telling his viewers that he needs to go now, wishing them a good night and sweet dreams. It seems genuine enough, and for a brief second, you wonder what he’s like outside of his livestreams. Is he really that sweet? That delicate? That submissive?

When you get back to your computer, ready to close it and call it a night, you notice a notification waiting for you. Figuring it must be someone from the live chat wanting to commiserate about having to get off to porn instead of having a partner to hook up with, you open it. What you’re expecting isn’t at all what you get, though.

“SubbySunshine wants to chat with you!”

[differentkettleoffishalltogether]

A Lick of Paint

Summary: Spencer has no idea his best friend is harboring a secret talent

A/N: This was is one-shot request from a little while ago! I hope you guys enjoy it 

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (Artist!Reader)

Category: Fluff & Smut

Warnings/Includes: smut, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, riding, paint is involved (but it doesn’t go anywhere it shouldn’t), please let me know if there’s anything I’ve missed!

Word count: 3.6k

Request: “Would u do one where it’s a fem!reader x spencer (smut or fluff what ever feels right) where they’re best friends and the reader is very private and one day spencer comes over to her apartment and sees that she’s a really talented painter/drawer/artist ? Thank u!!”

Masterlist

— —

He didn’t have a crush on her. No way. She was just his best friend, nothing more. Just his best friend who he thought about all the time, his best friend who he knew everything about, who he couldn't wait until tomorrow to see.

They got in from their latest case at half past midnight, he was a night owl, and he knew she was too, so why would she mind him showing up uninvited? He hadn’t seen her in 15 days and he probably could wait one more, but he really didn't want to.

Showing up at her door after 1am with a bottle of wine and some snacks he took a minute to run his fingers through his hair and straighten out his shirt before he knocked on the door. He could hear a rustling from the other side, and he could see the light shifting about beneath the door frame. So she was home, and she was awake, and he was trying to suppress his eager little smile.

“You can’t keep calling over this late Mrs. Warner! I don’t have any of your mail—Spencer!” she says it in a little yelp as she pulls the door completely open. And she's standing in front of him in nothing but an oversized button up shirt, her hair’s all messy around her head and there’s a little pencil tucked behind her ear.

He’s not really sure what’s going on but he’s sure that he likes it.

“Just me” he pulls his lips into a small smile and gives a tiny little wave with his free hand, shaking the bottle of wine in his other. “I hope I’m not intruding, we just got in earlier than I thought we would and I figured you’d still be up”

As he’s explaining she’s shutting the door slightly again, hiding her body behind it just a little. And even if he wasn’t a profiler he’d know she was uncomfortable, so he starts to shake his head.

“You know what, don’t worry about it! I can come back another time— or I can— I can give you some space if you need it? This was a stupid idea anyway, I should go— I’m gonna go!” he knows he sounds stupid, he’s a rambling mess but before he can properly retreat she’s swinging the door open fully again, reaching out for him and just grabbing him by the strap of his satchel.

“No Spencer wait! I’m happy to see you, I really am” she pulls him to the doorway, letting him step inside. “It’s just— messy? And you haven’t seen my apartment like this before” she’s rushing it out once he gets inside, placing her hands on his shoulders to try and spin him around before he can catch a glimpse of the state of her living room.

“Just gimme a second to tidy—”

“Do you— are you an artist?” he’s not even listening to her anymore, he’s completely fixed on the pages and sketchbooks all scattered around her living room. The sofa is pulled back to create space for the huge canvas that’s spread out all over the floor. Paints and brushes all lined up next to it.

“No!” she shakes her head, “Well not really, I just, I draw sometimes, and paint I guess? But it’s just for me” she’s still got her hands on his shoulders, trying to turn him around in spite of the fact that he’s already seen everything she was trying to hide. Or had managed to keep hidden until now.

“You never told me?” he just looks confused now more than anything, but his eyes are still blown wide as he starts to walk towards the area of the room covered in her materials.

“It’s really nothing Spencer, I didn’t want to tell you, because then you’d want to see, and then I wouldn’t want to show you, or I would show you, and then you’d hate it, and you’d just tell me you liked it to be nice, and I can tell when you’re lying Spencer, and I couldn’t handle that. So yeah, I didn’t tell you. But I haven't told anyone.” she’s not looking at him when she speaks anymore, her hands are just wrapped tight around her body protectively. This felt like she was so entirely exposed.

She had only kept two secrets from him all these years. Her art. And her unending infatuation for him. How could she not let him in when he showed up at her front door so excited, and looking so cute in his little sweater with his messy curls.

“Hey” he reaches out, placing a gentle hand on her forearm, coaxing her to unwrap them. So they fall to her sides and she feels even more exposed now. “If you want me to go, I’ll go. If you want me to stay, I’ll stay. If you want me to stand out in the hall while you hide all of this stuff, and then we pretend none of this happened, I’ll get comfy out there right now. But I just need you to know that I love you very much, and I’d support anything you ever choose to do. And I know what I want shouldn't factor in, but for what it’s worth, I would like to see some of your work— It doesn't have to be now! But just, if you ever wanted to show me anything, I’d love to see it.”

She can feel how earnest the words are, and she knew he loved her, but it was always so nice to hear it out loud, coming from those gorgeous pink lips. She wants to speak but the words feel like they’re almost caught in her throat when she looks up at him, she has to force them out.

“I’ll show you” she breathes, “I want to show you”

His eyebrows shoot up as she speaks, “I didn't mean— you don’t have to!” he rushes out as she goes to fetch one of her sketchbooks from the ground, handing it to him.

“I want to, honestly. If someones going to see this stuff, I want it to be you” once the sketchbook’s in his grip and out of her hands completely she walks away from him, going to sit on the ground next to the canvas. Right where she’d been sitting when he knocked on the door earlier.

Neither of them say a word while he goes through it page by page. It doesn't occur to her that she’s not sure which one she handed him until she can hear footsteps approaching her from behind.

When he sits down beside her he’s got the sketchbook open to a double spread and she recognizes it instantly.

“Are these drawings of me?” he asks, and it’s almost a whisper, like he doesn’t want to scare her. But she nods.

“Um, yeah. There’s actually a bunch of you in these sketchbooks. Your bone structure is just— I don't know— it’s nice to look at” his lips curve up in a small smile at that.

“You think I’m nice to look at?” he teases and she rolls her eyes,

“From an artistic perspective, you're interesting” she tries to walk it back.

“So now I’m just interesting?” he asks, a little smug now that he can tell she’s nervous.

“That’s not what I said!” he starts to chuckle then, closing the notebook and placing it down on the ground behind him.

“Relax, I’m messing with you, and for what it’s worth I think you’re nice to look at too. From any perspective” those few words make her forget where she is completely, they make her feel an entirely different kind of worry than the one she’d been experiencing earlier.

“And I love your work. You said you could tell when I was lying, am I lying?” he’s looking straight into her eyes as he speaks, and she can feel the way her heart is palpitating.

“No, you’re, uh, you're telling the truth” she shakes her head, but his eyes stay focused on her.

“What’s going on this canvas then?” he asks with a smile, and she breaks the eye contact so she can grab another one of her notebooks to show him some of the thumbnails she’d drawn for it.

“This is the idea, I think I need to practice it on something smaller though, just to get a feel for it” she explains as she points to the different shapes on the page, but then Spencer gets an idea.

“Use me” he says, and she just looks at him perplexed, “You said I was interesting, use me as your canvas?” he pulls off his cardigan as he speaks, rolling up his shirt sleeves to expose his bare arms.

“Spencer, I meant like, a smaller sheet or something, not your arm!” she’s laughing it off, mostly because being in close contact like that with him would probably break her.

“Well use my back then” he says it like it’s obvious, taking off his tie, then unbuttoning his shirt from the top, getting to the third button before she reaches out to stop him.

“You don’t have to do that” she says it with a laugh, like her heart’s not beating out of her chest from the little glimpse of bare skin she can see through the open part of his shirt.

He looks straight into her eyes as he speaks, “I want to.” the words settle in the air between them and they come to a silent agreement. Her hands falling from his so that he can undo the rest of his buttons, shrugging out of his shirt so that she can see his bare torso.

He sits like that for a second, awaiting instructions.

“Um, you should lie down on your front” she says, gesturing to the canvas laid out on the ground, “Wait!” she calls out as he moves to lie down, “You should probably take off your trousers? I don’t wanna get paint on them or anything”

It’s the truth really, but it still feels silly to say out loud. Luckily he just laughs a little and takes them off, but the little clinking sound his belt makes does something to her breathing.

By the time he’s laying face down on the canvas, his head resting on his folded arms, she’s got her materials all lined up next to her. She kneels down beside him, but as she's about to start it occurs to her that this is the complete wrong angle to start the piece. And she knows where she needs to sit, but she’s got no idea how to ask.

“Spencer— I can’t really— this angle is a bit, um…” she stutters

“Maybe you should sit on me?” he asks, uncharacteristically calm, maybe it was the way her voice kept going up an octave, or how fast her heart had been beating almost this entire time, but something made him realize that he wasn’t the nervous one here for maybe the first time since he’d known her.

“You would— You don't mind?” she asks before even moving, and he smiles to himself.

“How could I?”

With that she climbs in top of him, resting a leg either side of his hips. She’s painfully aware that the only thing separating them now is the thin layer of each of their underwear. But she pushes the thought aside as she gets to work.

Spencer’s quiet and well behaved for most of it, only remarking every now and again when the paint was cold against his skin, or when he had to move just a little. All in all she’s finished within an hour.

“Are you finished?” he asks, his eyes closed, relaxing beneath her as she worked. There was something almost therapeutic about the feeling of the brushstrokes against his skin. But he hadn’t felt one for 3 whole minutes now.

“Yeah, sorry, I was just admiring it” she says, “I’ll take a picture for you” she reaches for her phone, snapping a quick photo. Then she sits up off of him and he misses the weight of her on top of him instantly.

When he sits up she sits down opposite him, handing over the phone so that he can take a look at the painting that adorned his back. He almost couldn’t tear his eyes away from it. The delicate lines, the striking colors, the perfect hands that had painted it.

“This is— I don’t even have the words” he says it in a hushed whisper, “I love it so much” she knows he’s telling the truth again, his eyes don't even look up from the screen to see her reaction, they’re still completely transfixed on the photo. When he does look up he’s smiling.

“Am I telling the truth?” he asks and she nods, but something about her nervous little expression, coupled with her sky-rocketing heart rate gives him the confidence he’s needed for years.

“What if I told that I’ve liked you for a very long time? Would I be telling the truth about that?” his smile is gone, instead it’s replaced with half-lidded eyes and softly parted lips.

For a second she’s not even sure if this is really happening, her eyes trail along his bare torso, taking in the tiny bits of paint that made it down his sides. When her eyes come back up to look in his own, still trained on her she can’t even speak, instead she’s lunging at him, pulling him in by the back of the neck and crashing their lips together.

She parts hers after a moment, allowing Spencer to slip his tongue inside, tangling with her own as his hands fly out to grab her by the waist, pulling her into his lap. When they break apart their chests are heaving, breathing ragged, staring straight into each others eyes.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long” he gasps before his lips are on hers again, hungry and eager.

Her hands start to roam all over his body, soothing over the planes of his skin, digging her fingernails in every now and again, forcing a little moan out of Spencer each time. When he finally grows too impatient his fingers start to work open the buttons on her oversized shirt.

After a minute he’s managed to get them all open and he can pull the shirt apart. As it slouches off of her shoulders he can see her underwear, it’s mismatched and there’s something endearing about it. The fact that neither of them anticipated this. But that was probably for the best, if he knew this is what he was going to do tonight his nerves would’ve gotten the better of him.

His hands are on her immediately, grabbing her breasts over the light cotton fabric, squeezing them gently as he presses his mouth against her neck, planting soft kisses all along it. She takes the time to shrug out of the shirt completely, and his hands snake behind her to unhook her bra and pull it off. Exposing her breasts completely for just a second before his mouth is on them. Cupping one in each hand and placing rough, sloppy kisses all over the soft skin as she moans above him.

“Spencer” she says it with a little gasp as his lips wrap around one of her nipples, just the sound of his name tumbling from her lips was enough to make him hard.

“I need you” she whimpers, and he's gone, bringing one of his hands down between her legs, ghosting over the crotch of her panties to feel the damp patch that had formed there.

“You’re so wet for me” he breathes against her ear, pushing one of his fingers harshly against the fabric, right against her clit, forcing another moan from deep in her chest.

“Fuck, I’ve been wet since I climbed on top of you” she moans, “I was worried you were gonna be able to feel it” she says with a breathy laugh.

“If I’d have been able to feel this,” he says, rubbing small circles over her panties, “then you wouldn’t have gotten to finish that painting”

Once he takes his fingers away she pushes him down by his shoulders, finally straddling the other side of his hips like she’d been thinking about doing for the past hour, or past several years. But he lets out a small yelp of protest.

“The painting!” he says as his back collides with the canvas but she chuckles.

“Fuck the painting” she leans in planting feverish kisses all along the expanse of his neck, sucking and biting in spots so that they’d hopefully leave little bruises later on.

From there they both give up on trying to preserve any of the art on Spencer’s back. Within a matter of minutes it was smeared all along the canvas beneath them. Along with some of the paint one, or both of them, had managed to knock over.

He’s not sure exactly how it happened but at one point he grips her waist and leaves a blue hand print along her skin from the paint he’d managed to put his palm in. When she catches sight of it she just lets out a small laugh.

“I don’t care” she says, when he’s looking up at her with just the smallest hint of worry, “As long as it doesn't get inside me we’re alright”

Before they get too messy she sits up off of him for a minute, taking off her panties and using them to wipe off the little bit of paint that had somehow ended up next to Spencer’s bottom lip. He lets out a small gasp as she traces the fabric along his skin and mutters a tiny, “Good as new” in her sultry sweet voice.

And then her lips are on his again as one of her hands snakes down in-between them to pull at the waistband of his boxers, she gets them down far enough to pull his cock out so that it was right in front of her. He was already achingly hard but something about the size of if in her nimble fingers made him twitch in her grip, leaking from the head with the anticipation.

“God, the things I want to do to you” she gasps as she pumps him up and down in long last strokes, squeezing every now and again as he squirmed underneath her, “But right now I need you inside me Spencer”

With that she rises up on her knees, hovering over him and lining his cock up right between her legs. She takes a second to tease him, running the head through her folds, so that he could feel and hear just how wet she was for him. Once he looks like he can’t take even one more second of the teasing she lowers her hips slowly, sinking down onto his length bit by bit. Right until her hips were flush with his own and he was buried completely inside of her.

They both had to take a minute to savor the feeling. The way she was so wet and warm around him, so tight that he could feel the way she clenched around him. 

The way he stretched her out so perfectly, filling her up in a way that made her think they might actually be made for each other.

And then she starts to move, pumping her hips up and down, leaning forward slightly so that she can rest her hands on his flushed chest for support. She starts off slow, almost at a teasing pace, taking him in as deep as she could each time.

“You feel even better than I imagined” he mutters, his hands coming up to grab her hips, leaving another set of handprints in their wake. “So perfect”

She leans down a little further so that she can place a small kiss on his lips.

“God, you do to! Didn’t know it could feel this good” she moans without really thinking about it, and then she realizes it’s the truth. Something about the anticipation made all of this feel so much better than it ever had with anyone else.

With his hands guiding her now, gripping her harshly, she starts to move faster. Working up and down with more force, both of them panting and moaning desperately as they grew closer and closer.

He’d dreamt about it, imagined it, thought about it, more times than he’d care to admit. But seeing her now, on top of him with her lips softly parted, little whines falling out of her as she hit her climax, he realized his mind could never do this justice.

“Fuck! Ah— Spencer, I’m gonna—” her hips slow to almost a stop, working up and down still but with staggered movements as she rides out her high. Thankfully Spencer’s only a second behind her and she can feel the way he's spilling inside of her, filling her up completely. Then she collapses flat onto his chest, both of them are covered in a sheen of sweat that almost makes their bare skin stick together.

“You’re covered in paint you know” is the first thing Spencer says, his fingers tracing along her back.

“You’re one to talk” she jokes, dragging her finger through the streak of red paint that had gotten on his neck somehow.

Then he finally turns his head, looking at the spilled and smeared paint that lay around them on the once bare canvas.

“I thought you needed this canvas for that painting?” he asks, but she just looks up at him with a smile.

“I think this turned out better”

– –

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[13atoms]

Deep Focus: Chapter 1 [Tom Hiddleston x Reader]

Summary: Tom’s a successful porn director with a romantic streak which proves very popular with his female audience. His resident porn actress and business partner has been with him through thick and thin, the two of them growing completely inseparable, even as her own career starts taking off.

But working in such close proximity is intense, and burgeoning feelings threaten to complicate their professional relationship.

Mature, smut, porn director!AU, ethical porn production discussion, porn-star-and-coworker!reader. Friends to lovers, slow-ish burn. [7.7k]

________________________________________________________

There was such a style to everything Tom wrote, everything he directed. A sincere passion that you suspected was always meant to be used elsewhere. You wondered if his craftsmanship was ever appreciated, on the other side of the screen, as strangers got hot and bothered watching each meticulously designed frame of his vision come to life.

Sure, it was porn. But Tom directed it like he could win an Oscar for ‘hot lifeguard pounded poolside’. This was his livelihood, his passion, and it was a damn shame he wasn’t award-season eligible.

The names would make you wince, as you saw them uploaded to the site, thumbnails and previews drawing in viewers by the million with their shots of heaving bodies and glistening sweat. Tom never called the videos such crass things. Not in his scripts. You would get copies titled ‘Romantic Night In’ or ‘Office Love Affair.’ He was a fan of sugar-coating what would be inside those innocuous white pages, a veneer of respectability which Tom insisted upon, regardless of how obvious the true nature of the videos was. But once the videos were sold, it was out of his hands. Your face contorted mid-faux-orgasm would be plastered across the site, and everyone involved would try and forget what happened.

Ignore the comments.

Keep moving.

You often wondered how Tom wound up in this place, with his sharply tailored suits and polished shoes, eloquent and educated, his words almost poetic as he directed mid-budget porn in hotel rooms and his studio day-in, day-out.

Then again, he never seemed particularly bothered by it. He gave each shoot his full attention, his full boundless enthusiasm and all the professionalism he could muster. You wondered how he balanced it, sometimes, the creative drive to press on with trying to be creative and shoehorn romance into films knowing that, ultimately, it was porn.

He had interviewed you like a real director might, talking about your life and experience and ambitions, almost apologetic when he had finally choked out ‘could you undress’, barely glancing at your naked form before he hired you as his first employee.

You asked him early on, while watching him try and assemble a fake restaurant-date set in the studio, complete with faux windows and an extra playing a waiter, why he bothered when three-minutes of good quality fucking footage would make him the same amount of money. He’d given you a strange smile, the wrinkles beginning to appear at the corners of his eyes, and shrugged.

“I make what I’d like to see.”

The words haunted you later, as your rather attractive co-star bent you over the white-cloth covered dining table and you allowed mewls and groans to escape your mouth without a second thought. Trying to avoid the muted blue of Tom’s eyes behind the cameraman.

Despite your reservations when you first started to work for him, Tom had won you over. His gentler, more romantic approach to pornography had a loyal following. Both of your pseudonyms garnered huge numbers of views across various platforms, and Tom was keen to cultivate a collection of female-friendly porn. Against all the odds, it was working.

And you loved working with him. He was a great director, and inspired writer, and a genuinely brilliant boss. He made sure you saw royalties, good pay, that everyone you worked with was screened and tested, always keeping you safe. Always.

Each time he called a wrap, passing you a robe and offering a meek congratulations on your performance, you found yourself more and more pleased you had wound up working with him.

“You really do have a talent,” he’d told you one day, distracting you as you discussed a new script in his office.

You were sat opposite him, Tom’s glasses perched on his head as he watched you read, your feet resting against the leg of his desk. You’d come in to your shared workspace to try some costumes out, to discuss new scenes, still recovering from a thoroughly exhausting shoot the day before. There were still light bruises around your wrists, and you caught Tom glancing at them worriedly each time your long-sleeved shirt slipped.

“I love that you’re such an actor,” he continued, hands tapping the desk as he spoke, “like, a real actor.”

Your eyes drifted across the script, scanning it with your bottom lip between your teeth. He always appreciated your input, wanting the ‘female fantasy’ in a lot of his work, and he’d timidly shown you some ‘student-professor’ script he’d been working on. He was like that, embarrassed in a way which you wouldn’t expect from a man with his considerable experience in adult entertainment. He was assertive, certain, even stern where it counted. But with just the two of you together, dancing around what was sexy and what wasn’t, he seemed desperate to avoid saying anything you might perceive as too ‘crude’.

“What do you mean?” you’d chuckled, still flicking through the first draft.

He only entrusted you with such early versions of his work – but that made sense. Your careers were symbiotic, tied to one another with an unspoken pact. He directed everything you were in, and you were in everything he directed.

It made sense.

“You don’t just… I don’t know. You never make my scripts seem silly. Or cheesy. You… you really try and make them feel real. I could write anything, and you’ll deliver the lines well. I was overseeing auditions earlier and... I just kept thinking none of them were you. I think you might be the best in the business.”

You rolled your eyes, offering him a disbelieving smirk, and he scoffed.

“I’m serious! I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

The weight of his words settled heavy in your chest, and you turned back to the script, frowning as you flicked through the loose-leaf pages. Tom fidgeted behind his desk, unhappy with losing your attention, but you ignored him.

“Here. If you want the fantasy to be believable, I think he needs to lock the office door. Make a show of it, you know. Cover my mouth,” you comment dismissively. Tom already has as pen in his hand, making notes. “It could be hot, maybe ‘Don’t make a sound or you can’t cum’, something like that. As if there’s other students in the corridor outside.”

Nodding, Tom dutifully wrote down your words, mouth slightly open in realisation as he listened.

“Don’t make a sound…” Tom repeated, and you felt yourself blush.

“Not… not that exactly,” you backtracked, “you’re the real writer! I just think, there needs to be some build up. A remind of the power dynamic. Him going straight to oral is a bit… fast. That could happen in any old plot, you know?”

You felt his eyes on you, looking up from the paper to spot Tom leaning back in his chair, a distant smile on his face.

“You really are the best,” he praised, “that’s great. I’ll do rewrites tonight.”

For a moment, you let his words hang heavy in the air. Then you blinked back at him, a slight frown pinching your forehead at his strange mood. He was calm, for once. Tom was usually a ball of enthusiasm, and you wondered if your dismissal of his words earlier had done something to hamper his spirit.

“It’s always easier to critique,” you dismissed, “I love the script, it’s great. I really think it’ll be good. Hot. Maybe I can wear a Britneyschool girl costume, or something?”

He frowned a little, pinching the bridge of his nose at the thought.

“No, weird. We’re going for University student, just… a nice pair of jeans or something.”

“Don’t they wear suits where you went, posh boy?” you teased, loving how it riled him up. “I’ll try and dress like a smart person.”

“You are smart, don’t give me that.”

You rolled your eyes, loving how you managed to fluster him, putting the script back on his cluttered desk as you reached for your bag. This was how your meetings always went, a few hours of notes, some teasing, and a hasty retreat once Tom told you the next shoot day you had to attend. You still had a few hours of social media to do for the last video you’d shot together, notes from Tom, and you lamented the sight of the sun setting outside of your shared office. You’d hoped for at least a bit of natural light today.

“I’m serious, you are!” Tom asserted, and you ignored him purposely as you shut down your laptop, preparing to take it home.

“Yeah, I know, whatever. Don’t work too late!”

“Rich coming from you,” he sighed, “it really doesn’t matter if we send that last edit late.”

“It matters to me! I’d quite like to get paid this week, you know?”

Tom sighed. The two of you tried to produce a couple of videos a week – one for Tom’s site and another to sell to a third party. It didn’t leave either of you with much free time, both of you left in the tiny office at all hours as you worked to keep up with demand.

“Very true. But I’d rather you got some sleep, you know I can help if you’re short on money,” he offered, shuffling papers on his own desk.

He was always quick to jump to an offer to help, and you tried to ignore the fondness spreading through your chest at his eagerness to look out for you. That gentle protectiveness which coursed through Tom was enough to make you melt.

He was one in a million, that was for sure.

“I’m fine, Tom. Thank you though, I’ll ask, if, y’know –”

“Do! Any time. Actually…”

Tom cut himself off, typing something into his phone, and your pocket buzzed with a notification.

“Get yourself a nice dinner.”

You checked your phone to see a transfer from Tom. It wasn’t a crazy amount, but too much for just dinner, and you huffed performatively as he grinned at you.

“No! Don’t be ridiculous –”

He barely made more than you, and you were certainly doing perfectly comfortably.

“Royalties are really good this month. That old break-up sex video is trending again, apparently.”

You smothered a smile. It was hate-fucking, as you’d told Tom a hundred times. That was the title. You could still remember the look on his face the day you’d filmed it, his twitchiness, the unknown male actor who had slightly scared both of you with his sheer size as he stepped into the studio. The male star had fucked you like you’d broken his heart, hands on your neck and hips bruising yours as he pounded into you, and you’d be a little alarmed at how little you had needed to act in his domineering presence. He’d been muscular and tall and assertive, almost injuring you with his enthusiasm, and the shoot had ended with you a sweaty mess, struggling to walk, eyes watery.

You had ached from the moment Tom helped you up from the bed, a protective body between you and your costar as you watched the man collect his clothes and his paycheck. The footage had been great, you’d watched Tom edit it, but it had been your first taste of Tom’s protectiveness. The actor had never returned, and Tom had bought a hot water bottle for the office, pressing it into your lap as he brought tea for the pair of you, loathing how you winced as you moved.

He’d taken you out for dinner that night to celebrate a good edit, but you knew the real reason. That neither of you wanted the other to be alone. It had been a lovely evening, a restaurant then a bar, without a break in laughing conversation the entire night. It hadn’t been a date, but if it had been a date, it would’ve been the nicest date you’d ever been on. In those moments, you wondered if Tom was really cut out for the industry. If you were.

As much as Tom hated the film, it was hot. It had propelled your studio into the spotlight, and it paid a significant chunk of your rent.

“Thank you,” you smiled to him, wracking your mind for anything else that needed discussing before you headed home.

Maybe you’d get takeaway. That would be nice.

Tom cleared his throat.

“What are we shooting tomorrow, by the way?”

You looked up at his words, frowning a little at the realisation you hadn’t been given a script yet. It was unlike him, to be so unprepared. Usually everything was organised weeks in advance. With a glance at the shadows under his eyes, you decided not to tease him about it.

“We’re shooting tomorrow?”

“This week… we’ve only got one video. I was just thinking something simple, I haven’t called a costar yet, but we don’t have to if you don’t want to –”

It was your paycheck on the line as much as Tom’s, and you wondered how the hell you’d forgotten.

“Do we have a camera crew?” you frowned.

“No, not yet. I can call though. Or I could just do it myself, if we’re not doing anything too complicated?”

You thought for a moment, leaning against the open doorframe as Tom started to pack up his own desk, nimble fingers tapping across his keyboard.

“Solo?” you suggested, stifling a laugh as Tom blinked and tilted his head to face you.

“I missed that, love?”

“Solo. Like ‘hot female solo’ or something?”

He smiled slightly, closing his laptop lid.

“That’ll do well, I’m sure. Do we need anything costume-wise? Props?”

Toys. He meant toys. You smiled at his refusal to call a spade a damn spade.

“I’m sure we can find everything here. It’ll be nice to do a simple shoot for a change,” you enthused, holding the door for Tom as he moved to turn off the lights, lingering nearby as he locked up the office.

“Yeah. Single-shot, no camera-man either.”

“Cheap,” you sighed, as though it was the sexiest thing in the world.

You did the books, and avoiding having any more costs this month sounded great.

“Yeah,” Tom smiled, falling into step beside you as the two of you left the warehouse studio.

He looked ready to say something else, but changed his mind. For a second the two you stood by the exit, words trapped beneath your closed lips as the early evening air enveloped you.

“Do you need a lift home?” Tom finally offered.

“No. No, I’m good. Thank you.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, yeah. Usual time. Twelve?”

“Perfect.”

He reached an arm out, ready for you to walk into his embrace, and you froze. The moment was over as soon as it started, his arm retracted, and you could only stare. His hand found the curls at the back of his head, scratching there, a blush dusting his cheeks in the harsh fluorescent lights of the car park. You could kick yourself as you watched the bob of his Adam’s apple, the clench of his jaw. He felt awkward. You contemplated hugging him, but the moment had passed. Instead you rocked on your heels for a second, before turning to leave.

“Bye, Tom!”

“‘Night! Look after yourself, don’t forget dinner. I’ll see you – ”

He cut himself off as you walked too far away, and you could have kicked yourself for the sadness in his final syllable. You sighed as your feet fell against the pavement, your whole walk home haunted by the awkward shuffle of Tom’s hands as he went to hug you goodbye.

*

You were surprised by how difficult it was to brush off that awkward memory. As you ordered and ate dinner, you were reminded of Tom with every bite, that he’d snuck aside part of the company’s petty cash budget to give you dinner. That both of you had gone home, separately, to separate empty houses and empty beds.

Had he wanted to go for drinks? Wanted company? You had come to accept a long time ago that the man was your closest friend. He would be the person you called in an emergency, a shoulder to cry on. You liked to think he’d lean on you the same way.

Despite that, you spent limited time together outside of a professional context. You never met up on weekends, or casually called. Of course you didn’t. He made a career out of seeing you naked, watching you fake orgasms for other men. As you readied yourself for the day, you reminded yourself that of course, he would be nice to his only full-time, very lucrative actress. To his business partner.

As you’d queued up the company’s social media posts the night before, you could only think of Tom behind the camera, orchestrating each photo and clip you uploaded.

You couldn’t help the grin which split your face as you walked into the studio, bag flung over your shoulder, overpacked with everything you thought you could possibly need. Tom greeted you, emerging from his office with a smile.

Before you could overthink it, you walked into his arms, giving him very little choice in the matter as you greeted him with a hug. In his surprise you felt his body stiffen, his arms slowly wrapping around you, and you were momentarily gobsmacked by the muscular form he seemed to hide behind those suits.

He was a little more dressed down today, smart black jeans and a button-up white shirt, unruly hair sticking up like it did when he forgot to brush it. He looked better than yesterday, like he’d had a good night’s sleep.

“Good morning,” he chuckled, bemusement clear in his voice.

You pulled back from the hug, a little embarrassed at the affection until you saw the smile stretching across his face, reaching his eyes. Suddenly the previous night, worrying you had inadvertently rejected him, seemed to be erased.

“Morning! What have you got for me?”

The studio space was cleaned, but empty. The camera stood in the corner as Tom lead you further into the room, his office door open to the side of it, and you frowned at the emptiness of the space.

There were tape marks on the floor where sets were usually assembled, conspicuous without the usual hive of activity buzzing around some piece of furniture you would be thrown onto or fucked against. There was nothing.

“I didn’t know what you wanted to do,” Tom was saying, his gentle voice booming in the empty space, “we don’t have a script or anything so… I’ll leave it to you.”

You bit your lip.

It was more freedom than you were used to, less direction, less to build the fantasy where you could forget you were ultimately in a warehouse with just your business partner. It was… nothing. Tom said your name quietly, and you nodded, stepping back to assess the space.

“I’m just thinking,” you reassured him.

Had the studio always been this quiet? You tried to remember a shoot day where it had been this silent, this calm, without the stress of lighting people or cameramen or scripts being thrown around. You could hear every step Tom took as he walked towards the camera, the wheel-mounted tripod creaking as he moved it across the floor, checking batteries and SD cards while you stood in place, your bag still hanging from one shoulder.

Noticing your frozen stance Tom frowned across at you, nothing but gentle concern in his blue eyes and the fine lines around them.

“I was thinking something kind of minimal, maybe cosy?” he offered, “Maybe an armchair? Something like that?”

You thought about it for a moment, crossing to the corner of the room to finally set down your bag.

He was finally getting into ‘director mode’, growing more energetic by the second.

“I’m thinking we just frame it on you, no distraction. Single take, if we can.”

You nodded silently as he crossed to the storage cupboard he’s overeagerly labelled a ‘props department’. It was stacked high with fabric and furniture and lingerie, tubs of various exotic sex toys near the door. Tom stepped straight past them.

There was a mattress in the props room, materials to build a bed, and you pondered on the idea for a moment.

“We could keep it really simple, maybe?” you suggested, “Find a warm background. Or just use white. Try and get one twenty minute shot, or something.”

You reached for lube without thought, collecting the near-empty bottle of body oil beside it too, as you perused the options in front of you.

“Remind me to buy more of that,” Tom mused, sparing a glance to the bottles in your arms before standing beside you to peruse the options.

You nodded silently, your free hand rifling through bagged silicone toys, slightly in a daze as you picked out a few options. There was a slight blush dusted across Tom’s high cheekbones as he turned to see your arms full of dildos. You smiled as it took him a second to find words, and wondered how the hell he’d chosen to start a porn studio in the first place.

“Colour co-ordinated,” he commented, and you smiled, picking out yet another pink toy from the pile.

“Naturally,” you smiled, “I think that’s everything? Could we drag a mattress and pillows out?”

He nodded silently, already moving to manoeuvre the double mattress leaning against a wall in the props room. You rolled your eyes before helping, knowing he was being a gentleman, or whatever he called it. You called it putting his back out.

He rejected your help, so you grabbed as many pillows as you could, following him back into the main studio, privately smiling at the dramatic grunts he made trying to move the mattress. He tossed it to the ground with a grunt, shoving it into the corner of the room, before pausing again.

You dropped everything down on to it, toys, lube, pillows and all.

And then both of you waited.

It was so strangely intimate, just the two of you in the room, the strange nature of your relationship weighing heavy after last night’s miscommunication. Suddenly there was nothing you wanted to do less than take your clothes off.

“White sheets?”

“Hm?” you hadn’t processed what Tom said, too wrapped up in your own world, frowning down at the bare mattress.

“I was thinking white sheets.”

“Oh, uh, yeah.”

He was off, assigned another task, and you almost envied his distraction as you slowly sorted the pillows how you wanted, gathered the toys absentmindedly. Before Tom came back from the props closet you made yourself scarce, catching sight of his slim outline through the doorway. Facing away from you as he rummaged.

In the single bathroom of the studio you cleaned anything that would be going inside of you, avoiding your reflection, trying to shake off the odd nervousness coursing through your veins.

Why? It had been years since you felt this way before a shoot. Before you’d met Tom, even. Sure, shoots could be exciting, exhilarating, intimidating, but this self-consciousness, this self-doubt… it had come from nowhere.

You pressed your forehead to the mirror, closing your eyes, breathing deeply. The tap running sounded like a waterfall, the silicone under your fingers felt alien, the air almost claustrophobic as you wondered what the hell was wrong with you.

Tom was done making the bed when you got back, frowning at his phone until he heard you re-enter the studio space, quick to look up and see if you were happy with his set. You felt hyper-aware of him, of every movement he made, a clean towel and toys cradled in one arm as you took in the space. It was a simple premise, just a clean fitted sheet pillows in a corner, a clear space for you in the middle. You knew it would look good on screen. You knew this was an easy job.

You felt sick to your stomach.

“Do you want to face the camera? Or kind of, not acknowledge it?” Tom asked, speaking again as you forgot to reply, too caught up in your own mind. “Maybe if you ignore it that’s more… voyeuristic?”

“Sounds good,” you responded, kneeling to prepare your space. This was autopilot, your day job. You could do this.

“Right.”

He sounded a little put out by your response, but moved the camera anyway, switching to a knee-height tripod. You stood, stepped back to give him space, and frowning at the sudden headrush. You blinked, catching yourself staring at the flex of his arms as he moved the heavy equipment. You didn’t realise how long you had been staring into space until Tom called your name a second time, crossing into your personal space.

“Are you okay?”

Tom’s voice was so soft you wanted to cry, fingers hovering beside your bicep, his gentle eyes demanding for you to meet them, daring for you to lie while his face is so close to yours.

Somehow, the guilt of his worry made you feel worse.

“No, I’m…I’m being stupid. Sorry, just tired.”

“Did you not sleep well?”

“No, I, uh, I slept fine. I’m not sure. Just not really feeling it.”

His face fell, but you knew he wasn’t disappointed in you. He thought he’d done something wrong. Immediately you were talking, doing anything you could to soften his guilt.

“It’s my job, though. I can do it. This is great Tom, I think it’ll be a good shoot.”

“Sweetheart –”

You sighed, eyes falling to the mattress, before forcing a smile.

“Let’s get this over with!”

He looked like he wanted to argue with you, but you forced yourself to move, pulled your feet from the floor with far more effort than it ought to take. There was some comfort in rummaging through your own bag, that piece of home, something private from the studio. You found the vibrator you’d brought, a pink bullet you used almost exclusively at home, fully charged that morning. Behind you, Tom snorted in amusement.

“Nothing here is ever charged,” you shrugged off his stare, knowing damn well you didn’t have to explain yourself.

You wanted to explain anyway though. Just in case, Tom thought anything he did wasn’t enough. He seemed perfectly fine with the criticism, though you knew he was making a mental note. He always did, then you had something to say.

Trying not to make a big deal out of it, you stripped to your underwear, folding your clothes neatly and being careful not to show any self-consciousness in your posture. You’d never been ashamed or embarrassed before now, and you weren’t about to start. Even if it was just you, and a very well, fully dressed Tom. Vibrator clutched in your fingers, you finally sat on the damn mattress.

He was the other side of the camera now, somehow both distant and a few feet away. You found yourself staring at your body in the monitor, just watching. Tom’s voice broke you out of yet another daze, and you wanted to pinch yourself. Why couldn’t you do it today?

“We don’t have to do this today, if you don’t want to.”

“No, it’s okay I just… I forget it’s just us sometimes, you know? There’s such a production and so many people and at the end of the day…”

Tom smiled, a relief on his face that told you he had been feeling it too. That this was weird.

“I know what you mean. If you’re uncomfortable…”

“Just give me a second to warm up, we need to make something, after all.”

You stretched, not really sure why, moving a little around the nook Tom had created, shuffling pillows and practicing where you wanted to lie back, watching a monitor as Tom played with a soft lighting, twisting and turning to find the most flattering angles you could.

As he shuffled things around, Tom nodded to the spread of toys you’d set out. You’d added your vibrator to the pink line up, perfectly organised on the white towel.

“Do you want those in shot?”

You shrugged.

“Might be hot?”

He nodded silently. You moved the toys in to the frame, trying to blink away the cloud which had settled in your mind. The world felt foggy, your arms like they were moving through treacle, and you knew Tom had noticed.

As he prepared two directional microphones, you tried not to feel claustrophobic. The audio from the microphone he was pointing towards your pussy would be almost grotesque, and you fought not to shuffle further from it as you imagined Tom listening later, headphones in, as he balanced the levels between your moans and the wet sounds of you fucking yourself.

Fuck.

Why was this so different to a regular shoot?

You’d done solo shoots before. With Tom. And half-a-dozen other crew, you reminded yourself.

You caught sight of his curls above the monitor, face serious as he set everything up.

“Speak?”

“Testing, testing,” you spouted off nonsense until he offered you a thumbs up, happy with the audio.

Then there was nothing else to do.

He stood, looming over the equipment. And you looming over you.

“What’s the plan?” he asked, smiling at your frown. “You’re in charge here, I’m just the camera guy.”

You rolled your eyes, knowing he was trying to put you at ease.

“You’re the director,” you reminded him, knowing how he preened himself under the title.

You were impressed that his eyes had only roamed down your body once as he took in the shoot, glancing at the indulgent layout of toys, double checking the monitor, one headphone in. He had that stance he always adopted when he was directing, and you knew it was his favourite moment in any of this. The moment everything was pinned on him.

It happened so quickly you almost missed the moment he knelt down, blinking in surprise as his face remerged at your level beside the camera.

“Then my direction is: enjoy yourself. Forget I’m here. Let’s show them something real.”

He must have seen your shock, because it made him smile.

“Real?” you questioned, and he nodded firmly.

“I’m serious.”

For a beat, both of you were silent, his eyes meeting yours over the body of the camera.

“If you can,” he offered, “I understand it’s not always…”

You interrupted him with a hand, smiling your understanding of what he was saying, and dismissing it in one motion. The silence dragged on, and you decided to push this forwards. If you were done by lunch, Tom would probably insist on taking you somewhere nice.

“I don’t know if I should use – ” you ghosted a finger across the biggest toy, worrying a bottom lip between your teeth, “Simplicity might be key.”

“Do what you want, darling. What feels good.”

You nodded mutely, and for just a second you saw doubt flicker across his face. This was new territory, and even you weren’t sure if this was a step too far.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah! Yeah. If I’m… actually… it might take a while. Let me know if I’m taking too long.”

“Take as long as you need, darling. I’ve got nowhere to be.”

Tilting your head at him a little, you realised abruptly just how intimate this was. Moreover, that you wanted it anyway. That you were about to make him watch you cum. Make him hear you, smell you. He couldn’t touch, but he could watch.

And that was enough for you to perform.

Tom gave you a countdown, red lights peppered your field of view, and he was recording. He had taken a seat on the floor behind the camera set up, one headphone in to monitor audio, waiting.

You stayed sat up, back arched a little as your hands began to caress you own body, keeping on eye on the monitor while your face was out of the shot. You rubbed along your thighs, across your stomach, teasing at the lace of your bra and the elastic of your underwear each time you passed them, trailing your fingertips. It didn’t really feel like anything, doing this to yourself, but you knew to tease the camera. Tom would cut out anything too slow.

Your gaze remained firmly on the screen as you began to make your touches firmer, more deliberate, dragging lines into your skin and flirting with the camera. You admired the soft skin of your breasts as you started to shift your bra, enjoying the stiffening of your nipples in the monitor until –

The screen went black, and you immediately glanced at Tom, frowning as you lost the visual of yourself. He met your questioning gaze sternly, eyebrows furrowed, and you remembered his direction.

“Enjoy yourself.”

With nothing left to look at you closed your eyes, feeling the blood rushing to the surface of your skin, the sensitivity of your breasts as your fingers idly danced across them. You shoved your bra down unthinkingly, wanting to feel more, rubbing at the heaviness of your breasts and wincing as you enjoyed the pleasure and pain of pinching at your nipples, teasing them to attention. You glanced your nails across them, feeling it in your core. You didn’t want to wait anymore. Fuck the cameras.

It was hard to let to, to stop the delicious feeling of your fingers on your own breasts, but you forced yourself to free one hand, shoving off the bra, desperate to feel yourself without it. You knew you were grimacing, it wouldn’t be sexy, but you didn’t care. That was Tom’s problem.

You needed to touch yourself.

One hand reached below the waistband of your underwear, seeking out your clit, guided by a familiar ache. It was all you could focus on, your other hand forgotten, cupping your breast, the sensation vague and lost as your fingers found your clit. The sensation overwhelmed you as you shifted the hood, your body beginning to produce wetness. The room was a little cold, the air relieving against the heat of your bare skin, making your nipples peak as you leant back into the nest of pillows behind you.

You felt your stomach tense, a bolt of electricity tensing the muscles up and down your body as you brushed across your clit a little too hard. Your middle finger probed your pussy experimentally, slipping inside of you, quickly joined by a second as you played with the wetness there.

One, two, three pumps of your fingers inside you was enough for you to gasp, your eyes still closed against the bright lights as focused on nothing but feeling. No more fucking around.

You reached for your vibrator, hand knocking against the thick silicone toy lined up beside it, writhing as you pressed it against the fabric covering your clit. You cycled through the settings as fast as you could, still desperate for more stimulation.

More. It was on the highest setting. You wanted more.

Without moving the vibrator you shoved your underwear off, huffing as you kicked them away, not caring where they landed. The tip of the toy nudged against your clit exquisitely, and you froze.

There.

There.

You thought about Tom watching you. The hot blood coursing through your body, the line up of toys just waiting to be shoved inside of you. The sensitivity of you clit as you held it against that perfect point. The air against your dripping, aching pussy. The muscles starting to clench, the rhythm of your body. Building, building, you didn’t fight the feeling.

This was what you wanted.

That warm familiarity of the vibrator on your clit, the runaway train of your thoughts, it was enough to drive you over the edge. You hadn’t realised the keening, groaning noises you were making until you heard them, pleasure leaving your lips as an afterthought.

You felt empty.

Blindly you reached out, sticky fingers finding the shaft of a toy you wanted, a smaller one you could take right now. A dollop of lube in the palm of your hand was all it would take, a few pumps of the toy enough to coat it, the excess lubricant smeared on the sheets. You didn’t care. Not your problem.

Without conscious thought, you were still rubbing yourself, two fingers absently making circles against your clit as you fidgeted to be able to take the dildo. You didn’t bother preparing yourself anymore. You were wet enough, and you wanted the stretch.

Needed it.

Needed to feel full.

You shoved the toy into yourself, gritted teeth and your spare hand grasping at your breast, giving the nipple a sharp pinch to interrupt the overwhelming feeling of that silicone pushing inside of you. Your walls were stretched open, a gasp reaching your ears as you felt a nudge against your cervix.

It wasn’t enough. You felt wild, desperate, as you sloppily pulled the toy from yourself and shoved it back in, clenching down and still needing more.

Your fingers found a larger toy, arousal and lubricant smearing across your body as you discarded the dildo which you had just been fucking yourself with, leaving it somewhere on the mattress, forgotten in favour of the bigger option. It was thick. Maybe, in your right mind, you wouldn’t have considered it. But instead you coated it in lube, squirting the clear liquid on to the tip and rubbing it down the toy, focusing on nothing but the need pulsing through your pelvis.

On the emptiness inside you, begging, pleading to be filled. It hurt, how much you wanted to be stretched out, to feel something pounding into you. You felt animalistic, desperate for anything. The last of your conscious thought was occupied by the need in your clit, the demand for friction, and you just didn’t have enough hands. It was impossible to think. When you finally sank down on the fake cock, leaning back, legs apart, gaze focused on nothing but your own swollen pussy, it was a relief. You gasped, then sighed, pushing another inch of the toy inside you. You felt stretched already, split in half, but you kept going. With each thrust, you took the silicone further inside of you until you felt the dull ache of the toy going too far.

Finally, that emptiness felt sated, and you stayed still, too stuffed to risk moving and too blissed out to care.

But you needed more.

Each bear down made the toy threaten to shift, and you didn’t have the brain power to thrust and pay attention to your aching clit. You moved gingerly, grabbing a pillow to straddle, holding the toy inside you as you hunted for your vibrator.

You couldn’t even lean too far to reach it, you were so full it ached. And it was delicious.

With the smooth plastic finally in your hand you leant back, ready to bring yourself to another orgasm. With a blink, you realised there was a tear tracking its way down your cheek, and you smiled to yourself.

And then you accidentally looked forwards. Your eyes met Tom’s. The camera. The lights. The switched off monitor.

You wanted to cry.

He was watching you directly, with those sharp blue eyes, one finger resting along his jawline, his usual calculating, wide stance replaced with one knee hugged to his chest as he sat on the concrete floor. He was watching you.

You. Stuffed full, straddling a pillow on the bed Tom had fucking made, covered in a mix of lube and your own arousal. That strange feeling from earlier came back full force.

God. He had seen you actually come. Without acting or cheesy lines or clever angles to hide the worst of your O-face. You could pretend to come, tell your male co-stars what a good time you’d had, follow direction, anything. But this was too real. And it was just you and Tom. In the corner of a huge studio, bright lights and cameras and –

Had he called cut? You wouldn’t have heard. Did he realise you’d lost control? That you had forgotten you were supposed to be acting and been so desperate and –

“You’re doing amazing.”

You smiled at him weakly, gasping as the toy inside you nudged your cervix as you fidgeted. You didn’t realise that you were awaiting direction until he spoke.

“Another one?”

His voice was a little throatier than usual, though you supposed he’d been quiet for a while. His eyes kept drifting from your face, and you wondered if he felt as uncomfortable as you did.

You nodded silently, closing your eyes, listening to the increasing pitch of the vibrator as you turned it up to its maximum setting.

The minutes stretched on as your orgasm built, little raises and falls of your hips accompanying that insistent buzz of your favourite vibrator, the toy inside you starting to ache as it stretched you apart. It was impossible to forget that Tom was watching you now. That his piercing gaze was on you. As a matter of professionalism, you tried to avoid looking up. You ignored the camera, fucked your body in the way you knew it would respond to, only half-faking it as you came a second time.

You moaned and groaned and gave the camera an indulgent few seconds of overstimulation, the vibrator pushed against your clit to make you writhe and shake. You pulled yourself off the dildo in a mess of arousal, played with yourself, showing off how stretched out you were.

Fingers swirling in the arousal inside of you, you sighed in relief when Tom called, “cut.”

Dropping the toy, you pulled your legs together, ignoring him for a second as you took deep breaths. Taking stock of your body, the residual pleasure and pain and stickiness. A lot of stickiness.

Tom took pity on you, shifting a softbox so you had a clear path out of the corner you were hemmed into.

“Go and have a shower,” he told you, the most softly-spoken command you’d ever heard.

Nonetheless, you followed orders. On weak legs, you indulged in as long as shower as you dared, cleaning up and then just… waiting. Trying to avoid the real world. When you finally opened the door, wrapped in a robe, you found your clothes folded outside. Tom was nowhere to be seen, but you thanked the universe for him anyway.

When you re-emerged you were fully dressed and feeling a lot more like yourself again. And, actually, quite proud of yourself. Tom’s busyness told you everything had been recorded properly, equipment moved and the mattress bare, leant against the wall.

“All good?” you asked, more to announce your presence than anything. He stopped moving, offering you a gentle smile.

“Perfect! I think it’ll be great. Do you want to go get lunch somewhere? To celebrate?”

Predictable as anything. The thought made your heart swell with fondness for him, his head tilt and excitement, his strange place here.

“I think I’ll just go home,” you tried to smile apologetically, but you could still feel the ache inside you, the dull oversensitivity of your clit against your underwear.

The embarrassment and excitement fighting in the fit of your stomach.

Tom nodded, clear understanding on his face. He held the door for you on the way out.

“Are you coming in tomorrow?” he asked, quietly, like you might run off if he asked.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll see you then.”

*

Your bedroom fell silent as the vibrator stopped, the battery finally flat. You whined in disappointment, desperate for another orgasm. Your fingers replaced it instantly, rubbing, desperately pulling more wetness from the arousal weeping from you, but you were too oversensitive.

Panting, vision blurry, your thighs aching, you blinked away tears. You glanced at the nightstand. Tom hadn’t text you.

*

When you woke up the next morning your phone was dead. You’d forgotten to charge it last night, and leaving it in your room to charge offered a strangely peaceful morning. You had a few hours before you would be expected at the studio, and no work to do before then.

You indulged in spending time getting ready for the day, making a decent breakfast, doing a few chores you’d been putting off.

Processing what had happened yesterday.

In the clear light of day, you wondered if you ought to be embarrassed for the way you’d completely lost yourself at the shoot. The more you thought about it, the more you thought about it, the more you rationalised at you’d just followed Tom’s direction. Done what he’d asked. It had been intense, for sure, but you’d done what he’d asked. If anything you regretted the moment he’d had to speak, losing your nerve. You hoped he didn’t want pick-up shots today, you weren’t sure your body could take any more.

You thought about the night before, clearing up the scattered clothes and charging the vibrator you’d left strewn beside your bed, more ashamed of the images which had been conjured by your overactive imagination in the late-night privacy of your bedroom. You hated that everything you imagined was involved blue eyes. Distinctive curls. Pulling buttons from smart shirts and kissing along sharp cheekbones. Poor Tom. He didn’t need you overstepping that mark. And yet when you had closed your eyes, imagined you were under those lights again, all you could imagine was Tom. His creative gaze. Listening to the smoothness his voice leant to everything he said as he instructed you even more intimately than usual.

As you switched your phone back on, you forced the thoughts from your mind. They couldn’t follow you to the studio. The two of you had built something good. Something successful. The studio was doing well, you were both saving money away for the future, building your brands. You couldn’t screw that up now by imagining him like that. He trusted you. You trusted each other. Relied on one another.

You wondered if he ever fucked other actresses.

[tkapuckit]

wasted on you - matthew tkachuk

a/n: hiii so this is my first fic...my old blog had a few blurbs but thats about it. anyway, this fic was kind of brought on by an argument i had with a really close friend and it’s just a lot of rambling. i was in a big slump about it and find that writing helps me cope a little. this is a little bit of an enemies to lovers type story too. my writing style is a little different, its a lot of just monologue so that way you can imagine in your mind the location and actions, things like that. please please do not hesitate to send me feedback i really want to know what you think!! thanks for all the support on this new blog i really love my followers and all the support i get here on this site:)

morgan wallen- wasted on you

warnings: swearing, arguing

word count: 1.5k

You can tell by the way he was swaying back and forth as you looked at him through the peephole of your apartment. He was drunk.

“You realize what time it is? Why are you here? What do you want?” you say opening the door, contemplating even opening the door for him at all.

“Hello to you too baby.” He says leaning against your door frame.

“Don’t call me that. I’m not your baby.”

“yea but I know you like it, I see the way your breathing changes when I call you baby.”

“oh please give it a break.” You roll your eyes.

He walks into your apartment and pushes you out of the way so he can shut the door behind him.

“You didn’t answer my question,” you push “why are you here its 2:30 in the morning. Forget where you lived?” you ask crossing your arms over your chest. Matthew leans on the table in your front hall, needing the support to stand up straight you assume.

“You always have to be so mean to me?” he laughed, licking his bottom lip.

“It’s easiest.”

“I love you.” He blurts out.

“What?” your eyes widen.

“I love you.” He slurs for a second time. There’s a moment of silence, only thing being heard is his fast breathing and your heart pounding in your chest. You say a silent prayer, hoping that he doesn’t hear it too. You look down at your hands, fingers fidgeting with your thumbnail.

“Go home.” You shake your head.

“I am home.” He motions around your apartment with both arms.

“You’re not. You don’t live here. You’re drunk.” You say still shaking your head trying to guide him back to the front door.

“I know.”

“Then go home.” You say rolling your eyes and sighing in defeat.

“I already told you y/n, you’re not listening to me. I am home.”

“Matthew-“

“You are home to me, baby.” He says looking down at his feet. You freeze. Your hand is still on his upper arm. You don’t know what to say. Could he really mean what he’s saying? Is he pulling some stupid prank, trying to pull a reaction out of you so that he can tell the boys and embarrass you later? Is he saying this because he’s drunk?

You take a deep breath, and he looks up at you. You see something flash in his eyes. Something you’ve never seen there before…hope. What happened to the big, tough, hockey player that you could not stand? This man standing in front of you, pouring his heart out into your hands, drunk, isn’t the Matthew you thought you knew. The one who you could barely stand being around, only seems to talk to you if it’s an insult that he makes sure your friends hear.

“go home Matthew. Get some sleep. Sober up.”

He closes his eyes and takes in a shaky breath. As he turns to leave you feel tears stinging your eyes. You don’t know why he’s making you feel like this. Once he leaves and is halfway down the hallway, you open your door and call after him. He stops in his track immediately turning to face you. When you run up to him you stop yourself before you do anything. There are a few moments of silence before you kiss his cheek and whisper, “I know you’re drunk but I hope that you don’t forget what you said tonight, that you love me.” And with that you turn and head back into your apartment before you let the tears start to fall.

*

Screaming and arguing, the norm when Matthew was around.

“And after we had started to get along too… I was really starting to think that maybe you weren’t so terrible like I thought you were! And the fact that you told my friends, my friends Matthew, that you think I’m some stuck-up bitch, how fucking dare you!” you scream at him.

“I never intended for you to hear that-“

“Oh, so you didn’t want me to hear it but you never said you didn’t mean it….do you mean what you said Matthew? Is that really what you think about me?” you ask eerily calm.

“Oh my fucking god!! See, this is what I mean! Fuck, like if it doesn’t go your way you’ll freak out until someone finally agrees with you! And the only reason they agree with you is because they’re so done putting up with your shit!” he screams.

“You’re such an ass! Get the fuck out of my face I’m so sick of you! I can’t believe I ever thought that we could get along.” You shout, walking closer and closer to him, scaring him out of your apartment.

“Everything you said to me the other day. A waste it seems like. All this time we’ve spent together, all the money and the time just driving around trying to not hate each other as much as we do simply because our friends couldn’t take it anymore, an udder and complete waste, wasn’t it? Do you remember what you said to me the other night? Or were you too drunk?”

“you take that back right now you hear me?” he lowers his voice, pointing his finger at you.

“Oh I don’t owe you any sorries honey. None at all”

At that moment, Matthew aggressively grabs you. You let out a frightened gasp, not knowing what he’s going to do. He pushes you against your closed front door and kisses you hard. You audibly gasp into the kiss.

The kiss doesn’t last long because you push him away. “Oh fuck off. Don’t think that by doing that I’ll turn to mush in your arms I-“

Matthew reaches up and puts his hand on the side of your neck to pull you in for another heated kiss. This time you give up and kiss him back. You do melt into his arms. Maybe it wasn’t a hate for each other that you had, but your way of taking it out on yourself. You two were mirror images of each other and that’s why you could never seem to get along.

“I haven’t been a waste and you know that. We’re such a pain to one another, I get it. I’m such a pain in the ass, baby please, I hear it every day from randos walking past me down the street. And you’re not better if I’m being fucking honest.” You scoff. He pulls in a deep breath.

“Please, just hear me out.” He says looking down at you, so small below him. You nod, allowing him to continue.

“But I’m so attracted to you. And I do want to be with you, you have no fucking clue. We work together. In some way, we work so well. And you know that too. Because if we didn’t work, you wouldn’t have bothered sticking around to argue with me. You would’ve left, even though this is technically your apartment.” You let out a small laugh. You know he’s right. You hate when he’s right.

“You need me. Admit it.” He’s so close you can feel his hot breath on your cheek, not daring to look up at him.

“I didn’t mean what I said when I called you a bitch. I have my moments you know that.”

“You can’t just kiss me, apologize and think that’s going to work.” You reach for the door to try and leave. You didn’t know what else you could do. He grabs your wrist.

“I did mean what I said when I came by the other day. I don’t just throw that kind of stuff around.” He pleads.

“Then say it.” You blurt before you could stop yourself.

Matthew wasn’t expecting that. He thought you were about to walk out on him, leave him alone in your own apartment only to return later and him not be there. Now it was his turn to be confused.

“What?” he asks furrowing his brows watching your every movement, still holding on to your wrist.

You take a step closer to him, letting the door fall shut behind you now. You step closer to him so that your chest is almost touching his. You look up at his big frame standing above you and into his confused eyes.

“Say it again. Say what you said to me the other night.”

You see the confusion leave his eyes, knowing exactly what you meant now.

“I love you.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding in. He reached out and ran his hand over your cheek.

“Say it again.” You breathe out, closing your eyes at the feeling of his hand so softly on your face.

“I love you. I love you.” He leans forward and kisses you. And kisses you. And kisses you. “I love you.” He says between kissing you.

“I love you too Matthew.” You smile into his lips.

You never wanted to leave his grasp ever. H was right, if you knew that it wasn’t right, you wouldn’t have kept trying.

[roman-writing]

bring home a haunting (10/12)

Fandom: The Haunting of Bly Manor

Pairing: Dani Clayton/Jamie Taylor

Rating: M

Wordcount: 18,021

Summary: Dani almost has her life together, when a familiar face arrives back in town after ten years. A childhood friends AU written with @youngbloodbuzz

Author’s notes: you’ll notice that we’ve stopped updating weekly. This is due to the fact that we’ve run out of backlogged material and are now writing in real time. Thank you for your patience with the final few updates.

read it below or read it on AO3 here

X: 1978-1983

—

The summer air was a warm suggestion of a breeze. The curtains trembled slightly in its passing, just a feeble stir that could not quell even the muted birdsong of robins. A bedroom awash in late afternoon sunlight that softened the wooden furniture and the textured wallpaper until everything was steeped to the same pastel shade of the bedsheets.

Dani sat in the chair before her cramped writing desk. It was too small to do any real work, but it was the only thing she could fit into this room – her own space – without her mother complaining. Most days it was used for little more than picture frames, curios, and stacks of clean laundry waiting to be tucked away into drawers, neat and soldierly. Today she had cleared a space and placed on it a blank sheet of paper, a pen, and an envelope with no address.

The heat was such that the back of Dani’s thighs stuck to the wooden chair when she shifted in her seat. She folded her heel atop the chair so she could rest her chin against her knee and stare at the sheet of paper. She chewed at the edge of her thumbnail until the skin there was raised and red and ragged, until she tasted the tang of copper, until she had to tuck her thumb away behind a closed fist and press her knuckles to her mouth.

The summer days were long and mercifully empty. No assignments. School wouldn’t start again for another month. No mother. Karen was out at some work function and had elected to leave Dani behind for once. No obligations. Nowhere to be. Nothing but the slow whittling away of minutes, of hours, of walking down the warm familiar streets and feeling the cold notion wash over her that she had let another day slip away.

Taking her courage into her hands, Dani picked up the pen. She held it over the page, as if in the vain hope her thoughts could flow from the tip of the pen without her input. She sat up straight, squared her shoulders, took a deep breath, began to write.

‘Dear Jamie –’

—

The sharp edges of the walkie talkie dug into her palm as she gripped it with white knuckles. Vestiges of a dream still hovered over her, just as the pale suggestion of diffused moonlight shone through her curtains. Her thumb hesitated over the press-to-talk button, still curled into the same tangle of limbs and sheets she had woken up in, her breath now back to normal from the shallow gasping that had felt like drowning. Usually, there was a comfort in knowing that Eddie was a creature of routine. In bed by eleven, but asleep by twelve after sneaking in another hour of reading. But looking at her bedside clock now, red numbers blinking the witching hour in the dark, deftly ignoring the photo frame just beside it, Dani wavered, knowing he’d be asleep by now. 

Hearing the distant sounds of the television still going through the floor, the hum of the box fan — her mother asleep or awake, she couldn’t really care — Dani exhaled a slow trembling breath, and pressed down on the button.

“Eddie?” Dani murmured softly. She waited for a long moment, pressing her forehead against the plastic, but when he didn’t respond, she swallowed hard and repeated, “Eddie? Are you there?”

She grimaced at the poor word choice, but kept silent, waiting. In the long stretch of silence, she let her eyes slip closed, her throat feeling thick. She sighed and whispered again, “Eddie?” feeling as though she was calling through some distant veil. 

There was still no response. Just as resignation was settling heavy in her chest, exhaustion pressing on her eyelids, static buzzed through the speakers. “Danielle?” came a heavy, sleep-ridden voice.

“I’m sorry,” Dani whispered, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to - go back to sleep. It’s fine.”

“Are you okay?” Eddie murmured, along with the sound of shuffling fabric. Dani remained silent, worrying her lower lip, guilt whorling in her stomach. When she didn’t respond, Eddie spoke again, sounding slightly more awake, but no less gruff.  “What’s going on?”

“I’m sorry,” she repeated, “I - um. I just - “

“Can’t sleep?”

“Something like that.”

He was silent for a moment, and carefully asked, “Another nightmare?”

“Yes,” she said in a small voice. 

“Do you want to talk about it this time?”

Against her will, before she could even stop herself, Dani’s eyes darted to the photo frame. To Jamie’s broad smile, to her younger self clinging on to Jamie’s back as Jamie held her up in a piggyback. Her breath catching in her throat, Dani blinked and turned on her back to stare fixedly at the streaks of moonlight stretching along her ceiling like slim, ghostly fingers. 

“No,” Dani murmured, pressing a palm to her eyes to banish the burning there, “I just - I wanted to hear your voice.”

Eddie hummed, as though half asleep already. “Won’t your mom hear?”

“She’s downstairs.”

“Okay,” Eddie said, the static dropping quiet briefly, but quickly returned along with the new sound of ruffling paper, “Want me to read aloud again?”

Biting back the embarrassment burning her cheeks, Dani murmured, “Please?”

Chuckling softly, Eddie said, “Are you up for some Lord of the Rings, or something else?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Lord of the Rings it is,” Eddie murmured, and then quietly began to recite from where they had left off last time. 

Dani slipped her eyes shut again as she listened, resting the walkie talkie against her chest. For however much she tried, for how many times Eddie had asked for her thoughts on one plot point or another, Dani for the life of her could never remember a single passage the morning after. It was never about the story, nor was it simply just listening to Eddie’s sleep-roughened voice for all the comfort it gave her. If she could shut her eyes, and leave the walkie talkie on the pillow beside her head, she could almost imagine it. Eddie lying beside her, with her head on his shoulder, and for a second she could pretend he smelled of sandalwood instead of sharp soap, the fabric under cheek flannel instead of a woolen sweater, and — 

It wasn’t the same. It’d never be the same. Not with guilt burning like acid in her stomach, not with her chest feeling so heavy and tight. Drawing in a low breath, Dani slowly peeled herself away from her too warm comforter and off her bed to pad quietly towards her open window, keeping the walkie talkie close to her chest. She slipped through her thin curtains that danced in a slight breeze and leaned her elbows on the windowsill, resting her chin on her arm as she looked out into the night of her backyard.

Beneath the low tones of Eddie’s voice, there was the sound of crickets and the whisper of a warm breeze. The neighborhood was dark but for the glow of distant streetlamps and the gleam of the moon and starlight. And just there in the far distance, a plane blinked red and white lights as it passed far overhead in the dark sky like a manmade shooting star. Maybe if it were a few months ago, maybe then she would have pressed her eyes shut and made a silly, small wish. Top marks on her next test. A new dress for her birthday. Her favorite meal for dinner. But her wishes seemed too big these days. Too large to fit in the palm of her hands. Words that felt more like prayer on her tongue. 

Sighing softly, Dani’s gaze drifted slowly towards the tree with it’s thick trunk and long limbs that stretched towards her window, leaves ruffling softly. Eddie was still murmuring diligently, reciting some passage that happened to be some poem or song. 

“He sought her ever, wandering far where leaves of years were thickly strewn. By light of moon and ray of star, in frosty heavens shivering. Her ma — “

“Eddie?” Dani interrupted softly.

Eddie fumbled over the words. “Yeah?”

“Do you still know how to climb trees?”

He was quiet for a long moment. “Sure. Yeah. I mean - I haven’t tried since Tommy dared me years ago, so I guess?”

“Do you think,” Dani started slowly, “that you could climb the one in my backyard?”

“Probably.”

“Would you?”

“What - like - right now?” 

“No, I - I - ” Dani stumbled, and swallowed thickly. 

“Danielle,” Eddie sighed, and there was the sound of a book being shut, “It’s late. I’m tired. I don’t really feel like risking breaking my neck right now, or your mom catching me. I don’t know which is worse, honestly.” 

His voice was starting to trail off in a lethargic slur before letting out a long yawn, and Dani bit back again the guilt that gnawed viciously through her chest. 

“Sorry, I - “ Dani said, standing upright, shoulders rigid, “I didn’t mean to keep you. Go back to sleep.”

“Are you sure?” Eddie asked in a sleepy murmur, “You were upset.”

“I’m fine,” Dani lied, “I’m fine now. I promise.”

“Okay,” Eddie breathed, “Night, Danielle.”

“Good night.”

There came then a long silence. Suffocatingly empty, as though all the air had been drawn from her room. She exhaled slowly, a trembling breath that rattled through her teeth. Leaving the walkie talkie on her nightstand, she crawled back into bed, curling up back into a ball with her knees to her chest and let her heavy eyes be drawn back to the photo. Clenching her teeth hard, she shut her eyes where the memories of that day pressed against her eyelids as though it were a film reel, lulling her back into a restless sleep.

—

‘Dear Jamie,

Last night I dreamt you climbed up through my window sill. You held out your hand and said to come with you, as though you were Peter Pan and I was Wendy. I remember wanting to laugh, I think. I almost expected you to be wearing that outfit and that hat, but you were just you. Smiling at me. That’s all I remember really. 

I don’t think you ever knew how much that meant to me. That time you climbed up my window for real. Just to be here for me when I needed you without ever having to tell you. I think that’s one of the things I’m going to miss the most, how I never had to ask or say anything. You somehow always just seemed to know. I don’t think anyone was ever as good at it as you were. Except for Carson, maybe. 

Are you okay? Is Mikey? Are you eating enough? Is it getting any easier? I can’t stop thinking about it, how tired you looked when I last saw you. I keep thinking of all our time together and how we wasted so much of it at the end. I should have visited more, maybe. I should have tried harder to talk to you, to help, no matter how upset you got with me. I’m sorry. 

I wonder where you are now, where they took you and Mikey. Are you still in Iowa? Sometimes I like to imagine you on a beach somewhere, or in the mountains like you always wanted to see. I like imagining myself there with you, too. Mostly, I like to imagine you back here again. 

It’s getting harder, not having you here. Mom kept saying the most terrible things after you were gone that I won’t repeat here; it’ll just raise your blood pressure. Eddie tries to help, and I love him, but he’s always been scared of mom and I don’t think he knows how to deal with something like this. With losing so much all at once. The only thing he’s ever really lost was the baseball state championship. Judy does her best though, and so does Carson, but they don’t really talk about it. They miss you a lot. They don’t need to say it, but I can see it. 

I don’t know if you’ll ever get these letters. Most of the time it feels like I’m just addressing the side of my bed where you used to sleep when you stayed over. But I hope you know this isn’t some attempt being nosey, or guilt tripping you into something. All this is, is everything I can’t say out loud, all the things I couldn’t. That I still care and always will. That I’m here. That I can wait, however long it needs to be. 

Do you remember when we were thirteen at the cottage, bored out of our minds because the power cut out so we decided to go run and dance in the rain? I hope the next time you stand in the rain, you think of that and think of me, just as I do you.

- Dani

— 

The t-shirt didn’t smell like her anymore. Too many months of too many laundry days, and all Dani was left with now was worn fabric that felt softer than ever and a print of Debbie Harry’s face giving her a sidelong glance with the words ‘Blondie’ in blue cursive type above her head. She ran her hand over the embossed design, and without thinking Dani shucked off her shirt to toss on her bed beside a pile of fresh laundry, and slipped the Blondie t-shirt over her head. 

There was little to no relief in wearing it anymore. Not when it smelled sharp and clean of florals and downy, long missing the faint smell of earth, the practical detergent Nan favored, and just plain Jamie. It was simply a t-shirt now. An article of clothing that she once borrowed and slept in. Something that had been buried, forgotten, in her rucksack until it had been too late to return. No comfort in pretending she could fall back asleep within it, no comfort in hugging a too soft pillow and imagining it was someone else. Standing now in the middle of her room and running her hand over the soft fabric, Dani knew of course that it was fruitless to pretend, to wish. Even so she couldn’t help the thought running through her head every time: it didn’t smell like her anymore. 

The upended laundry basket had been tossed to one side of her room. She moved slowly, folding and setting aside laundry to be put away later. There was a distant ache travelling up the back of her neck to her head, a constant presence now along with the ache in her jaw from restless nights of grinding her teeth. As she bent low to tuck away a pile of pants into a drawer, a twinge pulsed over neck and the crown of her head. She winced, reaching up to dig her fingers into the offending muscles and nerves, gradually moving upright. Her fingers grazed against the cool metal of her necklace and she froze. 

Dani stood quietly with the ache and took stock, slipping her eyes shut and clenching her fist, listening carefully to the sounds of the house. The television laughed through the thin floors. There was the distant heartbeat of the washing machine all the way in the basement on its second load. And her mother, quiet within her own company. She took careful steps towards her door, left open just a crack from when she had swung the door shut with her foot, arms laden with a laundry basket. Music travelled up through the stairwell and through the hall, a theme song jingle for some sitcom. Drawing in a steadying breath, Dani pushed herself out of her room to brave downstairs.

She dodged the floorboards that creaked and groaned predictably on deft, quiet feet. Tendrils of cigarette smoke drifted from the living room as she passed, and even now, the thickness of it still choked the back of Dani’s throat. The kitchen was a reprieve, the windows wide open to let in the late summer breeze, the floor cool beneath her bare feet, and she went about filling up the kettle and setting it on the backburner of the stove to boil. 

She absently stretched and prodded at her neck as she moved throughout the kitchen, pressing against pinched nerves while digging out a tin of cookies to set some aside on a saucer for a late morning snack. Swinging open the cupboard that held all their mugs and glasses, Dani robotically pulled down her favored blue mug with scattered stars and reached further back, her hand darting about looking for a single mug in particular that kept hidden an old yet treasured altoid tin. But as she blindly probed the back of the cupboard, fingers searching for dented and scratched metal within ceramic, her brows slowly knitted when she came up empty.

Pulling her hand back, her frown deepened as she stared deep into the dark cupboard, her eyes darting over every corner. Something heavy seemed to drop and pull violently in her stomach, a tight cinch forming in her chest. Biting at her lip, Dani rose on her toes, shoving around mugs and cups, picking up and setting them aside when it wasn’t what she was looking for. A mug with floral designs, and a tin packed with precious tea, priceless hidden treasures.

Her breath was coming in fast, shallow and panicked and trapped within her chest, embers flaring within her lungs. “Mom?” she called out, her voice trembling, “Mom, where’s -?“

The kettle whistled. Dani gasped, the sound shrill and startling. She whipped around, her arm knocking into something hard, and ceramic shattered on the floor. Dani jumped back, bumping hard into the counter behind her, the corner digging painfully in her lower back. Pressing a hand to her sternum, her heart crashing against her ribs, Dani stood there wide eyed with pained shallow breaths, the kettle’s whistle shrill and loud, and at her feet, the scattered remains of her starry mug. 

“Jesus Christ -!” her mother called out from the other room, “What have you done now?”

Dani was frozen, her heart a claxon in her chest, a sharp whistle ringing through her ears. Out of the corner of her eye, Karen appeared in the kitchen doorway and exhaled heavily. 

“Goddamn it,” Karen said, a faint slur to her voice, carefully stepping around the disarray to pull the whistling kettle off the burner and twisting the knob with a click. “What is wrong with you? Look at this mess.”

Her mother continued on, blustering about in the kitchen, stepping around shards of ceramic, but Dani could barely hear her. The kettle was off the stove, but the ringing in her ears remained, shrill as a train whistle. Her breath shallow, her hands clenched into trembling fists at her side, she stared down the shattered remains of her mug, pieces of stars amongst a blue backdrop scattered along the floor like the big bang, hastily swept away by a frayed broom in her mothers hands. All at once, it felt as though the strained tension along her neck and scalp snapped and went taut, the necklace around her neck heavy like a noose. 

Karen sighed. “Relax, Danielle,” she said, “It was just a mug.”

But it wasn’t just a mug. It was over a decade of memories. It was sharing tea with Jamie during sleepovers. It was her dad’s bright grin when she unwrapped it for her seventh birthday. Dani shook her head, a movement so small that Karen didn’t even notice, dumping the remains of her mug in the trash can. 

“Mom?” Dani croaked, eyes unmoving from the floor, her eyes burning, “My tin - where’s my tin?”

Karen gave her a look of bewilderment, then rolled her eyes. “That old thing?” Karen stepped past her to replace the broom in the hallway closet. “It was an eyesore. I threw it and that old mug away. It had a crack in it.”

Nodding absently, feeling a sharp blow between her ribs, Dani bit her lips hard against the tremble of her chin, her throat growing thick. Her knees wobbled and she slowly sank to the floor, pulling her knees close to her chest with shaking hands. Sucking in a sharp, trembling breath that burned throughout her chest, Dani pressed her eyes shut and buried her face in her knees, digging her fingers into the skin of her shin, willing the floor to swallow her whole. 

Footsteps returned to the kitchen and came to a sudden halt. There was a long, slow sigh. “Honestly, it was just a mug,” her mother said, exasperated, “We can get you another one.” 

Dani shook her head, biting her lip hard until it hurt, until she tasted a coppery tang on her tongue. When Dani gave no further response, the kitchen drew silent and she could only imagine the frightened state of her as her mother made no other noise of moving away to leave Dani trembling on the floor. 

“Danielle?” her mom murmured, soft footsteps drawing closer. 

Curling further on herself, her shoulders hunched, arms wrapped around her knees, Dani turned her head away, trembling from the effort not to cry in front of her mother. There was the ruffling of clothes and movement, her mother’s form sinking down to sit beside her, the smell of smoke and her mother’s sweet morning facial cream permeating the air. 

“Honey?”

Dani squeezed her eyes shut, an ache spreading across her chest, the word spoken so abnormally soft and unsure, and for one long moment, Dani could hardly process it, could hardly remember the last time her mother had spoken to her in such a way. A hand suddenly drifted over her hair, a startled, hesitant touch. Slowly, she went stiff, the room still and quiet as Dani waited for a pin to drop, for a rug to be pulled from under her, only hearing the distant breeze from the open windows, the restless tap of the sink. And then the hand stroked through the tresses of her hair, gentle in a way that made Dani’s heart ache. Swallowing thickly, she turned her head and met her mother’s eyes.

It was strange, to see the glazed glass of her mother’s blue eyes behind her glasses and not find any of the usual hardness, the aimless anger or frustration. Instead, there was faint bewilderment. Instead, there was apprehensive concern. Tears slipped down Dani’s cheeks, and haltingly, her mother’s hand reached up to swipe away one with her thumb. Dani’s eyes slipped closed at the touch, and all at once, she felt something concave within her. 

“I’m sorry,” Dani whispered brokenly, feeling herself lean closer to her mom’s warmth, “Please, just -”

Her mom gradually wrapped her arms around her as though she didn’t really know what to do, but it was enough, and the ache within Dani’s chest burst open. A choked sob ripped through her, a dam of tears spilled over her cheeks, clutching her mom’s clothes as though that was the only thing tethering her together. 

“All right,” her mom whispered. 

Her mom held her tighter until Dani was curled into her lap, body shaking with violent sobs, feeling her mother’s hand run repeatedly over her hair. And it was all Dani could do but to hold on as she fractured into pieces on the kitchen floor.

—

The local grocery store had a new supplier; it was the talk of the town for a week. Her mother and her mother’s book club mused over the topic at length over cups of coffee and fragrant steam. They were talking about it when Dani braved the first floor of her house for a glass of water, and they were still talking about it when she returned downstairs to put on her shoes and go out to meet Eddie for a group project. Even Judy across the street had something to say, complaining about the sudden dearth of this or the wealth of that.

“I don’t see the big deal,” said Eddie without looking up from his notebook. “It’s just groceries.”

Secretly Dani agreed, but she did not say anything. They were seated at the dining table with their textbooks open to various pages. Dani had brought her bag of various colored pens and highlighters, its contents spilling across the wooden surface.

“In that case,” Judy replied, “you can come with me to the supermarket. Come on.”

He blinked up at his mother in befuddlement. “But we’re working on a school thing,” he said, gesturing to Dani sitting beside him.

“And you can work on it when you get back.” When Judy waved at him, the keys in her grasp jangled. “Let’s go. Danielle, honey, you can stay here, if you want.”

“No, I’ll come, too,” said Dani, pushing her seat back and standing.

Eddie huffed, but dutifully rose to his feet and followed his mother into the garage. The three of them piled into the sedan parked there, and Judy drove.

“Don’t see why we need to come at all,” Eddie said from the backseat.

“Maybe I need a few hands to help push a cart and carry bags,” Judy drawled, signalling before she turned down a street. “Or maybe I just want your delightful company, Edmund Kyle O’Mara.”

At the sound of his full name being used, Eddie sank a few inches in his seat and went quiet. Clearing her throat, Dani braved the silence that followed with a tentative attempt at conversation, which managed to get them all the way to the store without further incident. By the time they stepped out of the car and into the shop, Eddie had stopped his teenage sulking and was helpfully trotting off to grab a cart. He wheeled it after his mother, trailing dutifully in her wake.

The air inside the grocery store was slightly more cool than outside. It felt like a dampness on the skin. Dani shivered against it and tugged down the sleeves of the jumper she had stolen from Eddie’s closet earlier that afternoon. She cast a surreptitious eye about the place, half expecting her mother to appear from between one of the aisles and catch Dani wearing something so unflattering in public. No matter how hard Dani tried, she couldn’t shake herself of the feeling, and after a few minutes of idly perusing through the produce aisle behind Eddie and Judy, she removed the sweater and rolled it up beneath her arm instead despite the chill.

“Mom, can we get some of these?” Eddie asked, already holding up a bag of corn chips.

“Sure, honey,” Judy murmured, distracted by the list of items scrawled onto a piece of paper in her hand.

Dani peered over Judy’s shoulder at the list. “I can go get the washing powder.”

“Oh, would you? Thanks, sweetheart.”

Dropping the bundled up sweater into the cart, Dani wandered off in search of the right aisle. She turned down what she thought was the proper one, and blinked in surprise to find that nothing was in its right place anymore. For a brief moment, she thought she must have turned down the wrong aisle, and she craned her neck back to read the sign that hung from the ceiling. In the seventeen years she had lived in North Liberty, the shelves had never been rearranged. With a furrow of her brow, Dani retreated and went down the next aisle and the next again. Finally, she found what she was looking for, but no sooner had she reached the home cleaning supplies section than she froze. 

Before her a wall of brightly colored cardboard boxes and plastic containers loomed. Rows upon rows. Arms wrapped around her midriff to ward off the prickle of cold, Dani’s gaze traced the lines of unfamiliar brand names in a wandering path, trying to find something, anything, that looked even remotely recognizable. But whatever brands the new supplier had stocked were so utterly unfamiliar, that Dani felt herself go stock-still. 

It didn’t matter. She knew it didn’t matter. Any of these would do the trick. It was the uncertainty, the unknowing. Wanting something so mundane — just one thing, just this one thing — to be a mindless decision. And for a fleeting moment, she found herself wondering if this was what all the fuss was about, if this was what it meant. Homesickness. A longing for the return of normalcy. Just for this. Just for a moment.

“Did you find it?” 

Whirling around, eyes wide, Dani found Eddie trundling the shopping cart down the aisle towards her. “What?” she asked.

He stopped, glanced at the wall of washing powders, and reached out to grab a box at random, hauling it into the cart along with the rest of the items. 

“Why that one?” Dani asked, pointing.

Pausing to consider the question, Eddie shrugged. “Who cares? It’s just washing powder.” Then he turned the cart and smiled. “Come on. Mom’s this way.” 

—

‘Dear Jamie, 

I finally had to get rid of that scarf you gave me for Christmas. One of the ends unravelled. I borrowed Judy’s sewing machine and patched it back up, but it only delayed the inevitable. 

On the plus side, I got to pick out a new one at a store in Davenport. The car ride with mom wasn’t great, but I think you’d like the scarf I picked in the end. I actually turned around, thinking mom was you standing behind me to show it to you. Don’t think I’ll make that mistake again any time soon. 

Do you still have the scarf I gave you? Is it cold where you are? Hopefully not. It’s starting to get cold again here. I wish winter would go faster. The only good part about snow is that you liked it. 

Still, it’s not all bad. I finally said yes to a date with Eddie.

Now, I know what you’re thinking, but be nice. It was actually kind of fun. We went to the diner and then for a walk. He gave me his gloves because I was cold and I’d left mine at home. Judy, of course, was thrilled. And mom was — well. You know how she is.  

I miss you. Stay warm.

-Dani.’

—

Her mother had been snooping around in Dani’s bedroom again. Dani could tell. Dani could always tell. There was a delicate balance to every aspect of Dani’s things — the way she hung her clothes, the way she made her bed, the way she left her closet door open just so, the way she positioned a tiny slip of paper into the shut door, so that upon re-entry she could glance around and see exactly what had or had not changed. 

“Just a bit of cleaning,” was Karen’s usual excuse. 

Not that Dani ever confronted her about it. Not really. Simple queries like “Were you looking for something?” were not confrontation. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” was the usual reply. 

Or, “It’s my house, Danielle. I can go where I want.” 

Or even, “No. Do I need to be looking for something?” 

Though the latter was usually reserved for the days when her mother was feeling particularly distrustful. As if Dani had something to hide. As if Dani were holding a door desperately shut, while her mother rattled the handle on the other side. 

Shutting the door behind her, Dani leaned her back against it and surveyed the room. Karen had been looking under her bed. The sheet had rumpled from where she precariously tucked it just that morning. Dani’s grip tightened around the plain wooden box in her hands as she took note of the minute changes, cataloguing where her mother had been snooping and inevitably come up empty-handed.

As if Dani would be so foolish as to hide something beneath her bed. Honestly.

For a moment she listened to the sounds outside her bedroom, but there was nothing concerning. Her mother was still downstairs watching television after a day’s work. How she even found the time to go snooping was a mystery in and of itself.

With a sigh, Dani stepped towards her closet door. Pushing it open, she dropped down to her knees and reached behind a conveniently located half chest of drawers. A press of her fingers in just the right place, and the false panel popped open. She set it aside, then reached in to pull out the crawlspace’s contents one at a time.

An old band t-shirt.

A book.

A Zippo lighter.

A necklace.

A stack of photographs bound by a rubber band.

A cassette tape.

Dani sat, cross-legged, on the floor of her closet, surrounded by a fanning array of items as though at the center of a summoning circle. The box she held in her lap. It was plain and wooden with a bronze latch. The plainer the better. Less likely to arouse suspicion, should it be exhumed.

She hesitated to touch the t-shirt, her fingertips grazing the edge of the fabric as though afraid it would disintegrate at the slightest provocation. Her hand moved to the photographs. She peeled back the rubber band and flipped through the glossy pages. At some point in time, she had labelled the backs of each one. 

Here was Jamie in 1976 at an Oaks game with Eddie, eating a hotdog and looking bored while Eddie cheered in the background. Here was Jamie laughing and reaching out towards the camera so that she was blurred with motion. Here was Jamie just a little over a year ago passed out on the couch, while Mikey was fast asleep on her stomach. Here was Jamie. Here was Jamie. Here was –

Nausea coiled faintly in Dani’s stomach. Abruptly, she wrenched open the box’s lid and began to shove all the items inside. It took a bit of furtive rearranging for everything to fit, and then her trembling thumb was pressing the latch shut with a final and resounding click. Her breath was coming fast and sharp. Dani had to close her eyes and steady herself, the feeling of the box beneath her hands, squeezing it shut as though afraid its contents might batter against the lid, yowling to be set free. 

Movements quick and furtive, Dani shoved the box behind the false panel in her closet. And sometimes at night, she swore she could hear it clawing against the wall. 

—

‘Dear Jamie, 

Have you ever felt like you were walking towards something you should be running away from? Everything feels like it’s moving so fast. Homework keeps piling up. Mom won’t stop breathing down my neck about my grades and college. Eddie asked me on another date. I feel like I’ve had a headache everyday just this week alone, and nothing I’m doing to stop it has helped. 

I know it’s impossible, I know I need to stop thinking about it, but I wish you were here. You were always good at slowing things down and helping me relax. Whether we were sneaking out at night to the movies, or just sitting quietly together in either of our rooms. 

I don’t remember the last time I was ever that relaxed. All I can do is smile and pretend that everything is okay. And honestly, I’ll tell you a little secret: sometimes I believe it myself. Sometimes I find myself laughing at something and wondering where it came from. Like all the doors to the rooms within me were slammed shut, and the only one cracked open was this mask I don’t recognize. Has that ever happened to you? 

I’m sorry, I should really stop dumping all this on you. 

In happier news, I have a small job lined up this summer! I’ll be babysitting the Newman's five and eight year olds. They even have a small dog with curly brown hair just like yours. His name is Jax, and he’s very cute. It’s not a lot of money, but it’s something to keep my hands busy after school’s over. Didn’t Nan say something about that once? Something about moral fiber and idle hands? Anyways, it’s something, and certainly better than sitting around doing nothing. 

I hope you’re well. I hope you’re happy. Miss you. 

- Dani

—

The school entrance was nothing short of spectacularly adorned of ribbons, balloons, and a banner that read: Homecoming. Groups of students dressed in fancy attire loitered at the front while slowly streaming inside. In the passenger’s seat of one of the O’Mara’s cars, Dani hid her clenched fists in the folds of her pale pink dress and worried at her lower lip as she watched through the windshield. A hand reached out to lightly grasp her fist. 

“Hey,” Eddie said, gently unclasping her clenched hand to hold over the console, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Dani rushed out, aiming a weak grin at Eddie, “Of course. Just - nervous I guess.”

He gave her a kind smile. “It’s okay. Me too, honestly,” he said, and chuckled lightly, pushing his glasses up his nose in a way he usually did when he was nervous. “Kind of feels like we’re sitting in a fishbowl already.” 

Dani breathed out an awkward chuckle in lieu of responding, nerves straining beneath her skin. 

“But hey,” Eddie continued, lightly shaking her hand and ducking his head to get a better look at her face in the lowlight of the car, “I’m really happy you decided to come with me.”

“Me too,” Dani murmured, not meeting his eyes. 

And it wasn’t untrue for the most part. It only just took her the long, winding road to get there. Days and weeks of Eddie asking with hopeful eyes and a gentle tone, only to end with a disappointed nod of his head whenever she had told him no or given an indecisive answer. It was too early to decide. She wasn’t in the mood. She was too busy. But finally, he had worn her down with the promise of all the ice cream she could want, and a night away from home.

In the car now, his eyes shone brightly from the distant light of the school entrance, his grin gentle and fond. “I know - I know it’s been hard lately. With everything,” he started hesitantly, his thumb running over her knuckles, “But let’s try to have fun. I really want to give you a night where you didn’t have to think about anything. Not school, or your mom, or - “ he paused, and smiled weakly, his eyes ducking briefly, the jaw of his muscle jumping “ - or anything else. Just us, having fun.”

Drawing in a low breath, Dani nodded, braving a faint smile. “And remember,” Eddie said, “We can bail any time if we’re not having fun. Get some ice cream, find a party to crash.”

Dani chuckled and Eddie grinned broadly, boyishly sweet and handsome in his blue suit. “Okay,” Dani murmured, and exhaled. “Okay. I’m ready.”

It was easy, letting Eddie jump out and round the car to open the door for her with his hand held out. Easy to slip her hand back into his and let him lead her into the school. Easy to let him murmur in her ear how pretty he thought she looked. She plastered on a soft smile in the hopes of coming across as shy at the compliment instead of how abnormally strange it felt hearing those words come from him after all this time. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t heard him compliment her before, but they were becoming more regular by the day along with those long, captivated smiles, and all Dani could do was tuck the uneasiness away and push it aside. 

Instead, she let herself take in the school as they entered, to greet her friends and schoolmates with waves and bright smiles and hugs. To let her eyes scan over the gymnasium when they finally entered, decorated in a bare fairy tale theme. String lights strewn along the walls and above their heads, fake flowers and plants stuck to the walls and placed as centerpieces on circular tables. It was pretty but simple, for all the school budget had to spare, but no one seemed to care. With pop music blaring from the rented stereo system, there was already a plethora of students on the dancefloor and lingering beside a long table of drinks and snacks. 

Eddie nudged Dani lightly and bent low for her to hear him say, “How much do you wanna bet that someone spiked the punch already?”

Dani laughed and shook her head. “I don’t need to bet,” she said, and nodded towards the table, “Look.”

Following her line of sight, they both looked to find none other than Sterling sneaking furtive glances around for any nearby teachers or chaperons before carefully pouring in a healthy amount of white liquor from a flask. 

Eddie laughed and gave her a grin. “You want some?”

Immediately, Dani’s stomach twisted uncomfortably. “Um - maybe later?”

Eddie shrugged. “Sure,” he said, and tugged gently at her hand, “Ready then?”

Taking another long scan around the room, Dani finally nodded and let Eddie pull her deeper into the crowded room. 

There was something to be said with mixing spiked punch, loud music that hammered against your chest, and a crowd of teenagers in one room. The razor facades in school hallways and lunch cliques fading away to awkward but zealous dancing, tears and arguments in gymnasium corners and bathrooms, cheap blue lights that shone above and reflected off of tinsel and sequins. And even as she felt eyes on them throughout the night, even as Eddie smiled broad and proud as her friends complimented how cute they looked together, the facade Dani had painted on remained and she managed to tuck it all away, determined to have fun for the first time in months. Lingering on the outskirts of the dancefloor with Eddie, laughing at his commentary and sharing the occasional dance with him or a cluster of her friends when she felt brave enough. 

She had even let herself share a dance with Roger. Eddie had let them go with a good natured roll of his eyes and broad grin. She hadn’t spoken to Roger much recently, not since long before the summer holidays when Nan’s anniversary had come around, but he was still as friendly as ever while they conversed and danced slowly at a respectable distance. But when his smile slowly faltered, a look of somber hesitance crossing his face, Dani felt her heart sink.

“Listen, um - “ Roger started, “I didn’t get the chance to tell you before. Didn’t know when was a good time really, but I just wanted to say sorry. Y’know, about Jamie - “

“It’s fine,” Dani interrupted quickly, just a little sharply. He blinked and slowly nodded, ducking his head, and Dani said again more softly, “It’s fine.”

Roger nodded again and offered her a faint smile, and that was that. They finished their dance and Roger let her quietly slip away with a thanks and apology. She aimed a weak smile at him and went in search of Eddie. When she found him, he was sipping deeply from a red cup by the table and brightened when he spotted her.

“Want one now?”

Fixing her eyes on the bowl of punch, Dani gritted her teeth through a thin smile and nodded. And just as she had expected, the taste was similar to a sweet, pungent acid that burned on the way down. Eddie laughed when she twisted her face, but gamely she took another long sip.

“Careful,” Eddie chuckled, “Don’t want to end up like Kyle, do you?” He jerked his head towards a form slumped over on a table. 

“Oh,” Dani said, wincing, “I hope he’s okay.” But when Kyle was roughly jostled awake by a friend and staggered to his feet to be dragged away somewhere, she breathed out a laugh and shook her head. 

“Seems fine to me,” Eddie said, and when a fun disco song transitioned to a slow ballad, a look of shy eagerness overtook him. He drew in a slow breath and nudged the back of her hand with his. “Hey - do you want to dance again?”

Dani hesitated. She had been expecting this question all night, but still was not prepared for the way her heart hammered abruptly against her ribs. Swallowing thickly at Eddie’s hopeful eyes, his glasses reflecting bright fairy lights as though they were stars, Dani slowly nodded with a faint smile. 

Eddie blinked in surprise. “Really?” he asked softly.

“Yeah,” Dani lied, feeling her stomach sour, but a broad smile bloomed on Eddie’s face, brightening his features, and she couldn’t help but feel her heart soften at the sight of it. 

Without a word, he took her hand and guided her onto the dance floor, wedging them through couples with their arms around each other, slow dancing. Dani kept her head low, focused on the path they took rather than the room encompassing them, the unnerving sense of eyes watching them returning, settling over her like cold water. 

All their dances so far had been set to upbeat music, spinning each other around and competing on who knew the most popular dance moves, instigated by Eddie in an effort to make her laugh. She had been grateful, but with every slow song that came and went, she could feel Eddie’s shoulders bunch beside her as he gave her careful sidelong glances when he thought she wasn’t looking. 

But Dani was always looking, waiting and anticipating every look or touch of the hand, never having the heart to turn him away, and worse, not knowing why. And this was no different. This was Eddie putting his hands around her waist, this was Eddie giving her a nervous grin as she placed her hands on his shoulders, this was the slow sway they easily fell into, the sound of the ballad pressing on Dani’s eardrums. 

There was a look of faint wonder on Eddie’s face as they danced, as though he had never expected them to end up here when the night began. There was an intensity to it that Dani wondered maybe if this was the part where she was supposed to feel the same way in return, that giddy, lovestruck feeling that all the other girls talked about regarding the boys they liked. As she let her eyes drift across his face, breathing in his fresh and sharp cologne, he was still the same Eddie. Still the same boy who spent most of his time with his nose stuck in a book or rehearsing for a Model UN debate, whose sweaters she stole and whose hugs felt warm and safe. There was a strange sense of both disappointment and relief within her, and in an effort to not think about why, she stepped closer to press against his chest to feel that same comforting warmth. 

As she wrapped her arms fuller around him, she felt more than heard him chuckle, a hand moving to smooth up and down her back. 

“Having fun?” he murmured. Dani nodded against the stiff fabric of his suit, humming affirmatively in response. “I’m glad,” he continued softly, “That was all I wanted.”

Without warning, her throat grew thick and she bit her tongue to quell the feeling, exhaling slowly when she managed to push it away. “Thank you,” Dani murmured, her eyes slipping closed, listening to the rapid thumps of his heart, “I think I really needed this.”

“Any time,” Eddie said, “God knows I needed it too. Have I told you yet how glad I am you agreed to come with me?”

Dani chuckled. “Once or twice,” she said, “But feel free to mention it again if you have to.”

But Eddie didn’t, remaining silent as they continued to sway. It only took her a moment to realize why, feeling his shoulders tense and his chest gradually expand as he drew in what seemed to be a fortifying deep breath. Her eyes flickered open, her breath caught in anticipation. 

“Danielle?” Eddie started, carefully soft.

“Yeah?” she whispered, a pool of trepidation whirling in her stomach.

“Can I kiss you?”

For all the nerves she felt beneath her skin, for the way her heart crashed against her chest, there was a distinct lack of surprise ringing through her. Dani had been expecting this, she had heard of all the ways the other girls expected and hoped their own nights to go with their dates, she just hadn’t been expecting it so soon. This was always supposed to happen, wasn’t it, Dani thought as she slowly pulled back to meet Eddie’s eyes, wide with hopeful anxiety. 

She could say no, she could gently let him down, tell him she wasn’t ready yet, that she may never be. And he’d understand, he’d nod and duck his head unable to hide his somber disappointment. She could keep telling him no until he finally gave up, until he was unable to look her in the eyes anymore, until he was asking for space and neglected to call her back or invite her over for dinner. Until he slipped away like sunlight between her trembling fingers, taking Judy and Carson and the rest of the family with him until all Dani was left with was a cold house that wanted to eat her whole, and her mother, both a ghost and puppeteer in equal measure. 

Dani’s heart was racing, she realized. Panicked thoughts rushing through her mind at lightspeed, a future that felt like a long dark tunnel with no end in sight. She exhaled slowly and met Eddie’s gaze, waiting with increasingly nervous eyes. Offering him a weak smile, she reached up to push his glasses up his nose and cup his cheek, feeling a faint stubble beneath her palm, and finally, she nodded. 

He blinked, a slow look of deep affection bloomed over him, his eyes drifting down to her mouth. “You sure?” he mumbled. 

When she nodded wordlessly again, not trusting to speak, Eddie smiled wide and slowly bent down to capture her lips with his. It was soft and chaste, just as it had been all that time ago at a house party, and Dani found it to be almost pleasant for all the stirring emotion she didn’t feel. He made a soft, happy sound and his hands pressed her incriminantly closer before he finally pulled away, dazed and enamored. 

“Wow,” he murmured under his breath.

This is the part, Dani told herself, where you kiss him again. 

Confetti was suddenly drifting around them, sparkling gold and silver, and a thrilled clamor passed over the room. They both peered around and found confetti cannons on stage erupting with more glittering paper, and Eddie laughed.

“Perfect timing,” he said, his cheeks pink, his eyes bright and happy. 

Dani chuckled in lieu of not knowing what to say, ducking her eyes and easing back into his chest, but then the song changed, transitioning into something softer. Familiar soft harmonies interspersed with sparse instruments. Recognition gradually fell upon her like a slow crashing wave, like the glittering confetti drifting over her. Dani sucked in a low breath and froze, her eyes going wide and her mouth slowly dropping open. The song reverberated around the room and pressed against her chest, squeezing tight like a band until it was hard to breath. 

“Danielle?” Eddie said, feeling the sudden tension in her shoulders, bewildered and concerned, “You okay?”

“Um - “ Dani croaked, a tremble in her voice, easing out of his arms and unable to look him in the eyes, “I just - can you give me a moment? I need to go to the bathroom.”

She slowly backed away, and out of the corner of her eyes she could see him frowning. He called out her name again, but Dani didn’t deign to respond. Her jaw taut and her fists clenched, Dani pushed her way through the crowd at a brisk pace with quick shallow breaths, the song ringing in her ears like a train whistle. She pushed and pushed until she was surging out of the gym and into the hallway, the door clanging open. It was quieter in the hallway, the music muffled now through the doors, but it wasn’t enough. 

There were other classmates loitering around in small groups in the hall, some glancing her way at the sudden noise of her appearance but didn’t linger long. Steeling herself, a desperate thrum beneath her skin that felt like she was being clawed inside out, Dani moved past them further down the hall, her feet heavy like lead, her head ducked with her eyes glued to the ground until she arrived finally to the girls bathroom at the end of the wing. She pushed open the door and let it creak closed behind her. 

A pressure swelled within her in the quiet of the bathroom, bursting from her chest in sharp, quickening breaths now that she was alone. Embers bloomed from her lungs with every sharp inhale, her head spinning so that she stumbled forward to grip the damp countertop with white knuckles, the edge digging into her palms as she squeezed her eyes shut. 

“Fuck,” she whispered in between gasping breaths, her voice cracking from the strain, feeling as though she were drowning on molten lava, burning a path through her chest. 

She pressed a palm to her sternum, sucking in lungfuls of air, fingers digging into the fabric of her dress, and focused to slow her breath, to swallow down the panic swelling within her throat. An inhale, and an exhale, trembling but slow, again and again until she could finally hear past the rush of blood in her ears and feel the walls expand again from where they were pressing on her. And just as resigned herself that the burn in her lungs would remain until she retrieved her inhaler from the car, a door behind her slowly creaked open. 

Dani sucked in a sharp breath, eyes snapping open as she jerked upright, frozen to the spot. Immediately, a heavy stone of dread and embarrassment sank in her stomach when through the mirror, Jackie emerged from a stall, dressed to the nines in a sparkling periwinkle dress with her hair perfectly coiffed and feathered. Their eyes briefly met, and Dani promptly ducked her head, hastily wiping at her burning cheeks, her shoulders hunching. 

The clack of heels sounded behind her in the uneasy quiet, moving closer until Jackie was a few sinks down from her, eerily silent as she twisted open the faucet to wash her hands. Dani swallowed thickly, her jaw clenched and her breath caught in anticipation, her heart a claxon in her chest. Waiting for the usual taunting jeer, for a cruel laugh that never came. Instead, there was a silence between them that Dani was unused to, leaving her feeling as though she was teetering over the edge of a great capricious cliff, waiting for a hand to push her off. 

Hesitantly, Dani’s eyes slowly drifted up towards their reflections. There was Dani, haggard and hollow-eyed with red stained cheeks. And there was Jackie, slowly meeting her gaze with an expression that was both faintly uncomfortable and tentative. Jackie promptly looked away. Rooted to the spot, Dani watched out of the corner of her eyes as Jackie turned off the faucet to dry her hands with paper towels, and without a word, without another glance back, swung open the bathroom door to make a swift exit. Blinking in the silence, utterly perplexed and exhausted, Dani’s eyes slipped shut and her shoulders slumped with a slow exhale. 

She stood there for a few minutes longer, leaning heavily against the counter. Washing her hands with cold water, letting it run long over her fingers and wrists. Splashing cool droplets over her cheeks and neck to cool the burn. Stood there until some semblance of control smoothed over her, until reality shifted back from it’s prism of panic. 

Exhaling slowly, she made to finally exit the bathroom, but when she swung open the door, she paused when she was greeted with Eddie leaning against the opposite wall with his hands deep in his pockets, his brow furrowed with worry. When he spotted her, his eyes lit up with concern and he stood upright. 

“Hey,” he murmured, taking a step towards her, his eyes scanning over her, “Are you okay? You look -“

“It’s -” Dani started, stumbling over the words as she neared him, “It’s fine.”

“Are you sure?” he said, “You got out of there so fast, and now you look exhausted. And then Jackie told me where you were, which was weird. Wait - did she say something to you? What happened?”

Dani was shaking his head before he even stopped speaking. “It’s - it was nothing. Just - “ the words lodged themselves in the back of her throat. “Can we - um,” Dani said in a whisper, staring resolutely at his tie and not his eyes, “Can we get some air?”

Eddie was already nodding. “Yeah, sure,” he said, “Whatever you want.”

He led her down the hall towards the front doors, and Dani followed wordlessly, easily falling into step with him, almost unseeing, her eyes glued to the floor. It was easy to let him guide her, almost a relief that she didn’t have to focus more beyond putting one foot in front of another, to breathe in the cool evening air when they finally stepped outside. They walked for a few minutes longer, and without even realizing it, Dani found herself being guided to sit down on the first row of bleachers of the school stadium. 

Exhaling a slow breath that rattled in her chest, the embers there a dying glow, she wrapped her arms around herself and hunched within her shoulders. A warm suit jacket was strewn over her shoulders, and she shot Eddie an appreciative smile when he sank to sit beside her. He grinned softly and took her hand once again. 

“How’s this?” he asked softly. 

“Better,” Dani murmured, “Thank you.” 

“No problem,” Eddie said, and visibly hesitated. “You want to tell me what happened now?”

Dani clenched her teeth, letting her eyes scan over the darkened field, tracing over the red track, and felt a dim ache in her chest. Her eyes glazing over, her thumb drifted towards her mouth and she bit down hard into the skin and nail until there was the faint taste of copper in her mouth.

“Hey - Danielle. Hey -!” Eddie grabbed her hand and pulled it gently from her mouth to hold in a tight grasp, looking stricken. 

“Sorry,” Dani croaked, and cleared her throat, “Sorry.”

Eddie shook his head, looking at a loss for words, eyes darting over the field for a moment before meeting her gaze. “No, I’m - I’m sorry,” he said, contrite, “I should have taken you to the car instead.”

Nodding faintly, Dani ducked her head. “Sorry I ruined tonight.”

Shaking his head, Eddie shifted closer and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “You didn’t,” he murmured, “Just means we can go get ice cream now.”

Breathing out a weak chuckle, Dani faintly said, “Yeah. Sounds nice, actually.”

Eddie pulled her closer, his hand rubbing a warm path over her shoulder and arm, audibly swallowed hard, and finally said, “I miss her, too.”

—

‘Dear Jamie,

I visited Nan today. I brought a bouquet of her favorite flowers and cleaned up her gravestone. I hope that’s all right, that I went to see her. I don’t visit as often as I used to, or talk to her as much anymore. Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s been rolling her eyes at how much I talk, but I think she secretly enjoys the company. I went to see my dad too. I don’t really remember the last time I visited him, just that mom got upset when she found out and didn’t talk to me for a few days. I haven’t been since until today. It was nice, I told him all about you. I think you two would have gotten along. 

I went to see the house again too. Sometimes I just find myself there without realizing it, driving or walking past, and I’ve done so enough that it doesn’t feel as shocking anymore to see how it’s decayed. The broken and boarded windows, and the overgrown grass. Nan would catch a fit if she saw what happened to it. It’s not pretty inside either. Everything is gone. The wallpaper and paint are peeling and there’s debris everywhere that I could almost hear Nan yelling at us to clean up. The backyard is just as bad as you can imagine. Your bike is still there, but the tire swing is gone. All that’s left is the rope hanging from the tree, just waiting for an accident to happen. 

When I was walking through the old bedrooms when I had the sudden thought: I could live here. Now, look, I know it sounds crazy but it wouldn’t be too hard. Just a bit of elbow grease and a little money for repairs and new furniture. I could live here all alone and no one would ever find me. I’d have my white curtains and blue shutters. A reading nook in the corner with an armchair like Nan’s. A garden of fresh fruits and vegetables in the back. Rooms that smelled of flowers and fresh laundry. My own little corner of the world like I once told you about. But I guess it was just a dream. 

I suppose I just wanted to see it for myself. It’s been a while now since you left, and for so long I hoped to see you again, but seeing the house like that, discarded and forgotten like a carcass in the woods, I think I understand now. There is no going back. Even when I wake up every night and I want to call you to tell you everything and that I can’t sleep, I remember. 

Sometimes I feel like I miss you more than I remember you, and I don’t know what to do with that, or where to put it all. So, I suppose I have to leave it here. At the cottage and in this letter. 

Speaking of letters, I got my college acceptance letters today. It’s not what you had hoped for me probably, not the freedom we had both once imagined, but I like to think you might be proud of me at least. It’s a step towards something, towards teaching like I’ve always wanted, and that has to count for something, right?

I hope you know I’m proud of you too, wherever you are and whatever you might be doing. 

- Dani

—

The party was far too reminiscent of one she had attended years ago. She had not attended many since, preferring to mingle outside of student housing and on the steps of the library. Not unless corralled by etiquette – de rigeur to a fault.

Dani hunched her shoulders and squeezed herself tighter into the corner as someone passed by without so much as a glance in her direction. “Sorry,” she mumbled and clutched her red plastic cup to her chest.

From this vantage point, Dani could see the entirety of the living room, the open back door leading to the lawn, the pillars framing the entrance to the kitchen. A strange house full of strange people. People draped across the couches, people perched upon the armrests of chairs, people grouped up in packs, people talking loudly over the music, people circulating drinks and no food, people stripping off their shirts and lowering themselves into the outdoor jacuzzi beneath a night-darkened sky.

Taking a sip of her drink – hard alcohol mixed with whatever canned pop was stashed in the fridge – Dani scanned the crowd for any sign of the girl who had invited her in the first place. The girl who sat beside her in class. The girl who invited Dani and who only ever referred to Eddie as ‘the boyfriend.’ The girl with dark hair and dark skin and dark eyes, who took every opportunity to lean in close and whisper jokes in Dani’s ear during lectures, who had grasped Dani’s hand warmly upon first meeting and introduced herself as Lila.

It took Dani a moment to find her. There were so many people bunched about. At one point she thought she saw Eddie outside, conversing with a group of students from the engineering department. His glasses gleamed as he laughed. Knowing he was near enough to reach in a moment was enough. Idly Dani glanced towards the far corner, nearest the unlit fireplace, and froze. 

Lila stood in the corner in full view of the rest of the house, very clearly kissing another girl from their year group. Nobody seemed to care or even notice. Nobody except Dani, who stared at the slant of their mouths together, at the grasp of Lila’s hand at the other girl’s waist, at the ease and obvious delight with which they kissed — sloppy yet smiling.

Dani heard more than felt the plastic cup in her hand crumple slightly, and the contents of her cup were abruptly squeezed out, overflowing onto her wrist and the front of her blouse. Swearing under her breath, Dani set the plastic cup down on a side table already cluttered with absent drinks and cans of cheap beer. She shook out her hand and looked down at her blouse. It wasn’t stained, but a splotch of the pale material was now nearly transparent, showing the outline of Dani’s bra beneath. 

With a sigh, she squeezed her way past a few people, apologising as she went, until she made it to an uncrowded hallway. There, she peered into an open door, discovered that the room was indeed the bathroom, and slipped inside, shutting the door behind her. 

She was standing before the sink and reaching for a wash towel when she saw him. A dark and faceless figure in the mirror, looming over her reflection’s shoulder like a shade. Eyes wide, Dani whirled around with a gasp, brandishing the hand towel as though it were a weapon. 

The towel knocked the apparition sideways. It was, she realised, made of cardboard. A life sized cut out figure of Michael Myers. A prank, perhaps. A vestigial decoration from a recent Halloween party, more likely. 

“Jesus Christ,” she muttered to herself. 

Heart still pounding in her chest, Dani shook her head and turned back around. She dabbed at her blouse to very little effect, before resigning herself to the fact that she could do nothing but wait for it to dry. 

Voices outside the door. Then the tramp of footsteps receding down the hallway. There was a knock, and Dani called out, “Just a minute!” 

Checking her reflection one last time in the mirror — and casting a glare at the cardboard cut out for good measure — Dani opened the bathroom door and stepped out into the hallway. The empty hallway. She shut the bathroom door behind her with a click, frowning down the hall towards the main room and the party.

“Having fun?”

Dani jerked around to find Lila leaning against the wall and smiling. “Oh! Hi! Yeah, I – uh –” Dani made a small gesture towards the hallway at large. “I like your house.”

“Thanks. I rent it with, like, six other people.”

“That’s a lot.”

Lila shrugged. “Still better than the dormitories. More privacy.”

“With six other people?”

“Maybe less privacy,” Lila amended with a grin. “More freedom, though.”

“Sounds nice,” Dani agreed. “Which room is yours?”

It was meant to be an innocent question, but the moment it slipped out Dani winced. Lila’s grin broadened and her eyes flicked down to the see-through mark on Dani’s shirt.

“I just meant –” Dani stammered.

“Yeah?”

“It’s – It’s a big house. Easy to get lost in."

Lila nodded. “It is.” Then she pointed down the hallway, further away from the living room. “Mine’s that one on the right. I would invite you in, but it’s a mess right now.”

“Oh, I don’t mind,” said Dani, then went bright red. Perhaps one of those boys in the kitchen had poured more rum into her cup than she’d originally thought.

Biting back a snort of laughter, Lila shook her head. “You really do make this too easy.”

Dani grimaced. “Sorry.”

“That’s all right. I thought you were straight? Didn’t you come here with the boyfriend?”

Dani’s mouth dropped open, but no sound came out. Finally she managed to swallow past the pressure at her throat, and said, “I did. I mean – I am. He’s – around. Somewhere. I think.”

Lila nodded sagely. “Mmm. Yes. Very convincing.”

“That’s –” Dani clamped her teeth shut and cast a furtive look down each end of the hallway, but nobody was coming towards them. Nobody seemed to be eavesdropping. “Did you need something?”

Lila’s eyebrows rose. She cocked her head, still smiling faintly. “Yeah,” she said, taking a step closer. “Actually, I do.”

“Oh?” Dani could feel herself tense, her hands clenching into fists at her side. The air was too warm, cloying, and Lila’s eyes were keen as darts.

Lila reached out and for a brief breathless moment Dani thought she was going to touch her – grasp her gently by the arm, cup her cheek, take her chin between clever fingers and guide Dani by the jaw – only for Lila to turn the doorknob just behind Dani.

“I need to pee,” said Lila. “And you’re standing right in front of the bathroom.”

An unexpected burst of laughter escaped Dani then. She leaned back against the shut door, lifting a hand to cover her face, laughing into her palm. Lila grinned at her as Dani slipped out of the way with a series of breathless apologies.

“Don’t worry about it,” Lila told her, giving Dani a wave even as she shut the bathroom door. “See you in class!”

“Yeah,” Dani waved back and ducked her head, relieved to be heading back down the hall in search of Eddie. 

It wasn’t that Lila wasn’t nice. Because she was. And it wasn’t that people at the party weren’t nice. Because they were. A few tried to engage her in conversation while she crossed the main room to get to the back door. She was just tired, Dani told herself. She wanted to go home. 

It had nothing to do with the thrill skittering beneath her ribs. Nothing at all to do with the fact that Dani had no idea what she would have done if Lila had made some sort of advance. Balked? Probably not. Accepted? Surely not. 

Surely not. 

That wasn’t her. Dani wasn’t that person. 

“Hey,” Eddie greeted her with a smile when she found him still engaged in conversation with a group out back. “How’s it going?”

Dani wrapped a hand around his arm. “Fine. Can we go? Sorry. I know it’s early.”

“That’s all right,” one of the other guys said — she didn’t know any of their names. He winked at Eddie and patted him on the shoulder. “We’ll catch up next week, yeah?”

Eddie’s answering chuckle sounded slightly nervous and he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Sure,” then he said to Dani, “Come on. I’ll walk you back to your dorm.”

—

Sex with Eddie wasn't his idea. Only that it was something Dani thought they ought to do. Because it was a step forward, and any step forward was better than looking back.

She wanted to want it. She wanted to think of him and not the way Lila smiled at her in class. The way the cute and curvy barista always brushed their fingers together when she handed over Dani's cup of coffee. The way the older librarian always wore her soft blouse with a button undone so that Dani's eyes could trace her collarbone. The way a female classmate squeezed by her in a tightly crowded hallway with a brief press of her hand to the small of Dani's back.

Most of all she didn't want to be left alone with her thoughts about the dream. About going to her dorm after the party, kissing Eddie good night, only to fall asleep and wake up clutching a spare pillow, knees clenched together. Still haunted by a dream where a faceless figure explored her body with a soft mouth, a roving tongue and sharp teeth. And how she had tried to relieve the slick heat between her legs with her own hands, only to give up after ten minutes of frustration, unable to conjure up a face, unable to feel any sense of connection to herself enough to finish alone. Physicality seemed to jolt her back to herself, away from the jumbled fantasy that existed in the dark and nowhere else, making her feel less real, less tangible. 

Sex with Eddie was easier than she had expected. And exactly as awkward as she had expected.

It took a grand total of fifteen minutes. Afterwards, Eddie rolled onto his side and tucked his head into the crook of Dani’s shoulder with a sigh, an arm still flung across her waist. They had a few more hours until her roommate returned to the dorm. She remained there, carding a hand through his dark hair and staring up at the ceiling, while Eddie sketched little patterns with his fingertips against her skin. 

Sex with Eddie was uninspired. It was lackluster. And it was — Dani thought wonderingly to herself, thinking of all the girls she’d heard discussing the deed with giggling delight — ultimately disappointing. 

She felt him press a kiss to her shoulder, and she blinked down at him. 

“That was nice,” he mumbled.

Dani hummed a wordless reply rather than say something in return.

—

'Dear Jamie, 

You’d be proud of me. I went to a party. All on my own, no less. Well, not alone. Eddie came, too. But I was the one who secured the invitation, and I think that counts for something.

I had the strangest dream afterwards, though. I don’t think alcohol agrees with me much. Must be a family trait.

I wish you’d been there. At the party, I mean. The whole time I was there, all I could think about was how well you’d get along with everyone. How much more fun it would be with you. I miss you. 

All my love,

- Dani

—

It was his face afterwards that had stuck with her. Contorting between bafflement and hurt, fidgeting on his knee after Dani had pulled the rug from right beneath him. 

“What do you mean: no?” Eddie had said slowly, as though he was still parsing out the words in his head. 

“We’re - Eddie, we’re still so young, and - can you stand up, please? The snow is melting into your pants,” Dani said, pulling at her fingers, fighting the urge to run in the opposite direction. 

“I just - “ Eddie started, glancing wordlessly around the quiet park where they stood before finally rising to his feet. Without meeting her eyes, he finally murmured, his breath a white mist, “I thought this was what you wanted, too.”

Words lodged themselves in Dani’s throat, confessions building like bile. Things she had never truly taken into consideration before, but couldn’t possibly say. Not on Christmas morning on an impromptu walk in the park at Eddie’s eager insistence, intent on blindsiding her with an unplanned proposal. He had never looked so serious before, lacking the teasing glint he had worn in his eyes the dozens of times he’d asked before in the past years. Utterly earnest with the way he dropped to his knee with the admission he had no ring, but knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. 

But then she had said it: ‘No.’ The word seeming to come out of nowhere, banging on her ribs to be let out until she was speaking it before she could stop herself. And then there it was, his face. Blinking up at her as though he was seeing her for the first time. 

“I’m sorry,” Dani said, her fingers twitching to grasp his hand, quietly urging him to look at her, “I’m just - I don’t think I’m ready yet. It’s too soon.”

A muscle jumping in his jaw, Eddie nodded and gradually met her gaze. “But one day?” he asked quietly, hope glinting in his eyes.

It sounded like a promise. One she’d have no say in the matter, or opportunity to change her mind. A contract of infinite fine lines. Dani exhaled, the morning air cold and sharp against her cheeks and nose, shifting on her feet in the snow. 

Already tired and the day had barely begun, Dani finally relented. “Yeah,” Dani breathed, smiling weakly, “One day. Just - not now, okay?”

The morning sun cast sharply against the snow, leaving long angled shadows from the trees and their figures, the light glinting off of Eddie’s glasses when ducked his head briefly and nodded. 

“Okay,” he murmured, offering her a brave smile that was more frail and still disappointed than anything. But then, the teasing glimmer was back, the corner of his mouth lifting in a knowing smirk. “It was the ring, wasn’t it? Because I didn’t have one and you want a nice big shiny ring?”

Dani blinked at him and then rolled her eyes hard, thwacking him lightly on the arm. He laughed and wrapped an arm around her shoulder for a loose hug. Dani let him, slipping her arms around his waist and squeezing her eyes shut as she pressed into his chest, the part of her relieved to hear him laugh again suffocating under the guilt clutching at her heart in a fist. 

“Come on,” Dani said, lightly clearing her throat and pulling away to lead him back towards the house, “Before everyone starts to wonder if we ran away.”

“Wouldn’t be a bad thing,” Eddie said, waggling his eyebrows, slipping his hand into hers. 

Dani huffed, and said, “Sure, until my mom calls the police for your head on a spike.”

Eddie blanched, as pale as snow. “Never mind.”

Snickering, Dani shook her head and led him back home. There had been an easiness to him on the way back, his cheeks pink from the cold, chuckling when his glasses immediately fogged when they stepped inside the house. But that had been then, and the hours slipped by with presents shared and lunch had, the easiness giving way to the return of quiet disappointment and dejection the longer they were subjected to the company of Tommy’s newest girlfriend and David’s fiancée. Eddie’s eyes dimming by the hour with forced smiles and hushed conversations in corners with Judy or Mike. 

She inadvertently came across one by accident. Wandering into the kitchen in search of something to snack on to channel the nerves bubbling beneath her skin after escaping small talk and awkward smiles with Tommy’s girlfriend. Eddie with his head ducked and Judy murmuring softly to him. She froze when they spotted her, her shoulders tensing as they both gave her similar warm smiles that betrayed nothing of the conversation they were having. 

“Sorry - um,” Dani said, eyes darting between them, “Did I interrupt something?”

“Of course not, honey,” Judy said, waving her off and returning to her task of putting together a platter of cookies, “Are you hungry again? Do you want me to heat up some leftovers for you?”

The question almost flew over Dani’s head, instead carefully watching Eddie quietly clear his throat before delving into the fridge for a drink. “No,” Dani said after a moment too long and plastered on a small smile at Judy, “I’m fine.”

Fine was one way of putting it, a dim sense of dread washing over her as Eddie merely offered her a kiss on the head and a crooked grin that didn’t reach his eyes when he slipped by, leaving the pair alone in the kitchen without a word. Her fists clenched, she watched his tall frame disappear around the corner.

There was a sigh behind her. “You kids grew up too fast if you ask me.”

Dani choked out a laugh. “Just a little bit,” she replied, biting her lip and folding her arms across her chest.

The kitchen remained silent for a moment, until Judy said, “Sweetheart, are you sure there isn’t anything I can do for you?”

There was a faint eagerness to Judy’s tone that Dani had no idea what to do with. Shaking her head faintly, she turned to be met with Judy’s kind but concerned expression. “I’m fine,” Dani repeated, “I promise.”

Judy seemed unconvinced, stepping closer to press her palm on Dani’s cheek, meeting her eyes with a level of intensity that Dani wasn’t used to. Not from Judy. “You would tell me,” Judy started slowly, “if there was something wrong, wouldn’t you, honey?”

Words banged again within her chest, beating against her ribs. I don’t know how to love him, it said, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m - 

“Of course,” Dani lied, guilt twisting tight around her neck as she gave Judy a reassuring smile.

With a sigh, Judy gently shook her head. “Then I want you to stop worrying,” she said firmly but gently, slipping into a smile that bordered on teasing, “You’ll both come around. I just know it. I don’t think I’ve ever seen two souls made for each other as much as you two. Well, besides Mike and I, of course.”

Judy laughed softly and Dani couldn’t help but mimic her, invisible strings stretching her mouth into a broad smile. And when Judy finally left her alone to her own devices in the kitchen with the platter of cookies in hand, Dani’s shoulders sagged and her smile slipped away in place of weariness. It took a moment for her to decide, already pulling down a wine glass from the cupboard before she made up her mind. Digging out a wine bottle from the fridge to fill her glass with a burgundy red that settled heavy on her tongue and smoothed the building panic within her until it was reduced back to a simmer. 

It kept her company for the evening, a sip taken for every sidelong glance from Eddie, every encouraging smile from Judy, every stern look her mother sent her way. But when night began to settle and her flushed cheeks began to buzz, Dani quietly slinked away from the festivities to grab her jacket and boots to slip outside the backdoor, exhaling in relief when she stepped out onto the porch. 

Leaning against the railing, her breath was a white cloud as she took in the scene. The air was brisk but still and quiet, the sky an indigo blue with faint stars twinkling above her, and for the first time since waking up this morning, a sense of peace swept over her in the quiet of the dark. But Dani didn’t have it for long. She had only been outside for just a few moments when the backdoor opened. Tensing, she turned around with excuses already on her tongue, but sighed when Carson shut the door behind him with a small grin and joined her at the railing. 

Without a word, Dani returned to staring listlessly into the dark sky and backyard, fidgeting with her fingers. 

“Thought I’d find you out here,” Carson murmured softly, as though unwilling to disturb the quiet, “Mom sent me to look for you.”

Dani snorted humorlessly. “Worried I was going to run off into the night?”

“Nah,” Carson said, and then paused, narrowing his eyes, “Is that something I should be worried about?”

Breathing out a thin laugh, Dani nudged him in the ribs. He jerked away, chuckling with a pleased grin before digging out a rumbled pack of cigarettes from his pocket. He lit one with practised ease, embers glowing bright in the dark, and wordlessly held it towards her. After a beat, Dani took it without looking over at him and took a long drag, welcoming the burn in her lungs. 

“These aren’t good for you, you know,” she murmured flatly, expelling the smoke through pursed lips. 

She felt Carson shrug. “I’ll burn that bridge when I get to it,” he said, lighting up a cigarette of his own. 

Dani rolled her eyes in mild exasperation but didn’t respond, electing to smoke quietly until Carson broke the silence. 

“Look, don’t worry about Eddie, okay?“

She sighed. “Carson.”

“I’m just saying,” he said, turning to face her, “I know he’s acting like a dick right now, but - well you know how he is. His favorite movie is The Graduate.” He twisted his face in distaste as though that explained everything. 

Dani gave him a long look. “Is this why your mom sent you to find me?”

He shook his head. “Just to keep you company,” he murmured. 

It was irritating how quick her eyes suddenly burned with unshed tears that she had to look away to hide them. She took a long drag to settle herself. “Thanks,” she said quietly, smoke billowing from her nose. 

Carson was silent, the air thick with an unspoken question until finally he spoke again. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because believe it or not,” he said, “You’re not that hard to read.”

Her breath caught in her chest, staring fixedly at the untouched stretch of snow in the yard, feeling inexplicably like an exposed nerve. Swallowing thickly, she slowly met his eyes, almost expecting to see every single lie, every single confession waiting to stumble between her clenched teeth reflected back at her as though he knew all along. Just waiting for her to slip up and make a mistake and bleed herself dry. She didn’t know which was worse, the justified anger she had been expecting, or the gentle concern she found in his brown eyes instead. 

When she took too long to respond, staring in a faint stupor, his frown deepened and he opened his mouth to speak, but Dani beat him to it. “I don’t really want to talk about it,” she stumbled out quickly, just a little sharply, and then softened when Carson blinked in surprise, the fight going out of her just as fast. “I just - I don’t like hurting him like that.”

Carson grinned softly. “I know,” he said, “But he’s gonna be fine. I promise. Before you know it, he’s going to be bugging you again about it. He’s relentless, remember?” 

Dani nodded, almost unseeing as she took another long drag, weariness becoming a comfortable fixture in her bones. When she didn’t respond again, Carson put out his cigarette on the snow covered railing and wrapped an arm around her shoulders with a sigh. “Maybe you should run away after all,” he said. 

A soft laugh escaped her, a small choked sound. She leaned against him when he chuckled and rubbed her shoulder, recalling a jar of loose change and crumbled bills left forgotten in some corner of her old bedroom with a fond, wistful smile. 

—

‘Dear Jamie,

I don’t know why I keep trying to write these. Why I keep thinking about them. There’s nowhere for them to go, no address to send to. I write one, put it in an envelope, and then a few days later I throw it away. There’s no point in keeping them. Just as there’s no point in putting them in the post box. 

I’ve stopped turning around and expecting you to be there when I have something to say. I guess that’s why I’ve been writing less of these lately. If you were going to come back, or call, or write to me, then you would’ve done so by now. 

I think that’s the hardest part. Knowing that everyone else is moving on, while I’m here. I’m still here. Sometimes I think I always will be.

I like to imagine you going to all those places we talked about. I like to imagine your life is better now. I like to imagine you keep a piece of me with you. 

- Dani

—

The car had seen better days, this Dani knew. No one had to tell her that. No one had to tell her that every door creaked with the screech of metal at every movement. That the gas meter was wrong more often than not, displaying it half full when in fact it was wheezing it's last breath. The passenger's side was slightly dented and scraped, the undercarriage tinted red with rust. But it was hers, and hers alone. 

She’d only had it for a week now, bought just a few days after returning home from college for the summer with the full intention of making the most of it. The steering wheel was solid in her hands, the stereo tinny and staticky, the leather worn and crackling. A contained pocket universe of her own. It had the faint smell of dust and cigarettes, and she had spent the following day cleaning the interior before hanging an air freshener on the rearview window, all too happy to restore it to her liking for the simple fact that no one could tell her otherwise. 

It felt like a taste of freedom, driving it for the first time. The sun was a warm companion as it slanted through the windows onto her skin, the wind from the open window whipping at her hair as she spent her evenings driving through neighbourhoods, watching streets and buildings pass by with aching familiarity and a sweet fondness. 

Nothing could break her spell of gratified happiness. Not even Karen who scoffed and muttered under her breath with scorn and distaste when she laid eyes on it, displeased that Dani spent all her hard earned money on a car that could pass for a junker. Even when Eddie tilted his head in bewilderment, failing to hide his grimace when she had proudly showed it off couldn't diminish the lightness in her chest. Ignoring his mutterings that he could have come along to the dealer to assist in favor of soaking in Judy’s proud appraisals for taking another leap forward into adulthood, and Mike’s patient smile and offer to look over the car for basic maintenance. 

But it wasn’t any of their reactions she had been truly looking forward to. Patiently waiting a full week until finally Carson arrived home from his freshman year at college with slumped shoulders and bags under his eyes to idle the car in the driveway and press on the car horn until he stumbled outside in his new leather jacket. 

When he spotted the car and just who was inside, his eyes brightened and he sped towards her. “Holy shit, you did it!” Dani laughed and stepped out just in time for him to wrap her in a tight hug. “God, I missed you.”

“We saw each other two weeks ago,” Dani said, smiling into his chest. 

“Yeah, but this is different,” Carson said, leaning heavily into her and groaned, “School’s finally over.” Dani stumbled under the weight of his taller frame and they both laughed, teetering off balance briefly until finally he pulled back. “Okay, I wanna look at it.”

Dani bit back a broad grin as he watched him round the car with the expression of a solemn appraiser. Pulling open doors to peer inside with hums of consideration and sweeping a finger over the scratched paint. He rubbed said finger with his thumb as though brushing off crumbs and finally aimed an impressed expression towards her. 

“Well?” Dani said, folding her arms in amusement. 

“It’s a load of junk,” Carson said, and Dani snorted, “But I love it.”

Dani rolled her eyes and Carson laughed, slinging an arm around her neck “I can’t believe you did it, I’m so proud of you,” he said, placing a kiss to her forehead. 

“Thanks,” she murmured with a small smile as she looked over the car. 

“But you do realize though that you’re driving me everywhere from now on, right?”

With a derisive snort, Dani shoved him off, grinning when he laughed again. “In that case, you’re buying gas.”

“Ouch,” he said, wincing and pressing a hand to his chest, “No free rides? Not even for your favorite O’Mara?”

“Nope,” Dani said, her mouth curling with an impish grin, “Though I do have the perfect place in mind for the first drive.”

He brightened with curiosity. “Oh, yeah?”

“Mhm,” Dani hummed, and without any fanfare, she pulled a folded envelope from the back pocket of her jeans and held it out towards him with a murmur, “Happy belated birthday.”

He blinked at her in surprise. “That was months ago.” 

She shrugged shyly. “Wanted to do something special since we missed doing something last time,” she said, “And then I saw this, and well - I couldn’t pass up on the opportunity.”

The look he gave her was warm, fondness blooming from his eyes. Without a word, he took the envelope and peeked inside. He gasped, his eyes going wide. “You didn’t.”

“I did.”

“These are - no fucking way. These are tickets to - ?“

“They are. The show’s in two days.”

“Holy shit. Holy shit, Dani!” He laughed brightly and pulled her into a back breaking hug, lifting her off her feet, murmuring thank yous on repeat in her hair. 

The next two days were spent in anticipation and secrecy, having told no one but Mike their plans for the day. When the day finally arrived, they piled into Dani’s car and rushed down the street with breathless giggles in an effort to not get caught by anyone from either household. Carson, happy and eager for the concert, using her dashboard as a makeshift drum with the drumsticks he brought along, and Dani, relieved to finally have an excuse to drive somewhere that wasn’t drifting aimlessly through streets. 

The road long and narrow ahead of them, Dani guided them out of town towards Des Moines, North Liberty slowly disappearing in the rearview mirror like a mirage. Driving away felt like leaving reality behind, if only for a while. It was the possibility of choice, itself an illusion. A pretty fantasy she could pantomime like an actor on stage. With nothing but flat fields of corn and grass on the horizon, the great blue sky yawning open above her, she teased at the notion of letting her car take her beyond Des Moines, beyond into the unknown. That she might never leave the road until her tires wore down to the rim or she reached the end of the world. 

“How did you even afford all this?” Carson asked over the rumbling of car wheels on tarmac and music hissing from the stereo. “The car and the tickets. It must have cost a fortune.”

“Not really,” Dani said, keeping her eyes on the road, “Saved up a lot from working at that bookstore near campus and years of allowances. And believe it or not - “ she aimed a sly grin at him “ -  the car came pretty cheap.”

Carson snorted and rolled his eyes, slouching back into his seat.

What she failed to mention was the handful of bills and change from a certain travel fund jar that had helped her along the way. The money having been tucked away for years in the dark corners of her room, lingering over her like a shadowed veil. It had added up to nothing more than fifty-six dollars, a small dent in what the car and tickets cost that it might as well have been water vapor for all it contributed. But it was long overdue. There was no leaving North Liberty, no traveling the world like she had once dreamed, but having a car of her own, a whole world of her own — it was as close she was ever going to get. 

The concert, in the end, was bright and loud and the most fun Dani has had in years. Rough guitars and heavy drums that felt like thunder in her chest, it wasn’t the kind of music Dani would ever actively search out, but she couldn’t deny how easy it was to get caught up into it. The stage lights casting along the surging and dancing crowd. Carson beside her, cheering and singing along to every word with the crowd until he was hoarse. And Dani with her shoulders the lightest it’s been in years, an unknown spectre amongst a crowd of hundreds, with no expectations and constraints tangled around her neck. 

On the drive home, loose-limbed and the humid night air thick and heavy as molasses, she kept the windows down to let in the breeze that cooled their skin and ruffled their hair. Carson slouched low in his seat, almost boneless as he fiddled with the radio with a happy grin and lethargic eyes. 

“So,” Dani started, “did you have fun?”

“Do you even need to ask,” he croaked, his voice rough. Dani snorted, sparing him a fond smile as he finally settled on a station and leaned back against the headrest, soaking in the breeze. “Although, you’re on thin ice though for refusing to buy me a drink. And on my birthday, too.” He aimed a disappointed look at her and shook his head with a tisk. 

She gave him a reproachful look. “You’re underage,” she said, “And your birthday is in February.”

Dani laughed as he grumbled beside her. But when he fell silent again, the hiss of the stereo and a distant rumble of thunder, the smell of rain in the air, he turned to her with an earnestly soft expression. 

“Did I say thank you, yet?”

“About no less than a hundred times, I think,” Dani said with a quiet huff of laughter. 

“I mean it this time,” he said, “Thank you for this. Really. I missed you guys.”

“We missed you too,” Dani murmured. 

Instead of saying anything more, there was a look of hesitancy on his face, his eyes drifting down for a moment. “You know who else I miss?” Carson’s mouth curled into a plaintive grin, and without waiting for an answer, he murmured, “Jamie.”

Dani blinked in surprise, her eyes fixed on the red eyes of tail lights ahead in the darkened road, lightning flashing in darkened clouds in the distance as her knuckles went white against the steering wheel. Hearing that name again felt like the unexpected sound of shattering glass, like the first drops of rain against her skin. One she hasn’t heard spoken in a long time, forbidden and forgotten as though it were a curse. It had been years since Carson’s spoken of her, not since the following weeks after Jamie left. Quiet in his mourning like the rest of the family. Solemn whispers in corners and sidelong glances of concern and disquiet, gradually ebbing away until the jagged edges were smoothed with time until the memories were a faceless thing with no name. Swallowing thickly, she glanced briefly at him, at the fond wistfulness across his features as he stared through the windshield.

“Yeah?” she said in a gentle encouragement to continue. 

Carson nodded and murmured, “Wish she was here. She would have loved the show.”

A dim ache spread across Dani’s chest, a fond smile pulling at her mouth. “Yeah,” Dani breathed, “She would’ve.”

Lightning flashed again, sparks of blue hanging low in the sky in the far distance, thunder following shortly in a slow roll. And all too easily, all too abruptly, Dani could hear Jamie’s voice in her head. ‘Looks like a big one, Poppins.’ Could picture her crooked grin and mischievous eyes, eager for another wild storm chase with Dani right at her heels. But they were in Dani’s car this time, and just the thought alone — of Jamie being here next to her, egging her on for another chase, teasing her for being the driver for once — left her feeling strained and bone weary with longing affection.

She found her foot gradually pushing down on the accelerator, urging her car faster down the highway in an effort to vanish the memories and to leave the storm behind them, thunder and lightning growing distant in the rear view mirror.

— 

It was the end of the semester, and Dani had offered Eddie a ride back to North Liberty. A carpool to save them gas. It felt strange having him in the passenger seat. Normally he would insist on driving. Other cars Dani did not drive. Someone else would step towards the driver’s side, and she would shrink away towards the passenger seat. But nobody drove Dani’s car except her. Always. 

Outside the sky had begun to darken, and the fields were a vast, flat silhouette beneath a deepening grey sky. Dani flicked on the headlights to illuminate the road. Beside her Eddie seemed content being in control of the radio station, fiddling with the dials until he arrived at some jazz or folk station that he preferred. The conversation was calm and easy. The two of them drifted from topic to topic, unafraid of the silences in between. Unlike his brothers, Eddie could sit in the silence of his own thoughts with another person for hours. 

It was, Dani thought, one of the things she liked about him best. Being alone, together. 

“Have you heard anything from the twins lately?” Dani asked.

Eddie tapped along to a soft jazzy beat in the background, his fingers gently keeping time against his knee. “Not much,” he said. “David’s still at that accounting job, and Tommy’s wedding is all scheduled for April.”

“Where’s that happening?”

“Cedar Rapids, I think.” Eddie turned his head towards her. “Will you come as my plus one?”

Smiling, Dani kept her eyes on the road. “Of course. What? Did you think I wasn’t going to go? Judy would drag me up there herself.” 

He chuckled. “Yeah, that sounds right.” 

“I’m going to need to buy a new dress, though.”

“Why? Your mom isn’t coming, is she?” 

“Well, I don’t know. Tommy’s in charge of the wedding invitations.” 

“And you think he’s going to send one to your mom?” Eddie asked, incredulous.

Dani shifted her grip upon the steering wheel. “You try telling her she can’t come.”

He made a face. “No, thanks.”

“Coward,” she said, shooting him a grin.

“And proud of it. Your mom is a lot.”

“You don’t have to tell me that.” 

Silence again. The white noise of the tires across worn out asphalt beneath the faint strains of twelve-bar blues. Dani concentrated on the straight of road, while Eddie contemplated the stars dotting the horizon through the window. 

They did not speak again until Dani pulled up to their childhood street and killed the engine in front of her mom’s house. By that time, night had washed over the earth. A few houses on the street burned through their windows with interior lights, bleeding warmth and attracting moths. 

“Thanks for the ride,” Eddie said into the quiet darkness of the car. 

Dani smiled over at him. “Yeah. No problem.”

“You should come over for lunch tomorrow. Mom would love to see you.”

“I’ll be there at eleven,” Dani said. 

“Great.” 

Through the dim light, she could see him smile. He leaned over the center console and kissed her. His mouth was warm and soft, and he cradled her jaw in his palm. When she closed her eyes she could almost imagine she felt something. Could almost convince herself. The kiss was chaste yet lingering, and when he pulled away he stroked his thumb over the bluff of her cheek.

“Wish mom would let you stay over,” he murmured.

“Like old times?” Dani joked.

“Yeah.”

He leaned forward again. A brief kiss. And then he was gone. Opening the door and hauling himself out, striding across the street. Dani watched him all the way, as he fumbled with his keys at the front door, until finally he had entered his house and vanished from sight. 

Her hand was still squeezing the steering wheel in a death grip. With a slow exhale, Dani let go and stepped out onto the street. Unlike the O’Mara house, her mom’s house was dark. When she unlocked the front door and pushed it open, she was greeted with darkness. The smell of cigarettes was familiar and overpowering. Not even a college campus full of hormonal twenty-somethings could compete. 

For a moment she lingered, hand at the doorknob, teetering on the liminal space between outside and inside, between sacred and profane. The house itself was a yawning open space. A muzzle. Something with teeth that needed to be chained off from loss of limb. Snatching her hand away, Dani stepped forward and shut herself inside.

Creak of the floorboards beneath her feet. After so many years, this house managed to surprise her still. New groans, new sensitive spots on the floor to catalogue and avoid. Her eyes flicked towards the ceiling, but she heard nothing from above. Her mother must be dead asleep or otherwise out and about for the evening. Dani did not know. Nor did she particularly want to know.

Slowly, carefully, she crept upstairs. Flicking on the light in her room felt like an intrusion in and of itself. As though she had set something alight, touched a torch to the pyre and a roar of kindling. Shutting the door behind her, Dani changed into pajamas as quickly as she could and slipped beneath the sheets of her bed, book in hand. At first she did not open it, ears pricked, listening for clues, but the house was — as ever — usually silent. 

She had only just cracked the book open to the marked page when her bedside table crackled with a faint voice. Frowning, Dani reached over, opened the top drawer, and found an old walkie talkie there. The radio was scuffed from use, wire mesh scraped and worn and half buried beneath miscellany. She picked it up and leaned back against the pillows, holding her breath for whoever was on the other end to make a noise again. 

It was an irrational thought. A memory. A daydream. A secret. A wish. She clutched the radio to her chest in breathless anticipation, expecting —

“Danielle?” 

The speaker crackled with disuse, louder than she had been expecting. Dani almost dropped it into her lap, had to fumble to keep it in one hand. Swallowing thickly, she lifted it and pressed down on the button. 

“Eddie? Is that you?” 

“Hey,” he said. “You’re still awake.”

“Yeah.”

“Your mom around?” 

“No. But I don’t know when she’ll be back.” 

Silence. It went on for so long that Dani pressed the button down again and prompted, “Eddie?” 

“I’m here,” he said. 

Her shoulders relaxed. She could almost imagine him sprawled out on the bed beside her, his large frame cramped in such a small space. She wished he were here, now. She wished he were warm and solid beneath her hand. She wished she could touch him. She wished she wasn’t alone. She wished -

“Will you marry me?” he asked. 

It wasn’t the first time he’d asked. It wasn’t even the second. It was however the first time Dani hesitated. Swallowing thickly, Dani found herself gazing at her bedside table again, at the photo of Jamie and herself propped there, at that broad blazing smile. 

Dani squeezed her eyes shut. Her hand was squeezing the life from the walkie talkie, and she had to force her fingers to unclench. She pressed her thumb against the button and murmured, “Good night, Eddie.”

—

‘Dear Jamie,

Come home.’

[aesthetical-bucky]

Soft Hearts Beating As One

Pairing: Beefy!Bucky x chubby!reader

Summary: Bucky is inevitably in love with you, and when you ghost him after sharing a passionate first kiss, he’s hurt and makes it his mission to find out why you’re running from him.

Prompt: Bucky and chubby!reader share their first kiss and afterwards reader ghosts him. Days later he hears her talking to Wanda that readers last bf left her after they got more intimate because he obviously found her unattractive after all. And reader doesn’t want this to happen with Bucky but also doesn’t know what to do. Now Bucky’s even more determined to show her he loves her the way she is and won’t let her go as long as she’ll have him.

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: insecure reader, soft smut, 18+ only please :)

Authors Notes: This is written for @the-ss-horniest-book-club and just wanted to remind you that your body is perfect and never let anyone, whether it’s a friend, boyfriend, girlfriend, a stranger, tell you otherwise!

Thank you so much to @becs-bunker​ for proofreading this for me! I truly appreciate it honey!!! Love you 😘

Bucky couldn’t understand it. The kiss the two of you shared just a couple of days ago was perfect and full of passion. Bucky didn’t think anything was wrong, he even made sure to brush his teeth with his new toothpaste and eat mints up until the moment, so it couldn’t have been his breath that made you ghost him days later. 

Bucky had a big crush on you since the second he saw you. He thought you were the most gorgeous person he ever laid eyes on. Your curves in all the right places; your hips, your thighs, your butt. He often imagined you riding him during his dreams, his hands on your soft waist as you came undone around him.

He much preferred you to the skinny ladies with fake boobs that often threw themselves at him during Tony’s dumb parties.

You simply didn’t understand why Bucky was so interested in you because you saw the kind of woman who lusted after him and he could have any woman he wanted. But as the days went on, you noticed his presence lingered around you more and more. And eventually, he had opened up to you about having a crush, which you, of course, did reciprocate.

So, that’s why Bucky couldn’t understand your sudden ghosting. The way you would scatter from the room if he entered. Apparently, none of the team knew either. He thought you liked him, and he didn’t remember doing anything wrong during the kiss. 

Bucky was about to enter the kitchen when he heard Wanda and you talking.

“I thought you liked Bucky?”

“Oh, I do, so much. He’s amazing.” You smiled into your coffee, and then your sad thoughts came back.

“So what’s wrong?” Wanda pushed, knowing she could just enter your mind and find out if you weren’t going to say anything. 

“I just. I’m scared. My last boyfriend left me after we had sex for the first time, he clearly found me unattractive and I’m just scared Bucky will do the same. He’ll see my fat on my body and be disgusted with me, or even worse his large frame won’t fit between my thick thighs. Sorry, that’s too much information.” 

“Not at all. This is what girls are for. Come on sweetheart, do you really believe Bucky would do or think that? We’ve all seen the way he looks at you.”

Wanda’s right, Y/N. Listen to her, for the love of God.

Bucky nibbled his thumbnail as he desperately wanted to know your answer. 

“I don’t know what to do. The kiss we shared was amazing, I just can’t help the feeling I’m not good enough.” You said sadly and Bucky heard enough. 

You and Wanda left the compound for a few hours after your talk, to go girl shopping for some new lingerie and clothes. It was just so nice to be carefree and away from it all. 

This gave Bucky plenty of time to muster up his plan and put it into action. He had stopped by the flower shop and picked the biggest bunch of scented red roses. Bucky sprinkled rose petals on your duvet and put a bottle of champagne in ice on your table next to the bed. 

You returned to the compound a few hours later as it started getting dark outside. You bid goodnight to Wanda and decided on relaxing with a rom-com movie in bed and some chocolate. 

There was a soft glow under your door, but you thought maybe you had left a lamp on and thought nothing of it when you opened the door and slipped inside your room. You sighed as you kicked your shoes off and lowered your bags on the floor. 

You turned around and froze. Bucky was semi-naked on your bed with a rose between his lips. Soft music started playing in the background and the light you saw from the hallway, was actually a couple of candles flickering. The shadows danced on the ceiling and you stood there with your mouth gaped open. 

“Hi, doll.” He grinned as he removed the rose and put it to the side. His broad chest on inviting you to stare as he stalked towards you. Bucky stood in front of you, his hands on your waist and he pulled you closer. 

“Hi, Bucky,” you whispered back, confused by what all this was about. It was like he had the power to read your mind. Because, before you could ask him, he spoke.

“I just need you to know doll, that I absolutely love everything about you. You’re perfect, there’s nothing I’d change about you. And I kinda eavesdropped the other day, please believe me when I tell you I’d never dream of walking out on you because I’m nothing like that asshole. I wouldn’t do that to you. It’s what’s on the inside that counts, you have a beating heart, and it’s full of gold, a fantastic personality and there’s never a day that goes by where you don’t make me smile or laugh. I love you Y/N, and I want to show you how serious I am.”

Tears welled up in your eyes and fell when you blinked. Those were the words you longed to hear when you were with your ex-boyfriend. And Bucky is right, he’s nothing like your ex. Bucky is more respectful and the more you thought about it; you never once heard a negative comment from him about your weight. 

“I love you too, Buck. And I’m sorry for feeling so scared.” You said after a few moments. 

“Don’t be scared, baby. I promise I won’t let anything happen to you.” He grabbed your hands and pulled you gently to the bed. 

Bucky slowly pushed you down on the soft mattress and tentatively lifted your shirt over your head. Your first instinct was to cover your chest and your arms wrapped around yourself. A lump formed in your throat and you were relieved the lights were off since the candles didn’t give you too much light. But Bucky wasn’t having that, he pried your arms and interlaced his fingers with yours and held them above your head. Bucky kissed down your neck to your collarbone, where he nipped the sensitive skin. 

A soft and quiet moan, only audible to Bucky thanks to his enhanced hearing, left your parted lips. 

“That’s it, baby. Let me hear your pretty little sounds. I’ll make you feel good, I promise.” He wiggled his fingers free from yours and reached round your back to unclasp your bra. Your natural big breasts bounced from being free and Bucky moaned at the sight of them. 

“Absolutely perfect.” He moaned, running his tongue over your nipple and gently grazing it with his teeth. The sensation caused you to arch your back and moan as your hands trailed in his hair. 

Bucky spent a couple of minutes on each breast, giving each one his undivided attention. He slowly kissed down between the valley of your breasts and towards your hips. Bucky nipped the sensitive skin as he unbuttoned your jeans and pulled the zipper down. Bucky hooked his thumbs on either side of the waistband and pulled them down your thick thighs along with your underwear. You were mildly aware that your pubic mound was a bit larger than most women’s, and you worried about what Bucky would think of it. 

“I’m sorr-”

“Shh. It’s perfect, doll. You’re perfect. There’s more to lick here.” His words made you tingle and you rested your head back and closed your eyes. 

Bucky teased your lips with the tip of his tongue. Your thighs were held open by his large hands and you lifted your hips for more. 

Before you could whine about it, Bucky’s tongue slithered through your wet folds and licked up and down on your sensitive, tingling clit. You moaned loudly, your hands tugging his hair harshly and he groaned against you, signaling he liked it. Bucky shook his head side to side and you became a moaning, withering mess. 

You felt the familiar warmth in your lower belly and you panted. 

“Bucky- fuck, I’m gonna cum!” You moaned as he sped up, groaning. His voice vibrated against your core and you were done for. You came hard over his tongue and you felt like you were teleported into a whole new world. Bucky licked you clean, taking every little thing that leaked out from you.

Bucky sat up and licked his lips with a grin. 

“Doll, hope you know I’m gonna do that every single day. The most delicious pussy I’ve ever eaten, and I haven’t had many.” He chuckled and you blushed, biting your lip. 

Bucky rid himself of the rest of his clothes and climbed on top of you. His hard length poking your inner thigh and you sighed. 

“Do you want me?” He asked, massaging your inner thighs with his hands. 

“Yes, I do, so much.” You answered honestly. 

Bucky moaned as his hard cock slid between your folds and poked your entrance. 

“Are you ready baby?” He groaned, feeling your walls clenching just from his close proximity. He knows you’re going to be the death of him someday. 

“I’m ready, Buck. Fill me up.” Bucky growled from your words and slowly, pushed himself in, eliciting a loud moan from you both simultaneously. Your walls immediately strangled his hard cock and his head was thrown back, chanting your name as he kept going, inch by inch until his balls rested against your butt. 

“Fuck, baby!” Bucky moaned out, thrusting at a comfortable pace that had you clenching and unclenching around him. Every vein of his cock dragged against your walls and his tip poked your sweet spot every time. 

Bucky hooked your legs around his forearms and he was able to go deeper than he’s ever gone with a woman. Bucky felt all of you and he loved it. Your soft, warm and rigidity walls sucked him out and were reluctant to let him go. 

Bucky’s intention was to make love to you, to show you how much he loved you. But the way you felt, he was having a hard time controlling his movements. 

“Bucky! I want you to cum inside me!” You moaned as you felt his shaft swell. 

“Doll-!” Bucky flicked his thumb over your clit and you clenched so hard Bucky was unable to move in and out freely. 

The warm feeling was back in your lower belly and you couldn’t hold it any longer. You needed the release, you wanted to cum over him. 

“Bucky-” 

“Cum for me baby.” A rush of euphoria washed over you as you came hard. Bucky moaned and growled all at the same time as he thrusted harder, chasing his own orgasm. With a few hard thrusts, his sticky mess painted your insides and you both sighed as he rode out your orgasmic bliss. “You’re the best I’ve ever had.” He said, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. 

“You’re the best I’ve been with too.” You whined at the loss when Bucky pulled out and rolled beside you. He pulled you close to his body and wrapped his arms protectively around you. Your head rested on his chest and under his chin. 

“I’m never letting you go, doll. I’m yours for as long as you’ll have me.” He kissed the top of your head and you looked up. 

“I’m yours too. Thank you for making me feel loved, Buck.”

Bucky chuckled and you smiled.

“You say that like we’re only gonna do it once baby. I’m gonna make love to you the whole night.” 

“So what are you waiting for?” You asked with a cheeky grin. Bucky peeked down and poked his half-hard cock. 

“Him.” He said and ah-ha’d when it finally stood up proudly. 

This was going to be the longest night of your life. And Bucky made sure you were happy and loved. 

He loved you so much and you loved him. Nothing could keep you apart because in the end, soft hearts beat as one.

Taglist: @criminal-cookies​ @hailmary-yramliah​ @jobean12-blog​ @nano--raptor​

[blueeyedgeorgie]

Makeup with Alex-A.E

“Alex got that Shane Dawson makeup kit, right? Maybe he could rope Y/N into filming a video with him (a “doing my girlfriends makeup” type thing) and it could be cute fluff Maybe the video also doubles as his introduction of Y/N to the fans ??”

Pairing: ImAllexx x Reader

Word Count: 1.7k+

___________________________

"I'm sure you guys only clicked on the video because Y/n is in the thumbnail," Alex spoke up as he took a seat on the cypress-colored couch. Next to him sat his friend, Y/n L/n. Y/n didn't have her own YouTube channel, but she was often spotted in his friends' videos. Just the other day Y/n was featured on Fraser's channel to talk about Trisha Paytas. "Yes, because I'm absolutely amazing," Y/n grinned. Her hand snuck her way into Alex's grasp, giving his hand a squeeze. "I can't disagree with that," a smile appeared on Alex's face as e looked to the floor in a bashful manner. Y/n merely let out a small giggle at his actions. "Are you gonna tell them or do I have to?" Y/n kept her eyes on Alex. "We also have news," Alex looked up to the camera, his smile stayed on his face. "Y/n and I have started dating." Excitedly, Y/n shot her hand that was holding Alex's into the camera frame, pulling his hand with her. Y/n's grin grew wider. "And even though most of you already know Y/n from other videos, what'd be better than talking about our relationship for 20 minutes while I try and do her makeup?"  Alex let out a chuckle as he wrapped an arm around Y/n's shoulders, she leaned into him with a smile. "This should be fun," Y/n muttered gently. "Makeup with Alex." "So Y/n pulled out some of her makeup and placed it on the table, but I also pulled out my own makeup as well," Alex gave a look at the camera. He leaned down to the coffee table that stood in front of them, quickly he picked up a black eyeshadow palette with the word 'Conspiracy' sprawled out on the front. "If you remember, I got one of Shane Dawson's palettes when it first came out." "How'd you even get it?" Y/n shook her head. "I just walked in and picked it up," Alex gave a small shrug as he placed the palette back down. "Oh, well I'm just happy you let me use it sometimes," Y/n gave a shrug as well. "Of course," Alex let out another chuckle. "Anyways, I think I should start doing your makeup now." "I actually forgot I wasn't wearing any," Y/n spoke, watching Alex pick up a random foundation. "That's because you're beautiful with or without it," Alex smiled as he picked up a fan brush and foundation blender. "I think I'm gonna go with these first." "Awh, I love you, bubba," Y/n cooed. In a quick pace, she leaned close to her boyfriend, placing a kiss on his jawline, missing his cheek. "Love you too, cutie," Alex smiled. "I think you're supposed to close your eyes... maybe?" Y/n gave a look at the camera before she closed her eyes. "Am I doing something wrong?" "No, no, just do the makeup, bubba." It was now Alex's turn to look at the camera before turning back to his girlfriend. The brunette had placed the foundation onto Y/n's face by using the blender, but once the foundation was on Y/n's face, he swapped the blender out for the fan brush. Y/n let out a giggle at the feeling of Alex putting the foundation on her face. Carefully, she opened her eyes to see what he was using. "You're not using the right brush," Y/n bit her lip, watching her boyfriend's attention pull away from focusing on painting her face. "How should I know?" "You literally watch me do my makeup every day while you wait for me." "I don't pay that much attention, apparently," Alex sighed. "Was I doing it right with the weird pink thing?" "Uh, yeah," Y/n gave a nod. Alex swapped out the fan brush for the blender again. "What's this thing called again?" "A blender, Al." "Blender," Alex repeated as he began to pat in Y/n's foundation. After a moment, Alex pulled away and placed the pink little thing back onto the coffee table. "What's this thing?" Alex picked up a small tube of color corrector. Quietly he mumbled the label of the tube to himself. "That's color correcter, bubba," Y/n smiled. "Oh." Alex opened the tube, pulling out the applicator. He began to brush it against Y/n's cheekbones. Y/n let out a laugh from Alex and his decisions with the makeup. "What's wrong now?" "Nothing," Y/n shook her head. "I feel like something's wrong because you're laughing," Alex bit his lip. "No, I'm just laughing because it tickles when someone else does it," Y/n slightly lied. "Whatever," Alex chuckled. He placed the color corrector back on the table in front of them and picked the blender back up and began to work on blending in the corrector. "Concealer? No clue what that is but we're not even gonna touch it," Alex looked through the tubes, bottles, and packages on the table. Y/n gave a look at the camera once again. "Contour... I guess I'll try this," Alex picked up a random brush to go with it. The brunette began to spread contour across Y/n's face. After a few moments of contouring, Alex was finally happy with the amount he placed on his girlfriend's face. "I find it amusing how we're not even talking, we're just focusing on the makeup," Y/n laughed, watching Alex go through her makeup once again. "I kinda wish I told everyone before so we'd be able to answer some of their questions," Alex replied, glancing back at his girlfriend. "I have a question," Y/n smiled. "When did you realize you had feelings for me?" "I think it had to be that one night we went out to that one fancy restaurant that had just opened. We went out with a couple of friends, but seeing you all dressed up... I think that's when I realized it," Alex responded. "What about you, cutie?" "It had to be when I spent the night, cooking with you was so fun and you let me steal one of your hoodies," Y/n grinned. "Bronzer," Alex mumbled, reading a small container. "I think I have a clue what this is used for." "Oh?" "Isn't it to highlight your face or something?" Alex asked, grabbing a small brush to use for the bronzer. "Sorta," Y/n smiled, watching her boyfriend. Gently, Alex pressed one of his hands against Y/n's neck, making her hold place as he began to place the bronzer on her face. Y/n held her breath as he did, something about Alex having a hand on her neck felt right. It felt good. Slowly, she bit her lip as she paid attention to how her boyfriend focused on her makeup. Soon enough, the feeling of Alex's hand left Y/n's neck as he pulled away. Yet, he still flashed a quick smirk at Y/n before fully turning back to the table to pick something new out. A smile reappeared on Alex's face as he went back to looking at the makeup, "Is it time for the eyeshadow?" "Is it?" "I think it is." For a moment, Alex's hands lingered around the brushes as he tried to decide with one he'd use for her eyeshadow. Y/n watched his hand, he wore a few rings on his hand. She had no clue why, but she adored the fact Alex wore rings, something was just so attractive about him wearing rings. One of the rings he was wearing at the moment was black with gold bits. Was it a Gucci ring? Probably. Finally, Alex picked out a decent brush before opening the palette. "I think I'm gonna give you a pink and gold look," Alex looked at all the different colors before finally deciding to bury his brush into the pink named 'Trisha'. Alex placed the palette down and buried his free hand into Y/n's hair, yanking her hair back to make her head lean back. Y/n bit her lip, fighting off the urge to let out a noise from Alex's sudden action. She peeked one of her eyes open to see a small smirk on Alex's face. He knew what he was doing. "What's going on here?" "We're filming a video, George. So you might want to go put on your disguise," Alex responded. Y/n kept her eyes shut, listening to their voices. "Nah, I know you'll just blur my face out if I come into frame," George replied. "Ooh, Makeup? Are we doing Y/n's makeup? Lemme join." "Absolutely not," Alex replied, his rip on Y/n's hair loosening as he spoke to his flatmate. "Awh, c'mon! Y/n! Tell Alex I can join, I bet I can do better than him," George began to whine. "George, you literally tried to use eyeshadow to turn Alex into Mike Wazoski," Y/n replied, not bothering to open her eyes. "Boo!" George responded, finally heading back into his room. "Alright, back to what we were doing," Alex spoke once his flatmate was out of sight, once again his grip tightened on Y/n's hair. Y/n fought back the need to let out a moan. "You alright, Y/n?" "Just peachy," Y/n practically whined. "You don't sound like it." "Shut up, Alex," Y/n let out a giggle. After a few moments, Alex finally pulled his hand out of Y/n's hair. He turned back to the table, closing the palette and going back through the makeup. "Uh, mascara? No, Eyeliner I think," Alex finally picked up a black eyeliner that held gold cursive on the side of it. "Close your eyes, cutie." Y/n bit her lip as she followed instructions. She felt the tip of her eyeliner against her skin. After a moment, Alex told her she could open her eyes again. "I'm not even gonna try with the mascara, I might poke your eyes out," Alex shook his head at the sight of the black tube sitting on the coffee table ominously. "Finally, lipstick," Alex muttered, looking through the different shades Y/n owned. He decided on a soft pink shade before turning to Y/n. Gently, he applied the lipstick, Y/n watching as he did so. "Wait, I think something's missing from your lips, lemme just-" Alex leaned in, pressing his lips against Y/n's. Y/n smiled into the kiss, leaning closer as she placed a hand on her boyfriend's thigh. They broke apart from the kiss before they would begin to make out. After all, they were still filming. "Now I need to reapply your lipstick," Alex clicked his tongue. Y/n only shook her head with a small giggle. Once Alex was happy with his work, he placed the lipstick down. "I think I'm done." "You sure?" "Yes." "You forgot the blush." "...Fuck."

Taglist:

@daddydobrock​

@anyasthoughts​

@multifandom-but​

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again

tuesday again no problem will be skipping next week, please update your calendars. i’ll also be on extremely sporadically and may or may not have my shit together enough to fill the queueueue. there was a time when i kept a ten-day backlog in the queueueue can u folks even fucking imagine that

listening i’ve had lofi hip hop radio open while reading things for work bc it helps me focus and i really love this little two-minute track Odyssey by Dontcry and Nokiaa. also a good thumbnail. lots of layers in this one, i love the beginning...synth chimes? i don’t know music words.

reading HA. well. this has been a week and this week has not included reading things i want to admit to reading. it’s mostly genshin impact fanfic and various excel help guides. some fucking thing in our database is letting my boss output nested pie charts like the below but less readable and i want to stop her from doing that bc look at this shit! awful!

watching part of how i got the job i had now was bc i waxed rhapsodic about how i love system and figuring out how they work (true) and how i love figuring out how video game systems break down (less true, i love poking holes in worldbuilding instead). anyway, the thing i actually love is watching people gleefully destroy video games by playing them extremely not as intended. moster actory only comes out every so often, and i don’t even like sports, but this golf video specifically in the Fumble Dimension series by ex-SB nation staffers made me fuckin cough-laugh through a very bad afternoon. fumble dimension. i know it’s an hour. i KNOW. i have adhd. i understand your concerns. i’m telling you this whole thing is thoroughly enjoyable. at one point one of the hosts gives up trying to explain what is happening on the screen and instead, still in a golf-commentator-voice, gives you his chicken soup recipe. which does sound very good and i might try it. lemon AND chiles sounds tasty as hell.

playing i think i’m pretty done with genshin impact for now until the next area drops sometimes later this month/early january? my main team is almost maxed out, i genuinely don’t see how i can gain five more overall levels to unlock the crafting thing to get them maxed out bc i have done everything the game has presented to me. two-thirds of the areas are at 100% completion and the other three are at 94%. i might drop in and do the weeklies but idk if i’m gonna keep up with the dailies. v grateful for this free thing coming into my life when i was Super not doing well and also unemployed, but i’m really bumping up into the gacha game “pay money to make numbers go up” limits bc i still refuse to spend real money on this stupid big titty anime girl game.

i have no taste, am a wildly contradictory person, and contain multitudes.

making this thing for my sister is framed and mailed bc i coerced my landlord into taking it to the post office for me. started it in september, set it aside for a really long time, did 80% of it last month, set it aside for another three weeks bc i hate finishing and framing projects, but she’s fuckin done. i kind of want to make one for me, and i did order two frames, but again i despise the fiddly effort of framing things.

[dlwritings]

Firecracker Soul | Dean Winchester

Chapter 21 - Run Away

pairing - mob!Dean x teacher!ofc

word count - 3,516

warnings - none

additional notes at the end

(previous)

When Alice got to school on Monday, she stopped in the main office to talk to the secretary, Joy. "Hey," she said, giving the lady a smile. "Remember that man who came a few weeks ago? He brought me flowers? Signed in as Dean Winchester?"

"Mhm," Joy hummed, her smile widening. "Handsome guy."

"Yeah," Alice said. "Um, he might try and stop by again. If he does, please don't let him in."

Joy's face changed to an expression of concern. "Is he dangerous?"

"No, no, it's not that," she said. "He just-" She hesitated, then sighed. "We're in the middle of a fight, and I know he might try and come talk to me. I'm just not ready." Joy nodded in understanding and gave Alice a sympathetic smile. Alice thanked her and headed off to her classroom.

There were three sets of doors visitors had to go through before they got into the building. First they had to buzz into the main building and state their business to the camera, then they had to buzz into the office and sign in before they could finally be buzzed into the school itself. Realistically, all a person had to do was say the right thing, and no one would bat an eye. Alice was sure Dean could say, "I'm Alice Berkley's boyfriend, and she's expecting me for a visit," and Joy wouldn't think twice. It wasn't that Joy was dumb at all. Dean was charming and didn't appear threatening, especially since he'd probably been seen around the school before picking up Lexi. If he didn't set off any of the metal detectors, he was just a man with a kind smile and a bouquet of flowers.

Alice made sure Joy knew everyday for over a week not to let Dean in, and Thomas agreed to send her kids off again at the end of the day. She definitely owed him a few favors with everything he had done for her thus far that year.

Over a week had gone by since the party, but Alice still hadn't contacted Dean. He hadn't reached out either. She had no idea if he had been coming to pick Lexi up or not, but he hadn't been texting her. Just like their last fight, she wondered if they were done. Even though she knew this time, she needed to be the one to reach out, she couldn't get herself to do it. Every time she considered picking up her phone, she would picture Dean throwing a punch at Jaden, and she would set it down again.

She was sitting at her desk, looking over the kids' spelling tests, when there was a knock at her door frame. She looked up and saw Thomas. "Hi," she said with a small smile and a sigh. "Thanks for taking the kids out again."

He chuckled. "You don't have to thank me every time."

"I know, I know," she said. "I just appreciate it." Thomas nodded and walked into the room, propping himself up against one of the tables.

"How're you doing?" he asked.

"What do you mean?" she asked. "I'm fine."

"Ah, ah," he said, holding his hand up. "Remember, my daughter's your age. I've heard the I'm fine lie enough to sniff it out." Alice scoffed and shook her head.

"Just petty boyfriend troubles," she said, "and I'm not good at confrontation."

"You plan on hiding in here forever?" he asked.

"Can I?" she asked with a sad smile.

He scoffed. "I'm afraid not."

Alice slammed her head against the keyboard which made Thomas laugh again. "Why didn't you ever set me up with your son?" Alice asked him, looking up at him.

"Ah, that would be because he's gay," Thomas said.

"Right," she said with a nod. "Small detail."

Thomas smiled. "So how'd the fella do you wrong?"

She sighed. "He's just a jealous guy. I'm trying to go easy on him. He hasn't had the greatest life, and I think he's just afraid of losing people. In fact, I know he is. I just wish he could express himself in a way that wasn't so aggressive." Quickly, she added, "He doesn't hit me or anything. He never would. He just-" She sighed again. "He's really complicated."

"Well," Thomas said, standing up from the table he was perched on and walking over to her. He clapped her on the shoulder. "If true love was easy, we'd all have it."

Those were the words that kept running through Alice's head that night. If true love was easy, we'd all have it. If this was what love was like, she wasn't sure she wanted it. Being with Dean was fun, and most of the time he was sweet and caring, but the few times that he wasn't were what she didn't want. Was she not deserving of a healthy, normal relationship? Had Christine been right all along? Was Dean textbook toxic? Had she just been blind to his charm? Was it inevitable that he would end up hurting her?

On Tuesday, Alice was sitting in her classroom after school again when there was another knock at her door. She looked up, expecting it to be Thomas. Instead, it was Jess and Lexi. "Hey," Jess said, giving Alice a smile.

She sighed. "Hey."

"Don't look so thrilled to see me," Jess teased.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she said, standing up and walking over to Jess. She pulled her in for a hug.

"Lexi, you wanna go play while me and Ms. Alice talk?" Jess asked her.

"Can't I listen to big girl talk?" she pouted.

"Mm, not today, sweetie," Jess said, kissing her daughter on the head.

"You can go grab your chromebook if you want," Alice offered. "Watch some videos." Lexi nodded and did as Alice suggested. Alice knew she'd grab headphones, which meant she could talk to Jess without any fear of Lexi overhearing.

"Talk to me," Jess urged her, pulling up one of the adult-sized chairs to sit beside Alice. "I only heard that Bobby had to pull Dean off of Jaden."

Alice explained what had led up to Dean's outburst, and Jess sighed when she finished. "I'm sorry," she said. "I get why you're mad."

Alice sighed and asked the question she had been mulling over for a while. "Was he like this with Lisa?" Jess looked at her and sighed as well.

"No," she said. "Not really."

"Then why is he like this with me?" she huffed. "I don't understand."

"Well, you're not Lisa," she said. "He's not going to treat you like you are."

"But why does he have to baby me?" she asked. "If it's because of our age difference-" She hesitated. "-I need to know if that's something he's ever going to get over. Because I can't do this forever."

"He just wants to keep you safe," Jess said. "Try to go easy on him."

"I won't let him keep beating people up to protect me," she said, putting quotes around the last two words. "I'm done with men who think violence is essential in a relationship." Jess was quiet, and Alice ran her hands through her hair in frustration. "Jess, do you think he'll ever hurt me?" she whispered.

"No," Jess said without hesitation. "Never. Don't think like that."

"I can't help it," Alice sighed. "I'm so-" She paused. "Dean knows how bad my last relationship was, but he still does the things he does. I don't want to be afraid of him, but-"

"You should talk to him about this," Jess said. "If he knew you felt this way-"

"What about that fight we had at your house?" she said. "It was over the same thing. The whole Brent thing, remember? It was the same thing. I told him I didn't like how possessive he was, but it didn't phase him. So he knows, but he doesn't care."

"I'm sure he cares," Jess said. "Dean's just-"

"Complicated," she finished. "I know."

"I'm not saying how he acts is justifiable," Jess said.

"No, I know," Alice said. With another sigh, she added, "I just want him to understand what he's done and why I feel how I do and say he's sorry."

"I know," Jess said. "I understand."

-

Dean was alone at home taking a sip of yet another glass of whiskey when his phone rang. The sun had already set, but it wasn't too late yet. Still, he was a little surprised to see it was Jess. Jess didn't call him very often. If he did, it was almost always related to Lexi. He picked up quickly. "Hey," he said. "Is everything okay?"

"Depends on your definition," Jess said on the other end.

"What does that mean?" Dean asked, leaning back on the couch. He pinched the bridge of his nose. He knew this tone of voice. He was in for a lecture.

"I just saw Alice," she said. He sat up a little straighter.

"Where?" he asked.

"I picked Lexi up," she said. "They let me in."

"Of course they did," he muttered. "She must have me on some no-fly list."

"Because you scared her, Dean," Jess said. "She's not ready to face you yet."

"God, I know I messed up," he said with a heavy sigh. "I'm just working on how I can make it better."

"I get it," Jess said. "Just know that I think she's ready to talk to you, but you're probably going to have to be the one to initiate it."

When Dean got off the phone with Jess, he finished off his glass of whiskey and sighed. He was sorry. He really was. All he needed was a big, grand gesture to prove it to her.

And so, the wheels started turning.

-

On Friday, Alice got home after school and checked her mail. She didn't have anything in the box, but there was a package with her name on it on the ground. She furrowed her eyebrows and picked it up, searching for the address label. There was none. While she knew that probably should've raised a few red flags, she took the box anyway and headed up stairs.

She crossed into the threshold and dropped her keys and the box on the counter. She slowly started to open it and found a black jumpsuit and a pair of wedged sandals. There was a handwritten note on top of the shoes:

I know you're mad at me, but please be ready by 7:00. I swear I'll make it worth your while x

Alice pressed her lips into a tight line and dropped the note. Was she ready for whatever Dean had planned? Was she ready to face him again? The reality was, she couldn't ignore him forever.

When 7:00 rolled around, Alice was ready. Dean buzzed into her apartment, and she let him in. She paced back and forth, unable to stop herself from chewing on her thumbnail. Why was she so nervous? This was her boyfriend. This was Dean.

Dean knocked at her door, and she took a deep breath before opening it. He looked as handsome as ever: black slacks and a white button-up. In his hands was a bouquet of roses. "Hi," he said, giving her a smile.

"Hi," she said.

"These are for you," he said, handing her the bouquet.

"Thank you," she whispered. "They're beautiful." She stepped back into the apartment to put the flowers on the counter, then turned back to face him.

"Ready?" she said.

"Mhm," he hummed. He stuck his arm out for her to take, and she did. It was a little chillier outside than she expected, but she knew they would be in the car so she didn't really mind. Dean opened the door to the Impala for her, and she thanked him and slid inside. While she would normally slide as close to Dean as she could in the front bench seat, she stayed respectfully on her side.

Dean noticed but stayed silent, though his heart did break at the sight.

"So," Alice said, clearing her throat as Dean put the car in drive, "where are we going?"

"Come on," he teased. "It's always a surprise."

"Right," she whispered, staring out the windshield. She fiddled with her hands on her lap, and Dean sighed as quietly as he could.

This would be okay. They would be okay.

Dean turned on his music, and Alice's eyebrows furrowed when she recognized the tune. "Is this Ben Platt?" she asked. She leaned forward and turned up the volume slightly, hoping to catch the words of the tune.

You say there's so much you don't know. You need to go and find yourself. You say you'd rather be alone. Cuz you think you won't find it tied to someone else.

"Yeah," Dean said, a small smile growing on his face. "I thought I'd make a cassette."

"Of Ben Platt songs?" she asked. Dean shrugged but didn't say anything. Alice looked over at him and studied his profile. The sun had already set, so she could only make out little things, like his sparkling eyes and the slight glisten of his lips after he ran his tongue across them. The length of his stubble made her want to reach out and touch him, just like she always did. She held back though and forced herself to stare out the windshield again.

Alice was surprised when they pulled up to Dean's apartment. Still, she got out of the car when Dean opened the door for her. He put his arm around her waist and smiled to himself when she didn't jump away. "You gonna tell me what we're doing yet?" she asked as they walked towards the elevator. She gave Derek a smile as they passed, which he returned. As they waited for the elevator, Dean stood in front of her.

"I want you to see how much I care about you," he said, "and that I feel terrible about what happened at the party." Alice hung her head, but Dean lifted her chin. "I do," he pressed.

"'S okay," she mumbled.

"No, it's not," he said. The elevator dinged, and Dean put his hand on the small of her back and guided her in. "So I thought I would bring in a little surprise."

"Bring in?" she repeated.

"Mhm," he hummed. He pressed the button to the rooftop terrace and swiped his card to get access. She looked at him with raised eyebrows, but he just smiled.

When the doors opened, Alice could hear another familiar tune playing. They rounded the corner, and she froze at the sight in front of her. It was a small stage -nothing too fancy- and a group of people on stage with one man standing front and center. "Dean," she whispered, unable to get her feet to move. "Is that-"

"Welcome to your personal Ben Platt concert," he whispered in her ear. She looked up at him with a dropped jaw before a guitar started to play on the stage. She laughed in disbelief and ran over to the stage.

Ben smiled at her. "Hey, Alice," he said into the microphone. "How's it going?"

"It's-" She laughed again. "It's great now!"

He laughed as well. "Alright, well let's do this."

The concert was so great. Ben would stop in between songs to chat for a while, occasionally asking if she had any requests. Every time, she just told him to play whatever he was planning next. She didn't stand up and dance at all, but she bounced in her seat and sang along to every word to every song. Ben was an amazing performer, and for that whole time, she forgot why she had ever been mad at Dean in the first place.

When Ben started to play the last song, Dean stood up from the couch and held his hand out to her. "Dance with me," he said.

Just like that, her perfect bubble popped, and she remembered why they were fighting. Still, she nodded and took his hand.

Dean wrapped an arm around her waist and held her close to his body. He laced his fingers with hers, and she rested her head on his chest and her free arm over his shoulder, playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck. Ben's voice filled the space around them, and Alice closed her eyes, trying to stay in the moment and not overthink everything that had happened the past few days.

I may not be wise, and I won't save the day, but look in my eyes, and know I'll always stay. And I won't run away.

As soon as Ben finished the song, Alice broke out into cheers and applause. Ben laughed and put his hands together, bowing in a silent thank you. Alice looked at Dean. "Could you go get me some water?" she asked him. "I want to go talk to Ben."

He smiled. "Course, sweetheart." He kissed the top of her head, and she whispered a thank you. As soon as he was out of earshot, she walked over to Ben.

"Hi," she said. "It's so great to meet you. You were incredible."

"Thank you," Ben said. He offered her a hug, which she accepted. She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and looked behind her to make sure Dean hadn't come back yet.

"Can I ask you something?" she whispered.

"Sure," Ben said.

"You don't know Dean, do you?" she asked. He shook his head no. "So did he just, like, pay you a lot to be here?" Ben hesitated. "I won't be offended or anything. I'm just curious." Her eyes grew wide for a moment. "Oh my god, did he threaten you?"

"No, no," Ben laughed. "No. You were right the first time. He offered a pretty big hunk of money."

Alice nodded and thanked him again just as Dean brought her some water. Within the hour, Ben and his band were all packed up, and Alice and Dean were alone at the apartment. They stayed on the terrace, cuddled up with each other, staring at the sky. Alice didn't know what to say to him. What he had done was sweet, but it didn't solve the real problem at hand. She needed to get her feelings out, and she wasn't sure Dean was going to be the one to say anything.

Just when she got up the nerve to say something, Dean turned her chin so she was looking at him. He leaned forward and tried to kiss her, but she pulled away, and he hung his head and sighed. "How are you still mad at me?" he asked. Her lips parted in shock as she shook her head and stood up from the couch.

"I knew it!" she said.

"Knew what?" Dean asked.

"You think the normal way to make up after a fight is to do something like this?" she said. "Bribing my favorite artist into performing for me? That's not normal, Dean!"

"God, again with the normal thing," Dean said with a slight roll of his eyes.

"You're really going to roll your eyes at me?" she said.

"Are you saying you didn't like the concert?" he asked, folding his arms across his chest.

"I'm not saying I didn't like it," she huffed. "It was a private concert by Ben Platt, of course I liked it."

"Then I don't understand-"

"Exactly!" she shouted. "You don't understand! You don't understand how a normal relationship works! You think you can solve every problem with money or, or sex or murder! It's just, it's too much, Dean."

"So what are you trying to say?" he asked.

"Nothing!" she said. "I'm not-" She groaned and threw her hands in the air. "I just wish you could be normal! I wish this could be normal! I wish-" She sighed. "I just wish I could be in a relationship that made sense."

"So what, are we breaking up?" he said.

"We're-" She rubbed her forehead and hesitated. "We're taking a break, okay? I need a break. I can't do this right now." She grabbed her bag and started to walk to the elevator.

"Alice," Dean said. "Come on." Alice didn't say anything as the elevator opened. She knew if he really wanted to follow her, he would. And as the doors closed behind her, she realized he didn't.

Tears started to fall from her eyes as she called an Uber. It was there within five minutes. In that time, Dean never came down to talk to her.

Did she really just walk away from that relationship?

Dean rubbed his face with his hand in frustration. Okay. So that didn't work. He was running through every moment of the night. Alice seemed to have been enjoying herself. He was sure it was all okay. What had he missed? Now, was it his place to reach out to her again? Was the ball back in her court?

Did he really just let her walk away from that relationship?

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

A/N - when I wrote this I had just watched Ben Platt’s Netflix concert (it’s so good don’t even start with me) so if ya’ll don’t listen to him you’re missing out for real

(next)

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[ghostyprince]

your pantherverse au is beautiful and now im obsessed with ryan sneaking round trying to surprise and prod “mrrrps” outta shane. fic would be adorable if your still open to pantherverse requests 💖

i hope you like this, thank you for the prompt, it’s so hecking cute❤ also it’s mostly my friend’s @josemorningstar‘s au tbh, i just help in with it. (he’s happy to answer asks about it too!)

read on AO3

Ryan puts a finger to his lips, twisted into a grin, in a shushing motion, and then he taps the flip camera icon on his phone. Shane’s frame from behind pops up on the screen, sitting on his office chair, legs crossed. He’s editing a photo, probably for a thumbnail, and it’s one of those rare occasions when he’s so focused he doesn’t even hear Ryan walk up behind him.

Ryan is moving slowly, putting one foot after the other with the ease of a predator, skilled in sneaking up on his prey. That is Shane and he does not suspect a thing. Perfect.

The footage shows Ryan reaching out, just as carefully, before going in quick, making contact with Shane’s back, splaying out over the thin fabric of his shirt.

Ryan holds his breath as he does so and a heartbeat later—

Yeah, there it is. Shane jumps, a little sound escaping his lips, a sound that makes Ryan’s grin grow impossibly big. It’s one of his favorites, he’d die happily hearing it.

It’s a mrrp, a sound plenty of cats make when touched unexpectedly, but Ryan’s favorite is the one Shane does. So, of course, he tries to scare or surprise him as often as he possibly can.

He only puts it on Instagram because the whole experience of Shane making that noise is a blessing upon this world that needs to be shared. Well, not too often, Ryan would still like to keep most of the occasions he actually managed to surprise Shane into a mrrp to himself.

He stops recording after he zooms in on Shane’s very much unamused expression, accompanied by Ryan’s belly laugh. He barely had time to pull his phone down and duck out of the way of one of the smaller Paddington plushes flying towards him. Another set of giggles bubble up from his chest before he realizes what Shane actually threw at him.

“Hey, I got that from a fan, asshole!” He scoffs, going to pick poor little Paddington up and set him back on his desk carefully.

“That’s what you get for being a dick,” Shane says, chin propped up in his palm, focusing on his laptop again. There is a flush high on his cheeks and Ryan, once again, can’t contain his satisfied grin. Shane is blushing! He’s blushing and he’s fucking sulking, at that!

Easily the best thing he’s seen all day and it’s only 10 AM.

“But it’s so cute, Shane. Gotta share it with the fans!”

“It’s not fucking cute.” Shane murmurs. He sounds like he’s mad but Ryan catches a glimpse at the hint of a smile behind his fingers.

He knew he won immediately.

“I won’t post it if you don’t want me to.” Ryan offers because he’s a good friend. And he also knows how sensitive Shane is about the sounds he makes, due to having broken meows in his cat form. Ryan personally thinks it’s the sweetest thing ever, but Shane is stubborn as hell.

“Go ahead,” Shane says, letting out an exasperated sigh as if he’d be doing a huge sacrifice. What a drama queen. “I suppose at the very least people will see just how gone you are over me.”

He adds, with a smug drawl to his voice, and it had the desired effect because Ryan’s stomach does a little flip. The one specific flip it got used to doing ever since they’ve started playfully flirting with each other, just tethering on the edge of too much or too dangerous. On the edge of their friendship, before it evolves into something more. More serious, romantic, sexual, just more.

Ryan is still trying to catch his breath after that whole interaction as he settles back in his chair, to edit and post the video on Instagram.

He wonders when they will finally say fuck it, and jump over that line between friendship and something more together.

Or, because it’s them, the Ghoulboys, when will one of them finally drag the other over that line?

The next time Ryan gets the urge to make Shane do that wonderful little noise is when they’re filming the newest season of True Crime.

They’re about thirty minutes in and Ryan is reading his script, then coming to a pause to look at Shane and give him an opportunity to react. But Shane isn’t really looking at him. In fact, he’s just staring right in front of him, so deep in thought, Ryan isn’t sure he’s even in his body anymore.

Normally, Ryan would be concerned, and he is, to a degree, but he knows how hard Watcher has them working at the moment, the anxiety, that their whole company might be a flop. It had a toll on both theirs and Steven’s mental health. Not to mention their sleep schedules.

So it’s not unusual Shane is zoning out, especially while Ryan is trying to talk about some pretty heavy murder case. Ryan does see an opportunity, however, to have a little fun with Shane not paying attention to him.

Everyone kind of just stopped, including TJ, but before he could say anything, ask Shane if he’s okay, Ryan is reaching out, pointer finger extended. He holds his breath, the corner of his lips already lifting into a huge grin and then his finger makes contact with the side of Shane’s face.

And Shane jumps. He flinches more than Ryan had ever seen him, and he’d feel a little bad if it weren’t for that ‘mrrp’. It’s so loud, is the thing and it makes Ryan’s heart sing in happiness.

He bursts out laughing, head thrown back and his whole body bowing into it. There is some laughter from the crew too, but Ryan is too busy looking at Shane, all bright smile and shining eyes, despite Shane’s expression being pissed.

Ryan knows it’s not too serious, he has gotten used to that expression, with how much he’s been a brat lately, at every opportunity he gets, to get a reaction, anything out of Shane.

“Very funny, can we go back to the murked guy now?” Shane asks, trying and failing at covering up his embarrassment.

And well, Ryan could point out how he’s been the one zoning out, but it has no use, Shane is annoyed already, and Ryan does know not to go too far sometimes. He’ll make it up to him later by buying him lunch or something.

“Sure thing, big guy.” He says instead, shooting him one last smile, full of warmth and fondness and it might improve Shane’s mood just a little.

It’s going to be another story for Instagram, and then it will remain a video on Ryan’s phone, sitting there for ages, for him to hit up sometimes and smile about, ear to ear. Show Shane, maybe, as they’re chilling together at Ryan’s, or Shane’s, maybe their own apartment together at that point.

Fuck, they’ve only been officially a Thing for a few days and Ryan is already daydreaming about their future, years down the line. Well, can anyone put the blame on him, really? When Shane is sleeping next to him like that, so unbothered, beautiful in the setting sun that filters through the plane’s tiny window.

His face is smooth, and Ryan has the weirdest urge to kiss his nose, or the small cluster of freckles right above his right eyelashes, or Shane’s slightly parted lips, huffing little breaths of air. He thinks it may be the honeymoon phase of their relationship, all of it being so new. Ryan is simply overwhelmed with the fact that he could do all of that now, and more if he so pleases. On the other hand, he doesn’t think he will ever stop being giddy about that. Or how soft Shane looks when he’s sleeping.

Ryan took a picture of him before he started recording too, it’s easily one of his favorite photos of Shane. And then, because Ryan Bergara is an insufferable little shit who has to entertain himself on the boring plane ride, he figured he might as well try to make Shane do that sound again.

The very first time he shared it with the internet in the form of that office video everyone loved it. So, Shane’s little cat noise had been high demand, people kept tweeting and commenting and yelling at him absolutely everywhere to upload another one of those videos.

And well, who is Ryan Bergara to deny them?

He raises the phone higher, to frame Shane perfectly, and carefully removes his hand from where it was resting, on top of Shane’s. Luckily, he didn’t react to that.

Ryan takes a few minutes, to think about how he’d like to approach it. Simply touching Shane has been done, he should do something more original.

He could poke his nose. Or tickle his neck. Ryan hums and his gaze happens to drift over to Shane’s hair. He could just bury his hand in his hair like he would with a cat’s fur.

He starts recording again, and the mic picks up his amused little chuckle.

“Part two for you folks, here we go.” He announces in a hushed tone before carefully reaching out to bury his fingers into Shane’s oh so soft locks, carding through it, maybe way too lovingly for it to be taken as a friendly gesture.

And then, there it is.

Shane lets out Ryan’s favorite noise and Ryan is fucking overjoyed. Up until Shane full-on tilts his head into Ryan’s hand as he lets out an enthusiastic purr, and Ryan forgets to breathe.

“Ohmygod.”

The words are punched out of his lung, in one breath, smushed together, and when Ryan would listen back to his voice later he would realize how in awe and disgustingly in love he sounded just then.

And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

He ends the video, almost abruptly. His other is still brushing through Shane’s hair, subconsciously, scratching at his scalp with gentle fingers. He feels Shane shudder and then brown, sleepy eyes are blinking back at him. Shane’s purrs go quiet but it reverberates through his chest ever so slightly. Ryan can feel it when his hand drops onto Shane’s nape, tangling into the long strands of hair there too, pulling just a bit, just to feel Shane shudder again, hear the soft growl coming from the back of his throat.

“Stop it, you’re gonna make me horny.” He murmurs and Ryan wheezes, but complies. Reluctantly.

“Did you just take a video of me, by the way?” Shane asks, rubbing a hand down his face, tired. Ryan feels it too, the exhaustion as he looks at his friend, business partner, boyfriend. They’ve really been through an awful lot these months, with Watcher, currently shooting the new season of Supernatural.

But they could always take a nap together.

“Yeah, but don’t worry about it. We’ll talk about it later. Go back to sleep, big guy.” Ryan tells him quietly, pocketing his phone and well, who is Shane to say no to that?

So he does, slipping as far down his seat as his Sasquatch legs would allow him, so he can rest his cheek against Ryan’s shoulder, using him as an impromptu pillow. Ryan does not complain at all.

They would talk about the video, later, when they would be in their hotel room.

Well, it isn’t much of a talk at all, it’s more of Shane watching the video while Ryan worries his bottom lip between his teeth. He shouldn’t even be nervous. He’d understand if the video would end up in his drafts for a few months still, years even.

Then Shane looked up at him, with that incredibly annoying, unreadable expression on his face, before leaning in to press a kiss to Ryan’s cheek. “It’s cute, you should post it.”

That’s all he says, in the most nonchalant way possible and Ryan would like to hit him a little bit for that.

Regardless, the video ends up uploaded onto his feed instead, because it deserves to be there, not just for a day, but for a good while, to mark the beginning of a new chapter of sorts.

It deserves a caption just as monumental, so there are no misunderstandings or a flood of questions later on.

ryanbergara: Part 2 of annoying the boyfriend 💖

Ryan wakes to the sunshine burning his eyes, still feeling as sleepy when he and Shane went to bed last night as he checks his phone. It’s way too early in the morning for either of them to be awake.

And yet, here they are. Here is Shane, turned in a way that Ryan can see the expanse of his back Ryan loves to admire. He sweeps his gaze over his favorite freckles on Shane’s back and the dip of his waist disappearing under the covers. The sunlight drapes over Shane’s back invitingly, making it seem warm, soft and kissable.

He kissed all those freckles many times, and he still can’t get enough of the sight of them, not even so many years later.

He still can’t get enough of waking up next to Shane, seeing him first thing in the morning. Ryan’s heart flutters every time, he simply cannot help it.

There is a faint light coming from the other side of Shane, bouncing off of his hair, suggesting he’s on his phone.

And that won’t do, Ryan is awake and he needs attention.

He moves, swiftly fitting himself behind Shane, with one strong arm wrapping around his waist under the covers securely.

“Mrrp!”

The sound lets something loose in Ryan and he melts behind Shane, his hold tightening around him has Shane complaining in the form of a groan.

Ryan doesn’t care one bit though, he’s purring loudly now, much deeper and powerful than Shane’s purrs normally are, considering he’s a panther. It must reverberate through Shane’s whole body because he relaxes, pressed into Ryan’s chest and head falling back on Ryan’s shoulder.

His hand finds Ryan’s, long fingers curling around his, lacing together and knocking their matching silver rings together in the process.

“You’re crushing me, dumbass.” Shane laughs, quietly, fondly, in contrast to his words.

“Mhm, don’t care.” Ryan hums, pressing a chaste kiss on Shane’s shoulder and hugging him even closer, to prove a point.

“Sure you don’t. Go on, suffocate your poor husband if that’s what I deserve! For being your faithful lover for years and—” Shane cuts himself off with another groan of complaint, attempting to turn out of Ryan’s arms when he has the audacity to wheeze into Shane’s neck.

Yeah, Ryan wouldn’t have it any other way.

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Jigsaw // Red: Part One

Valhalla 

A/N: Picking up right where we left off with Blue (which you can find on the Billy Russo page of my masterlist). Billy’s on the run and needs to find a place to hide out while he comes up with a plan. 

Warnings: character death

Word Count: 3,730

.

Left. He hit the sidewalk and immediately turned, shifting himself sideways to disappear down the alley. Go, go, go. Legs turning over with perfect form, he ran between the buildings, a blur of red brick on one side, pale gray concrete on the other. The sound of his breathing drowned out everything but the voice in his head telling him where to turn. Right. Coming through to the next street, he spun, socked feet splashing through a puddle of condensation from the A.C. unit in the window above. Alley, now. A trash bag lay across the opening of the narrow space. Jump it. Right leg extended, he vaulted over the garbage heap, springing off his coiled left calf and landing in stride, continuing to run without missing a beat. An aluminum chain link fence greeted him at the end of the alley, and he quickly calculated the necessary motion to climb it. Wait! Back pressed against the grime covered wall, he held his breath in the shadows as two police cruisers flew by, sirens wailing. He counted to ten, waiting to see if any more were in pursuit. He could hear more sirens joining in from other parts of the city, but for now the way was clear. Go, up and over. Securing the folder inside his zipped sweatshirt, he jumped and gripped the fence with both hands, fingers curling through the wire diamonds. He pulled himself up with ease, throwing one leg and then the other over the top and landing hard on the soles of his feet.  

Keep fuckin’ going. Listening to the commanding voice in his head, Billy immediately took off running again. His lungs were on fire and he had a cramp in his gut but just like in an active warzone, he knew that he couldn’t rest until he’d reached the checkpoint. Not that he had one in mind when he broke free, but as he scaled the fence he realized that his legs were taking him to a specific location- an abandoned warehouse in Red Hook. Of course. He coughed, wheezing slightly as he pushed himself to follow his feet as fast as he could. Of course that’s where I’m goin’. He reverted back to auto pilot, following the commands to make turns and slip through alleys, allowing his thoughts to traverse the labyrinth in his brain like a mouse in a maze, desperate for the cheese. With a wince and a jerk of his head, a memory tumbled to the frontlines as he got closer to his destination.   

 ..  .. ..  .. .. ..  .. 

‘S’just an idea I had,” Billy shrugged and shoved his burger haphazardly into his mouth, filling it with food so he’d have an excuse not to elaborate too much. You watched him from across the retro red table, tapping your thumbnail against the grooved aluminum edge.

  “It’s a great idea, Billy,” you’d said encouragingly, French fry suspended over your plate, a dollop of ketchup plopping off the end of it.

 He chewed around a small smile, keeping his eyes on you as he reached for the pebbled plastic soda glass in front of him. He swallowed the bite he’d taken and chased it down with a few loud slurps of his drink before setting what was left of his lunch back on his plate. “I dunno about great,” he said with a minute shift of his shoulders. “Still got a lot of work to do. Gonna need investors and warehouse space and-“

You stopped tapping at the aluminum trim and stretched your hand across the small two top booth to grip his, giving a light squeeze. “Yeah,” you said with a nod. “Yeah, you got a lot of work to do. But the idea is a good one, and a lot of good people will benefit from it.”

She gets it. He cleared his throat and sniffed, nose wrinkling up. “Yeah, I mean… just thinkin’ about guys like me’n Frankie. Guys that gave decades of their lives to the military. Guys that need to have somethin’ to fall back on when they get home… what kinda jobs are gonna hire 38 year olds with no experience, ya know?” He was talking mainly about Frank, but he wasn’t far behind his friend in terms of age or the things he was willing to risk as that number went up.“Give ‘em a chance to use the skills they have instead’a tryin’ to scramble to fit in to some 9-5…” Let ‘em be with guys who understand…

 “So what do you have to do then, Billy? How do you make this happen?” You’d pushed your plate aside to give him your full attention, one hand still linked with his over the scarlet and silver boomerang patterned laminate.

He’d hesitated to tell you about his idea of starting his own private security company, because saying it out loud meant that it was real. Telling you about it was essentially sealing a promise to himself...and to you, that he’d make it work, and he wasn’t sure that he could. But the way that you asked those questions, with nothing but clarity and belief in your tone, the way your hand never left his, it made him feel like maybe it wasn’t so crazy. Maybe I can. “Well, I gotta figure out how much I need to get started. Equipment, endorsements, facilities,” He ticked those off on the fingers of his free hand before his tongue came out to lick his lips.  “I...actually, I looked into this one warehouse in Brooklyn already. Not that I’m expectin’ it to still be available when I’m ready to pull the trigger but… I wanted to look into the numbers.”

“Will you show it to me?” The excitement on your face pulled his cheeks up slowly, almost making him laugh.

“What?” He shook his head looking down at your hands. “Nah, you don’t wanna,” he looked back up to find that you hadn’t so much as blinked. “I only got two days left, you wanna waste one of ‘em in a dirty old building?” But even as he tried to talk you out of it, Billy realized that he did want to take you there.

The server came over then, coffee pot in one hand and stress written all over her tired face despite the fact that there were only three other occupied tables in the joint. “Get you two anything else?” The way she asked the question dictated what she hoped the answer would be.

Without missing a beat you turned to respond to the woman. “Nope, we’ll take the-” she dropped the puffy black check presenter on the table where it clapped together with a soft thud. “-check, thanks!” You pulled your hand from Billy’s and let him inspect the bill before he dug his wallet out, tucking some cash behind the curled thermal paper and then placing it on top of the dented silver napkin holder.

When he had returned his wallet to the back pocket of his dark jeans, you tilted your head and cocked one eyebrow. “What?” He asked, to which you’d only changed the angle of your chin. “Really?” Your smirk answered and he felt a swelling in his chest at your stubborn faith in him. “You’re serious.” That one wasn’t a question.

 You stood from the booth and wrapped your scarf around your neck before slipping your arms into the sleeves of your jacket. Billy did the same, following your lead. When you’d both donned your outerwear, you pulled your hair up and over the thick cable knit loops of your neck covering and bounced up on the balls of your feet to kiss the corner of his mouth. “I am, Russo.” Motioning toward the door and lacing your fingers with his, you licked your candy apple lips. “Lead the way, Billy.” 

 ..  .. ..  .. .. ..

His breathing picked up, uneven and ragged, fingers shaking as they clutched the rusty gate, swinging it open. The chase was over and his body reacted accordingly, heightened senses returning to normal levels, the adrenaline slowly draining from his blood. The greedy gulps of air he was taking would make him sick. He knew that, but there was nothing he could do. His survival instincts got him as far as they needed to before vanishing into the abyss, leaving him alone. Closing the gate behind him, Billy staggered through the fenced in loading dock of the abandoned warehouse, shoeless feet tripping on the cracks in the pavement where stubborn weeds were pushing through the concrete. Broken glass littered the ground as he got closer to the building, an entire pane having fallen from the third story, nothing but a few jagged spears remaining in the window frame.

The crunching, crashing sound of glass shattering echoed in his ears, forcing a wince and a pitiful hissing sound that was a mixture of pain and fear. Tearing his eyes from the fragments, he gripped the top of his head and shook it hard, jogging the sound and the visions that came with it from his mind. The blare of a bus horn from a few blocks away brought him back to the moment. Chest heaving, Billy gripped the folder that he’d tucked under his sweatshirt, confirming for the tenth time since his escape that he hadn’t lost it. What little relief was left for him trickled through his body as he finally reached the door and found it unlocked.

Tugging the handle he pulled it open, flakes of rust falling from the hinges as they creaked and screeched their disuse. The bottom of the door dragged over the concrete, scraping a crescent shape into the ground. He stumbled inside and yanked the door shut behind him, giving three hard pulls to close the stubborn portal. He kept moving, using the sunlight that filtered in through the thick, clouded windows to seek out the staircase on the near side of the vast and empty space. It had been over a year since he’d last been there, but he was confident that the steps hadn’t decayed past the point of use. Testing his weight on the bottom few he saw that he was right. He gripped the oxidized rails, the peeling metal rough against his palms as he climbed to the second floor, footsteps echoing in the vast, empty space.

This wasn’t Anvil’s home, but it might have been, almost was. There was more graffiti than there was the last time he’d set foot inside, depleted spray paint cans littering the ground and coming into view as he took the last few steps. The word Valhalla was scrawled across the bricks in the loft, accented with flames and shadows, a few broken, lumpy chairs and mattresses spread beneath the mural. The room had clearly been used as some kind of illegal den for drugs or other illicit activity, and simply hadn’t been cleaned out when the inhabitants had been dispatched. A rat scurried out from under one of the dilapidated pieces of furniture and found refuge inside of a potato chip bag in the corner. Billy stood before the painted wall. Valhalla. What a crock of shit. He recalled the way that he and his brothers in arms had often compared themselves to the Vikings, to the Gods of War, talking about valor and the glory that was waiting for them back home. There’s no glory left, no good death for me. He tore his eyes from the lettering and sank down onto one of the badly torn couches, a broken sound coming from his throat as he pulled the folder from where it was tucked beneath the zipper of his sweatshirt, letting it fall to the ripped cushion beside him, his head falling to hang between his hands.

Outside, the clouds shifted in the sky letting hazy afternoon light find its way through the damaged windows. It created a spotlight effect that drew his gaze to a hastily sprayed “X” on the floor in the center of the room, the splotchy ruby red paint scuffed from where careless boot soles had stepped over it. His mouth fell open, an incredulous breath bursting forth as he dragged his palms over the close cropped hair on top of his head, fingers curling around the helix of his ears and memory hurtling back to the last time that he’d been in that building.

..  .. ..  .. .. .. 

You reached the door before he did, both hands gripping the chunky steel door handle, eagerly trying to tug it open but struggling to do so. He watched your shoulders hunch up as you tried to pull harder before you turned to look back at him. The excitement on your face would have been more suited to opening the door to a luxury suite in a gilded mansion than a rundown old paint factory with more broken panes of glass on the floor than existed in the window frames, but he knew it was there and it was real. Because she loves me. That simple, overwhelming thought was the hardest thing he’d ever wrapped his head around. He shook his head as his lips parted, one side quirking upwards involuntarily. “Easy there killer, lemme do that.” Billy reached passed you and grabbed the handle, a flush of warmth flooding his veins as you leaned back into his chest, your fingers falling away from the door as he gave a hard pull to pry it open, the bottom scraping the ground. “Still can’t believe this is what you wanna-“

  You turned quickly and pressed two fingers, skin chilled from the early spring air, against his lips to silence him. “Believe it. This is where I wanna be. Nowhere else. Now,” You winked at him and turned back towards the darkened entry that he’d just wrenched opened. “Correct me if I’m wrong, Mr. Russo, but you were going to take me on the tour of your new facility, were you not?” You started to take a step through the door when his arms quickly circled around your waist, stopping you. They flexed, tightening his hold and forcing a bubbly laugh to spill from your soul.

  “Yeah,” he brought his lips to your ear, pressing them to the flesh behind it. “Right this way, ma’am.” He unwound his arms and took your hand, carefully leading you into the building. The heavy door swung shut with a thud and you jumped slightly. “I got ya,” he said, squeezing your hand as the metallic sound of the door echoed throughout the cavernous space. You squeezed back and threw a smile in his direction.  

  Late afternoon light was streaming in through the remaining glass panels, showing off an iron staircase that lead to a lofted office area, and behind it an enormous room with concrete flooring. “So down here we’d build this out for training purposes,” he motioned to the space with the hand that wasn’t holding yours. “Put up walls, build rooms for guys to run tactical drills in. S’enough square footage to run two teams through drills at once.” He cleared his throat and nodded. “I uh, I looked into that, too.”

  He’d looked into more than he let on at the diner, already researching contractors that might be willing to work with a US Marine vet when it came to budget. He watched you take in the room, blinking slowly in the dim light, breathing quietly in the musty air. “It’s perfect, Billy.”

  He shrugged but allowed his cheek to twitch up towards his eye in a one sided grin. “It’s not. But it doesn’t haveta be. Just has to be big.”

  You dislodged your hand from his to explore the space some more, wandering between the support poles that ran from cracked floor to vaulted ceiling. Swinging around one of them, your hair fell like a curtain over your face and you pushed it back. “Well it’s definitely big. So check that off the list.” You came back towards him as he shoved his hands in his pockets. “What else?”

  “Well,” his eyes darted to the staircase, yours following until they came back to meet. “Up there is where the offices would be.” Tongue flicking out to lick his lips and teeth flashing behind them, he said, “Where my office would be.”

  Your grin turned mischievous. “Oh yeah?” He nodded. “Just up those stairs?” Another nod. “Well this I gotta see,” you said, taking off in the direction of the loft.

  “Hang on, wait,” he shot his arm out, catching you by the wrist and wrapping his fingers around it. “Lemme… I dunno if the stairs are…” you let him go ahead of you, testing his weight on the rickety staircase. Satisfied with their structural integrity, he looked back at you. “Okay, c’mon up.” He gave you his hand again and you took it, the familiar weight of it grounding him.

  The top floor boasted an exposed brick wall to the right and a huge half circle window high up near the ceiling to the left, long narrow windows running down beneath it. A series of smaller offices overlooking the first floor could be seen down a short hall. A few stray papers and paint cans were strewn about, and a pigeon cooed as it fluttered from rafter to rafter over your heads. You spun in a slow 360 degrees, directly in the center of the beam of light filtering in through the lead glass semi-circle. Maybe she’s right. Maybe it is perfect. “So what do you think?”

  “I think your desk should go right over there,” you pointed out a spot in the middle of the large brick wall. “You close this off,” you moved your arms to indicate the area around where his phantom desk stood. “Your secretary can sit-“ you looked over your shoulder at him, devilish grin climbing your lips to change the color of your eyes to a darker shade. “She’s not gonna like me, I can tell. But she can sit over there,” again you moved your arms to indicate where walls would be. “Outside your office. More privacy that way.” You’d come back to stand in front of him, slipping your arms beneath his and pressing yourself tightly against him.

  Billy looked down through his lashes at you as you reached up to fix a stray lock of his hair that had fallen in front of his eye, tucking it back in order before trailing your fingertips down the stubble on his face. “S’not what I-“

  “I know.” You gripped the back of his neck and flexed your fingers. “I know that’s not what you were asking. You wanna know what I think, Billy?”

  His hands came up to either side of your face then, eyes searching yours. “Yours is the only opinion that matters,” he said. “So yeah, I wanna know what you think.”

  You looked around the space again, hand dropping from behind him as his fell away from your cheeks. Finding what you were looking for, you smiled and took a few steps into the corner, bending down to pick up an aluminum can with a bright red plastic top. You shook it like a maraca, the liquid inside sloshing around to tell you that it wasn’t empty. Popping the top off, you walked over towards the area you’d cordoned off for his office, finger resting atop the depressor.

  “What are you…” his sentence fell apart as you stooped down and sprayed a big “x” on the ground, dropping the can and letting it clatter by your feet.

  “There,” you said, wiping your hands together and then brushing them off on your jeans. “X marks the spot, Billy. That’s what I think. I think now you have two things to come home to, lieutenant.”

  He shook his head and moved closer to you. “That’s not even… ‘course I’m coming home to you, that’s not-”

  “Yeah, you better.” You stood on the wet X, not caring about getting paint on your shoes. “But this? This place, this goal? I think there’s no way in Hell you don’t make this happen, Billy.”

  He reached for you then, pulling you off the X and into his body, wrapping you up as tightly as he could. “X marks the spot,” he said, lips covering yours, glad that this was how you’d ended up spending the rest of the day.

  ..  .. ..  .. .. ..  ..

  He stooped down to run his fingers over what was left of the red mark, the patterns from the soles of your shoes faintly visible in the splotchy paint. She should be here. She should be here and she’s not. Tears pooled in his eyes and spilled fat and heavy onto the floor as rage roiled in his blood. Frank did this. Frank and… and Madani. He stood then, shuffling back over to the folder in the couch. There’s gotta be… He knew needed to get their attention. Gotta be some way to flush ‘em out, to… 

He flipped through the file, the photos of the two of you from the park socking him hard. Military records, session notes, accomplishments, crimes, details from every aspect of his life typed out neatly in 12 point double spaced font. One name caught his eye as he turned the pages, one name that he’d only ever shared with three people in his adult life: Frank, Madani, and you. 

“So what do you have to do then, Billy? How do you make this happen?”

  Your voice filled his ears then, and he knew what he had to do to make Frank take notice.  

  Thoroughly exhausted from the events of the day, from the pieces he’d put into place and the staggering realizations he’d come to, Billy took the photo from the folder and fell into the broken couch. Outside, the sun had started setting, darkness slowly swallowing the world and ending the day. They took her from me. Slow, shaky breaths puffed through his nostrils as he crossed his arms over his chest, aching to hold you one more time. They took her from me and they’re gonna pay. 

  Though it felt like his anguish would keep him from sleep, his eyes slipped closed and he drifted off, holding your picture and repeating an address over and over, like counting sheep; an address he couldn’t believe he remembered after all these years. 

 They’re all gonna pay.

.

@something-tofightfor @its-my-little-dumpster-fire @suchatinyinfinity @gollyderek @lexxierave @songforhema @thesumofmychoices @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @lysawayne @roses-in-your-country-house @ymariejp @belladonnarey @audreychaz @songtoyou @stories-you-wont-hear @traeumerinwitzhelden @breanime @luminex3 @ificouldhelpyouforget @obscurilicious @jigsawlover10 @getlostinyourparadise @nananananananananananabatman

please let me know if you would like to be added or removed!  

[bellarkefanfiction]

#NoClickbait

written by: Josefine / @selflessbellamy

prompt: This is typical but maybe distracting kiss while playing a video game? Person A is competitive, 100% focused on winning and person B starts to plant kisses, all because of the competition, no one is in love here, it's a cold, calculating strategy. for anonymous 

word count: 2204

Sharing an apartment with a Youtuber has its pros and cons. For instance, her roommate has — on numerous occasions — demanded to film alone in the living room for hours, because “it has much better lighting.” At night, she often hears him groan loud in frustration while editing, which would be funny if she didn’t have to wake up early for class most mornings.

However, the pros outweigh the cons, at least as it is right now. They’ve been living together for almost a year now, and since she told him that she didn’t mind being a part of his videos every once in a while, he has involved her in his creative process. Unlike a lot of YouTube channels, Bellamy Blake’s offers a wide range of different content, such as:

cook with me: grilled chicken breast (with a twist)

vlog: a day at the bookstore + haul

history has left us: queer!Achilles (Pride Month special)

If his subscriber count of 3.2 million is anything to go by, this kind of content is great entertainment for everyone watching. Hell, Clarke even watches his videos despite the fact that she lives with him and could easily just sneak into the living room to watch him film. Still, she attempts to stay away, because Bellamy doesn’t tend to stare over her shoulder as she draws one of her pictures.

Sometimes, though, her thriving curiosity gets the better of her. When he first noticed her piqued interest, his dark eyes crinkled at the corners and he told her, “Princess, if you wanna know what I’m doing then you have to be a part of it.”

At first, Clarke had wondered whether having her show up in his videos was just gonna be a cheap clickbait trick, so that he could include her in the thumbnail and write a title called ‘vlog: Santa Monica with my girlfriend’, but he didn’t.

Instead, he turned the camera on her face as they were walking down the peer and said, “Oh, by the way guys. This is my roommate Clarke. She’s tagging along.”

He had probably expected her to not say anything, maybe give a shy little wave in response, because that’s what usually happens when people are camera shy. Clarke’s actual reaction was so far from that. In teasing, she stuck her tongue out at him and retorted, “Oh please, you’re the one who’s tagging along. I need someone to help me decide which Bath Bomb to get.”

That is the start of Clarke’s appearance in Bellamy’s videos, and since then she has only showed up more, for longer periods of time. A couple weeks ago she assisted him while he did the ‘Blindfolded Book Challenge’ by picking various classics and non-fiction works from his bookshelf.

After that video was posted, he told her not to look at the comments, which only made her suspicious, because he’d never advised her to stay away from the comment section of his videos before, and for a moment she thought that his viewers were perhaps making fun of her or something. Despite that the possibilities made her somewhat nervous, she couldn’t hold herself back.

The most popular comment jumped out at her:

[Top Comments - click to show]

Dani Larsson: y’all can’t tell us you’re not dating after this.

781+

Gulping, Clarke clicked on the replies and found the first couple ones to be:

Lydia Marcello: yea, just look at 13:52. That shoulder-lean is the least platonic thing I have seen in the modern era.

123+

Furrowing her brow, Clarke went to the timestamp to see what the girl was referring to — and there right before the end of the video as Bellamy said, “I guess that’s it for the Blindfolded Book Challenge. Thanks for watching!” — he pulled Clarke against his side, making her lean her head against his shoulder for a second, smiling.

After forcing her eyes off the frozen frame, Clarke looked at the comment below Lydia Marcello’s only to find:

 TJ Byrne: Well, if he’s not dating her, I would love to tap that.

2+

While the comment didn’t bother her much, it sure as hell seemed to have bothered Bellamy (and a lot of his loyal viewers), because he had actually responded:

Bellamy Blake: @TJ Byrne: Too bad. Sexist white Internet creeps aren’t her type.

201+

Clarke had to bite back the urge to laugh. Also, it was difficult to ignore the clear voice at the back of her head who kept telling her that men with bronze, freckled skin and lots of sharp edges is her type. Still, she has only ever seen one person who looks like that.

A person, whose laughter could light up the entire world, who places pencils behind his ear and hums while he cooks.

***

One late afternoon she returns, violet and vermillion paint caked beneath her fingernails, to the sight of Bellamy sitting cross-legged on the couch, his trusted laptop in front of him and square glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. As always, he looks up when she enters the living room.

“I’m gonna cook dinner. Chicken Alfredo pasta, does that sound good?”

He beams, most likely with as much surprise as amusement, because she’s rarely the one who prepares meals. Still, she wants to prove to him that she’s learned quite a lot from watching his culinary-themed videos.

“Very,” is his simple comment, though the lone word manages to convey his enthusiasm. When she turns to walk into the kitchen, he suddenly adds, “Hey, Clarke, would you mind being in a video later?”

The curiosity in her mind sparks like colorful fireworks. “What kind of video?” Given the complexity of Bellamy’s content, it’s impossible for her to have the faintest idea… Maybe it’s another challenge video? A casual vlog? One of his informative history sessions?

Then he explains that his viewers would love his nostalgia series to feature a gaming video. “I have Mario Kart for my old PlayStation, so… I thought it’d be more fun if we played it together. You know I love how competitive you are.”

That last bit seems to be coated in fondness, the words soft — a stark contrast to his usual teasing tone, and it has color rising to her cheeks, undoubtedly. In order to hide the blush, Clarke turns away, but not without saying, “Of course. That sounds fun,” over her shoulder.

To her joy, Bellamy eats two large portions of the Chicken Alfredo pasta and praises her for using vegetables and spices that complement the creamy sauce. Hearing him say this makes her heart feel warm.

Together, they do the dishes while listening to ‘Cigarette Daydreams’ from one of Bellamy’s vinyl records. Most of his collection he inherited from his dad, but he adds a newer record once in a while. Afterwards the struggle with setting up the lights in preparation for filming — since the sky has now darkened, they need to improve the lighting in the living room.

Before they can turn on the camera, they have to plan a quick intro. Of course, Bellamy will do the most of the talking, since it’s his channel, but he tells her that he doesn’t want her to hold anything back, especially not during the gameplay itself.

It feels like an eternity has passed. At last, Bellamy clicks record, takes a seat next to Clarke and says, “Welcome back guys! I looked at your requests and quickly had to realize that you all want to see me play a video game,” he runs his fingers through the back of his hair, “As you will probably find out, I suck at gaming. I’ve killed a Sim once, and it was not on purpose.”

Clarke mouths, “He has,” hoping that the teasing it will amuse some of his viewers.   

“Anyway, I dragged the Princess along for this one. She’s gonna crush me as Peach.”

Chuckling, she replies, “Oh, I sure am. No more of that ‘damsel in distress’ Peach. Those days are over, and you’re gonna go down.”

Even though they didn’t plan it for the intro, they look at each other, faces inches from one another to signify the “stand-off” that’s about to happen. However, within a couple seconds, they both crack up.

As it turns out, Bellamy is not actually bad at Mario Kart, which seems to surprise him way more than it does her. Within ten of playing minutes, he’s in 3rd place, but he makes the mistake of gloating, “Now, who’s gonna go down, Princess?”

Maybe they should stop using that expression…

Oh, well. “You still are,” Clarke laughs just as she uses the Starman that she’s had up her sleeve for a couple minutes, and while it does help her overtake a lot of players, she’s only gets to the fourth position, right behind him.

Bellamy does what he can to maintain his lead. Out of the corner of her eye, Clarke sees him lick his lips in concentration, and the sight damn near distracts her. Quickly, she collects herself, and while it’s difficult to keep up with him when she has to stay on the course, she’s tailing him.

When he bumps his shoulder against hers in teasing, moving his controller just to annoy her, an unfamiliar sensation sparks in her ribcage, causing her to lean closer and press her lips to his neck, right below his sharp jawline. At first she feels him freeze. Scared that she has overstepped an invisible boundary, she draws back, but he…

He is smiling. “You think you can distract me?”

“I can’t?” Turning her attention back to the television, Clarke smirks as her heart flips itself over and over.

Now she thinks she notices the faint pink tint in his freckled cheeks, but it might be her eyes playing a trick on her. With much confidence, Bellamy says, “You gotta keep trying…”

Right now, they’re doing the final lap around the course, still tailing each other, brushing each other like they are in real life. It seems as though he just gave her another challenge — one, which she is even more determined to win. Therefore, she giggles slightly, kisses his throat again, a little lower this time, then his shoulder and the back of his ear.

He releases a strange sound that must be somewhere between a groan and a chuckle. Unsuccessful, he tries to brush her off, but she can feel the heat that’s rising to his skin by the second.

Just when she leans in for the sixth kiss, he groans, tossing his controller to the side. She doesn’t recognize the emotion flashing in his earthy eyes, but she is not afraid of it. Bellamy murmurs intelligibly before giving her a gentle push to the floor — out of the camera frame — on her back, she watches his face move closer to hers than it ever has until she can almost sense the amazing warmth that pours from his features. Taking a slow breath, he nuzzles her, which has her entire chest feeling like jelly.

When their lips meet, it’s as if the living room is filled with light, though it must be nearing midnight. The happiness bubbles in her stomach, runs through her veins to mix with her bloodstream. Burying her fingers in the dark, soft curls of his hair, Clarke deepens the kiss a little, causing him to smile against her lips.

“I’m gonna have to edit this out.”

She laughs at that statement. “The video is useless now, Bellamy. We’ve both fallen off the course before the finish line.”

“Well, it was worth it.”

As opposed to sleeping that night, they sit on the bed in his room eating dry Coco Puffs while talking about where to go from there.

What they end up doing is reshooting the Mario Kart video the next day (Bellamy wins, much to her dismay), then spend the next eight months trying to hide their relationship from his online following, which is easy when she can simply not be present in his videos.

His viewers, however, are far from stupid. The first video that she appears in after the Mario Kart one is a casual writing vlog, where she brings him a cup of black coffee after his all-nighter. And it’s one tiny detail that Bellamy missed in editing that effectively exposes them:

[Top Comments - click to show]

Christine Hollinger: oh my god, he murmurs ‘thanks, babe’ at 8:46 asdjffikoxxkak… Y’ALL

863+

theo lewis: *platonically calls my roommate ‘babe’*

219+

After that, they have to come to terms with the fact that their secret is out, and because Bellamy doesn’t want to trick his followers, he decides to make the announcement (albeit casually) in his next video, which is a brief daily vlog. Bellamy turns the camera towards the balcony, on which she is standing, looking at the sinking sun.

“Isn’t she beautiful? I’m so lucky.”

No forced, half-assed video of them explaining how they got together, no cheesy girlfriend tag — just a simple yet revealing comment. Their relationship is not clickbait; it’s not something that he’s going to use to gain more followers. It’s too important for that.