#it’s very clearly a labour of love from the whole team

[buildoblivionthenwewilltalk]

see, the thing about GO s2 is that I genuinely believe it needed another go over in the script editing/ final cut stages because watching it as a whole makes the story feel so bloated and meandering - the tone is massively off from the very tightly written first season, lacking focus and not quite capturing the same wit or wisdom that the OG series and the book achieved

but then I see a little moment on a beloved mutual’s gif set and my whole heart goes 🥺😭💕🥰

[sequinsmile-x]

hand holding #1 and kisses 48 please for your celebration!!! i love you soooo much! ❤️❤️ congratulations on 500!! 🥰 MUAH!

I LOVE YOU TOO!!! <3

I really hope you like this!!

-x-

Words: 1.5k

Warnings: Pregnancy and labour

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

She’d never felt pain like it. 

She was sure her body had been pushed to its limit before. Her recovery from what Ian had done to her was brutal. She’d learnt to walk again, her core strength reduced to nothing. Months and months of physical therapy. Exhaustion ran down to her very core, and most of her early days in Paris were spent sleeping, wishing she was anywhere other than where she was. 

Those days, she was now realising, were a walk in the park in comparison to this. 

The baby was coming early. Five whole weeks earlier than she should be, and the fear that gripped her chest, making her breathless, almost matched the contractions that were rolling through her body. Relentless in their nature, making her cry out in a way she didn’t know she could. 

She grimaces as the midwife examines her and she squeezes the hand that had been wrapped in hers for hours now.

“Ok, Emily,” the midwife says, smiling kindly at her as she stands up straight, “You’re fully dilated so it’s time for you to start pushing.” 

She whimpers, something she would later deny, and she shakes her head, “No, I can’t be. Aaron isn’t here yet,” she looks at Penelope, her eyes meeting her friends that were full of sympathy, “I need Aaron.” 

The baby was coming early. And whilst Emily was grounded now, Aaron was still travelling with the team to go away on cases. He was in Ohio, hours away from her and their daughter who was apparently a little too keen to be born. Penelope hadn’t left her side, and had refused to go anywhere after Emily went into labour in her office. 

“I spoke to him about 30 minutes ago, Em,” Penelope says, squeezing her hand, “He’s trying his best to get here as quickly as he can.” 

“See,” Emily says slightly desperately, turning to look at the midwife, “We can wait, he’s on his way.” 

The midwife places her hand on Emily’s leg and her smile somehow gets kinder. Emily groans as another contraction rolls through her, her eyes screwing shut as she waits for it to pass, even though she knows the next one will be chasing right after it.

“Emily,” the midwife says, “You need to do what is safest for you and your baby,” she says gently, “And right now that is getting your baby delivered, her dad can meet her as soon as he gets here, and he’ll have a whole lifetime to spend with her. Ok?”

Emily cries, and she hates it. Hates that she’s as afraid as she is, that her husband, the one person who could truly calm her down, isn’t here. She places her hand on her bump, her skin drum tight over her daughter, and she blows out a steady breath before she nods. 

“Ok,” she says, “Let's do this.” 

__

He’s sure he’s never driven so quickly in his life. 

He’s grateful for Penelope, for the frequent updates, and idly thinks to himself that he owes her a raise after this. Or a vacation for as long as she wanted. 

It had been a long time since he’d felt panic like he had when Emily had called him only a few hours earlier. Her voice strained as she explained to him that she was in labour, that her waters had broken on Penelope’s office floor and she was going to the hospital. Emily was clearly trying to keep calm for him, to soothe the fears she’d no doubt know he’d immediately have. 

He curses himself for leaving her, and clenches his teeth as he remembers kissing her on the forehead before he left the bullpen just two days ago. A promise against her skin that after this case he’d stay behind, that he’d be by her side until their daughter came.

And now he might miss it all.

He barely waits for the car to be turned off when he jumps out of it, flashing his badge at the security guard who yells at him that he can’t park there. He doesn’t care if his car gets towed, or even if he never sees the damn thing again, he just wants to get to his wife.

He isn’t even close to polite as he demands to be shown to her room, the nurse at the front desk staring at him with slightly wide eyes as she points him in the right direction. He comes to a grinding halt as he spots Penelope in the hallway, fear briefly gripping his body as he walks towards her.

“Garcia…”

“Bossman!” She exclaims, a smile on her face as she pulls him into a hug, her eyes shining with unshed tears, “You made it!” 

“Is everything ok?” He asks, pulling back, his heart hammering in her chest, “Is…”

“Everything is perfect,” Penelope replies,” squeezing his arm, “She asked to be alone for a little while, but I have a feeling that doesn’t include you.” 

It’s confirmation that both delights him and scares him. He’d missed it, but they were both ok. A mixture of joy and sorrow that he hadn’t anticipated mixing in his stomach. 

He nods, and walks towards the door she directs him to, pausing as his hand is on the door handle when Penelope says his name.

“Hotch,” she says, clearing her throat as she corrects herself, “Aaron, congratulations.” 

He smiles at her and takes a deep breath before he walks into Emily’s room. As soon as he spots her it’s like nothing else exists, and he finds himself frozen to the spot as the door closes behind him. 

She’s never looked more beautiful. She’s tired, he can see that from across the room, and her hair is tied up in a braid so intricate he’s sure Penelope must have done it for her. Her smile is as wide as he’s ever seen it, and she's looking down at a tiny bundle in her arms, the smallest hand he’s ever seen wrapped around one of her fingers. 

“Look, sweet girl,” she whispers. She doesn’t look up at him, but her smile gets impossibly wider, “Daddy’s here. I told you he’d be here soon.” 

It’s all he needs to make it across the room, his breath catching in his chest as he looks down at his daughter. 

“She’s beautiful,” he chokes out, reaching out to touch her, his fingers trailing over her soft hair, “She’s so small.” 

“5lbs 7oz,” Emily says looking up at him, her eyes shining with pride she rarely allowed herself to feel. She smiles at him, “Hi.” 

“Hi sweetheart,” he says, settling on the edge of her bed, his guilt for not being here almost overwhelming him as the adrenaline of getting her stars to wear off, “I am so so sorry I wasn’t here. I never should have gone, and I got here as quickly as I could. I even used the blue lights-”

She leans in to kiss him, her lips soft against his as she stops any further apologies. She didn’t need them, nor did she want to hear them. He was here now and that was what mattered. 

“It’s ok, honey,” she says as she kisses him once more before she pulls back. They both know they’ll talk about it more, that she can’t undo his guilt with three words any more than he can undo that she went through labour without him with apologies, but for now, they were both content to bask in the joy of their new baby, “Do you want to hold her?” 

He doesn’t need asking twice and gently takes the newborn from her, marvelling as she feels like she weighs almost nothing in his arms. Emily settles her head against his shoulder, her eyes fixed on their daughter's face. 

“She’s ok?” He asks, staring down at his little girl, “There weren’t any complications because she’s so early?”

Emily shakes her head against him, “She’s ok. They’ll keep her here for a little while though, just to be sure.” 

“I’ll stay with her,” he promises, and it makes her smile, her lips pressing into his suit jacket, “That way you can get some rest if you get sent home before her.” 

She knows there is no way she is leaving her baby, but she lets it slide for now, “I think we’re definitely going to have to use Penelope as a middle name.” 

He chuckles and turns his head to kiss the top of hers, “Definitely. But we’ll have to come up with something short for her first name, otherwise, she’ll hate us forever.” 

She hums in response, and they lapse into a brief silence, the only noise in the room the soft sounds of their daughter breathing.

“Aaron?”

“Yes, sweetheart?” He asks, still staring at his little girl's perfect face. 

“Next time we do this, you’re grounded the second I am, ok?” 

-x-

Tag list:

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[deafmangoes]

An Album of Christmas Carols - 3

Okay let's address the elephant in (on?) the platform:

"Scrooge" (2022, Luke Evans)

I didn't like it.

I will explain in some detail why I didn't like it, but for fairness' sake I'll also talk about the things I did like.

The main reason I didn't like it is because this isn't Ebenezer Scrooge. It's a fundamentally very different character, and for one simple reason.

Scrooge wouldn't keep a pet dog.

Quite aside from anything else, he would see it as a pointless and frivolous expense, but the main reason he wouldn't keep a pet dog is because Scrooge has utterly buried his empathy when we first meet him. He doesn't care about anything or anyone, barely even himself - there's no way he'd open his heart even a tiny crack for the sake of a dog.

The film tries to pass her off as having previously belonged to Marley but oddly fails to properly establish that in the flashback scenes where Marley's alive (although we do see a different dog).

And speaking of Marley...

Ghosts? Ghosts!

Credit to this film, Marley's design is amazing. It's a departure from the traditional but in ways that really work, and I especially loved the coins over the eyes (which makes me think someone on the team had fond memories of Robert Zemeckis' 2009 A Christmas Carol, staring Jim Carrey...), as I thought it made perfect symbolism for being blinded by avarice.

Luke Evans is too busy singing to notice Marley appear in the door knocker and this version dispenses with all the other signs except the bells (which happen mid-appearance) - Marley even excuses this as "those in charge demand a touch of pageantry".

The change to Marley's age, relative to Scrooge, was another interesting departure. They went for a "mentor/mentee" vibe, rather than the "equal partners" they're usually shown to be. It feeds into a much larger attempt to humanise Scrooge from the beginning, which I'll get into, but I do think was a mistake and chips away at the narrative integrity.

(Pictured, my expression through a lot of this film).

Christmas Past is Olivia Coleman playing an exaggerated version of herself. Her design, made of malleable wax, allows a lot of creative freedom on the part of the animators, and avoids the usual issues with the whole 'ineffable being of light' thing.

Scrooge's childhood in this film is a complete change from normal. Taking, I think, from Dickens' own experiences, Scrooge here was a child labourer (+1 sympathy points), his father went to a debtor's prison (+1 Freudian excuse), and for once his mother didn't die in childbirth! These points also come up in the 2004 A Christmas Carol musical staring Kelsey Grammar - the writers and animators of Netflix's adaptation have clearly shopped around for ideas.

A change I didn't understand was the names - Nephew Fred becomes Harry. Sister Fan becomes Jen. Curious choice. Scrooge's love interest remains Isabel this time.

We skip Scrooge's time with Fezziwig, meeting the man later in life and having Scrooge begin his romance with Isabel only after he'd started working with Marley (which... again confuses matters, he was already on the up when the engagement began instead of being a poor apprentice).

And this is when the movie threw me for a loop. It just straight up uses the songs from Albert Finney's 1970 musical.

Not even the good ones. Although it did make "Happiness" shorter and more bearable than 1970's snoozefest.

We see young Scrooge and Marley close down a bakery and are informed that it belonged to Bob's father, which I actually liked. At least within this film's logic and treatment of Scrooge, it made it feel like he took on Bob as an employee out of buried guilt.

Christmas Present was... weird. A big nod to 1970's take on the character for sure, even reprising "I Like Life" (with Gospel, for some reason), but boy howdy did I hate the Minions Cheerlings, or whatever they're called. Those pink-purple fairy bastards.

Fred Harry's party is shown, and again a credit to the adaptation - they showcase a lot of diversity that genuinely did exist in Victorian London, in this case Harry is in an interracial marriage (which does imply Scrooge might also be a bit racist). The Cratchit's Christmas runs beat-for-beat as it usually does, including a (again, mercifully shorter) version of "On A Christmas Morning" from 1970's version. Scrooge is given reinforcing visions that Bob's poverty is both directly and indirectly his fault - poor wages in the present and eviction in the past.

Christmas Present makes a, as far as I know, unique transformation into Christmas Yet To Come - sadly accompanied by the bloody Cheerlings who now become 'Fearlings'.

We're treated to a (shorter, again) version of "Thank You Very Much" delivered by Tom Jenkins the Toymaker rather than Tom Jenkins the Soup Vendor before heading straight to the graveyard.

To his credit, and the film's, Scrooge's overall more human characterisation comes out in force here - he admits his own guilt and even confronts that he might be past saving, but begs to at least exchange his life for Tim's and correct the injustice he's done to the Cratchit family as a whole. That was a good change.

Despite leaning on 1970's version for many things, Scrooge does not go to Hell. Shame.

Highlights & Humbugs

Like I said at the outset, I didn't enjoy this version. It doesn't quite know what it wants to be - a creative reimagining of the story, particularly Scrooge's character, or a nod to a famous musical adaptation of the past. The songs are schizophrenic, partly because some come from the 70s and some from the new 20s. The opening number is saccharine and lifeless, and misses out on contrasting the general happiness with something like 1970's "I Hate People". We do get "Tell Me", but it doesn't have the same impact.

Prudence the dog doesn't add to the story and messes up Scrooge's characterisation. Marley's good, though the age difference makes him less of a reflection of Scrooge's life choices and more an example not to follow. The added humanising of Scrooge works in some ways but detracts in others - rather than a "cruel, wrenching, covetous old sinner", as Dickens puts it, we get the impression of a guilt-ridden middle-aged man who doesn't know how to redeem himself but secretly wants to.

And, uh, Cheerlings. See picture above for my thoughts on that.

Overall... 3 out of 10 Humbugs. It's just not good. Sorry Tumblr fans of "DILF Scrooge".

[galactic-pirates]

Ok Episode Two time of the Timeless movie.

Just realised I probably should have said I’m not a Wyatt fan, and I like Flynn and Lucy upfront. Oh well.

I don’t think I’m ever not going to be stuck on all the paradoxes. Episode One is just… no sense, logic is not found. I get that time travel is like that but I think it made sense in season one.

Right rambles!

Ok so they were in a helicopter crash. We didn’t get to see any of that. They basically have very few wounds. We get told that Wyatt is a hero who saved them, because of course (rolling my eyes).

Rufus is shipping team Lyatt? I am cringing so hard at the almost fourth wall break. And likening Lucy and Wyatt to all those famous couples? Blech.

And choosing Lucy over Jessica? Not a second choice? But he didn’t. I mean that is literally not what happened. Jessica came back and Wyatt immediately chose her.

Whomever the writer is for this, was shipping Lucy and Wyatt so hard and determined to make it work. I guess we should be kinda flattered that they had to write Flynn out so quickly or it would never have happened? I guess I sort of did that in my fic. But I at least gave Wyatt a happy ending with Jessica. Writing Flynn out as just getting to see his dead family one last time… I mean couldn’t they have had him do something more practical to save them? It’s like he just gave up and I hate that. Like why would he do that?

Anyway again Wyatt making it all about him. My fault. You said you’d never forgive me. /sigh.

Rufus seems a bit more… like the whole “I can’t wait to sleep with future you” and “have a thing for older women” - he was always pop culture joking but this feels like something else.

I sort of like that they are saving this random Korean lady but at the same time… it just feels, not very tight on the plot.

St Christopher - patron saint of travellers ha! I just got that. Very clever with Agent Christopher.

Emma stealing the Mona Lisa was funny and I did like Cahill’s reference to “it’s a family thing” which does callback to what Emma said about bloodlines etc. So that was a plus mark in the plot column.

Labour takes ages and women often walk about so why not just keep walking?

This just feels like such a diversion.

And Lucy is screaming for Wyatt like the damsel she never was /sigh. And Wyatt’s being the big damn hero with a soft side delivering the baby in the warzone. Could they be anymore obvious? It’s like ramming it down my throat

What’s with the frostbite talk and none of them wearing hats? Apart from Rufus. Clearly the only smart one.

I did like earlier that Jia expressed some hesitation about the 3 years they lived apart and the different memories. But they really did not have time to unpack that. And so it felt like they didn’t deal with it all. Just kiss and call it good. I wish Jia had told Rufus her concerns and they agreed to work it out. That would have felt more real.

Nice that Lucy mentioned Flynn.

Blech. Lucy’s “my life was over when I thought you were dead”. This just feels so forced. Like Wyatt hasn’t had a personality transplant. I can see their extreme circumstance leading to attraction but he is just not the guy to fall in love with. A fling, not a relationship.

Ok Jia pointing out the Agent Christopher patron saint of travellers was a bit on the nose. I knew the mothership was coming and I did smile at Agent Christopher’s “I wanted to time travel at least once”.

I also do like not forgetting about Amy. It was right for Lucy to not trust Emma. I also applaud Lucy’s morals but Amy is a bit different because the time travel itself scrubbed her from existence. It’s not like she died and they are trying to rewrite history.

But are they really leaving the lifeboat in North Korea? Wait… so did they jump home, to then jump back to move to the lifeboat? Also Rufus is flying the mothership but Jia could have flown the lifeboat. She purely wasn’t to give Lucy and Wyatt that moment.

Everyone is important to someone - and so they rewrite history for random person but no Amy? And screw Flynn I guess.

Rufus no need to be rude about the knitting. Seriously he doesn’t feel quite like himself. Like came back rude.

Why did they keep the lifeboat and destroy the mothership? Why not keep the stronger ship?

So Lucy and Wyatt had kids and it’s 2023 so they just have got busy real fast for them to be that old. Twins?

Oh no. Oh no they absolutely did not. They called them Flynn and Amy?!?!? Oh hell no. That is wrong on so many levels. I’m not even touching that.

I do like the future imagined for Rufus and Jia. Genius inventors and doing science fairs with kids. Yeah that works.

And I do not understand. They are going back to give Flynn the journal which kickstarts it all. So now they care about paradoxes? Also how are there no side effects now? Ah ok there is the headache at least. But if Lucy and Wyatt have kids then why the hell did BOTH of them go? Surely they should ensure that at least one of them doesn’t have an exploded head.

Praising Flynn - good. Calling him a hero, I like it. That part can stay. But honestly Flynn deserved so much better. Setting him on that journey and even stealing the hope that he ever gets his family back. He obviously thought maybe he could change it anyway but ugh!

And I super hate that Lucy was all “we have to do this or all this will disappear”. Like ok you have your happy perfect life with tenure, and kids, and you need Flynn to suffer and die in order to keep it. Like how is that fair? Lucy is usually so moral and this is horrible.

Soooo yeah.

Considering they had to try and wrap-up everything in two episodes it could have been a lot worse. At least they were clear about what they wanted. I disagree with the Lucy and Wyatt show but they “went big or go home” with pushing it and I can respect that.

I hate that it doesn’t make sense. All the paradoxes will fry my brain. Like the future Lucy and Wyatt? How does that even work but they still had to go back to give the journal to Flynn? Like why are some things the same and others not. It hurts my brain!

I hate what they did to Flynn. He got some respect but no justice.

The hint at future invention of time travel was… something. I guess saying that wiping out the time travel altogether wouldn’t stop it from being a thing. Although I thought the point was Rittenhouse and yet they seem forgotten? Like they got Emma, they got the Mothership but that wasn’t all of Rittenhouse was it? Did they even return the Mona Lisa?

I’m so glad I wrote my own version. That can be my canon. This… sure was something.

[sparklingchan]

Chapter 3|| Stormbringer- Stray Kids Demigod AU

Pairing : Reader(fem.) X Felix

Word count : 3.3k+

Warnings : A fight scene but it’s just practice XD

Genre : Romance, Demigod AU, fluff, angst.

Description: An unexpected incident brings you closer to Felix, but there’s one person who’s not very excited about this blossoming friendship. 

A/N : Things start getting interesting from here *insert the moon face emoji* Enjoy!

SERIES MASTERLIST ||  Click here for introduction to the story and glossary and here for the Stray Kids demigod diaries!

"A near miss, y/n."  Felix whispers in his deep, raspy voice sending shivers  through your entire body.

You blink awkwardly at him for a few seconds before he gets off of you and offers you his hand to help you stand up.

You hear the Aphrodite girls whispering behind you, giggling.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention." Your eyes are looking everywhere but at Felix, the heat from your cheeks making your whole face warm.

"It's alright, " he chuckles, "Are you hurt anywhere?" His freckles look even more gorgeous up close, his toothy smiles reminds you of bright skies and beaches and picnics and fresh fruits. And when the warm afternoon sunlight falls on his eyes, his brown orbs turn into a gentler shade of golden. Breathtaking.

"You're beautiful." You blurt out, involuntarily,  loud and clear so everyone hears you. A loud chorus of gasps run throughout the dining hall.

And you decide to run away back to your cabin with the little dignity you had left of yourself.

And there you are, once again thinking back to yesterday's events while polishing your precious arrow heads as you sit on the Zeus cabin's verandah.

You sigh, "It was the Aphrodite effect, right? It has to be!"

You've been pep talking to yourself all morning long, making up excuses for the way you behaved yesterday. You're too embarrassed to face your friends or the other people at camp.

"I mean he is good looking, but why did I say it out loud. Does he have powers? Like that of Hyunjin? Maybe he can charmspeak. Yes! That's probably it!" You mutter to yourself.

(a/n: Charmspeak is a rare type of hypnotic ability that Aphrodite kids possess)

Or perhaps he'd induced a new sense of adoration in you, like how Aphrodite kids usually can. But then again, they cannot actually induce these feelings. They can only manipulate them which means they'd have to exist in the first place.

You put the arrow back into it's case.

"Ugh!" You let out a loud groan, covering your face with your palms.

The image that you'd spent years to portray in front of everyone is all destroyed in the blink of an eye. Now no one's going to respect you as an only child of the Big Three, they're going to see you as a girl who gets smitten easily and not as the headstrong person you always acted like.

All because of that Lee Felix!

(a/n: big three refers to the three major Greek gods namely Poseidon, Zeus and Hades)

You stand up from the floor, not being able to handle the bombardment of thoughts in your mind, and decide that practicing sword fighting is the right thing to now.

So you find yourself making your way from behind the Athena cabin (where you can clearly hear Seungmin and another Athena kid debating over mortal politics) and then through the Jasmine fields that Apollo personally tends to and down the hill to the weapon practice arena.

"Hey, y/n."

Oh no, no no no.

Why is it that when you are trying to avoid a person that exact person is the one who keeps popping up everywhere? Why is it, you tell me, that Lee Felix happens to be in the practice arena just when you arrive there?

The Gods must be having a nice laughter up there, especially your father Zeus.

"H-hey!" You try to reply with fake enthusiasm.

He has his bronze sword in his right hand while he jogs up to you, his messy blonde hair shining like the sun.

"Did you sleep well?"

No, you hadn't.

"Yes, I did." You laugh awkwardly, "Slept wonderfully."

Felix laughs back, eyes hooded with a hint of shyness that hadn't existed till yesterday afternoon.

He tucks his bottom lip in between his teeth, "Hey, um about what you said yesterday-"

"Do you wanna duel with me?"

If you cannot escape him, you might as well divert his attention.

He looks at you like you'd just punched him in the face. His smile threatening to disappear any moment.

And that’s when you realise asking him to duel with you might not have been the brightest ideas, and not to mention how you'd called him beautiful in front a hundred other demigods last afternoon.

"I'd love to!" He replies, with an excited voice, "Swords?"

You open your mouth to reply, but only air slips out so you subtly nod. He doesn't have to know you're a nervous mess that's lowkey about to pass out.

You walk up to the armory and grab the first sword that you lay eyes on. Truth be told, a sword wasn't really the best choice of weapon for you. It's always been a bow and arrow for you. Bows make you feel at control, like you know what you're doing and you'd always been good at archery, without even trying to.

"Do you not have a sword of your own?" Felix asks almost as if reading your mind.

"No, I don't. Actually I'm more of an archer." You admit.

"Ah, of course. I remember how you killed that Cetus in a single shot. I must say, I was very impressed."

Your cheeks heat up at his compliment. It's not like people haven't complimented your archery skills before - they have, in fact they do it all the time yet you wonder why is it so much more meaningful to you when coming from Felix. Has your biggest fear finally come true?

You shake your head mentally, no, it cannot be.

"Thanks. You're not very bad with your sword either."

Felix acknowledges your compliment with a smile. He then stands up straight, the sword in his right and bows gently, a silly smile playing at his lips.

"Oh we're following the courtesies?" You whisper to yourself, copying his actions.

The both of you stand facing each other, a silent understanding flowing between the two of you while you take your dueling positions.

You expect him to attack first but he doesn't; instead he watches you with a smirk, as if trying to make you flustered.

(It was working but you'd rather never say that out loud)

So he attacks first. He aims his sword near your abdomen but you quickly jump to defend yourself, blocking his attack with your sword. The metallic clang of your swords ringing throughout the otherwise quiet arena. He stumbles back, a surprised gasp leaving his lips as your sword brushes swiftly past his neck while he's still catching his breath, barely touching him though. 

Of course, hurting the opponent isn’t the aim here. Disarming them is.

"She's not bad with the sword." He thinks to himself, a little proud.

He then retorts back, swinging his sword right in front of your face, missing by merely an inch.

Your heart does a backflip, both out of excitement and fear.

You don't waste a second, gaining back your balance, thrusting your sword in the space between his arm and abdomen. Your sword clash together as you try to push his sword back with yours, yet this time he resists, putting in all his energy to make you loose your grip on the sword.

And it seems to have worked because the next moment, he sees you losing your strength, your face scrunched in concentration as you let out a few grunts. He takes a single step towards you while applying more force on your sword with his, and there goes your sword, falling onto the ground gracefully, like a martyred soldier.

"Do you accept defeat, miss y/n?" Felix teases through laboured breaths and you only have enough energy to roll your eyes at him, hitting his arm in response.

Felix passes you back your sword, as he walks over to the bench and slumps down.

Your body is too tired to worry about Felix bringing up yesterday's incident, so you follow him and sit by his side. Neither of you say anything, your fanning breaths and thumping hearts and the buzzing of insects are the only sounds in the arena. You'd never experienced this kind of peacefulness in the camp before, at least not unless you were by yourself.

When you recover from your momentary exhaustion, you look over at Felix and softly begin, "I was wondering..."

He glances at you with a smile.

Does he ever stop smiling?

"I was wondering...since Hyunjin already told you about the game, would you like to be my partner for the capture the flag game next week? I usually go with Minho but he's a referee this time." You say.

He is taken aback for a second - mostly because he'd never thought someone as cool as you would ask him to be your partner. Team games are very important in camps and its important  to make sure that the teammates do not turn out to be poor players. It somehow makes Felix very happy that you'd have such faith in him despite having known him for only two days.

He nods, "I'd be honored to do that."

Your heart beats furiously as you suck in a deep breath, "It's a deal then."

Gosh y/n, what has gotten into you!

*

You decide to take the longer route back.

Felix left early after finishing the duel so you spent the next hour practicing Archery alone before deciding to head back to your cabin.

Your thoughts are all over the place as it is, but the quietness of the woods help you to sort things out with yourself. You feel rather uncomfortable, experiencing emotions that you'd not felt in a long time, past insecurities and memories fighting their way back from the dungeons you'd locked them up in. This was ridiculous, wasn't it? How Felix comes out of nowhere and just flips everything up?

The sun rays fall on you from the gaps between the tree branches and as you listen to the birds chirp around you, you start to slowly hum to their tune.

"Wow, who hurt you, y/n?" A male voice calls you from behind, the sound of leaves getting crushed under a pair of hooves indicate the approaching entity.

"No one hurt me, Eden."

Eden is still as handsome as ever, you wonder to yourself everytime you return to the camp, with a sturdy upper body and beautiful grey eyes and two strong goat limbs instead of normal human legs, yet he's so much more alluring than any satyr you'd ever seen. (Then again, maybe you're just biased because he’s also your childhood friend) He flashes you a handsome smile and you immediately pray to the gods that he doesn't see you blush.

(a/n: Satyrs, also known as Fauns by Romans, are creatures with the upper body of a man and the lower body of a goat as well as goat horns, and the pointed ears of a goat. )

"What's up." He stands in front of you and kisses you softly on the head, "I had gone out yesterday so I couldn't come see you. Hope you didn't miss me too much."

You hit his chest, "You're so full of yourself, goat-boy." You continue walking back towards your cabin, Eden following right behind.

"Woahh. Using Minho's nicknames now, are we?" He snickers, "One of the kids told me that you had a little hormonal outburst last afternoon?"

An embarrassed sigh leaves you lips. The camp kids really couldn't miss out on one day of gossip now could they?

"I don't wanna talk about it." You mutter as yesterday's events flash into your mind. Felix, his face, his voice and your words. Oh God.

"Hey, no judgment here, okay? If you like the new Aphrodite boy then I support you. Do you want me to play wingman?"

You turn around and smack his chest once again. "I do not like him." Yet.

"Okay, okay. I get it." His tone falls serious, "Anyway  I heard about Poseidon's trident. It scared me, I won't lie. Something as powerful as that trident has never been forged in a millennia. And I can only imagine how powerful one has to be steal it. Are you sure only nine demigods are enough to find it?"

"It has to be, Eden." You say, "We don't have too many options. It's either this or we all drown and die or get killed by a monster. I'd like to choose the former."

Eden nods at your words, patting your head encouragingly.

You are about to speak up again when your eyes fall on a woman sitting on a log of wood just a few meters ahead of you.

"Is that one of the Aphrodite girls?" You whisper to Eden, only for him to shake his head in response.

The woman sits with her back facing you, a beautiful white dress adorning her small skinny frame and her brown hair tied in a tidy floral braid. Either the woman is a daughter of Aphrodite's or a Nymph, you conclude.

Without thinking much, you approach her, "Um, hello? May I know who you are?"

A startled gasp escapes your mouth when the woman turns around and looks at you with a very familiar smile playing at her lips - you'd grown up seeing that smile on Hyunjin and very recently on Felix. It's the very same smile, a Xerox copy of it.

"Aphrodite?" You mutter and she nods in response.

"Hello, y/n. Mind if I have a word with you?"

*

"So you were out with y/n? Dueling?" Changbin asks for the umpteenth time this morning, his usually playful eyes now focused seriously on Felix's body language.

"Yes, Changbin," Felix groans, lying flat on his fluffy bed, "Can you stop making a big deal out of it?"

Chan chuckles at the conversation, his eyes though focused on the book in front of him but his ears are on his two best friends' conversation. Chan knew Changbin wasn't the kind to trust people easily, especially Zeus' children so it's not surprising of him to be suspicious about you but what does come as a surprise to Chan is how oddly giggly Felix has been since last afternoon. After that awkward encounter with you. Could it be that Felix..?

"Do you like Zeus' daughter?" Changbin asks even before Chan can finish his line of  thought.

Felix's eyes widen, but the tips of his ears are bright red, "Dude I just met her. Can you not act like a love guru out of the blue?"

"Hey, you're the love expert here. Literally. So, I should be expecting a better answer from you, no?"

"No, I do not like her. Okay?" Felix groans, "But she did ask me to be her partner for the game next week and I'm telling you beforehand Seo Changbin, do not say or assume anything that would make her uncomfortable. "

The warning comes off as rather cute to Chan since he’s always seen the Aphrodite kid as his little brother while Changbin finds his words a tad bit alarming. A Zeus kid is not to be trusted this easily.

"Fine." Changbin mutters, his lips pressing into a thoughtful line, "But just be careful because  I - "

"Don't trust the Children of Zeus easily, yeah we know. Come on, Bin. Let him have some fun and make new friends. You should do it, too. We're not on our own anymore." Chan pipes in to save Felix this time and Felix secretly sends a thankful wink to him in return.

"Okay, okay." Changbin gives in.

The door to Felix's room creaks ever so slightly and the three of them turn their heads in anticipation of who it might be.

"Hey. Sorry to disturb you guys but we're being called for dinner." Hyunjin says, still getting used to having three new demigods around in the camp.

Chan closes his book, "Oh, come on, Hyunjin. You're not disturbing us. Come on in."

Felix gets up to greet his half brother with a fist bump and when he stands beside Hyunjin, the two older guys find it hilarious how terribly small he looks. Almost like Hyunjin were his father.

Felix almost as if reads their minds and narrows their eyes at them, "Dinner is ready guys. Can we move?"

"Shortie." Hyunjn whispers incoherently and makes a run towards the door.

"Hey, come back here you piece of -" Felix dashes right after him.

Changbin and Chan chuckle at their tactics, a foreign feeling of calmness settling between them. "This feels like home, Chan. We're finally home." Changbin admits, almost emotionally.

"Yes, Bin." Chan adds, "And I hope we never have to leave again."

*

"Aphrodite said what now?"

You sigh, running your index finger mindlessly along the lines of the wooden dinner table.

"She wants us to take the new demigods with us to find Poseidon's trident. Especially Felix." You look at your friends, "And she asked me to specifically visit the island of Sicily when we go on the quest. I asked her why but she said she doesn't know it herself."

Hyunjin grunts, almost irritated, "Y/n, I don't know how much you can trust my mother. She's known to cause drama for her own entertainment. "

Well, you do agree with what Hyunjin says but you cannot deny that Aphrodite didn't seem like she was purposely creating drama this time.

"Listen, y/n, you have to go to The island of Sicily. It will lead you to the trident, trust me." She whispers as if she is afraid of someone overhearing your conversation, "Take Felix with you. You'll need him. He'll need you."

You shudder at the memory of her unusually spooky tone.

"What do you think, dad?" Jisung turns to Apollo who has ever so naturally claimed a spot at your usual dinner table tonight, "Do you think we should let new demigods on a quest?"

"I don't think Aphrodite is playing this time. We should listen to her." He taps his finger against his chin, deep in thought, "We need as many people as we can get."

"Well, yeah. That makes sense." Minho says and you nod, "Yeah, Eden can talk to the three boys. He's always been good at all that."

The lack of protests from your friends indicate their approval and after talking about the quest for a few more minutes, Apollo leaves your table.

"So," Jisung chimes in as soon as his father is out of sight, "Our Y/n has been dueling with Lee Felix?"

You let out an exasperated growl, "Oh God, Jisung! It was just today!"

Jisung snickers and sticks out his tongue, rendering your words useless. Minho raises an eyebrow at your banter while the other boys giggle, "Eden tells me you are already smitten."

Eden! God, that Eden, you mentally vow to punch that smirk off of Eden's face the next time you see him. Why does he keep pushing ridiculous ideas into other people's head!

"I'm not smitten -"

"Who are you talking about?"

Your blood runs dry.

Please tell me Felix didn't just overhear this one conversation which includes me having a crush on him.

"Hey, Lix." Hyunjin laughs, "Took you three long enough to get here  I went to your room like an hour ago."

Felix rubs the back of his neck, guilty, "Changbin spilled water on my favorite sweatshirt. "

A short guy - probably Changbin - slaps Felix's back. "Ouch!"

"Liar!" Felix rolls his eyes, turning to speak with you, "Anyway, y/n, I'm assuming you're the only to not have met my brothers yet."

"Yeah, i think so." You reply with a small smile.

Felix pats the back of the two boys on his right and left respectively. "Chan, Changbin, meet y/n, she's Zeus' daughter and y/n, meet Chan, he's Poseidon's son and Changbin - Ares' son."

Oh wow that is a new combination.

The guy introduced as Chan has a kind smile and messy brown hair while the Changbin dude has jet black hair and very intimidating eyes. He looks up and down your form, as if checking whether you were worth being Felix's friend - vibe checking, if you may.

"Hi, I'm y/n."

With the introductions done and dinner served, your group of old and new friends enjoy this peaceful evening together. The loud laughs and sassy remarks and friendly banters make you feel somewhat calm, but a part of you knows this isn't for long.

It’s like the calm before the storm.

"So, are we meeting for practice tomorrow too?" Felix whispers into your ears when he finds the others too indulged in conversation.

Your heart picks up its pace but you manage to nod with pink cheeks, "Yes. Same time as today."

A few seats away from you, Changbin overhears your conversation and decides that he doesn't really like you.

*

Taglist: @chogiwow​@ctrlaltfangirl​@blueprint-han​@whattaweeb​@bigskzz​@judewalid​@kpopssuregi​@crispy-chan​@cookielino​@rebelspy​@persassystilinski@stayctday​@charlieshelves​

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[parvuls]

* adapted from @librajiminn on twitter

a fun game to celebrate 2020 ending! the rules are simple: recommend your favorite omgcp fics so everyone can enjoy them, while trying to fill in enough slots to get a bingo! i ordered my recs starting from top left; my filled bingo card is at the end ✨

most recent fic you bookmarked don't tell your mother by seeingrightly [rating: unrated, probably t | words: 1k] essentially: jack is in madison, and things aren’t easy but at least they’re together. i have an unhealthy obsession with madison/4th of july fics, and every new one i discover brings me joy. i liked this one in particular because of the lovely, clean flow of the writing, and for its attention to the problematic environment: the (assumed) homophobic nature of georgia, and bitty's tension when he’s home as a result.

a fic that made you cry Your heart hurts, mine does too by the_p_in_raspberry (@thepinraspberry) [rating: t | words: 19k] essentially: this fic fills the prompt ‘what if bitty hadn’t come out to shitty?’ the fic deals with exactly the subject material implied, and is inherently painful. this what if version of bitty’s journey with his sexuality was so, so raw, but it was the good kind of pain. i’ll say that while this fic is jack/bitty at its core, i really think its real strength is the team dynamics. they are so there for each other, and it was a beautiful read.

a fic you’ve re-read multiple times Prove To Me You Got Some Coordination by amalnahurriyeh [rating: explicit | words: 17k; the series is 24.5k] “In which Jack Zimmermann has a favorite stripper, some very strong feelings about labour relations, and a good heart.“ when i prepared myself for reading a stripper au, this is not what i expected. this fic is one of my all-time favorites. i adored the politics angle, jack's awkward Helpless Good Guy gestures, and bitty being a complete badass. their soft flirting, the realistic (but positive!) take on sex work, and the careful handling of a potential unequal power dynamic. i don’t think i can count on one hand the amount of times i read this fic.

a fic from your to-read list Never Will You Ever by thefiveboxingwizards (@thefiveboxingwizards) [rating: explicit | words: ~25k (WIP)] essentially: during fall semester of Y2 the team plays never have i ever, which results in jack coming out to bitty. bitty decides to move on, just as jack starts to realize his own feelings. this is the first time i’m reccing a fic i haven’t actually read. i have a strict rule against reading wips for my own mental health (although i have great appreciation for all writers who decide to post them; kudos to you). the premise of this fic sounds so alluring, however, that i couldn’t help but marking it for later and then checking if it’s updated every few days. can’t wait to read it when it’s finished!

FREE SLOT and now what words do I have? by MyCupOfTea (@marchingatmidnight) [rating: m | words: 10k] essentially: jack and bitty love each other. bitty moves to france. jack and bitty continue to love each other, even when it’s hard. this fic could’ve fit several of my slots, but eventually i decided to just rec it on its own. it’s one of my absolute favorites in this fandom. i love it for the writing, the pacing, the decision to tackle a real obstacle in a relationship without unnecessary dramatization. i love the softness the pining trope is painted with; how the distance is awful but they deal with it so well, so healthily. i love when angst is used to build and show the strengths of a relationship, not just to hurt.

a pwp With New Eyes by luckie_dee (@luckiedee) [rating: m | words: 3.5k] essentially: mirror sex with a flavor of intercrural. this fic is set during bitty’s first visit to providence, which shifts the entire tone of the fic accordingly. everything is so tentative and new, and i just really liked how gentle jack and bitty are with each other, how they savor new things. the setting and bitty's thoughts and the whole thing was perfect, and so in character.

a fic that is pure fluff Over Heels by anonymous [rating: gen | words: 2.5k] essentially: jack and bitty and marriage. this is such a soft portrayal that it made my chest ache. it isn’t Y4-compliant, but it is so goddamn cute it doesn’t matter. i especially loved the communication between them, the choice of rings (plus the subtle mentions of jack stimming), and this sort of low key, understated proposal. the last scene with jack kissing the ring clinched it for me: i could picture it so clearly my heart flipped.

a fic with your favorite trope How to Blow a Fuck Ton of Meal Points in 1.5 Semesters. by YourPalYourBuddy (@ivecarvedawoodenheart) [rating: t | words: 5k] essentially: jack finds himself with more meal points than he could ever need, and proceeds to spend them on his team (read: bitty) - which leads to some realizations. the trope this fits is ‘year 2 canon-divergence getting together’, and it’s one trope i will never tire of. i absolutely loved the set up of this because it's so college. i loved jack's characterization, and also their conversations, how well bitty's feelings are translated through jack's eyes even when jack's not completely aware of them, and the ending.

a fic with a trope you don’t usually read Tipping the Scales by akaparalian (@floralegia) [rating: t | words : 7.5k] “Prince Eric, training for a tournament to prove his worth as a knight, goes for a ride in the woods. He accidentally finds a dragon, who accidentally became a dragon because he pissed off the wrong witch.” i’m not normally a fan of fantasy or royalty AUs, but something drew me to this fic anyway. i was not disappointed. i laughed out loud several times during this fic. i adored the translations of their personalities into a knight and a dragon (for example, jack's reaction to training - dying, dead, oh my god).

a drabble that made you want more Picture Us Together by RabbitRunnah (@doggernaut) [rating: t | words: 800] essentially: bitty sets a picture of his boyfriend as his lock screen during the madison visit, and jack finds out. it seems only fitting that i put more than one rec taking place during 4th of july on this list. the prompt was so simple, but the execution was so lovely i wished it would go on and on. things between them at this time were so new and fragile and sweet that i just never want it to end.

a fic with domestic fluff I'll settle in and dream by Stultiloquentia [rating: t | words: 9k] essentially: a future fic with emphasis on jack’s and bitty’s adult life. the realistic domesticity in this killed me dead. it is so, so lovely and soft. i enjoyed every detail, from the dog to the scenery descriptions to jack's hockey arc. every setting was so easy to imagine, and i really enjoyed the journey this fic takes the reader on.

[spine-buster]

The President Wears Prada (William Nylander) | Chapter 21

A/N:  I’ve always wanted to write a super-tropey scene like the bar scene in this so I went ahead and did it and I LOVE IT, OKAY?!  Also, if you haven’t seen, I posted Part 3 of my Elias story last Thursday.  It’s linked on my Masterlist!

Also, just a quick note that I will be returning to a full-time job after Labour Day today.  I have enough chapters written out that I don’t think I will have to skip a week of posting, and I organize my time wisely so that I still give myself time to write, but this is just a PSA/FYI that I may not get to your asks/canon questions super quickly like I have been over quarantine.  They will still ALL be answered, though, so don’t worry about that!

Anyways, enjoy this! 

February 18th, 2020

Aberdeen Bloom was dejected.  

The Leafs had lost their last two games, but these felt different.  They’d lost to Buffalo on Sunday 5-2, and Buffalo was one of the worst teams in the league.  It didn’t even matter that there were a majority of Leaf fans in the building.  Now, tonight, they’d just lost 5-2 again, but this time to Pittsburgh.  She couldn’t keep her eyes off her phone, with tweet upon tweet upon tweet calling this the worst game of the season for the team.  Just an absolutely awful game.  No effort.  No heart.  No soul.  One that they would have to answer for at home, since they faced them again on Thursday, but this time at home.  She didn’t even like hockey and she was taking everything to heart because, well – she was part of the team now.  Everybody had told her that since day one.  And now, at one of the lowest points in the season, she felt that.

She couldn’t stop scrolling.  Couldn’t stop reading what everybody was saying.

It was Tyson who had volunteered to drive her home tonight.  Ever since Morgan broke his ankle, it was a rotation of Tyson or John.  When Emma picked up Tyson, she was just as nice, but she missed Bee.  She missed seeing the way Morgan looked at Bee when they were in the car, because it reminded her of how William looked at her when they were alone.

Aberdeen shuffled into the backseat of Tyson’s SUV.  Tyson was in the driver’s seat, and Emma was the passenger.  Everyone was silent as Tyson began driving into the city – she and Emma could tell he was dejected and mad at the game that had transpired just a few hours ago.  The short flight did nothing to quell his emotions.  And as Emma laid her hand on his on the gearshift, Aberdeen watched as she moved her thumb back and forth, trying to tell him that it was all okay.

“Tys…it’s not your fault,” Emma said softly, finally, after what felt like a lifetime of silence.  

“Em—”

“Tyson, listen to me.”

“—Emma, please, not right now—”

His eyes flashed to hers through the rear view mirror, but Emma wouldn’t listen to him.  “I know it and you know it too.  The whole defence is flawed.  Plus, you guys are missing Mo.  It’s not just you and you know that—”

“—Emma, I really don’t want to talk about it right now—”

“—and besides, if – or should I say when – you’re traded at the deadline, none of this will matter,” she dropped a bombshell.  “Everyone knows you’re unhappy and it’s not working out and that you’re much better suited to play somewhere else.”

Aberdeen felt her body stiffen at the revelation.  So Tyson was unhappy.  Unhappy with playing on the Leafs.  She knew he wasn’t having the best season, especially considering how successful he’d been in Colorado, but she didn’t think it was that bad.  He’d gotten better when Sheldon came in, but apparently that wasn’t enough.  It wasn’t enough to make him happy.  And in Aberdeen’s life, happiness was important.  It was almost paramount.  What you did and who you surrounded yourself with and your work should, ultimately, make you happy.  Was it the same in hockey?  Were hockey players allowed to be happy?  Were hockey players on the Toronto Maple Leafs allowed to be happy?  Or was everything just a business transaction?  A long road to the ultimate success of lifting the Stanley Cup, regardless of who got hurt along the way?

Tyson let out a long sigh as he continued to drive, choosing not to answer his girlfriend or say anything else.  When they got off the Gardiner and into downtown, Aberdeen was almost desperate to get out.  She felt very awkward.  Clearly Emma and Tyson wanted, needed to have a conversation, and she was stopping that from happening.  Just by being in the backseat.  She almost wanted to just tuck and roll out of the car.  Tyson could return her suitcase later.  She really didn’t care at this point.  

When he pulled up outside her condo building, Aberdeen almost didn’t want until he stopped the car and put it in park to click her seatbelt off.  “Hey Aberdeen,” Tyson looked at her through the rear view mirror.  She paused all her movements to stare back at him through the mirror.  “I uh…I’d appreciate it if you don’t mention to Brendan, uh, you know…what you heard…” he trailed off.

Aberdeen stared back at him doe-eyed.  She shook her head slightly.  “I don’t…I don’t tell Brendan about anything I find out about you guys.  I mean I would never…” she said softly, trailing off too.

Tyson nodded, smiling slightly.  “Thanks, Aberdeen.”

“Yeah, it’s no problem.”

When she got out of the car, Tyson popped the trunk so she could get her bag.  After one last thank you, a polite wave, and a push of the button to get it to close, she walked into her condo building.  She nodded towards the security guard before walking towards the elevators.

She wondered if William felt that same way when he played last year.

***

February 20th, 2020

“Get ‘em!” Aberdeen growled as she looked down onto the ice.  “Get ‘em!!!”

Brendan chuckled as he watched Aberdeen, her hands balled up in fists as she practically hung over the box.  He’d never seen her so into a hockey game before, and he didn’t know what had gotten into her.  “You alright, Aberdeen?”

“Get ‘em!”

He got a kick out of it.  Kyle, too, was doing one of those silent chuckles and getting redder by the second.  “Aberdeen, you’re going to blow your heart out.  We’re gonna need to put you on meds,” Brendan commented.  “You gotta remember that you’re staying until the proofs get here.  You can’t waste all your energy now.”

Aberdeen calmed down a bit, but she was still on the edge of her seat.  “Sorry,” she said.  She knew she was maybe taking it a bit overboard, but she couldn’t help it.  After the awful game against the Penguins on Tuesday, the Leafs were dominating them right now.  Freddie was playing phenomenally, Jake Muzzin had just scored to put them up 1-0, and they were getting really good chances.  It’s like the team did a complete 180 from what they were.  She also knew, though, that she needed to stay at the arena later tonight, because the final proofs for the St. Pats jerseys were coming and she was the one who had to sign for them and place them safely and securely in Brendan’s office to see tomorrow.  She didn’t know how long she’d be up tonight, and she’d need to conserve energy.  

“Don’t apologize.  I just don’t want you to have a heart attack,” Brendan smiled. 

With the Leafs on a powerplay, Aberdeen was like a hawk following the puck.  With Tavares, Matthews, and Nylander on the ice, she was praying for a goal.  And then—

“YES!!!!!” she screamed as William scored a beautiful goal, jumping up in her seat and throwing her fist in the air like she was Bender at the end of The Breakfast Club.  From beside her, Brendan and Kyle stayed unnaturally calm.  Aberdeen looked over at them and tried to settle back into her seat calmly.  “Sorry.  Again,” she said, gripping the armrests of her chair.  “But how can you guys be so calm?!”

“You get used to it,” Brendan smiled.

“Well, maybe you do, Mr. Hockey Player,” Aberdeen joked.

“Especially when the camera is on you,” Kyle added.

Aberdeen’s face dropped.  “Oh my God, I’m not on camera, am I?!”

Kyle shook his head, his smile spreading from ear to ear.  “We’ll have to see, Aberdeen, but I don’t think so.”

The Leafs dominated the rest of game.  Kasperi scored another goal only three minutes after William, and Zach scored in the third to make it 4-0.  Freddie got the shutout.  She knew he’d be happy about that, despite his stoic reserve.  As she, Brendan, and Kyle made their way to the locker room, Aberdeen saw the media already speaking to Jake Muzzin.  She knew they’d want to speak with the goal scorers too, and so when she saw William and Kasperi heading to the media room, along with John, Freddie, and Sheldon, she wasn’t surprised.  It was a good game.  Hopefully the media would back down a bit.  

She congratulated the guys and stood on the sidelines as Brendan and Kyle spoke to some of them once the media left.  By that point, some of them were dressed and ready to head home.  “Hey, you want a ride?” Jason offered as he approached her, tightening his tie around his neck.

“Oh, I’m staying back, actually,” Aberdeen informed him.  He looked at her skeptically.  “The final proofs are coming in for your St. Pats jerseys in March and I have to receive them and put them in Brendan’s office under lock and key.”

“Oh!” he exclaimed.  “Well, I can wait with you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Aberdeen, it’s fine.  We can grab a bite to eat afterwards.”

“Jason, I might be here until, like, eleven.”

“So we’ll have an authentic Italian-style dinner then.  All the more reason since I miss my motherland.”

“Jason—”

“Aberdeen, are you really going to say no me?”

She glared at him.  It was like St. John’s all over again.  Before she could open her mouth and say something else, another voice interrupted her.  “Why’re you giving Jason the stink eye?” William asked as he approached them.

“I’m gonna wait with Aberdeen until the proofs come and then we’re gonna grab dinner.  You in?” he asked William, but everybody already knew the answer.

William shrugged his shoulders casually, like Jason hadn’t just invited him to dinner with his own girlfriend.  “I’m in.”

Aberdeen rolled her eyes.  “You two are insufferable.”

“I like to think it’s part of our charm,” Jason smiled.  “Let me call Jen and then we can go trash Brendan’s office.”

*** It was about 10:45 when Aberdeen, Jason, and William ended up at a small bar none of them had ever been to that served small pub-style plates.  It was crowded, for some reason, even though it was a Thursday.  Aberdeen quickly learned, judging by the drink specials, that it was their grand opening weekend, and tonight was their first official night open.  Opening on a Thursday meant pandering to the university crowd for sure (whose pub nights usually took place on Thursdays), but this place was pretty full with an older, gruffier clientele that were seated at the bar and congregated in small groups around the open space in the centre of the room, away from the few booths against the wall.  She wondered if they marketed the place wrongly, or if they just wanted to fill the place so they could say they had a successful opening.  

It was a bit loud, but she, Jason, and William ate their late dinner in relative peace.  They spoke about the game only for a little bit before they moved on to other topics, making it abundantly clear to Aberdeen that they didn’t want to discuss hockey at all.  The food was fine, and so, too, were the beers William and Jason had, but Aberdeen’s Long Island Iced Tea had way too much rum in it so she couldn’t finish.  

By the time they finished, it was almost midnight and Aberdeen was starting to feel her fatigue.  They were told to pay at the bar, so they gathered their jackets.  Aberdeen insisted on paying for her meal, ever going so far as to run up to the bar herself, inching between some patrons in order to pay, before William or Jason could even get out of the booth.  William, however, was right behind her, ready to Jason’s meal on his card.

“H—Hey!  Hey!  Look what we have here!  Y-You’re Wiiiilliam Nylander,” a guy, older and very clearly inebriated, slurred out as he laid his eyes on them.

“That’s me,” William gave a tight-lipped smile, standing just slight behind Aberdeen, waiting his turn to pay.

The drunk guy focused his attention on Jason now.  “You.  Spezza.”

“Yup.”

He turned back towards William, shaking his head.  “Teams like this can’t win the Cup.  Esp-p-ecially not with this guy around.”

That caught Aberdeen’s attention.  She furrowed her brows as the friend of the guy, obviously just as drunk, nodded his head in agreement.  “Don’t have the heart like Dougie or Wendel.  All a bunch of pussies now.  Especially you.”

Aberdeen pulled her card out of the reader dramatically, turning her body so she could face them head on.  “What the hell is your problem?  There’s no need to be rude,” she said, her voice loud and firm.

“Aberdeen, stop it,” William said loud enough for her to hear.

“Y-Y-Yyyyou shoulda just sssigned the contract, man,” the drunk man grumbled out.  

Aberdeen tried again, ignoring William’s plea.  “Sir, this isn’t the time or place,” she intervened, but William’s hands went straight to her waist to move her out of his way so she wasn’t standing in between them anymore.  

Suddenly, it was William closer to the drunk man that Aberdeen.  The drunk guy apparently didn’t like that very much.  “You’re damn – you’re damn selfish!  Ssssselfish and greedyyyy,” the man continued to slur drunkenly.  “Seeeelfish, no good—”

“Sir—” Aberdeen showed up beside William, refusing to stand behind him.

“I oughta hurt you like you hurt the fffranchise.”

Aberdeen’s eyes widened.  That was a threat if she ever heard one, and even though he was drunk, Aberdeen didn’t like the tone of his voice.  “Okay sir,” she chastised.  “You need to stop overreacting.  We’re just here trying to pay for our meal.  This is no time to be a dick.”

“You know what?  Let’s just pay at the other end of the bar,” Jason said, trying to diffuse the situation as much as possible.  He even started to herd William and Aberdeen away from the drunk man and down the opposite end of the bar.  “You have fun with whatever whiskey you’re drinking,” he gave one last look to the man before walking away himself.

“Fuckin’ pussy!” the friend yelled loudly at William, already half way down the bar now.

Aberdeen looked back.  William had grabbed her wrist and was dragging her through the crowd so she’d get to the other side with him.  She watched as one of them slammed his glass down on the bar dramatically.  “Willy—”

“Ignore them, Aberdeen.”

“Yeeeeeah, fuckin’ pussy!  Fuckin’ lowlife!  Worst Leaf on the team!  Shoulda traded you back to Sweden, ya Swedish piece of shit!”

The men continued to yell obscenities and taunt William as they stood at the other end of the bar.  Aberdeen stared at William as he stuck his credit card into the machine, quickly punching in his pin.  “Does that happen often?” Aberdeen asked him.

“Aberdeen, don’t,” he shook his head, refusing to answer her as he pulled his card out of the machine and stuffed it back into his wallet.  It was as if he didn’t want her to know; as if he wanted to protect her from learning just how awful some “fans” could be – at least to him.

“Did you pay?” Jason showed up beside them.  William nodded.  “Alright, then let’s get the hell out of here,” he ordered, herding them again to lead them out.

It all happened so fast that Aberdeen didn’t really know exactly that – what happened.  All she knew was that she heard the guy yell from down the bar.  Then she heard the breaking of glass (commonplace in bars, really) and someone else yell “Put it down!” as she, Jason, and William continued towards the door.  Then another voice screamed “Watch out!” and she, Jason, and William turned their heads to look behind them.

Then it hit her.

Literally.

A glass had been thrown – obviously by one of the drunk men who had been harassing them – intended for William, but it hit Aberdeen right on the forehead instead.  She staggered backwards but didn’t fall.  As she brought her hand up to assess the damage, she could almost immediately feel blood dripping down the side of her eye.  

“Aberdeen!” Jason screamed.

William looked over and saw the blood on Aberdeen’s hand and it dripping down the side of her face.  His eyes filled with anger.  Jason, who was still looking at Aberdeen, saw the look she was giving William.  He whipped his head towards William, who appeared ready to murder everybody in the room.  “Will—William—” Jason tried to get his attention, but to no avail.

“Ohmygodareoyouokaaaaay?!” voices began to ask as they huddled around Aberdeen, William, and Jason worriedly, forming a protective circle around them.  There were so many people, so concerned and so loud asking if she was okay that Aberdeen couldn’t even respond – she was too overwhelmed and too confused to even comprehend what was going on.

That’s when the two men ran out.  When most of the people in the bar were distracted trying to see if Aberdeen was okay, the men had the wherewithal to completely book it out of the bar with nobody stopping them.  It was only William who noticed, screaming out a loud “HEY!” to try and get somebody’s attention to stop them, but nobody moved enough for him to get out of the scrum around Aberdeen to chase him.  William focused his attention back on Aberdeen even though he could feel his cheeks flush red with anger and tears forming in his eyes.  She was still holding the area above her eyebrow cautiously as the bartender waved her over.  Jason and William led her towards the bar, making sure she didn’t step on any of the shattered glass that now littered the floor.  The bartender was already opening the first aid kit.  William heard Jason tell everyone “It’s fine, it’s fine, we don’t need your help, it’s alright, we’ll handle it, we’ll handle it.”

Aberdeen was offered a bar stool to sit on, but she turned it down.  She didn’t want to be on display for everyone to see; she was already embarrassed enough as is.  “You wanna go into a washroom?” the bartender asked, and Aberdeen nodded her head.  He led them to the wheelchair bathroom, since there would be space for all of them, and ushered them in.  “The emergency rooms are just up the street.  They’ll do stitches.”

William glared at the bartender.  “Aren’t you even gonna call a paramedic or something?  What about the cops?” he demanded, his voice shaking from the anger he was still feeling.  “Can we look at security cameras to get a face?”

“Bro, we don’t want cops or paramedics here opening night.  That would kill us,” the bartender said.  William couldn’t believe what he was hearing.  “We don’t have cameras installed yet, either.  Just clean it up and take it to emerge.  It’s, like, two blocks north.”

William felt like punching the bartender square in the jaw.  And he would have, too, for being so insensitive about it, if it wasn’t for Jason opening the first aid box loudly against the counter.  Jason, for his part, glared at the bartender too.  “You can leave now,” he growled, focusing his attention back on finding what he needed within the kit.  “Useless piece of shit,” he mumbled under his breath.

Aberdeen sat on the toilet, trying to collect her thoughts and emotions.  She’d gotten hit with a fucking flying glass in the middle of a bar.  A glass seemingly intended for Willy, thrown by a drunk guy, but it had hit her.  She couldn’t believe what had just happened.  She was sure her hand was covered in blood at this point; she didn’t even want to know what her face looked like.  “Did I get busted open?” she asked, even though she was well aware of the answer.  She needed someone else to confirm it so this all felt real and not like a nightmare.

“Yeah,” Jason said softly.  “Listen, if that dipshit isn’t gonna call the cops or paramedics, I want to clean it before we go to the walk-in.  Your face has a lot of blood on it.”

Aberdeen nodded her head slightly.  There was nothing else she could do, really.  It wasn’t like she was going to reject any medical attention, from Jason or otherwise.  “Is it gonna hurt?” she asked.

“Of course it’ll hurt, but I don’t want any of the blood to crust and dry,” he said. 

“Am I gonna need stitches?  I’ve never gotten stitches before.”

“Move your hand a bit and let me see,” Jason said.  She moved her hand the slightest bit, too scared to move it anymore out of fear that blood would gush out like some Halloween decoration, and Jason looked up close.  “Yeah, probably,” he deadpanned.  William winced at the thought.

“Oh, Jesus.  Is it gonna scar?”

“No.  Not deep enough to scar.  At least not to me,” he said.  She trusted him, if only because he was a father of four and had been around the block a few times.  He cleaned her face as much as he could of the blood that had streamed down.  She watched as he got some alcohol and put it onto a pad, prepped a sterile gauze, and whatever else he needed.    Now, are you ready?” he asked.  

“I guess so,” Aberdeen braced herself.  She took her hand off the injury, relieved that no blood gushed onto Jason’s shirt.  “On three, okay?” she asked.  Jason nodded his head.  She began to count.  “One…two—”

She let out a guttural scream as Jason put the rubbing alcohol on her early so she wouldn’t wince away.  It fucking stung.  The sound that escaped her made Will’s heart drop into the pit of his stomach.  He never wanted to hear it again.  When he looked over, she was writhing on the toilet seat.  Even Jason’s face was pained at her screams, but he was doing what he needed to do.  After doing as much as he could, he took one last look at it before putting the sterile gauze on it, grabbing Aberdeen’s hand to hold it against the cut.  

“You ready to go to emerge?” Jason asked.

Tears had streamed down her face at this point.  She didn’t have a good tolerance for pain.  She nodded her head.  “Let’s go.”

***

It was just past two in the morning before an emergency room doctor saw Aberdeen.  Jason had called Jen to let her know what happened and let her know that he was going to be extra late, and William…well, William was silent.  He was still red with rage as they sat in the emergency room, with Jason and Aberdeen making conversation, but he was silent.  Truthfully, all Aberdeen wanted to do was hug him, hold his hand, and nestle into him, but she couldn’t.  It would have made things a hundred times better, but Jason being there meant that it was impossible.  She noticed William’s silence from the moment they were in the washroom at the awful place and Jason had cleaned the wound.  She was hoping that he wasn’t blaming himself.

“So, Miss Bloom, what happened here?” Dr. Behari asked as she sat on the gurney, Jason and William standing near her with their arms crossed.  

“Some guy at a bar threw a glass and it hit me,” Aberdeen explained simply.  “I think I’m going to need stitches.”

The doctor nodded, then looked towards Jason and William.  “And you’re her bodyguards?” he joked.

Jason smiled, but William didn’t.  “Friends,” Jason said.  “I cleaned it up a bit with rubbing alcohol at the bar, doctor.  I – It was the only thing I could think to do.”

The doctor nodded, stepping closer towards Aberdeen.  “Let me take a look, Miss Bloom, and I can clean it and see if you need stitches.”  Aberdeen took her hand and the gauze off the cut and the doctor put on his gloves.  “Aallllllright…” he mumbled as he checked it, Aberdeen wincing in pain slightly as he pressed down on it.  “You’ve got no residual glass in it, which is great.  All we have to do is clean it up and give you some stitches.”

The thought of stitches made Aberdeen a bit woozy.  She tried not to think about what they’d have to do.  “Is it a deep cut?  Like is it gonna scar?” she asked.

“Not a deep cut at all,” the doctor shook his head.  “I’m only putting it one layer of stitches.  You’ll probably have the slightest scar once it’s all healed but it’s easily covered with makeup, and due to placement, it won’t be too noticeable.”  Suddenly, the curtain that blocked off the room opened, and some supplies and medical equipment were ushered in.  Jason and William looked to see everything that Dr. Behari would need laid out on the tray.  “Ah!  Here we go.  Have you ever received stitches before, Miss Bloom?”

“No sir.”

“Think of it as me putting this beautiful masterpiece of a face back together,” he joked, causing Aberdeen and Jason to laugh.  William still wasn’t laughing, and Jason took notice.  

“You’re great, Doctor Behari,” Aberdeen giggled.  “I’m gonna get a scar like a real hockey player now.”

“Ahhhhh, so you guys are hockey players, huh?” he gestured towards Jason and William.  “I’ve stitched up a bad hockey injury once or twice in my day.”

Dr. Behari continued with what he needed to do, cleaning up the wound and making sure everything was well and prepped for the stitches.  The second he picked up the needle filled with lidocaine though, to numb the area so Aberdeen wouldn’t feel the stitches as much, William became more visibly upset.  For the last two hours he looked like he was about to cry, and now he just looked extremely pained, distressed at the thought of what Aberdeen had to go through.

It took Jason intervening for William to stop thinking over and over about when the glass met Aberdeen’s head; the look in her eyes and the blood on her face as she tried to stop the bleeding with her hand.  “Will, can you breathe for me?” he mumbled, Aberdeen and Dr. Behari too deep in a conversation to hear them.

William started shaking his head.  “He needs to be arrested.  He needs to be charged with assault.  We need to find him,” his voice was still trembling.  

“Will, we’re not gonna find him.  He ran off,” Jason tried to reason with him.  “There aren’t even any cameras we can check – the manager said.  We just have to let it go.”

“No.  That’s not good enough,” William was persistent.  “We need to—”

“Listen to me,” Jason said in a low voice, grabbing William’s forearm and turning him away from Aberdeen and the doctor.  They stood right in between the hallway and the curtain sectioning off the room.  “I understand this is personal for you because it’s Aberdeen, but you need to be level-headed right now, because as much as the doctor is making her laugh, she’s gonna see the stitches and probably get scared.  And she’s going to be looking at you to help calm her down and tell her it will be alright.”

William stopped breathing during the first part of Jason’s sentence.  He furrowed his brows, trying to brush it off, and brush off what Jason was implying.  “I don’t know what you mean about this being personal for me—”

“Will, come on,” Jason interrupted him.  “I’m too old to be fucked with.  We all see the way that you look at her and we know you have the biggest crush imaginable on her.  It’s not like it’s a fucking secret.”

“H—How do I look at her?”

“She’s the only person you ever see, Will,” Jason deadpanned.  “But…beyond that.  You have to remember Brendan’s gonna be asking questions tomorrow at the office.  I’ll handle a majority of that but he’s going to want the story from you too and you better be on your best behaviour or else he’ll figure out your little crush and Aberdeen will be fucked.  Do you understand?”

William couldn’t look Jason in the eye anymore.  He bit down on his bottom lip nervously, knowing that he was stuck between a rock and a hard place.  “I think he already knows…” he mumbled.

“Excuse me?”

“I think…Brendan already knows about the crush.  At the Christmas party out on the ice I guess he caught me looking and he told me she can’t do anything with me until she leaves, and more importantly, I can’t do anything with her.”

Jason looked like he’d seen a ghost.  “And?”

“And what?”

“Are you doing anything with her?”

Here it was.  William’s first opportunity to lie outright to a teammate, a friend, a colleague, a guy that he looked up to immensely.  Aberdeen had had to do it with Siena, now he’d have to do it with Jason.  His girlfriend was a mere fifteen feet away and he had to deny that anything was going on.  “What?!  Of course not!” he said angrily.  

“William I swear to fucking God—"

“Nothing is happening,” he stressed.  “Jesus, Jason.  How awful do you think I am?  I wouldn’t do something like that to her.”

“Don’t fuck with me Willy.  She’s got too bright a future for you to—”

“I know that,” William stressed.  “I.  Know.  That.  That’s why nothing has happened.  That’s why it’s stayed a crush.”

“You promise me right here, right now, in the middle of this hospital while she’s getting stitches, that there’s nothing going on between you two, or so help me God, Willy—”

“There’s nothing going on between us,” William said bluntly.  He saw Jason’s face relax slightly, meaning that he was buying it.  “I’ve got my crush and that’s it.  But there’s nothing going on between us.  Nothing.”

“Woohoo!  Boys!” Dr. Behari called out, interrupting their conversation.  “Miss Bloom wants to hold one of your big strong hands just in case she feels anything.  Any takers?”

Jason raised his eyebrows at William and gave him a look.  William gave Jason one last look before walked over, stood next to Aberdeen, and offered his hand.  She grabbed it without hesitation.

Jason watched.

***

February 22nd, 2020

“What in God’s name happened to your eye?” Brendan demanded as he got his first look at Aberdeen Saturday morning.  In the town car, Lou had already commented on it.  Now Brendan got to see it, bright and early in the morning before heading towards the office.

“It’s a long story,” Aberdeen mumbled.

“Well we’ve got a long drive to the office.”

She sighed.  She recounted the events of the previous night to Brendan, from Jason and William agreeing to stay back with her, to them going to dinner, to the rude men, to the bottle throwing.  Brendan looked more and more horrified as time went on, and especially angry when she got to the part with the rude men.  They were essentially targeting one of his players, one of his star players, with assault; instead, that assault ended up hurting his executive assistant.  And when she mentioned the no cameras and the clueless bartender, he got really angry, because there was nothing he could do either.  

“And so, here we are,” Aberdeen finished.  “I’m three days out from my 22nd birthday and one week out from my party and I have a giant scar on my face.”

Brendan could tell by her tone that she wasn’t necessarily upset about it, per se, but that she was more so a bit self-conscious about how it looked.  “It’s not that big,” he said, trying to not make it a big deal.  “The stitches will be out soon anyway.  You don’t want to see some of the scars I’ve gotten.  I mean…” he trailed off, pointing to the one on his top lip and the one on his chin, “yours won’t look as bad as these.  Won’t end up as bad as these either.”

“You don’t think so?”

Brendan shook his head.  “No chance.  It’s only three stitches.  Did you tell your parents?”

“Yeah, we FaceTimed so I could show them.  They don’t want me in bars past sundown now,” she giggled slightly.  “I’m going to have to go to my doctor before we leave for Tampa Bay to see if they can get taken out though.  By then it will have been four days.  The emergency room doctor said it should be okay by then.”

“I’ll call Noah and have him take a look at it once we get to the arena,” he said, referring to Dr. Noah Forman, the team’s head physician.  “I’ll call Jason and Will in, too.  To let me know what happened.”

Aberdeen nodded her head.  It was only logical to talk to them about it to.  William had been the one targeted, after all.  “Are you excited for tonight?” she asked, trying to change the subject.  

Brendan shrugged.  “Last time we faced Carolina it was an…interesting game,” he said.  “How much more interesting can it get?”

***

Aberdeen was absolutely horrified.  Just absolutely fucking horrified at what was transpiring in front of her very eyes.  A complete and utter collapse.  Something that couldn’t be real.  Something she didn’t want to be real.  Something that was affecting her more than she ever thought hockey would.  If Aberdeen thought that Penguins game on Tuesday was bad, this was a hundred times worse.  A thousand.  A million. A billion times worse.

The Leafs were losing to the Hurricanes.  6-3.  And who was in net for the Carolina Hurricanes?  Their emergency backup goalie, who was, somehow, also the Toronto Marlies’ Zamboni driver.  Yes.  The Toronto Maple Leafs were losing to a Zamboni driver.  Their own Zamboni driver.

She wanted to crawl into a hole and die.  

Brendan had already left the box.  He’d asked her not to follow him.  That made her incredibly nervous, because usually when he was upset or disappointed about games, she was still following him like a little puppy.  That wasn’t the case now; he clearly wanted to be alone and alone he would be, wherever he happened to be.  

When the final buzzer rang, Aberdeen felt her heart rate go up even more, because it now meant that she did have to go find him.  She didn’t want to be in the locker room right now.  The team needed to be with their coach, and she didn’t exactly want to hear whatever was going to go down in there.  She wanted to remain willfully ignorant.  So instead, she began walking towards the offices, where a part of her knew Brendan would be.

She was quiet as she walked down the hallway and towards her desk.  She saw Brendan’s door almost closed, and knew he was inside his office.  She gathered her things, grabbed her jacket, and took a deep breath.  

She knocked lightly on his office door.  “Come in,” she heard him say absent-mindedly.  

She pushed the door open slowly.  When she revealed herself in the doorway, Brendan’s eyebrows rose slightly.  He was surprised she’d come and find him.  But he didn’t want her to know that.  Most other personal assistants he’d had usually let him be when he did something like this.  But Aberdeen was different.  “Oh, there you are,” he said, his voice low as he cleared his throat.  There were a few moments of silence as he thought of something to say.  “We need to go over the, uh…the proofs for the St. Pats jerseys,” he held out his hand.

Aberdeen was nervous.  He was a bit too calm for her liking, considering what had just happened.  She knew he wouldn’t want to talk about it exactly, but still.  “Okay.  Um, yeah, sure.  I have it right here,” she said as she began digging through her bag with all the files in it.  There were so many to sort through, and she knew she was taking a while.  

“By all means, move at a glacial pace.  You know how that thrills me,” Brendan said.

She pulled the proofs out of her bag and handed them to him.  He took them, a bit dramatically she thought, and opened them up.  “Okay, so…they’re done.  They can be sent,” he said dismissively, putting his signature at the bottom of every page of proofs.

Aberdeen was shocked, slightly.  There was so much back and forth on them because they had to be perfect and now he’d just signed off on them?  “They…they’re done?  So I don’t need to bring them back to the artist and fetch them back tomorrow?” she began to pull out her iPad so she could change her schedule.  

“Well, if you think the team is worthy of even wearing these jerseys and want to convince me to not just scrap the whole damn idea…then yes, fetch away.  You’re very fetching, so go fetch,” he grumbled out with a resolute emotion of nothingness in his voice.  

Aberdeen stopped her movements.  Okay, so he was affected by what had just happened.  And he was going to let it all out now, in front of her, with no-one else around.  No Kyle.  No Sheldon.  No team.  Nobody but her.  As she continued to stare at him, he couldn’t look her in the eye; he was looking everywhere in his office but her, even though she stood right across his desk from him.  “You’ll need to contact PR, um…Leslie, to see what she can do to minimize the press on all this,” he continued, pursing his lips together, looking out into a void.  “Another humiliating loss splashed across the Toronto Sun.  I can just imagine what they’re going to write about us.  The Toronto Maple Leafs lose to a Zamboni driver who works for them.  The most embarrassing loss yet, and it’s under my watch.  Every newspaper in this city should cut me a check for all the papers I sell for them.”  He shook his head, pausing for a few moments to collect himself, and finally looked at Aberdeen.  “Anyway, I don’t…I don’t really care what anybody writes about me.  But the team.  I just…the team.  It’s just another disappointment…another let down.  Another bad game.  Horrible game.”

Aberdeen didn’t know what to say.  She knew this was Brendan’s version of spilling his guts out to her.  This loss had taken its toll on him – was going to take its toll on everyone in the organization, and he was the guy heading the entire operation.  It all fell on his shoulders.  And Kyle’s.  But he was the overseer of it all.  He put the brunt of the blame on himself – not on the players or the general manager.  “Anyway, the point is…the point is…” he cleared his throat.  Aberdeen could see him visually recollect himself.  “The point is, we really need to get these proofs sent first thing tomorrow morning, because I’d like to see the jerseys before they get sent to the players.”

It was weird to Aberdeen how he could just switch like that – from experiencing the lowest of the low to going back to normal again.  She wondered if it was a hockey thing, because Willy did it too – he would be upset after losses, especially bad ones, but it would quickly become dirt off his shoulder.  She held on to her emotions and feelings much longer than them.  “I’m so sorry, Brendan,” she offered.  She knew there was nothing else she could say to him.  “If you want me to cancel your morning tomorrow, I can.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.  Why would we do that?” he asked.

Aberdeen offered a tight-lipped smile.  “Is there anything else I can do?” she asked.

Brendan nodded quickly.  “Your job.”

***

Aberdeen called Siena the moment she was out of the office and walking home.  She’d been okayed to go home by Brendan.  She’d texted Will, but he wasn’t answering, so God knows what was going on in the locker room right now.  She didn’t want to stay at Scotiabank Arena for that very reason.  She just knew it was too much for her to handle.  

She knew it was too much because she was already crying.  Silent tears, but tears nonetheless.  She prayed to God that Siena picked up.

“Hey,” Aberdeen finally heard her voice.  “What’s up?”

“Siena…” Aberdeen’s voice was shaky.  “Siena did you watch the game?”

“No, why?  What’s wrong?”

Aberdeen sniffled.  “I never thought I’d be crying about sports but here I am crying about the Leafs!” she blubbered out.

“Why?  What happened?”

“We just had the most God awful game,” Aberdeen huffed out.  “We lost to our own Zamboni driver.”

There was a pause on Siena’s end.  “Aberdeen, are you drunk?”

“NO!!!” she exclaimed.  “Go check the highlights or whatever.  Go turn on TSN.  It was humiliating.  We’re going to get absolutely roasted.  It’s going to be so bad and—”

“Aberdeen—Aberdeen you need to calm down,” Siena urged on the other end of the phone.  “It’s not your fault, Aberdeen.  And it’s not your problem.  Why are you so upset about it?  It’s not like you’re a part of the team.”

Aberdeen felt a punch to her heart at Siena’s words.  But she was.  Everyone had told her that she was – Brendan, Kyle, the guys, everyone – and she had no reason to think otherwise.  It was hammered into her since the beginning.  For all intents and purposes, she was a member of the team, which is why it hurt her so badly.  Siena didn’t understand that.  Siena didn’t understand how all the traveling together made them closer; how all the guys looked out for her – not in a patronizing way, just…in their own way – like they were her older brothers, especially after what happened at Christmas; how the word family was tossed around so often that Aberdeen really felt that this was a family in its own way, with a bunch of moving parts, often dysfunctional, but a family nonetheless.  Siena didn’t understand any of it.  “Yes I am,” Aberdeen said meekly, offering nothing.  She couldn’t put into words what she’d just thought, and even if she could, Siena, with all her smarts, wouldn’t understand them.  “I am a part of the team.”

“Just sleep on it, alright?  I’m sure everybody is going to forget about it by tomorrow morning,” Siena offered, showing truly just how much she didn’t understand.  “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

At that exact moment, a car pulled up on the curb alongside Aberdeen.  When she looked over, she saw William in the driver’s seat.  He was already looking at her.  “Okay, bye,” she ended the call abruptly, stuffing her phone into her coat pocket before approaching and opening the door, slipping into the passenger’s seat easily.

When Aberdeen looked over at William, he immediately noticed her red eyes.  His heart tightened in his chest.  “Why are you crying, minskatt?” he asked.

“How could you not be?” she asked back.

He leaned over the centre console to kiss her.  “Please stop, minskatt.  I can’t stand to see you cry.”

“I don’t know what to feel – what to do – I don’t know what to say to you to make you feel better about this,” she lamented.

“Shhhh shhh shhh,” William kissed her again, bringing his of his hands up to cup her face.  “You don’t need to say anything.”

“Don’t I?”

William shook his head slightly.  “You’re here, aren’t you?” he asked, as if that was enough.  As if that’s all he needed, when really, Aberdeen knew he’d need so much more.  That she would need so much more.  “D’you want to come back to my place?”

Aberdeen looked William in the eye.  He wasn’t asking politely.  He was begging.  She nodded.  “Okay.”

***

Aberdeen was getting scared at how good she was getting at lying.  She’d made up a stupid story about needing to stay late at the arena again for the trade deadline so Kasha would go to bed and not wait up for her.  Kasha bought it.  Aberdeen didn’t even know if she was staying at William’s tonight or if she’d walk into her apartment at three o’clock in the morning again, for the second time in two days.  

(As if William would bring her to his apartment and then tell her to leave in the middle of the night.)

He took her to a tall, glass condo building, only about a ten minute walk from hers but closer to the south core that made him possible to practically walk to all the games if he wanted to.  He held her hand firmly in his once they got out of the car and walked through the parking garage, getting on the elevator.  William pushed the button for one of the top floors.  Of course he’d have a penthouse.  

Aberdeen was still too caught up in her own emotions to realize how big this was – every other encounter had been at her place, and now she was finally seeing his space.  When he opened the door, she was pleasantly surprised at what she was greeted with.  She knew it was rented, and so she half expected it to be kind of dull with no personality, but that wasn’t the case.  There were touches of William everywhere in the apartment – the slight, boyish messiness just adding to it.  Expensive shoes scattered at the entryway.  A few plants that weren’t dead, so she figured they were fake.  A giant, comfy looking couch in the main area with a massive TV that was hooked up to every gaming console known to man.  And pictures.  Lots and lots and lots of pictures everywhere.  All of his family.

She could tell that there was a spare bedroom on one side of the apartment, and she saw a door leading to the master.  William put his keys in the bowl in the middle of the kitchen island, watching her as she looked around his apartment.  “So what do you think?” he asked.

“Do you miss your family on nights like this?  When it’s a really bad game and really embarrassing?” Aberdeen asked, staring at a picture he had of him and him sisters together, holding them all in a giant bear hug as their smiles stretched from ear to ear.

The question caught him completely off guard.  “Of course I do.  I miss them all the time,” he said.

“What do you do on nights like tonight?”

“I sit on my couch and watch TV until I’m not thinking about it anymore,” William admitted.  “Lately I’ve really been meaning to do it with my girlfriend.”

Aberdeen couldn’t help but smile.  Even after a night like tonight, he was still flirting with her.  “Do you have a change of clothes?”

They went into his bedroom – bed messy, but huge; closet overflowing, but orderly; giant floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the other skyscrapers around them – and she changed into a pair of his boxers and a t-shirt that looked Supreme-branded but instead said ‘spaghetti’.  It smelled like him, thoroughly, and the second she put it on she felt like she was being hugged, even though it was about six sizes too big.  They changed together, and when they were done, they made their way back to the living room and William turned on the TV, pulling her towards the big couch.  He made her sit down first before kneeling down between her legs, resting his head on her stomach just beneath her breasts before wrapping his arms around her.  

It was calm.  It was nice.  It was mindless.  William was mindless as he laid there, his arms wrapped around his girlfriend in his clothes, watching TV but not really watching TV.  Aberdeen was mindless as she laid there, running her fingers through William’s hair soothingly, watching TV but not really watching TV.  It was a while before Aberdeen decided to speak again.  “You know, it’s not healthy to not talk about it,” she said.  

She felt William sigh.  “You know I’m not good with words, minskatt.”

“Oh, I think that’s a lie.  You’re great with words,” she said.

“No I’m not.”

“William, every author in the English language wishes they came up with the words, ‘I think about you when I’m not even thinking’, including me,” she countered.

William couldn’t help but smile.  “Those words are only for you,” he said.

“I know,” she said, “but can you please give me some other words so I know that you’re okay?  Because I’m worried.”

The fact that he was making her worried made him compelled to talk.  That was the last thing he wanted.  “I just…I just know that we’re never going to hear the end of it.  And I hate that.  I hate that it’s gonna be the big joke now.  Because hockey isn’t a joke to me.  Neither is the Leafs.”  He paused and Aberdeen was silent, and he knew that silence was urging him to continue.  “It happened because…it happened because they rallied around their goalie.  They protected him.  They had his back.  And we didn’t.  We just…we didn’t.  And I hate it when we do that.  Because I have…I have every guy in that locker room’s back.  I do.  But sometimes it just…” he sighed, shaking his head.  “Sometimes it just doesn’t work out how I want it to.”

Aberdeen had continued to run her fingers through his hair.  She nodded at the end of his speech.  “I’m not going to pretend that I know what it feels like, because I don’t,” she said.  “I haven’t been a fan of hockey and I don’t understand it like you do but I know how much a game like this can affect the group, especially with the media in this city.  But I got emotional about it because I know how much it affects you.  Even if you won’t tell me about it.”

“I don’t mean to not tell you,” William said.  “I just…” he paused again, thinking if he should even say anything.  “It’s that besides my dad and brother, nobody’s ever really…you know, listened.  So I just stopped talking.”

Aberdeen’s heart broke.  At that point, she stopped running her fingers through his hair and forced him to sit up, even though her legs were still wrapped around him, so she could look him in the eye.  She thought about Mike Babcock and what he’d done to Will.  She thought about all the other hockey coaches he had and wondered if they were just as bad.  “Willy…” she said softly, running her thumb along his jawline and lips.  “Willy, I want you to talk to me more.  About hockey.  About your family.  About your feelings.  About everything.  Please.  Please.”

William nodded.  He understood completely what she was asking him to do, and he was going to make a concerted effort to do so, because he loved her.  He loved her so much and he didn’t want to see her worrying about him.  “I will, minskatt.  I will, for you,” he said, kissing her quickly.  He shifted them so she was straddling his body.  “I just have to get used to somebody listening.”

“Willy, I’m always going to listen to you.  Don’t forget that, okay?” she asked, cradling his face in her hands.

He nodded, quickly kissing her again.  The words were coming now, and he couldn’t stop them.  Aberdeen had that power over him.  “What happened the other night at the bar was my fault,” he said.

“What?” Aberdeen’s eyes bulged out of her head dramatically.  “Willy, that was not your fault at all—”

“Yes it was—”

“No it wasn’t—”

“Yes, yes it was,” he said sternly.  “And I couldn’t take it.  I was so mad, minskatt.  I was shaking.  I wasn’t able to stop it or to protect you or—”

“Willy—Willy, stop.  Willy, it wasn’t your fault at all,” she repeated.  “Those stupid guys were drunk.”

“But they were aiming for me.  They hated me.  I wish that glass would’ve hit me instead,” he said, bringing his hand up to her scar and touching it lightly.

“Don’t you dare say something like that.  It was a freak accident, Willy.  There was nothing either of us could do,” she said, hoping he would soon realize it.

William paused for a moment.  “You’d talk to me too, right?  Like you want me to talk to you?” he asked.  Aberdeen nodded her head confidently.  “Were you scared that night?”

Aberdeen shrugged her shoulders.  “Just a little bit.  But you were there.  And Jason.  And when I realized that, I wasn’t so scared anymore.  I’ve been scared before in my life much worse and with less blood.”

William nodded.  “Are you listening?”

“Yes…”

“I love you.”

Aberdeen smiled.  “I love you too.”

They began kissing.  Lightly, at first, and then Aberdeen couldn’t help but stick her tongue down his throat, and William couldn’t help but squeeze at the flesh of her thighs.  As they made out like teenagers on his couch, Aberdeen placed her hands over his and guided them to her ass.  

William giggled slightly into the kiss.  “Aberdeen…” he said in a playfully accusing tone.

“I only want to remember feeling your hands there instead,” she mumbled against his lips.  

William froze.  Suddenly and all at once, her words hit him like shards of glass, cutting him to his very core.  “I’ve been scared before in my life much worse and with less blood.”  Ethan.  She still thought about what happened with Ethan – she still thought about it and it affected her and it made her scared, something she hadn’t admitted to before.  William felt like killing Ethan all over again right then and there, with Aberdeen sitting on his lap.  What affected her wasn’t a physical wound; what affected her was something much deeper.

“Listen to me,” he said, his hand cradling her chin, thumb gliding over her lips softly as she’d done to him earlier.  “Nobody is going to do that to you again, okay?  Not while I’m here.”  

Aberdeen nodded her head.  She believed him completely.

“I mean it, Aberdeen,” he pressed.

“I know.”

“If I ever saw him on the street, I’d fucking kill him for what he did to you.  For how he made you feel.  And I want you to know that, like…you’re not what happened to you.  You’re so much more.  He was a pig who couldn’t see that but I can,” William said.

Aberdeen almost burst out into tears at his words.  You’re not what happened to you.  You’re so much more.  She could have cried right then and there.  But instead, she nodded her head before kissing William again, even more eager this time, wanting to show him just how much she appreciated him, just how much she believed him, just how much she loved him.

[why-this-kolaveri-machi]

chin fucking up, amigo.

Titans 3.02

... eh?

SPOILERS ahead.

1. you know that music video for billie jean where michael jackson would dance along the pavement and the tiles would light up under his feet in different colours? yeah? me too.

titans hasn’t met a table top or a support arch that it doesn’t want to light up in a headache-inducing blue like the world’s most boring nightlight. i mean, i’m not an expert on lighting or cinematography or just... colour by any means, and the quality of the video i’m watching is poor given that i can’t access hbo max, but all the orange and teal and neon is making it very difficult to really differentiate between say, the batcave and the gotham police department and hell, the titans tower. i feel like there’s oftentimes a gap between idea and execution with titans, with gotham being this almost otherwordly hellscape with an aesthetic pulled from a gothic horror novel, but the colours and design just... leave it flat and dark and dull.

1.5. like what really frustrates me is that titans has a delightful mix of tones--the fights often remind me of schumacher-era batman camp, with the contrived quips and the start-stop rhythm and krypto just sallying in and ending the fight with a fucking SuperBark (tm) but in the same episode you have red hood just casually pulling out severed heads out of a duffle bag and desperate people blackmailed into killing themselves out of drug overdoses. I MEAN. it’s wonderful! but it looks all the same. it sounds Absolutely Bonkers on paper but on screen both Quip and Murder happen in the same washed-out blue and i wanted to be excited about the batcave, dammit!

2. things re: red hood have happened at such a breakneck speed that it feels like there’s so much that’s happened off-screen that we’re not privy to. a real proper mystery! 

things that are intriguing about the red hood arc so far:

a) what was that chemical he huffed just before going to fight the joker? is it a regular old performance/adrenaline booster or is it something more lazarus-juice adjacent? if it’s the latter, i can’t imagine he got that much information from a lone chemistry textbook. and where is he getting the resources to set up his little chemistry lab? is somebody else orchestrating things behind the scenes?

b) the red hood persona, costume and mask, plus the elaborate plan he’s putting in place to both string along gotham’s rogues and enact his revenge against the titans seems too... fully-formed and elaborate to have been concocted in just a few days. how long do you think jason’s been planning this? just... stewing in resentment and building rage, dismissed and passed around and underestimated and realising that the power he thought he would get by being robin is no power, no protection at all, but something that’s left him even more vulnerable than before? 

c) do we think that the scarecrow is at least partly behind this transformation? because yes, it was batman that set up this whole hannibal lecter-esque situation with him, and he would be irresponsible enough to have jason-as-robin go talk to him regularly regarding “~profiling~” criminals. it’s not too far of a leap to assume that scarecrow could’ve been manipulating jason at a very vulnerable time, and that he could’ve passed along some of his chemistry know-how, too.

d) ... or fuck, i wouldn’t put it past titans to introduce ra’s al ghul in a fucking ten second aside

e) anyway, the thing that won’t leave me alone is jason seeking out the joker not necessarily to fight him, but to orchestrate his own death. the whole thing has to have been part of a bigger plan. he broke batman with it, after all. and he’s starting to break the titans, too.

f) i love it! i mean, it does re-tread some of the storybeats we had with deathstroke last season (turning the titans against each other as revenge, etc) but it’s... tighter, this time, and at least for now seems better-executed. and as a red hood story it’s different enough to be really interesting, and i appreciate the ways in which its reframed the revenge story to focus on the titans rather than just the batman. like fuck everything up, i say! turn it on its head! slash the innards out of that sacred cow and strew it like garlands in the path of the Story You Want To Tell!

(and yes i am fully aware that by the time i post this review, there will be a whole lot more information out but if i come across like a fool then goddammit i will be a fool!)

2. i love how every season of titans starts off with, ‘oh dick, you thought you were settling into a role and a life and a pattern of relationships? well fuck you, here’s a terrible and traumatic thing, tons more responsibility, and circumstances that will lead you to uproot your entire life and move somewhere else.’ and dick’s just like, ‘well, ok. fuck you, but all right’.

can you imagine? the man was just settling into leading a team in sf and smiling for the first time in years, and now he has to deal with jason’s death, bruce experiencing a full fledged breakdown, coming back to a city that represents more bad memories than good, red hood, and a frightening new case that seems to be targeting him and his team. it’s a testament to dick’s growth that he’s not reacting to this stress like he did last year, shutting everybody out, making irrational decisions and experiencing sharp, short bursts of anger. (not to mention a full fledged psychotic episode.)

2.5. but i’ve also talked about dick performing a fair amount of unwarranted emotional labour for his team(s) in that he just lets them take out their frustrations on him and... does nothing. be it his team exploding at him for jericho (both in flashback and present-day) or donna and hank needling him for handling deathstroke poorly or barbara berating him for not handling the bank situation as well as she thought batman would though just the previous episode she had talked about how fucked up it was that bruce just expected dick to step up and replace him in gotham without any real notice. i mean it’s all perfectly understandable and sympathetic from their end--and i’m not trying to bash them here!--but hank, my man, the same chin you’re asking your amigo to keep up is the one that you punched last year and never apologised for. just sayin’.

2.75. @superohclair did a wonderful breakdown of what the ‘fear’ contract could imply here and there’s not too much i could add to that. it’s just really interesting that fear ended up being such a defining feature of their lives, albeit it’s the fear of seeming less than invincible in the face of bigger, more tangible fears. am i making sense?  dick feared loss, and abandonment, and the more existential concept of turning into something that he didn’t want to. bruce so feared being alone that he’s scouting kids to replace robin within days of jason dying. 

it also goes some way in explaining the tense sort of... restraint that bruce and dick show in the wake of loss and tragedy, like anything less than complete control of your emotions can lead to tragedy. it’s conditioning that dick couldn’t shake off when he was at his lowest in detroit, hating his legacy but unable to let it go either.

2.775. but i definitely appreciate the softness that dick displays with his team now, checking on them after a mission-gone-bad, welcoming back old members with no caveats or resentments (and kory’s delight in seeing hank back! hank and dick hanging out together and hank trying to prop dick up!), and appreciating their teamwork in solving cases. that’s always been the essence of dick as a person, and the beating heart of this show: flawed and traumatised people coming together to a place that will always be open to them, where they can be their worst and be supported still, allowed to make mistakes and grow from them. that’s family.

2.8. coming back to bruce for just a sec, it’s interesting how that gotham rogue was so certain when he said that ‘batman doesn’t kill’ but it’s not a rule that either jason or dick put much store by when they were robins. the ‘no-killing’ rule clearly didn’t mitigate dick’s fears about turning into batman and jason’s never been seeing giving two shits about it. it seems to me of a piece with bruce’s distant, second-hand sort of parenting that we see in dick’s flashbacks from s1 where the fear was never about personally disappointing batman, but taking lessons from him on finding a place in gotham’s hellish ecosystem and surviving.

3. kory having waking flashbacks! i don’t buy the bullshit parasomnia episode explanation from fake!HPG (because c’mon, justin has to be some sort of tamaranean ruse) because for one, you have to be actually asleep for that diagnosis. 

(and here i was, hoping against hope that HPG would actually end up as the team’s therapist)

curiouser and curiouser! i wonder if these flashbacks are from the time between kory landing on earth and the beginning of season 1, when she was completely amnesiac? it’d be cool if the show was considering repercussions from that time, and if kory hasn’t gained all her memories back. 

4. i just love the vibes between gar and conner and kory. gar Having Things To Do is only one part of my wishlist for him, however: other parts include having an actual story arc, and actually bonding with members who are not conner and kory. (dick! dick! hank! dick!)

anyway. time to move on to watching ep3 and seeing this family bond and nothing terrible and tragic happening at all, nope, nosiree. 

[fangirlings-things]

The Border Control Project [Part. 2]

• ───━━━━─ ● ─━━━━─── •

Fandom: Extraction

Pairing: Tyler Rake x female reader

Summary: you're Tyler's next mission and turns out, you need him more than you want to

Word count: 2.4K

Warnings: curse words, violence and mentions of kidnapping

Based on this imagine

Gif credit: @thoresque

A/N: thank youuu so much for all the feedback guys!! I was so happy to know that you liked the story so here I am with part 2, hope you all enjoy it!!

Part. 1

Theme song: Shameless, Camila Cabello

Right now I'm shameless

Screaming my lungs out for you

Not afraid to face it

I need you more than I want to

• ───━━━━─ ● ─━━━━─── •

In a matter of five days, Tyler had learned a lot about that (Y/N) (Y/L/N). The file he had asked for had been delivered with not less than sixteen pages and a pen drive. There, the intelligence people had gathered everything they could find on social media and informations passed to them by the family. With that intel, he was supposed to know her even before he actually did. 

He found out that (Y/N) had been born in Chicago, on the 4th of July. The bloody fireworks of independence day were blowing up in the sky while her mother finally gave birth after a 13 hours labour. Through all her childhood, she went to private schools and had the best education a kid could possibly have. She graduated high school with excellent grades and went strictly to the University of Illinois at Chicago, to study History. 

She loved coffee and was fascinated by ancient artefacts and events. Her favorite movie was Star Wars. She was a great fan of Queen and even had a Freddie Mercury poster at her beedrom back in Chicago. Books were a passion of hers, she had read over forty at the age of 18, when other teens would probably be causing trouble around and getting themselves into the life of alcohol and sex. But that didn't mean that that girl didn't knew how to party as well. 

She frequently attended to parties, drank just enough to the alcohol in her system to make her happier and would dance through the night with her friends. Tyler saw some pictures and a video and in all of them, that girl seemed to have no worries at all. She smiled, laughed, passed her hands through her hair and closed her eyes to feel the beat of the music that was ringing in her ears. The thought that she might never smile like that again after what was happening, kinda disturbed him. 

It took some watching through surveillance cameras, intel and study of some rotes of the city, but the team Nik had putted up together called a meeting with everyone who was out after exactly a week since they had first gotten there. They had found (Y/N)’s location. 

She was being kept at a incredibly large house for Guadalajara's standards. That part of the city was one of the richest and yet, that place stood out.

With it's enormous extension, the odd distance from every other building in a raid of three miles, metal huge gates and the two heavily armed men guarding the way in, it pretty much seemed like a fortress. A place where important people would probably hide in troubled times. Although in that moment, it was being used by a total different goal.

Such goal placed Tyler just where he was, on the inside of an old '75 Chevrolet, driving smoothly and calmly while heading to the adress he had watched for a day and a half from the woods near by. He had gone there with questions, and came back with it's answers. How many men? At least twelve, plus the two at the gates. Who went in? Not a single soul. Who went out? Two men in a black SUV. Probably the driver in the front and the big boss, whomever that was, in the back. He didn't get a clear visual on any of them to get facial recognition. Which pretty much, pissed him off.

Tyler had gotten into his head that he wanted to figure out who was behind that shit. Who wanted to shut down the Border Control Project and had gone far enough as to kidnapp the daughter of the Senator. Nik had been right before, when she said that a lot of people could have done it. Dealers, traffickers, corrupted politicians, dirty cops. A bunch of them could go down with that project's approval. Whomever it was, the odds weren't good for (Y/N). But well, that's where he came in. To improve those odds. To fucking rescue her and get his money.

When Tyler made a turn to the left and the house he was going to invade showed up in his sight, he took a deep breath and instantly began to slow down the Chevrolet, making the velocimeter drop quickly, until he stopped right in front of the metal gates. 

"¿Qué estás haciendo?" the smaller of the two men guarding the gates was quick to approach the car with his ACR firmly between his hands, a stern expression on his face. 

What are you doing. Tyler putted on his face the best surprised and scared look he could, while taking his hands out of the wheel and then raising his hands in the air. He kept his bright eyes locked on the gun the man caried, trying to make him see the fake fear he was showing. 

“Salga del coche, cabrón!” again the smaller of the guards spoke up, just as Tyler reached for the window of the car that was closed. The fact for itself seemed to piss the guard off, because now from up close Tyler could see that his knuckles were white from gripping the ACR too tightly. “Vamos, vamos!”

“No habló español! No hablo español!” Tyler placed as much accent as he could on those words, eyes still on the other's gun. Get out of the car, of course he understood. But oh, he wasn't going to do that. Not before the other guard came closer as well. 

“Step out of the car” translated the taller man, doing exactly as Tyler predicted, taking a few steps towards the Chevrolet. 

Tyler nodded, keeping the frightened expression in his face. Slowly he opened the door and got out of the car, stepping in front of the two men with as much causality as he could with his hands in the air again. The smaller one kicked the door of the car closed and held his gun straight to Tyler’s face, as the taller one came even closer and analyzed Tyler up and down with a uninterested look.

“Who are you? What are you doing here?” the taller guard asked, calm but yet, as dangerous as the other one. He had his hands on his gun, but just for protocol. His grip wasn’t that tight in the metal beneath his fingers. His mistake, Tyler thought to himself.

“My name is Jeffrey, I’m a tourist” Tyler said with the best worried voice he had, keeping his eyes locked on the one who could speak english. “I lost my turn on the road and don’t know how to get back to the city. Please, I just stopped for information”

The taller man squeezed his brown eyes, thinking about his words. Deciding if he should believe him or not. After minutes that seemed like hours, he bought the story and nodded for the other to lower his weapon. His second and last mistake.

Tyler acted like a lightning. Too quick. He elbowed the smaller one that was closer, kicked him in the legs and made him fall, hitting his head on the ground. Just before the taller one could grip his weapon firmly enough to shoot, Tyler grabbed it and took it out of his hands after throwing him a punch. Two shots, the taller one was gone. He turned around to shot at the smaller one and was surprised to see that he had already gotten up and charged forward, aiming the gun to his face again. Tyler pulled the trigger four times. The blood wet the ground and he was alone.

“The front gate is clear” he said, after pressing the wire in his right ear so that the team could hear him clearly. Leaning down, he inspected the smaller one’s pockets and after finding nothing, went to the other dead man and found the keys to open the gate in his back left pocket. The keys he had seen they use while he was on watch.

“Well done, Jeffrey” Nik’s voice seemed to come from inside his own head, like she was his consciousness. As he smirked for a moment for the childish thought, he couldn’t deny, that would be a good thing for him. To be rid of his bloody consciousness, if he had one at all.

“I’m going in” he twisted the keys on the gate and heard the lock click, opening. 

Instead of entering though, he stepped to the side and leaned against the big walls. As he expected, the men from inside had heard the gunshots and went to the gates. Now, they were stepping outside slowly, with their guns held high and strongly.

Tyler took a deep breath. Feeling excitement run through his whole body in the form of pure adrenaline, he started to pull the trigger over and over again.  

            • ───━━━━─ ● ─━━━━─── •

You woke up to the sound of gunshots. Endless gunshots. They scared you and ringed in your ears as if they were coming from millimeters away. You thought if some of the men had began a fight between themselves. You had heard some of them arguing before, but they never got violent. Until now, anyway.

The idea that they could be distracted occurred to you and you found yourself realizing that that would be the best moment for you to escape. To try and get out of there without being noticed. Even the man that guarded your door, Juan, as you had heard other call him, was gone. Probably to inspect the origin of the firing.

Pulling against the restrains with enough force to scratch your skin you tried desperately to be free, not allowing yourself to make a single sound behind the gag. Oh no, you wanted them to continue forgetting that you were there and that you were now alone.

The gunshots stopped after so much time that now the sudden silence felt weird. The quiet made you panic, because you were very aware that your chance to escape was slipping away from you. Your only chance.

You started to scream from frustration behind the gag, crying and pulling so much that your arms ached and hurt as if they were being cut open. The door then was kicked open and that was when you really started to scream.

That man, you had never seen around the house you had been taken to. He was really tall, blond. Wore a blue shirt that had the same color of his eyes and old jeans. He was covered in blood. So much blood. In his face, arms, boots. Blood everywhere. The sight made you sick with fear. Was he the one sent to finally kill you? The moment he pulled out a knife from his waist, you got the confirmation you needed.

The tears wet your face and you made one last, useless attempt on the restrains. He got closer to the mattress, towering over you like a fucking building. You closed your eyes and took one last deep breath, finally accepting your fate as he kneeled on the floor beside you.

And then the restrains were gone.

Opening your eyes, you felt his rough hands touching your skin as he took the ropes completely out of your arms and then reached for your gag. Instantly, you kicked him in the legs making him fall on his side.

You ran out of the room, your hand flying to your own mouth and taking the gag out. You tossed it aside and forced your legs to work as without any orientation you tried to find your way out of that place. You ran as fast as you could, but you only made it to two corridors until you found yourself falling to the ground with a heavy weight upon your body. That man’s body.

You screamed and kicked, pushed and punched. Freedom was so close. You just had to…

“Stop fighting!” the man spoke for the first time, turning your body towards his and grabbing your hands when you tried to punch him in the face. He pressed your wrists with an iron grip to the ground. You continued trying to kick him, and that made his grip get harder. “Listen to me, (Y/N)! I’m here to save you!”

That made you go still. Frozen in place. None of the men there before had used your name. Never. You had the feeling that they didn’t even knew who you were. They were just tools, used to keep you under control under the command of someone much more important.

You stared into the man’s eyes, analyzed his expression. It was serious, dangerous. Some of the blood from his face fell on yours as you just stared at him and thought of the odds of him being actually telling the truth.

“If what you say is true then get the fuck away from me” you growled at him, every word hurting your throat as you spoke again after so much time in silence.

“Will you run if I let you go?” he asked fiercely, staring deeply into your eyes with such intensity that it made you nervous. Only when you denied with your head, he complied to your demand and released you, getting to his feet.

You got up slowly, without taking your eyes out of his for even a moment as you did. Your eyes went down to the knife that was back at his waist. You swallowed dry and tried to run again, but he seemed to have predicted that for the way he grabbed your forearm before you could get even a few steps away.

“Listen to me!” he grabbed both of your arms and shoved your much smaller body into the nearest wall. “Your father hired me! The Senator! I’m here to get you to safety but I cannot do that if you keep trying to run from me!"

“And I am just supposed to believe you?” you looked up at his face, the dry tears on your face now were mixed with blood you had gotten from him. “How can I believe you?”

“Your name is (Y/N) (Y/L/N)!” he said firmly, his grip still firm. “Your mother is Eleanor and your father is Charles (Y/L/N)! You love coffee, you were born in Chicago! Your best friend’s name is Maggie! Your favorite movie is Star Wars and you study History at college! Your first cat was named Thomas, he died two years ago!”

You just stared at him in complete shock. It was true. Everything he had just said about you. He new everything. Stuff no one could know unless they had spoken to your family. He was telling the truth.

“Y-you’re telling the truth” you said in a weak tone, trying to wrap your mind around the fact. After such time being a prisoner, you couldn’t believe it.

“I am” he seemed calmer now that he could see you believed him, but his eyes were still dangerous. Still completely alert. “Now let’s go. We have to get out of here before whomever kidnapped you notices what I did and sends reinforcements”

• ───━━━━─ ● ─━━━━─── •

tag list: @posiemax ; @annaallicce ; @alievans007 ; @imiiimargo ; @chickensarentcheap ; @fangirlsarah16 ; @innerpaperexpertcloud ; @ri-wantstorunaway ; @keikomia

[pinkysfaultorbrainsfault]

pinky and the brain - s1e3b: that smarts

here it is. lol.

episode summary: frustrated at pinky’s constant disruption of his plans (okay, brain, if you say so) brain invents a machine to make him smarter. it goes about as well as you think it would.

the rundown:

it’s acme labs.

unless this is just some cage in the middle of nowhere, i guess. i don’t know.

no, wait. definitely acme labs. brain is writing in his Mouse Diary, probably relating the weird dream he just had about being in post-war japan. he has a lot of those, it seems, probably because it’s a good way for the writers to keep the status quo.

mumble mumble grump grump mumble mumble

“ah!” like he’s just discovered something. you’re not getting anywhere with those formulae though, brain. ∞A2-A= 2 to the tetration is just absolute gibberish and it’s not going to help you at all.

still, i’m glad he’s found what he’s looking for. satisfied with his nonsense calculations, brain calls pinky over.

bomp.

“narf.”

“what were you doing up there, pinky.”

“oh!” says pinky, who has just remembered he’s british. “i was having a devil of a time cleaning the chimney, brain.”

“we don’t have a chimey.”

“oh, well. there you are then.”

yeah.

brain reassures pinky that he is nowhere near the ceiling, which is good, because we don’t want more asthma than this poor guy already has. instead, he proposes to pinky that he’s figured out why they haven’t taken over the world yet.

“oh, i know why, brain. it’s gremlins.”

LITTLE SPRINKLY SPRITES THAT CONFUSE US

ALWAYS TWIDDLING THEIR LITTLE FINGERS IN OUR EARS

“an interesting theory.”

i like how brain draws himself, here. with the little ¬¬ face. grompy.

“but i have reviewed our past efforts, pinky, turning the situations into numbers in an effort to locate the exact problem.”

“well that sounds, um. narf.”

“yes, i’m sure it does.”

luckily, he’s plotted them all out on his little graph plotter, which is apparently going to paint a picture of the thing that’s ruining their plans... because... that’s how numbers work.... apparently? coming from the guy who thinks you can multiply infinity by -2 tetrated, forgive me for being skeptical.

let’s see how this goes!

oh.

still, pinky looks like he wants to put it on the fridge, so it’s not all bad, i guess. “egad, brain! that looks like me! but flat!”

“it is you, pinky. my calcuations have indicated that you are the problem.”

ouch.

“p... pinky?”

the leering figure of brain in his Man Suit behind him doesn’t help the tone, and should also probably serve as a reminder that sometimes it’s-- well, we’ll get to that.

poor pinky. ):

brain rubs it in further by deriding pinky as a “spazzy, beetleheaded dufus.” he has.... diagrams, to match. this is all very rude and unneeded.

😭😭😭😭😭

“but you’re not getting rid of me, are you, brain? i mean you? working as a single? look at what happened to jerry lewis when he split from dean! all that stuff in your hair--”

<gay little hand flip>

“point taken.”

“but fear not.” <gay little hand flip in response.>

but brain has another plan! he is going to make pinky smart. so that’s not too bad, i guess? oh he’s making me change everything about myself! but at least he didn’t dump me.

hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.

i’m waiting for the christmas episode.

so brain gets pinky all strapped into the promare spinny machine.

he also makes this face when pinky asks why people don’t usually just make themselves smarter. so okay. he maintains that “the problem is in the execution”, but quite frankly i think it’s because most people aren’t into eugenics.

anyway brain activates the smartsotron.

it, uh. i don’t know why this shot was taken from this angle. i’m sorry. i’m sure, historically, it made a lot of people happy.

brain does some more scientific mumbling.

“fourty seven knots, six-- nineteen kelvin, fibbonaci, n minus one,”

“coming-- coming--”

in the nicest way possible, brain, i’m not sure he is.

“now!”

if you say so, brain. he goes off to pull the lever that. does that.

it has an effect.

the face of a man who is enjoying himself, apparently.

brain also shorts out the whole electricity for acme labs, which is very funny.

“pinky?” says brain, like he was concerned for his health like five minutes ago, when he put him into the bloody thing in the first place.

“oh, that was fun, brain! haha ha. narf. hoo! i’m all tingly! woo woo.”

“fun, perhaps, but obviously not successful.”

“oh, no, no, i think it was!”

“at first i thought the folded dipole wasn’t working as your centrefed, horizontally mounted conductor,”

“but frequencies below thirty megahertz--!”

“loud and clear! haha!”

“and i must say, brain, the peak value wave shape of the impulse voltage? glorious! i mean, hitting that maximum value without appreciable, superimposed oscillations! egad brain! brilliant!”

haha ha.

“YES!”

good for brain. the worrying implications of his assumption that making pinky smart would cure his tourettes??? we can worry about that later.

narf.

anyway, so tonight’s plan for world domination is that brain will pose as jimmy hoffa--

okay.

anyway, he intends to pose as jimmy hoffa and manipulate the old labour leaders into worshipping him.

with that, they will help him utilise the industrial complex to build a “forced vertoconvector”, whatever that means.

“it will create millions of steaming, tiny guysers that will actually lift people several inches off the ground, immobilising them.”

“egad, brain! it’s like giant air hockey!”

unfortunately for brain, his coefficient values are wrong. “it’s suppose to be sin, not cosin. kind of flips the whole thing around. haha. won’t work.”

inside his head, brain screams, quietly.

but never mind! initially, he’s excited, because pinky has saved them a whole night’s work! tremendous!

and luckily, he has a backup plan, which is also totally going to work. “take a look at this one,”

“colleague.”

“oh, brain.”

this is how mice flirt, i guess.

ignoring that “colleague” is a slight downgrade from “lifelong friend,” brain explains that he intends to program a computer to generate a fantastically popular romance novel, that i actually don’t want to look at the cover of for too long.

ew.

let’s move away from that. the romance novel “will contain a hypnophonetic sentence so long and so confusing that the reader will be forced to reread it, endlessly, out loud, and the frequencies of those sounds will hypnotise all those around them, primed for my suggestion that,”

I RULE THE WORLD. it’s not quite a close up but it’s a funny face so i’m counting it.

pinky is not as hype.

“the frequency needs to be an exact integral multiple of the input, doesn’t it? or it’ll be all wobble wobble bluueeroooogh.”

that’s one way of putting it. “not hypnotic at all, nope. won’t work.”

“yes. you’re right.”

brain is not enjoying this any more, it seems.

“by converting our cage into a nuclear reactor, we can produce enough energy--”

“but your migration area is tiny, brain! the neutron will never be able to slow down from fission to thermal in here!”

“please, pinky. let me finish--”

“but it’s got to be at least one sixth of the square distance between--”

“pinky!”

lms if you are the square distance between pinky.

“it seems to be, brain, that it’s not my fault at all that these plans haven’t worked.”

man. we don’t get to see pinky mad at brain very often? i love it. please let him get this mad in the reboot. madder, even. let them argue, wb!!

i don’t think brain has much grounds to argue, considering that he is, of course, the inventor of Really Big Magnet That Sticks People To The Floor By Their Pocket Change. still, he gives it a go.

he drags pinky back over to his weird little graph machine, citing that he “calcuated it himself” and “the numbers don’t lie.”

<gay little hand flip>. that’s not entirely fair because this is a tween but. it’s funny.

“actually, there seems to be a little booboo right here.”

poke.

he sets about correcting it, of course!

brain may well be at his limit.

(they angle that through the bunsen burner as it boils over, which is a very nice touch. it’s a metaphor, kids! he’s having a Hard Time.)

“these-- this!--”

“it’s preposterous what you’re saying! it’s ridiculous! it’s absurd!”

“but brain--”

“just go!”

“naaaaaarf.” going mouse! leave. ):

but now that brain has vented his own raging insecurities, he has some calculating to do.

well! isn’t that a merry little plot twist.

brain’s response to this is to have a nervous breakdown, because of course it is.

“no!” he cries. “he’s even smarter than i! smarter!”

“but i have accepted my own errors. the team needs balance. balance! yes.”

this can’t be good.

conclusion:

meanwhile, pinky is mourning their friendship! and all of the bops on the head.

“being a smarty is no fun! brain doesn’t like me.”

awww. ):

hm.

meanwhile, brain is wittering on about how “sacrifices must be made,” as he plugs himself into the machine.

“fourty seven knots, six-- nineteen kelvin, fibbonaci, n plus one, coming.” despite that, he doesn’t seem very happy to be here.

bonk.

brain runs back to their cage excitedly, to show pinky what he’s done!

and immediately falls over in the process. aww.

“pinky! look! i’m a ninny! a wooden headed dumbdumb!”

“there’s not a smart thought in my whole empty head!”

this man is having a nervous breakdown.

“narf, i say! narf to the world!”

wait, what’s that noise?

ah.

“ah! it’s good to be back. brain? brain?”

bonk.

that doorway is evidently a real problem for them. someone should probably fix it before they break their little ankles. ):

“i fixed it! i’m a nitwit!” pinky cheers. “hurrah!”

“yes. i fixed it as well, pinky. i’m as dense as a tree stump.”

“you mean--”

“yes.”

“well, we’ll just have to make you smart again, don’t we?”

“we can’t. we’re both too stupid to operate the machine.”

so instead they just sort of sit down and give up, i guess.

“what do you wanna do tonight, brain?”

“the same thing we do every night, pinky.”

“what’s that?”

“i have no idea.” says brain, in a monotone, clearly upset deadpan. “narf.”

so that’s that, i guess.

originally, i was going to give this to brain - they were both as smart as each other, and if they had worked together they probably could have taken over the world. all he had to do was take the L and let pinky advise him.

on the other hand.... pinky is emotionally intelligent enough that i think he could have had a shot at reasoning with brain about it. and if he’d tried, then he would have figured out that brain had put himself in the machine, and if brain had tried to reason through his insecurities, he would have worked out that pinky had put himself in the machine, and--

basically they get half a point again.

brain: 6 pinky: 7 outside influence: 11

because i think that’s fair.

either way, they seem to have fixed it, somehow, by the next segment. so it’s all good.

BRAINSTEM BRAINSTEM.

[the-darklings]

—𝒐𝒉, 𝒅𝒆𝒄𝒆𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒓;

pairing: quentin beck x reader

word count: 4.8k+ 

summary: “The unravelling was complete.”

notes: And here...we...go!! Beware major spoilers for far from home. Enjoy!

‘unravelling’ miniseries: | 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | . . | finale

gif credit (x)

The call came in the early hours of the morning.

Long after the team left for Berlin. 

Long after Quentin had gone with them, gaze lingering on you like he was moments away from walking back to you. 

You had refused him.  

Had taken his face in your hands and kissed him softly, mouth lingering on his till all you could feel was the warmth of his laboured breaths fanning against your swollen lips. 

“I know how much you want this opportunity,” you had murmured in the centimetres separating you, “I know you need it. This is your journey and you should honour your world by doing this. When it’s done, and you’re content, find me again and ask me then.”

His fingers sank into you, hard and greedy, and the inferno raging inside his eyes made you want to kiss him again, “Will you say yes then?”

Your smile was secretive, and you held back a cheeky grin, “Maybe.”

Quentin’s stared had focused on you intently, the fingers against the back of your neck tightening minutely. “Let me in,” his request was soft but the look in his eyes was all consuming, unyielding. “Tell me you will stay no matter what.”

He had leaned into you, arms tight around your body, and lips hovering over yours as he focused his attention solely on your mouth. Nerves twisted your stomach, a familiar bite of anticipation and adrenaline coursing through your body. 

“Are you trying to seduce me Mr Beck?” was your strangled whisper, and Quentin’s gaze moved slowly from your mouth and up towards your face. 

“Yes,” he said bluntly, making you laugh and lean into him, your nose brushing against the curve of his neck. “I thought I made that pretty clear.” 

“Eh, I don’t know,” you teased, pressing a lingering kiss against his skin and felt a shallow hiss of breath escape him at the contact. “I mean you were laying it on pretty thick earlier…”

The fingers holding the back of your neck twitched, and you felt him pull you closer, his scorching breath tickling your ear, “Oh, honey, if you think that’s laying it on thick…”

You felt heat bubble up inside your stomach at the low tilt of his voice in your ear, sly and coaxing.

Trying to regain control of your emotions, you slipped your hand inside your jeans, pulling out Quentin’s ring and showing it to him. 

“I’m going to keep this till you come and collect it,” you told him, leaning back and catching his gaze. He looked untamed; wild strands of hair brushing against his forehead, his lips red and parted, and whatever was blazing in his eyes made your stomach flip. “Come back for it when you’re an Avenger.” 

He was silent for a long minute, expression unreadable, but something lingered across his features. 

Finally, his hand had moved from your neck to lay against the side of your face, his thumb tracing your bottom lip. “I will hold you to that,” he said austere and distant. But then with a blink, his grin was back and he kissed you slowly, claiming every inch of your mouth before he pulled back, unhurried and satisfied, and slid his ring on your thumb—the only finger it fit comfortably onto. 

That had been hours ago.   

And the ringing kept persisting. There was only one problem. You knew the sound your alarm made, you knew the sound of your ringtone, and this was neither of those things. 

Your heart leapt when the realization struck you. 

Rolling from your bed, you ran for your bag, closing and opening compartments till you located the slim black device. 

It was a prototype of a phone. Designed and created by Tony himself, and a phone that hadn’t rung once since his death. 

The thing about Tony was that even though he shared his technology with the world, there were certain things he never allowed others to touch. His suits had been one of such things. But this—

“The most secure line on the planet, no one can trace it because I designed it. Duh.”

You could count on one hand the number of people that had one of these phones.

Tony had always placed his family above everything, no matter how much of a snarky bastard he might have been about his methods. 

When he had given you the phone shock had been too light of a term to express what you felt. 

“In case there’s ever a need,” he had told you with a nonchalant shrug as he placed the phone on the table in front of you. He had moved on right away, not lingering on the topic for longer than he deemed necessary. 

Yes, a need. Like looking after the people he loved most after he was gone. Tony had simply given you the means to reach them without anyone knowing it or using it against you.  

And now, for the first time, it was ringing. 

You hesitated in answering, your breaths laboured as you stared at it, some nameless dread churning in your gut. Biting on the inside of your cheek, you finally swiped the answer button, lifting the phone to your ear. 

“Hello?” you croaked out, your voice a mess of nerves and lingering exhaustion. 

“Oh, thank god! (Name)! You picked up,” exclaimed a familiar boyish voice through the receiver. “Mr Stark gave this to me ages ago and told me to only use it in an emergency or he was going to tell my aunt to ground me—anyway, (Name), I need you to listen to me. Listen. He—it was a lie, all of it, he was lying to us and I gave him—”

“Peter,” you snapped into the phone, the boy on the other end immediately falling silent. “Breathe, kiddo. Back up. Now calmly tell me what’s going on. Who is he?”

“Beck,” Peter breathed shakily, hurt and anger clear in his voice, “The Elementals, his story, it was all lies. He used projection technology and I trusted him like an idiot and gave him EDITH. Please, please, (Name), I don’t know what to do and—”

“Peter, that’s—it can’t be—” you muttered weakly, ice racing through your veins and sinking straight into your heart. Your mouth stung, the lingering taste of Quentin suddenly feeling like poison. You trusted Peter, but there was still a part of you that couldn’t believe what you were hearing. “How? What proof do you have? Why would he even lie?”

“Please, (Name), I need you to believe me,” Peter pleaded hoarsely, his voice wracked with worry. “Mr Stark—I failed him—I—”

You felt like you were going to be sick. “Where are you staying? I’ll be there as soon as I can. Speak to no one till I get there. Do you understand? Good.”

. . .

You stared at the projector in front of you with a detached expression. 

Facts and words Peter was rattling off were sinking into your brain, but you felt hollowed out to the very marrow of your bones. 

A fraud, a liar. 

It felt like someone was squeezing your heart in their fist—an aching, quivering sort of pain, you felt pathetic for feeling. 

You hadn’t known him for that long, that was true, but you had felt like what you had could have, possibly, one day been something so much more—

A liar. 

Everything you knew about Quentin Beck was a lie. 

The silky web, the beautiful spell; they were finally gone and you could see him for what he was. 

Was there anything real about him? At all? 

Did he even—

Was every word, every joke, touch and kiss you shared with him been a lie too? 

You rubbed the golden ring on your thumb almost frantically, staring at the projector in front of you with a glassy stare.

Why did it hurt?    

“I will go to Berlin alone and find Fury—”

“No,” was your immediate and stern response to that. 

Peter faltered, his expression falling, clearly mistaking your sternness for anger, “I have to fix this.”

Your eyes turned away from the projector and you moved towards the hotel window, moving one of the heavy curtains slightly to the side. It was still too early for anyone to be out and about but looks could be deceiving.

“If he has EDITH then he either already knows you know or he will soon,” you told them seriously, trying to keep the anger out of your voice and letting the curtain fall back into place. You crossed your arms over your chest, frowning in deep thought. “That means that everyone who knows about this is in danger. Which also means that we absolutely cannot go about this in a predictable way. If—since he’s done this...it means we have to plan ahead of him. We need—”

You trailed off, the finger rubbing against the ring on your hand stilling with you.

“Well?” the girl—MJ?—demanded bluntly. “What do we need?”

“He doesn’t know that I know,” you whispered, your eyes closing momentarily. Suddenly, the next course of action seemed painfully obvious. “Tony made these phones himself, they’re untraceable. We can use that. Fury may have gone under, but that the fact that I know can still be an advantage if we use it right. A distraction,” you mused pensively, your eyes fixing on Peter. 

It struck you, then—once again—just how young Peter really was. How brave yet soft-hearted. And Quentin—

Your jaw tightened, your fingers closing around the ring, tightly, violently. A part of you wanted to rip it off your finger and throw it far, far away. 

You remembered the taste of him against your tongue; the haunting, delicious warmth of his body sheltering yours while he consumed some part of you. You remembered the look in his eyes—the dark, ravenous glow in them as he scrutinized you with unbridled desire after. Like a vulture picking out his favourite prey.

Now, your mouth felt like a graveyard for everything you could have been. 

“We will give him exactly what he wants.” 

. . .

“How did he react?”

Your eyes remained fixed on the moving scenery outside your window when you answered with a plain, emotionless, “Pleased.”

Quentin wanted you in Berlin with him. 

Ringing him and telling him that you have changed your mind, that you weren’t able to sleep with the thought of him being away from you for so long, was easy. You didn’t need to fake the longing in your voice—only the image of him as he was before his lies destroyed it. 

Seems like your gut was right the whole time, whispering to you constantly that there was something about this man that was wrong, misleading. 

The low, calm timbre of his voice had flowed in your ear just like the honey he liked comparing you to so much. Except, this time, it left a bitter aftertaste in your mouth. 

A snake coiling tighter and tighter around its prey. 

A monster sinking his claws and teeth deeper and deeper. 

You had finished the call with a gentle, “I’ll see you soon, Q.”

His reply had been an equally delicate, “I’ve missed you, dearest.”   

The tears came then, hot and heavy, and you were glad that Peter was not there to see it. 

It felt embarrassing to admit just how much it hurt. How bitter this betrayal felt. 

You had liked him a lot; a lot more than you should have. And it had been so easy for him too. It had bewitched you; his care and gentleness, his story and apparent connection to you. 

A handsome man with silk for a voice and an ocean for eyes. A man who looked at you like it would be impossible for him to breathe if he wasn’t looking. 

Lies, lies, lies. 

Poisonous and ugly whispers that made you feel like an idiot. Made you feel dirty and used.  

“I’m really sorry.”

Your head turned slightly, eyes locking on Peter who sat curled up on his seat in front of you. “Why are you apologizing?”

Peter swallowed audibly, not meeting your stare and your heart ached at how tiny he appeared in his seat, worn. His face was pale and eyes blown too wide. His lips trembled and he laughed weakly, something wet twisting his vocal cords. “Cause this is my fault. If only I hadn’t given him EDITH...I failed him. Mr Stark would be so disappointed in me—”

“Don’t you dare,” you practically hissed, and immediately faltered when you saw Peter’s shoulders curl inwardly further. You exhaled forcefully, trying to calm down your temper before you reached across the tiny table and gave his trembling hand a squeeze. “Peter, look at me.”

He did. Those doe-like eyes were sad, lost, and your fingers tightened around his even further. “Tony was not a perfect man. He messed up constantly, he wasn’t always nice or easy to be around. Once upon a time, he wasn’t even that good of a person. But the one thing he always was and always will be, regardless of anything, is proud of you, kiddo. So don’t do this for him, okay? Do this for the man you will become one day soon. Do it for you. The one person Tony believed could be greater than even he was.” 

He nodded his head with a weak smile, staring at his lap, and you allowed him a moment to take in your words before tentatively pulling your hand away. Peter stared at his lap for a few minutes, silent, and it wasn’t until your eyes moved to stare at the scenery outside again, that he spoke. 

“I know you care for him,” Peter voiced suddenly, his words sad. “I saw the way you two were always looking at each other and I’m sorry. I really thought—I mean. He told me all this stuff—at the bar, about how much he likes you—”

“Peter,” you cut him off, pained. He fell silent. “We have a plan. You go to Fury. I will keep Beck occupied. We get EDITH back. Right now, that’s all that matters.”

“Okay. Yeah, you’re right.”

Your expression softened a touch, and you gave him a slight smile. “Get some sleep, kiddo. We’ll need you sharp for the job. We’re still a few hours out.”

Peter peered at you with a silent look of understanding before resting his head against the seat and closing his eyes. 

Your gaze wandered back to the window, and you touched the warm band of metal once more—unable to let go, unable to forget. 

“Hey,” Peter spoke up, his voice hushed, tired, and eyes still closed. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

Your lips parted, and you smiled at him sadly, even though he couldn’t see it. Your fingers slid away from Quentin’s ring and you simply told him, “Me too, kiddo. Me too.”  

. . .

You had a plan.

That much was true. 

For one, you always carried cash on you as was standard for any agent working on an overseas mission. Cash couldn’t be traced. You bought one ticket for yourself—just in case Quentin was watching the camera feeds—and Peter had easily managed to sneak in later after the conductor had finished his rounds. 

You couldn’t take the risk of leaving the train together, so you split up as planned. 

You went first. 

Quentin was expecting you, and even if he had eyes on Peter, he couldn’t avoid you without blowing his cover prematurely. As far as he knew, you had no clue about him. While you were no spy, or an Avenger, you had been friends with these people and have learned a thing or two atop of your standard training. 

There was no way Quentin would have known you snuck into the hotel where Peter was staying unless he had eyes inside the hotel which seemed unlikely. As far as he knew, he had won and Peter had withdrawn. 

Whatever little time you could buy Peter would be worth the danger of walking straight into the lion's den. 

You had given Peter possible locations Fury and Hill might be staying at. It was unlikely they were at the HQ yet, though you had given him the address for that too. 

For you, it was more straightforward. 

Quentin had given you the address of the hotel he was staying at. All you needed to do was get a cab. 

Keeping a keen eye on your surroundings, you scrutinized anyone and anything that might be out of the ordinary. 

The station was bustling with life but there was no one that particularly caught your eye. There was a chance he wasn’t watching you at all, or had cameras doing so through EDITH, but you weren’t about to take chances. 

The cab ride to the address you provided was spent gripping your fingers tightly into fists and chewing on the inside of your cheek. One way or another, after today, there would be no more illusions. 

You hoped Peter was alright and on his way to Fury now. If he was successful, he would ring you once. When you felt the buzz, that would be the signal that Peter was bringing the cavalry to the address you gave him.

But first. 

Holding the phone pressed to your ear, you listened to it ring without an answer. Worry started pooling in your stomach before there was a click and—

“Hi honey,” Quentin’s silky voice greeted you, and you could almost hear the smile on his face. You could certainly see it; gleaming teeth, menace and trickery. “How was the journey?”

“Fine,” you exhaled, not having to fake your exhaustion. “Long, but fine. I’m on the way now—what is that noise? Was that a train?”

A pause. “Oh? Yes, it was. Seems like you caught me,” he joked and you felt something in your stomach drop. “I got impatient waiting, so I decided to greet you at the station but your train must have come early. I know it’s stupid, don’t laugh at me,” he trailed off with a warm laugh. 

“Meet you at the hotel then?” you attempted at nonchalance, careful not to show your worry. If he was at the train station—

“I’m almost there,” he countered slyly, “Bet I can beat you there? I’m eager to see you again.”

It was difficult to control your tone when you replied with a casual, “Will you be flying? Cheater.”

His rich laugh trickled across the line and you felt your heart ache at the sound of it. 

“Scratch that, I can’t wait to see you.”

And then the line went dead.

. . .

“There you are.”

It was as painful as you expected it.

The impact of seeing him again hit like a physical blow, and you walked straight into his open arms, wrapping around him and burying your nose against his chest. Quentin chuckled, sounding impossibly pleased, and you felt his cheek against your head, breathing you in with arms like shackles around you. 

You felt it now. You could see it now.

Like a trickster god playing at being an angel, but smiling with a smile of a devil. 

You could see right into him now, and what you saw made whatever little doubt you had ebb away. 

“I’m happy you came,” he breathed into your hair, his voice so earnest it almost made you want to believe him. Almost. “It wasn’t the same without you here. Fury is not that great of a conversationist, I’ve come to find. Maybe it’s the differences between our worlds. Or maybe he’s just a bit dull. The jury’s still out on that one.”

Bingo.

You were right. He was still trying to sell you his lies. He didn’t suspect anything, or if he did, he wasn’t showing his hand just yet.

“But that,” he began purposely, his voice dipping as he pulled you back, his gaze fervent as he studied you. “Doesn’t matter right now.”

“What’s with the new clothes?” you questioned before he could say anything else, taking in his unusual, dark camo getup. “New look?”

Something flickered across his face and his mouth stretched into a lazy smile. “Training,” he indulged you, his fingers featherlight against your skin as he traced them down your neck and arm. 

His elegant digits locked around yours, rigid, and he lifted your hand, his expression immediately lightening at what he found.

He raised your hand to his mouth, kissing the golden ring delicately, a slight smirk dancing across his lips. The scratch of his stubble across your skin boiled your blood in that too familiar way but you didn’t react otherwise. 

You wondered then—with your blood roaring in your ears—why he looked so victorious. 

“Am I a replacement to you?”

Those words, you knew before he even replied, took him by surprise and it was good to see his face crease with confusion. He pulled back, still gripping your hand in his, and tilted his head with a frown.

“I don’t think I follow.”

You jerked your hand back, deciding that if he wanted to be obtuse, you were just fine with playing games too, “In your world, we were married. You must have loved me, and I died. Then you came here, and here I am. I may be different but I still look like her…”

Understanding flickered across his features and you waited with bated breath to see what he would do.

Quentin took a step back and then another. He was looking away, expression caught between sadness and hurt. “You think I’m using you?”

“I don’t know what to think anymore,” you told him honestly, and watched the way the light filtered through the hotel window, illuminating one side of his profile in light, and submerging another in the shadows of the room. “I like you, Quentin. A lot. But this—us—is a bit sudden, and I would be an idiot if I didn’t entertain the thought. Make me believe. Give me a reason to believe you, and the fact that you care for me.”

“Where did this come from, sweetheart, hm?”

And there it was. The anger, the bite of venom in his voice as he turned to slowly walk—prowl—towards the coffee table. 

“What’s my father’s name, Quentin?”

He stopped dead, glancing towards the ceiling before looking back at you, expression troubled. “You never told me,” he answered coolly, his expression carefully smoothed into something blank and distant. Removed. 

“Did you even know my father? Or was that a lie too?” you drilled him, every word angrier than the last. “Did you have fun? Toying with me the way you did. Are you even capable of genuine emotion or are you only good at faking them?”

Quentin turned to face you fully, his expression grave and eyebrows furrowed. A perfect example of a troubled victim, an innocent, being wrongfully accused. 

“I don’t understand what you’re talking about,” he shot back, frustrated, but there was no aggression in his tone or otherwise. He took a step towards you, reaching out. “Honey, what’s going—” 

He didn’t get to finish because between one breath and another, he was looking at the barrel of your gun.  

“I know, Quentin. I know.”

He shook his head in disbelief, stilling in his tracks, and an angry scoff escaped him. His burning frustration was clear to see across the planes of his handsome face, his head dipped down. He stayed like this for a moment, his features obscured from your hard gaze. 

The rigid line of his shoulders suddenly loosened, and a slight chuckle echoed from him. 

Your heart twisted when you saw how the slow, blooming cold smile curved his mouth into something sharp, dangerous. He extended his hands like a showman about to take a bow after a great performance, lifting his head and meeting your stare with a playful, sly grin.

“Oops,” he hummed cheerfully, his voice icy, “Seems like the cat’s out of the bag, honey.” 

“You son of a bitch.”

Quentin sniggered like a kid, teeth gleaming, but this time the sharpness was on full display—like a blade being unsheathed. “Tsk, tsk, such language. Lower that thing, honey, we both know you’re not going to shoot me.”

“Oh, I won’t be so sure,” you replied, your voice full of sharp bitterness, and you hated the slight quiver of pain you heard despite it. “I’m very tempted right now.”

“No, you’re not,” he stressed, bored, and a touch annoyed. “Wanna know why? Cause I already won. See, getting inside peoples’ heads? Easy. And I mean pathetically easy. Just look at how you all lapped up that ridiculous story about different dimensions. But to get inside there,” he stressed, pointing his index finger at your chest, making your heartbeat flutter from the fervid stare he was giving you. Like he could somehow see right into the heart of you. “That, dearest, is the ultimate price. And I have it. It’s mine.”

“Go fuck yourself,” you spat back, and immediately reminded yourself that you could not lose your head. That he was doing this on purpose, and that his gloating, arrogant expression was for the sole purpose of getting you to mess up. “You don’t have anything, and you never will.”

He rolled his eyes, forcing a loud breath through his clenched teeth, “Well, I would much rather you joined in on any future, hmm, activities. But again, wrong. You know what though? You look so adorable when you’re angry, I think I’ll always forgive it. And look, I get it—I do. I lied, blah blah, that’s so mean, but we have to move past this.”

“You tricked me, you manipulated my feelings,” you hissed instead, your grip on the gun tightening, “I don’t even know you. Everything about you was a lie, and I hate you for it.”

That made his smug smile falter, the corners of his mouth turning downwards before he seemed to regain his senses. A blink and his playful expression was replaced with something serious, drilling and…

“No you don’t,” was his faint whisper. “You don’t. You’ll see.”

It was your turn to grin at him mockingly, “Yeah, I do. And soon this entire building will be swarmed by SHIELD agents and you will never see the light of day again.”  

He blinked at you slowly before laughing loudly, seemingly enraptured. “Ah, yes. Almost forgot about this. You know, I’ll be honest. I was very pleasantly surprised. I decided to play along and see what you would do and you were...spectacular. I mean simply exceptional, until you got angry, that is.”

Your confidence started chipping piece by piece, raw fear filling your veins as you listened to him talk.

“It was a smart plan, I give you that. I had no idea,” Quentin explained, his tone full of delight as he started moving steadily in your direction. “That is until the kid blabbed, of course.”

You felt your heart stutter in your chest. 

“Where is he?” you breathed, terrified. “Where is he, Quentin?”

He looked at you almost sadly, “I’m sorry. But you must understand—”

He didn’t get to finish.

Because the bang of the trigger being pulled sliced through the room like thunder. 

Except instead of collapsing in pain from his injury, Quentin burst into too familiar green vapour.

“Aww, you aimed for the leg,” his voice echoed all around you, the sunny hotel room melting away. “See, you do care.” 

“No,” you mouthed in terror, your eyes trying to locate an escape but as far as you could see there was nothing but darkness. “This isn’t real.”

“Of course not,” Quentin chided playfully, stepping out of the darkness, now clad in his Mysterio costume. “I don’t want to hurt you, (Name). And I could—it would be easy. I don’t want you to fight me either. I may have lied to you, that’s true. And I’m sorry I had to. I really am. But we both know you have a place with me. You want to be loved, that’s why you accepted me. I’m a good liar but not that good. And I can love you. Stand with me.”

You tried to grasp onto your gun again, only to find your hand empty. “What did you do to Peter?”

He approached you slowly—like one would a wounded animal—and touched your cheek tenderly. The grief already clawing up your throat stopped you from snapping his hand in half. If he was even real. 

“He’s dead.”

You shook your head, tears burning in your eyes, “No, no, you’re lying. Stop it, please, he can’t—this isn’t real, he’s not—he’s not—”

“I’m sorry.”

Your lips parted to scream—

Darkness. 

. . .

The spoils of war go to the victor.

And you were in his arms before you could hit the ground. 

It felt good to have you back, safe and protected. Beautiful.

He wished the circumstances were better but it was always going to end like this. From an obstacle, to curiosity to…

Hmmm.

Well, you have become something important, something vital. Annoyingly, insufferably so. 

The unravelling was complete. 

Destruction?

Mutual. 

. . .

an: WELL THEN...let me know how you guys found it :D just the finale to go ahhhhhh. Thank you so much for all the support <33

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[star-spangled-steve]

His New Partner

Chapter 30: The Best Uncle

Series Masterlist

Previous Chapter

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Words: 1964

Warnings: Angst, pregnancy, cussing, light fluff.

A/N: This did not turn out as good I wanted it to be, but it still gets the point across. Oh, and also, don’t let the GIF deceive you. This is obviously still a Steve fic!

“Y/N?” Tony called out as he opened the door to her bedroom, which he had to override the locking system to get into. It wasn’t something that he took pride in doing, but she hadn’t left her room in over 48 hours, and he knew that she wouldn’t unlock it on her own.

The whole team, or at least what was left of it, was extremely worried about her. Sure, Steve, Natasha, Sam, and Wanda leaving meant something to everybody. But for Y/N to loose her husband was an especially big deal.

“Y/N?” The man called again, not being able to see anything in the pitch black of her room. All of the lights were off and all of the blinds were shut, despite it only being 6:00 in the evening. “N/N?”

An audible groan came from the middle of the space, making Tony realize that she was on her bed. He turned on the flashlight from his electronic watch, courtesy of his very own Stark technology, and made his way towards her bedside table, switching on the lamp.

“Turn it off.” The girl whined, rolling around to face away from him and burying herself deeper under the covers. She was still wearing the same clothes that he had found her in two days before, when he gave her the letter and essentially broke her heart. “Go away.” The man heard a small sniffle. “Please, just go.”

“N/N,” Tony spoke while still hovering over her bed awkwardly, “we really should talk about this. I know how much it hurts, but you can’t stay in here forever.”

She shook her head, just clinging harder onto the pillow that she was holding in her arms. Steve’s pillow. “P-Please go.”

The man finally realized that she was crying, instantly making him wonder if she had been doing so for the full 48 hours. “We have to talk about this, Y/N.” He sat down on the edge of her bed.

“I don’t ‘wanna.” She said while wiping her eyes, finally turning around to face him. It wasn’t hard to see the guilt painted on Tony’s face, and she now felt just as bad. Y/N knew that her husband leaving wasn’t Tony’s fault; Steve was plenty old enough to make his own choices.

“I’m so sorry, sweetie.” The man gave her the biggest smile he could muster at the moment. “I know that my apology won’t bring him back, but I just wanted you to know that I truly am sorry.”

The girl shook her head. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” She inhaled a shaky breath and absentmindedly rested her hands on her still flat stomach, a small habit that she had developed over the last couple days. “Maybe if I had-”

“Hey, hey, hey, N/N.” Tony sternly interrupted. “This is in no way your fault.”

She slowly began to sob again, the topic being too hard for her to bear. “I-I-I’m just...” she sniffled, “I’m just so sad. A-And I want to be angry. I don’t want to be bawling my eyes out, I want to be cursing his name. B-But I can’t, Tony, I can’t.” The girl hid her face behind her hands, too embarrassed to be seen by anybody. “Because all I do is miss him. Oh god, I just miss him so bad, Tony.”

The man hadn’t even noticed that he started to tear up as well, just the sound of her devastated voice making him feel so horrible. “I’m sorry, N/N. Incredibly sorry. But I don’t know what to do. How can I help? Just tell me, hon.”

She sniffled. “Well, there is one thing you can do.”

“What is it?” Tony’s face immediately lit up, happy that he could help her in any way.

“Grab me a Kleenex?”

The man let out a small chuckle before leaning over to her nightstand, grabbing a couple of tissues and handing them to her. Y/N sat up to lean against her headboard as she dried her eyes and cheeks.

“Thanks.” She gave him a small smile.

The pair became quiet, the only sound in the room being the girl’s laboured breaths from all of the previous crying.

“I-I’m scared, Tony.” She breathed out after a minute’s time, now beginning to play with the tissues in her hands out of nervousness. “I’m really, really scared.”

“Of what, N/N?”

“W-What if he never comes back?” She spoke, meeting his eyes with a sad gaze. “A-And I know that he hurt you, so I don’t know, maybe you don’t even want him to come back, but I really need him here.”

Tony shook his head. “Yes, he hurt me. But I do care about you, and I hate that you have to feel like this.”

Y/N nodded, feeling grateful to have such an amazing friend. She knew that he deserved to know the full story of what was going on with her, but was just a bit too scared to say. What would he think? Would he be excited? Would he become more stressed? Would he think of her as nothing but a burden? All of these thoughts ran through the girl’s mind, before she ultimately decided to just go for it.

“I have to tell you something.” She blurted out, feeling more tears threatening to fall. Damn hormones. “I-I... oh, goodness.”

“What is it?” Tony questioned. “You can tell me.”

“I know, it’s just-”

“I’ve walked in on you on the toilet, N/N.” The man added, hoping to lighten the mood. “It can’t get anymore embarrassing than that.”

Y/N quietly giggled, sniffling right afterwards. She felt him grab her hand in support, finally feeling secure enough to let out her big secret. “I’m pregnant, Tony.”

She saw his eyebrows furrow and head shake back and forth in denial. “What?”

“I’m pregnant.” She stated again while using a more confident tone of voice, greatly contrasting how she felt on the inside. “I found out two days ago, only several hours before you handed me that letter.”

“I-” He was at a loss for words. “Oh my god, Y/N.”

“Just great, right?” She said sarcastically, looking up at the ceiling to keep the tears inside her eyes instead of falling down her face. “My husband and I have been trying to start a family for months, and when we finally do, he leaves.”

“Here.” Tony spoke while passing her the whole tissue box. He saw her wipe her eyes once again, feeling his heart clench at the sad sight. Poor Y/N.

“And it’s not like he knew, obviously.” The girl continued on. “It’s just, fuck, the first time we ever discussed these accords together, he told me he’d stop working for a little while if I got pregnant. If I had just known a little bit sooner-”

“Don’t dwell, Y/N.” The man cut her off, still in complete shock. “It’ll just make things worse.”

She scoffed. “As if things can get worse.”

Tony rubbed her arm soothingly, looking into her glistening E/C eyes. He didn’t want to sound rude, but the question just tugged at his mind. “Are you going to keep it?” He watched her quirk her head to the side in confusion. “You know, the baby? There’s always adoption, or-”

“I want to have the baby.” Y/N told him. “I want to keep the baby.” She shook her head slowly, bringing her hands to her middle once again. “I already love him or her so much.”

Tony slightly smiled, stretching out an arm for her. “Come here.”

The girl took this as a clue for her to cuddle in, and she did exactly so, wrapping her own arm around his waist as they sat on the edge of her bed.

For one of the first times in their whole friendship, the man wasn’t making any jokes. He wasn’t poking fun, saying sarcastic or witty comments. He was just being there for her; hugging her, holding her. Y/N had never before felt more gratitude towards him than in that very moment.

“I don’t want you to worry, sweet pea. You have a living being in you, that’s stressful enough as it is.”

She sighed and briefly closed her watery eyes. “I-It’s just so hard, Tony. I just miss him, and it’s his child too.”

“I know, honey, I know.” The man nodded, running his hand up and down her back, before he came upon a realization. “There, uh, there might be a way for us to contact him.”

“Huh?” Y/N’s ears suddenly perked up. “What do you mean?”

“Well, he gave us his new number in case we need anything.” Tony explained. “He programmed into an old flip one, that way any calls can’t be traced back to us directly.” He heard her puff out a breath, clearly surprised at this new information. “We can call if you wa-”

“No.”

The man was taken aback at her quick response, honestly expecting to hear the opposite answer. “‘No?’”

“Exactly. ’No’. He clearly has better things to do than talking to me.” Y/N stated quite resentfully.

“N/N, you know that’s not true. He loves you more than anythi-”

“Really?” She spoke shakily. “Because last time I checked, men who love their wives don’t leave their wives.”

“Y/N-”

“Look, Tony, I’m not debating on this with you, or anyone for that matter.” She lifted anther tissue to her eyes, dabbing lightly at the now red skin. “He made a choice. I’m not to going to sit at the phone and beg for him to return. Do I think that he would come back if I told him about the baby? Yes. But I don’t want him to resent me, or even his son or daughter for getting in the way of whatever was so important. Steve can decide for himself whether or not I’m important enough for him to return. If the only reason he comes back is for feeling guilty the baby, who’s to say what he’d actually rather be doing.”

Tony just nodded, not wanting to argue with the clearly very emotional woman. Everybody knew that Steve would rather be with Y/N than anywhere else, but she was probably just too distraught to see it right now. “Well, don’t worry about doing this on your own. Okay? You’ll always have me, and you’ll always have the rest of our team too.”

She smiled, genuinely smiled for the first time in a couple of days. “Thank you, Tony.”

“No problem.” He grinned back. “Now come on,” Tony spoke, rubbing a comforting hand on her shoulder, “I was about to make dinner.”

“You?” Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Sorry, but I’m already having enough trouble keeping things down.”

The man sighed. “Okay, fine. I’ll order us dinner.” He shook his head with a small chuckle. “I see your attitude is still in place, though.”

“Sorry.” She shrugged sheepishly while Tony just brushed it off.

“I was kidding. You’re pregnant, so, uh, be as mean as you want.” He watched as Y/N giggled before standing himself up, offering her his hand to get off the bed as well. “Now, it’s been way too long since you’ve had a good meal; judging from all those candy bar wrappers, anyway. So come on, you’re eating for two now. You have to stay healthy and stro-”

Tony was suddenly cut off by a big hug, which he instantly sank into. He ran his hands up and down the girls back, feeling her gradually calm down in his embrace.

“Thank you.” She quietly spoke against his shoulder, giving his torso another squeeze filled with gratitude. Y/N took a deep breath, feeling safe and secure inside of his arms, and finally having the hope that things will all work out okay. “You’re going to be just the best uncle.”

Next Chapter

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[the-necessary-unnecessary]

Summary of RFEF’s Conference about the imminent strike and the rights of Spain’s female players- Part 1

So let me set the scene, it’s the 6th of November 2019, we are in the installations of the Spanish Football Federation in Las Rozas, Madrid. We have just been part of a ceremony celebrating the history of women’s football in Spain under the slogan Somos Por Vosotras (We Are Because of/For You). We cut and we’ve moved to a conference and the mood is suddenly tense and sombre, as if the devil himself was in the room- which he might actually be. 

Let me introduce to you the different parties in attendance. Taking up most of the room and sitting at the back (because of course the women may be in the majority and whose lives are being discussed but it’s the men people in suits who hold the power and say) are the players of the Spanish women’s national team, there today on behalf of all of their Primera Iberdrola colleagues. In the front rows we have representatives of the individual clubs and then the three main players, the three who form this love triangle that has got everyone into this mess.

There is the AFE, the trade union that represents all Spanish footballers. They are the ones fighting for the players’ rights, not settling for less and pushing the strike forward (I presume). Then their mortal enemy its in front, RFEF’s stream makes sure to catch him on his phone not paying attention during much of their presentation, the ACFF. They stand for the association for female football clubs, the ones with the interests of the big people in mind, the ones who have given out the TV rights, the group that all clubs are a part of apart from fcb, tacon and athletic de bilbao. And then leading the whole thing is the RFEF, Spain’s Football Federation and governing body for the Sport.

Now the mystery truly commences: which of these parties are telling the truth when they plead their innocence and say how much they’re doing to better women’s football, and which is that reincarnated devil I mentioned at the beginning?

Given that it’s the RFEF who has called the meeting, they take centre stage first. In fact, they’ve decided that to show how on top of things they are they’ve prepared a presentation and everything (10 points for the effort). 

They start off by stating how they’ve been shunned and not included in most of the negotiations, they are so grudging that they have all the dates of when they weren’t listened to neatly lined up like a toddler who’s telling his mum all the exact times she hasn’t let him watch TV. Jokes aside though, it quite clearly explains the chronology of how things have gone about evolving up until having reached this point. Even before what’s shown on the screen they proposed certain initiatives to make sure the sport kept developing but the clubs weren’t willing to listen to their ideas as they were told that they could only talk with the ACFF or they wouldn’t go to the committee. Then on the 25th of February the ACFF openend up a bidding for TV licenses that was to last only 9 days. Not only were the RFEF surprised that they were doing this, they also thought that it was too short a time period to do the tender in. So the next day they release a statement saying that the ACFF hasn’t complied with the official regulations on how a club should sell TV rights.

On the 4th of March the National Committee of Female Football (it’s part of the RFEF so i’d just treat it as such) makes public the changes that they wanted to make to improve the status of women’s football in the country: the organisation of the two elite leagues, the set out of the competitions, number of players etc. The two most important points they made were the professionalisation the elite leagues should go about and the establishment of salary levels along with how much money the RFEF was willing to give.

However, the big bad wolf comes along and blows all this wonderful work away only 3 days later when the 9 days for bidding was up and even before midnight the ACFF had announced that TV rights had been given to MediaPro. At this point Rubiales got really stuck on the before midnight part, seems like he didn’t get his Cinderella ending as they announced it at midday rather than at midnight as the official regulations dictate. What’s more, they didn’t actually send out a letter personally telling them about this until the next day(you know a friendship’s breaking when you first hear about gossip from people outside of your group of friends…). So as retaliation the RFEF sends out an angry message to all the clubs who had signed the agreement telling them they were in trouble for not adhering to the assigned rules but not being able to do much more.

So basically the point they were trying to put across with this slide was that they had already offered, before the rights were signed away by the ACFF, certain economic rights and conditions for the players that the RFEF considered very reasonable and better than what is on the table now. More like a ha you should have listened to us (probably rightly so) rather than anything else. 

Slide 2, things that happened leading up to this point: Back to the bold man who speaks more to make up for his lack of her (okay that was mean sorry I’ll stop). He talks about how the RFEF offered both AFE and ACFF a tripartite collective agreement where a better salary, betterments for clubs and basic labour conditions were guaranteed. He drew a lot of focus to image rights and from what I understood they don’t actually have rights to their own image at the moment?? only national team players do?? that’s just the icing on the cake for me. And so this is what was offered on the 13th of May, guaranteeing a 18,000 euro salary as a requirement for all teams who want to continue playing in the league if the agreement was signed. But, what a surprise, the other associations didn’t even approach them which lead to the “failure of negotiations” after which point they claim they were completely excluded. Rubiales took the opportunity to practically martyrise himself here saying how it was them who were taken on all the risks by this agreement and it was only the players who would benefit from it.

Now we get into the really technical stuff, because yeah so far it’s been a piece of cake I know, so buckle up. The ACFF, basically the individual clubs, believe they can only take on a salary of 16,000 euros a year at a 50% partiality rate which is basically a fancy way of offering a 8,000 euro salary. The AFE, the trade union, asks for 16,000 at a 75% partiality rate which is 12,000 euros a year and still below the minimum professional salary in Spain

—> just a note here that later on the representative of the AFE said that they are never going to negotiate below the minimum interprofessional wage which is just above 12,000 and neither will the Government’s Ministry of Labour who they have now taken this case to (I know, apparently the government’s involved now too but this is the first I hear about it)

So RFEF come riding in in shining armour with this solution saying that they’re willing to pay the difference between what the ACFF is willing to pay and what the AFE wants the salary to be. They also say that they would increase the minimum number of professional licenses from its current state of 12 to 18. Honestly it’s ludicrous that they haven’t done this before as a club needs 18 players on their squad to compete full stop. So yes, 2,000 euros for 18 players in 16 clubs would amount to 1,152,000 euros that they are willing to invest here so that all players are guaranteed what the union is asking for.

—> again the AFE calls them out later on saying that the real sum of money would be closer to 1.6 million as there are more than 18 players per squad and other contextual factors also need to be taken into consideration.

Final slide (wooo!) of all the factors which must be kept in consideration. The first is what’s going on with TV rights at the moment where many matches can’t be televised. He says that it’s necessary to come to an agreement so that all matches can be streamed by the company that is contracted by the team. They promise to not block any televisations and reiterate the fact about ten times that it wasn’t them who has impede certain matches being shown so far but rather legal issues and petitions by external factors. Did I mention that it isn’t RFEF’s fault? Oh and by the way it’s not because of RFEF that this is happening. 

Rights: commercial rights and advertising supports must be a fundamental part of the agreement like they used to be. Apparently back in the day when people didn’t care as much about women’s football and paid little attention to what was going on (aka a year ago) there was a common fund shared between all clubs for image rights. On the 13th May, they proposed a deal giving 2,000 to each player for there rights but, once again, they didn’t come to an agreement.

Compromise: they agree to respect all clubs having their individual affiliations with whichever organisation they have contracts with at the moment. Basically clubs that aren’t with the RFEF at the moment can continue with their current contracts without being penalised by them if an agreement is reached. If it is signed they will guarantee their current rights, however they then gave the ultimatum that after these expire in 3 (from what I gathered) years time then everyone will have to proceed all together to truly get that 18,000 euro salary and 2,000 extra image rights.

And that was about all the waffle I could handle to be honest which, thankfully enough, coincided with the end of his neither first nor last monologue of the day. He wrapped up by saying how he’s pleased to see so many players nodding their heads along in agreement and I did see the likes of Marta Corredera nodding so I guess we can give him some rights if my new futfem hero agreed. He did say something quite formidable though nearing the end stating that the agreement will only work if the clubs stop boycotting matches and respecting the rights Iberdrola has as their main sponsor, he literally said that we won’t invest in you guys if we know they don’t have faith in you. A final positive rounded up his speech hoping that the trade union would now be happy with what they have outlined above, bridging the gap that had formed between the two and that hopefully the clubs will soon release a statement also agreeing to comply with these basic demands. Idealistic? For sure, but worth a shot anyways.

that’s all I have time for tonight guys, if any of you are still around here then I’m very impressed. I might be back for a part 2 if I see enough demand for it, but honestly this just took up a good four hours of my life and I’m glad I did it but I’m now exhausted. So if you did actually find this useful/coherent/interesting then I’ll be more than happy to continue breaking down the rest of the conference, if not I’ll leave it here :)

[justlurkingintheshadows]

@nutsandvoltsweek Sorry if this is bad I'm not a writer as much as I'm not an artist, I at least have some more experience with writing though, I know it's not perfect but oh well. I also know it's technically late for my timezone but it's still gonna be the 10th February somewhere.

This is my attempt at a role reversal Nuts and Volts for day 2

Humanity and Ferality

Word count : 2,150

Content tags : Role-reversal, Scientist!Tyrian, Feral!Watts, blood, implied cannibalism, implied self-mutilation/experimentation 

-----------

It wasn't exactly unheard of, the story of the Atlesian who went mad and lost his mind, in his unhinged rage it's said he brought down an entire lab and then disappeared, presumed dead, but now Tyrian knew the truth. Before him stood a ragged man, truly disgraced, soaked in blood that had previously resided inside the team Tyrian had gone with to an unusual site where people complained of moving shadows and nose curdling smells that kept even the Grimm at bay.

It was clear the heaving form wanted to finish off the last one and drag him too away to wherever he had stowed the other bodies, the only evidence that someone had been there being the blood splattered around after a vicious attack, Tyrian wasn't about to let him but he was curious, he supposed the poor guy had to have survived off something all this time, the thought would have made him shudder had he even cared at all. He simply watched the man carefully, neither daring to move, their foe was unpredictable yet somehow they had each other figured out - as long as they stood there like that no one was going to do anything, it was a stalemate of two men frozen purely to wonder if either was going to move first which they knew wasn't actually going to happen.

"Well, this is certainly something I never expected..." said Tyrian in a careful tone hoping his sudden speech didn't kickstart a sudden death, the figure flinched a bit, not used to his victims having any other vocal capability than a scream of terror. Though vision wasn't clear Tyrian was certain of something, it just made sense to him somehow, "Arthur Watts. The illusive one man catastrophe, thought to be dead, but of course that's only because no living soul has actually had chance to escape and tell anyone." The figure flinched again, it was more of a twitch, and Tyrian almost found it amusing, this man was more feral than a Sabyr, more animal than human, he wasn't even a faunus but simply a man who had nothing to lose. It was an ironic comparison to Tyrian's own self. Doctor Tyrian Callows, the scorpion faunus who managed to hide his feature his whole life and aid Atlas in great science feats becoming one of their most trusted with barely any challenge, he was almost more human now, it was hard not to follow their ideologies even if they involved the theory that Faunus were lesser and only useful for labour tasks which the humans were too good for, at one point Tyrian almost found himself hating his own kind because of how truly the humans believed they were in the right, they always thought they were right, and he had loved to prove them wrong. They could try to take everything from him yet he would still have the knowledge he'd come to accumulate and with that knowledge he'd almost brought their empire crumbling down as easily as a flick of a tail, that's what caught the attention of a certain goddess, she'd known he was perfect for the job and must have realised he actually barely needed her as he'd almost achieved what she intended solo, yet she still offered him a place and picked him up off cold bleak streets to give his terrifying, sly and genius mind a sturdy platform from where he could orchestrate a new wave of armageddon; His goddess had sent him on this mission with a group of, what Tyrian could only describe as, thugs (Tyrian thought very little of them and so their fates weighed insignificant in his mind), but he had to admit the ease at which this husk had dispatched them was impressive and showed really the potential danger he should find himself in.

It was perhaps not an insignificant detail to note that had Tyrian not just so happened to turn around at that exact moment the deranged creature would have been upon him hacking away at his aura with all the brutality and speed of a Beowolf, it was quite surprising that anyone could be so far gone that even the Grimm have no desire to come near, Tyrian himself had witnessed the creatures circling the area intending to prey on the mindless drones of a team Tyrian had with him, at first he'd thought they were responsible for the company gradually dwindling but he never once saw them dare to close the distance, they always stayed out there, away, and one could only wonder why. Now it made sense. One by one his lackeys disappeared and there was barely noise of a struggle, perhaps a new type of Grimm was a thought at first but there was never any evidence to back up the claim, it wasn't obvious to assume there was something or someone else lurking around picking them off one by one, leaving the best for last or perhaps just because Tyrian refused to be slowed down and so was at the lead of the group and it wasn't so easy to grab him, especially since he came most prepared for an encounter of any kind as Tyrian always calculated it was more worth it to over-prepare than to be left in a situation with no ability to get out.

He began to wonder if this new monster could even speak lest his humanity have slipped away altogether, but that was soon answered for him. The demented fellow had been watching this odd stranger in his territory, seemingly frustrated by the fact he'd been seen before it was too late, like an ambush predator once he was spotted he didn't quite know what to do, he'd been spending all these lonely crumbling years attempting to hone his skills to cause as swift an aura break and kill as possible, it hadn't been easy and he'd suffered a lot but he was sure he was better than this and it angered him that this invading doctor had simply turned around and halted his entire strike. He had to at least be thankful that the poor lighting and obscured distance still offered some veil, he was not the 'man' this pest had identified him as any longer, he left that behind long ago.

The voice that came from the sketchy silhouette wasn't clear, but it also didn't completely lack all intelligence, he was aware of that. "I intend to keep myself invisible to anyone who it matters to" came the sound, a bit scratchy and with a little wavering in tone almost to display the insanity, Tyrian had to admit it surprised him to hear sound come from such a thing but he smiled, and, perhaps acting a little too cocky for his own good, made the decision to move towards the crazed mess in an attempt to get a better look, this caused an almost growled "Back off" in response, the tone was chilling but Tyrian couldn't help being thrilled by it, messed up things was what he loved even if it was uncivil of him he couldn't ignore his true natural desire for such.

"You don't have to live like this anymore you know, I have a way to help you if you would accept it. Figures from your past don't even have to be aware of it, unless of course you wanted them to be" offered Tyrian, still keeping his tone careful, he would like to have this mission end well and not with any significant death, he wanted to please his Goddess. He was regarded by cold green eyes that clearly wished to inflict the most painful of harm on him.

"You dare to offer me anything, I have nothing valuable to you, how dare you come here and expect me to comply simply because you asked!" The voice was still broken from disuse, it still brought amusement and intrigue to the curious doctor,

"I didn't expect anything, until a few moments ago I was completely unaware of your existence-"

"And I would like to go back to that" interrupted the corrupt tone, Tyrian ignored him,

"Yet while I find it most fascinating at your sheer ability to eradicate your immediate enemy I find it hard to believe you wouldn't want to exact revenge on the very society that cast you out, what's a few 'immoral' experiments when you're clearly capable of more right? They didn't want you so you tried to destroy them, but you didn't succeed completely. You probably are aware that I think you might be-"

"Helpful to you? Easy to use? Manipulate? Control?!" This was more than a growl, this was a snarl, it caught Tyrian off guard and actually made him jump, it was becoming increasingly obvious that talking simply wasn't going to be enough,

"What would it take for you to find some way to trust me?" Asked the curious scorp almost softly, itching with anticipation of an answer. It took a while for his opponent to respond, it wasn't clear if it was because of outrage or simply no idea of how to react.

"I… to trust you?" Came an unsure sound, "Why would I want to trust you? Why would you want me to trust you? Trust requires closeness and closeness ultimately ends in parting."

Tyrian smiled again, "You're something else, something unique, if even the Grimm fear you just imagine what chaos you could cause with the proper footing to launch yourself from, we're not all that different you and I, while at the same time we're complete opposites. I know of somewhere there'd be a place for you, you'd have to leave this behind of course but you'd be rewarded in time with the exact opportunity your seething twisted soul desires" he could see this was perhaps sounding worthwhile. The reply didn't take long.

"I am not the man I was, I'm not sure if I'm much of a man at all… but you seem to believe I'm useful to you… how so?" The question was unsure almost cautious, it made Tyrian think there wasn't as little humanity left as they both thought, but he was all too happy to answer;

"I'm glad you asked, you see I work for a force this world will never be able to defeat and she only grows stronger with the aid of people like me, and perhaps even more so with you." He was always ready to jump at the chance to mention his Goddess, but took the opportunity to mention his own story, his own achievements, most particularly the ones under Salem's guidance, he exclaimed much glee at recalling events, he especially made sure to add in a little bit of how perhaps the addition of someone like the distorted disgraced ex-doctor Arthur Watts could possibly have influenced the outcome and made it so much easier, he mentioned the research he'd done on him and how he'd lamented at the belief the once great man was now apart from this world in attempt to play right into how he once thought of himself as an esteemed innovator. It seemed to work like a charm, not surprising, if Tyrian Callows knew anything it was how to use a person's own self against them for better or for worse. Eventually the newly revitalised man that was once a husk seemed to smile and said with as much attempt at contentment as his shattered voice could offer,

"Perhaps you are right" and that answer made Tyrian grin, but he continued "however I still feel like I am better off staying lost in the shadows of ruins, I would recommend you just leave" he seemed downheartned at having to say it and Tyrian simply had to ask,

"I cannot allow you to simply stay here, perhaps you could do me a favour" he had a glint in his eye which was observed by Arthur, who seemed perhaps a little uncomfortable and didn't want to ask what favour deciding it be best not to know. That didn't stop Tyrian from asking anyway. "Please step into light, so I may see you properly"

Arthur scoffed "So you can see what's become of me?"

Tyrian simply answered, gently, with a "Yes"

It appeared this was not the expected response. However unable to provide much more of an argument Arthur reluctantly, slowly, carefully, and in every way cautiously, moved closer. As soon as his body was bathed in light Tyrian caught himself being captivated, in awe.

The oddly shaped outline he'd been looking at this whole time was much more distinguished now. He was able to make out all the foreign non-human devices. The recognizable form of a man who in his own despair attempted to make himself into something else. He wasn't just less human in nature, but also in appearance. And Tyrian found it beautiful.

[becausenoothernameisavailable]

The colour of your skin.

A/n : Week 6 Day 6 Prompt:Sci Fi AU.

This fic ran away from me.

Pairing: Jogan

Marketed as the next best thing to have happened to the human race the Wright humanoids were programmed to serve amongst a whole list of other duties. They were formed to be a major part of the workforce so that that the humans could be freed to do more important stuff such make laws and decisions. Though this was not always the scenario and the majority of the humanoids ended up as toys.

Available in the basic body morph of lean, tall, clear skin and a readily available smile, they could be programmed to suit any field and modified as per necessary requirement and more than often they kept getting request to make the droids more aesthetically pleasing with enhanced genitalia.

Wright Industries was forever in clashes in with the various Human Rights Agencies on the portrayal of service humanoids in the market. Sentient beings with an ability to speak, process, voice opinions and feel, to an extent, the various agencies felt that they should be given the basic dignity and human rights as they were more than just toys or ready labour and Logan wholeheartedly agreed with the same.

His own mother figure was a humanoid herself, his father’s favourite, the first and only of her kind and she looked after him when his own human mother left them.

He was forever in clashes with his father regarding the marketing of the service humanoids. Surely he could understand the need for laws to prevent humanoid abuse, he did love Michelle after all, Logan was sure of it. Hence he couldn’t understand why the Senator couldn’t understand him.

“No.” Logan scratched out yet another request, “Because it’s not right.”

“They’re not human.” his father yelled loudly and Logan glared at him. “They’re more human than you.”

The new line though, the J Series was definitely not human or well too human Logan frowned. Well, it was actually just one model, the new prototype, the first of its kind nicknamed J. Logan was working closely with the technical team and the production team and the new prototype was frustrating all of them.

Clearly, it worked fine. He worked fine. He had usage of all his limbs, emotions, speech, thought process, could assess the situation and provide input and then there were things he was not programmed to do. And he did all of that too. Provided comments on the situation that was not inputted, recharged himself when he felt that he needed to, had opinions on everything and was very vocal about it and currently he was hating Logan’s tie.

Logan threw his hands up in the air and glanced at his head of production. “Don’t look at me,” Derek mumbled where he was busy comparing schematics from the J series. “Jules,” Derek sighed, “What did you now.”

“Jules,” Logan asked in askance, When did that happen.

“It’s what he wants to be called.” Derek frowned and handed Logan the fresh reports of the day. “Take a look at the readings. They are good. Too good.” They both looked at the J Series prototype who was grumpily looking at them from the couch, arms akimbo, dressed in the standard humanoid uniform of full grey.

“Does this mean it’s ready for manufacturing?” Logan asked as he studied the figures and schematics on the console and at the humanoid frowning at them.

“I am right here.” Jules said from the couch, “Stop talking as if I am not here.” He got up from the couch and walked up to Logan and kissed him on the cheek.

“Yeah, that’s a new development today.” Derek groaned and pointed to the console in Logan’s hand, fingers skimming across the screen as he pulled up his observation. “See, he hugged me today in the morning and then he handed me his schematics and proceeded to discuss it with me.”

They both turned to look at Jules who was now hanging on to the both of them, one arm around Derek’s shoulder and the other around Logan’s waist. “What.” Jules asked the two of them, “And while we are still talking about me when are we getting me some clothes.”

*

“I see the new prototype is working fine.” His dad asked during one of their bi-weekly lunches which was more of an unofficial progress report than a father-son lunch. Logan groaned, of course, he would have received Derek’s status reports, as head of production he needed to send the weekly reports to the Top Management which included Logan, his dad, the board of directors and certain key investors.

Logan nodded, “We just need to cross-check a few details but yes, the J series is ready for manufacturing.”

“And the paperwork and licenses.”

“All in place, we have drawn up the patents and claims, everything is ready to go.”

“Good.” His father nodded.

The J series was hit in the market with its high capabilities and reasoning and with the right pricing and marketing Logan ensured that the entire line was placed in roles where they could contribute to the workforce and be involved, not just as mere toys. Months later he was still getting positive feedback on the performance and the quality and demand for the same grew as almost everyone was asking about the J Series and its capabilities. And to think that the line grew and flourished because of Jules and his input on the same.

Logan was forever grateful to Jules who happily threw himself into Logan’s arms when the last of humanoid passed inspection. “I suppose we will be soon dispatched,” Jules said sadly as he helped Derek and him switch off the main control panel and the feedback station that monitored the humanoid activity.

“Yes, soon,” Logan said distractedly looking Jules. He was so different compared to the rest of them. His speech and level of cognitive function still amazed him.

“I am going to miss you,” Jules said sadly and wrapped himself up in Logan’s arms and kissed him on the cheeks and Logan froze. Oh, this cant do.

*

“I see that we need to start manufacturing the second batch of the J Series.“ his dad asked him a few months later.

“Yes,” Logan nodded “We have already started the process. The production was not stopped only slowed down. I would be meeting Derek later today.”

“Good, good.” His father nodded, “I have also noticed that the original prototype is not yet sold, any reason for that.” and this was what Logan was afraid of.  He thought he could distract his father with the high sales figures and forecasted values but his dad, typically, found the one thing he was afraid of.

He took a deep breath and prepared his reply. Jules and he had practised in the morning what he could say to convince his father in the event he was caught and he was glad Jules had him run through the entire spiel just before he could leave.

“I thought I could keep it around. It could work for me“ Logan said carefully, looking at his father. He needed to sell it carefully otherwise Jules could be taken away from him. He did belong to Wright Industries and not Logan’s no matter how many time Jules proclaimed he was Logan’s and Logan was his.

“I could take it during meetings so that the clients could see firsthand the product, interact with it. It would be a good marketing strategy.”

Logan took a deep breath, “I am also prepared to buy it if you feel that we need to sell.”

“It’s okay.” His father waved “I was just curious since I hadn’t heard about the original prototype. It's fine if we don’t sell.” He nodded, “I do like the idea of keeping it around and using it for marketing.”

And Logan breathed a sigh of relief.

*

“How was it,” Jules asked immediately when he picked up Logan’s call. Logan was forever amazed at Jules and his capabilities. He was one of a kind. The other humanoids were most definitely not like him. He was different, he didn’t act like them, like as if he was a glitch in the system. Like as if the other humanoids were normal and he was the faulty one but he was perfect and he was Logan’s. He stared into Julian’s perfect face and animated eyes.“You get to stay and I get to keep to you.”

“Yeay.” Jules cheered, “Now come home, I am hungry.”

They made a home together Jules and he. It started off from that unforgettable day in Derek’s office. To them hanging out together after work. The three of them in Derek’s office, Julian plugged to his cable, charging while Derek and he ordered Chinese take away. They ate and laughed together voicing opinions and thoughts and Derek and he looked amazed every time Julian volunteered new information or his own opinions.

He forever amazed him and when the J series started full production and Derek was busy, it was just the two of them, laughing and talking and eating together. Then one day Jules took his fingers and twined their hands together and just continued talking about his day and Logan leaned and kissed him and that was history.

“I have ordered food from the takeaway.” Julian greeted when Logan walked in. Logan smiled and nodded. “You get to start working with me from tomorrow.” Logan smiled when Jules walked up to him. “Promise,” Jules whispered and Logan kissed him.

*

Working with Jules in an official capacity was amazing. Every day they went to work together, Logan driving them to and fro. It became common knowledge that Jules stayed with him and there were some whispers about the same. But they made a good team and everyone who interacted with Jules was immediately enchanted with him so much so they forgot at times he was humanoid when they offered him food and Jules had to politely decline though he was always happy when he was mistaken.

He took great pride in tricking people he interacted with in the meetings with Logan. Their clients on seeing two relatively young representatives from Wrights Industries thought they could get the better of them but Jules loved getting the edge over them when Logan and he started speaking about technology and numbers and though he didn’t like the times when he had to reveal that he was actually a humanoid. They both didn’t like it as immediately the dynamics in the room would change with interactions with Jules taking on a less than pleasant nature. But they had too, that was the reason he was allowed to be around.

He loved dressing up in suits of highest fabrics and cuts as they felt comfortable on him. Logan called him his marvel when he explained what the different materials felt and Jules had to kiss him in reply especially if Logan had dazzled him earlier with his brilliant mind.

He loved knowing that he had a sense of a purpose and that he drew a salary. The only humanoid to do so though Logan was funding it from his own account. He cried when he came to know and Logan cried too, guiltily. But humanoids had no rights and Jules knew this and recognized the gift Logan was giving him and continued to give him.

“Jules.”

He looked up from his day dreamings to find the love of his life smiling at him. “Look at this please, Derek has sent the new schematics of the new line.”

“Oh, you’re building more me.”

“No, not you.” Logan frowned at Jules’s choice of words, “Never you, you know you’re more than the J series right.” and Jules nodded.

“I sometimes wish I was human like you. More human for you.”

“Hey, hey.” Logan soothed coming to cuddle with Jules, “What's wrong, you know you mean the world to me right. I love you exactly as you are, exactly who you are, my Jules.”

“I know.” sniffled Jules, “It’s just.” He sighed and threw his hands in the air. “Hormones.” and Logan laughed and Julian smiled. “Come let’s go out for lunch.”

*

It all happened in the blink of an eye. They were happily chatting as Logan drove them and then suddenly a vehicle crashed into them and they went spiralling down the street. The force of the impact of the incoming truck completely denting the passenger side.

“Jules.” Logan groaned helplessly. “I.”

Logan escaped with few scratches and bruises and probably few sprained body parts and maybe concussion especially with the wooziness he was feeling. But Jules.

“Look at me Logan,” Jules demanded fearlessly. “Look at me.” when Logan just stared at him and the yellow fluid that was slowly leaking out from him. In few places the outer layer of skin and material that made Jules Jules and not the humanoid he truly was, was torn, missing a couple of layers and the various tech that made up his schematics were visible.

“I love you.” He said fiercely, “Thank you for loving me, Thank you for saving me. Thank you for seeing me as I truly am.”

“Jules.” Logan brokenly whispered as he saw the love of his life slowly dying in front of him. If Jules were truly human he would have already been dead.

“I can fix you.” Logan said brokenly, “D and I, we have your schematics, we can fix you.”

Jules looked down at himself and the slowness he could feel running through his body. “You could try.” he whispered, “But I don’t think I can come back as me.” He glanced down at the leaking fluid coming out of him, “I have lost a lot of, well, blood.” He said sadly. “It’s affecting with my system and I will shut down soon.”

“No.” Logan cried brokenly. “I can’t lose you. Please hold on.”

“Lo, listen to me.” Jules said moving his fingers to curls slowly around Logan’s, “When you’re done grieving ask Derek to show you who I truly am .”

“What,” Logan asked straining to hear him. “Ask Derek.” Jules jerked out, “Ask him to show you who I truly am.” He looked at Logan one last time, “I will always love you.” and closed his eyes.

“Shut down initiated.” came a strange voice as Logan recognized the normal voice box that was available on the J series. “3. 2. 1.”

When the firefighter and medics came to cut them loose from the scrunched up car Jules was already gone and once they realized that the pale, slender man on the passenger seat was a humanoid and that too a destroyed one they left him to focus on the only human in the vehicle who apart from a few bruises, scrapes, cuts and a head wound was unhurt.

“Let go off me.” Logan snarled as they tried to get him away from Jules, “But Sir, it could be dangerous, it’s leaking fluid. The vehicle could blow up.”

“I know that.” snarled Logan angrily. “I made him. And he is not it. He has a name.”

“Of course Sir.” The medic said carefully as they took in Logan’s broken, sad face. He looked at Jules next to him lying peacefully with his eyes closed, face relaxed. He looked as if he was sleeping if one ignored the various cuts and torn pieces that littered his body. “I need an ambulance.”

*

Derek frowned at another late night his friend was pulling as he buried himself the original prototype of the J series that was formerly known as Jules. They were able to put him back together exactly as he was, with all the schematics and inputs but he was just not the same anymore. He looked and sounded exactly like Jules but he was just another droid. He was normal. Spoken only when spoken too, needed to be programmed, input needed to be given via coding. He lost everything that made him Jules.

It was more than a month now and Derek couldn’t take it anymore as he watched his friend tear himself up over and over again when he realized that nothing he did could bring Jules back the way he was before.

“I loved him.” Logan sobbed brokenly, “We made plans to live our lives together.” He threw the socket he had in his hands. “He knew this would happen, he told me this would happen.”

“That he couldn’t return as himself. He freaking said goodbye to me as he lay there dying.”

Derek pulled up a chair and sat beside Logan. He missed Jules too. Missed his friendship. The three of them were best friends; two humans and the android they created and then they all went together to achieve great things; working on perfecting the J series and that line that came after.

They even hung out later after work in Derek’s house or Logan’s and Derek missed him.

“He thanked me, he thanked me for loving him, he thanked me for saving him. “ He turned to his remaining best friend, “He even spoke about you, he asked me to ask you who he truly his.”

“I know who he truly his,” Logan whispered as Derek immediately looked up and frowned. He pulled the tablet next to him, logging in his details and started typing.

“He was my Jules,” Logan whispered as Logan looked at his friend and the tablet in his hands.

“I am going to show you something. But you should not freak out.” Derek whispered softly, still staring at the screen.

“What is it,” Logan said and Derek passed in him the tablet.

“Remember during the beginning days of the J series prototype before Jules was Jules.”

“We had those glitches with the schematics,” Logan said as he remembered the early days when Jules was just a humanoid rebelling with them before he became Jules.

“There were glitches in the voice box, the proportioning of the drawing, input was horribly wrong,”

“He was Jules,” Logan said softly.

“Yes, yes.” Derek said hurriedly “So as head of the department I wanted to know where they got the details from. Did they come by it of their own or did they model if from someone.”

He swiped the tablet in Logan’s hand pulling up a folder. “Meet Julian Larson Armstrong, part-time model and movie actor. The J series was based on him.”

“J series was based on him,” Logan asked softly as he studied the image of the man Derek pulled up on the screen. He looked like his Jules. He was tall, slender, with brown hair and brown eyes, he looked exactly like his Jules but also not like his Jules. He’s real, his brain supplied, a real, live human being, not Jules.

“A bit.” Derek nodded, “They had him come over for a week, studied him, made him do stuff, recite, speak things so as to get good proportions for the mock diagrams and then we took over.“ Logan nodded as that was when he started overseeing when the basic bones were in place.

“I guess they must have inputted his details. Those initial glitches that got smoothed out with the series. But not the original prototype.”

“So he’s Jules.” Logan breathed.

“I don’t know.” Derek said sadly, “I don’t know how much of him was in the actual Jules. He lives here.” swiping over the screen, pulling up an address. “Maybe you should go meet him, for closure at least.

*

Logan looked up dazed at the angry young man who was glaring at him through the screen of his vehicle. He looked similar like Jules but there was a hint of warm flush beneath his skin as he glared angrily at Logan. “I don’t know who you are but if you don’t get off my property I am calling the cops.”

He rolled down his window.  The man looked just like Jules and better since he was alive and talking to him.

“I am Logan. Logan Wright from Wright Industries.”

Julian frowned at the sad young man in front of him.  He looked like he had been crying, He looked like he could cry in any second. He didn't know what he wanted from him. First, he thought he was some kind of a crazy stalker as he just sat there in his hybrid in front of his house and when Julian went to confront him he just stared.

“Wait, Wright Industries, the humanoid makers.”

“Yes.” Logan hiccupped as he watched the man speak. He was exactly like his Jules and also not like his Jules. “I would like to speak with you if possible.”

“And you thought stalking me was the way to go?” Julian snarked and Logan chuckled softly.

“I wasn’t stalking you. I was trying to gather courage. To see if you were like him.”

“Him.” Julian mouthed. “I think you must be confused.”

“I am sorry for taking up your time. But I just.” He turned to the passenger seat and lifted his personal console. “If you could go through this. I would appreciate it.” He handed over his console to Julian who frowned at it. “I don’t think I should –“

“Please.” Logan whispered, “I lost someone whom I cared I deeply and you look just like him.”

Julian blanched, “They told me no one would know, that humanoids won’t look like me.” He frowned at Logan, “I have seen them, apart from a few common features they behave and act like droids.”

“Yes, but except him.” Logan whispered, “He was everything.”

“I think we should have this conversation inside, you should come in.”

Julian invited him into his home and Logan nodded and followed him. He looked sad as glanced at Julian as they walked up the stairs and into his house.

“The bathroom is that way if you want to freshen up.” and Logan nodded gratefully.

Julian glanced at the console which was open to reveal hundreds of images of Logan and what could only be the humanoid he was speaking about, Jules.  While he looked like the other humanoids in the market, this one was different. He carried himself differently, like a human, slouched posture, wide grins, deep knowing looks. They loved one another, one could clearly see from the images. But Julian was not him.

“I am sorry for your loss.” Julian said when Logan entered the room, “But I am not sure what you want of me.”

“I am not sure of myself.” Logan whispered sadly as he took back the console from Julian, smiling sadly at the collage of images. “I just came to know that you existed. I barely know anything about you, except that he was modelled on you and I needed to see.”

Julian’s heart broke for him. He loved so deeply. Julian always wanted to know that felt like to be loved like that. To have somebody who loved you so much.

“Well, I guess,” he looked at Logan who was still looking at the images, “you could keep in touch with me if you need to.”

“I could,” Logan asked as the frown lines slowly left his face and Julian realized how pretty he was as he slowly started to look better.

“Yeah. “ Julian nodded, “I can’t imagine what it must have felt like, to have a love like that only to lose it.”

“It’s the worst,” Logan said sadly, looking at Julian in front of him.

“Just remember though I am Julian, not him.”

*

Julian is not sure what to make of the entire situation. Logan left immediately soon after, he seemed calmer than he was before. They exchanged numbers and he promised to be respectful of Julian’s wishes to not confuse the two of them and slowly their friendship grew.

He realized that Logan was actually smart, funny and capable with a good a head on his shoulders and that he was passionate and he slowly found himself becoming friends.

He even met Derek, the other guy featured in the images that Logan had brought along with him the first time they met. He enquired about him once during their casual hangouts when they shared a couple of beer where he jokingly asked whether Derek missed Jules as well. Luckily Logan had moved passed the stage of grief where Jules’s name would reduce him to tears but now he just smiled fondly albeit a little sad. The pain of losing Jules would always be there for him, Julian realized.

And here he was now with the both of them, goofing off and smiling as Derek shared his latest conquest stories and Jules and Logan groaned and threw peanuts at him.

“Let’s take a picture,” Derek said immediately and drew out his console, tapping at the screen. “You’ll be okay with this.” Julian nodded at Logan, “Us taking a picture, the three of us together.”

“Yes.” Logan nodded, “I know you’re not him. We know you’re not him.” he gestured to Derek and him. “But you have become our best friend Jules.”

Derek looked wide-eyed and Logan backtracked. “Sorry I know you don’t want to be called Jules, but,” he cried out, “your name is so long.”

Julian looked at him deeply in the eye trying to find something which was not there. “It's ok.” He nodded as he took a sip of his beer. “I prefer Jules or J, only my agent and my mother ever calls me Julian.”

“How is the filming of the movie?” Logan asked and Julian smiled and described the antics of his co-stars.

It grew from there, the three of them hanging out together every time Julian was free or was in town and he found himself enjoying their company and they too were slowly becoming his best friends and he slowly realized that he was starting to develop feelings for Logan.

He always happy when Logan visited. The initial visits themselves were rare even though Julian told him that he could visit and Logan always called before he came. They spoke about their day, Logan happy to be in the company of Julian as they chatted about inconsequential things and one horrible time during the anniversary where Logan scared him when he showed up absolutely dejected and broken.

But then he started getting better and he would smile and laugh and make jokes and snark at Julian, sometimes volunteer information about Jules when he remembered something though those were becoming less frequent and that’s how he knew Logan was slowly healing.

And now he showed up uninvited, ringing his doorbell to be let in till Julian gave Derek and him their own set of keys to his place. In fact, they all shared keys to their place to make it easier for them to come and go as they please.

“Jules.” Logan inquired as he walked in and shut the door behind him, “Where are you.”

“In here.” Julian replied, “Where’s Derek.”

“He’s running late, there was a problem in the production line.”

“And why aren’t you with him,” Julian smirked as he hugged Logan in greeting.

“I am his boss.” Logan scoffed and took the offered glass from Julian, “I can leave anytime I want.” And Julian laughed.

“He’s on his way.” Logan smiled and absentmindedly tucked a stray strand of Julian’s hair behind his ear and Julian’s heart skipped a beat.

*

“You know you can tell him right.” Derek gestured at Logan who was ordering their drinks at the bar. “Hmm.” Julian murmured as he watched Logan interact with a service humanoid.

“You’re not as subtle as you think.” Derek laughed and Julian frowned, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Tell him, he would want to know.”

“I don’t know what to say. I don’t even if he’ll ever be open to it.” He glanced at the table and then at Derek, “Logan has not dated since then. Even though he’s better now. It will be three years.” and Derek nodded. “I don’t think he will ever date again. They did love each other, deeply.”

“Did Logan ever told you how he first came to know about you?” Derek asked and Julian frowned, “He told me that you gave him the details.”

“That I did.” Derek acknowledged, “But he first came to know because Jules told him to come and speak to me.”

“What.” Julian looked shocked,

“Jules was very smart.” Derek smiled softly and Julian was forever in awe of the trio’s friendship. “We both came to know about you together. He was working on perfecting himself. Sometimes I think he was trying to turn himself human. He took great pleasure when people mistook him for being human. Anyway,” Derek continued, “there were glitches in his programming system that we found out to be characteristics of the original model. Basically he had a majority of your characteristics in him. It was what made him Jules, different from the other humanoids.” He took a deep breath “So yes he knew about you, well that he was based off a human and when he was dying he told Logan to go search for you. He basically led Logan to you.”

“I, we –“Julian stuttered and saw that Logan was finely done and was coming towards them with their drinks in his hand.

“He didn’t know then. I don’t think he has fully thought about it but I think he is slowly starting to realize it.” and Julian frowned Wait, what

“Talk to him.” Derek rushed and beamed a smile at his friend, “What took you so long.”

“You won’t believe the mess at the counter.” Logan snarked, “It was a nightmare but I finally got them.” He smiled at Julian who was looking a little worried, “Jules, you okay.” He asked and Julian smiled at him softly and then frowned at Derek who was grinning dopily at them.

“Yes, yes,” Julian snarked and took his glass from a beaming Logan, “don’t know what his problem though,” he said pointing at a laughing Derek.

*

“Hey, I got your message. What’s up.” Logan smiled as entered into Julian’s house and found Julian sitting on the couch studying a picture of them.  “I like this photo.” He said as he sat down next to Julian, “Me too.” Julian whispered. It was an image of the two of cuddling, Julian sitting nestled in Logan’s arms and they tried and failed to stay awake watching a movie.

Logan was always close with him, hugging him, cuddling him, soothing him just like now when he pulled Julian close to him rubbing his back.  “What happened?”

“I am sorry for what I am about to say, but I think that you should know,” Julian mumbled and got up from where he was seated. “Derek thinks you should know. He hinted you might feel the same way.” He added and Logan smiled at him and encouraged him with his eyes.

“I think I have feelings for you.” He whispered softly, “No, I know I have feelings for you. But I am afraid that it’s too soon for you. That you might not feel the same way.

“That you would never feel the same way,”  Julian added softly.

“Oh Jules.” Logan whispered brokenly, “I do feel the same for you. I tried not too, I thought I was mixing up my feelings for Jules. But it’s different.”  He stood up walking slowly towards Julian, “You’re strong and capable and amazing and here and human. So very human.” as he ran his fingers gently across Julian’s cheek watching his blush stain his cheek.

“I met you in beginning for Jules but then I stayed for you. Amazing, magical you.” and Julian smiled softly and leaned into Logan’s touch.

“I like if we could date.” Julian smiled and Logan nodded and linked their fingers, “I like that as well.” and pulled Julian close to him nestling his face against his.

The end.

[princessplantasaurus]

A Part 2

Part two of this

Quentin Beck x Female OC Sometime after Iron Man 2 but before Age of Ultron (but we’re getting closer to Ultron now) OBVIOUSLY spoilers for Spider-Man: Far From Home

Content warning: alcohol, strong language, LOTS of sexuality including vaginal fingering, hair pulling, blowjobs, voyeurism, insertional intercourse  Previously:  So more often than not, she did her best to pretend it never happened. Pretend her only contact with him was that day in the break room. Which would’ve been made much easier, if he wasn’t suddenly taking all his breaks at the same time she was, eyes always on her, as if studying her every move. In a way, it was degrading, and yet...it was almost exhilarating. Like a game of cat and mouse. And god, did she ever want him to pounce on her already. But Beck was still waiting, still calculating. He was going to pounce, but the moment, of course, had to catch her off guard.

This didn’t make the weeks leading up to the company Christmas party any less stressful for Veronica. Of course, the holidays were a stressful enough time on their own, without the constant thoughts of Beck in the back of her mind. So when the night of the party did roll around, Veronica’s only plan for the evening was drinking just enough that things got blurry and then finally letting go, relaxing, having a good time.

This plan got spoiled before she even had a chance to finish her first flute of champagne. Swaggering up with a flute of champagne in each of his hands, Quentin raised an eyebrow at her glass, taunting “Looks like I arrived just in time.”

Eyebrows knitting in confusion, she questioned “What are you-”

She was cut off by the gesture of him outstretching an arm, wiggling the champagne flute enough to get her attention, but not enough so that any of the drink spilled. “Here. It’s for you. I got it for you.”

Veronica glanced carefully between her drink and the one in his hand, up to him, and then back to her own drink. Acting on impulse and deciding it best to trust him, she quickly downed what was left of her initial drink, before coyly questioning “Are you trying to get me drunk?” while taking the second drink out of his hand.

“Maybe.” he smirked, but in such a way that only one side of his mouth twitched upwards. Bringing his eyes away from her for the first time since he made his way over, he took a sip of his own, carefully glancing back out into the sea of partying Stark employees, before he questioned “You still sleeping with Stark?”

With a huff, she snapped her head towards him, stating clearly and aggressively “I never was. And I’m still not.”

The sideways glance he gave her was cautious, calculated, and reeked of curiosity “Potts? Didn’t tag you as playing for that team.”

“I’m not sleeping with anyone.” she corrected, with a roll of her eyes, but it was jovial. Unlike the last time they’d spoken, this didn’t seem serious, not a legitimate accusation of her character. Two coworkers joking around, shooting the breeze.

“No one at all, huh?” he questioned, before giving her the classic once over, biting down on his lip before pretending he hadn’t just made such an obvious move, shrugging as he looked back out to the party, mumbling “What a shame.” as his champagne got closer to his lips.

Cheeks flushing intensely, Veronica managed to stutter out “Excuse me?!?”

“I’m just saying” Quentin shrugged casually. “I’m sure a lot of people at this company would gladly trade promotional favors for sexual ones if you were the one offering.”

“Why do I have to be sleeping with someone to get ahead in the company in this scenario?” she questioned “Can’t I just be sleeping with someone cause I’m attracted to them? No strings attached?”

In retrospect, Quentin sitting his drink down and actively walking away from it should’ve been her first clue to where the rest of the night was headed. With a shake of his head a low chuckle, he countered “Oh no, sweetie, that opens up your sexual availability to the likes of me, and you don’t want that.”

“What makes you think you know what I want?” she teased, batting her eyelashes, still assuming this was all a game “Maybe I want that. Maybe I want you.”

With a breathy exhale of “You shouldn’t have said that”, suddenly Veronica’s senses were flooded with nothing but Quentin. Quentin’s hands on her face, his cologne in her nostrils, his beard just lightly scratching the area around her mouth, how surprisingly soft and wet and warm his lips were, the moan he let escape as she dropped her drink, letting her hands rake through his hair, kissing him back just as passionately and urgently as he kissed her.

And then...then they were in a cab. She couldn’t remember when they left, where they were going or how they got there. She remembered still being at the party when his tongue slipped inside her mouth the first time, and then...a lustful haze...and then Quentin’s predatory growls of pleasure as he bit at her neck, hand up her skirt and clawing at her thigh, brushing the silk of her panties just often enough to elicit a sharp gasp.

All it took was his other hand, the one that had been cradling her neck, to slip farther down as he attempted to fondle her breast as best as possible given that her dress was still covering her up, for her to finally break. “MMMM! Fuck!” she cried, causing him to cease the trail of hickeys he was leaving on her neck, lifting his head up to look at her as she whimpered “I need...please…”

Lifting both hands, and practically glowing in the shock that caused her, he touched her again, but only with one finger, to tilt her head to look him in the eye “What do you need, Veronica?”

“I need you…”

“Need me to what?” he continued to play dumb, but in such an obvious way that it was impossible for her to misunderstand why. He was loving every second of this.

“T-touch…”

“I’m already touching you, Veronica. Did you want me to touch you somewhere else?”

“You know…” she whined.

“But I don’t.” he shrugged. “You’ll have to tell me.”

She really didn’t want to say it. The cab driver could hear her. Having gone as far as they had with someone else present was already voyeuristic enough. But he was locking those beautifully blue eyes with hers, wide and full of feigned naivety, nodding at her to go on. “My pussy.” she mumbled, embarrassed.

“Do what with your pussy?” he questioned. “Use your words, Veronica. Full sentence. Come on.”

“I want you to finger my pussy, Quentin,” she hissed “fuck.”

“Is that all?” he smirked, lifting her skirt back up and sneaking his hand up and under the silk undergarment, rubbing it gently, at first, as Veronica threw her head back in pleasure. “That wasn’t so hard, was it? Just gotta ask for what you want, honey. I’ll give it to you.”

And with that, he did give it to her. One finger, at first, just to gauge her reaction, but then pulled out and reentered with two. “I didn’t take you for such a whore, Veronica. Good girls don’t like getting fingered in the back of a dirty cab. But you’re not a good girl, are you?” he paused, as if to see if she was going to argue, but the only noises she made were her laboured breathing and a lot of short cries of pleasure as fingers continued to thrust inside of her. “No, you’re my little whore. Say it. Say you’re mine, whore.”

“Quentin…” she moaned, as she felt it was all she could do.

“Come on,” he urged. “Full sentences, remember?”

“I’m your little whore” she whimpered, almost crying from just how close she was to release, and just how good he was at edging her there.

And then she felt it. His other hand rubbing against her clit. God, she was close. She could literally feel it coming. Any second now. 

“Mmmm, good job.” he smirked.

And Veronica hated to admit that his praise is what did her in, but it did.

And thank goodness, because as she began to come down from her climax, the cab slowed to a stop. As she sat back up and yanked her skirt back down, she saw Quentin pay the driver, and assumed that this was, in fact, their stop. She opened the door to find that they were in Battery Park City, in front of one of the neighbourhood’s more modest looking apartment complexes.

As the taxi drove away, Quentin pulled keys out of his pocket, and then wrapped his arm around her waist with his free hand. “You’ve got to have your fun. Now it’s my turn.”

She giggled with excitement as he lead into the building, climbing the stairs to the second floor. The top of the stairwell, he decided was as good of place as any to kiss the hell out of her again, and Veronica wasn’t exactly resisting. Letting his lips travel south to her jaw, and then her neck, he mumbled “I don’t know if I can make it to my apartment.”

And as much as there was a very active part of Veronica’s brain that wanted to agree and let him take her right then and there in the stairwell, she had also already been fingered to climax in the back of a cab, and she didn’t want to make a habit of the whole public thing, god forbid she might discover that it had awakened something. “How far is your place?” she asked, the fingers previously combing through his hair giving a slight tug.

“Four doors down.” he admitted.

“That’s not far,” she reasoned. “And then you can do whatever you want to me.”

He chuckled, almost darkly, as he countered “I was planning on that anyway, sweets.”

And with a sudden yank of her hand, they were in the hallway, in front of his door, his hand only leaving hers to fumble with his keys, but as soon as the door was open, his hands were on her waist, the door was slammed behind them, and he’d somehow managed to sandwich her against it. Lips and tongues mixing in hot, desperate movements, as Quentin did his best to try and get her dress off of her. Problem being that the zipper to that garment was on her back that he’d slammed against his front door.

Pulling away from their sloppy wet kisses, he muttered “Jesus Christ, am I going to have to rip this thing off with my teeth?”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” she teased, breathlessly, before sliding out from under him and unzipping the back. “This was expensive though.”

With a smirk accompanied by a borderline predatory gaze, he conceded “I can work with that.”

And suddenly, she hit his mattress with a soft thud, Quentin hovering over her, yanking the dress off of her body, his own shirt gone and his pants unzipped. “Fuck,” he muttered, seeming almost genuinely upset “You really weren’t wearing a bra this whole time?”

“It’s a strapless dress.” she stated, as though it was an obvious forgone conclusion.

“You really are a whore.”

She didn’t have a chance to respond, as he was back to kissing her, now happily letting his hands knead her breasts, chuckling deliciously in the delight he took in hearing the high and sharp “mmm!” she made when his thumbs ran over her nipples, languidly flicking them back and forth. 

“You like that?” he smirked, pulling away. 

Veronica nodded, almost helplessly, and squirmed in pleasure as he lightly booped her nose, assuring her “We’re gonna have a lot fun tonight, honey.”

Before she had time to think about what was happening, she was flipped onto her stomach, Quentin having discarded his pants, working now on removing the panties he’d been so happily playing under not so long ago. “You were so wet when I was fingering you in that cab, Veronica.” he practically purred, lifting her legs around his torso like a wheelborrow. “Slippery job, getting you off. Can you do that again for me? Can you drip all over cock?”

“Wait,” she muttered, turning her head around best she could, her voice clearer and more assured as she asked “Are you hard already?”

She got her answer in the form of Quentin shoving his entire dick inside of her. “Fuck,” he gasped “you’re so tight. You’re such a small thing, Hansen.” 

She wasn’t sure which shocked her more, the sudden slap to her ass as he continued to thrust into her, or the sudden realization that it was the first time she’d heard Beck voice her last name. 

Doing her best to meet his thrusts and match his rhythm (being taken from behind was throwing her off her game), she caught even herself off guard as her back completely arched when, after curling her hair around his fist, Quentin gave the copper tresses a pull. Voice slightly ragged from the physical exertion of pounding into her pussy, his lips were suddenly at her ear, muttering “I think about pulling your hair every single time you pull it into a ponytail in the break room. Taunting me. And now every time you do it, you’re going to think about me, aren’t you? You’re going to think about how good that felt.”

And for a moment, she was back in the break room, tying her hair up, with Quentin watching her. Always watching her so intently. But now she imagined a devious gleam in his eye, a knowing smile. With another yank of her hair she was brought back to the bedroom, back to reality, back to his lips still at her ear, his breath hot, his breathing getting more and more irregular as his thrusts became more and more sporadic. “Fuck,” he muttered, surprisingly gently, before suddenly lifting himself farther from her, pulling his dick out.

Veronica watched in confusion as he climbed off the bed, before he pointed to the carpet, stating “on your knees.”

Apparently, her slow blink in horny confusion wasn’t a fast enough response for him, because suddenly he was pulling her hair again, but in a much less sexy way, as he barked “I said ON YOUR KNEES, Veronica! What part of that are you having trouble with?!?”

She obliged this time, moving as quickly as possible. Of course, she knew what he wanted. She took just the tip in her mouth at first, glancing up as she bobbed back and forth, slowly pushing a little more into her mouth each time. She glanced up, cautiously, but as his eyes rolled back in his head it seemed like whatever caused that outburst had dissipated. He was enjoying it, bucking his hips towards her, needily. There was a shuddered gasp of her name, and then pulling out, quickly, to try and aim to cum on her tits. “That’s my Veronica,” he praised “That’s my good girl.”

She wasn’t about to admit it, but there was something inherently arousing about being covered in his jizz. As he flopped himself back onto the bed, sitting this time, she remained on the floor, slowly but surely massaging the cum by fondling her own breasts. Each of her tits in one of her hands, she moved them up and down, gently rubbing against each other, quickening in pace. She was almost ready to start grinding her clit against the carpet of his bedroom, but as she let out a small moan of pleasure, Quentin’s eyes flickered back to her, and his sudden moan was a lot louder than hers.

“You really are just a sick little slut, aren’t you?” he questioned, moving, not to touch her, but to start stroking his own dick, watching her. With an almost lazy smirk, he added “Perfect for a sick little guy like me.”

She would’ve blushed if her cheeks weren’t already flushed from her own arousal, as she nodded, looking up to him, making eye contact as she let one of her hands drop to her clit.

Immediately, Quentin’s hand was on her arm. “No no no, don’t do that.” his voice was hushed. “Both hands on your tits. Please.”

“But-”

“You need to get off.” he finished automatically, before tapping his thigh, inviting her up. “Come on. Get up here.”

“You sure?” she questioned, standing back up.

He nodded, letting go of his erection, using both hands to grab her by the waist and pull her onto him. “You’re my little whore, remember? I gotta take care of you. And you,” he paused, taking her hand in his, leading it to his cock, making her stroke it “Got to take care of this. This is your fault. You made it show up. Now take care of it,” his eyes widened, in a way she wasn’t sure was playful or not, as he lustfully whispered “whore.”

For a moment, she was content to tease him, continuing to rub his dick, brushing her thumb over the tip now and again to hear him groan. But while he’d gotten off to her mouth just a few minutes ago, she hadn’t gotten off since the taxi over. She didn’t make him wait too long before climbing onto his dick, riding it quickly, deeply, mewling and moaning in how good it felt all the while. 

Beck was quick to buck against her, quickly capturing her lips in his again, now that they were facing each other. Bringing his lips down to leave a slobbery trail across her jaw, his beard scratching at her neck, the sensation only heightening every thrust, every other touch. 

Veronica’s head fell against his, foreheads touching, with a soft whimper of “Quentin…”

“Tell me you’re mine,” he whispered breathlessly. “Tell me I’m the only one who makes you feel like this.”

“Quentin, I’m-mmmm!” 

He didn’t get to hear what he wanted, but he did get the next best thing, as the warm wet walls of her vagina clenched and tightened around his cock, Veronica riding out her climax while still on top of him. Her fingernails digging into shoulders, he felt his own push, doubling up in speed for the next few seconds before he completely poured out inside of her.

“Did you…?”

“I’ll pay for the Plan B, don’t worry.” he assured her, before throwing himself back onto his bed, finally lying down. Waiting for her head to hit the mattress next to him, he turned to her as she did, smirking “So good, right?”

Nodding, eyelids falling from exhaustion and exertion, she echoed. “Good. Really good.”

He nodded back, licking his lips slowly, before finally questioning “Better than Stark?”

“I’m still not sleeping with him.” she droned monotonously.  A small, genuine smile crept up on his lips, as he found himself murmuring “Good.”