#god the movies not even dropping it’s just the trailer and I’m almost bouncing off the walls someone should euthanize me-

[luninosity]

Catching up on @evanstanweek ficlets again! Here’s Day 3, prompt: on set.

Read at AO3 here - 2,336 words of on-set love confessions, set during The First Avenger - or read on tumblr below!

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Sebastian’s watching Chris. He often is, can’t seem to help the track of his gaze—can’t pull away from the magnet-tug that’s Chris Evans’ loud laugh and gesturing hands and philosopher’s eyes, and if he’s honest he doesn’t want to. Right now the low hazy grey lighting of the broken bar sits on Chris’s shoulders and turns him into a grieving supersoldier: a man hollowed out by loss, left with a gaping hole right through his chest.

 Chris is so good. So brilliant at emotion, at getting character. So thoughtful and so generous with his feelings, the kind of bravery that holds nothing back. He is Steve Rogers, through and through: a hero, shining blue and gold.

 Sebastian’s not that brave. Not that brilliant. Good at angst and pain, or dry humor, or intensity, maybe; but he’s in character for it. He does love people and stories, and he thinks he’s funny, sometimes, and he thinks he might want to be a writer, sometimes, and he can shove an entire pizza slice in his mouth when he’s comfortable around friends, but.

 It takes him a while. Exhaling. Stepping out. Speaking up. He wouldn’t say he’s shy, because he isn’t, not once he knows people. He’s just…not Chris Evans, who wears joys and vulnerabilities openly, with pride, unafraid.

 Sebastian looks at Chris, and aches with emotion, and says nothing, every day and every minute on this film so far.

 He’s technically done for the day, though he’s not at all done on this film; he’s spent the morning running around with Howling Commandos and being a young and terrified sergeant thrown into war. They’d filmed Bucky’s fall from the train the day before; Sebastian had honestly loved it. The emotion’d been easy: love and loyalty, throwing himself in to fight alongside the other half of his heart, the moment of sheer shock, a small but gloriously physical drop onto thick mats. They’d let him do that one, because it wasn’t a long fall and they needed to see his face. He hoped it’d been good; everyone seemed pleased, at least.

 He shifts weight, wishes he had a pillar or a wall to lean on. He watches Chris some more.

 They’d caught the stunned disbelief on Chris’s—Steve’s—face at the fall, yesterday. Chris is so incredible at nuance, at blazing emotions, even in a few-seconds-long shot. Sebastian had said, after, “That felt really good, that last take?” and had meant, I think you’re a genius, I think I want to work right next to you forever, I think I love you.

 Chris had gotten kind of pink-cheeked because Chris is too damn self-deprecating, and had said, “Oh—um, thanks, man, you too, I mean it felt good to me too, I mean we’re fuckin’ awesome, obviously,” and had nudged Sebastian’s shoulder, somewhere between a punch and a quick resting of a hand. “Craft services? They got blueberry bagels, someone said.”

 Chris, bagel-focused, clearly had not heard Sebastian’s internal monologue. And if he had, wouldn’t reciprocate.

 Which is fine, of course. Chris never needs to know, and Sebastian’s ridiculous emotions will calm the hell down and go away. Any day now. Sometime. Soon.

 But he’s watching Chris, and Chris is pretending to try to get drunk, pain visibly shredding him inside; Chris is Steve and Steve can’t believe it and has to believe it and wants to scream, to shout, to punch a hole through the world—

 The scene’s fantastic, of course.

 They get it in maybe three takes, rapid-fire, Chris laying out his heart for the watchers. His voice cracks; it’s getting rougher, the third time.

 They do it a couple times more for different close-ups. Sebastian takes a step closer, between takes. His boots—he’s changed; they’re his own boots—are louder than he’d recalled that morning; Chris looks over at the sound.

 And maybe Chris looks surprised, or relieved, or grateful, for a split second; maybe it’s all in Sebastian’s head, though, because the next second they’re right back into it, capturing Steve’s heartbreak.

 It’s a wrap for the scene, eventually. And Chris is done for a few hours too, though he’ll need to stick around; he’s got some close-ups to do inside a mock airplane, being bounced around, for what’ll be the big final self-sacrifice. Sebastian loves the heroism and pain of it; he’s always loved good writing, and he’s got a good feeling about this script and about this universe, which he’s a tiny part of now.

 Chris doesn’t get up right away. Just scrubs both hands over his face, shoulders slumped. Hayley Atwell’s gone off to talk to the director; Joe’s nodding, listening to her. Nobody’s checking on Chris.

 And that’s wrong, that’s wrong and not good and not right—Chris has just been hurting, the way that Chris hurts for the world, and Chris should never be hurting, not while Sebastian’s alive—

 Sebastian’s legs move before his brain makes a conscious decision. He’s picking his way across artistic rubble and taking a few running steps and putting a hand on Chris’s shoulder. “Hey.”

 Chris actually jumps a little, which isn’t the best start. “Oh! Uh, hey, hi, did you, um…have a question? About Steve and Bucky, or somethin’?” The Boston comes out extra-strong; it does that when Chris is feeling a lot, or tipsy, or simply exaggerating to make someone laugh.

 “No,” Sebastian says. “Or, well, yeah, we might want to talk about some of those flashback sequences, so we’re on the same page with emotion and all, but.” He licks his lips, realizes he’s doing it—a nervous habit, one he’s had for years—and stops. He can taste chapstick on his tongue. “I just. Wanted to. I don’t know. Are you…I mean, that looked like a lot.”

 “You…” Chris trails off. He’s looking at Sebastian’s face with astonishing intent; Sebastian would say even desperation, but that’d be ludicrous. Chris doesn’t have any reason to feel desperate about him.

 He tries, “I know you, um, like tea? Not coffee? We could go grab, um, tea. If you want.”

 “Tea,” Chris says, a little blankly. “But you like coffee.”

 Sebastian’s starting to get kind of worried, here. “I do, but you gave it up? We could maybe head back to your trailer, and you can, um, relax for a minute, and I can…try to make tea?”

 Chris stares at him some more.

 “Or not,” Sebastian throws in helplessly.

 “Yes,” Chris says. “Yes, yeah, yes—you—fuck. Okay. Jesus, Chris, get it together,” and he even shakes his head like a puppy flinging off water, and Sebastian kind of wants to grin and also scratch his tummy.

 Well. Maybe not scratch. He can think of better things to do with Chris’s stomach. Mostly involving his tongue.

 And he should absolutely not be thinking of that when Chris needs his help. He sticks out a hand. “To the end of the line? Or at least your trailer.”

 Chris looks at the hand, and then takes it, hauling himself up out of the chair. His fingers are large and strong and a little cold, and they squeeze Sebastian’s for just a little too long, as if wanting to hold on.

 No. Must be Sebastian’s heart thinking that. Wanting what he can’t have.

 He walks with Chris through behind-the-scenes set-ups and teardowns, props and people rushing to and fro, the corners of trailers and the shouts of movie-making going on. The sun’s warm, if light; the ground’s hard beneath his boots. He keeps stealing glances at Chris, who doesn’t seem too talkative. Sebastian’s poor overworked heart wants to take each sensation, each sight and taste and scent of this backstage moment, and fold them up safe deep inside.

 Chris is letting him help. That feels like sunshine.

 Chris’s trailer’s simple, unpretentious, unfussy; script copies and notes lie scattered around, and he’s got some weights, and some Disney-movie DVDs. Sebastian smiles, because that’s so very Chris: delight in the magic, always.

 Chris, still in costume, sits down on his sofa. He breathes out, and looks up. “Thanks.”

 “For what? How do I make tea with this?” He’s poking Chris’s electric kettle. He does sort of know how it works, in theory. His mother has an old-fashioned kettle; he’s got fancy coffee-making machinery; he should be able to combine all this knowledge. “Where is your tea?”

 “Seb,” Chris says. “I—hang on, does anyone actually call you Seb?”

 “Um. Not really? You can. I don’t mind.” He doesn’t. Chris uses last names often, an affectionate Boston-bro shorthand for friendship; Sebastian’s somehow always been Sebastian or Seb, in Chris’s voice. He’s wondered why, though he’s thought maybe Chris just doesn’t feel that close to him. Not deserving of the bro-status.

 “You don’t mind, or you don’t like it, and you’re being nice about it?”

 “I don’t mind,” Sebastian says, too quickly. “I like it.”

 “Sebastian,” Chris says.

 “Really,” Sebastian says. “Either. Whatever.”

 “Jesus,” Chris says, face back in his hands. “I’m sorry. I just…just tell me if I’m sayin’ something stupid, okay? Please.”

 “But you’re not!” Sebastian comes back over to the couch. That damn magnet again. Tugging his bones. “You’re not, it’s fine, we’re good, Chris. I swear. Really.”

 Chris doesn’t look up, so Sebastian drops to both knees, right there at Chris’s feet, and tries not to think of all the times he’s wanted to do exactly that. It’s easier not to think of it, right now, because he’s genuinely concerned.

 He peeks up at Chris’s face. “Hey. Kinda worried here. Not about you, I mean, about your kettle, it’s got all these buttons, it’s like a rocket ship, I’m afraid if I touch the wrong thing it’ll explode.”

 Chris snorts, almost a laugh, and then does look up. His eyes go right to Sebastian’s, so close and so blue; and then all at once he’s moving, leaning forward, one hand reaching out and cradling Sebastian’s head, and then—

 They’re kissing. Oh, god, they’re kissing, Sebastian on his knees in front of Chris and Chris bending down to claim him, hand in Sebastian’s hair—

 Chris kisses like reprieve, like the release of storms, like the dive into a heated pool on a chilly day: wholehearted, devoted, anxious to lick and taste and plunge into every part of Sebastian’s mouth. Sebastian, who’s been kissed before, has in fact never been kissed before, because no other kiss has ever been a kiss, compared to this.

 His knees dimly register the hardness of the trailer floor, and his neck’s at kind of an awkward angle, and Chris is still mostly in the Captain America suit. None of that matters. Nothing else matters at all, because Chris wants him and Sebastian’s whole self yearns for Chris, and Chris’s tongue and taste and tug at Sebastian’s hair are all white-hot gloriously perfect.

 Chris pulls back almost as abruptly. They’re both breathless; Chris whispers, “Oh, fuck…” and takes his hand out of Sebastian’s hair, but then touches Sebastian’s cheek, cups his face, as if unable to stop touching. “I…fuck…I didn’t…I’m so fucking sorry, I just…”

 “Why?”

 “What?”

 “Why’re you sorry?” Sebastian tips his head into Chris’s hand. “I’m not.”

 “You’re…not.”

 “Chris,” Sebastian says, and then runs out of words. He hopes Chris can see it, can read it, in his eyes. On his face. “Yes.”

 “Yeah?” Chris reaches out with the other hand too: framing Sebastian’s face now, tender and awestruck. “You mean that.”

 “I mean it,” Sebastian says. “But—”

 “Oh god,” Chris says, “I’ve fucked this up, haven’t I—”

 “No! No, just…are you okay? I mean, from earlier.” Somewhere amid the kissing his hands’ve ended up on Chris’s thighs; apparently they just want to be there, and now rub along Chris’s legs, soothing and caressing and learning all at once. “I mean, I wanted to—”

 “To help,” Chris groans. “You came over to help—because you’re the sweetest fucking person I know, god, you’re perfect, Seb, the nicest and the warmest and the best—and I fucking, Jesus, practically mauled you—”

 Sebastian cuts that anguished recrimination off by diving forward and getting his mouth back on Chris’s. After some in-depth affirmation, he breathes against Chris’s lips, “Don’t think you’re doing any mauling I don’t like.”

 Chris’s eyebrows go up.

 “Really,” Sebastian tells him.

 “Huh,” Chris says. “Huh. Okay. You—okay.”

 “No,” Sebastian says patiently. “Are you okay?”

 Chris stares at him, and then bursts out laughing. Mid-laughter, scoops Sebastian off the floor. Flops them both down across the sofa, holding on. “God, you’re incredible.”

 “The best, you said.”

 “And I mean it. You just make it all…feel better, kind of?” Chris strokes a hand down Sebastian’s back, over his t-shirt. “That’s what it was, earlier. Like…being Steve, losing Bucky, but that’s you, and all at once I was thinking about losing you, and I just felt like…like someone’d dropped me off a train, y’know? Like I’d never get up again.”

 “I’m here.” Sebastian wriggles against him. They fit together: bodies pressed close, every piece of them learning each other. He’s half atop Chris, but with one of Chris’s legs tangled through his. “I’m here.”

 “I know.” Chris rubs his back again. “And you were there, too. You were right there and I could look up and find you, and it was like I could remember how to breathe. And then you were here, asking about tea and looking at me like—and I just had to kiss you. I want to kiss you. Seb. Sebastian. God, I fuckin’ want—everything. I know it might get complicated, I know we’re in the middle of making a movie, but I can’t not want everything. Together. With you.”

 “Well,” Sebastian says, “good to know,” and stretches to kiss Chris again. It’s that simple, if not easy: the future’ll change, but it does that anyway, sprawling out in all sorts of directions. And he thinks it’ll be a good direction, with Chris at his side. “Because I want everything with you too.”

[lovelylogans]

honey, you’re familiar (like my mirror)

see other chapters, warnings, and notes here!

chapter three: psycellic consentia

psycellic consentia: psycellium (or psycelium) is a psychic nervous system that allows sensates to connect with one another. sensates have a solitary "above" existence, and are connected "below" via the psycelium. consentia, latin: knowledge shared with others, being in the know or privy to, joint knowledge; complicity; knowledge within oneself, consciousness, feeling.

ROMAN

It hasn’t even been five minutes since Sasha left to grab dinner, but Roman’s already feeling strangely jittery.

A nap would be a fruitless venture, he’s realized, so he’s gotten up to pace around the room, reciting the lines of the scene he’s meant to be filming tomorrow. He knows them all by heart, naturally, but it’ll be an odd scene to shoot anyways. His character, Pablo, would be escaping from the grasp of his friend-turned-betrayer (who would turn out to have been bluffing and truly Pablo’s friend all along by the end of the movie) by sprinting through the forest, making his getaway by leaping into a river and swimming away.

This stunt he doesn’t get to do; he’s already technically filmed the scenes when he’s in the water, and a stunt double will be “jumping off the cliff.” So tomorrow is going to be entirely on-location, acting then sprinting through the forest.

So Roman chants his lines to himself, pacing in his room with his eyes closed, trying his hardest to sink into Pablo’s mindset. And, after a few minutes of running his lines over in his head, it’s like he’s actually walking in the forest; the snap of a twig under his feet, the smell of leaves and dirt, the cooing of various birds.

Roman’s jaw drops, because—because no way. No way.

No fucking way is his brother standing there, with a bundle of twigs tucked up under his arms, staring at Roman the way a kid would stare at a particularly adventurous snail journeying along the ground.

Well, the way Remus would look at an adventurous snail, as a kid. Roman would have probably just fled the snail in favor of playing with wooden swords and rescuing imaginary damsels.

"Aw, c’mon, man, what the fuck," Remus grumbles, looking skyward as if asking for some kind of divine intervention, though Roman knows that's never been the case, much to their chronically Catholic abuela’s dismay.

She probably would have been pleased if Roman tacked on a God rest her soul there, but considering her abysmal reaction when her grandson decided to be an actor and an even worse reaction when her other grandson informed them all that he was, in fact, a grandson, he's never really wanted to please her anyway.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Remus says tightly, dropping his bundle of twigs. 

Remus. Remus is here. Or Roman is there? Whatever, it doesn’t matter, there he is. That’s Roman’s brother.

“What, are you trying to lure me in for the police to catch me? Because it’s not going to fucking work, Roman.” 

God, he’s alive, he doesn’t look hurt, he’s—well, actually, Roman has no idea if he’s safe or not. He just kind of looks like he’s dirty, with scraggly hair and smudges on his face. This alone isn’t entirely unusual for Remus, but the amount of it is. But—he’s here. He’s alive. He has some form of shelter, he’s probably been eating, he’s okay—

“Or are you just here to—”

Roman staggers forward and flings his arms around Remus’ neck, hugging him as tight as he can, almost as if he can feel what Remus feels, the arms wrapping around his neck and the arms wrapping around his torso in kind, feeling echoes of what he does, and what Remus does, bouncing between like a seismic shock.

Across the world, Janus smiles in his sleep; Emile wiggles happily in his chair while waiting for his next therapy session; Patton grins at a wall about nothing in particular; Logan touches his own shoulders, blinking rapidly in surprise at the weight of phantom arms holding him close.

REMY

Remy is used to experiencing emotions that aren’t his.

When he feels a near-violent joy sprouting up in his chest, he pauses briefly in pouring a customer a cup of coffee to put a hand on his chest and smile to himself.

He’ll ask Emile what’s got him so happy later. He’s just happy that Emile is happy.

REMUS

Remus blinks at Roman after Roman pulls back from the hug, hands on his shoulders, still beaming at him.

“—For a while I thought that you were coming to stay at my apartment with me, but then you never showed, and I was worried sick wondering where you were all this time. I’ve been reading all about the case—oh, that doesn’t matter now, we’re together! Now you can come here to the city, and I can post your bail so you can stay with me, and I can get you a really good lawyer, and—!”

“You’ve been reading about the case?” Remus says, his voice sounding strange even to his own ears.

Roman blinks at him. “Yeah?” There’s an unspoken duh in his tone.

“So you know that I’m the main suspect,” Remus prompts.

“Yeah…”

“So, you,” Remus says, “acting sweetheart of the nation with your dear fake girlfriend—you want to bring in a dirty gremlin accused of murder? The sibling the whole country doesn’t even know you have?” 

Roman looks suddenly anxious, as if expecting Remus to blow up and yell at him.

“Do you even think I’m innocent?” Remus continues, only faking his bluster a little.

“I mean,” Roman says. “It doesn’t really matter to me.”

“Does what matter?” Remus says. The bluster is much more faked this time.

“I mean, you’re my brother,” Roman says. “I don’t really care if you killed him or not.” 

Remus bursts out laughing.

Roman gawks at him, caught off guard, and Remus doesn’t know if it’s just from seeing Roman again, or the fact that he’s been on the run for over a week now and has only been eating the plants a hallucination taught him about, or what, but the expression on his face is just too good.

Roman! Who regularly gets caught in the tabloids! Getting a snapshot of him escorting a man wanted for murder into his warm, loving home! The mental image of the shocked expression on any pap’s face is just—oh, it would be so perfect.

“And your ‘girlfriend?’” Remus says, using air quotes. “Does she know about me?”

“No, but,” Roman says, still with that stupidly heroic, determined look on his face. “I’ll tell her. I’ll tell her tonight, even. She’ll understand.”

Right. If anyone else was as much of a media darling, it was Roman’s fake girlfriend, with her big, brown, innocent eyes and absolute inability to seem like she’s used to being famous.

“Oh, that’s too good,” Remus chortles. “Yeah, Roman. Okay. Sure. You go ahead and tell her.”

“I’m gonna!”

“Sure, fine,” Remus says, waving him off. “Make arrangements to bring your murderous brother home. I’ll catch a bus or something, I’m sure no cop is gonna see me and arrest me on the way to your apartment.” 

“I will,” Roman says, firm and resolute, and Remus just shakes his head, grinning still.

Of the pair of them, people seemed to think Remus was the crazy one when it was clear that Roman was absolutely bonkers. But at least he’d grown a pretty good sense of humor since Remus had been accused of killing someone.

JANUS

“Fucking finally, Jazza.”

Janus considers getting up and walking right back out, but unfortunately, his stomach is already set on fish and chips with the made-in-house sauce here. He wearily begins to weigh the costs of putting up with Key and the nickname “Jazza” against the benefits of sriracha aioli. 

And money. The money ends up winning out every time.

Three more jobs, Janus tells himself. Just three more jobs, and then you don’t have to put up with the risk anymore. Two, if one of them has a bigger compensation than average, and for the quality of my work...

It’s a lie, of course. Janus has been telling himself three more jobs ever since he clawed his way onto the bar standards board, years ago.

“What’s been going on with you, anyway?” Key says around a mouthful of chips, which garbles his speech beyond recognition. Unfortunately, Janus has known Key long enough that he can translate it with ease.

“Chew with your mouth closed and clean up your face,” Janus says, unable to stop himself. Habits are difficult to kill, Janus supposes.

Key rolls his eyes but obligingly blots at his face with a napkin. “D’you got it?”

Janus offers a small box wrapped like a present in answer. Inside is a hard drive containing the information their client had requested.

Key takes it, grinning, and stuffs it into his hoodie pocket.

“Be careful with that,” Janus scolds.

“You say that every time,” Key says. “Have I ever lost one of your—”

Janus glares at him.

“—one of the fruits of your labor?” Key says, quickly back-pedaling, realizing they’re in a public setting and a waitress is fast approaching with Janus's order.

“This smells amazing.”

Janus tries his best not to startle, but even with two days to process what the man in his mirror had told him, it’s still bizarre.

The actor beside him looks briefly embarrassed as if he hadn’t meant to say that aloud. Janus glances over at him—a member of his cluster, what an unappealing word—and sees a glimpse of a cramped little trailer. On a movie set, probably? He’s wearing leather pants and a leopard-print shirt that Janus has the feeling he’d never wear in real life.

Janus also feels the grumbling in Roman’s stomach. Janus sighs to himself.

“And another basket of chips with extras of that same sauce, please.”

“You got it, lovey,” she says, turning to go.

“Extra hungry, then?” Key says.

“Something like that,” Janus says neutrally. Without asking for Janus's permission—maybe knowing Janus was about to offer anyway—Roman reaches out and gulps deeply from Janus's Ribena.

“How’s,” Janus says, briefly casts about in his mind for the name of the latest love of Key’s life, and lands on, “Francesca?”

Key snorts. “Ancient history, mate.”

Not exactly surprising. Key’s always fancied himself a romantic, but he’s never been able to follow through on his commitment to anything ever.

“M’goin’ on a date with a bird tonight, though,” he says around a mouthful of chips.

“For God’s sake, Key, could you at least pretend you weren’t raised in a barn?” Janus snips at him, even as he’s dunking his own chips into the aioli.

Key grins at him, and Janus wrinkles his nose. He can tell Roman is doing the same beside him. They share the same sentiment at the moment, but it’s Roman’s “that’s disgusting” that falls out of his mouth.

He realizes why Key’s brow furrows a moment too late.

“Uh, bless you?” Key says; the closest he’s ever been to the Mexican vernacular of Spanish is ordering a fajita at a local Tex-Mex restaurant.

“Oops,” Roman says, not particularly apologetically. He grabs another handful of chips.

“I’m studying in my spare time,” he says and fixes Key with a look. “A hobby you could choose to emulate.”

“What’d I need more school for?” He scoffs. “Ten years was well enough.”

“To aspire for more for yourself—”

“Oh, here we go,” Key snaps, tossing down the piece of battered cod he was about to eat, splattering sauce on the wood table. “I am so sick of your “high and mighty” act.”

He mimics Janus's accent at high and mighty; Janus grits his teeth, and very purposefully enunciates his next few sentences.

“This cannot last forever, you understand.”

“No, just so long as you get rich off it, eh?”

“Um,” Roman says. “I’d offer to go and leave you two to duke this one out in private, but I’m not really sure how to stop this weird astral projection thing—”

Janus ignores him.

“Oh, as if being a lawyer doesn’t pay enough. Put your brain to some use and think, why is it that I keep helping you?!” Janus snaps, leaning across the table and softening his voice. “Why on earth do you think I continue with this?!”

“Spare me,” Key scoffs. 

“The only reason I keep doing this is because you keep doing this,” Janus hisses. “The only reason I became a lawyer was because of you getting us into trouble.”

“Don’t—” Key says, his face twisting up.

“It is because of me we are not rotting in jail, Quirinus. I’m sure it’s such a burden I want more for you.”

“It’s Key,” he grumbles before he rolls his eyes at Janus and tilts his baseball cap at him in farewell. “And since you have aspired to more for yourself, and since being a big fancy lawyer does pay so much, and since you saved me,” this is said with heavy sarcasm, “you fucking prat, you can get the bill. Much obliged, big brother.”

As he walks off, he tosses a “wanker” over his shoulder for good measure, jamming his orange cap onto his head.

Janus pinches the bridge of his nose, exhaling sharply.

There’s a pause. 

Then: the slurping of someone draining his Ribena.

Janus opens his eyes and turns his head to Roman, who’s chasing the last drops of Ribena about the glass with a straw.

“So, he’s probably not finishing that, right?” Roman says. Without waiting for an answer, he grabs a handful of chips and shoves them into his mouth. “‘Cause I’ve been waiting for Sasha to come back with dinner for like an hour now and I’m starving,” he says loudly while chewing.

Janus's jaw is slightly unhinged.

“You are a pestilence upon my life,” he says at last.

Roman smirks at him, mercifully close-mouthed, and swallows down the food that Janus supposes he’ll be paying for. Janus is certain that Roman is doing this to annoy him.

“Wait ‘till you have to deal with my brother.” He dunks the cod into the sauce. “Also, how much do you know about what’s going on here, anyway? Why do random people keep popping into my life?” 

Janus lowers his voice so they aren’t heard by any random passerby.

“Allegedly, we are known as sensates. I assume you’ve been seeing other people—we’re stuck seeing them psychically for the rest of our lives, as well as sharing specific skills, languages, emotions…”

Roman reaches for Key’s Ribena and drains that too.

“Tastes,” Janus adds pointedly. “That the other is paying for.”

“Yeah, exactly, you’re paying for it,” Roman says, and grabs another piece of cod. “It won’t go to waste now.”

“You won’t even get the nutritional benefits of eating food,” Janus says. “You’ll just get the taste of it.”

“Still, you’re getting your money’s worth. I’m helping.”

“Aren’t you rich?” Janus says. “Being an actor and all.”

“Aren’t you?” Roman counters. “Being a lawyer and all.”

Roman jams the cod into the ramekin of sauce.

“Either way, this place sure won’t take pesos, and it’s not like I can psychically transfer you money. Hey, how much do you know about Mexican law, anyways?” He takes a massive bite.

Janus puts his face into his hands for a few moments, before he reaches into his messenger pad and pulls out a legal pad and pen.

“Enough,” he says grudgingly—truthfully, not quite as much as English law. However, with this whole connection thing, they do share knowledge, so he certainly knows more now than he did before. He gestures at the waitress for another couple of Ribenas. “Why don’t you refresh me on the details of your brother’s case?”

PATTON

Patton frowns, tapping his pen against his chin as his kindergartners are all sprawled out on their mats for their post-lunch nap. He usually takes advantage of this time to catch up on marking (normally, just putting “good job!” stickers on their papers, they’re five) but right now he’s staring at something he’d written down out of the blue and trying to understand it.

He knows that he’s technically a sensate now, but does that mean his kindergartners are going to have to put up with scrawlings about Mexican flora when Patton had meant to be writing down the activities of the day?

“Aw, jeez,” someone grumbles, and Patton turns to look over his shoulder.

He grins sheepishly at the sight of an academic article plastered over with shiny star stickers. “Oops.”

The man is familiar and yet not; Patton doesn’t think he’s seen this one outside of briefly popping in and out. 

The man sighs, turning the paper over and then looking back at Patton.

“At least they’re purple,” he grumbles, and within a heartbeat, he’s gone. Patton returns his attention to his marking.

Oh, yay, he did end up putting stickers on the kiddos’ papers!

LOGAN

Not many people were particularly aware of this, especially considering the average population was generally unaware of the space research in Antarctica, but the cafeterias here are actually excellent.

In the history of Antarctic explorers and researchers, it had gone quite differently—Ernest Shackleton and Tom Crean ate seal, dog meat, and biscuits mixed with melted snow during the Trans-Antarctic Expedition of 1914—but chefs now seem to view it as an intriguing challenge, a way to sharpen their skills. 

Logan is an adequate enough cook, to the point where he can feed himself at home, but the food here is on another level. He’s finishing off his dessert, a lovely chocolate tart when a chef sits across from him at the dinner table, the same one that had served him his tray tonight.

He doesn’t know her well, so he hopes he’s disguised her squint at her nametag under the guise of adjusting his glasses.

“Very well done, Dot,” he says, lifting his fork to his mouth.

“Oh, good, you are one of us,” she says, with a level of relief that seems odd for hearing a compliment about her cooking. “I was wondering, Casimire gave me the oddest look when I told him to head off early so I could make eye contact with you.”

“What are you—?” Logan says, eyes narrowed, before his eyes flash to the kitchen, automatically looking for Casimire, the chef he’s most used to seeing.

True enough, Casimire isn’t there.

But Dot is here.

Dot is here twice.

Dot is sitting at the table with him. But Dot is smiling and chatting with one of the marine biology research team members, ten feet away. But—

“Oh, I can hear that brain working,” Dot says. She reaches out to pat his hand; it feels as warm and real as a hand can feel.

“What is this,” Logan forces through numb lips, appetite gone, chocolate tart entirely forgotten. “What are you—what is happening—?”

“Shh, shh, not too loud,” Dot says in a hushed voice. “To everyone else, it looks like you’re sitting alone. Here—you’ve got your bag with you, did you pack your earpiece?”

Logan nods.

“Put that in.”

He does as she says. What else is there to do?

The Dot in the kitchen turns to wink and smile at him reassuringly. He isn’t sure how to tell the Dot before him that there is absolutely nothing in this situation that could comfort him, and pointing out that there are two of her and that he is seeing things is not a particularly good way to go about it regardless.

He fumbles with the earpiece a few times, but he puts it in and clicks it on.

“There,” she says in satisfaction. “Now it’ll look like you’re talking over Bluetooth. Neat little trick, isn’t it? Keeps us from looking,” and she circles her ear with her finger and gives a two-note whistle, the universal sign for off your rocker. “I’m surprised your parent hasn’t taught you yet, but I suppose you are very new. Has your migraine stopped yet?”

Logan gawks at her. “How did you know I have a—?”

“Because I had one too when it all started,” she says. “All of us do. Let me tell you, I really wasn’t expecting to see a sensate down here, but I guess when you come to a place like this nothing should surprise you, right? That’s what my Larry said. But this’ll be handy, he was hoping I could meet a nice scientist to connect to the Archipelago! You’re an astronomer, right? That’s a very brainy subject.”

“Wait, go back,” Logan says. “How did you know I have a migraine? Why are you talking about my mother? Why should she have taught me about using Bluetooth? What does a group of islands have to do with anything, and what’s a sensate?”

The smile on Dot’s face slips.

“Oh dear,” she says. “Oh dear, you don’t know anything at all, do you?”

Logan gives her an offended look before he can really stop himself.

“Well,” Dot says thoughtfully. “A scientist. I bet you’d be really interested in the opportunity to send a question around the world within seconds, wouldn’t you?”

“Google exists,” Logan points out.

Dot smiles at him. “Where do you think they got the idea? Sapiens invented it in the 1990s; we’ve had it since the Neolithic.”

Against his better judgment to stop listening to what is most likely to be a hallucination, Logan finds himself very intrigued.

VIRGIL

Virgil is elbow-deep in papers about abrus precatorius, sorting them into piles for useful information or irrelevant when there’s the sound of someone hitting their knees beside him.

Virgil jumps, startled, and looks into the stunning blue eyes of Logan, the handsome Pole in Antarctica. His eyes are bright, eager, excited, and there’s a wide smile on his face.

“We’re not hallucinating,” he declares and spreads out an armful of his own notes; hastily taken, from the look of it, and he presses his fingers against an earpiece that’s blinking blue light. “Oh, and get one of these, by the way, technology has apparently made things much better for us, Dot said we’d get burned during the witch trials because we’d be talking to people who weren’t there and knowing things we shouldn’t know, but I think that’s an exaggeration. I wish there was a more central written history, but I suppose we’ve evolved in a way that word-of-mouth knowledge is the most efficient, haven’t we?”

There’s a lot of thoughts whirling around Virgil’s head—what do you mean, how do you know, why are we talking about witch burnings and evolution—but what comes out, a bit stupidly, is “You look good.”

Logan’s rambling stops in his tracks as he stares at Virgil, bemused, mouth slightly ajar.

“Um, I mean,” Virgil says. He coughs. “You look… less worried than last time. Which is. Good!” 

Logan keeps staring. With his lips parted like that, it’s all too easy to see that Logan must have licked them, recently; the sheen of it catches Virgil’s eye. He stares at Logan’s mouth. He stares at Logan.

Stop it stop it stop it he’ll think you’re weird, something in his brain shrieks, and that breaks the spell.

“So, uh, you’ve figured out what’s happening to us?” Virgil prompts.

Logan shakes himself, before he spreads out his papers, picking up one in particular. Virgil takes it, examining it; it’s two sketches of a brain. He’s familiar enough with biology by virtue of having doctors for parents to know that the sketch on the right side of the paper is not right. 

There’s something wrong with this brain.

“This,” Logan says, tapping the leftmost brain with his finger, “is the typical human brain.”

“Right, yeah,” Virgil says, frowning, and points to the rightmost brain. Their hands almost touch. “There’s something wrong with this one—something about the hemispheres, I think? It’s like there’s a growth.”

Logan moves to point to the rightmost brain, and this time, their hands do brush. But, before Virgil can think anything about it other than his hands are soft and he feels a little cold—

“This is what our brains are becoming.”

Virgil immediately panics.

“But it’s okay!” Logan says quickly as if he’s able to tell. Maybe he can—Virgil isn’t sure how clear it reads on his face. Or maybe, the way he’s been laughing at nothing or frowning at thin air, Logan can feel it. “It’s okay, it’s totally natural for us. For homo sapiens, no, but for homo sensorium—”

“Homo sensorium?” Virgil repeats, brow furrowed.

“It’s what we are,” Logan says. “Scientific name homo sensorium, colloquial name sensate.”

Sensate. Virgil hears the word, and something slips in place in his mind—it’s as if he’s heard that term before. It feels like breathing in a whiff of air and catching the scent of a sweet that sends your memory careening back to a time when you were seven and elbow-deep in dough with your grandmother. But it’s like he can’t quite fully grasp the memory. Something niggles just at the edge of it. It’s like his brain is trapped on the grandparent metaphor because he cannot stop thinking about his mother’s mother.

He sets the memory aside, for now; he’ll have time to think of it later.

Because, as Logan explains everything he’s learned so far, Virgil has absolutely zero chance of thinking about anything else. 

They spend most of the night talking about it. Even with all the bizarre aspects of what this new information brings, it’s easy to talk to Logan in a way that isn’t typical of Virgil speaking with other people. Virgil isn’t sure if that’s because they share this psychic connection, or if they’re both doctors, or if it’s some other connection.

“The way it was phrased is that we’re different types of human, but I don’t think we’re so different that it sets us apart from other people. From what I understand, the growth of our population is primarily due to epigenetic factors…”

Okay, so, primarily due to how behaviors and environments affect his genes. But what epigenetic factor triggered this in Virgil? Was this a dormant thing that could be triggered by ingesting some sort of chemical, or was it due to the way Virgil behaved? Had he done something in his life to cause all of this?

“A lot of the science is conjecture,” Logan warns, “and there was apparently some big corporation intent on doing medical experimentation on us ten or so years ago, but that’s mostly handled, you just have to be more careful about making eye contact with strangers in public…”

Oh, great, scientists hunted them down for medical experimentation so now he had to closely guard himself in any hospital! What a thrilling thing to hear for the son of two doctors!

“I’ve gathered that we can “share” certain skills or memories and that these things will become easier with practice. That’s why I could speak Xhosa and you Polish when we first met, it was the skill-sharing attribute, which could certainly come in handy for several reasons, but I also understand that we can visit each other at various times. There’s apparently a medicine you can take to block it, but it’s rather rare to come by, so unless you know a pharmacist willing to do some work under the table…”

That would almost definitely come to bite one of them in the ass at some point. What about privacy? Was he just doomed to have people from all over the world pop in on him while he’s in the shower or something?

“Dot said that she met her husband Larry through the connection, which drove off into a whole side-tangent. Apparently, romantic partners in clusters—that’s the widely accepted term, ‘cluster.’” 

Virgil pulls a face.

“I know, they could have picked literally any other more appealing word for it, couldn’t they? Bunch, group, flock, clique, assemblance—Anyways, romantic partnerships within clusters are somewhat common, and most of the sensate community finds it quite normal. I think our parent is in one, or at least that’s what Dot said.”

Logan clears his throat and adjusts his glasses. “Apparently some of the old-fashioned sensates think it’s like—what was it Dot’s parent said?—”the worst sort of narcissism.” Apparently, her parent was very displeased to be a parent and wanted nothing to do with creating bonds. I personally think that’s a rather backwards—humanity survives and thrives due to its ability to create bonds and care for each other—but I suppose I tend to think that way about a lot of old-fashioned things.”

“I guess I do, too,” Virgil muses aloud.

They sit quietly, for a while, so quietly that Virgil doesn’t notice when Logan slips away; the only thing that does bring him back from his swirling thoughts is when a voice breaks Virgil’s silence. It sends the emotions of knowing what’s happening to him shattering to the ground.

“Who on earth are you talking to?”

[tefanfics]

Changes

Chapter 18

My nerves were tearing me apart. I sat in the corner of the sofa in Matthew Vaughn’s trailer and Taron sat on the other side. Matthew was standing in front of us, pacing back and forth. His hands rested on his hips and look of frustration was strong on his face.

“So neither of you have any clue what this photo is about?” Matthew asked as he gestured to hi s laptop sitting on the counter near us.

I waited to see if Taron would say anything. He stayed quiet so I spoke up. “I mean, obviously it’s the two of us,” I started. “We ran into each other at the park. He asked if I wanted to join so I did.”

Matthew stared me down. I hoped to god he didn’t know I was lying. “And the hand holding?”

“I about lost my balance,” Taron chimed in. “Just bumped into her.”

Matthew’s gaze went between Taron and I. “So there’s nothing to worry about here?” He asked,

“Nope. Just friends.” I paused with a shrug. “Truthfully more like acquaintances. This is like what, the third time we’ve actually talked?” I asked Taron as I looked to him before turning my attention back to Matthew. “Any other questions? Or can I go get the cast ready for this scene?”

“Yeah, yeah. Go ahead, Rose. Thanks for your time,” Matthew said as he waved me off. He offered a smile as I stood up and left the trailer.

My heart was racing as I stood outside. I tried to catch my breath before I started walking. I glanced over my shoulder at the trailer, trying to see if Taron would appear. When I didn’t see him, I kept walking. I hurried to the location of the current scene, grabbing my copy of the script and going over things with the cast.

All day I buried myself in the script and anything I was thrown. I tried to keep from focusing on Taron when I could. I could feel his gaze on me, pressing into me the longer I kept myself away from him. Maybe Matthew had been right to be suspicious. Maybe our little escapades to steal kisses weren’t so secret after all. I shook myself out of my thoughts and carried on with the rest of the day.

When they finally wrapped filming for the day, I gathered my things and bid everyone before I began my walk home. The set wasn’t horribly far from my apartment and sometimes the walk home was nice to free my mind.

I put headphones in and grabbed my phone, starting the playlist I had been adding to since Taron and I had started talking. I checked for messages and saw one from the man himself.

See you in a little bit.

I didn’t bother sending a message. I figured by time I had walked home, Taron’s ride would have already dropped him off at my apartment. So instead I let myself get lost in the music as my legs carried me home.

Sure enough when I arrived at the apartment complex, a black car with tinted windows waited by the curb. I got up the steps to the building and opened the door as the car door opened. I heard footsteps on the concrete steps. I didn’t look at him as I made my way to the steps and began to climb them.

Once in the safety of my apartment, I tossed my stuff down and threw off my jacket before falling into the sofa. Taron shut the door and locked it, shrugging off his own jacket.

“Just friends?” He repeated to me. “Acquaintances?”

My gaze was on my hands on my lap. I was anxious. I was worried about my job and if I was jeopardizing things now.

Taron walked in front of me and scooted the coffee table over just a little before kneeling in front of me. He tucked himself between my open legs and grabbed my hands. “I mean, you could’ve fooled me. With all the kisses and sharing my bed…” He teased as he looked at me. Taron took my hands in his and lifted them, kissing them softly.

I forced myself to look at him. “I panicked. I didn’t want you to get in trouble and I was afraid I’d lose the job which meant losing the apartment and going back home,” I blurted. Tears welled in my eyes as I met his. My heart was still pounding in my chest.

“Hey, hey, hey. Shhh. It’s okay,” Taron said quickly. He kissed my hands again as his forearms rested on my legs. “I was just teasing. I promise.” Concern washed over his face as he reached up and wiped the only tear that managed to spill over. “It doesn’t matter though, love. My private life is my own. As is yours.”

I nodded and turned my gaze back to my hands in his. “Okay,” I murmured. “Okay. I’m sorry.”

Taron’s hand rested on my cheek and I leaned into it, shutting my eyes for a moment. “Nothing to sorry for, okay? All you were doing was looking out for us.”

“Us?” I repeated. I tried to fight the little smile that wanted to show but it was a losing battle.

Taron smirked as he watched my expression change. “Yeah. Us.” He grinned at me and now I really couldn’t help but to smile back at him. He stood up and took my hands again, pulling me up beside him. “Do you still feel like going out tonight?”

I bit my lower lip as I contemplated. Finally I gave him a nod. “Yeah, I do. I think some fun is in order.”

“Excellent. I can’t wait for you to meet my best mate.”

“I’ll change first then we can go,” I said before kissing Taron on the cheek.

“You sure?” He asked. “I like the flannel on you.”

I laughed and nodded. “I want to make a good first impression. Me dressing like this is not the best way.”

Taron shrugged, smiling at me. “Well for future reference, the flannel is very sexy.”

I rolled my eyes as I began to walk away, heading to my room. I switched into different jeans. They had two shades of denim- the inside a light blue and a seem down the middle that changed to a dark blue. I pulled a black shirt from my closet. In the light, the black fabric shimmered. The shoulders had cutouts and on the front, the low cut had a mesh lining and three slits across the fabric. I put the shirt on and went to the bathroom, finding my favorite matte red lipstick. I fixed my eyeliner and ran the hairbrush for through my hair before grabbing my burgundy leather jacket and going back to the living room and finding my boots again. I put them on and faced Taron.

“Better?” I asked.

Taron looked up from his phone, a smile slowly growing. His gaze flickered as he looked me over. “Okay that might be better than the flannel.” He quickly stood up and cleared the space between us, kissing me gently. “Almost makes me not want to go. I don’t want to share you.” I had no doubt my cheeks were red at his comment, matching my hair and lips. He leaned down and kissed me again, his hands finding my lower back. I could feel his reluctance as he pulled himself away. ���We need to go before I change my mind,” he murmured to me, his voice low.

I nodded and slid my jacket on, grabbing my purse on the way out the door. The same car waited for us out front. The ride didn’t take long before pulling up to our destination. It was a karaoke bar. I had some how been convinced that I was going to sing tonight but I was doubtful. I knew I’d need a lot of liquid courage before that could happen.

Even though we bypassed the line to get in, I could hear the whispers and squeals of people who recognized Taron. Inside was easier to deal with. It was a little crowded but tolerable. Taron guided us to the bar and ordered us drinks before we found his friend at table.

“Jack!” Taron greeted with a grin. “This is Rose.”

“The one you talk about all the time?” Jack retorted before looking at me and holding out his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too!” I answered as I shook his hand. “So all the time, huh?”

“Oh yeah. Doesn’t shut up honestly,” Jack said, laughter in his voice.

“Good to know,” I said with a sweet smile as I looked at Taron. He rolled his eyes as we took a seat at the table. I sipped on my drink and paid attention to the people who were on stage. Some people were honestly pretty good and the song choices, for the most part, were upbeat.

“So, Rose, you’re working on the movie too?” Jack asked.

I nodded. “Yeah! I’m a behind the camera person though. I make sure the continuity is there. That actions match the previous movies or that we have our facts right. That sort of thing.”

“Very cool!”

I grinned and nodded. “I’m loving it so far.”

Taron reached over and grabbed my hand that rested on the table, giving it a little squeeze. “Cast and crew love her. She’s been great,” he added. It almost sounded like he was bragging about me. “We got lucky, I think.” I blushed and took my drink in my hand again as he carried on. “She’s a pretty talented singer too.”

My eyes widened as I shook my head. “I don’t know about all that,” I said quickly. “And one drink is not going to be enough to get me up there to make a fool of myself.”

“And that would be why he ordered shots,” Jack said as a waitress walked to the table with a tray. She sat down nine shots in total. I groaned as Taron slid three of them to me. Jack and Taron both lifted one, so I followed suit. We clinked the little glasses before I downed the mouthful of vodka. It burned as it fell down my throat, leaving me to scrunch my nose and shake my head a little.

Taron laughed at my expression before getting up. He went up to wait his turn to sing. Once on stage, I recognized George Michael’s Faith. I sang along quietly at the table while Taron was up there. Once he came back to his spot, he looked at me and pointed at the stage.

“One shot still isn’t enough.”

Taron smirked and grabbed a second. I sighed and took a second. We repeated the same steps: clink and throw back the drink. The second shot was worse than the first. I could feel the heat already growing on my face. “What’s your song of choice?” Taron asked. “Because don’t have anyone signed up after this song.”

I sighed and looked at the stage, racking my brain for what song I could manage. I jumped off the stool and finished off my original drink. I would probably request it later. Mixing light and dark alcohols were always a mistake. I walked over the queue for the stage and gave the guy running it the song. He looked over the list and nodded once he saw it on the list. I waited for my turn, bouncing on my legs.

The girl in front of me finished off her song and hurried off the stage before the guy gave the go ahead to go up. I climbed up the stairs and walked to the mic. The spotlight was bright in my eyes but luckily it kept me from seeing the majority of the crowd. I could see the prompter with the lyrics beginning to scroll across.

Stage fright was a very real thing as I stood there. I felt stiff behind the mic, singing the lyrics to Demi Lovato’s Ruin The Friendship. Then the alcohol began to hit. I was loosening up and felt myself diving into the lyrics. Truth be told, I didn’t care how I sounded. I just was glad I had actually gotten up on stage.

After the song ended, I heard clapping. I moved down the stairs again and could see far more people than I would have liked. But the majority of them were clapping. I found my way back to the table and climbed up on the stool. Before I gave myself the chance to listen to anything Taron or Jack were saying, I grabbed my remaining shot and threw it back.

When I put the glass down, I looked between the two of them. Taron was grinning and holding back laughter. Jack was giving me a nod of approval. Evidently I had done something right.

Jack disappeared a little while later, either to get more drinks or head to the restroom, leaving Taron and I alone. He stood up and moved beside me, standing next to my bar stool. He arm slid around my waist as he kissed my cheek.

“Were you trying to tell me something with that song?” He whispered into my ear.

I was flushed from the alcohol in my system but his breath on my ear sent shivers down my spine. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” I teased, looking at him and kissing him swiftly.

[dontmindthefangirling]

Broken Nose {t.h.}

part 4

gif not mine

Summary:  You’ve just gotten a new job as an on-set medic for Spider-Man: Far From Home to be on stand by for any injuries that may occur during stunts. When the star of the movie, Tom Holland, breaks his nose from a particularly bad fall, you fix his broken nose but can he fix your broken heart?

Warnings: mentions of blood, death, a bad accident; swearing

Tom Holland x Female!Reader

part 3 | series masterlist

-

The windshield wipers on the ambulance were wiping back and forth vigorously as you and James made your way to the studio. You could barely see three feet in front of you, and you had no idea how James was driving in this terrible weather. The traffic was stopped bumper to bumper, and you thought New York traffic was bad enough as it was, but add in flash flooding and torrential downpour and you’ve got a whole new type of traffic. 

“We’re going to be late,” James groaned as he leaned his head back against his seat. The rain was coming down so fast that the windshield wipers didn’t even have a chance to wipe it away. 

“I’m sure they’ll understand,” you reasoned, looking at James. He had one hand on the steering wheel and another in his blonde locks. 

“C’mon!” James shouted, honking the horn. “Use the gas pedal, idiots!”

You let out a sigh as you looked out your window as you inched along. James had suggested earlier that you put your lights on and then people would have to move out of the way for you, but you quickly reminded him how unethical that was. 

“We could at least put the radio on,” you suggested. 

“Go for it,” James sighed. 

You shuffled through a few stations, settling for one of the morning talk shows. Of course, all they were talking about was the terrible weather. You leaned back in your seat and pulled out your phone, about to send a text to Mike letting him know that you and James were about ten minutes away from the studio, but if this traffic continued it may take you another half hour. 

But before you could hit send, you heard it.

Crash!

You jerked your head up, and met James’s eyes, as you both had an equal understanding as to what had happened. Every single car around you came to a halt. And then came the screams for help. 

James quickly flicked on the lights and sirens, but the traffic was so bad that even if the cars wanted to move out of the way for you to get through, they couldn’t. There was just nowhere to go. 

You quickly unbuckled your seat and started to walk towards the back. 

“(Y/N)!” James called. “Don’t go out there!”

You blocked him out as you began gathering one of the go-bags that was perched on the metallic bench in the back, grabbing an extra oxygen mask and one of the raincoats that was conveniently stored on one of the shelves. You heard James groan from his seat as he put the ambulance in park, keeping the lights and sirens on, and shuffling back towards you.

“There are cars everywhere,” James said to you. “You could get hit-”

“Someone already did get hit,” you said back, slipping the raincoat on. 

“(Y/N)-”

You opened the door and jumped out the back into the pouring rain. 

-

Tom would be lying if he said he wasn’t disappointed when he saw that the medical tent and table were empty as he walked into the set. His eyes lingered on the spot that you usually sat, but he sipped his coffee and kept walking. 

The traffic was terrible, and he was thankful that security got him through as quick as they did. He had never seen rain like this before, and he almost got soaked just from the millisecond he was outside from the car to the building. 

“Hey, man,” Tom greeted Jacob as he entered hair and makeup to be dried off and remodeled to look like a more energized Peter Parker. 

“Hey! Glad to see you made it,” Jacob said, looking up from his phone. 

“Yeah, this rain is bad,” Tom pointed out. 

The two boys sat in silence for a minute, while Jacob played some game on his phone that Tom didn’t recognize until Tom cleared his throat. 

“Do you, uh, do you think that’s why the medics are late?” Tom asked, bouncing his knee up and down quickly. Jacob looked up from his game, now completely interested in his friend, and a smirk pulled its way onto his lips. 

“Why? Missing (Y/N)?”

Tom’s cheeks instantly flushed a bright shade of pink as his whipped his head around to look at Jacob. 

“W-What? Why would you say something like that?” Tom asked, laughing it off as he tried to ignore the way his heart began to beat rapidly. 

Jacob chuckled. “I heard about your little Tessa date.”

“It wasn’t a date.”

“You brought her back to your trailer-”

“To play with Tessa!”

Jacob raised his eyebrows at Tom, still smirking at his friend. 

“Yeah, okay, dude. Whatever you say,” he sang. 

“She loves dogs,” Tom stated, nonchalantly. “Probably more than I do.”

“So you’re saying you’re perfect for each other?” Jacob laughed. 

“You’re asking to get smacked.”

Suddenly, Zendaya walked into the room, frowning at something on her phone, so engrossed in it that she almost walked into the makeup chair. 

“Z? What is it?” Tom asked, furrowing his eyebrows as Zendaya finally sat down on the couch next to the other two boys, still staring at her phone, swiping frantically. 

“Did you hear about the pile up on 11th avenue?” she asked, turning her phone and showing Jacob and Tom. Both boys leaned forward, looking at the live news feed that was playing through Zendaya’s phone. There wasn’t much to see, considering the news copters couldn’t fly due to the storm, but from the live footage on the ground, they could subtly make out the four cars that had unfortunately met in the middle of an intersection. 

“Oh my god,” Jacob breathed. 

Tom had to look away. He was used to the action in all of his movies, but in real life? That was a different story. These were real people. 

“Wait! Look!” Jacob exclaimed. 

“What?” Zendaya asked. 

Jacob took Zendaya’s phone and backed up the feed, before pressing play. Tom narrowed his eyes when he saw two people with NYEMS jackets run by the camera. 

Tom felt like his heart had suddenly dropped to the pit of his stomach. 

“That’s (Y/N) and James.”

-

The raincoat was useless because after two minutes outside you were already soaked to the bone. James was hot at your heels as you quickly made your way to the scene of the crash. He was not happy about going into this situation blindly, and you knew that protocol required that you were to wait until the scene was safe. But how could you just sit there while people died in front of you and you had the power to help them? 

“(Y/N), we should really wait for the police to show up and secure the scene!” James yelled over the roar of the rain. 

“No time!” you shouted back. “The traffic is so bad, they’ll never get here in time!”

You weaved your way through the cars that were now completely stopped. You saw a news camera out of the corner of your eye as you rushed towards the cars that you could now see, albeit not well with the rain flying in your face. As you got closer you could hear crying and screaming for help. A few bystanders had gotten out of their cars to see what had happened.

You stopped in front of the pileup, feeling a daunting dread as you saw the four cars. There were four cars and only two medics. Normally in this situation, you’d likely have quadruple the amount of medics, one team per car. 

But you’d have to improvise. 

You ran to the first car, dropping your bag at the side as you knocked on the window of the driver’s side. A young woman, she looked to be in her thirties, sat at the wheel, looking completely terrified. She seemed okay, conscious, besides the small cut on her forehead. She turned slowly when you knocked and rolled down the window. 

“Ma’am, are you alright?” you asked loudly over the rain. 

“My-my son,” she gasped. You looked in the back of the car to see a small boy, probably no older than five and you were relieved to see he was alert and oriented. 

“He’s right behind you, ma’am,” you said. “He’s okay.”

The woman began to turn her head, but you quickly stopped her. “No, no. I need you to look ahead and stay absolutely still alright? You could have a neck injury.”

“Momma?” the boy asked softly. The woman began to cry at the sound of her son’s voice. 

“Dylan! Are you alright?” the woman asked without turning her neck, like you advised. You quickly rummaged through your triage equipment, pulling out a green tag for both the mother and her son. Green meant good, and from their consciousness and alertness, you were confident they were going to be okay. 

“Yes, but I’m scared,” the little boy cried. 

“Don’t worry, honey,” the woman replied. “Everything will be alright.”

“Okay, I need you both to listen to me,” you said sternly, gaining both the mother and her son’s attention. “My name is (Y/N), I’m a paramedic. More help is on the way, but right now I need to check on other cars, so please stay where you are and keep breathing.”

You waited until they nodded confirming they understood, before you rushed to the next car. 

James was on the other side of the wreck, checking on the other two cars. 

You approached the next car, and your stomach flipped. You’d been on this job long enough to see a lot of things, but as you approached this car, you knew it wouldn’t end well. The driver was unconscious, his head against the steering wheel which was coated in blood. The passenger was conscious and crying. She was clutching her side, and you could see the blood seeping through her clothes already. 

You looked toward the street, hoping that help would arrive soon, and then you ran to the passenger door. After knocking on the window, you gestured to the lock on the door, and the woman unlocked it while grimacing. 

You pulled the door open and knelt at her side. 

“Ma’am, can you tell me your name?” you asked as you pulled out the gauze from your bag. 

“M-Margaret,” the woman said through gritted teeth. “Oh god, is it bad? Is Charlie okay?” 

You glanced over at the man at the wheel and failed to see his chest rising or falling. 

“I’m going to raise your shirt okay? I need to see the bleeding,” you said. Margaret nodded slowly and hissed when your fingers brushed against the bloody wound. A deep gash caused by the broken glass of the windshield had swiped her entire lower abdomen. You quickly grabbed the gauze.

“This is going to sting, but I’m going to apply pressure,” you advised. Margaret braced herself and let out an ear-piercing scream as you pressed down on the wound. As you did so, you glanced nervously at the still unconscious driver. 

“James!” you yelled, hoping he’d hear. “I’m going to need some help over here!”

“Yeah, I need help too!” James shouted back. 

“Dammit,” you mumbled under your breath. The bleeding wouldn’t stop, and you were putting a lot of pressure on it. She needed a hospital.

“Charlie,” Margaret whispered, her voice faint as she began to lean back in her seat. 

“Hey! Hey! Margaret, I need you to stay with me!” you shouted, using your other hand to hold her cheek. Margaret’s gaze was glassy and her eyelids looked heavy. 

“Is...is Charlie? Where-”

“Tell me about Charlie,” you said sternly, still applying pressure. You had to change out the gauze three times already because the blood just kept coming. 

“He’s...”

Margaret’s eyes fluttered closed, and your heart began to hammer. 

“Margaret! Hey! Look at me! Tell me about Charlie!” you shouted. She was mumbling, but it was incoherent, and you looked around frantically for any type of help. 

“(Y/N)!” someone shouted. You turned to see two teams of medics running towards the scene and you felt like crying with relief. You recognized them from your station and you wanted to hug each and every one of them. 

“What’s the situation?” the one who called your name, Brett, asked as he rushed to your side. 

“That car is all green. Conscious and coherent,” you said quickly, pointing to the mother and son. “I haven’t been able to get to the driver of this car yet, he’s unconscious and not breathing, need to realign his airway. She’s bleeding out, I can’t contain it.”

One team ran to the mother and son while Brett went to driver side of the car you were on. The others rushed to help James. 

“I’m going to need the jaws of life over here!” you heard James yell. 

“I’ve got a pulse!” Brett shouted after feeling Charlie’s neck. 

“Charlie?” Margaret mumbled. 

“She needs to be transported, immediately!” you yelled to Brett. 

“He does, too!” Brett responded. “We need more hands.”

You heard sirens in the distance and prayed that they’d get there sooner. You continued to wrap Margaret’s wound, but the blood just kept fucking coming. 

“Shit,” you grumbled as the blood coated your gloved hands. But you kept changing the gauze. 

The loud whirring of the mechanical jaws of life caught your attention and you looked over to see NYFD (New York Fire Department) taking apart one of the cars near James. 

“We’ve got a gurney,” a medic said, approaching you from behind. You almost cried tears of joy again.

“Perfect,” you said, moving to the side to help him move Margaret from the car to the gurney. 

“Margaret, they’re going to take you to the hospital now,” you said, leaning over Margaret, still holding the blood gauze to her abdomen. Margaret’s eyes were half-lidded and her lips were turning blue and her skin was an ashen color. You knew it didn’t look good, but you let go of her abdomen when she was lifted into the ambulance. You noticed that another team had gotten Charlie out of the car and he was also being transported. 

You watched for a moment as their ambulances raced away to the nearest hospital until James’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. You were covered in Margaret’s blood, but there was no time to change. You could only change your gloves before rushing over to the scene. 

The police had arrived by now and had blocked off the area of the accident. The firefighters had been able to take apart one of the cars, and when you saw the scene inside, you wished you had stayed where you were. One of the passengers was clearly deceased. His eyes were wide open as he laid across one of the seats, and blood covered his entire side of his body. The man next to him was in clear shock, unable to move, and glass was impaled in his arms. The driver’s leg was stuck under the dashboard, hence the need for the jaws of life, and the person in the front seat was unconscious with obvious apparent fractures to her legs. 

“We need to get him out of there as soon as the pressure is off his legs!” James shouted, standing next to the driver as the firefighters lifted the car. 

“I’m here,” you said, your voice sounding weaker than you wanted it to as you stood next to James. He nodded, meeting your eyes as the rain pelted your bodies, causing your hair to stick to your foreheads. You, James, Brett, and another medic stood beside the car with a gurney ready, and as soon as the pressure was off his legs, the driver began to scream as all of the blood and pain rushed back to his nerves. You quickly scooped him out of the car and Brett and the other medic ran him to their ambulance. 

“We have to get him out of there,” you said to James, gesturing to the deceased patient. The passengers were obviously in distress at the sight of their dead friend, and it was only going to make their pain worse. 

“The police are on it,” James said back to you as a pair of cops came over. You turned away when you saw the infamous white sheet. 

“These two need to be transported, ASAP!” James shouted to the personnel nearby. “She has two compound fractures! One is her femur and he possibly has a spinal injury!”

A cervical collar was placed on the passenger in the back who was crying now as the cops placed the white sheet over his friend and he was gently lifted out of the car. The girl had gone unconscious most likely due to the pain but she was still breathing and that was all that mattered in a time like this. 

And as quickly as it began, all of the patients were accounted for with the exception of two casualties. You hadn’t seen the second casualty, James kept you away from it as it must have been pretty gruesome and the body was already covered. 

Regardless, out of eleven sudden patients, you, James, and the NYEMS team managed to save nine of them. 

James looked at you as the police department diverted traffic away from the scene. 

“Do you still want to go to work?” he asked gently. 

You were still covered in blood, and the adrenaline was starting to come down, leaving you feeling shaky and uneasy. You’ve dealt with situations like these before, but it never gets easier. 

You looked at James and nodded softly. 

You’d rather go to the studio and get your mind off of what had just happened than go home and dwell about it. 

-

Tom was in his trailer, slightly pacing as you and James hadn’t shown up to the studio all day, and the last he saw and heard from you was on TV as you ran towards a dangerous car pile up. He wished he wasn’t worrying as much as he was, but the weather was bad, and his mind wanted to wander. 

Tessa sat on the couch, watching as Tom nervously ran a hand through his hair multiple times, hoping to hear from you at some-

There was a knock at his door. 

He walked over, and swung it open, his heart almost flipping when he saw you standing before him. Your hair was soaked, matted down against your forehead, and you looked like you were about to break down. You were wearing a large sweatshirt that looked far too big to be yours, and a pair of sweatpants. 

“(Y/N),” Tom breathed. “Are you alright? What-”

“I could really use a Tessa hug right about now,” you said, your voice cracking mid-sentence. 

“Of course,” Tom said, stepping to the side, letting you in. Tom was silent as he watched you walk over to Tessa, who immediately sat up excitedly, her tail wagging excessively. Tom shut the door as he watched you scoop Tessa into your arms. He wanted to so badly hug you himself, but he kept his distance. 

That was, until your body began to shake from sobs. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Tom said gently, kneeling next to you. You were hugging Tessa tightly to your chest, burying your face in her fur as tears ran down your cheeks. 

“I’m sorry,” you cried out. 

“Hey, shh,” Tom cooed. “Don’t be sorry.”

You looked up from Tessa, and your expression broke Tom. Your eyes were brimmed with red, and your nose was bright from constant sniffling. 

“Two people died,” you whispered. Tom’s stomach dropped. He had no idea what you saw in the field and he felt selfish for not wanting to know, but all he knew was that you looked so defeated that he wanted to make it better, just like you made him better. 

“I’m sorry, (Y/N),” Tom said softly. You whimpered and looked back down at Tessa, patting her head as if holding that small dog would make all of your sadness go away. But it wasn’t working. Margaret was still bleeding out the last time you saw her, and Charlie was still unconscious. You had no idea if they would make it, even though they made it to the hospital. 

“There was just so many of them, and-and-”

“It’s alright,” Tom comforted. “You can’t save them all, (Y/N).”

You looked at him, your lip trembling. “I wish I could.”

Tom nodded and looked down. “I know.”

More tears silently made their way down your cheeks and you hiccuped, jerking your body slightly. You felt like another sob was threatening to bubble its way up to your chest. 

“C’mere,” Tom whispered, opening his arms. You looked at him, hesitating for a moment, before giving in because every bone in your body ached and every time you closed your eyes you saw that patient’s lifeless eyes. You wanted to just be able to think about something else for a moment, and you didn’t want to think about the crying and screaming that came from those cars. 

You laid down your head on Tom’s lap, and you realized you were both crossing boundaries that you didn’t know if you could come back from, but you really needed some sort of comfort right now, and Tom just smelled like home, and it made you hurt a little bit less. 

Tessa curled up next to you, as you rested your head in Tom’s lap, and he kept one of his hands in your hair and the other on your shoulder. You kept one arm draped over Tessa’s body, pulling the staffy closer to you. 

Tom hoped you couldn’t hear the way his heart was doing a full gymnastics routine and he also knew that boundaries had suddenly been crossed, but when you closed your eyes and your breathing became more even and less staggered from your crying, Tom felt better. He had helped.

“Thank you,” you whispered. 

“Anytime, love.”

-

part 5

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[imagine-loki]

You were saying, little mortal?

TITLE: You were saying, little mortal?

CHAPTER NO.: 1/?

AUTHOR: Solaramoonset

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine being a passive superhero fan. You’ve read a few comics, you’ve seen most of Marvel’s movies. One day on your way to work, you get pulled over and arrested. The police don’t explain why, only demanding you keep quiet. You’re taken to an abandon looking warehouse. Roughly you’re tossed into a makeshift cell. Really its just an office someone empty and replaced the normal door with a metal one. You don’t expect the voice behind you.

“So kid what are you in for?”

Its Robert Downey jr, sort of. Something is off and he seems confused to be called by that name. You hear a scuffle outside your shared cell. The door bursts open and in walks Tom Hiddleston as Loki. Although something is off about him too. You soon find all the “Avengers” actors there. You don’t know whats going on but the longer you are around them the more crazy you feel. They don’t seem to know their actor names, and you can’t find any cameras around. Its like for them this is real.

They decide to take you back with them (clearly thinking something is wrong with you). You find yourself sitting next to Loki. Having enough of this craziness you go on a rant, expecting you are ranting to Tom Hiddleston. Loki lets you say your bit, seemingly amused by you, before holding up his hand and bringing forth just enough seidr to glow and flow around his hand. “You were saying, little mortal?”

RATING: Teen

NOTES: Also on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18953773/chapters/45003085

Chapter 1

“Wake up

Grab a brush and put a little (makeup)

Grab a brush and put a little

Hide the scars to fade away the (shakeup)

Hide the scars to fade away the

Why’d you leave the keys upon the table?

Here you go create another fable

You wanted to”

Enid groaned as she blindly reached over for her phone. Who’d call this early? A quick glance showed it was her boss. “Enid Rose here.” She mumbled into the phone.

“Good morning. How is my favorite secretary slash unofficial office manager?” A far too cheerful voice answered her.

“Duncan, its three in the morning. Please get to the point.” Enid rolled over to stare at her ceiling.

“Gregory needs a ride to work. If I remember correctly you pass his place on the way in. Care to give him a ride?”

“Gregory who?” Enid knew who Gregory was. She actually got along pretty well with the head of maintenance and IT support, even though most thought he was a little weird. He was a brilliant engineer, but for some reason, chose to work in a small office setting.

“Gregory Stark, naturally. His hover car broke down again. Go figure, man makes the first hover car but can’t keep the damn thing running. So about that ride?”

“Yeah Duncan, I’ll pick him up. I’ll text him when I’m on my way. Now if there’s nothing else I think I’ll get back to sleep.”

“Don’t forget it’s your turn to bring breakfast. Please make sure its something unhealthy, totally bad for you and full of sugar this time.” Duncan hung up before Enid could protest.

“I bring pumpkin-carrot muffins one time.” Enid threw off the covers. There was no way she’d be getting back to sleep. Might as well go for a morning jog.

XOXOXOX

Enid pulled up outside a group of apartmentsshooting off a quick text. ‘ERose Taxi service. Searching for brilliant engineer, who killed a hover car. Again.’ Almost immediately she received a response.

'Good morning my beautiful, intelligent, wonderful, sarcastic savior! I’ll be right down to your death trap masquerading as an SUV’ a few minuets later Gregory hopped in.

“If you don’t like my baby, you can always walk to work.” Enid pulled out of the apartment complex and back on the road.

“My lovely queen of the office file system, I shall endeavor to keep my mouth shut. I think we both know how monumental a task that will be.” Enid began laughing, Gregory joining a moment later.

“Did you see Venom yet?”

“Enid, the only reason you went to see that movie was to watch Tom Hardy. Besides I have issues with villains getting their own movies.” Gregory grumbled.

“Tom Hardy is nice to look at. I wasn’t expecting the twist they put to Venom though. In the Tobey Maguire spider-man, Venom was a villain. In this new story there’s no way anyone will call him a hero but he is a very interesting anti-hero.”

“What about that new avenger’s trailer? Have you seen that?”

“It had me in tears Gregory, tears. It looks like they’re going to kill off Tony! They already killed Bucky and Loki! … Dammit. We might have to test you keeping your mouth shut sooner than expect. It looks like we’re getting pulled over.” Enid frowned looking in the rear-view mirror. Gregory tensed up.

“Call me Duncan around the cops. Lets just say I’m not exactly here legally; I’ll explain later.” Enid gave a quick nod grabbing her wallet and putting both hands on the wheel. She lowered the window as an office approached.

“Step out of the vehicle please.”

“Sure office. Can I ask what this is about?” Enid gulped. What was going on?

“Both of you need to get out of the vehicle, hands in the air.” Both Enid and Gregory stepped out of the SUV hands raised. Rough hands grabbed Enid, slapping cuffs on her wrists.

“What the hell?” Enid tried to look at the officer. A heavy hit to her temple had her stumbling.

“Enid!”

“Shut up! You’re both coming with us!” The world faded in and out as Enid was shoved in the back of a cop car. She shook her head to clear it.

“Keep quiet, they’re after me. I’m sure when they figure out you aren’t part of anything they’ll let you go.”Gregory leaned in and whispered into Enid’s ear. She knew he was probably trying to be reassuring but it was freaking her out more. What could her friend be involved with? The patrol car slowed down outside an abandoned looking warehouse Enid’s stomach dropped. She was pulled from the car one way, Gregory the other.

“Move it.” Enid was half dragged through the warehouse into what could have been an office once. As the door was slammed in her face, Enid made a quick look around for anything useful, but it appeared someone had removed everything already. Enid tried not to hyperventilate as she looked at the closed door. It was metal, and looked heavy. Probably not the original door. She tried to wiggle her wrists, the cuffs were digging into her skin.

“So kid, what you in for?” Enid jumped at the voice and spun around. Sitting in a dark corner was none other than Robert Downey Jr. As impossible as it seemed, the man she was starring down was a dead ringer for the actor.

“Robert Downey Jr.? How? Why? What is Gregory mixed up in?” Enid stammered. The man gave her a confused look.

“Whoa there Kid, my name’s Tony. Did you say Gregory? Cause I have this brother named Gregory and those thugs were looking for him. Was your Gregory with you when you got caught?” the more she looked at him, the more something seemed off about him. She just couldn’t figure out what.

“Yeah, I was giving him a ride to work. But you don’t look anything like him.”

“That’s not good news to me kid, my brother looks nothing like me.”

“Please don’t call me kid.”

“Okay short stack. Just sit tight, my friends are coming to bust me… I guess us now, out.” Enid rolled her eyes at Tony. At least he’d apparently stopped calling her a kid. Enid heard a shout and a thud from outside the door She step closer to listen better but Tony pulled her back. “If my friends are here, it won’t be a good idea to stand by the door.” The door groaned and burst open. A tall figure stood in the smoke. Enid gaped.

“Oh my god! Its Tom Hiddleston!” Enid was stunned. The man in the doorway seemed confused.

“I am Loki, of Asgard. Come Stark, I was sent to free you.” Enid was practically vibrating in her excitement. She bounced over to Loki with stars in her eyes. A thought struck her and her excitement disappeared. She rounded on Tony.

“Wait Stark? Your name is Tony Stark? Were your parent’s Marvel fans or something? No this is too much, its gotta be some sort of prank.”

“I’m getting out of here short stack, you coming or what?” he followed Loki, Enid trailed behind the two. There was no way she was staying. As they reached the main floor of the warehouse, a huge fight was going on. Enid could see Scarlett Johansson in a black skin tight suit. Jeremy Renner was in the rafters shooting arrows! There was even someone dressed as Captain America. The fight was intense, the hits looked and sounded very real. The one thing Enid couldn’t seem to find, were any cameras.

“Head down!” Enid didn’t know who shouted that or who pushed her down but her instincts were screaming at her this fight wasn’t staged. What the hell was going on? Enid stayed down, shaking as the fight continued around her. She had no way to judge how long the fight lasted, time had no meaning for her. It was Gregory’s soft voice which finally had her looking up.

“Hey E, it’s okay. Its over now.” She shook her head at him and held up her wrists which were still cuffed. Scarlett knelt beside her and picked the lock, freeing Enid’s wrists.

“How’d you do that? I mean your charcater Natasha is a complete badass but I wouldn’t think you’d have to learn something like this to play her.” Enid whispered in awe. Scarlettt gave her an odd look.

“So how are you?” Gregory winced at his own question. Enid blinked. She wasn’t sure where the laughter or tears came from but she couldn’t seem to stop either. “Tony, we can’t leave her like this, they’re bound to come back.” Gregory called over his should.

“Greg, why doesn’t she know us? She didn’t even know Loki, called him Tom Hiddleston.”

“It’s a long story-” Gregory started.

“It always is with you. But your right, we can’t leave her. Something is wr… isn’t right. Did she get hit in the head?” Gentle hands help Enid stand, she looked up into bright blue eyes. It slowed the tears. By the time she had been led onto a weird plane, quinjet her mind supplied, she was reduced to soft hiccups. Gregory sat on one side of her, oddly enough Loki sat on her other side.

“You’ve had an interesting day, would you like to talk about it?” Loki gave Enid a gentle smile.

“What are you up to brother?” Enid turned her head to look at Chris Hemsworth. Something in her snapped. She turned back to Loki.

“Interesting isn’t the right word. Impossible is so much better! This entire day should be impossible! I’m surrounded by the actors from the Avengers movies only they don’t seem to know it! Tony Stark or Robert Downey Jr? Tom Hiddleston or Loki? Cause I swear I’m talking to the actor, not the character. And you just had to go and say the line, why did you have to say the line? Haven’t you seen other fans swoon from it?!? Don’t get me wrong, all of you are brlliants actors but superheros aren’t real! The Avengers aren’t real! It’s just a movie! The costumes, the fight, and no cameras! ANYWHER! None of this can be real! What the fuck is going on?!? I have to be losing my fucking mind or sometihng. Greg if this is one of your pranks I will stab you.” Enid ranted. There was a twinkle in Loki’s eyes.

“Wow two 'fucks’ and a death threat all in one day, today has been rough hasn’t it?” Gregory muttered. If looks would kill, Enid would have murdered him.

“Language!” Steve called from somewhere up front.

“Dude so help me, this is a FUCK, FUCK, FUCKITY, FUCK kinda of day!.” Enid snapped. The plane was deadly quiet. Enid looked back at Loki. He was wearing a smirk and his eyes were practicly glowing. Slowly he held his hand up, his seidr flowed around his hand like a green mist. Enid looked from his hand into his eyes, her mouth gaping, her eyes wide.

“You were saying, little mortal?”

“No fucking way…” Enid’s eyes rolled back into her head and her body slumped. Loki caught her before she could fall out of her seat.

“So Greg, we’ve got a long flight ahead of us, I think it’s time for that story.”

[artificialqueens]

as the stars align 4/? (branjie) - rujubees

A/N: hollywood enemies to lovers au; 4.2k - also on ao3

Vanessa was having a crisis. She was in a situation so dire, there was nothing to do but call on her two right-hand women for advice. Thankfully, A’keria and Silky were receptive to her SOS signal and arrived at her apartment within ten minutes, alcohol in clutch per Vanessa’s request.

“What’s the tea, Christine?” Silky asked as Vanessa led them to the kitchen. She then made fearful eye contact with A’keria as their friend began downing a series of shots.

Suddenly, Vanessa began to cry.

“Oh no, shhh, it’s okay,” Silky spoke softly as she stood up behind Vanessa’s stool to comfort her.

“I — is it Riley? Is he okay?” A’keria guessed. Seemingly hearing his name, Vanessa’s dog bounced into the kitchen and began licking at the woman who’d just asked after him. Even Vanessa had to let out a chuckle at that.

“No, God no, he’s fine,” Vanessa replied, scooping up Riley up for a cuddle, before letting him go once she realised she’d gotten his fur wet.

“Is it Matt? Did y’all break up?” A’keria tried again, reaching across the bar to take Vanessa’s hand in her own.

“It’s not about him — well, it kind of is,” Vanessa managed to choke out between sobs. Silky and A’keria simply waited for her to continue.

“I’m sorry guys, I’m a big girl, I’ll stop.” Vanessa wiped away her tears, streaking the makeup that she hadn’t been able to bring herself to remove after that afternoon’s shoot.

She then let out a deep breath.

“It’s… Brooke.”

“Is she giving you shit again? Because I won’t hesitate to cut that skinny bitch, you just say the word Vanj,” Silky said protectively.

“It’s not that, I just… I think I might like her,” Vanessa revealed timidly, preparing for a storm. A’keria’s brows shot up and Silky’s jaw dropped slightly, but they certainly weren’t as gobsmacked as Vanessa had been expecting them to be when she told them.

“You mean…” A’keria trailed off.

“Yeah. Go on, tell me what a masochist I am.”

“I’m not judging, girl, I get it. It’s not all that surprising really,” A’keria shrugged.

“What? I just told you that I like the woman who up until today, I hated,” Vanessa hit back, confused, trying to emphasise the ‘hate’ part as much as she could.

“Yeah, exactly, you’ve been obsessed, V, you know it’s true. She’s practically all you’ve talked about for weeks.”

Vanessa swallowed guiltily, unable to argue with that.

“Kiki’s right. But why the change of heart?” Silky wondered.

It took Vanessa a strength she didn’t know she had to stop herself from crying again.

“I don’t know, I just — today she was acting like she wanted nothing to do with me, and it fucking hurt more than any of the mean shit she’s thrown my way. And when I called her out on it, she actually apologised and she was so frickin’ soft and I realised that that’s the Brooke I wanna know all the time. And then later in her dressing room, we almost kissed— ”

“Hold up hoe, you kissed?!” Silky yelled.

“No! But I went to her dressing room to practice, and we were so close, I swear my pulse has never been that quick. If it weren’t for fuckin’ Scyvie— ”

“Who the fuck is Scyvie?” A’keria interrupted.

“Doesn’t matter. Point is I really like her and I dunno what the hell I’m gonna do. I have to kiss her tomorrow!”

A’keria sighed before looking to Silky, who gave her a small nod, leaving Vanessa bewildered.

“I think you should break up with Matt, Vanessa,” A’keria said gently, giving Vanessa’s hand a squeeze. “If you really have feelings for Brooke, it’s not fair for you to lead him on. Think about it. You almost cheated on him today.”

“I wouldn’t do that. It was just to practice,” Vanessa defended herself as fresh tears began to fall.

“Was it really?” Silky questioned, her voice without accusation despite the context.

“I’m not breaking up with Matt. Brooke doesn’t want me, okay? She hates me and she’s probably straight and I don’t wanna be her stupid girlfriend anyway, it’s just a dumb crush. I’ll get over it. And I love Matt.” Vanessa stood up, her stool screeching the tiles, and returning the empty glasses to the sink, indicating that the conversation was over.

“Whatever you do, we’re here for you, V,” spoke A’keria. Vanessa just gave a small smile in response. She didn’t know what she’d do without her Dreamgirls.

—

Vanessa didn’t get the chance to speak with Brooke in hair and makeup the next morning, a fact that she wasn’t sure whether she was grateful for or saddened by. There were a lot of characters involved in Friday’s shoot, and so Scarlet, Plastique and some of the other actors were brought into the leads’ beauty trailer to utilise the space. For once, the place was buzzing with noise, and although it was unlike her, Vanessa let herself tune out of the conversation, knowing that she needed to mentally prepare herself for the day ahead.

When they arrived on set, Vanessa swallowed her pride and approached Brooke Lynn, wanting to clear the air before their big scene.

“I’m sorry about yesterday. If I made you uncomfortable,” Vanessa said stiffly.

“Oh, no. It’s fine, you didn’t,” Brooke assured her.

“I just wanna make the movie perfect.” It wasn’t a complete lie; Vanessa did care about the scene turning out well. Brooke nodded understandingly.

Vanessa chuckled shyly, filling the air, desperately trying to think of ways to keep their conversation going until they had to film. She couldn’t handle anymore tense silences between them.

“It’s just like, when straight actresses kiss and sometimes it looks really forced, y’know? And this movie is gonna be all big for LGBT rep and stuff— ”

“I get it,” Brooke barked. Vanessa smiled painfully, feeling as awkward as the same-sex kisses she had watched on screen growing up, and wishing she could figure out a way to quit pissing her co-star off again.

“Ladies, we start shooting scene twenty-seven in ten, so get in any last minute rehearsals now,” Michelle called from her directors’ chair.

Brooke walked off, saying she was going to use the toilet, but Vanessa was pretty sure that was an excuse, that in reality, she just couldn’t stand to look at Vanessa a moment longer. Hearing the own thoughts she was having now that she had started to like Brooke only made her want to go back to hating the other woman — she was becoming paranoid and over-analytical about something as ridiculous as Brooke using the damn toilet. She just wanted to push her feelings down, but it was pretty hard when Brooke was with her everyday, right there in front of her.

And she looked like that.

Vanessa wasn’t left alone for long as it was then that Scarlet and Plastique appeared, buzzing with excitement, also preparing themselves for their roles in the upcoming scene.

“Ready for your big moment, sis?” Plastique asked. Vanessa groaned.

“Ugh, no, y’all are hyping it up way too much and it’s probably gonna suck.”

“That’s impossible, you’re both way too talented for that. Don’t stress, it’ll be fine,” Scarlet said, giving her a pat.

The scene was a pivotal one; not only was it the first kiss between Brooke and Vanessa’s characters, it was also the scene where Emilia, Vanessa’s role, confesses her feelings to Brooke’s character, Jade, before she goes off on a space mission. Vanessa really hoped she could put her own feelings for Brooke to the side and get it right.

“Okay, places, please,” Michelle requested, and people on set began shuffling into position. Everyone was there, and would be watching; Michelle, Asia, the rest of the cast and crew, even the hair and makeup artists in case any touch ups became necessary. It was pretty intimidating, Vanessa had to admit — she had never shared an onscreen kiss beyond brief pecks as a supporting role in various medical dramas. When she spotted Katya, the blonde woman gave her a quick thumbs up; Vanessa had grown to like her and her quirkiness.

Brooke took her spot opposite Vanessa, and the first part of the scene, which involved a meeting between all of the astronauts, went off without a hitch.

“Okay, cut. That was great, you guys,” Michelle praised them, clearly happy to have completed it in just a couple of takes. “Brooke and Vanessa, you ready?”

They both nodded succinctly. Vanessa began to feel her hands clam up.

“Okay, action.”

“Jade, hold up,” Vanessa started as Brooke’s character walked out the meeting room.

“Em? What’s wrong?” Brooke asked, stopping in her tracks.

“Can we talk? Sit with me. Please.” Vanessa said, gripping Brooke’s hand lightly and pulling them both towards chairs.

“I just… I’m so happy for you. Tomorrow, you’ll be worlds away. Literally,” Vanessa continued. “Are you excited?”

“Yeah,” Brooke replied, her eyes sparkling. “It’s all I’ve dreamed of, ever since I was a little girl asking too many questions in physics class.” She took a deep breath. “I can’t wait to see the stars. To really see them.”

The two of them sat as a comfortable silence formed between their two characters.

“Was there anything else?” Brooke’s character asked sadly, like she wanted to say so much more.

“I just… I feel like it’s been so long. I miss my friend.” Vanessa answered.

“I miss you too. I’ll keeping missing you,” Brooke replied.

“Then don’t go.”

Brooke paused.

“What?”

“Stay here. Stay with me. Brooke, I—”

“Cut!” Michelle shouted. “Vanessa, as much as I’m sure Brooke would gladly accept the invitation to stay with you, right now you’re talking to Jade,” she reminded her, earning a few chuckles from a number of people on set. Vanessa knew Michelle was just trying to inject some humour into the day, but felt her cheeks heat up nonetheless.

“It just slipped out, Blondie,” she told Brooke quietly, trying to downplay her embarrassment. It was a common mistake — there was no reason why anyone would look into it. Brooke did nothing except fix her with an unimpressed stare, and Vanessa just wanted the Brooke from yesterday to come back.

“Action!”

“Stay here. Stay with me. Jade, I… I have something to tell you.”

“You do?” Brooke asked with a quick intake of breath. Her eyes were curious, even hopeful, and it amazed Vanessa that she was able to convey that level of nuance with only her eyes.

“I — I love you. I wish I could say it more poetically or using some space metaphor or some shit, but it really is just that simple. I want to be with you.”

Vanessa’s eyes began to water. Brooke’s own were conflicted.

“Emilia, I — I’m sorry. But I have to do this. You know I do.” Vanessa allowed the tears to leave her eyes as her character got up to leave.

“Emilia — wait — ” Brooke pleaded, catching up with Vanessa by the door and grabbing her arm, making them face one another. Vanessa prayed that Brooke couldn’t hear her heart pounding against her chest.

Brooke’s hand came up to cup her cheek and Vanessa was gone. She was glad that this was exactly what her character wanted, as she didn’t think she could possibly reject Brooke when she was looking at her like that, even if the script called for it.

Brooke tilted her head and finally pressed her mouth to Vanessa’s. They kissed softly, Brooke’s lips moving like silk on top of hers, even more tender than Vanessa could’ve imagined. Vanessa knew it shouldn’t have been romantic, that on-screen kisses were widely regarded as anything but — but all she could think of was how right this felt, how they should’ve been doing it all along instead whatever the hell they had been wasting their time with for the past month.

Vanessa knew that it was only supposed to be a short and sweet goodbye kiss, but Michelle wasn’t yelling cut — not that Vanessa would’ve been able to hear over the fireworks crackling in her ears. But Brooke hadn’t stopped, and she took that as a good sign.

And when Vanessa felt herself be slowly backed against the door, Brooke’s tongue slipping into her mouth, to the sound of soft moans that could’ve been from either one of them, she knew that it definitely wasn’t part of the script, but she certainly wasn’t complaining.

“Cut!” came the familiar voice of Michelle’s command, and the two actresses sprung apart.

“Tone it down, you guys. What part of ‘keep it PG’ don’t you understand? It’s right there in the stage directions,” Michelle waved the script from a distance. “Let’s take five.”

“What the fuck are you playing at?” Brooke asked her abruptly in an especially bitchy tone.

“What?” Vanessa asked back, genuinely confused.

“Don’t act like this isn’t your fault, not after the way you were all over me yesterday. You tryna make me look unprofessional or something?” Brooke hit back.

“Are you fuckin’ kidding me?” Vanessa spat furiously. “Your horny ass had me pinned against the fucking wall, don’t even try to deny it, bitch, everyone saw, we got it here on fuckin’ CCTV. And you wanna blame me? How fuckin’ repressed are you?” Vanessa didn’t think she had ever been this mad, which was saying a lot since almost every encounter she’d had with Brooke seemed to set a new record — each time she thought she wasn’t capable of being so angry, Brooke went and proved her wrong.

Brooke went quiet at Vanessa’s outburst, but Vanessa couldn’t find it in her to show an ounce of sympathy.

“Do we need to reshoot?” Vanessa checked as she walked up to a group of crew members.

“No, we can work with what we’ve got,” Asia replied.

“Good,” Vanessa said, feeling a twinge of disappointment, but mostly relief. “Can we call it a day? I don’t feel well.”

Asia nodded, smiling empathetically, before informing Michelle, who seemed less overjoyed at the news but willing to go with it.

“Change of plans! That’s a wrap for the day, everyone. Thanks for your hard work — see you all tomorrow,” Michelle announced and the room let out a collective applause at the early finish.

Brooke gave Vanessa a confused glance; there was a redness behind her eyes, but Vanessa refused to let herself care about that right now. She stormed off set, sad and pissed as hell and determined to stop seeing the good in Brooke once and for all.

—

“Brooke, you have got to — and I can’t stress this enough — get your shit together.”

Nina barged in through her front door — an action that initially alarmed Brooke, who’d forgotten how she’d given Nina a spare key — and she was already chastising her before she could even reach the living room.

“Nice to see you too, Nina, thank you so much for knocking,” Brooke’s words dripped with sarcasm.

“Brooke — I’m serious.”

“What did I do now?” Brooke pondered out loud, far more interested in the large tub of chocolate ice cream she was indulging herself in. She was relaxing on the couch, buried in blankets, with Henry and Apollo laying dutifully at her feet.

“I’ve just been on the phone with Ra’jah O’Hara,” Nina said, Brooke receiving the news with a blank expression.

“Who?”

“Vanessa Mateo’s manager. She claims that her client is threatening to quit the movie because of your behaviour.”

“What?!” Brooke almost gagged on her dessert. “She wouldn’t. She didn’t.”

“Okay, fine, she didn’t,” Nina conceded. “But she did tell Ra’jah to tell me to tell you that, just to see your reaction. Which was a let down, may I say. It seems like you know Vanessa better than she thinks.”

“Well, you didn’t exactly commit to the lie,” Brooke added. “Is that all?”

Nina took a deep, weary sigh and poured herself a glass of wine from the bottle that stood open on the coffee table. Brooke thought about how the culpability would be her own if Nina began ageing rapidly in the next few weeks.

“I did hear about what happened today when you guys had to kiss. Brooke, you had her up against the wall? And then lashed out at her for losing control?”

“God, I was such an asshole,” Brooke professed, hating herself even more after hearing it back.

“Just tell me why,” Nina asked.

“Because it was a fucking good kiss.”

Nina wasn’t appeased by this answer.

“I did assume that much. But taking it out on Vanessa? You can’t go around treating people like shit just because you can’t handle your emotions.” Brooke understood that Nina was right, as much as it stung to hear the truth.

“I know. It’s gone too far,” Brooke agreed, her voice smaller than ever. “I just really don’t want to be attracted to her.”

“Don’t worry about that for the moment,” Nina instructed her. “I think you have a phone call to make.”

—

Vanessa went straight home after Friday’s shoot; she didn’t even feel up to seeing A’keria and Silky, knowing that that conversation would only end in a shit ton of tears on her behalf. She ignored a bunch of texts from the both of them, throwing her phone back into the depths of her purse.

But still, Matt was there. Of course he was.

He pulled her into a hug and didn’t seem to detect the tenseness in her shoulders.

“Good day?” he asked chirpily.

“No,” Vanessa said, too drained to even make up some bullshit story that told him otherwise.

“Why not, honey?”

“Brooke’s just being a cunt,” she complained as her boyfriend winced at the cussing. “I just wanna go to bed.”

“How so? I thought you two had stopped this whole nonsense,” Matt continued to probe.

“I don’t know, I guess our kiss scene got a bit too steamy and she basically blamed it all on me even though she totally instigated it,” Vanessa explained carelessly. Matt was stunned.

“Does she have a crush on you or something?”

“What? No,” Vanessa forced out a laugh.

“Are you sure? Because you two are so fucking obsessed with each other, I just keep thinking, surely there’s some sexual tension there. But then I realise you wouldn’t do that to me. You wouldn’t string me along like some shit on your shoe if deep down, it’s not me you want. Right?”

Vanessa could tell that Matt was trying to keep his questioning tone light, trying to pretend like he didn’t already know the answer to that, but he sounded more like a balloon about to go bang.

“Right now, I’m feelin’ like I don’t want either one of you.”

“Go fuck yourself, Vanessa. And that Hollywood slut while you’re at it,” Matt hissed.

“Don’t call her that,” Vanessa warned, her voice low.

“Just as I thought,” Matt simmered.

“You wanna take a step back and maybe think about how the fuck you’re talkin’ to me?”

Matt opened his mouth to reply, but Vanessa wasn’t interested.

“That’s rhetorical, bitch — save it. And I’m not staying here tonight.”

—

Brooke settled down in her bed at half midnight, clutching her phone in one hand and a small piece of paper, courtesy of Nina, in the other. She’d spent all evening going over what she was going to say, but maybe part of her left it so late in hopes that Vanessa wouldn’t pick up. She knew it was a conversation they would have to have eventually, but Brooke questioned whether it was better suited to another day, when the wounds weren’t so fresh. She had no idea how Vanessa was going to react, after all.

However, she trusted that Ra’jah wouldn’t have passed the number along if it weren’t in her best interests to call Vanessa ASAP. And the possibility that Brooke had pushed them back to square one made her blood run cold, as much as she felt she deserved to have Vanessa damning her name and despising her very existence all over again.

Of course, texting was also an option. But Brooke longed for Vanessa to hear firsthand how sincere she was. How Brooke knew she had fucked up, but that there was nothing she wanted less than their relationship regressing further.

She dialled the number, and it rang a few times, before connecting the call.

“Hi — Vanessa, don’t hang up,” Brooke whispered.

“…Brooke?” Her voice was rough; Brooke thought she might’ve been crying. She wasn’t sure which was the better possibility; that she something else was the source of her pain, or that it was Brooke herself.

“Are… are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Vanessa said, her words concise but without malice.

“Look, I just want to say sorry. For today. I let the kiss escalate and it was totally unfair of me to put that all on you. It wasn’t even a big deal, I shouldn’t have overreacted. I’m really sorry.”

“It’s not like I tried to stop you, girl.” Brooke supposed that was true. Vanessa had kissed her back with an intensity that had made her almost wonder —

What If.

Which was insane. She had a boyfriend, and as far as Brooke knew, they were perfectly happy together. Vanessa was just a really great actress.

And Brooke could hear her voice edging towards forgiveness before she’d even had the chance to earn it and if she wasn’t sure of it already, she knew then that this woman was far too good for her.

“So are we, uh, cool? Relatively speaking, I mean,” Brooke double checked.

“I forgive you, and I’m sorry for my messiness, too. But we gotta stop going round in circles like this. I don’t wanna go in to work tomorrow and have you shut me out again, so we fight and you feel bad and I forgive you and it just keeps on repeatin’.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” It wasn’t enough; Brooke knew she had to prove that she wouldn’t fall back into the traps of her defence mechanisms.

“We have to change. Let’s start now,” she said confidently, wanting to demonstrate that she could properly open up to her co-star.

“Okay…” Vanessa trailed off.

“Tell me something about yourself,” Brooke requested. Vanessa giggled a little, sounding just as surprised as Brooke was at the turn in conversation, and it was almost like they were two regular friends swapping secrets at a sleepover.

“Hmm… oh, I’ve got one. I told Ra’jah to give you my number. So just know I could’ve made you work so much harder for that redemption, bitch.”

It wasn’t quite what Brooke had in mind, but she found herself laughing effortlessly anyway. Even though Vanessa was transparent, and she had already worked that one out.

“Not exactly personal, but it’s a start,” Brooke responded, smiling to herself in the darkness.

“What about you?” Vanessa deflected. Brooke bounced an idea around in her mind, contemplating whether she should be brave.

“Mine is: I don’t know if I ever hated you.”

“Bitch, you’re kidding. Tell me something true now, you gotta play by the rules.”

“I am telling the truth,” Brooke began to elaborate. “I mean, I didn’t exactly like you, sure, but there was always something else underneath all that.”

“Oh really?” Vanessa’s voice was quiet in disbelief. It was too much for Brooke, felt too intimate, somehow, despite the fact that the other woman was miles away.

“Yeah, I dunno. I think I was jealous of you, you’re so young and pretty and popular and all that jazz,” Brooke lied, scrunching her face up at how far it was from the facts.

“Oh.”

— was all Vanessa had to say to her, not thrilled despite the compliments Brooke had sent her way.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” Vanessa concluded.

“Yeah. I’m so sorry, again.”

“Thanks for calling, Brooke.”

“Goodnight, Vanessa.”

A soft “night” was all Brooke heard before the line went dead.

It had been a day. And still, as she tried to succumb to sleep, all Brooke’s mind could do was drift back to that kiss.

Brooke had shared many great kisses in her life, but there was a fire in that one unlike anything she had felt before. She could still envision every sensation; the sweet taste of Vanessa’s mouth, the scent of her intoxicating perfume, the warmth of her smooth skin brushing up against Brooke’s own; the addictive gasp she had let out as her back had made contact with the wall, too quiet for anyone else to have heard. She felt a heat pooling between her thighs at the memory; began to touch herself as she wished it were Vanessa’s fingers making her fall apart instead. When she came, it was with Vanessa’s name on her lips.

Nina was gonna have a field day once she clocked it, too — Brooke was in deep, and there was no coming up for air.

[crazy-little-cool-cat]

Hand in Glove - Chapter 12 | Ben Hardy x OFC

A/N: Oof! Well! After all the fluff, it was only logical for my chaotic self to eff. Shit. Up. SO! With that said, go grab a snack and some tea or beer (or whatever) and get situated. This one is going to be a long, bumpy ride! 

Word count: ~5.2K sorry not sorry

Warnings: Angst ahead! Read at your own risk! Also lots of swearing, funny bits, weird plot twists and AnGrY!Ben.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2,  Chapter 3,  Chapter 4,  Chapter 5,  Chapter 6,  Chapter 7,  Chapter 8,  Chapter 9,  Chapter 10,  Chapter 11

Annie’s phone has been blowing up since 9AM, when her PR team and Ben’s PR team issued a press release that the two are, indeed, expecting a baby. Although the message itself asked the world to respect their privacy, the Google alerts and endless comments on Instagram and Twitter posts wouldn’t cease. Fortunately for Annie, she was filming most of the day and never got a chance to hear her phone go off in her trailer. That is, until she went on her lunch break.

“Well, I guess it’s out, then.” Annie sighed as she put her phone on silent mode. Clara and Jamie smiled nervously. “That should put an end to those weight-gain articles, at least.”

“You couldn’t have kept it secret much longer, anyways, right?” Clara braided a lock of her hair, “with the baby bump growing and all.”

“It’ll be fine,” Jamie shrugged, poking at the food on his plate with his fork, “people love ‘Bennie’. Now they’ll have something new to obsess over.”

“Oh God,” Annie grimaced, “I hate that name.”

“It’s better than AnnaBen!” Clara’s voice lilted jokingly. “Or Bennabelle.”

“Will you two stop?” Annie dropped her cutlery and glared at the two.

“No.” They choired.

“I can’t wait for this season to wrap,” Annie muttered.

“Oh, don’t say that!” Jamie pulled Annie closer and kissed the top of her head, his arm lingers around her shoulder, “you’ll hurt my feelings.”

“As if you have any!”  

“Oh, damn!” Clara snickered, “that was cold, Annie.”

Jamie clutched his chest and sobbed theatrically, much to Annie’s amusement.

###

Gwil, Jamie and Joe stared intently at Ben, who was flagged down by a group of very good looking girls as he walked in the door after having a smoke out in the alley. One of the girls, a blonde, had her arms around Ben’s neck in a tight hug. She released him just enough to still have one hand on him, her head resting casually on his shoulder as she introduced him to her friends.

The girls all giggled and batted their eyes at him as they made small talk. The blonde handed Ben a shot and clinked her glass with his before they threw it back at the same time. Ben pointed at the booth where the guys were sitting and waiting for him. In a matter of seconds, Ben lead the girls over like the Pied Piper.

“Guys, this is Cassie!” Ben beamed and let the girls scoot themselves into the booth.

“Cassie?” Joe scoffed and cleared his throat, “Cassie! Nice to meet you!”

“Cass, this is Joe and Gwil, the guys from the movie,” Ben said, “and that’s Jamie. He’s Annie’s friend.”

“Who’s Annie?” Cassie snarled a little at the name.

“Ben’s girlfriend,” Gwil smirked, “the one he’s having a baby with.”

“Oh, shit,” Cassie snorted, “I thought that was just a rumour!”

“Nope,” Gwil popped the ‘p’.

“Ben, I’m so happy to see you again! I wasn’t expecting it to happen so soon!” Cassie flipped her hair and ignored the tall man.

“Again?” Joe raised an eyebrow but was overlooked by the humdrum of conversation and music.

###

“What are you doing, mate?” Gwil’s jaw tightened as his tongue rolled under his teeth.

Ben looked at his two best friends. His lips were slightly parted, his brows knit together. A drunken blush washed over his cheeks and nose. He definitely had a bit too much.

“Don’t give us that look.” Joe’s face was just as stern. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Having a drink with my mates?”

“That’s how it started off, yeah,” Gwil’s eyes burned holes into Ben, “then what happened, you drunk twat?”

“I ran into Cassie and some of her mates?”

“And brought them over,” Jamie quipped, swallowing a burp, “thanks for that.”

“At least someone in this table appreciates me!” Ben mumbled.

“Ben, what the fuck are you doing with your ex?” Joe’s hands waved about. “Especially when she’s walking around looking like… That!”

“Nothing!”

“You were with her for eight years.”

“And it ended, and now I’m with Annie.”

“Who is very pregnant with your baby,” Gwil snapped, “in case you forgot.”

“I didn’t!”

“Then what the fuck, Ben?”

“I was just being friendly!”

“She was all over you!” Joe’s voice rose in pitch.

“She’s just a handsy person, okay?”

“And what was it she said about seeing you again so soon?” Joe was relentless.

“I bumped into her when I was away in New York a few weeks ago -”

“Well, that’s just great!” Joe slammed one hand on the table’s surface, “what a fun coincidence!”

“Did you tell Annie about it?” Gwil pinched the bridge of his nose.

“No! There’s nothing to tell!”

Gwilym, Joe and Jamie looked at Ben, expressionless. Ben felt like he was under attack. His knee started bouncing anxiously as he cracked his knuckles.

“Let’s get you home,” Joe squinted at Ben, “you’ve had enough fun for tonight.”

###

“Fuck!” Ben hissed as he hit his shoulder against the door frame.

In his very inebriated state, he seemed to miscalculate every single step and turn he took in his own flat. There wasn’t a corner he didn’t run into, an item he hadn’t kicked over or knocked down, or a squeaky toy he hadn’t stepped on. As if the universe wanted Annie to know exactly how drunk he was. 

He rubbed his eyes groggily and groaned when the bedroom lights flicked on. Annie sat up, leaning against the headboard, wiggling her toes nervously.

“Hello,” she picked at the skin around her fingernail nervously under the comforter, “did you have a good time tonight?”

“Yeah,” Ben stumbled over to the bed and face-planted onto the mattress. He lifted his head with a sly grin. “didn’t expect you to be up so late.”

“I was asleep,” Annie could feel her voice falter and blamed the hormones for making her act like this, “but then I got a bazillion texts from Jamie.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“What’d he want?”

“To show me this.” Annie reached over to the nightstand and tapped on the screen, revealing a picture of Ben with his arms around the prettiest, fittest girl she had ever seen. She shoved the phone into Ben’s face. “Made a new friend?”

“Wouldn’t call 'er new…” Ben mumbled drunkenly. He propped himself up on his hands and knees and sat back on his haunches.  

“Swipe away,” Annie challenged him, “there’s more.”

The next picture was Ben clinking glasses with the blonde girl. The next one was him beaming at her. The next one showed her resting her head on Ben’s shoulder, her palm flat on his chest, her arm around him. Ben’s hand was on the small of the blonde girl’s back, dangerously low.

“Fuck Jamie…”

“No, no,” Annie snatched her phone back, “fuck you.”

“Annie, this is not -”

“What it looks like?”

“I can -”

“Explain?”

“Will you let me finish one fucking sentence?”

“Go ahead!” Annie raised her hands in mock surrender.

“That’s Cassie.”

“Cassie?” Annie scoffed, “as in, your-ex-girlfriend-whom-you-were-supposed-to-marry, Cassie?”

“Yep.”

“The swimsuit model?”

“Uh huh.”

“What the fuck, Ben?!”

“I ran into her!” Ben crawled over and grabbed Annie’s hands in his, “I had no idea she’d be there. She saw me, called me over, we had some shots, I brought her and her friends to the table to meet the guys.”

“So you hung out with a swimsuit model you were madly in love with while I just sat here with my fat ass, all alone?”

“Your ass isn’t fat,” Ben wrapped one hand around the back of Annie’s neck and pressed his forehead to hers, “it’s perfect. You’re perfect. I don’t care about her.”

“Why is she here?”

“I don’t know,” Ben shrugged gently, “I don’t care.”

“Will you see her again?”

“Probably.”

“Were you planning to tell me you saw her tonight?”

“No, because there’s nothing to tell.” Ben felt Annie relax under his touch. “But I promise I will tell you from now on.”

###

Ben met up with Cassie almost every other day over the span of two weeks. He swore she just “happened” to be everywhere he went until he was blue in the face. 

She even met Annie once, and it did not go well. Cassie looked at Annie as if she smelled something rotten, and Annie looked at Cassie as if she would skin her alive and tear her apart, limb from limb.

That night, however, Annie was in a great mood. Her show finished filming and the customary ‘wrap-party’ was just the kind of fun Annie needed. For once, she’ll be around the people she sees every single day in her own clothing, and not dressed as the mistress-turned-queen-of-England.

“Ready to go?”

Annie adjusted her burgundy maternity dress one last time, gave a small tap to her bump and slid into her black ballerina styled flats.

“Ready!” she smiled at Jamie as he helped her into her coat, “thanks for doing this, by the way.”

“Honestly,” Jamie offered her his arm, “I wouldn’t want to take anyone else to this party as my date.”

“I’d be mortified if I had to go alone,” Annie laughed half-heartedly, “can you imagine the gossip it would have generated?”

“Ben’s absence will generate gossip either way.”

“Yes, but at least I have you to use as a human shield, now.”

“Where is Ben, anyways?”

“Filming and coming down with a bad cold,” Annie pouted, “he looked so miserable this morning.”

“That’s a shame.”

###

“Quite a turnout, huh?” Clara bumped her hip with Annie’s playfully, “sucks that Gwil and Ben couldn’t come.”

“Oh?” Annie groaned internally and rolled her eyes before turning around with the fakest smile she could muster, facing her director. “No Ben?”

“No,” Annie clenched her fists, “he’s filming.”

“Let’s hope that’s all there is to it,” the director tried to conceal his shit-eating grin behind his drink, “because I’ve seen who he’s been spending time with recently and -”

“Hey!” Jamie seemed to materialise out of thin air. He wrapped a protective arm around Annie and glared at his director. They stared at each other for a few seconds before the director lowered his eyes and huffed. 

“Anyhoo, enjoy the party!” the director left with a sour look on his face. 

“That mother -”

“Annie, no!” Clara scolded her, “tonight is about having fun. No potty mouth!”

“But -”

“You heard me.”

“Come on,” Jamie pulled Annie to the dance floor, “dance with me!”

Annie felt like she could get drunk just from being in close proximity with Jamie, the alcohol was so evident in his breath. Their dancing went unnoticed at first, while the songs were upbeat. They moved in perfect sync. Jamie serenaded Annie’s baby bump, twirled her, showed her his ‘sick’ dance moves. 

It was all fun and games until the DJ put a slower song on, and the director’s voice came booming through the speakers, inviting the king and queen to dance. Jamie bowed theatrically at Annie as the dance floor cleared. With a gentle curtsy and a playful smile, Annie let Jamie know that she’s ready to play her part again. With her hand in his, they walked to the centre of the dance floor, laughing sheepishly when the party-goers started applauding and cheering for them.

Jamie turned Annie to face him and placed his hand on the small of her back, the other still holding her hand. Annie reached up and put her hand on the back of his neck, mindlessly toying with the hair at the nape as they swayed along to the song. A photographer ran circles around them, catching them from every possible angle.

“I know it’s a total cliche,” Jamie spoke over the music, “but you really are glowing.”

“It’s just the lights in here,” Annie scrunched up her nose, “and the make up I have caked on my face.”

“You know,” Jamie leaned down, so he could talk to Annie without shouting, “if I didn’t know any better, this could be our wedding.”

“Fortunately, you do know better!” Annie winked and giggled. She leaned back a little and pressed a chaste kiss to Jamie’s cheek. “We’re not in that place anymore, right?”

Jamie licked his lips and sighed, happy to have other people join them on the floor. He kissed the top of Annie’s head and twirled her again, his eyes scanning every curve of her body.

“Is it okay if we stepped outside for a minute?” Jamie cocked his head sideways at the glass doors, “I kind of need to talk to you.”

“Sure,” Annie shrugged and hooked her arm in his. Once they were in their coats and standing outside, she raised her eyebrows.

“I think you should leave Ben.”

Annie blinked, her lips parting as she exhaled sharply. “What?”

“It’s not working out, Annie.” Jamie’s voice was calm, almost as if what he had just said made perfect sense. “You shouldn’t be with Ben.”

Annie started laughing. It was small bursts of laughter at first, but it quickly turned into maniacal howling. Tears started forming in her eyes.

“You know I’m right.”

“You realise that I’m pregnant?” Annie bit her lips to stop herself from laughing hysterically again, “this -” she waved her hand back and forth between her and Jamie, “isn’t going to happen.”

“I’m aware of the baby, yes,” Jamie retorted, “but he’s not right for you.”

“Who the fuck are you to decide?!”

“I’m your best friend!”

“Are you? Really?” Annie scoffed, “because last time I checked, best friends don’t tell their best fucking friends to leave the person they’re having a baby with!”

“Annie, just hear me out, okay?” Jamie clasped his hands together, “he should have been here with you tonight. He’s not here.”

“He’s working!”

“He’s out every other night with ‘the guys’ and his ex conveniently shows up? Every goddamn time?” Jamie smiled triumphantly when Annie snapped her mouth shut. “Don’t you find that a bit weird?”

“Joe’s shagging her mates, Jamie!” Annie quipped, “no, it’s not weird! It makes sense!”

“Did he tell you he ran into her in New York?”

“What are you on about?”

“When he was in New York. He ran into Cassie there.” Annie just seethed quietly, trying to make sense of the tornado wracking her brain. “Annie, just answer me one question.”

“What?”

“When we broke up,” Jamie crossed his arms, shifting his weight from one leg to the other, “you basically vowed to never date an actor again.”

“That’s not a question.”

“Why are you with Ben, really?”

“Oh.” Annie laughed bitterly and stepped back. “Just get to the point, Jamie. I’m this -” she held up her index finger and her thumb, almost touching, “-close to punching your dick and leaving.”

“You won’t do that.” Jamie scoffed and lowered his hands to his groin when Annie’s eyes darted down. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

“Yeah,” Annie started walking away to the valet stand, “I’m leaving. Don’t talk to me. Ever. Again.”

“I’m not done yet!”

“Oh? You’re not?” Annie turned around, “what is it then?” she cradled her bump, finding comfort in it, “what did you want to say?!”

“Anything he has - so do I. Fancy car, gym, cool flat.” Jamie’s hands were on his hips, “anything he does - I can, too. I know you like he never will.”

“Is that what you want to say?” Annie laughed, “that you’re jealous of Ben?”

“You know that’s not what I said.”

“Well, tell me, then!”

“Look me in the eyes and tell me you no longer have any feelings for me. That you don’t love me. At all.”

“Sorry, Jamie. You don’t know me.” She shrugged. “I love you, you’re my best friend. But the way you love me? That’s not the same kind of love.”

###

It was half past midnight when Annie shut the door to her and Ben’s flat behind her and heaved a sigh of relief. She kicked off her shoes and raked her fingers through her hair. Her ears were ringing. 

She walked into the bedroom to find Ben on the phone, giggling like an idiot. When their eyes met, Ben’s jaw fell at her appearance.

“Yeah, I’ll talk to you later…” he seemed breathless. “Yeah, I know.”

Annie rolled her eyes and walked over to the bathroom. She was quickly followed by Ben, phone still glued to his ear.

“No, no,” Ben snaked an arm from behind her, pulling her closer to him. Annie turned her head to the side, melting into Ben’s kiss. “No, yeah, we can do that.”

She assumed it was Joe and Ben’s nightly phone call and carried on with her bedtime routine, brushing her teeth. Ben’s hand found it’s way to her bum, giving it a squeeze and a playful smack.

“Yeah, can we talk about this some other time? Bit busy.” Ben mouthed ‘sorry’ through the mirror. “Bye, Cass.”

Annie turned around so fast, she got dizzy. Bracing herself on the bathroom counter, she felt physically sick.

“What?” Ben asked as he shoved the phone in his hoodie’s pocket.

“Cassie?” Annie spat her name out, “you were on the phone with Cassie?”

“Yeah, she called.”

“Of course she did.”

“You’re home early,” Ben changed the subject, sensing that Annie’s temper was about to make a surprise appearance, “did you have fun at the party?”

“Why are you spending so much time with Cassie?”

“I don’t have much of a choice, really,” Ben laughed, “Joe’s determined to shag all of her friends before they go back to New York.”

“Are you joking?” Annie snorted, “that’s your excuse?”

“Annie, I’m allowed to have female friends.”

“I never said you weren’t!”

“Then what is this all about?”

“She’s your ex. She’s the ex.” Annie pushed him aside and walked out of the bathroom. Ben followed her again, helping her with the zipper on her dress. “I’m not okay with you spending so much time around her.”

“That’s not fair.”

“What?”

“This isn’t fair, Annie.”

“Excuse me?” Annie pulled Ben’s t-shirt over her and sat on her side of the bed, “it’s not fair?”

“No, it’s not fair.” Ben started pacing around the room, “I’ve had to see you with Jamie since day one.”

“We work together!”

“You could have kept it strictly professional, Annie.” Ben pointed out. “Considering the history you two have.” Annie shook her head, fighting back tears, as she grabbed her pillow from the bed and pulled out a blanket from the closet. “But you had to shove him in my face every single day. Where are you going?!”

“I’m not sleeping in this bed tonight.” Annie’s voice faltered. “And never have I been more grateful to go on vacation than I am right now.”

“Vacation?”

“Yeah, didn’t I tell you? I’m going on a trip with Clara. We leave tomorrow.” Annie snarled. “Must’ve slipped my mind. Just like your little reunion with Cassie in New York slipped yours!”

###

When the show Annie was on almost finished filming, Annie was nearing the end of five months of pregnancy. Dr. McCarthy told her that if she wanted to travel, this would be the perfect time to get it out of her system.

It was only natural for Annie, as soon as she found out about the new restriction, to notify Clara that they were going on a girl’s trip. They planned ahead and decided it would be best to head out the morning after the wrap party. They rented a small house down in Truro, so Clara could visit her family there without having to stay at her old childhood home.

Annie was 90% sure she told Ben about it long before their fight. Gwilym knew about the trip, for sure. Annie kept repeating her new mantra: ‘I might have pregnancy brain, but if Gwil knew, Ben knew too.’ Clara was growing tired of it.

“Annie, it could have slipped your mind,” Clara quipped, “you’re sharing it with Bumpy now. It wouldn’t be far-fetched.”

“That’s a lame thing to say,” Annie pouted, “but really, I’m sure that if Gwil knew, he would have told Ben?”

“Not if he assumed you would tell him yourself.”

“Fuck!” Annie hissed.

“Annie, if I have to hear about this the entire time we’re stuck on this train -”

“Fine!” shifted in her seat, feeling a bit squeezed up, “talk about something else then.”

“Alright,” Clara huffed, “Jamie.”

“Talk about something else.”

“Nope,” Clara raised her eyebrows, “I fucking told you so.”

“Here we go.”

“Annie, what did you think would happen?” Clara tried to keep her voice as low as possible, but she really just wanted to roar at Annie, “you have just as much fault in this as he does!”

“Excuse me?”

“You led him on!”

“I’m sure my pregnant belly was very enticing!”

“Sass all you want,” Clara shrugged, clearly unimpressed, “but you knew this would happen.”

“I did not -”

“Yes, you did!” Clara interrupted her. “He thought he was slick and sneaky, but I saw right through it. You saw it, too.” Clara poked her pinky up in the air. “The way he looked at you?” her ring finger popped up next, “the fact that he got to kiss you and grope you every single day, pretending to be your husband?” her middle finger joined the other two, “all the PDA between the two of you?” up came the index finger, “his sudden friendship with Ben?”

“Clara…”

“Shut up, I’m not done with this hand and I have a whole other hand as well!”

“I get it, okay?” Annie’s nostrils flared a little, “I get it. I needed to draw the line and I didn’t.”

“He tried to swoop in while you’re pregnant with another man’s child.”

“I’m aware of that.”

“As much as I love him,” Clara lowered her hand, “I hate him more than anything on this earth right now.”

“Me too.”

“I’ll bet Ben does, too.”

“He never liked him in the first place.”

###

Although Annie wasn’t hiding away this time, Ben felt absolutely lost without her around. They FaceTimed at least once every day and he stalked her Instagram to see what she’s up to. His heart sank when he saw her carefree smile in each picture or her silly antics in Clara’s stories. He couldn’t ignore the fact that no matter how cordial she was with him on the phone, telling him all about her exciting days in and around Truro, she was still cold and distant.

To make matters worse, Cassie wouldn’t leave him alone. At first he still kept her close as petty ‘revenge’ for how Annie acted the night before she left. He’d tell Annie what he and the boys were up to and casually mention Cassie’s presence there, just to see his girlfriend fuming. 

He liked giving Annie a taste of her own medicine, but the novelty wore off rather fast. His satisfaction turned into guilt. He didn’t need the guys to tell him what he’s doing is wrong - which they did, regardless - and the more he saw Cassie, the less he saw Jamie around. That just added even more fuel to his guilty fire.

“Oh, God,” Clara froze in front of the telly, where Jamie was shown flipping off photographers and shouting profanities, “fucking hell. He’s at it, again.”

“Clara, could you turn that down, please?” Annie poked her head out of the bedroom she claimed for herself when they arrived a few days earlier, “I’m on the phone!”

“Tell Ben I said hi!” Clara replied sweetly and lowered the volume.

Annie closed the door softly and sat down on her bed, half-listening to Ben’s stories about Joe’s wigs while Joe yelled his commentary in the background.

“So, anyways, Joe’s all pissy about the hair situation.” Ben laughed softly. “Have you heard about Jamie?”

“I actually have no fucks left to give about Jamie…” Annie muttered.

“That’s not a very nice thing to say, Annie.” Ben’s frown was practically audible. “Remember, Bumpy can hear you.”

“You’d say the same if you knew…” Annie’s voice drifted slightly when she realised she’d never told Ben about her chat with Jamie.

“If I knew what?” Ben’s words caught Joe’s attention. “Annie?”

“At the wrap party,” Annie closed her eyes and held her breath, “he told me I should leave you and be with him.” Annie waited for Ben to growl or yell or say anything. The silence was deafening. “Ben?”

“He did what?”

“Told me to leave you and be with him.” Annie exhaled, relieved that Ben finally spoke. “I told him to fuck off.”

“Considering that’s my baby you’re carrying, I’d be a lot angrier if you hadn’t!”

“Ben, it’s fine. I told him to fuck off and -”

“It’s not fine.” Ben spoke through gritted teeth, alarming Joe.

“It really is, I’ll just keep my distance until the next season’s filming and -”

“I gotta go.”

“What? Where?”

“This isn’t okay. I’m not okay.” Ben got up from the sofa and went to the front door, stepping into his sneakers and grabbing his keys. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

###

“Have you seen this?” Annie power-walked over to Clara at the boutique they were in, “look!”

It’s been two days since Annie told Ben about what Jamie had said. She tried to call Ben but he was either too busy or just asleep, so most of their communication was through texting. Annie couldn’t help but wonder if what she had said made Ben realise just how big of a mess she is. She was terrified that he was going to cheat on her with his ex. For all she knew, Cassie was still very much around.

Annie shoved her phone in Clara’s face, her entire body shaking. Clara gasped and pried the phone out of her hands, zooming in on the photo. It was Jamie, and he looked like an entire herd of elephants ran over his face.

“What the fuck?!” Clara cried out and slapped her hand over her mouth when she realised they were in public. “What happened?!”

“I don’t know!” Annie was blabbering hysterically, “Ben hasn’t spoken to me, really, since I told him what Jamie said and -”

“Oh, blimey.”

“What?” Annie couldn’t help but giggle, knowing Clara only used ‘blimey’ when the situation was truly horrible, “you think Ben did that?”

“I’m willing to bet my money on it.”

“He wouldn’t!”

“I’m pretty sure he would.”

“He’s not violent!” Annie tried not to laugh but she couldn’t help it. “No way!”

“50 quid says he did.”

“You’re on.”

###

“Are you even listening, mate?” Gwil snapped his fingers in Ben’s face. “Enough with the phone! Let Annie have her fun on the trip! You’re obsessed!”

“I haven’t spoken to her in three days!” Ben waved his hand in front of his face to shoo Gwil’s snappy fingers, “and she finally texted back after I missed her call this morning!”

“Ben, you’ve been checking your phone the entire bloody day.” Gwil held the trailer door open for his friend, shaking his head, “I’m pretty sure your body accepted it as a new organ by now.”

“Sod off,” Ben shot back, “I’d like to see you stay so cool and calm when someone tries to steal your girl.”

“He wouldn’t dare come near any of our girls ever again!” Gwilym chuckled. “Will you at least leave your phone alone while you drive?”

“Fine!”

“Atta boy.”

“Tosser.”

“Love you too!”

With an eyeroll, Ben opened his car’s door and flopped into the driver’s seat. Just as he placed his phone in its’ docking station, Annie’s face popped up on the screen. Ben immediately took the call.

“Finally!” Ben slapped his hands on the wheel and started the car, “my God this bloody game of phone tag!”

“Oh, don’t be such a baby,” Annie scoffed, “I’m allowed to be busy, too!”

“Three days, Annie!”

“I’m on vacation, Ben! I was busy!”

“Three fucking days!”

“Don’t act like you sat around and waited for me to call,” Annie mumbled, “how’s Cassie doing?”

“Cassie?” Ben looked at the phone in confusion, “how the hell would I know?”

“Hanging out with her all the time might’ve given you a clue,” Annie sounded irritated, “don’t act daft.”

“Annie, I told Cassie to fuck off.”

“Of course you did.”

“I’m serious.”

“When?”

“Right after I beat Jamie’s face and turned it into a pulp.”

“Oh, Jesus fucking Christ, Ben!” Annie groaned, “you didn’t actually do that!”

“Oh, I did.”

“You stupid twat!” Annie felt like screaming and punching a wall, “you’re unbelievable!”

“Are you actually mad at me for doing what I should have done months ago?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Do you care about Jamie that much that you’re actually mad at me for kicking his arse after what he did?”

“What?!” Annie clenched her fist, “no! I couldn’t give a flying fuck about Jamie or his face!”

“Then what are you so riled up about?!”

“You just cost me 50 quid, Ben!”

“What are you talking about?”

“Never mind.” Annie closed her eyes, “why did you tell Cassie to fuck off?”

“Because I don’t care about her.” Ben’s voice softened. “I shouldn’t have had her stick around as long as she did. I shouldn’t have kept seeing her in New York from you, too.”

“Why did you, then?”

“I don’t know.” Ben bit his bottom lip. “You know I’ll do anything for you, right? Only you.”

“Only me?”

“I mean, yeah,” Ben chuckled, “and Bumpy and Frankie. But you come first.”

“I know.”

“I need to see you, Annie.” Ben sighed, “I’m shattered and lonely and I can’t sleep without you here and -”

“You know where I am, Ben,” Annie smirked, “I’ll leave the light on.”

“Well,” Ben smiled to himself as he drove, “guess I’m not going home tonight.”

###

“Meet me outside your building in 20,” Ben barked at the phone, “pack an overnight bag.”

“What?” Gwil’s face was scrunched up in confusion as he wrapped a towel around his waist, raising his voice so Ben will hear him over the speaker phone, “what are you on about?”

“You heard me. Meet me down outside your building in 20, bring a bag.”

Ben hung up on Gwil just as he started ranting and shoved a change of clothes into his backpack. Moving to the kitchen, he took out a plastic container and filled it with dog food. A very confused Frankie came scrambling into the kitchen, cocking her head curiously.

“We’re going to see mum, Franks.” Ben explained, “go get bunny.”

Frankie hurried off to find her favourite toy while Ben grabbed a quick glass of water and a protein bar. Hurrying to the door, he grabbed Frankie’s leash and marched down the hall to the elevator, pressing the button furiously.

When he reached the garage level he and Frankie piled into the car and drove off. Within 20 minutes, he was parked at the curb outside Gwil’s building, rolling down his window.

“What the fuck, Ben?” Gwil called as he walked over to the car.

“Get in, loser,” Ben cocked his head back a bit, “we’re going to give our girls some love down in Truro.”

“Did you really just call me a loser?”

TAGLIST: @ramibaby @xgoingdownx @clara-who @violetpond @sweeterthancheese @drummerqueenrmt @westansstuff @rogerinamainbitch @justgivemethekeys  @blondecarfucker @cheeseedreams47 @rogerspoison @deacy-dearest @pinkmarvel @onceuponadetectivedemigod​ @darcyshire

[fionnmeetsharry]

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEAAAAAAAAAASE DO A FIONN ONE WHERE Y/N IS A MAKEUP ARTIST ON SET AND SHE HAS TO FOLLOW HIM TO HIS SCENES TO TOICH UP HIS MAKEUP EVERY TAKE AND HE LIKES HER BUT DOENAT SAY ANYTHING UNTIL SOMEONE TELLS HIM TO GO FOR IT OML I LOVE SHY FIONN CAN THIS PLEASE TAKE PLACE ON DUNKIRK

Artist & Actor••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••Word count: 1690••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••“Tom sit still for goodness sakes, I swear you are worse than a dog”.

This was the 5th time you had scolded Tom in the last 30 minutes, he was severely sea sick so you were doing your best to add some color to his face.

“I’m sorry Y/N, I forget that you’re doing my makeup and well sometimes you just have to move”.

You stop what you’re doing to look at the only other person in the trailer with you and Tom. He’s a boy about your age with dark hair and soft looking pale skin. He had been staring at the two of you since you finally got Tom to sit in your chair. Tom didn’t understand why you had to “cake on” so much “stuff” as he put it.

“Tom, I’m almost done with your foundation then all I have to do is contour you”.

Toms eyes got big at the word he didn’t know, plus the fact that he had to sit in your chair for a bit longer. He was beginning to pout like a little boy.

“But Y/N, you’ve been doing this for hours”.

He said dramatically as your rolled your eyes and grabbed the bronzer.

“It’s been 35 minutes”. You said dryly now applying highlighter.

“Ok you’re done you can go”.

Tom quickly jumped out of the chair quickly running past you and slapping the brown haired boy on the butt as he passed.

Laughing the boy turned and faced you standing up a bit straighter, turning shy.

“Umm… you are Y/N, right?”

He must be one of yours, you were assigned to 3 people’s hair, makeup, and costumes. There were a total of 6 makeup, hair, and costume assistants on set, two of them being assigned to the main cast along with you and the other three all had to handle the extras.

“Uh yea, and what might your name be?”

Shyly smiling at you a small dimple popped in his cheek, making him impossibly cuter than before. You knew this was your job and you had to keep things professional, but it was getting difficult with how attractive the cast was.

“It’s Fionn, I think Um…I think I’m one of yours”.

Ok the whole cast was attractive, but this one, you already knew it would be hard to stay away from this one.

“Yes you are, along with Harry and Tom, but don’t let Tom scare you away from me, I’m not as bad as he made me out to be a few moments ago, he just really can’t sit still. It’s nice to meet you by the way Fionn”.

You held your hand out to shake his, the boy stretched his arm out to meet your hand, but his eyes were looking everywhere but at you.

“Well let’s get started shall we. Today I’m just going to apply some basic foundation and that’s all … looks like you have pretty good skin so you don’t need much”.

Fionn took a seat in your chair while you pulled out a new clean beauty blender and the foundation. You placed about a nickel size drop into your metal bowl and wet your beauty blender before dipping it in, then lightly bouncing the sponge off of his soft skin, making sure to get full coverage. “Actually looks like you have Freckles, they fit well with your features, I like them, especially with your dark hair and hazel eyes”.

You didn’t know why you were telling him this, but it was like you couldn’t stop yourself. It was true though, and he was beautiful.

“You know you don’t talk nearly as much as Tom does, kinda refreshing actually, although you do have a nice voice, calm and deep”.

You suddenly stop applying the makeup. Had you really said that? It was true but he didn’t need to know how you felt about the voice you’ve only heard twice or his skin.

You can see his cheeks have turned bright red, bright enough to show through your work. Great, now you were both flustered. As the heat in your cheeks remained you quickly cleared your throat and started on his hair.

“So…um, I’ll just be adding a bit of Oil to your hair, to give it the effect that it hasn’t been washed in a while and then you’re done”. Please, please, please don’t let him have soft hair too or you may melt into a puddle right there. Sliding your fingers through his dark hair you had to bite your tongue, because just as suspected, it was indeed soft, perfect actually.

His eyes met yours in the mirror,

“Already? But, it took you at least 45 minutes on Tom”.

Fionn looked back at the ground like he previously was. He didn’t mean to make it seem like he wanted to be in there with you longer than necessary, but he did.

“Well that’s because you’re good and sit in you’re seat while I work. You don’t wiggle the whole time and ask if I’m done yet like you’re 5”.

He chuckled, it was true though, Ton did do all of those things, Fionn should know he was standing there.

Fionn ended up in the makeup trailer 45 minutes early because he was mesmerized by the gorgeous girl he had seen on set previously that day. She had the most beautiful and unique look about her from her hair to her skin.

Fionn hadn’t even realized that you had finished his hair because he was so caught up in daydreaming. He was staring the whole time, but you were too busy to notice.

“Alright, you’re done for now but I will be with you, Harry, and Tom throughout the day for touch ups”.

Fionn smirked at you, fiddling with the shirt tail of his uniform.

“You mean I have to share you…can’t just have you all to myself?”

“No unfortunately not. Trust me, you’re the best out of the bunch, would much rather just have you”.

“Ay love, that’s not very nice”.

Harry entered the trailer with only half his uniform on and a goofy but charming smirk.

“Harry what happened to your two shirts and your jacket?”

“Ummm well, the first shirt you see I accidentally got it caught on something when I fell and it tore, and the second, I’m not sure really. Honestly I was just tired of wearing a shirt, took it off somewhere, but I don’t remember where”.

Rolling you’re eyes, you feel like you’re babysitting with the way Harry loses things, and Tim can’t sit still.

“Ok…ok, I’ll go find you some new shirts, but when I get back your butt had better be in that chair and ready for me to cover your tattoos and do your hair”.

“Yes ma’am”.

Harry saluted you as he sat down swiftly. Walking off to the back to retrieve him more clothes, you began to massage your temples, mumbling to yourself,

“God this is going to be a long month”.

But you couldn’t help to think that maybe Fionn would make it just a little more bearable.

“Ay mate I see you came back here to make a move after this morning. Let me guess, love at first sight”.

Fionn was just about done tying his shoes as Harry asked the question. Harry and Fionn were close, they’re always together on set, so of course Harry knows of the gorgeous girl from this morning.

“Shut up Harry she could hear you”.

Harry sat up a bit more in his chair, surprised that Fionn hadn’t made a move yet.

“C’mon mate, you have to do something, can’t just sit around all bloody month just staring. At least make conversation with her, compliment her or something”.

You arrived back in the room with two new shirts for Harry.

“Here, and try to be less clumsy and forgetful please, were running out of your size”.

Harry playfully rolled his eyes at you and kicked Fionn, signaling him to make a move.

“Uh so Y/N, how long have you been doing this?”

You were a bit stunned at the random question, but he asked it so sweetly and with his lovely voice that you didn’t question it.

Harry on the other hand, looked up at Fionn with disgust at his terrible attempt at flirting, laying his head in his hand.

“ This is actually my first movie, but I’ve been doing makeup since I was 13”.

“Me too! I…I mean this is my first movie too, not that I have been doing make up since I was 13… cause I haven't… done makeup, ever actually”.

You could see how flustered he was getting. God he was cute when he was flustered.

This whole conversation pained Harry even more than before, but he could tell you liked Fionn too. You were smiling and being too polite. You were flirting.

“Yea I knew what you meant”.

The two of you laughed while you began pulling out what you needed for Harry.

“Well I guess I better head to set, it was nice meeting you Y/N”.

“Likewise”.

After Fionn was gone Harry just kept staring at you like he knew something you didn’t.

“What?”

“Oh nothing, just that you two are going to end up married with children and I get to say that I witnessed your relationship from the beginning”.

Was it that obvious that you liked him? It doesn’t matter because this is a job, and you already promised yourself you would keep this professional.

“Y/N, it’s ok, I know about your stupid professional rule, but I think love is worth breaking rules over”.

You were now working on covering his many tattoos, and also trying to avoid eye contact. Harry was right, but it didn’t help that he was your best friend and knew everything yuh were thinking.

“So what, it’s just a crush, I’ll get over it”.

“S’not just a crush love, he’s got feelings too, and im going to get the two of you together so I can add some more godchildren to my list”.

THERE WILL BE MULTIPLE PARTS TO THIS!!💙

[avengeultrons]

Title: Midtown High’s Homecoming (Reader x Peter Parker)

Summary: The reader doesn’t plan on going to the dance, until Peter asks, of course.

Word Count: 1372

A/N: This is inspired by that perfect clip from the new trailer where peter rips his tie off and i scream so..I hope you enjoy! An 80s song that causes infectious dancing.

--

Midtown High’s very own homecoming dance was rapidly approaching, something you never thought you would find yourself at. Practically everyone was like you at the school of science and technology, smart and quiet. You all kept to your small, close knit groups and every day was almost the same.  Almost.

 Every day you would find your best friends in the lunchroom, and everyday the three of you would talk about the Spanish test or the surprise pop quiz in biology. But not on this day.

 “Peter has something to ask you!” Ned announced as you sat across from the two of them at the table, dropping your book bag onto the seat next to you. The two of them looked at each other and seemingly had a heated argument, all without speaking.

 You dumped your paper bag of lunch out on the table and raised an eyebrow, watching Peter’s face go crimson, “Ned! I…” he looked down at his milk carton, which he was having difficulty opening, and sighed. Ned nudged him with his elbow and got to his feet, taking his tray with him.

 “I’ll… be right back,” he said with a smile, giving Peter a reassuring pat on the back.

 You rolled your eyes at the two of them and grabbed a book out of your bag to flip through while you ate, “So, what's up? Is everything okay? You've been a bit missing in action recently, and you've been blowing off our study dates. Is there someone else?” you cracked a smile as you teased him, even if you had made up a person in your mind to be jealous of. Obviously that was what was going on; Peter was definitely running off to be with someone else instead of studying biology with you.

 “What? No, everything’s fine. I just…I’ve just been busy,” he shrugged, stabbing at the salad on his tray with one of the plastic forks that did a terrible job of being a fork, “I have a question, about homecoming?”

 Your cheeks turned red when he mentioned the dance coming up. To be honest, you were planning on not going, you thought Ned had snagged a date for each of them and had forgotten about you, “Would you maybe want to...I mean, we could go...do you want,” Peter was stumbling over his words and avoiding your gaze as you cut him off with a light laugh.

 “Yes, I’d love to go to homecoming with you,” you smiled, sighing in relief. Here you thought that Peter was hiding something or someone from you.

 A smile stretched across his face, so wide that it made your smile grow, “Great. I guess it's a date then,” his cheeks turned red when he said “date” which only made you giggle.

   That was how you found yourself at the annual homecoming dance after the big football game, in a dress that you had bought on a whim two years ago but never had the chance to wear. You'd even managed to intricately braid your hair into a sort of crown on your head.

 Everyone was dressed to impress and flooding the dance floor, the basketball court with a floor covering draped over so that heels wouldn't scuff the precious wood, making it impossible to move in some places.

 Midtown High had gone all out. The “under the sea” theme for homecoming was brought to the gym thanks to the student council, they hung blue and iridescent streamers and twinkly lights all over. Everything was blue and green to complete the look.

 “You look…” Peter’s face flushed pink when you finally located him in the sea of people, no pun intended, a small smile finding its way to his face as he looked at you, “beautiful.”

 You smiled and poured yourself a glass of punch, your cheeks heating up, “You don't look half bad, either,” you nudged him in the ribs with your elbow. That was the understatement of the year, of course. You knew Peter was cute and that your crush on him was sometimes unbearable during school hours, but Peter in a suit and tie?

 “Do you...would you like to dance?” Peter was both giddy and nervous, which only made you nervous as well. The two of you were best friends, but being each other’s dates to the dance somehow made everything feel different.

 You nodded and took Peter’s hand, the two of you anxiously stepping out to the dance floor like the two nervously awkward teens that you were.

 Your nerves melted away when one of your favorite songs started playing, a smile lighting up your face as you began to jump to the beat. It was an old, 80s song that caused infectious dance breaks and loud singing. Peter laughed and shook his head at you, joining in on the crazy dancing.

  It was a lot of dancing later when you stopped and smiled breathlessly, your face and neck glistening with sweat. The song changed to a slow song and the two of you locked eyes, your cheeks burning red. Peter gulped and smiled weakly, taking your hand in his, “That was a dramatic song change,” you said quietly, your hands resting on Peter’s shoulders while he nervously snaked an arm around your waist. You lay your head on his shoulder and sighed, embracing him in more of a hug while the two of you swayed to the music. Peter bit back a smile and hugged you a little tighter, jumping when his phone started blowing up.

 “I...I've gotta go,” Peter stepped back and stared down at his phone, his eyes wide. You furrowed your eyebrows at him, “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I've gotta go,” he repeated, speed walking off of the dance floor. You flagged Ned down and the two of you followed him, a nervous pit forming in your stomach.

 This had been happening with Peter a lot. Everything would be going great until he suddenly got a message that would lead to him having to leave in a hurry.

 You and Ned were following closely behind, bursting through the gym doors seconds after Peter, “Peter, wait!” you called after him. He froze in the middle of the dark hallway, turning on his heel to face the two of you, “Is everything okay?” your heels clicked loudly on the tile floor beneath you. Ned stayed back, jamming his hands into his pockets and looking over at the lockers, pretending not to listen.

 “I...everything’s fine. It's just...I have to go, I'm sorry,” he was bouncing on the balls of his feet and looking over his shoulder wearily, a surefire sign that that he was anxious.

 You nodded and bit your bottom lip, “I hope you can tell me sometime,” you said with a small smile. Peter’s face fell and he nodded, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. Guilt suddenly washed over him as you looked at him with wide, forgiving eyes. Your cheeks turned pink as you close the small space between the two of you and kissed Peter swiftly, an airy smile on his face once you pulled away.

 “Oh….I’ll see you guys later!” you smiled after him, as he ran off down the hall, tearing his tie off and throwing it behind him as if he was in a crazy action movie.

 You scooped up his tie and and stared after him, “Be careful!” Ned yelled, right before the front doors slammed shut behind him, “You just kissed Peter. Oh my God, did I just witness what I think I witnessed?”

 “Why did you tell Peter to be careful? Do you know where he's going?” you asked, crossing your arms defiantly over your chest.

 Ned’s eyes widened and he looked down at the floor to avoid your gaze, “I don't know what you're talking about? No, I definitely don't know anything. You kissed Peter, Y/N!”

 “Don't change the subject,” You huffed and turned on your heel, your cheeks growing warm. At least the hallway was dark enough to hide your blush. Even if you were giddy and happy about the night’s events, nervous energy was festering inside you. What on earth could Peter be doing?