#dylan's stupid crush

[chaoticbooklesbian]

Is it normal to fall more in love with someone based on the music they send you for their D&D character? Asking for me because it keeps fucking happening

[dylannroofiedme]

why do I cry over dead school shooters??

[interloved]

nerdy!anakin skywalker who’s secretly a freak

requested by poll!

description box; the nerd with the glasses that tutors you turns out to be not so innocent after all. and he looks even more delicious without his glasses.

warning; heavy nsfw warning, mentions of cheating and an affair, porn with a bit of plot, anakin is a total pervert and freakyyyy, smut under the cut!, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

ANAKIN SKYWALKER IS A nerd, and it’s by default that he doesn’t associate with ‘your kind’.

the popular kind, the pretty kind.

the ones that run around with the football players, the kind of people that have this certain aura that just makes everyone look at them the second they walk into the room.

most of the popular people at your school were known to be arrogant douchebags, unintelligent jerks and vain bitches who thought they were above everyone else. but not you, though.

you were different. you were popular, really uniquely and breathtakingly beautiful, but your heart and soul were just as pretty as you. you also had a jerk of a boyfriend, and you really sucked at mathematics and physics. but luckily for you, your desk mate anakin skywalker, who also happens to sit next to you in physics classes, knows that. and also happens to be a very valued tutor.

“another D?”

anakin’s gaze is deplorable, his lips are pressed together in a pitiful way.

“yeah,” you wince as you examine the big, red D on your paper, “can’t say i didn’t expect it though. i thought the questions were really easy—maybe that should’ve given it away.”

anakin is hesitant, he doesn’t want to upset you—he knows you’ve been called stupid and dumb plenty of times by teachers, but really, he knows you’re not. really, you excel at subjects like history, english or music, you just… need a little tutoring. but he also knows you’re too prideful for that. you’ve never been bad enough at a subject to need tutoring, but you’ve been consistently getting D’s the whole year and there’s nothing anakin can do.

he would’ve let you copy his answers, but the teachers never look away during exams. he wouldn’t have done for just anyone—he would’ve only done it for you.

you’re the kindest person he’s ever met. you probably don’t remember but a couple of years ago, maybe a little more, he was getting bullied real bad. and not just by anyone, a guy named dylan. he was your boyfriend at the time. and still is. fucking asshole. anakin hated him passionately.

but you’d broken up with him after you’d caught him throwing punches into anakin’s stomach. you had yelled at him, even slapped him, you had taken anakin by the hand and went to the school nurse with him. and you were so kind to him. so sweet. so nice.

honestly, it shouldn’t have come as a surprise when he developed a huge crush on you. but he never confessed, he knew you were out of his league, and not his. especially after your (shitty asshole! anakin would treat you so much better) boyfriend dylan had apologised to him and you in a heartbreaking manner through a big gesture, and you had forgiven him.

ever since, dylan and anakin still give each other dirty glances and nasty glares, but he never laid hand on him again.

anakin would like to describe you and him as friends. you talked to each other in every class you had together, especially physics, because you sat next to each other, and you always greeted each other in the hallways.

but you have never hung out together and you’ve never been to his place, or he to yours.

“listen, maybe you… maybe i can study with you.” anakin muttered gently, carefully studying your face expressions as he made his suggestion.

your eyebrows formed into a frown, “you think that’ll help?”

anakin nodded, relieved you weren’t taking this as badly as he’d thought you would, “yeah, sure. i’m a tutor, you know? i can explain stuff pretty well.”

“oh, i wouldn’t want to impose—” you’re quick to deny, you hate bothering people.

fuck, you’re the sweetest person there is. truly an angel sent down from heaven. anakin made up his mind, right there. he would do anything to make you his.

“no, you’re not imposing. i want to. i want to do this for you.” he smiled, but seeing your hesitant face, he added, “besides, we’re friends. isn’t that what friends do for each other?”

a small smile tugged at your lips. “really? you… you’d do that for me? but i really don’t want to be a bother! you’re so smart and clever, you have so many tutees and you’re probably so busy—”

anakin would be replaying those words in his mind tonight. non-stop.

“listen, i really don’t mind. it’ll be like us hanging out. ‘kay? you don’t need to worry about it, i’m happy to be at your service.”

you hesitated for a second. and then you smiled, and anakin knew he’d won. “OK, then. it’ll be like a hangout.”

“it’s settled then,” he smirked at you, “my place? tomorrow afternoon?”

you laugh.

“your place, tomorrow afternoon.”

YOU HAD ABSOLUTELY NO idea how you ended up like this. in his bed. in this position. moaning and whimpering his name.

you were on all fours, legs trembling and quivering, your arms weak and the only thing that was holding you up was anakin’s toned arm, hooked under your waist, holding you up firmly as he thrusted into you.

you had never noticed it before, but his arm… looked so… delicious when it was flexed.

“that feel good, darling?” the smirk in his voice is all too evident, he got off on the way you were so fucking responsive to his every touch.

his hands went from caressing your thighs and kneading your ass to playing with your nipples and tugging back your hair.

“haven’t even begun properly fucking you and you’re already so soaked. does your boyfriend not fuck you, angel?”

your mind is nothing but chaos, and your stomach all fuzzy, and the only thing you can do is whine around his cock, writhing underneath him. you nod, you just nod because your boyfriend’s cock doesn’t kiss your cervix like this, your boyfriend’s cock doesn’t fit into your womb so fucking well, because your boyfriend doesn’t make you feel so, so, so good.

“n-need you to go faster…”

he kisses his teeth with his one, making a quiet ‘tsk’ sound. “that’s not very polite, demanding others like that. what’s happened to your manners, angel?”

he’s fucking you agonisingly and painfully slowly from behind, the question papers he brought and physics notes he made for you, just for you, carelessly scattered in front of you. your hands are gripping them as you moan.

“f-fuck, ani—please just… won’t you fuck me faster? can’t… can’t, ‘m not—hah—”

“all right, all right, doll,” he replies to you sweetly, bending over next to your ear, still thrusting into so painfully slowly, “only if you admit that you love me more than your boyfriend.”

your eyes widen. “b-but—”

“ah-ah. no buts. say it or i won’t let you cum.”

you loved your boyfriend. you did! but anakin just made you feel so, so good…

“love you more than my boyfriend,” you moan quietly, closing your eyes in shame.

“‘m sorry, what? i didn’t catch that.” he grinned teasingly.

“ani,” you whine, “don’t be like that.”

he laughs. “all right, all right. cum for me, doll.”

author’s note;

i have never written smut like this before. please have mercy on me 😭😭

[bellaxgiornata]

The Devil at Your Window |9: A Hard Problem|

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word count: 3.7k [Series Masterlist]

Warnings/Tags: 18+; fluff, flirting, sexual tension, light angst, pining, eventual smut, identity reveal, and lots of black suit Matty

a/n: Finally some spice has entered the story with our naughty, naughty Devil. Bad, Matt, you shouldn't be doing that! Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

Tag list: @danzer8705 @darkened-writer @keepingitlokiii @kezibear @dorothleah @sarahskywalker-amidala @1988-fiend @haruari @sleepysleepymom @marveious @sunflower-tia @fizanotfeeza @cloudroomblog @babygirlmurdock @writtenbyred @idontevenknow1359 @scriptedmoon @sarraa-26 @barnes21cz @loves0phelia @3sriracha @kmc1989 @midnightramble @marissamejia19

Chewing your nail, you stared down at the screen on your phone. You were currently on your lunch break mindlessly scrolling through The Bulletin's website for news updates in the city while you sat in the break room eating the lunch you'd brought from home. But when you'd almost immediately stumbled on a photo of the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen on their website, you'd paused mid-bite of your sandwich.

It had been over a week since he'd last stopped by your apartment. He'd even frequented your Devil’s Pantry far less than usual during that time. You'd thought that maybe he just hadn't been going out as often at night, possibly taking a break or recovering from an injury. Because in the past when you hadn't seen him much over a period of time, he at least still stopped by and grabbed some water and protein bars or packets of trail mix from the container you left out for him. But now sitting here and seeing this article on The Bulletin's website was proof to you that he wasn't sitting at home–wherever that was for him–and that he had in fact been out and active in Hell’s Kitchen this week. 

The title of the article had read ‘Masked Man Strikes Again,’ but you had barely managed to read the first few paragraphs before you'd scrolled back up to the poor quality photograph. You'd enlarged it on your phone, setting your sandwich down as the quality of the picture became worse when the image doubled in size. The index finger of your left hand lightly trailed along the line of his mask on his face, your heart sinking in your chest. 

You probably shouldn't have pushed your luck with him last week. Trying to further rile him up by talking about the date and the kiss with Dylan had in hindsight been a bad idea. You were certain now that the Devil had been keeping his distance from you because he thought you were seeing someone. Clearly this photograph of him slinking into an alley sometime in the past few days was proof of that since he was still lurking around the city at night. It meant that he was still going out, he just didn't want to see you.

Sighing at the realization, you exited out of the website and locked your phone before tossing the device hopelessly down onto the table. Burying your face into the palm of your hands, you wished you could scream into them. The Devil’s visits had been a welcome distraction from your mundane life ever since he'd fallen onto your fire escape. Wondering when he'd appear at your window next each day had been something to look forward to, as pathetic as that sounded. Now you might not even have that anymore. Would you ever find him standing on your fire escape again? Or was he just permanently done with you?

As you sat there with your face in your hands, you began doing what you'd been doing all week–imagining things had gone differently the last time you’d seen the Devil. You should have openly flirted with him more, or maybe even just flat out confessed your stupid crush to him. On the slight chance that he genuinely liked you–which would explain the jealousy–at least he would have finally known the truth. Maybe he would've returned to your window by now.

It also didn't help that the image of his perfect ass was now permanently ingrained in your mind after that last visit. Shamefully you'd recalled it a few different times this week already when you'd been in your bed missing him. With his absence these past few days, you'd been thinking about him at night more frequently than usual, finding yourself unable to resist touching yourself to thoughts of him when you lay awake in bed.

Shifting awkwardly on your chair as a burst of heat suddenly awoke inside of you at those thoughts, you tried to push them back as they threatened to take over even now. You felt pathetic sitting there knowing that it took hardly anything to get you wound up when it came to him, but now was certainly not the place to be thinking about the Devil. Not like that. Even though each time you got off to your growing fantasies of him, you only wound up feeling worse afterwards. Especially knowing what you now had just discovered–that he was still going out at night and intentionally avoiding you. 

All you wanted was for him to just come back to your window.

Matt had tried to avoid your apartment tonight like he'd done every other night that he'd been out this week, but somehow he'd found himself on top of your building anyway. 

He knew he should go. You'd made it clear that you were seeing someone. He shouldn't keep showing up and flirting with you just to get a rise out of you. If you were on your way to developing a relationship with someone then he knew he should respect that. 

But your absence from his nights out this week had him realizing just how much he'd grown to miss his banter with you. You always managed to make his bleak nights brighter and to say something surprising that kept him on his toes. He even missed the way you reacted just at the sight of him every single time he appeared at your window. Something about the way your heart skipped a beat before hammering in your chest as your pheromones went into overdrive in turn sent him into a frenzy–internally, of course. Because he wasn't going to ever actually act on his attraction to you.

Not that he could now since you were with that guy.

As he paced his way over to the edge of the building so he could drop down onto your fire escape, he told himself that he'd just stop by to see if you were even still leaving food and water out for him. If you were still filling the Devil’s Pantry, it'd be rude of him not to partake. 

The only reason he'd even allowed himself to stop by your fire escape tonight was also because he knew it was late. On his way over, he’d overheard a conversation where someone had mentioned that it was just after one in the morning. Considering you had work tomorrow, Matt knew you'd already be asleep. There was no risk of you catching him outside your window tonight. 

Landing with a soft thump on your fire escape, Matt remained in a crouch as he threw his senses into your apartment just to confirm what he’d already suspected. Rising to his full height as he picked up on your heart, he'd curiously noticed that it was beating faster than it should have been if you were asleep, which was strange since he'd caught the sound coming from your bedroom along with the faint rustling of your sheets. Which meant you were in bed right now. Had you woken in the middle of the night then? Or were you just struggling to fall asleep tonight?

Carefully he took two quiet steps closer to your window, trying to remain undetected as he attempted to figure out why you were awake so late tonight. But just as the toe of his boot met the side of the Devil’s Pantry that you had in fact left out for him beside your window, he heard a low buzzing sound while simultaneously being hit with the overwhelming and tantalizing scent of your arousal. The smell of it had momentarily struck him dumb as he stood outside on your fire escape, your shallow breaths suddenly loud in his ears.

That's when he realized what he'd stumbled on.

You were indeed in your bed right now–masturbating. He could hear the soft, wet sounds of your fingers methodically pumping in and out of yourself as he placed the faint buzzing noise as your vibrator. Unintentionally focusing closer on you inside, his senses quickly became overwhelmed by the shifting of your sheets as your body writhed along your mattress, the faint sheen of your sweat mingling with the sweet, siren call of your cunt even past the glass.

Stumbling a step back from your window, Matt roughly shook his head as he tried to clear his senses. He should not be listening to this. Especially because you were probably in there thinking about that guy right now. Grinding his teeth in irritation, Matt tried to focus on the sounds of anything else in the city right now–police sirens in the distance, a drunken fight two blocks away, an infomercial on the television two floors down–

Your soft moan tore through all the noise, somehow louder than all the rest. Matt felt his cock stirring further awake in his too tight pants.

“No,” Matt growled, sharply shaking his head again as he spun around on your fire escape. “Not like this.”

Trying to ignore the burning ache now growing between his thighs, he gripped the railing of your fire escape in both of his gloved hands. Shutting his senses off to the sounds of you inside of your apartment behind him, he flung himself over the side of the railing. He dropped down a couple of floors below onto another fire escape, his jaw tensing at the impact. But it didn’t help that the faint jolt when he’d landed had sent a tinge of pleasure through his thighs and straight up his spine. 

With a frustrated snarl, he tried to focus on anything else right now. Someone in the building next door was watching what sounded like an action movie, the sounds of screaming and explosions a helpful distraction. Keeping his attention on the movie as he attempted to place what it might’ve been, he once more threw himself over the side of this fire escape as he continued his descent down the building until he reached the pavement. But as he’d tried to catch his balance on that last drop, his concentration broke and your shallow breaths once more filled his ears. 

“Mmmph,” he heard you whimper a few floors above. “Fuck.”

The quiet curse had sounded as loud as if you’d whispered it straight into his own ear. Matt’s eyes snapped shut as he tried hard not to imagine the feel of your lips pressed to the shell of it as you’d spoken. Ducking around the corner of your building and into the nearby alley, your heavy breathing continued to plague Matt’s hearing. 

Roughly he slammed a gloved fist against the brick wall beside himself, an aggravated roar barreling forth from his chest as he fought to tune you back out. He felt like every other sound of Hell’s Kitchen was slipping through his grasp right now. He couldn’t manage to hold onto anything else for long enough to keep you out of his head, the sounds from your bedroom steadily growing louder and louder in his ears. The strain in his pants was becoming more and more urgent and unbearable with every ragged breath and soft squelch of your fingers.

Part of him was desperate to turn around and climb back up the building to your fire escape and find out if your window was still left unlocked. He wanted to throw it open and let the essence of your desire that was so clearly permeating the air seep into his very skin. He wanted to stalk into your bedroom and tear the sheets off of your partially naked body and hear your startled gasp. Then he wanted to attach his mouth to the places your vibrator was currently touching, desperate to hear the sounds you’d make when he brought you right to the brink. He wanted to feel the tremble in your thighs when they clamped tight around his face just before you came on his mouth. 

He wanted his fill of you. He wanted to take you from that asshole. Claim you as the Devil’s and show you how much better he was. How much better he could make you feel. How much louder he could make you scream and how many more orgasms he could give you. You’d never remember another name but the Devil’s when he was through with you.

Teeth clenched together, Matt once more slammed his fist into the brick beside himself and tried to focus on the throbbing in his knuckles instead of in his pants. His other hand rose up, running across his mouth in frustration. He was so ridiculously hard right now. Standing there in the alley, he felt his cock straining miserably against the confines of his already too-tight pants. It was uncomfortable, and the sounds of your breaths coming in even faster and sharper from above were only making things worse.

He should never have stopped by your damn apartment tonight.

He’d already been planning to head back to his apartment after yours to begin with, but now his desire to get back home had reached levels of utter desperation. There was no way he was going to be able to ignore the need for you now. He’d have to jerk himself off once he got home–and fast, because your whimpers were beginning to draw forth beads of pre-cum that were dampening the front of his boxers. If he didn’t make it back home soon, he’d probably lose it in your alley just listening to you fingering yourself.

“This is pathetic,” he snarled to himself.

Attempting to pay attention to his surroundings, Matt began to make his way back towards his apartment. Though no matter how much he kept trying to focus on literally anything else–a couple arguing a block over, the chatter of a group of people having a cigarette outside a nearby bar, even the ear piercing sound of a car alarm–your soft moans kept breaking through every other noise in the city. For some horrible reason his senses just refused to ignore you no matter how much he kept trying.

Each step he took as he awkwardly jogged back towards his apartment building was awful. His cock felt damn near ready to rip open the seams of his pants with how hard it had become, and he was aware of how strange his gait was–he'd never had to manage getting back home with an erection before and it felt absolutely embarrassing. Worse than tearing the ass of his pants. Repeatedly he’d fought the urge to reach down and even brush a hand over the hard bulge in his pants, hungry for any sort of stimulation to relieve the throbbing, painful desire that was taking over his every thought. His own breath had started to come in sharp, staccato pants as he made it over to his block across the street from yours, slinking around to the back of his building.

You were thinking about that guy , Matt tried to remind himself in the hopes of increasing his anger instead of his arousal as he began to climb the side of his building, making his way towards the roof. That’s what you were doing right now. Pleasuring yourself to thoughts of some other asshole who had no idea how amazingly selfless and thoughtful you were. Some asshole who didn't know that you liked to add extra chocolate chips to your boxed brownie mixes or how you stress cleaned when you were upset. He had no damn clue that you liked to burn marshmallow scented candles and watch romantic dramas before bed, or that you liked to curl up on your couch with two blankets instead of one. 

And right now your mind was conjuring images of that other guy’s face while you vigorously fingered yourself– not his. And he hated that.

Matt's angry thoughts only backfired as the Devil’s fury and frustration only lead to his increased desire to further prove his sexual prowess to you. He kept imagining climbing in through your window instead of making his way back home and pushing you up against the wall before tearing those sweatpants you often wore right down your legs. He'd stuff his fingers deep inside of you until your knees wanted to give out and your moans broke off on sharp gasps. Then he'd bend you over the back of your sofa, digging his fingers into the soft flesh of your hips as he buried his cock into you over and over while your hands uselessly clawed at the fabric of your couch for something to hold onto. 

“Yesyesyesyesyes-”

Matt’s hand briefly lost its grip on the side of the building as the sound of you about to cum slammed into his ears. He’d momentarily slipped, catching himself at the last moment before he could actually fall down two floors and land painfully on his back. 

“Shit,” he cursed.

If he didn’t focus, he’d end up not only cumming in his pants on the side of his building, but probably landing unconscious on someone’s fire escape right afterwards. And for obvious reasons, he didn’t need that to happen.

Squeezing his eyes shut tight, Matt tried hard to focus on something else. He noticed that someone in a nearby apartment on the fourth floor had burnt chicken in their oven only a couple of hours ago. It smelled so terrible that he could smell it even from outside, the scent practically burning his nostrils. Trying to stay focused on that, Matt finished climbing his way up to the roof. But as he'd pulled himself up and over onto the top of the building, he'd bumped himself against the concrete and let out a sharp groan of pleasure and pain.

In his momentary distraction, he once more could hear you from across the street, your growing whimpers only somewhat muffled by the distance, but they hadn't remotely lost their effect on him. Practically limping towards the roof access door that led back to his apartment, Matt finally caved. One gloved hand landed straight onto the bulge in his pants.

“Ah-ah-ah,” he hissed out.

He was so wound up that the slight pressure over his pants already had him about ready to cum. Hurrying faster towards the door, he sharply flung it open and darted inside his apartment. He'd had his pants unbuckled and his zipper undone before the door had even shut behind himself. Not even taking the time to make his way down the stairs to his living room, Matt's gloved hands shoved his pants and his boxers midway down his thighs, his hard cock springing forth in relief before he began frantically tugging at his gloves.

“Oh fuck-shit-yesyesyes-”

“He'd never fuck you like I could,” Matt caught himself growling at you, tossing his gloves to the floor before wrapping a hand around his freed cock. “Promise you that, angel. I'd–oh fuck– ” 

A strangled groan flew out of his throat as he pumped himself into his hand just once, your building high-pitched whimpers already easily dragging him along towards an orgasm with you. He felt perverse for what he was doing right now, aware it was wrong, but he couldn't seem to stop. He’d already tried so hard to ignore you that now he’d just given in, his hand vigorously stroking his aching and overstimulated cock.

“I'd make you feel ten times better than he ever could,” he ground out through teeth, his hips bucking forward into his hand in punctuation with his words. “I'd –ahh shit– make you–feel–sogoddamngood. ”

He heard your sharp gasp which was soon followed by the noise of something like a moan mixed with a broken whimper, the delicious noise sounding as if you'd just finally cum. Anger and need simultaneously mingling together inside of him like an all consuming fire, his toes curling inside of his boots, Matt felt that distinct surge of his own release racing up his spine as he continued to fuck his hand. 

“He–can’t–have you !” he roared into the room.

Warm, thick strands of his cum spilled forth, coating Matt's hand as he continued to work himself through his release. His breath was coming in rough, ragged pants now as he leant up against the wall nearby, entirely spent from the release and having tried so hard to block you out. Thankfully now the sound of you in your bedroom was no longer easy for him to hear, but the reason as to why he hadn’t been able to tune that particular private moment of yours out still eluded him.

Throwing his head back against the wall behind himself, Matt let out a frustrated groan. Not only should none of that have just happened, but now he had to face the very real fact of what he'd been denying for awhile. He was attracted to you and he wanted you. Badly. But you weren't available anymore, and even if you were, he highly doubted you were the type to get intimate with a masked man you knew nothing about. You didn't seem like the no-strings-attached-sex type. Though Matt also knew that wasn't a good idea anyway. That would not happen, he wouldn't let it.

Still trying to catch his breath, Matt reached up and tore the mask from off his head with his clean hand. Balling the fabric into his fist, he let out an irritated grunt for a different reason now. He wanted you but he was aware that he'd never be able to have you in any physical way because you could never know who he actually was. There was no way he’d ever reveal his real identity to you, and it wasn’t right for him to act on any of his desires when you knew nothing about him. Besides, he reminded himself bitterly, you were still with that guy . 

Matt expelled a long, sharp breath in frustration. He knew after what had just happened that he'd also have to keep avoiding your place. Because he wasn't sure he could just stick to the teasing banter with you after what he’d just done, not with the things he was aching to do to you still running through his mind. He’d just have to keep trying to avoid you.

[captain-huggy-bear]

Treat You Right

Pairing: Clayton Keller x Fem!Reader

Warnings: unwanted advances, men not taking no for an answer, Clayton's involved in a fight.

Summary: You're not dating Clayton Keller, but there's one thing he can't stand and that's a guy not treating you with respect...turns out he hates it enough to fight a guy in a bar after a game.

Notes: All I have to say is i'm in my Clayton brain rot era.

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

It's a normal night or it starts that way. Being friends with a bunch of pro-athletes means you're often dragged out after home game wins to whatever bar they decide is best that night. Tonight it's Sunny's, a common choice for the Utah Hockey Club because of the pool table, dart board and the fact that most of the people who come in are old middle age men or contractors. Guys, who might ask for an autograph but not the usual screaming crowd that make it impossible for them to have a drink or two.

You never really had being friends with the lot of them on your bucket list, but Michael had met you when he'd taken his cats to the vets and you'd been there with your own, a fat black moggie called Gremlin who'd fallen in love with Ranger. From that point on cat dates had been a thing because in Kess' words 'you can't separate true love', you weren't entirely sure whether Gremlin loved Ranger or just wanted to lick the other cat bald.

Either way the moment you became friends with Kess was the moment you became friends with the entire team, suddenly you were being asked to events, invited to home games and the celebratory drinks after. It was nice, for the most part you felt like you were their sister, someone for them to look after but also mock, just as much as you made fun of them. You had a little community, a gang, a group where you belonged even if you weren't actually on the team.

The exception to that rule being Clayton Keller...you definitely did not want to feel like Clayton Keller's sister.

It was bound to happen, that you'd have a crush on at least one of the team. It wasn't really your fault, and well, Clay had this way of treating you, all soft and sweet and like a girl, that had you flushing under his attention and preening at any compliment he gave you. You were almost certain it was a one-sided crush doomed to go nowhere and leave you pining after the captain until you settled for some mediocre guy in finance. He was just so nice to you, so sweet.

Still, Clay was half the reason you'd agreed to come out to Sunny's that night. Determined to spend some time with or at least around him. You'd even gone home to change after the game into a nice dress before coming back out again because maybe, just maybe, this would be the night that Clayton Keller realised you were the girl he wanted.

You're waiting for your coca cola at the bar, leaning on your forearms and watching the room from over your shoulder. Kess and Dylan were playing a game of pool in the corner, Kess appearing to be losing based on the glare he was sending Dylan's way. The rest of the guys were sat around their usual table, beers in hand laughing and joking. Your eyes find Clayton like he's a magnet, he's smirking at something O'Brian's said, Tuna probably making some stupid dirty joke or telling a story at the expense of Kess.

"Hey, pretty..." You're pulled out of your people watching by a slurred drawl far too close to your ear for comfort. Your eyes shift to the man next to you, who might have been considered handsome if he wasn't staring at your boobs so blatantly that you suddenly understood what a tasty pastry felt like in a patisserie window. It wasn't particularly flattering.

You shift away from him as much as you can without appearing rude because he'd managed to somehow sneak up on you and get within inches of your ear. Something you're sure he thought was seductive but just made your shoulders tighten and your body tense.

"Hi." You try to keep your tone short, not wanting to encourage the man but hating to feel like you're being unnecessarily rude as well.

"Can I buy you a drink, baby?"

"I'm good, thanks." You gesture at the soft drink your bartender just placed in front of you, thankful that this is your cue to leave and return to the safety of a group of hockey players.

Unbeknownst to you in that moment Marino is nudging Kells with his elbow, chin gesturing in your direction. You look uncomfortable, the way you're shifting away from the man leering at you, practically leaning over you, says enough. Every time you shift away from him, he shifts closer and it's clear to Clayton that you'd rather be anywhere else.

He can't help it, the way it makes his hackles rise, the way his fist clenches tight around his beer bottle as he takes another swig, forcing himself to be cool, to just let you handle it for a moment. It's not like you're dating, it's not like he has any right to storm over there and maybe he's wrong...maybe you're interested in the guy leering down at you like you're a piece of meat. Maybe he's more your type than Clay is.

He doesn't really blame the guy for showing interest. You're beautiful, always, but...there's something about the way you look tonight. Maybe it's that your dress accentuates your hips or the fact that the colour makes your skin look like its glowing...or maybe Clayton is just a little weak for you. That's not exactly a new revelation for him. He's been weak for you since day one.

"Seriously, baby, that's not a real drink, let me get you a real drink."

"I'm good." You stress your point this time, snatching your drink back from the man who just tried to take it off you and straightening to walk back to the guys. Any pretence of politeness dropped because you don't have to deal with this and you aren't going to.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going?" It's a shift in attitude that you should have expected, you've seen it before, but you don't expect the hand that wraps around your wrist to stop you walking away, your drink spilling as you're jerked to a stop. His hand is tight, uncomfortable so and the situation has gone from irritating to frightening, fear running down you're spine because this strange man has his hands on you.

Your eyes find Clay's almost instinctively, wide and scared but he's already out of his seat and shoving people out of the way with short, sharp apologies as he goes. It's not like he's alone either, half the team are now looking your way, waiting to see if their captain needs any help or not. Looking to see if they need to also step in.

"Get the fuck off me." Still, in the time it takes Clay to reach you you try to shake the man off, glaring up at him like it might help. It doesn't, if anything his grip tightens and he pulls you closer, a hand reaching for the skin of your thigh like he has any right to touch you.

It's that that has Clay seeing red. Going from thinking he'd calmly intervene to storming between the two of you like a bull in a china shop. It must be the surprise of someone intervening that does it, but the man let's your wrist go and Clay's pushing you gently back and out of the way before he's letting a fist fly at the guy's face without so much as a word towards the other man.

"Shit, Clay...What the fuck are you doing?!" All you can do is take another step back, hands coming to your mouth because out of all the guys on the team, Clay's the last one you expect to be starting a fight in a bar with a guy at least a head taller than him.

He doesn't answer you because he's too busy fighting, you're so shocked, so focused on what's happening in front of you, that you jump when Kess brushes your shoulder, pool having been deserted in favour of helping O'Brian and Marino pull the two men apart.

Despite the size difference Clay's winning or it looks like he's winning, you're pretty certain he's broken the other guy's nose and even with a bloody busted lip, he doesn't look winded or ready to stop. Part of you hates it. A stupid display of male pride and dominance that you should not condone at all...another part of you feels a thrill at Clayton fighting on your behalf, at the blood speckles across his white dress shirt, at the bruising on his knuckles, at the way he licks the blood from his busted lip and smirks at the guy sarcastically. Like he's completely and utterly in control.

You're not sure he's going to stop, eyes feral, mouth pursed, huffing like an angry bull when Kess finally has him round the shoulders and starts pulling him away. Tuna doing the same to the stranger. But, Clay does stop, just shrugs Kess off with sharp movements, "I'm fine. He won't be if he doesn't fucking leave though."

It's Tuna that escorts the stranger out of the bar and you're certain the only thing stopping the bar owner from kicking Clay out is the fact he's a local celebrity who brings in half the customers.

"What the hell, Clay?" You're still shocked by the brute display of force from him, not scared, just surprised. You can't deny there's a certain appeal to it. To the way he looks at you as he wipes blood from his chin, how his large hands clench and unclench testing his knuckles for a break. They're just bruised. He's hot...hotter than usual and you kind of hate that you feel that way, like you're setting feminism back 100 years. But, God...

“No one gets to treat you like that, you hear me? No one.” He can't stand it. The entitlement to grab you, the belief that anyone has a right to touch you without permission, to talk to you like that. He's half a mind to chase after Tuna and the guy, to keep going, but he knows he shouldn't...he's already done more than he probably should have. Headlines in the morning no doubt already looking like 'Utah Captain beats local man in bar brawl!'.

"That...you can't just fight someone for being a asshole," You can see Kess gesturing for everyone to give the two of you privacy as Clay steps into your personal bubble. He's still amped up, chest heaving like he wants another fight, lips parted to take in more air. You hate that you want to take a bite out of him, you hate that you want him to take that energy out on you in a completely different way than fighting.

"Why the fuck not?"

"Because...because..." all you can come up with is, "I'm not your girlfriend, Clay...you don't have to defend me."

He looks at you like you're an idiot, the only time he's ever looked at you like that. Like you're daft and it makes you flush with warm embarrassment because why couldn't you think of something better to say.

"No one gets to treat you like dirt. Like a piece of meat. Like he owns you, okay? Doesn't matter if you're my girlfriend or not, men better treat you with respect or they're dealing with me."

"Clay...I get it, you're a woman loving, modern man but..." You're convinced this whole display is just part of his gentlemanly stick, his righteous desire for fairness and justice in the world and nothing to do with you. it would be cute how oblivious you are, if he wasn't so fed up with it.

"And before you start that shit, yeah, I'd defend any woman in here, but I sure as fuck wouldn't be throwing punches over anyone else, baby." Clay runs his hands through his hair frenetically, the strands messy and loose, hat non-existent for once.

You feel like your head is spinning, buzzing, confused because surely he's talking about the fact you're kind of friends, that you're not a stranger. He can't possibly mean...he called you baby? When did Clay ever call you baby?

His laugh is sardonic, disbelieving as he watches the way you stare at him, all wide eyed and confused like he hasn't been trying to flirt with you for the past six months that you've known each other. Like he doesn't try to compliment you every time he sees you. Like he didn't give you his number the very first day so you could meet up. Like he's not totally irrevocably in love with you.

"Do I need to spell it out for you, sweetheart?" He's being a bit abrupt, a little bit mean in a way Clay normally isn't with you. Not quite so soft and he'll apologise for that later but he's still angry about the whole thing and you're obliviousness to his feelings feels like a slap in the face, like he's not good enough for you to even comprehend the idea of something more with. You don't owe him anything, but fuck, he's frustrated with the ignorance of it all.

"You're not my girlfriend, but I sure as hell want you to be and I've been flirting with you for six months and if you're just not interested that's fine, I'll still be in your corner, but I need to know if I'm just wasting my time waiting." This time when you're backed against the bar top by a man, it's by Clay, and it's wanted. He's in your space but with enough room that he's giving you an out, you can slip under his arm and leave at any moment. But you don't.

"You like me?" It's every dream you've had about Clay, every want, rolled up into one. The way he barricades you in on the bar top. The smell of his cologne. The warmth of him. The intense stare of baby blue eyes as he tells you he actually likes you, that your stupid, silly little crush isn't actually as one-sided as you thought.

"Only been flirting with you since the moment we met, baby."

"You've been flirting with me?" You lean back to get a better look at his face, your mouth dropped in shock. In turn he leans back to look at you in a similar manner, eyebrows high, blue eyes blinking in confusion.

"Are you serious?"

"Fuck...I thought...I thought you weren't interested...I thought...I thought you didn't like me back..." You're practically having an existential crisis between his arms because he's just admitted he likes you that he's been flirting with you for months, that all your pining and your moping has been for literally nothing.

"Back?" Clay's smile is starting to grow, the one you adore, all teeth and dimples as he picks up on that one seemingly insignificant word and prods at it. As if that word has put all the frustration, all the anger, all the bad feelings of the night instantly to rest.

"I..."

"Do you like me, baby?" He's all teasing smirks and half-lidded eyes now, leaning back into your space so close that you're chest to chest, nose to nose. So close you can feel the warmth of his breath on your lips. So close it makes you stutter and freeze.

"Clay..." Your eyes dart to all your friends, all eyes on the two of you as you flush warm, cheeks growing supremely hot because fuck, Clayton Keller looks like he's about to kiss you in the middle of a bar with the entire team watching like they need popcorn.

You watch Clayton's eyes flicker to catch the audience watching, the way he takes a moment to pause, to think, whatever impulsive decision he had being put to rest for the moment.

"C'mon..." His hand is wrapping around yours in no time, tugging you along and out of the bar, away from prying eyes as if that isn't just as blatant, just as obvious as kissing you in front of all of them or whatever he might have planned to do. There's part of you that wonders if this might be all some big joke he's about to play, the insecure part, the little girl from your childhood part, that feels like he might turn around and laugh with a loud 'as if!'.

You let him lead you outside, the night air cool against your arms, the sort of chill that makes goose bumps raise on your arms. He doesn't even hesitate before shrugging off his jacket and throwing it over your shoulders, his arm coming to rest there, tucking you into his side like you belong, like its natural for him to do.

You don't speak as you walk, scared to break the silence until you come to a stop a few streets down in front of a shop that Clay had parked across from earlier in the night. No one is around but you and that's what gives him the confidence to push you against the brick wall of the shop, to lean back into your space and ask the question that he never got an answer to.

"Do you like me, baby?" It's more intimate this time, but less pressured. There are no eyes on you, there are no bright bar lights or teammates getting an eyeful. Something about the dimness of the night, the cool air, the feel of his jacket over your shoulders and him, oh him, leaning into your space again, has you answering honestly.

"Yeah, yeah I do..."

There's a silent conversation that happens as his hand comes up to rest against your throat, thumb rubbing against the underside of your chin. He watches you carefully and you try to answer him without words, that you want this, that you really do like him.

Whatever Clay sees must be enough because he's leaning in slow, just slow enough for you to dip out if he's misread the situation, hand tightening just slightly around your throat before his lips are slanting over yours.

It's not a frantic kiss, not forceful or aggressive. He kisses you like a slow dance, like your the sweetest thing he's ever tasted and he's trying to savour it, enjoy it for as long as he can. Lips soft and slow against yours, tongue licking into your mouth unhurried and patient. If anyone is impatient it's you, your hands tangling into his hair and tugging until he groans against you, until that patience breaks just enough for him to start devouring your mouth like he's a glutton for you.

When Clayton finally pulls back from you you're both heaving in breaths, chests bumping against each other and lips kiss bitten. The smile he gives you is so soft, so sweet it makes you want to melt into a puddle, his eyes crinkling as just a hint of his teeth comes out to play.

"Can I take you on a date?" His nose bumps against yours, purposeful in the brush against your own like he can't stand to be too far away from you right now.

"Yeah, you can take me on a date, Clayton Keller."

"Good, cause I really need an excuse to punch the next guy that looks at you funny," He jokes causing you to let out a huff of a laugh, hand escaping his hair to whack his shoulder admonishingly.

"Don't you dare!"

[galactic-magick]

Flirting Failures PART 2: Mr. Milchick x Reader

Link to Part 1

Words: 1.1k

(Thank you so much for all the love on Part 1! Still gender-neutral reader, use of Y/N, and no S2 spoilers)

-

You feel something on your face as you go up the elevator, bringing your fingers to your cheek at the familiar ding. It’s wet, and your eyes feel watery. Was your innie just crying?

You switch your things from your locker, head up the stairs, and run to your car as quickly as you can, pulling out your phone as soon as you shut the door.

You click on Seth Milchick’s contact, something you do probably way more often than you’re supposed to. But you don’t care much for those particular rules, especially because he’ll tell you things that you can’t find answers for anywhere else.

“Y/N! What can I help you with so soon after your workday?” he asks.

“Why was my innie crying? I came up the elevator with tears actively streaming down my face. Did something happen to them?”

You’re very protective over your innie, a feat you’ve found is actually pretty rare in the severed community. Other people you’ve talked to don’t even see their innies as an extension of themselves, just a different consciousness to experience everything they don’t want to, something they don’t even see as a person. But you genuinely care about this other version of you, and you’d hate to find out they’re getting hurt in any way.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make them cry.” Seth responds. “You see, your innie tried to...flirt with me today.”

You can’t help but chuckle a bit at that.

“Well, it’s good to know my innie also has good taste, at least. What did I do?”

“You…” there’s a beat of silence, as if deciding whether to respond to your comment, “I can’t really say specifics, but I let them down gently, since there’s rules against co-worker relationships. But maybe they took it harder than I thought.”

Now it’s your turn to be silent.

You try to get the situation straight in your head, setting aside the initial humor of it all. Your innie made a move before you did, got rejected, and was so distraught they were brought to tears? And now every time you go back in that elevator, you’re sending your innie back to face the man who broke their heart?

Of course your innie would have the confidence you never could. You’ve been crushing on Milchick since you met him, but you never pursued anything beyond talking to him on the phone every so often. And now that you know your innie has feelings for him too, wouldn’t it be unfair for you to have something with him that they can’t? You’d be, what, stealing him from yourself?

Your thoughts are tied in impossible tangles, so much that you nearly forget he’s still on the line. What are you supposed to say?

“Y/N?” his voice cuts through.”

“Sorry, I just…” you exhale. “I feel bad for them.”

“I know. And for the record, I didn’t want to let them down.”

“You didn’t?”

“No, I—“ you hear muffled voices. “I have to go. Important meeting with Ms. Co-”

He hangs up.

-

You’re almost done with you file now, and honestly you couldn’t care less.

You should be excited to win your first prize, but none of them appeal to you anymore. What is a perk worth when you can never experience the depth of human connection? What do you care about some stupid material object or party when there’s no escape when it’s done?

You’re not quite sure why it all hit you so hard yesterday. Something about pretending to fancy Mr. Milchick made you realize you actually do, and how much you’ve actually wanted to experience love in this life. All of your friends in MDR do too, really. Irvings excessive visitations with O&D lately haven’t gone unnoticed, nor Mark’s longing glances at Helly. Heck, even Dylan talks about his fantasies of how many women his outie must be pulling. You all crave love and escape to some degree, and none of you can have either of them.

Is this to be the rest of your existence? Just sorting numbers? Never experiencing sleep or the outdoors? Waiting for the next round of 8 hours?

“Y/N? May I have a word?”

You look up, entirely not thrilled to see Mr. Milchick in the doorway. Still, you do as he says, following him into the hallway.

“I wanted to tell you that I got a call from your outie yesterday. They said you were crying on your way up the elevator. I thought we resolved the issue, there was no need to cry.”

“Really?” you raise your brows. “You called me out here just to tell me when I should and shouldn’t cry?”

“No, I—“

“Right, because we can’t leave, can’t have more than two vending machine snacks, can’t ask what we’re doing, can’t explore the floor…Oh! And we can’t cry whenever the fuck we want! Is there anything else you want to tell me we can’t do?”

He takes a deep breath.

“I meant I was confused. I assure you, I didn’t intend to hurt your feelings.”

“Look, I’ll keep my promise of backing off so you don’t get in trouble. But I never promised to not have feelings. You told me you care about me, and that made me a little emotional, okay? Are you going to send me to the Break Room again for that?”

“No, I’m not.”

“Then how about you leave me alone for a little while.”

You walk past him back into the office, and he doesn’t follow.

“What’s he going on about now?” Dylan asks.

“Just checking to make sure I’m behaving, I guess.” you shrug, getting back into your seat.

“Why wouldn’t you? You don’t actually like him, do you?”

“None of your business, Dylan.”

“Fuck, are you serious?”

You ignore him, binning a few more sets of numbers.

“Y/N! Tell me you’re not fucking serious!”

You aggressively push down the divider between your desks, giving him the middle finger before pulling it back up.

-

Seth never called you back after that day, and you’ve chosen not to bother him for answers again just yet. He’ll tell you when he’s ready, right? Won’t he?

You find yourself thinking about your innie again. What are they really like? Do they act the same way you do? Talk the same way you do? Seth tells you bits and pieces, but you don’t really know this other version of you. And will you ever?

What if your innie is your better half? What if a life in a controlled environment makes you a better person?

What if he likes you better in there than out here? Or the other way around?

You didn’t consider this specific consequence of the procedure when you agreed to it, that’s for sure.

-

(Let me know what you guys think of the switching innie and outie POVs! And let me know if you're interested in more parts!)+

[nazgulpridefest]

Unnecessarily long rant post about various tcc related things

(selfships, ships, bad headcanons, columposers, "femcels")

I like actually hate tcc selfships so much, I don't care when people say freaky shit about tcc people cause most the time they're joking and I do it too. But like genuine selfships, like drawing themselves or an self insert or an oc with tcc people (what am I even supposed to call them)

Like I hate seeing those blogs where it's like "Dylan's little girl >.<" (extremely directed, you know who you are..). Or like drawing themselves with their favs (in a not joking way), even edits and "___ x oc/reader" fics. Theres another person on TikTok who makes edits of them x Andrew blaze, it makes me so mad cause I think im finding a cool edit and then I get flash banged with some randoms face.

Also I really don't care for the "well what if they're coping, this is a coping mechanism" argument like no, I don't care, cope some other way WITHOUT SHIPPING YOURSELF WITH KILLERS. Having a crush or intrest in a tcc person is okay but like genuinely shipping yourself with them is lowk kinda weird. Cause like I hate seeing people ship themselves with Eric or Dylan (in a serious sense, not a stupid funny haha) and they're everything Eric and Dylan hate. Like I hope you know they would've shot you if they knew about that

The selfshippers are usually so annoying too, like "ohemgee!!!! Don't say that abt Dylan he's mine!!1!1!1!" And then you get doxxed or some shit, like please go outside and touch some grass. Half the time they're greasy as hell or those "ohmigod I'm such a femcel lol!! >__<" just bcuz they're tcc and a female whose just a little different.

It's a little different with movie tcc people, like Andre and Cal because they are fictional and didn't actually shoot up a school. Even those ones are on thin ice, but I don't see as much of them luckily but I do see a lot of shitty Caldre.

Shitty Caldre as in Calvin is suddenly a AuDHD he/they shy femboy and Andre is a big tough guy whose actually secretly a big softie for cal and they go on little dates. Like no oh my god you clearly did not watch the movie, the only way I think of them as "dating" (using this VERY loosely) is them just being normal teenage boys, like when guys their age flirt because they're close friends. Sometimes a little bit of Caldre is okay but only when they're properly displayed the same way they are in the movie. Same with dylric, they were just close friends and had a distaste for gay people (from what I know) and I don't really know how to feel about dylric, but anytime I see one of those "Eric and Dylan kissing and being gay boyfriends >___<" posts I cry a little.

Plus the bad headcanons attached to both pairings, like I just wanna rip my hair out everytime I see one of those long headcanon posts and there's not a single good one, it's always like the "when they cuddle.." things. If I'm gonna take time out of my day to read a headcanon sheet it better be good, or bad fanfics like why am I even reading this. Sometimes bad fanfics are good but it's always the like 100-500 word ones that make me want to peel off the first layer of my skin, cause you can tell what kind of person is lurking behind that screen, it's probably some 11/12 year old that found out about zero day but never watched the movie. I feel like sometimes most people in the zero day fandom never watched the movie, also personal opinion I don't think that Andre self harms if I'm being so real here. Like I get where they're coming from with Cal but I don't get it with Andre.

I also don't like the people who dress like Cal and Andre, I own the shirts and sometimes I wear them but I never genuinely dress up as them, I usually wear them around my house, it's more of a "oh no I have no clean laundry" and I just have to wear it. But like people who go into full cosplay, like I saw someone genuinely buy a wig for it, like please ohmygyat. It just feels like seeing a columposer and I have a hatred for columposers, like tell me why you thought it was a good idea to leave your home in a wrath or natural selection shirt, like Columbine isn't underground, it was a real national tragedy.

Liking Columbine is fine as long as you aren't doing anything weird or harmful, but I feel like dressing as them puts you in both categories. But they always think they're so cool, it's always the most basic Columbine fans. They always listen to KMFDM or Rammstein and if they're trans (9 times out of 10 they usually are) they go by Dyl or Dylan. Plus they just take all of their personality from Eric and Dylan, it's always those intro posts that are like "name: Dylan music: KMFDM drink: Dr Pepper".

Please get a real personality oh my god 😢😢 cause I see like 20 people like that a day, please can we get some originality in this community. But the kind of columposers I hate the most is the ones that think they're the next Eric Harris, like calm down edge lord you're 14... they're manifestos always sound the same like "I hate everybody..... nobody understands me... they're all gonna feel my wrath... I'm gonna be worse than Eric and Dylan could ever be... mwhahahahah..." like shut up oh my god. You are not Eric's top guy bud, then they own a natural selection shirt and when they try to actually shoot up their school they just get caught cause it's always the people in private school trying to be the next Columbine. Like it's not my fault you live in the suburbs chill out.

It's so annoying to come on this app or look at the news and it another retard who thinks they're the second coming. And I have no shame admitting that I hate that Samantha chick, she honestly seemed so fucking annoying. And I hate the stupid "ERM... if you hate her you're misogynistic..." like what 😭. Just because she's a girl doesn't mean I'm a bad guy for hating her, I wasn't thinking about her gender when I decided I hated her ass. There's a new case every week, she's not special. She honestly was the worse thing I've heard about, everytime I hear about her I want to gouge my eyes out, she was just a supreme edge lord who thought she could be Eric. She thought she was so special for hating women like she wasn't a woman, like how fucking stupid are you, plus it's kinda pathetic how she only killed two people (all respect towards them) and then just killed herself, like oh my god at that point just kill yourself in your own house.

I also know the argument of Adam being a columposer is gonna come up, like "how are you gonna say you hate columposers but you worship one". Like yes I'm aware of the fact his shooting was "inspired" by columbine but he was also delusional as hell, like he was an autistic schizo that didn't leave his house. There was a lot more going into that shooting than just Columbine in mind, I don't really think of him as a columposer because it was a lot of psychological issues as well but I get where people are coming from when they say he's a columposer.

But still on the topic of Samantha and her being a woman hater, I just fucking hate femcels, not real femcels but "femcels >___< 🎀" LIKE OH MY GYAT. You aren't a femcel you delusional creep, you're just a female on tumblr get over it, you aren't special. Theyre all the same too, I feel like all femcel accounts are run by the same person. Theyre always some cutecore shit and have micro bangs, they all look the same.

Being a femcel or just an incel is just being frustrated with the lack of sexual or romantic opportunity in their life, that is the dictionary definition. You aren't a femcel if you bedrot, like Columbine, tcc in general, cutecore, hate women or men, if you're just delusional, or a Sematary fan. I feel like no one actually knows what being an incel or femcel means and it pisses me off so much because it's like saying the sky is green. Like you aren't a femcel, there's literally men in your dm's and you have a boyfriend shut up oh my god. It's just so infuriating seeing people being wrong all the time, I hate when I see false information.

It just makes me so mad and that's what most of this rant has been about, I hate seeing people be wrong like you're wrong because this tcc person would've hated you so much. You're wrong because that's not how these people were displayed in the movie. You're wrong because you're not gonna be the next Eric and Dylan. You're wrong because you're not a real femcel.

Sorry if this came off as annoying in anyway but I feel like i genuinely needed to get that off my chest cause im tired of it all.

[lee-laurent]

Summer Boy - Quinn Hughes

Summary: When Jack brings his best friend to the family lake house for the summer, Quinn realizes the crush he's been harbouring for years may not be one-sided, the only issue his youngest brother is already making moves.

Content: slight angst, fluff, heated make-out

notes: let me know what you think!! this is my first fic on here and i def need to work on getting back into writing :D def not my best work, i don't love it but here we go. def can do a part 2 if anyone wants

Elwyn leaned her head against the cold window of the car, feeling the vibrations reverberate through her body. Jack had fallen asleep about half an hour into the drive, and Elwyn wasn't sure how to join Cole and Trevor's conversation without it being awkward. Quinn, Luke, and some of Luke's college friends were driving up in another car, leaving Elwyn alone and bored for the last few hours.

"You doing alright back there, Winnie?" Cole smiled, catching the brunette's attention from the back seat.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, I'm fine. Jack's snoring is getting on my nerves though."

Cole chuckled, catching a glimpse of his friend in the rearview mirror.

"Well, you better wake him up; we'll be there in ten," Trevor laughed.

Elwyn nodded, pushing her best friend as hard as she could while restrained by her seatbelt.

"Ahhh! What the fuck, Winnie? I was sleeping"

Winnie just shrugged. Jack rolled his eyes in response, pouting at her.

"I was having a really nice dream."

"Yeah, what was it about?" she mused.

"Oh, it was amazing. Just me and the boys went on vacation, and I didn't have to bring my stupid best friend named Elwyn. It was pretty much paradise on earth."

Elwyn gasped, "You invited me, you cocksucker!"

"And I'll regret it every day for the rest of my life."

"If Jack didn't invite you, I'm sure Lule would have. He basically loves you," Cole laughed.

"That's not true. Luke doesn't love her, Q-" Trevor started, but was cut off by a slap to his chest from Cole.

Elwyn rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. Jack smirked at her in victory, before turning his attention to his phone. The rest of the drive was mostly silent. Jack on his phone, Trevor driving, Cole pointing out the occasional thing he saw, and Elwyn watching as they sped past the lake, the blue looking almost endless.

"Ellie!" Dylan shouted, throwing his arms around the girl. They rocked back and forth, bright smiles plastered on their faces.

"Why does Elwyn get a bigger hug than I did?" Luke questioned, "She doesn't own the house."

"I love Elwyn so much more than you," Dylan joked, narrowing his eyes at his past roommate.

El snatched her duffle bag out of Jack's hands, dissappearing into the house. Jack sighed, grabbing his bag and following her inside.

"You know I love you, Winnie?" he whispered.

"I know, Jack. I love you too," she giggled, flopping down onto the bed in the room that she had claimed, between Luke and Quinn's.

"I still don't get why you don't want to share a room with me. I'm like the best roommate ever."

"Jack."

"Yeah?"

"You snore and steal all the blankets. You're a terrible roommate."

Before Jack could protest, a snicker came from the doorway. Luke was standing there, his body leaned against the frame. Elwyn offered him a small wave, which he gladly returned.

"What's up?" Jack asked.

"Oh, um, Quinn needs help with something out back. Wanted me to ask you to help, Rowdy."

"Why can't El do it?" he groaned.

"Cause if El did it, Quinn would - never mind. Just go help him, dipshit."

"Fine. You coming, Winnie?" Jack sighed.

"I guess," she shrugged, letting him drag her into the backyard.

A few of the guys were playing spikeball, but Quinn was desperately trying to get the boat cover off. It seemed like it had been superglued on. He looked up when he heard two new voices enter the yard. His breath caught in his throat, and he stopped what he was doing when he saw Elwyn walking in step with Jack. He had specifically told Luke not to send her hout, why couldn't he follow simple instructions?!

"Hey, Quinn," Elwyn smiled, twisting one of the rings she had on.

"H-hey, Elwyn. How's it going?"

"Would be better if your brother wasn't so annoying?"

"Who? Luke?" Jack smiled, earning a punch in the arm.

Quinn chuckled nervously, turning his attention to his brother, "Can you hekpl me with this, Jack? I think Dad fucking superglued it on."

"Sure," Jack sighed, climbing up onto the boat with his brother.

Quinn tried his best to keep his attention on the boat, but that was proving difficult with Elwyn there. Quinn had had a crush on Elwyn for as long as he could remember. It was hard with her always being around because of Jack. And it was going to be even more difficult now that she was spending the next two weeks of summer with them.

"Quinn! Quintin! Hello?" Jack waved his hand in front of his brother's face.

"Huh?"

"You zoned out. Elwyn's going to help Luke with something inside."

"Oh, uh, okay."

"Are you okay, dude?"

"I'm fine, Jack. Just help me with the boat."

Jack raised his hands in defence as Quinn rolled his eyes.

Elwyn laughed as Luke splashed water from the sink at her. He had asked her to clean some of the dishes that the boys had used for lunch before she arrived with Cole, Trevor, and Jack.

"Stop!" she giggled, flicking some soap at him.

"Sorry, sorry. Didn't mean to get you all wet," he winked.

"LUKE!"

"Sorry, sounded funnier in my head," he rubbed the back of his neck, his face flushing.

"It was funny, Luke. No sweat."

Just as he was about to open his mouth and make things worse, Trevor walked in slapping him on the back.

"Mind if I steal, Lukey boy. We need another person to play pool."

"Sure. Leave the only woman to do the dishes," Elwyn shook her head.

"I- I can stay, Winnie. Mark or Ethan can play for me."

"It's fine, Rusty. I'm just kidding around."

Luke gave her a thumbs up, drying off his hands and disappearing with Trevor into the other room. Elwyn giggled at Luke's awkwardness, wondering where his sudden flirting had come from. She thought it was endearing almost. She was used to Jack's friends flirting with her, but his younger brother... that was new. It intrigued her, although Jack would shoot Luke on the spot if he overheard.

Elwyn sat cuddled up next to Jack in a deck chair, a blanket thrown over her legs that were propped on Jack's, one of his many Devils hoodies swallowing her frame. She choked on her beer as Trevor continued his story about striking out terribly at a club a few days before.

"What do you think, El? Who's got the best moves here?" Cole cackled.

"I- um, Quinn? Maybe? Like the quiet, mysterious type? Girls like that."

Quinn could feel his face heating up as the group of guys broke out in laughter.

"Quinn?! Are you kidding? Quinn's too busy thinking about-"

"Trevor! What were you saying about beer pong?" Cole cut him off.

"Oh, right! Me and Cole versus Elwyn and.... Luke!"

Don't be jealous. Don't be jealous, Quinn repeated in his head.

"Are you any good, Ellie?" Dylan asked.

"Oh, I mean, I'm okay... I guess."

"Don't be humble, Winnie! She's a pro! Whenever she comes to Jersey, we destroy everyone!" Jack claimed, smiling brightly.

"We'll see about that," Trevor smirked.

Elwyn sighed, getting up from her comfy spot next to Jack. Luke wrapped his arm around her shoulders, directing her towards the table the boys had set up not far from where the fire was. This way the group around the fire could still watch the game, while enjoying the warmth.

Trevor and Cole went first, both missing. Elwyn dipped the ball in a cup, before tossing it. Luke cheered as it landed in the cup, pulling her into a side-hug by her waist. Quinn gripped his drink a little tighter.

The game continued similarly, although Trevor and Cole sunk a few balls, leaving Elwyn feeling pretty tipsy. She sunk the last ball and Luke picked her up, spinning her around. She laughed, her anxiety from earlier being wiped away by the alcohol in her system. He placed her back down on the ground, staring into her eyes. She giggled, watching his eyes flicker to her lips. Jack, however, also noticed. He quickly walked over to the table, slapping Luke on the back, breaking him from his Elwyn induced stupor. Quinn was thanking whatever god was watching over him, because he felt like he was going to puke watching the moment between his youngest brother and the girl he was hopelessly in love with.

"Alright, I think it's time we head in," Jack said, a fake smile on his face.

"Why? We're having fun," Elwyn slurred, placing her hand on Luke's chest.

"Because... you've had too much to drink, Winnie."

"What? No, I have not. I'm fine, Jacky. You worry too much."

Jack could see Elwyn wasn't coming in without a fight, however he was starting to feel like if he left her out here any longer she'd be making out with Luke. He was not about to let that happen.

"Come on, El. If we go to bed now, we'll be able to wake up early and spend more time on the boat. And you can wear that swimsuit you were telling me about."

Her eyes lit up at the mention of the new bikini she had purchased for this trip. It was beyond cheeky and the cutest shade of red. Deep down she was hoping it would grab the attention of one of Luke's friends. Didn't matter which one, she just wanted to get laid. It had been a while and it was starting to get to her. She nodded in excitement, letting Jack intertwine their fingers and walk into the house.

As soon as she was gone, Luke's friends hopped out of their seats, hollering and playfully slapping the boy.

"Damn, Hughesy! Tryin' to make a move on Winnie in front of Jack! Ballsy as fuck!" Ethan laughed.

"I see you, Luke. Get the girl!"

"Okay, Rusty! I see you!"

Quinn had heard enough. Elwyn was not some object to win over. He stood up from his chair and stormed into the house. Passing Elwyn's room, he peered in to check on her, but she wasn't there. Confused, he peeked into Jack's room. On Jack's bed laid a very drunk Elwyn and a tipsy Jack. He was attempting to get her to change into some of his clothes, but she was already half asleep. Jack looked over at his door when he heard the floor creak, noticing his brother looking in, he got up and pushed the door shut in his face.

"Come on, El. You don't want to sleep in jean shorts. You'll wake up and complain. I know you."

El just whined and started pulling her shorts down her legs. While it wasn't the first time she'd undressed in front of her lifelong best friend, it still caught him off guard. He turned around and faced the wall, laughing when he felt the shorts hit him on the back.

"Happy?" she mumbled.

"Yes, now get under the covers. I'll join in a minute."

"Night, Jacky."

"Good night, Winnie."

Jack sighed, climbing in next to Elwyn. He knew she wouldn't remember anything when she woke up, but if Luke did he was ready to kick his ass. He could feel the anger bubbling in his chest, when suddenly a leg swung over his and a sigh came from next to him. He laughed, pulling Elwyn into his chest. He'd kill Luke later, right now he needed sleep.

Elwyn groaned, shoving her face further into Jack's neck. At least, she assumed it was Jack's neck. She didn't remember much of the night before after beer pong started. Slowly, she peeled open her eyes. Yep, it was Jack. Thank god. Jack muttered something, his grip on her waist tightening. There were no blankets on El, as she had predicted, Jack had stolen them all. Where were her shorts? Carefully, she moved Jack's arm off her, climbing out of the bed. She slid on her shorts and ran across the hall to her room.

God, she needed a shower.

Next thing Elwyn knew, she was out on the boat surrounded by boys. The boat was pretty full, so she found herself perched on Jack's lap, listening to the boys talk about hockey. She couldn't help but notice Luke's gaze that kept falling on her, she'd just flash him a tight-lipped smile every time their eyes met. The boat stopped and most of the boys jumped into the water, Elwyn however was going to use this time to tan. She slipped off her shorts and lay down on the bench of the boat, basking in the feeling of the sun on her skin.

Quinn, who was treading water next to Luke, was trying not to stare. It was proving difficult though, seeing the girl in her barely there bikni, reading a book. He felt like a hormonal teenager, especially when she started applying more sunscreen to her body. He could have sworn that his gulp was audible, as she trailed her hands over her chest and shoulders.

"Someone needs a cold shower," Ethan laughed, patting Luke on the back. Quinn's head whipped in the direction of his brother. Had Luke been staring too? Since when was Luke interested in Elwyn? Was his little brother his competition now?

"Winnie! Get in!" Jack complained from the water.

"No. I'm tanning."

"You've been tanning for an hour. Join us!"

She groaned, pulling her claw clip from her hair. She climbed up on the side of the boat, plugging her nose as she jumped.

"AH! IT'S SO COLD! Holy shit!" she shrieked as soon as she resurfaced. She swam over next to Quinn, placing a hand on his shoulder to stay afloat. Quinn thought his skin might have been on fire in that moment despite the cold water.

"Hey, Winnie," he whispered.

"Hi, Quinn," she smiled, "Your boat driving skills are quite impressive."

"Thanks. Was trying extra hard just for you."

She giggled, "Wow, I'm flattered."

"Yeah, precious cargo. Had to keep you safe." Where had this confidence come from? Maybe talking to Elwyn was easier than he thought.

"You're cute, Quinny," she smiled, swimming off towards Jack.

"Oh my god, she thinks I'm cute," he mumbled.

"Did you say something, Quinn?" Luke asked.

"Huh? No, no. Just thinking about tonight."

"Okay?"

Little did Quinn know that night was going to change everything.

Once again, everyone was gathered around the fire, cooking hotdogs over the flames. Elwyn was chattering away with Jack, explaining to him how to cook the hotdog correctly.

"No, it'll still be cold on the inside now. You have to give it more time. You're like a child, so fucking impatient."

"It won't be cold; I've been holding it over a fire."

"Are you kidding around? You're so dumb."

"Fine. I'll just burn it."

"Just because it's charred on the outside, doesn't mean it's burned. I actually cannot stand you. I'm going to sit with Quinn."

"Whatever. Have fun with that."

Quinn prayed that the darkness would shield Elwyn from seeing the blush that covered his face as she sat on the arm of his chair.

"Your brother was pissing me off."

"Not surprised. Not sure how you've put up with him for so many years."

"Me neither. You're clearly the better Hughes boy."

"Ha, yeah..."

A couple drinks later and Elwyn had moved from the arm of the chair to Quinn's lap. Jack hadn't noticed, too busy playing spikeball. Quinn's fingers drummed mindlessly against her exposed side, her head leaning on his shoulder.

"Quinn."

"Hm?"

"Have I ever told you that you're like the cutest guy ever?"

"What? No? Why?"

"Then I'll do it now. You're like the cutest guy ever."

"Where is this coming from, El?"

"My mind? My heart? I'm not sure. I thought you were cute when I was 16. But you were too cool for me."

"Too cool for you? No, you're too cool for me."

"Funny. I like your nose," she smiled, running her finger over the slope of it.

"Thanks. I like you."

"What?"

"I- I like your nose too."

"Thanks, Quinny."

"Do you want another drink?"

"Sure. I'll come with you."

The two walked off into the house unnoticed, going to find more alcohol. Elwyn perched herself on the counter as Quinn dug around in the fridge.

"Is Ultra okay?"

"Mmhm."

Quinn handed her the can and went to walk back outside, when her hand caught his collar. She pulled him closer, spreading her legs to slot him inbetween.

"Can I kiss you?" she whispered like someone would hear.

"I-" Quinn stopped himself, leaning in and capturing her lips with his. Her arms wrapped around his neck, trying to pull him impossibly closer. He swiped his tongue against her bottom lip, quickly being met with her open mouth. He slid his hand up her side, tucking it under the thin string of her bikini top.

"Upstairs," she mumbled against his lips. He nodded, allowing her to jump off the counter and drag him to his room. Their lips met again as she backed them towards the bed. He caught himself before he could crush her, trailing a hand up her thigh.

"Shirt."

"What?"

"Take your shirt off?" Elwyn offered. Quinn nodded enthusiastically, grabbing the back of his shirt and pulling it over his head. She wasted no time trailing her hands over his pecks, pulling him back in for a kiss. Quinn trailed his hand back under the string of her top, before she redirected it under the small bit of fabric covering her chest. Before Quinn could comment on how amazing she was, her name was called from downstairs.

"ELLIE? YOU IN HERE?" Jack's voice echoed from the bottom of the stairs.

"Ignore him. He'll go back outside," she whispered, kissing Quinn's neck.

"ELWYN? YOU OKAY?"

"Fuck. We should go, Winnie."

"But I'm having fun."

"I am too. But Jack will come up soon."

She sighed, sitting up. Quinn squeezed his hand under her shirt one more time, smirking as she narrowed her eyes at him.

"Don't start something you can't finish, Hughes."

He laughed as she sped off to go back to Jack. Maybe this summer would be better than he thought.

[love-and-books320]

I'm finally caught up on Severance so here are some thoughts that no one asked for, spoilers below

Irving, Burt, and Fields should have a threesome I said what I said

(this is actual spoilers so seriously stop reading if your not caught up) now that Helly's back I'm realizing how much different Helena was and how much I missed Helly, I love her so much. Omg i rlly rlly hope it's her this time so I don't look stupid for saying that

Dylan deserves reintegration more than anyone FREE MY BOY

Mark is confused now but he's going to be soooo much more confused when (if??? help im scared) he's reintegrated. thats gonna be so funny

again I love Helly but I have always been and will always be team Gemma. Why? idk im just too committed now and it just feels like the cleanest resolution

Ugh I need more (outtie) Helena scenes. I want to pick her brain I'm so curious. Obvi she's got a big old crush on Mark but like...i need more than that. I need to be her therapist

This one is kind of silly but literally wtf is this town? Kier???? Like it's really snowy and rural and they have like 2 restaurants, both of which are in the middle of nowhere. They have a small downtown with a punk scene?? There's mountains and waterfalls ig? Idk it's just so funky to me i need a map of the place

Ugh the color schemes and cinematography in this show are top tier i wanna write an essay on it

Miss Huang is kinda a diva and a love her but someone pls come get your child.

Do we think Helena knows that Helly fucked Mark at work? Bc I went through the different situations in my head and it depends on so many variables that we don't know and I'm just so curious if she does and what she thinks

Damn these innies are getting hella play. Don't let your oppressive job stop you from finding your soulmate ig

[neuroticbookworm]

Theory of Love Romcom Rewatch Episode 3: Friends With Benefits

It’s week 3 of Third torturing us with his terrible taste in romcoms, and this week’s offering was Friends With Benefits (2011). Not much of this movie stuck with me, so I am grateful that my brilliant friends have already summarized and connected it with this week’s episode. @lurkingshan once again pointed out how Third is further digging his self-pitying ass into a deeper hole by watching these terrible romcoms and learning all the wrong lessons from them. She also addressed how Khai is a good friend and that Third’s perception of how he is treated by Khai is biased since he’s nursing a one-sided crush on him. @solitaryandwandering did a detailed analysis of the movie, its crimes, its saving graces, and how Third tried to spark romance with Khai using forced proximity, following the movie’s philosophy that “the only way to get a man is to manipulate him.” @bengiyo pointed out the lack of friends in Dylan and Jamie’s lives, and how the lack of a get-a grip friend in Third’s life is just letting all his woe-is-me tendencies go unchecked.

Before I talk about the episode, I wanna point out that by having Dylan (played by Justin Timberlake) apologize to Jamie (played by Mila Kunis) for not realizing his love for her sooner, the movie essentially told us that reading brainwaves over the air is more important that communicating clearly and acting based on the agreed upon terms.

And I think that is exactly what Third learned from this movie. He thought that playing house with Khai would somehow magically change the terms of their relationship (which is friendship), and make Khai fall in love with him. I am not saying that living together did not change their relationship at all, but the change happened in a more logical and predictable direction rather than the delusional direction Third wanted it to go. Even though Khai was initially reluctant to let Third into his personal space by offering him the place to live, we see that Khai grows to feel genuinely happy about Third living with him, because it means he gets to spend more time with his best friend. He enjoys having his bestie around, I mean look at this man’s face:

Third set himself up for disappointment when he and Two hatched this stupid cohabitation plan, and he utilized every opportunity that came his way to play the tragic, lovelorn romance hero in the film he was making in his head about himself. Peeking into Khai’s bedroom was an unnecessary and grossly violating act, and it is very telling that Third’s thoughts after doing it was a montage of all the times Khai hurt him by not seeing his massive yet invisible love, instead of being horrified about what he had done. I am side-eyeing and shaking my head at him because he has no one in-universe to do that, and look what it has done to him *gestures to Third’s entire existence*

I love that the others who are engaging with this rewatch project are sharing their experiences with one-sided crushes and how this project is helping them process and reevaluate Third’s actions and their own feelings on them. I did not relate to either Third or Khai when I first watched the show, so the emotions the show and its characters evoked in me were more in the lane of narrative brian-wiggling than emotional catharsis. I watched Theory of Love when I was still pretty new to BLs, and I remember feeling drawn to the show because episodes 1 and 2 did not shy away from leaning into the angst and misery of Third’s situation. Watching Third deal with his secret crush on his best friend who hooks up with a girl a week was painful to watch, and I was impressed that the show was not afraid to let its audience sit in that uncomfortable feeling. Episode 3 is where I realized that the show was very intentionally guiding me into empathizing with Third, even though I found his choices questionable. The show’s insistence that I must feel bad for Third fascinated me enough that I decided I need to see for myself what this show wanted to say about these characters, their actions, and the friends-to-lovers trope. And I am so glad I did because it was so satisfying to watch this show work its themes out with conviction. I am looking forward to experiencing it again, and next up on the romcom list is Crazy, Stupid, Love (2011). As a fan of Emma Stone’s clumsy, yet effortlessly sexy dork vibe, I am cautiously excited for this one.

[midnightcandygoblin]

When will leave Jackson diary incorrect quotes part 2?

IT MAKES ME WHEEZE WHEN I READ PART 1

If you check the reblogs to the original post, I made a part 2

This is part 3

NJ (Nightmare Jackson), writing fanfiction: #murder as a love language, #hurt no comfort, #MCR voice: I'M NOT OKAAAYYYY, #author does NOT need sleep, #physically running away from feelings because what even are those

-

Exer: If you need me to babysit Charlie, I'm available 24/6

Bailey: Don't you mean 24/7?

Exer: No, Saturdays are date nights with David

-

David, half asleep: Peer pressure me into completing tasks

Brenda: Do it or you're straight.

David, immediately getting up: I SAID PEER PRESSURE NOT THREATEN

-

Charlie: Can I have some?

Exer, eating Cup O Cat cheesecake: It's really spicy, you wouldn't like it

-

Jolie: What is love?

Ken: An emotional minefield

Jackson: A neurochemical reaction

Timothy: baby don't hurt me, don't hurt me no more-

-

K3vin, talking to the REDs, Brenda, Pamela, and the Detention Kids: you and your dreadful little polycule haven't seen the last of me

-

Jackson: I wanna sleep for 40 hours

NJ: You know that's called a coma, right?

Jackson: That sounds so refreshing, I could totally go for a light coma right now

-

Ken: I thought I was doing amazing socially at a party and then this girl asked me if I was autistic

-

Dylan: Sh*t, I don't have enough money to pay rent . . .

Marco, biting his lip, looking Dylan up and down: Well . . . I'm sure we can find a . . . solution

Bailey: THIS. IS. MONOPOLY. HORNY JAIL. RIGHT NOW

-

Ken: You're my hero!

Brenda: All I did was catch your plate of chicken nuggets before they hit the ground

Ken: But you did it heroically

-

Jolie: Didn't you die?

K3vin: That was weeks ago. Things change.

-

Ken: Did it hurt?

Stars: *chokes on spit* excuse me? Do not pull that "when you fell from heaven" shit on me-

Ken: When you crawled up from hell?

-

David: I swear on my friends' lives that I don't have a crush on Exer

Brenda, hands on her neck: I can't BREATHE

Ronald: I . . . I see the light

Jackson, literally a theater kid: *choking sounds before he collapses on the floor*

-

Jackson: I just had a thought, which, as you can imagine, was stressful

-

Ken: Yeah, crushes are the worst, I always act stupid when I'm near mine

Brenda: But you always act stupid

Ken, sweating: . . .

Brenda: . . . wait-

-

Jolie: *very pensive*

Timothy: What's up?

Jolie: I just saw Ken pour 4 pounds of sugar into a dryer and he said he was making cotton candy

Timothy: . . . Did it work?

Jolie: . . . NO??

-

NJ: I like men in the sense that I can perform unethical experiments on them

-

NJ: everyone is addicted to my Fun and Flirty personality. lives have been destroyed

-

Ken: so I was talking to Brenda-

Tim: the rizzlerrrr

Ken: . . .

-

NJ: *humming along to Monster High songs*

Jackson: *walks into the room* what are you listening to?

NJ: Fallout Boy

-

Now if they could text:

Harry: Happy birthday, son . . . Exer: ?? is it my last? - Christine: Good morning pumpkin remember to drink water . . .

David: did you poison it? - Christine: Hey just picked up David and Exer from school they got into a fight Harry: 👍 Christine: What -

Norman, texting Mariah: Get bell soon. wet* wep* Oh forget it. You can just perish. - David, in a group chat with the REDs, Brenda, Pamela, and the Detention Kids: I want a bf Brenda: Do you mean boyfriend or best friend? Exer: I can be both Ken: damn that's crazy Timothy: @/inhiseyesaflamingglow ron come get the tea but be careful it's BURNING HOT 🔥 David: [dumb blond is replying to magic boi] {I can be both} ??? WAHT??!?? - Ken: hey Haru, two days later: what. Ken: can you get toilet paper like two days ago? mom wanted me to ask - Ken: I need to tell you smth important Elijah: yeah go on Ken: here I'll just send it. https://social.mtdv.me/articles/UGjq058oAB Elijah: . . . why.

[chaoticbooklesbian]

I'm so fucking gone on my crush, holy shit, my brain is trying to catastrophize over our meetup in the autumn, but it keeps short circuiting trying to imagine them being even slightly unkind. Mischievous, sure, impish, definitely, but unkind? Absolutely not.

Fucking wild.

[egot1stical]

rambling about the state of the innies rn

i’m p sure they’re gonna have a scene explaining a very shallow version of why helena was on the severed floor and. i have a feeling they’re gonna like… blame it on helly?

i’m imagining they’ll guilt helly for helena being there because of her suicide attempt and then subsequently blame her for irving’s death* (*firing, but i’m calling it death because that’s what it is.)

we know from the trailers that helly sees irving’s art of the severed floor and there seems to be a written note on the back of it. possibly last words or a guide so the team can continue where irving left off?

it’s just gonna be so bad. like for everyone. i’m assuming it’s gonna go like

helly: forced to take accountability for the actions of helena. suicide attempt and self destructive behaviour is pegged as the cause of helena just having to be there. i assume she’ll actually learn about miss casey next ep. maybe she’ll feel conflicted about the kiss? probably really not happy about helena and mark. (against helena the most. obviously) maybe upset that mark couldn’t tell the difference between her and helena and wonders what that means for her

dylan: feels suuuuuper guilty for not being on irv’s side more and being sidelined by his visitation. probably feels upset at mark for the same reason— he dismissed irving and was especially mean to him this ep when he was right cuz he was blinded by his stupid crush. if anyone wonders if helly coming back is a lie and it’s still helena, it’ll be dylan. possibly still distrustful leans more on visitation suite for comfort and support

mark:

okay one,

okay so one, grappling with the fact that he thought he was getting close and moving forward with helly but it was actually helena! the comfort, the help, the small talk, the sex was all under false pretences and he doesn’t really know why helena would do any of that, he doesn’t really have context. helena just replaced the person he was closest to here wordlessly for some reason. AND SHE’S ALSO AN EAGAN!

two, he’s learning that he doesn’t actually care about his outie as much as he assumed he did…? he kind of just did the miss casey stuff out of reflex. it’s out of a “well, we’re the same guy, so…” but he has no connection to her, and also if his outie finds his wife he might not… come… back. which is the end for mark s (in normal circumstances)

three, grappling with the fact they took irving out back and shot him and it’s more than partially his fault! ties into helena using him! probably feels good as fuck for the innie!

and four, REINTEGRATION HAS STARTED BAYBEEE AND HE HAS NOOOOO IDEA! the next time we see him will be a day passing, minimum, could even be a few days. that’s enough time for that shit to progress and we’ve already had a small glitch what seems to be the day after the procedure was done. all of this shit — learning he really likes helly, doesn’t really care about gemma, helena using him, the loss of irving — has lined up with this guy about to kind of… lose his own independence? it’s not that he’s gonna die, in fact petey seemed to line up a little more with his innie self anyway, but it’s gonna be an attempted fusion of two people that have only just now realised that they’re separate. and innie mark wants to be more separate

there’s so much building up and boy is it gonna be ugly and boy can I not wait

[gingersnaptaff]

Doing a stupid poll again to distract me from interview horrors so pls tell me ur fave mabinogion story!

Branch 1 - Pwyll

The worst identity crisis since Freaky Friday, Pwyll almost fumbling The Hottest Maiden in all of Dyfed's Cantrefi, Rhiannon, who later gets NCIS'd medieval Wales style when she's accused of eating her son. Teyrnon becomes dad to a fool AND Gwri Gwallt Euryn only for him to discover Gwri is actually the missing son of Pwyll and Rhiannon. He reunites mam, dad, and son and Gwri changes his name by deed poll to Pryderi (Pryder is 'to worry' which honestly never has there been a more apt description of a mythological character ever.). Pwyll dies. Pryderi takes over and gets a wife, Cigfa!

Branch 2 - Branwen

Irish king, Matholwch, tries his luck at 12th century Love Island by going to Harlech and asking for High King Bendigeidfran’s sister, Branwen. Bendigeidfran accepts but his half-brother Efnisien gets pissed off he wasn't consulted and immediately slices up Matholwch's horses. Pissed, Matholwch tries to leave - no word on whether he took Branwen with him considering they're married at this point - but Bendigeidfran and his brother, Manawydan, convince him they didn't know Efnisien would do such a grievous act by giving him the Pair Dadeni: a cauldron perfect for all ur resurrection needs. Matholwch accepts, goes back to Ireland with Branwen in tow where he then becomes abusive to her even though they have a son, Gwern. She gets sent to the kitchens and gets a box on the ear and no ships can go to Britain lest news spread. Branwen teaches a starling to send a message to her bros who react accordingly (war, if ur asking). Bendigeidfran unlocks his bridge powers, Efnisien crushe soldiers heads in after being told their flour and then chucks Gwern onto the fire!!! But it's okay, he breaks the Pair Dadeni by pretending to be dead and getting chucked in so his heart bursts. Bendigeidfran’s mortally wounded, has his head chopped, Branwen dies of a broken heart, and Manawydan is left without any family members which leads to...

Branch 3

Dan and his bestie Pryderi go home to Dyfed where Pryderi plays matchmaker and has Dsn marry Rhiannon. Everything's fine and dandy until it ain't. Dyfed becomes a wasteland and Rhiannon, Pryderi, Dan, and Cugfa are the only for Welsh people left. They go to England making saddles, leaving a village when the craftsmen try to kill them, try to set up shop making shoes in another village, only to be threatened with death again and rinse and repeat. Then they go back to Dyfed, hunt a wild boar, Pryderi goes into a fort and forgets every scrap of common sense he possesses and touches a magic bowl, Manawydan tells Rhiannon who bollocks him and goes in search of her son only for her to also touch the magic bowl and be spirited away. Dan and Cigfa live their farming life only for mice to severely hamper them. Dan captures a mouse and tries to hang it, resulting in Cigfa thinking he's having a mid-life crisis. Dan then gets a visit from a Bishop asking for the mouse and the two manage to come to an agreement that Dan will give him the mouse once Pryderi, Rhiannon, and Dyfed are restored.

Branch 4 - Math

Math is a bit part in his own tale, you should probs call it 'Gwydion Being a Shithammer.' Gwydion is Math' nephew who is basically The Worst (not affectionate) and sparks a war between Gwynedd and Dyfed leading to Pryderi's death (rip king) and his brother, Gilfaethwy, assaulting their uncle's footholder, Goewin. Goewin tells Math what's happened and he shapeshifts his nephews into various animals for three years and then releases them. Gwydion suggests his sis, Aranrhod, be their uncle's new footholder only for Aranrhod to give birth and discard her kids. (Dylan Ail Don, who Math adopts, and Lleu Llaw Gyffes who Gwydion keeps.) After tynged shenanigans, Lleu gets a wife made out of flowers, Blodeuedd, and is then murdered by her and her lover, Gronw Pebr. Gwydion nurses Lleu back to health and humanity (cuz he became an eagle) and the two get their revenge by spearing Gronw and transforming Blodeuedd into Blodeuwedd (owl.) Jokes on Lleu though, he doesn't have an heir and Gwynedd is probs in pieces.

Peredur

Boi wants to become knight, boi travels to King Arthur's court and deals with bad knight who threw wine at Gwenhwyfar. Reads like what I write high on painkillers and coffee. Also, deals with colonialism. Gwalchmai and Peredur hold hands and probably fucked in a tent. Peredur Baladr Hir, indeed.

Geraint ac Enid

Geraint is nastiness personified. Enid saves his life and is basically treated like dog shit by him. Save her.

Culhwch ac Olwen

Pig Quest Fever Dream. Fairy tale wrapped up in heist movie aesthetics. Culhwch is pig boi now to me. Also, his father-in-law is a giant and his cousin is King Arthur. Shame he doesn't even participate on his own fuckin quest. Dumb ass.

Lludd and Llefelys

Twinsies who have to deal with the worst house guests ever (dragons, coraniaid, wizard who keeps nicking all the food.)

The Dream of Rhonabwy

Rhonabwy is to Welsh mythology what Dante's Inferno is to Italian poetry: self-insert fanfic. Owain and Arthur play Gwyddbwyll and neither give a shit when Owain's ravens attack Arthur's men.

Macsen Wledig

Tinder but through dreams. And in Caernarfon. And with a roman emperor involved. It works.

Taliesin

Gwion bach gets reborn into Taliesin after Cerridwen eats him as a piece of grain.

Owain/Lady of the Fountain

Owain travels to a countess' domain after his brother-in-law narrates the most wackiest story you've ever heard, and then accidentally kills said countess' husband. The Lady's handmaiden, Luned, becomes besties with Owain and convinces her mistress to marry him. Owain then stays with his wife for about threeish years until King Arthur comes a-calling (it's actually Gwalchmai who comes a-calling but Arthur made him) Owain and the Lady divorce (it's actually Luned helping divorce proceedings by which I mean she gives Owain the Lady's ring back) and Owain gets depressed before an earl nurses him back to health. Luned gets herself into a spot of bother (read: almost executed) until Owain saves her alongside his new lion bestie and the countess remarries him.

[birdyboyfly]

Ted Lasso Severance AU Ideas

Ted Lasso

Closest character correlation with Mark, with some elements of Helly’s mental health decline

Department Head of Macrodata Refinement

His soon-to-be ex-wife Michelle died in a car accident about two years ago, he was offered a job at the London branch of Lumon a few weeks after the accident and he accepted it and moved himself and Henry out to Richmond

Decided to accept the job and get severed because he didn’t want to feel the anxiety and grief caused by Michelle’s passing, and because Beard and Jane could help him take care of Henry

Was a high school football coach that also taught history before he worked for Lumon, Michelle was an AP Lit teacher at the same high school, Ted still regularly gets messages and mail from former students of his and Michelle’s after moving to Richmond

Beard is Ted’s closest friend (they met in college) who moved to England with his girlfriend and now-wife Jane about a year before the accident

Both his innie and his outie struggle with anxiety

His innie suffers from much more severe generalized anxiety as well as suicidal ideation

His outie’s anxiety is much more focused around Henry and his role as a father

Roy Kent

Longest working member of MDR

Used to be a professional footballer but suffered a career-ending injury to his knee about five years ago, started working at Lumon after his girlfriend at the time, Keeley Jones, recommended it to him

Him and Keeley broke up after Keeley decided that she also wanted to get Severed because Roy was throwing a fit because he didn’t like the idea of not knowing if they saw each other at work or not

Gruff and grumpy, hates Jamie with a burning passion

At first just wants to keep his head down and work on the files, but once he’s swayed he’s an unstoppable revolutionary force (closest to Irving but without quite as much Kier-worshipping)

His innie hates Jamie but is also vaguely aware that his feelings for him may border on romantic and/or sexual, also has a crush on Keeley J. from Optics and Design

Jamie Tartt

Youngest member of MDR

Grew up in a poorer community that Lumon funneled a bunch of money into and essentially raised the kids with the intent to make them Severed Lumon workers

Cocky and a little stupid, brags about all of the perks and benefits that he’s won from completing files (kind of like Dylan)

Completely ok with breaking all of Lumon’s rules and regularly pushes the boundaries of every supervisor figure he has had

Has a crush on Keeley from Optics and Design and regularly bitches with Roy about who gets to flirt with her because they both have a crush on her

Constantly jokes about having sex with Roy to which Roy just responds with death threats

Nathan Shelley

Newest member of MDR

The son of the CEO of Lumon, Lloyd Shelley

His outie is cruel and confident, and doesn’t view innies as “people”, also resents his own innie because he feels that it is a manifestation of the “weak” parts of himself

His innie (Nate E.) is extremely timid and has low self-esteem and latches onto Ted pretty soon after arriving

Nathan is the outie, Nate is the innie, essentially Nate is Nate in season 1 and after his redemption arc in season 3, whereas Nathan is Nate during the bulk of season 3

Rebecca Welton

Manager of the Severed Floor at Lumon

Rupert is close with the CEO of Lumon, Lloyd Shelley, and after the divorce she wormed her way into the company and is attempting to burn it down from the inside

Trent Crimm

Principles and Practices Editor, works in the Optics and Design department

Writes most non-scriptural materials for the Severed floor, as well as edits materials sent in from the non-severed floor to make them acceptable for Severed employees

Took a job on the Severed floor at Lumon after he came out to his wife and got a divorce so he could focus entirely on being a father to his daughter, Primrose (Rosie)

His innie has a giant crush on Ted, and his outie also has taken a liking to Ted because he knows him through Beard because his outie helped Beard edit his book

Anyhow that's some of the basic character stuff I have down right now, I'll probably make another post later with some notes on Keeley, Jade, and Beard's roles as well as some general plot notes

[barryhbo2018]

'i don't care about burt and irving' okay irving and dylan then, or just any dynamic romantic or otherwise between two outies. and maybe you don't care about irving/burt but i don't see you talking about how it's meaningless bad writing lmao. i don't think 'chemistry' is even relevant at a certain point, if you only know like one person you find even remotely attractive and feel any kind of connection to obviously you're gonna end up with a crush on them.

yeah like how you apparently only know me and think im so hot and sexy youre just sending me these stupid fucking inane anons every fucking day because you want to suck me off so badly. sorry ladies im already taken