Fastest Growing Fandoms on AO3 This Week (07/20/2026)
Every week I pull data on how many fics are in each fandom and compare to the previous week, then calculate the percentage increase to determine fastest growing fandoms. Since this naturally skews towards smaller fandoms, I have included the same data filtered to Over 1k, 5k, & 10k fics.
I made a similar post about this before, but this is the angrier, rantier version bc I saw something that pissed me off so bad. Which, ig that was the whole intention, but I need to get this off my chest. When I'm searching for fanfiction, a lot of memes and mini rants pop up instead of actual fics, and I usually don't have a problem with them. But the more I surf around, the more I realize that SOME (keyword: SOME) users in the fanfic community are such assholes. I came across a post that called this platform a "cesspool" of terrible writing and characterization. Among other bullshit, their tone was so awful. This was geared towards DC x reader fics. When someone pointed out how rude they were being to the community, OP went all "BOOHOO I have an opinion". There's genuinely a difference between having an opinion and being a fucking BULLY. This shit has consequences. I need y'all to understand that there are KIDS writing on this platform. I was writing on Wattpad at fourteen, and was my stuff cringey, out-of-character, and underdeveloped? YES. That's the WHOLE fucking point guys. You don't even have to be a kid to start a hobby like writing and art and be bad at it. So how did I get to where I am now? I had fun and kept going. Wattpad isn't the best fanfiction website, but my audience was really nice and encouraging. I'm grateful for that because now I look at posts like the one mentioned, and think about all of the writers who see them and think "is this post about me? Am I doing something wrong?". How many future writers died because they were met with echoes about how their work may not be good enough? That they need to write a certain way in order to be accepted? I recognize that I can't stop people from making hurtful comments because it falls under free speech. But to the people in the fanfic community, while you may not intend to hurt others, please think about what you're posting. There are writers in all stages of the hobby who are reading these things. We all deserve a chance to grow at something we enjoy doing. And to the people who make these posts KNOWING that it's going to hurt: you fucking SUCK. Dishonor on you. Dishonor on your cattle. Dishonor on your whole fucking bloodline. I didn't meant to get all preachy, but whatever. It's all out now. Love you guys, keep writing 🫶
THIS! THANK YOU OP! tbh i got so scared at first trying to write (since ive stopped writing way back in wattpad 2019-2020) again for the phm ryland grace community because i feared someone might make a targeted post about my shitty writing and that scared me for the longest time. and i figured that better than to not post my shitty stuff if people are going to be mean abt it.
but yknow what? bad art is still good art because you made an effort to make something. i realised that after writing for a few weeks now and i get reminded that it doesn’t matter on how bad you or people perceive your stuff is if its made with love for the character.
young writers have to start from somewhere. some of them are still cultivating their own styles of writing while growing into how they write. making good art will always be a progress, so for people to rudely state their opinion on writers that are writing for the live of the characters, under the guise of “free speech” pisses me off because no bro you’re just a fucking terrible person.
i hope any writer that reads this post remembers that you are writing for yourself okay? we write because we love the characters, the story, how it moved us on a personal level!
this isn’t a get popular scheme or whatever the fuck to get the most accurate characterisations. fanfiction is made for the love of the game. its only a plus if the writer is incredibly good at what they do, but we welcome all of the characterisations. if you don’t like what this writer wrote, i suggest leaving it alone. making attention posts like that won’t fix anything, you’re just making younger writers scared of actually posting anything.
to all of my fellow writers, continue on writing! let yourself exist without having the need to perform especially with fanfiction writing. if you love what you write, that’s great! if you hate your writing? study more or write more to improve your writing.
You never give him any reason to get jealous, but the smallest things still tick him off. A guy standing too close while talking to you, a look that lingers a second too long, or another guy making you laugh. He even got jealous of his own twin brother because you drunkenly planted a soft kiss on a cut on his cheek. Ryland is really not the best at being chill.
In his defense, he never thought about committing to anyone before you. But now that he has you, it simply annoys him when some random guy tries to slide into your space.
So, it is no surprise that he feels irritation at the pit of his stomach when he finds you alone in a class, one he doesn't share with you. You are shuffling through your bag while some guy stands in front of you. The problem isn’t just that the guy is close (it sort of is, but he can let that go), it’s that he is staring down at you with a small smile that is anything but casual.
Ryland silently watches from the doorway as you pull a notebook from your bag and hold it out. Instead of just taking it, the guy steps in closer, his smile stays in place as he reaches out, brushing his fingers against yours in a way that is impossible to mistake for an accident.
Having seen enough of this guy’s stupidity, Ryland decides it’s time to make his presence known. “Hey, baby” he says, his voice cutting through the quiet room as he steps inside.
Now, Ryland is not someone who likes PDA. In fact, he usually avoids PDA altogether, believing that affection belongs behind closed doors. But seeing the sudden flash of shock on the guy’s face the moment that endearment leaves his mouth brings an odd wave of satisfaction.
You look up at Ryland, a little confused by the sudden appearance and the label. “I was waiting for you outside, but you didn’t show” Ryland says, sliding right up next to you. He doesn't spare the stranger a single glance as he continues, “Thought I’d check in and make sure you weren't drowning in here”
“Oh! Yeah, uh, I was just handing my notes to Mark” you explain, gesturing to the guy whose name Ryland has finally learned, “Mark, this is Ryland. Ry, Mark”
“Hey, man” Ryland says, offering a tight nod as he hooks his arm around your waist, pulling you against his side.
Mark raises his eyebrows, glancing at the arm. “Uh, hey. Yeah, I was just asking if they could help me out with the material since they aced the last exam. Figured it’s better to get help from someone who actually gets the subject, you know?”
“Yeah, I know. They’re incredibly smart” Ryland says, flashing a tight smile that makes Mark shift uncomfortably on his feet. “Say, babe, didn’t you tell me this was actually the easiest class you have this semester, though?” he asks with a look of mock curiosity.
Your eyes widen. You never said that to him. You know him too well, and you know exactly how salty he is being right now. Before you can interject to explain that the coursework actually gets pretty complex, mostly to stop Ryland from sounding like a complete dick to a classmate, he keeps on going.
“Well” Ryland remarks, his tone filled with casual cruelty, “I guess everyone has different cognitive bandwidths”
You close your eyes for a second. This is exactly the arrogant version of Ryland you used to watch from a distance before you actually got to know him.
When you open your eyes, Mark is standing there taken aback. His mouth is slightly parted in disbelief. Before the silence can turn into a full-blown confrontation, you force an awkward laugh.
“He’s just joking” you tell Mark quickly, trying to smooth over the tension, “uh, hey, you can just return those notes to me during the next lecture, okay?”
Mark finally snaps out of his shock, gripping the notebook tightly. He mutters a quiet, “Yeah...okay” and quickly shuffles out of the classroom.
The second the door clicks shut, you sigh and pull away from Ryland’s hold, taking a step back, “What the hell was that about?”
“What?” The audacity of this man to act completely innocent after tearing down a fellow student’s intellect is absurd. You look at him, exasperated, “Ry, you just insulted him! He literally didn’t do or say anything to you to deserve that!”
When he doesn’t answer and simply looks away, staring at the wall, you continue “And I never said this class was the easiest! You don’t get to be an absolute ass to people for no reason, Ry!” His eyes snap back to yours, “I had a reason” he murmurs.
“He was standing too close to you” he continues, his voice dropping as your eyebrows furrow. He takes a step forward, getting into your personal space again, “He thought he could slide his way into your space using a stupid excuse of tutoring”
Suddenly, everything clicks in your mind. “You’re jealous” you state plainly. “Not jealous” he shoots back instantly.
A laugh escapes your lips, “Ry, please. I’ve known you long enough. You always get like this when you’re jealous”
He exhales a frustrated breath. Before you can move, he crowds you back against the desk. His hands rest onto the surface on either side of your hips, trapping you between his arms.
“I couldn’t let him think he had a shot” he whispers, his breath mingling with yours as he leans down. His gaze drops to your lips, “He doesn’t stand a chance, right?”
He doesn’t even give you a second to answer before crashing his mouth onto yours. His lips part yours, his tongue sliding in to claim your mouth. A low groan escapes his throat the moment your fingers instinctively tangle into the hair at the back of his neck.
You manage to pull back just an inch, panting for air, “Someone might walk in, Ry”
“Don’t care” he mutters. He dives back in, tilting his head to press the kiss even deeper.
A/N: I have a final exam in like 3 hours which I haven't completely prepared for, but the voices got to me... Also first time writing smut, kinda nervous <3 I'm just practicing for a Colt Seavers fic I wanna write I fear... I also know (very well) there are so many takes on the cockwarming Ryland Grace agenda... and here's mine
Cockwarming Ryland Grace while he works on his lesson plan.
CW: No use of Y/N, no gender mentioned but female anatomy is used
Ryland Grace knew better than anyone else how to turn your mind into mush.
That's what he was doing as he worked on his lesson plan for the next day with you on his lap. Humming softly as he worked diligently, precisely— typing in his ideas into his laptop, paying no attention to you except for the firm arm that held your waist in place, as you couldn't help but gasp and squirm in his grasp, his cock settled deep within you.
It was your fault, really. Offering to cockwarm him in a moment like this, and Ryland's will was stronger than you had initially thought. You'd just wanted to tempt him, tease him— only for you to be the one struggling for any semblance of pleasure aside from the delicious stretch of his cock.
A gasp fell from your lips as you tried to buck your hips one more time.
"Ry—"
Oh, but he was relentless, not even budging a single bit. If it weren't for the red that coated the tips of his ears and the hidden smirk that played on his lips, you wouldn't even know he was affected by any of this.
"Behave yourself," he murmured. His free hand was kneading the skin of your torso now. "You asked for this, didn't you? So be a good girl and sit still."
You could only try. Swallowing down the urge to move your hips, you tried to relax yourself against his chest.
He was too big, too good—
A hand slowly trailed down to your folds, playing with your clit. Pleasure filled your senses as you let out a gasp, flinching in his hold, causing his already skewed glasses to go even further askew.
"I can feel you squeezing my cock," Ryland whispered in your ear, his breath brushing against your ear. "That's it. Don't move, sweetie."
A thought briefly passed your mind as you tried to hold still— he was using you like a fucking stressball. And that very thought was what had you reaching your peak, cumming with a loud moan as Ryland's finger persistently kept toying with your clit.
"Already?" his voice dripped with mock disappointment. "I barely even played with your pussy."
That had you burying your head back into his shoulder. You could feel his shallow thrust your quivering walls.
"'m sorry," you gasped, riding out the waves of your orgasm.
He let out a small tsk, before finally thrusting up deep into you. Your eyes could only roll up in response, hands scrabbling to the table to regain a sense of balance.
"Very well, then," he pressed a sensous kiss to the nape of your neck. "It's only fair I get to cum too."
ryland grace got smoked in the tumblr sexyman polls but idc what the masses say- that’s MY 2026 tumblr sexyman. and what the hell sure, white boy of the century
CUTE. I don't know why but I felt like i couldn't find the end of this one hahaha
He Reads ~ ryland grace x reader
1.3k words, fluff, immediately post sex
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Ryland pulls you onto his chest, breath coming out in heavy pants as he tucks your head under his chin. Trembling arms wrap around your back, long fingers splaying across your skin and rubbing soothing circles into the muscle. Lips press into your messy hair, the sweetness of it a stark contrast to how intense everything felt a minute ago.
“You okay, sweetheart?” His voice was soft, trying to not to disturb the peace that had fallen over you two. You nod and crane your head up, licking slowly into his mouth. There’s no hesitation from him - he meets your lips with a happy little noise, making you smile. You settled back against him, soaking in the haze for a few more moments.
When you roll to your back, Ryland climbs out of the bed and disappears into the bathroom. You hear the sink running and he comes back with a warm towel. He presses your legs open just enough to swipe up the mess, murmuring his apologies when you twitch a little. A kiss drops to your knee and he’s gone again.
A glass of water and a bag of chips land on the nightstand and he’s reaching for your hands. “Drink this, I’m going to get the shower going,” he helps you sit up, ever the gentleman, and retreats again. You take a sip and follow him, wrapping your arms around his front and pressing your face into his back. He lets out a laugh, turning to see you.
“You’re so sweet, you know that?” Your arms loop around his neck. He rolls his eyes, feigning annoyance, and rests his hands on your rear. “I’m serious, you fuck me into the mattress and then immediately turn into prince charming.”
He makes a strangled noise, closing his eyes and turning his head away. “I might have done some… research.. in my time,” he forces out. “What kind of research?” You jump on him as quickly as he expected. He’s bright red, “I might’ve read some books.”
Your eyes go wide, smile breaking across your face. “What kind of books are we talking?”
“You know what kind of books I’m talking about,” he grumbles, biting back his own smile. “Ryland Grace reads romance, I’m going to need a minute to take this in,” you study his face, not wanting to push too hard if he’s really embarrassed about it.
“I read a few right when we started dating, figured women were going to be the most reliable source.” He’s practically pouting, “it’s basically peer reviewed material.” He leans down, kissing you soundly before you can tease him. “Now, you pee while I go grab clothes,” he gives you a serious look with a point. “I’m serious!” and he steps out of the bathroom.
He waits until he hears the toilet flush before coming back, knowing you prefer a little privacy. You’re already in the shower when he returns, letting the hot water soothe your tired body. Ryland slides in behind you, taking your loofa and scrubbing your back gently. He’s very well behaved the whole time, radiating his respect for you through caring touches and dreamy kisses.
When you’re both clean and dry, he slides a big t-shirt over your head, laughing at the playful slap you land on his ass when he turns around for his boxers. “So forward,” he chuckles, grabbing your wrist and pulling you back to the bed. You slide under the covers and hold them up, patting the mattress beside you. He dives right in, nearly laying his whole body on top of yours.
“Mm, love you,” his words are muffled against your neck. You return the words easily, fingers weaving through his hair. “So about those books,” you start, giggling at his groan. “I was just wondering which ones you’ve read!”
He raises his head and glares at you. He’s thinking again, you can see the wheels turning. The drawer on the nightstand slides open and he grabs his kindle, pausing before handing it to you with a shy look from under his lashes. “Ryland, I’m just teasing, you don’t have to tell me.” You’re suddenly worried that he feels real pressure, which is the last thing you wanted to do to the sweetest man you knew.
“It’s okay,” he smiles, laying back down against your chest. “I’m open to your recommendations.” He takes the kindle and turns it on, letting you read the list of books. It’s a lot of genres - memoirs, fiction and non-fiction, lots of classics. “You have good taste,” you affirm, skimming your nails over his back.
A few romance books are scattered through the list, they’re generally tame, he clearly reads the content warnings before picking one out. You huff a little laugh when you realize that he really only read sweet romance novels.
“What?” He sounds anxious. “Nothing, nothing Ry! These are really good ones, I’ve read them all too,” you ask him for his thoughts on a plot twist from one of the stories, laughing as he launches into a tirade about how many bad decisions were made back to back by literally every character. “Like, if a single good choice had been made, the book would have been over. It was all so fixable!” His hands fly through the air, helping him articulate his thoughts.
You scroll back up the list, eyes going wide when you catch sight of a title you didn’t expect to see. “Heated Rivalry?” You didn’t mean to sound so surprised. It had the little checkmark on it, he read the whole thing.
He squeezes his eyes shut, muffling a snort in your shoulder. “That’s a good one too!” You insist, running a hand over his hair again. “I wanted to know what the hype was about,” he chuckles. “Then the story got really good and I needed to know how it would end.” You both melt into giggles, “have you read it?” He asks, tilting to see you.
“I’ve seen the show, haven’t read the book.” A nod from him, like he’s cataloging that information for later. He taps into the store on his tablet and waves it out to you. “Here, what should I read next?” He molds himself to you as soon as you take it, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing you lower into the sheets. “This is a big responsibility,” you tuck a leg around his, distracted by how nice his weight felt on top of you. “Do you have a favorite?”
You think for a second, searching for something he would like. Oh, of course. You type in the title and let him read the synopsis, laughing when he reads out a review. “‘It’s everything I didn’t know I needed.’”
He taps buy and downloads it, “I’m telling you, it’s peer reviewed!”
“No, you’re right. The data is there, I never thought of it that way,” you push him and he rolls, pulling you on top of him. You see him open the book and you grin, “you’re gonna read it? Right now?” He clears his throat.
“I’m gonna read it to you.” His fingers skim over your side, feeling the breath you pull in.
And he does - he reads the first chapter in a low voice. He doesn’t notice that your eyes are closed and your breathing evened out until he gets to the last page. A small smile pulls at his lips, his eyes shining in a way that he knows would make you blush if you were awake.
He reads for as long as he can, stretching the moment out. These were his favorite nights, he decided to tell you that too when you woke up in the morning.
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i figured out that I struggle to write earth stories with ryland bc I know that he would be sent to space and that would be the end of it. I like Erid bc I can explore hope and grief and how they intertwine, knowing it's an objectively happy ending. any earth story is ultimately more heartbreaking than post hail Mary ones
summary : life of the party, colt seavers, hopelessly yearns for you drunk out of his mind. ryland calls you to pick him up and take care of him in his stead. but you didn't know that would entail you to take care of a drunk blond clingy puppy of a man. i mean they did say drunk words are sober thoughts?
pairing: colt seavers x f!reader
genre : young stunna!drunk!colt, filipina! reader (self indulgence at its finest), college au, drunk! colt being an adorable lovesick idiot, reader is a tease sometimes but she takes care of him, switching of languages for reader's thoughts (filipino to english), mutual pining, colt tries to impress you with your own language but fails, you find it endearing, eskimo kisses, kisses used as bribery
young stunna - in philippine street culture, "young stunna" refers to a slang term for a flashy, confident, and trendy youth. it describes a subculture of young people who value street credibility, swagger, and a rebellious or "maangas" aura.
song: since day one by skusta clee & flow g (ngl this song slaps)
[bunny's note] ᯓ➤ beta read by a few of my friends and the lovely sue (@rockylandphm)! actually before i wrote for ryland's tatbilb au, i actually was supposed to write for colt first since i watched fall guy and like was charmed by colt seavers yearning nature in the movie but i got so phm ryland grace pilled that i ended up shelving colt for the time being. not to worry anymore, have this short drunk colt seavers drabble/one shot!
i'll include translations for the filipino word/phrases reader will use at the end!
dividers by @/diviniyae!
⤷ "kaya kung pagbibigyan mo sana, ang isang young stunna
gagawin lahat if you wanna, 'cause I've been loving you since day one."
drunk colt was never an issue. honestly colt drinking during after game parties was the usual, but what was the issue was colt drinking past his limits after being dared by one of the partygoers and being incredibly flirty towards you. you've gotten used to his flirty remarks through the 2 years you've known the guy when his twin brother introduced you to him a while back. it was a back and forth of the "will they, won't they" with the two of you, and ryland was already sick of the pining and just gave up trying to encourage one of you to just ask the other one out.
he figured that one of you was bound to get sick of the waiting game or one of you would get drunk enough to confess or do something stupid. he was right in the latter half.
it was also just a matter of time the tension between you two would break, you just didn't expect it would happen when he got super drunk and you had to take care of his drunkass.
‘tangina. ang bigat ni colt shit.’ you thought to yourself, your eyes travel along colt’s drunken form around you.
"colt c'mon get your ass up please!" you struggle to hold the inebriated blond that was heavier than usual since he was practically draping himself on you. one of your arms was underneath his, trying to lift him up while all the blond does is lift his hung head and give you a dopey smile.
yeah this motherfucker is drunk as a skunk. ryland called you earlier to pick colt up in his stead since he was in the middle of an important date and needed someone to look after his brother. so that’s why you were here currently, trying to drag a 185 pound man to their front door and clearly failing at your job. you guys were so close, it’s just that colt decided to not use his legs and decided to be an immovable rock all of a sudden.
he just nuzzles himself into the crook of your neck and you could clearly smell the hint of vodka and whiskey in his breath. hell, might as well throw in tequila for the fun of it! you steady yourself and colt actually tries to stand up to help you but he sways a bit. you try to think of ways to bribe this man into being obedient and help you a bit so you can successfully bed him. wait not in that way oh my god. oh my god. so you can successfully take care of him and get him to bed safely. there. jesus christ. ikalma ang sarili diyos ko po.
while you were thinking, all colt could think was how close he was to you and how good you smelt. he didn’t want to overstep his boundaries but god your smell was more intoxicating than any of the drinks he had at the party. he lost count of the drinks he took after he was dared by one of the people partying.
‘god she’s so pretty. does she ever stop being pretty?’ colt thinks as he stares at you, it was hard not to be when he was so close to you.
you finally thought of something. even though you know you’ll be called out for being a tease but if it worked, you’ll just have to figure out the reward later cause right now your weak arms and legs can’t hold him up much longer.
“hey colt?” colt just mumbles out words that you can’t understand. you could make out a slurred, ‘mmm yeah”
“if you get yourself inside, i’ll kiss you.” as those words left your lips, you’ve never seen a drunk man rip himself off of you so quickly and drag you inside too. but hey if it works it works.
once the two of you were inside the shared home of the twins, colt lays himself on the couch and just stares at you. he hasn’t been all chatty ever since you came along to pick him up from the party, only being incredibly clingy that you gave up trying to pry him off of you earlier.
you move swiftly around their apartment like it was second nature, taking water out of their near empty fridge. grabbing a glass from their kitchen, you eventually made your way to where colt was. you hand him the glass that had water in it for him to drink, he reaches out and drinks the water greedily. while he drank, you could admire the way his jaw flexed as his adam’s apple bopped up and down as he took down the glass of water.
colt has always been attractive in your eyes, even when you first met him with ryland. he always had this playful grin on his face and a youthful rebellious energy with him that he brought wherever he went. it was hard not to fall for the guy really. it wasn’t really a secret that you liked the energetic blond, it was just the whole waiting game with him. waiting to see if he ever liked you in that way, but with two years that have passed you started to doubt it until now.
because the way colt was looking at you right now? his eyes were half lidded but nothing hid the intense stare that held so much admiration for you in this moment. you take the empty glass away from him and place it on a nearby coffee table. you could almost feel your cheeks warm at the sight of him, so you just smiled and asked him.
“what? got something on my face?” he gives back a dopey smile and shakes his head.
“yeah, beauty.” yep. definitely walked into that. putangina pasalamat ka pogi ka. you bit back a laugh, and sat with him on the couch. colt snuggles into your side and you let him. but you remember ryland advising you to get him on his own bed because last time he let colt sleep on the couch while drunk, let’s just say he almost broke the coffee table.
so yeah he definitely learned not to do that again.
“colt.”
“hmm.”
“c’mon. i gotta get you to your bed, dummy.”
“no. want to stay here with you.” you bite your lips, trying to stop yourself from being so kilig from his words. lord please ang puso ko hindi na kinakaya to help me. you take in a breath and try to be more firm.
“colt c’mon.”
“no.”
“if i promised to kiss you, would you get up?” you feel colt shift in his position, he looks up at you. you stare back at him but with this proximity, you could see a few freckles that were sprawled across his face. you wanted to trace it with your fingertips into little constellations. you never were this close with him before but god did you want to stay like this with him forever if it meant you could stare at his magnetic blue eyes.
alas, we must cut this cute moment when colt suddenly felt the urge to gag. your eyes widen and help him fast to get to the toilet bowl. thankfully you guys got there on time and colt threw up all of the contents in the toilet. you brush his hair up and pat his back comfortingly.
“okay, yep that’s enough drinking for you sir.” you jokingly comment, and all you could get in response was sounds of him retching up any remaining alcohol in his stomach. when colt was done, he reaches out for you automatically and you let him. the two of you make your way out of the bathroom and into his room.
you lead him to his bed and he flops on it carelessly. you huff cause you need to get him out of his clothes that reeked of alcohol and sweat. you tug on his jacket and one of his eyes open. he gives you a lazy smirk.
“hey at least take me out to dinner first perv.” you roll your eyes at this.
“colt stop being difficult. i can’t have you sleeping like that, smelling like you came from an alcohol den.”
“hnggg. i’ll let you touch me if you let me kiss you.”
“colt you’re drunk. lasing for fuck’s sake.” you deadpan him, he doesn’t budge. fine. siguraduhin niyang wag syang liligalig nako. you can’t believe you’re actually negotiating with a drunk man.
“fine sige. i’ll kiss you if!” you see colt actually pay attention to you, as if the reward for being an obedient puppy was highly enticing to him. which it really was to a guy that flirted his ass off for 2 whole years and constantly talked to ryland about his crush on you. “you let me clean you up a bit before you sleep? is that okay?”
tangina pumayag ka na parang awa mo na. ayaw ko na magmakaawa please lang.
colt just nods his head with a dopey smile. you finally let out a small grin, which makes his chest do somersaults. you help him out of his jacket and sweat-ridden shirt off of his body, you try not to stare at his toned chest and focus on the task at hand. you go to the bathroom and grab one of the towels and dampen it so you could use it on him.
you come back to colt with a wet towel and a glass of water that you grabbed from the kitchen. you place it on his bedside table and start to wipe the sweat off of colt, while you were focused on cleaning him up, all colt could do was lovingly stare as you fussed over him. he liked it when you fussed over him. it was cute hearing you speak in your native language underneath your breath or let it slip when you were getting frustrated.
while he stared, you just tried not to mind it and wipe away the sweat his body produced from the past few hours. after you are done wiping him down, you pass him a loose white cotton shirt and a pair of pajamas to wear and leave the room. you told him to holler at you when he was done, after a few minutes he called you back in.
you came back to see colt all cuddled up in his bed, looking at you expectantly. you turn your head to the side and ask.
“and what are you expecting from me huh?” he pouts. god ang cute niya diyos ko lord. kinikilig ako hindi to fair colt seavers! dapat strong independent woman ako pero pag sa itchura mong yan sige nalang.
“you forgot your promised kisses hng.”
“oh.” you almost wanted to laugh at his face for acting so childish but seeing him actually take the promises seriously and pouting when he realises that you won’t, made you want to pepper his face with kisses.
“well i can’t really kiss you when you’re drunk now, hmm?” you reason, colt just gives you a side eye. his lips were still pouting. god he really wants those kisses. you sigh and give in.
you go sit next to him at his bed and cradle his head with your hands, he freezes up but looks at you with wide eyes. you kiss his forehead, the warmth of your lips against his cold skin made him shiver. a flush immediately covers his cheeks and ears, when he feels you kiss him. you moved away to see his expression and he still had a pout on his lips.
“is that okay?”
he shakes his head, “you still have 2 more kisses.”
your eyes crinkle with mirth and shake your head. you indulge him in his wishes and kiss his cheeks, the feeling of his stubble against your own tickled you a bit but you felt colt slowly relax in your grip. you move away and let go of his face, but one of his hands quickly grabs your wrist to not leave his face.
“can you kiss me on the lips this time?” he requests innocently, and you look at him shocked. ha? ANO? HELLO??? COLT SEAVERS ANONG PINAGSASABI MO?
“ha?”
“please?” colt actually pleaded with you this time. as if the thought of you kissing him was all a dream that he wanted to savor. even if he woke up the next morning yearning hard, he’d wish to at least get a kiss from dream you. you lick you lips, not really knowing what to say.
“uh no.” colt’s face falls, he pouts even harder which you can’t even believe a grown man can actually do, but he does.
“why not?”
“cause you’re drunk colt.”
“that didn’t stop you from kissing other parts of my face though.”
“i’m not kissing you when you can’t consent.”
“i consent.”
“not drunk you. i meant sober you.”
colt side eyes you and just plainly states, “sober me would kill drunk me for having this situation laid out in front of me.”
you shake your head.
“still colt.” he gives you a pleading puppy dog look that he knew would work on you. god you were weak for it. you sigh. you cradle his face into your hands again, colt closes his eyes. waiting for the impact of your soft lips against his but it never comes. when he opens an eye, he feels the tip of your nose rub against the tip of his nose.
you just eskimo kissed him. never have he felt so shy in his entire life on how softly you looked at him after doing it. god was he definitely going to remember this. he gawks at you.
“i hope that suffices colt.” all he could do is nod, you let go of his face and take the empty glass and damp towel from the bedside table to put away. but before you could cross the door, colt calls out your name one final time. you look over.
“hey uh,” colt looks shy all of a sudden, where was the suave version of him all of a sudden?
“yes colt?”
“um, i learned some filipino phrases at the party.” you quirk a brow at this, okay where was he going with this? “okay what is it?”
“sa mata ko makinang ka pa rin.” you let a soft smile play at your lips at his attempt to woo you. despite his pronunciation being a bit off, you were still able to understand it. he grins at you hard when he sees that it worked.
“you know what that means hmm?” colt nods his head, and your grin grows wider, “it means that ‘in your eyes i still shine.’”
colt nods with his grin still intact, proud of his last attempt to woo you before you left him to rest. you shake your head at him.
“good night colt.”
“good night mahal.” you struggle to hold back a smile at this. cute.
“oh colt?”
“yes?” he asks before he went off to dreamland, his eyelids threatening to fall any second now but he was trying to stay awake to hear your last words before you left.
“I’ll come by tomorrow to get you sinigang. also, i didn’t kiss you on the lips because i want you to kiss me when you’re sober.”
he pauses and nods at this, a sleepy smile on his lips. you don’t say anything and close the lights to finally let him sleep. when you close the door, you let out a sigh.
you’re definitely going to tell ryland about this later.
translations:
*tangina. ang bigat ni colt shit. - fuck, colt is really heavy shit.
*ikalma ang sarili diyos ko po. - calm yourself jesus christ.
*putangina pasalamat ka pogi ka - son of a bitch, be thankful you're handsome—
* kilig - cuteness aggression
* lord please ang puso ko hindi na kinakaya to help me - lord, please my heart can't take anymore. help me.
*lasing - drunk
*siguraduhin niyang wag syang liligalig nako - you better not be too rowdy.
*sige - okay
*tangina pumayag ka na parang awa mo na. ayaw ko na magmakaawa please lang. - fuck. just agree already. I don't want to beg anymore please.
*kinikilig ako hindi to fair colt seavers! dapat strong independent woman ako pero pag sa itchura mong yan sige nalang. - i'm getting cuteness agression this isn't fair colt seavers! i should be a strong independent woman but with a face like that okay fine.
*ha? ANO? HELLO??? COLT SEAVERS ANONG PINAGSASABI MO? - ha? WHAT? HELLO? COLT SEAVERS WHAT ARE YOU SAYING?
*mahal - love
*sinigang - a classic Filipino sour soup or stew made with a tart, fruit-based broth and typically loaded with meats or seafood, vegetables, and served with rice.
coming back to the hotel after being out doing his stuntman work to find you dozed off in bed again waiting for him. he’s trying his best to be quiet as he kicks off his shoes and crawls into bed beside you. when he hears a soft snore pass your lips he can’t help but smile.
“hey there..” he whispers, using his fingers to gently brush your hair from your face, soothing your extreme bed head as best as he can with his hand. “i’m back, baby.”
you stir slightly at his voice, turning your body to face his a little more and curling into him. you definitely did not want to get up and he knew that.
“wanna get up, hm?” his voice is soft and careful as he tries to coax you from your blissful slumber. it takes a few more moments of him carefully petting your head for your eyes to finally begin to flutter open. he watches as you search his face, trying to blink the sleep away. he can tell that you were sleeping good.
“there she is, my sleepy girl.” he hums, leaning down to press a kiss against the tip of your nose. always gentle, he is, but especially gentle when he’s trying to wake you. he knows how jarring it is for you to just be pulled from your sleep.
your eyes break from his face as you take in your surroundings, how the room has grown darker around you. “what time is it?” your voice is quiet, sleep still clinging to the edges of your words.
“almost eight.”
“hm,” you hum, bringing your hand up and running it under his shirt. your fingertips are cool against his skin, which is a given because you’ve been asleep for hours in a room that feels like an ice box to him. “fell asleep waiting on you.”
“i know you did, baby. i’m sorry, i texted. we ran over. production had us run the same stunt over and over.” his response is genuine, he should’ve been back to the hotel by five o’clock at the latest, but they just wouldn’t release him until everything was perfect. he also knows why his text went unanswered—you were already asleep.
“it’s okay, just missed you.” you tell him in your soft, sweet tone.
his heart is going to burst out of his chest. he’s sure of it.
“i missed you too, you know i did. how about we order room service, yeah? take a bath, get that pasta you like and just stay here and watch something?” he hopes his suggestion will make up for his tardiness.
you don’t respond right away, your eyebrows raising as you think his suggestion over, weigh your options.
he wants to just absolutely kiss you silly right now.
“and cuddle?” you finally respond, and it sounds like a question, but he knows you already know his answer.
he still gives it to you.
“and cuddle, of course. how could i forget that? it would be just criminal if we didn’t.” his voice has turned up into his usual joking and joyful tone at the suggestion.
he’s so in love with you it hurts sometimes.
“i think that could work.”
and that’s how the rest of your night is spent. a nice, hot, shared bubble bath which helps soothe his aching muscles, your favorite room service pasta and a movie of your choosing.
you fall asleep on his chest, snoring softly again before the movie is even halfway over, but colt is positive that he wouldn’t have it any other way.
“sweet dreams, sleepy girl.” he whispers, pressing one final good night kiss against the top of your head.
A/N: Honestly I wrote this out with no plans in mind, this was just really giving in to the voices before I fell asleep??
How was it on the Hail Mary for Ryland Grace and you during the initial days after the 4-years coma?
CW: None
The initial days had been a blur for you.
It had been way too confusing— unsettling. You'd woken up not knowing your own name, lacking every memory that could have helped you develop some sort of self-identity, and wondering who the hell was the strange, long-haired man who was staring down at you desperately the moment your eyes fluttered open.
You'd soon learn that the name of that strange man was Ryland Grace.
Those were very chaotic days. You hadn't known what belonged to whom— and of course, paired with Ilyukhina's stash of incredibly strong vodka— was filled with trying to cope with whatever the hell was going on, because you were both equally clueless and mushy-brained.
Of course, there had been initial attempts to talk it out, but those conversations really seemed to lead nowhere and simply built frustration, except for the occassional flash of a memory that would cross either of you.
So, most of the time was spent coping. Scouring through the packed bags, going through the photos of your deceased, swapping clothes to try and figure out what you thought fit best.
And in that blur, there were moments like this.
Where without even knowing exactly why— maybe you were just trying to figure out who you were, maybe you were just longing for the contact of another human— you'd find yourself swaying to a simple waltz in that strange screen room with Grace, both of your eyes closed as you held on to each other to what felt like dear life.
The only person on board the Hail Mary and the only ones for several lightyears— you'd be damned if you even tried to put some semblance of a distance, because at those confusing moments, it felt like all you had left in this world was one another, swaying and humming as you waited for the befuddling pieces of memory to finally fall into place.
And it was in moments like these, that while seeking human connection or any sort of sense, that you'd found yourself with your head too close to Grace, eyes no longer meeting as you were both drawn to each other's lips, leaning way too close as you began to inch towards the other, lips brushing for a faint kiss.
It didn't mean anything at the moment. Not really.
That was just meant to ground you— to remind yourselves that the other was real, even if the connection wasn't all that deep to be considered love, or even just simply romantic. It was just a way to cope with the confusion, a crutch to lean on as you tried to regain your sense of self. It just made sense at the moment, as the newfound Adam and Eve out of your own designated solar system.
Thank goodness, you'd both survived that, regained more of your memories and identities, and relearned to put up unspoken boundaries that you'd both been too desperate to remember before.
But sometimes, as you stood to the side now and watched Rocky and Grace interact, you'd find yourself thinking back to those blurry moments, of the times you'd both clung to each other dearly, of how his lips felt, softly pressing against yours.
Maybe that was all there was to it. A longing for any sort of connection.
Oh, but you knew there was more than just that for you as your eyes continued to linger on Grace, on how he leaned against Rocky's xenonite with those stupidly muscular biceps, and on those shining blue eyes paired with a grin that never really seemed to dim even in the face of the most dire of situations.
If only there was more to than just that to him too.
summary: the first thing you noticed about him was his jacket. white and padded, with a golden scorpion stitched into the back.
word count: 4,2k
tags: fem!reader, stalker!reader x stalker!driver. taking photographs and following people without their consent. cursing!!! reader doesn't know driver's name so she calls him... "him." no beta!! english is not my first language, abuse of italics, and uhhh... i think that's it.
a/n: tried a new aesthetic for the one shots! i hope you guys like it :D title from: paparazzi — lady gaga. i loved writing this!!
before him, you’d always thought there was something fundamentally wrong with the way you saw the world.
from the biggest detail to the smallest flicker of movement, there was undeniably something wrong with you. you were aware of that; it was not the kind of thing a person could fail to notice about themselves, and even if it were, you noticed everything.
not because you wanted to. maybe because the instincts inside of you were different. those instincts that stayed dormant in everyone else seemed, in your body, to be awake all the time, alert and trembling and whispering that you were prey.
so you noticed everything in the way a skittish rabbit notices the shape of the field before it dares to move.
the first thing you noticed about him was his jacket. white and padded, with a golden scorpion stitched into the back. it was a normal jacket, you suppose. but it caught your eye anyway, just for a few seconds. you didn't even properly register his face before he was already gone.
he had looked quiet, you thought. the sort of quiet that made you wonder if he had been born that way or taught it, piece by piece, by whatever had raised him. a jacket like that felt like it belonged to someone louder, someone who took up more space in a room.
maybe it had belonged to someone else. an older brother, perhaps.
maybe it was borrowed, or inherited, or simply the only warm thing left in a crowded house where clothes passed from one child to the next. you imagined a mother with too many mouths to feed.
none of it had to be true, your mind supplied possibilities the way lungs supplied air.
you looked back down at your notebook, without remembering picking up your pen, you’d already written two words: blonde hair.
your unconscious was already building a list.
you bit your lower lip, wondering whether it was worth it.
you supposed it was.
next to it, you wrote; black coffee. no sugar. his order.
you wondered what else there was to learn.
——
you didn't fall in love with him the second time you saw him either.
that would have been too simple, too neat. too easy to explain, too… clean.
it was only a coincidence, really, being in the same place at the same time. after all, you had lost the trail of him after he left the cafeteria. there hadn’t been enough to follow, not really. l.a was far too large to search with nothing but blonde hair and a memorable jacket.
you were at the laundromat when the bell over the door chimed in. your headphones were in, old house music filling your ears. you were sitting by the dryers, the television in the corner played a soccer match no one seemed interested in watching.
that was when your eyes found the jacket again, golden braided scorpion on the back. you nearly dropped the coins in your hand.
your gaze caught on everything it could: his boots, his hands, his jeans, the set of his shoulders. heavy boots with worn soles, hands rough enough to suggest work rather than hobby and fresh scratches across his knuckles.
there was grease on his clothes. he must have been working on something. a car, probably. a mechanic? or someone trying very hard to become one because paying someone else wasn't an option.
there were dark circles under his eyes, he didn't sleep much.
huh, you didn't either.
you waited until your clothes were done drying. you pretended to watch the soccer match on the television, though your attention never really left the room.
when he left, you left a few seconds later.
you watched him get into a car. a chevrolet something. you weren't especially good with car models, but that seemed like the kind of detail you ought to memorize.
you watched him drive away until the taillights disappeared around the corner.
you walked three blocks before ducking into a bookstore. a folded map of the city cost less than lunch.
the laundromat had to be close to his apartment, you thought. far enough that a car made the trip easier. you were sure he had an apartment. he didn’t look like a house man. he looked like someone who lived in rooms with thin walls and small kitchens.
you marked the laundromat with a red circle. then you opened your laptop and started searching for apartment complexes nearby.
six, at first.
you needed cheap places. he didn’t look like a big money man.
then four.
still unlikely, the parking lots were too small.
two.
you wrote the directions in your notebook and stared at them for a moment. tomorrow, you supposed, you would take the bus and see them.
your fingers brushed against the camera resting in your bag, you wondered if it would be worth bringing.
——
you had luck in the first location. the 73’ chevrolet was there in the parking lot, exactly where you had hoped it would be. you took a picture or two of the car before walking back to the elevator.
your breath caught when the metal doors slid open and he was suddenly there, in front of you, eyes fixed on your face.
fuck, had he seen you? there’s no way. you had checked the angles from the parking lot before taking the pictures. there weren't any windows overlooking the spaces. you had made sure of that. you always made sure.
he didn't leave the elevator. instead, he shifted slightly to one side, making room for you.
only then did you notice the blonde woman beside him, short-haired, holding a grocery bag in one hand.
you gave them a small smile, your pulse felt impossibly loud inside the small metal box.
what if he asked about the camera? what if he said he'd never seen you around before? what if he asked your name?
you could ask his first.
you weren't very good at starting conversations.
before you could try, the woman pressed the button for the fourth floor.
“i like your hair,” you told her, shy and careful. “it suits you.”
she smiled, her hand instinctively brushed against it.
“i like your coat,” she said back.
the man’s eyes were on you now.
you let out a little laugh that didn't sound quite real. “thank you. it’s thrifted.”
your gaze moved to him. you smiled, just briefly.
the elevator chimed, and they both got out. you watched him pull out his keys and unlock his door.
apartment 405.
four. zero. five. you repeated the number to yourself until it stayed.
the woman disappeared inside with him. friends, you assumed. the groceries suggested familiarity.
the receipt had come from the convenience store three blocks away.
you stared at the closed metal doors for another few seconds.
you supposed it was time to get a new job.
——
you started building your entire week around the possibility of seeing a man you didn't know for mere thirty seconds.
you spent your mornings in the coffee shop where you had first seen him. you went to the laundromat every friday, because that was where you had seen him the second time. you learned when his apartment was usually empty because those were the hours you could photograph the hallway without anyone asking questions. you kept your camera close, always.
then you got a job, partly because it seemed practical, and partly because there was always a chance he might come in.
and one week later, he does.
he buys only two things: a carton of milk and a pack of gum. he isn't wearing the scorpion jacket. you almost ask him where it is, before realizing that would have made you sound like a fucking weirdo.
“that’ll be $12.47,” you say.
he slides the money across the counter and doesn't even thank you.
you wonder what made him so closed off.
you need to know.
before he leaves, you reach for the camera you kept beneath the register almost without thinking.
——
“he’s cute,” one of your friends says, because you do have friends, even if it doesn't always look like it. “is he your friend? a model?”
your stomach tightened, you had forgotten to hide the last two pictures you took of him. your room has a board for everything you know about him—photographs, addresses, receipts and timetables—, though right now it is tucked away in your closet.
“yeah,” you lie. “he’s a friend of mine.”
he isn't, but somehow he has started to feel like one.
“what’s his name?” your friend asks. “is he single?”
you look at her.
it's not exactly a mean look, more like a confused one. the question felt oddly invasive, as though she were asking about someone she had no right to know.
she raised both hands in surrender.
“okay, okay," she laughed. “he's all yours.”
yours. the word stayed with you after she’d gone.
funny. you still didn’t know the sound of his name.
still, he was yours.
you finally took the board out of the closet. it looked exactly how conspiracy boards always looked in films, all photographs and notes. ridiculous, almost embarrassingly obvious. it felt cliche, painfully so, the kind of thing people rolled their eyes at in movies.
but it worked.
your brain had always understood the world better once it could spread it out in front of itself.
you pinned up the newest photographs, shifting older ones a few centimeters to make room. his apartment, his car, the laundromat, where he worked. the grocery store, fridays. coffee. black, no sugar.
lately there had been one question you still could not crack, and it had begun to eat at the edges of your mind.
you knew he went somewhere at night.
you didn't know where. not every evening, not always at the same hour. but somewhere.
you had spent enough time hidden in the dark mouth of an alley across from his building, watching the square of yellow light appear in his apartment window.
you kept looking at your board, straightening the timeline of the last places you had followed him, pressing each photograph into place. the pictures you took at the grocery store were finally up.
then your phone rang.
the sound dragged a loud sigh out of you before you could stop it. your thoughts scattered at once. you answered, still half trapped inside your own head, it was your friend.
“what’s wrong?” you asked.
“you’re going to kill me,” she said, “but my car broke down in the middle of the road.”
“are you okay?” you asked immediately, already reaching for your bag and keys.
“yeah, yeah. i’m fine.” you could hear the dismissive little wave of her hand through the phone. “but i know this might sound weird, because you don't have a car, but do you know a good mechanic?”
well, if it wasn't the universe handing you a cleaner excuse.
your eyes drifted to the business card resting stuck on the board. shannon's garage.
you picked it up between two fingers.
“i might know one,” you said. “do we need to call a crane?”
your friend laughed. “as if we could afford one, girl. we’re pushing it.”
you groaned into the phone.
——
your hair sticks to your forehead. your jacket is tied around your waist, sleeves hanging loose against your hips, and the graphic t-shirt you'd thought was a good idea this morning now feels like punishment. the heat has worked its way beneath your skin, settling there until even standing still feels exhausting.
“hi,” your friend says to the man you assume must be shannon. “we just pushed my stupid car all the way from reseda boulevard. i have no idea what the hell is wrong with it.”
“oh, girls, you are both sweating. let me get you a glass of water,” he says immediately.
you want to tell him there is no need, there absolutely is.
you lean your weight against your friend's car, letting the warm metal hold you up for a moment. your eyes close. just for a second.
then your friend says, “hey, do i know you?”
your eyes open at once, you feel your stomach drop.
fuck.
he is standing there in a mechanic's coverall, sleeves rolled to his forearms, looking at you. there is no way he doesn't recognize you. but this really was a coincidence. you could have sent your friend to any garage in the city, any street, any corner with an open sign in the window. this looked like a coincidence, right?
“no, i don’t think so,” he says.
“yes, i know you,” your friend insists, nudging your arm. “don’t we know him from somewhere?”
you let out a nervous giggle.
“i don’t think so,” you say quickly. “sorry, she does this with every handsome guy.”
he actually looks embarrassed by that, color rises faintly across his face before he looks away.
your friend turns to you, offended. “no, i don’t— i mean, yeah, but—”
shannon returns with two glasses of water before she can finish.
“here you go,” he says. “can’t believe you pushed it from reseda. can you hear that?” he adds, glancing at the younger mechanic.
“we’re strong,” you say, while your friend beside you drinks the entire glass in one go.
you shoot her a look, but two seconds later you do the same. when you lower the glass, he's still looking at you.
shannon glances between the three of you. “oh, you two know each other?”
your friend turns to you with a huge smile and a look that says told you so.
“no,” you say too fast. “i mean, maybe. i don’t know.”
“you work in the grocery store, down at—” he starts.
“yes!” you cut in before he can finish. “yes, i do.”
you are absurdly relieved that this is why he recognized you.
your friend looks at you, surprised. “you changed your job? why didn’t you tell me?”
“it was sudden,” you say. “it doesn’t matter. your car is the priority right now.”
you look at her with pleading eyes that say please do not make me explain this right now.
shannon walks over to the front of the car, and the younger mechanic follows. the hood lifts with a metallic clunk.
“found the problem,” he says.
he opens a cap you recognize immediately. oil filler cap. you have been doing your homework.
“there’s no oil in your car.”
your friend frowns at him. “that can’t be. i just changed it three days ago.”
he slips a finger inside and lifts it back out. almost dry. proof, plain and rude and undeniable.
your friend looks from his hand to the engine, eyes looking lost. you shrug, without knowing what to say.
“but i don’t have that much money,” she says, smaller now.
you reach into your bag immediately.
“i’ll pay for it,” you say. “don't worry.”
her eyes go watery so quickly it almost hurts to watch, and for a second you are sure you see something soften in his face too.
no, that’s probably not real.
your crush is making you delusional.
well, more delusional than usual.
——
“hey, i’m taking a break,” you say to your coworker.
she nods without really looking at you, a cigarette held lazily between her fingers while she counts the money in the register, lips moving silently with the numbers. you are close to closing. people don't usually come in this late, and the store has already begun to feel emptied out, stripped down to its fluorescent bones.
there’s a plastic chair near the trash bin, the kind your coworker drags out every night so she could smoke. you sit in it anyway.
the heat is still unbearable even at night, and the thick fabric of your uniform makes it worse. it clings to your skin like it’s trying to keep every trace of the day inside you.
you close your eyes for a second and let the city happen around you.
distant traffic. a siren far away. someone laughing on the sidewalk. the low, electric hum of a place that never really sleeps.
then, suddenly, a crash cuts through everything.
two gunshots.
your eyes open at once.
“what the—?” you whisper, your attention snapping towards the mouth of the alley. you know robberies happen almost every night around here. you know because everyone knows. but you have never been this close to one before.
your coworker yanks the door open. “get the fuck in. there’s a lunatic shooting.”
“i think they’re robbing lucius’ store,” you say, body still half outside.
a car bursts past the alley before the words have even settled, moving too fast to be anything good. the windows are dark, tinted so heavily you cannot see much of anything inside.
nothing but a flash of pale hair beneath the windshield.
your stomach drops, you know that type of blond.
your coworker grabs your arm and forces you inside, muttering something mean about your reaction time, but you barely hear her. your thoughts have already gone elsewhere, gone soft and sharp at the same time.
“are they common?” you ask, though your attention is somewhere else entirely.
“what? robberies?” she looks at you like you have asked something deeply stupid.
“no, i mean—” you hesitate, because now the question sounds ridiculous even to you. “the getaway cars?”
your coworker stares. “yeah. fucking stupid question.”
you give her a thumbs-up while she keeps complaining, but your mind does not stay with her for long.
you cannot stop thinking about the hair.
that blond. that exact shade. it could have been the light. it could have been your imagination, your brain reaching for him in the wrong place because you miss him more than you are willing to admit. you hadn't had time to see him much this week. you’d taken extra shifts to pay back the money you gave your friend for the oil change.
you don't regret it.
you just wish you had a better job.
you walk to the lockers, leave your uniform behind, and pull your real clothes back on. a loose t-shirt and an old pair of thrifted jeans that have softened with time.
in the full-length mirror on the wall, the yellow light makes your hair look darker than it really is.
there is no fucking way you could have confused his hair with anyone else’s.
your heart stumbles at the realization.
oh, god. that is where he goes every night. to be a getaway driver for criminals.
your lower lip catches between your teeth as the thought settles in.
does his boss know? does the woman with the grocery bags know? would he have trusted you with that kind of truth if you had met under different circumstances? if you had been someone else? if he had been someone else?
your coworker bangs on the door.
“what the fuck is taking you so long?” she yells. “you’re closing the store now.”
you huff in surprise, because she scares the hell out of you more often than she should. you hurry out and find her standing there, already irritated, keys wrapped around her hand, dangling them in front of you.
“i’m leaving now,” she says. “try not to get yourself killed. again.”
she laughs at her own joke and shuts the door behind her.
you start locking up every other door and window.
a car parks outside.
you don't think much of it at first. cars always use the lot at night. people leave their cars there overnight all the time.
but this one doesn't turn its lights off. the beams stay on, aimed directly at the door you are about to close.
your skin prickles.
for a second, your mind fills in a stranger in the driver’s seat, a drunk man, a threat with no shape yet, only intention. your pepper spray is in your bag, but you're not sure it would help enough to matter, fear feels familiar to you now.
still, you go outside.
you close the door behind you and the click of the lock sounds louder than it should. the awful part is that closing the door means you will be the one to open it tomorrow, too. but that almost feels impossible now. you're not sure you're going to sleep much at all. there are too many things about your mystery crush that need thinking through.
then your gaze shifts from your bag, to the car.
a silhouette stands against the hood, leaning there with an almost lazy stillness
the headlights of a ’73 chevrolet malibu hit your eyes directly, bright enough to make you half-close them. you lift a hand to shield your face.
as your vision adjusts, the silhouette becomes a person. you can see him now.
“you saw me?” he asks.
you nod, and then immediately regret nodding.
“yeah,” you say. “yeah, i did.”
“are you going to tell someone?” he asks.
“no,” you answer at once. then, quieter; “i don’t want you to get in trouble.”
he licks his lips. he doesn't have the toothpick with him tonight. you wonder, briefly, if he keeps one there to stop himself from biting his skin raw. if he is as restless as he looks.
“get in,” he says, opening the passenger door.
you do. without hesitation.
——
the city unfolds outside in streaks of amber and neon.
neither of you says a word.
the radio is on, but low enough to barely be heard. the window is down, and the wind brushes your face with the kind of cold that feels almost kind after the day you’ve had.
you wonder if he is going to say something. you’ve imagined talking to him in every possible way, in every possible version of yourself. you’ve thought of a hundred opening lines.
but your mouth refuses to open.
you steal a glance at him.
his hands stay firm on the wheel. his eyes stay on the road. he looks tense, though not from fear exactly. more like focus.
he doesn't look at you.
still, you have the feeling that every other sense he has is fixed on you.
you stop trying to think of something clever to say.
instead, you watch the city lights wash over him in blues and golds, turning his profile into something unreal for flashes at a time.
this is the closest you’ve ever been to him. at least physically.
then you notice a storefront passing behind him that looks familiar. the same stretch of road that runs just around the corner from your apartment.
fuck.
your head turns sharply towards him before you can stop it. he doesn't react. he keeps his eyes on the road, as if he cannot feel your stare boring into the side of his face.
the car slows, then stops outside your apartment building.
for a moment, neither of you moves.
“how did you know where i…?” you begin, and the question sounds ridiculous the moment it leaves your mouth. slightly hypocritical, too, which is almost embarrassing enough to swallow the rest of it. but he isn't you. he couldn't possibly…
he glances at you once, briefly.
“you need to be more careful,” he says.
you almost laugh.
him? talking about being careful? you have a whole board back home covered in photographs of him.
he gets out of the car and comes around to your side, opening the door for you. you understand the hint.
you step out, still looking at him.
he leans against the car and tips his head towards your building.
your face twists in confusion, but you do what he wants anyway.
you run up the stairs to your apartment, unlock the door faster than you ever have in your life, and drop your bag to the floor the second you get inside. then you go straight to the window.
he is still there, watching you.
you watch him back.
instead of feeling afraid, you move closer to the glass. he reaches into the pocket of his jacket and takes something out.
a cap.
one of those football caps with a stitched logo on the front.
you've seen that cap before.
but where?
you close the curtains and press your body against the window, trying to think, trying to pin the memory down before it slips away from you.
you have seen it before.
in the cafeteria. long before you noticed the white jacket, he had been sitting behind you.
how did you not recognize him?
you’ve seen that cap in the stairwell of your building, just behind you. you’ve seen it at the laundromat. long before that friday. long before you thought you were following one man when in truth he may have been following the edges of your life the entire time.
a shaky gasp leaves your lips.
you can hardly believe you didn't notice sooner. you notice everything.
your hand trembles as you pull the curtains open again.
he hasn't left. he is still watching your window, watching you.
"you have to get cracked by ryland grace, colt seavers, holland march, sebastian wilder and noah calhoun to save your friends" i'm prepared to make that sacrifice
ellievsbear
theartofmadeline
germansingergirl
andulkaphoto
yousharknotpass
prguitarman
dailybridgerton
stormborns
turnnoffyourmind
areudirty
