#this article is ridiculously long and I have a little over 2 weeks to use it up

[softinvasions]

Telephone Wire • Jan. 2024

poetry assembled from a national geographic article on touch. support me on patreon here.

[bueckers-sturniolo]

i have literally been begging for someone to write a paige fic based on “Slut!” by TS like the parts that’s like “if i’m all dressed up, they might as well be looking at us” where reader is famous and gets like hated on for being a “slut” 💁‍♀️💁‍♀️

“slut!”

paige bueckers x female!reader

a/n: hi guys!!! sorry it took me so long to edit this and actually post it. i don’t have much to say but THANK YOU FOR THE LOVE ON THE ALCHEMY!!! i promise part 2 is coming soon!!! ps: this may suck a little but i wrote it in an hour and a half so im sorry!!! also, this hasnt been proofread bc its 6 am and i havent slept! hope u somewhat enjoy!!! love uuuu!

warnings: naur, just swearing :)

word count: somewhere around 1k-ish

-

got love-struck, went straight to my head. got lovesick all over my bed. love to think you’ll never forget. we’ll pray the price, i guess.

you had been dating paige for 5 months, now. she was the best person you had ever met, and an even better lover than you could have ever imagined. but, being in the public eye isn’t necessarily ideal, especially when you’re queer. paige was a basketball player at uconn, and you had been famous for a few years. you had been famous before you knew paige, and even before paige was famous. it’s awesome, and you love it. the lifestyle can be very rewarding and enjoyable.

but, being ‘famous’ comes with its faults. as most things do. over the years, you had developed this sort of…. title. this title being that you are some kind of insane serial-dater. it was pretty ridiculous. of course, paige loved you for you, and didn’t really give a fuck as to what people had to say about you. but, it’s still obviously hurtful, and paige gets that.

present day, the epsy’s were coming up. this is something that meant a lot to your girlfriend. and, quite frankly, you’d do anything to make her happy.

until that thing was going as her date (or +1) to the epsy’s. not that you didn’t want to, not that it was because you were gay. but, because you knew how much this could mess with both of your careers. you didn’t really care about your own, cause people are gonna talk about you regardless, but paige’s social presence made it hard to just come out and do whatever you guys want.

“i mean, i’d just really want you there. we can like…. coincide outfits ‘n shit.” paige says, looking over at you, eating a bite of her cereal.

“yeah, p. i understand.” you say, sighing. you look down at your hands, acting like you were paying attention to anything to distract her (and yourself) from the fact that you really just do not know how it would go, and that fact is stressful in itself.

“baby, if you don’t want to go, it’s fine. im just saying it would be cool.” she says, and you meet her eyes again.

you know she’s right. it would be really fuckin’ cool. but like, at the same time, you really didn’t want to have to receive all of the texts from your publisher of news articles with pictures of you and paige where they essentially just put your name in bold letters then talk about how much of a slut you are for dating 4 people in your approximate 5 years of being famous.

yes, it may seem like a lot. but, also, most of these relationships only lasted a few months. you never necessarily wanted them to go public, but, they almost always did. that’s why you and paige took extra precautions.

obviously, one day, you wanted to tell people about you and paige. but, you wanted it to be when you guys had atleast made it past the new relationship stage.

but, if im all dressed up, they might as well be lookin’ at us. and if they call me a ‘slut,’ you know, it might be worth it for once. and if im gonna be drunk, i might as well be drunk in love.

you couldn’t help but give in. there was exactly a week before the epsy’s, and even though you’d kept telling paige you really didn’t think going was a good idea, you felt so bad for saying it that you randomly changed your mind.

“p, come here.” you say, calling from the couch in your living room. she walked in the room, hands on her hips, sleeves rolled up. she was loading the dishwasher for you, as the ‘gentleman’ she was (in a world of boys, (s)he’s a gentleman.)

“yes, baby? what’s wrong?” she says, walking toward you and sitting down, resting an arm on the back of the couch behind your head. “i wanna go with you, p. ill go with you to the awards.” as you say this, you fiddle with the hem of her basketball shorts.

“you wanna go with me? seriously?” she perks up. her whole face immediately lights up. this was the reason you were doing it. that reaction right there.“yes, love. i want to go with you.” she grabs your chin, pulling your face closer to her and gently pressing a kiss to your temple.

“you know, you don’t have to go if you don’t want to. i know you don’t want to read about all of the stupid shit men online say about you. they don’t even know you and it’s so infuriating that they think they can talk about my baby like that. my sweet, sweet girl...” she rubs your side, kissing your temple gently a few more times while babbling a few more sweet names in your ear.

“i know, p. but, i also know i don’t owe anyone shit, and if i want to go out in public with you, i shouldnt be scared. i mean- it’s just…. like, i just want keep hiding us because of the fact that people always have some stupid shit to say. you know, if they call me a whore or if they call me a slut, it might be worth it. it may just be worth it this once.” she smiles ear to ear as you say this. seconds after this, she tackles you onto the couch, pecking all over your face as she tickles your sides.

half asleep, takin’ your time in the tangerine neon lights. this is luxury. you’re not saying you’re in love with me, but, you’re goin’ to. half away, takin’ your chance, it’s a big mistake. i said, ‘it might blow up in your pretty face.’ im not sayin’ do it anyway, but you’re going to.

the night finally arrives. you guys are both getting your hair done. paige is wearing a lilac suit, and she looks ridiculously attractive. you were wearing a white dress with lilac heels, to coincide with her.

you guys get to the carpet, and it feels so surreal. you guys are finally out together and it’s just fucking insane. she does a few interviews, and they even ask you for your own pictures (even though you’re not an athlete)

the awards themselves are good, paige presents and even changes suits. she looks fuckin’ phenomenal.

but, then the after-party comes. the lights are tangerine and kinda dim, everyone’s drunk, and some people are even outside in a swimming pool. (???)

you had been to award shows yourself, but this was so cool. paige grabs you guys drinks throughout the night, careful not to get too wasted, but enough to get a little tipsy. by the end of the afterparty, so many pictures of you guys had been taken you felt like it was kinda too hard to hide your relationship from the world anymore.

while this wasn’t the main goal of tonight whatsoever, paige decided it was time to make your relationship social media official. she thought you deserved to be loved out loud, and honestly she couldn’t give any less of a fuck who said what. you loved her. she loved you. that’s all that mattered.

@paigebueckers

liked by kamoreaarnold and others

paigebueckers: Cats out of the bag I guess 🐈👜

view all 2,405 comments

kamoreaarnold: Photo creds on slide 3

> paigebueckers: @kamoraarnold Best photographer 🙌

yourusername: wow she’s cute who is that

> paigebueckers: @/yourusername Idiot

>> yourusername: @/paigebueckers 😁

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[mlobsters]

supernatural s1e1 pilot (w. eric kripke)

(this is a rewatch, so spoilers abound)

because my brain is jacked up, i'm weirdly anxious about rewatching the show even though that's been The Plan for months. i watched 15x20 a week (plus) ago and every time i think about starting over at the pilot and writing them up proper like i did around s4-5 onward, my chest kind of clenches up and i look for literally anything else to do. i am worried about having feelings that i'm not prepared to deal with. which is fucking ridiculous.

hold onto your butts, this is gonna be a long fucking post

i've mentioned before that babies in peril is my number 1 hard stop on media -- i stopped watching killing eve mid-episode because of one and never went back to it (i intended to but never happened, brain weasels make everything hard.) so i know the very first time i tried to watch spn (several years ago) i almost turned it off because of little baby sam. that first attempt at watching i wasn't actually fully paying attention, i had it on while i was doing other things and so i missed all the character stuff and only saw it as kind of a mid horror schlocky situation so i never finished the first season back then. when i gave it another go in early 2023, i was giving it my full attention.

one thing this show always got? the cutest, happiest, sweetest babies. 10/10 would recommend

already freaking out how young everyone is and happy clean shaven john is extra wild

demon growl sound effect / padalecki's accent & jerk bitch moment

hey, it's the first instance of the demon growl noise when mary's burning on the ceiling! ooh i'm gonna be even more insufferable about the musical score and sound effects now that i'm listening for it from the jump

also i have called padalecki's accent/speech pattern the crispy r based on some tiktok i heard describing it that way - i associate it with california (but these clips are almost the opposite where the R is getting almost eliminated but not in the boston accent way), and i'd say maybe it was a choice but i think he spoke this way in gilmore girls too? but anyway, his Rs are just very different and it's a very particular and kind of subtle accent that definitely doesn't carry through the entire series ("bear it" in the second clip, the "sorry" in the third). i mentioned it when they had a clip of a moment from 1x10 as well in the pre-ep recap for 5x09

really well done and effective effects on that fire in the nursery

♥️💔

so this picture made it out of the lawrence fire (it was on mary's nightstand) but not the stanford one? i don't recall it being in the collection

i never really understood where sam was supposed to be timeline-wise in college, other than he must not have graduated because it was october? so there's me googling when you take the LSAT. so he could have (assuming it hasn't changed that much since 2005) taken it in june or october of the calendar year before he graduated. all right so that makes sense now that i think about it for more than 30 seconds. so he didn't finish his last year really of his bachelor's. and he's 22. i think in that alex irvine john winchester diary novel thing (don't think that that's considered canon but that's a whole other can of worms), it said sam graduated high school at 19 instead of 18 so i think that would make things line up (someone made a timeline that also includes everything in that novel but the post is loudly wncest dni so i won't link it). i do know it was just a mistake that the pilot said sam had been gone 2 years.

the ever useful canon discrepancies article at superwiki:

One of the most frequently debated potential canon discrepancies. Here are the facts: - In the 1.01 Pilot, Sam is about to be interviewed for law school, which could work on the assumption that he's just about to finish a bachelor degree (4 years). Dean also says that he hasn't spoken to Sam in "nearly two years." - In 1.03 Dead in the Water, Dean tells Sam that he spent "Every day for two years with Dad, while you were going to pep rallies." - In 1.07 Hook Man, Dean says "So this is how you spent four good years of your life, huh?" when they are researching in the library. - The original promo dates Mary's death to September 13, 1985, consistent with Sam being twenty and having been at Stanford for two years but out of step with everything else in the series. Eric Kripke acknowledged during a panel at the 2006 William S. Paley Television Festival that they made a mistake in the script -- initially Sam was meant to be 20, then they aged him up to 22, but neglected to change Dean's line from "two years" to "four years." Therefore, it may have been the creators' intention that Sam has been at college for four years.

this is gonna take me approximately forever to rewatch episodes 🤪

keeping my eye out for hands for drawing. have a general idea of getting something early seasons to go in the set with the 15x20 hands.

SAM Yeah? When I told Dad I was scared of the thing in my closet, he gave me a .45. DEAN Well, what was he supposed to do? SAM I was nine years old! He was supposed to say, don't be afraid of the dark.

classic john

SAM Yeah, I know, but still. The way we grew up, after Mom was killed, and Dad's obsession to find the thing that killed her. SAM But we still haven't found the damn thing. So we kill everything we can find. DEAN We save a lot of people doing it, too.

one thing i'm thinking about is how i definitely was under the impression that they really didn't know any other hunters until they start getting mentioned here and there (dropping bits of backstory about working jobs with xyz while sam was at school etc), and that they barely knew anything about demons. so i'm curious to see how much of that is me misremembering

SAM You think Mom would have wanted this for us? The weapon training, and melting the silver into bullets? Man, Dean, we were raised like warriors. DEAN So what are you gonna do? You're just gonna live some normal, apple pie life? Is that it? SAM No. Not normal. Safe. DEAN And that's why you ran away. SAM I was just going to college. It was Dad who said if I was gonna go I should stay gone. And that's what I'm doing.

classic john x2. i know it's the pilot, i know they're bombing us with backstory like they need to, but i'm just like. everything about this ends up being pretty essential to understanding them and how they were raised it's so much 😩

DEAN I can't do this alone. SAM Yes you can. DEAN Yeah, well, I don't want to.

excuse me while my heart breaks into little bits. i knew that line in 15x20 was a callback to this, and it was heartbreaking then too. well actually it makes feel slightly ill rereading that scene from the finale. too emotionally invested

DEAN It started happening more and more, so Dad went to go dig around. That was about three weeks ago. I hadn't heard from him since, which is bad enough. DEAN Then I get this voicemail yesterday. He presses play. The recording is staticky and the signal was clearly breaking up. JOHN Dean...something big is starting to happen...I need to try and figure out what's going on. It may... Be very careful, Dean. We're all in danger.

so he coulda like. told dean he was ditching him for his safety in this sketchy vague voicemail, but then of course we wouldn't have them chasing him down with quite the same mystery. it's just kind of comical.

like this post puts it:

spn season 1 is so funny. they made the main plot line finding sam and dean’s missing father. but like. the guys not missing. he’s just avoiding them.

i'm sure (i hope???) every rewatch post isn't going to turn into a dissertation like this. good grief

hey. i was gonna mention that music was quite inoffensive and not bad at all and was about give old jay a pat on the back, but no! it's christopher lennertz lol. my ear always knows. so that's the originator of the demon growl sound

SAM It's the greatest hits of mullet rock. DEAN Well, house rules, Sammy. Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole. SAM You know, Sammy is a chubby twelve-year-old. SAM It's Sam, okay?

i mean so many classic interactions i can't handle it. also, real shame netflix didn't/wouldn't get the licensing for the music originally aired. i have the blurays but i'm down a functional bluray player so here i am, watching on netflix with shitty replacement music yet again. that scene should have had ramblin man and back in black. travesty. back when they splashed out for the good licensed music (and i usually was on board with lennertz's selections)

the comment about them being a little young for federal marshals (also in their kinda scruffy clothes lol) and wikipedia says:

Marshals Service hiring is competitive and comparable to the selection process for Special Agent positions in agencies with similar duties. Typically fewer than five percent of qualified applicants are hired [citation needed] and must possess at a minimum a four-year bachelor's degree or competitive work experience (which is usually three or more years at a local or state police department).

so i mean, sounds like it's doable! barely. (i'm not even halfway through the episode lol)

stepping on dean's foot, smacking sam's head. very good sibling stuff

meanwhile we're gonna pop jackles in some bomb ass golden hour lighting so we can get his pretty, pretty face looking even prettier. lighting doesn't match any other part of the scene, but if you can get them lit up in it, we're using it!

SHERIFF Can I help you boys? DEAN No, sir, we were just leaving. As the FBI AGENTS walk past DEAN, he nods at each of them. DEAN Agent Mulder. Agent Scully.

respect to the og (that was the show of my youth and my forever otp and also my first impression of sam and dean's relationship was mid-run mulder and scully)

s1e1 r.d. call as sheriff pierce / the x-files s1e18 as sheriff daniels

oh! and this sheriff was a sheriff in an xfiles episode, that's even better! that's brilliant. love to see it

those jeans and before dean had his signature logger boots which i didn't apparently really notice until s6

DEAN Yeah, Troy told us about you. We're his uncles. I'm Dean, this is Sammy.

uncles??? lol

another thing i remember really liking is these random girls aren't like.. tv pretty makeup. they're just random gothy girls with stark harsh eye makeup and lipstick and matte heavier foundation. like real people do! it just makes it feel more grounded in reality to me when not everyone's makeup is tv-perfect

y'all. look at this! so i have talked a lot about the computer stuff, whenever there's a screen (in any show i'm watching) i'll pause and check out the veracity. teen wolf had laughably fake web page mockups. and one thing i do recall noticing in this episode was real webpage urls! and even in the printouts which comes later. which they did not do consistently in spn seasons after this at all until much later

classic. truly. more smacks and shoves. it's okay, sammy. i also am a little bit of a control freak especially when it comes to computer stuff. JUST LET ME DO IT.

DEAN Monday. Right. The interview. SAM Yeah. DEAN Yeah, I forgot. You're really serious about this, aren't you? You think you're just going to become some lawyer? Marry your girl? SAM Maybe. Why not? DEAN Does Jessica know the truth about you? I mean, does she know about the things you've done? SAM No, and she's not ever going to know. DEAN Well, that's healthy. You can pretend all you want, Sammy. But sooner or later you're going to have to face up to who you really are.

dean's got a point there. which reminds me, did blurry wife know the truth? i remember there was some blurb about the story behind sam's kid having the anti-possession tattoo

wiki to the rescue

Though Sam's son has an anti-possession tattoo on his arm, there are no other signs of hunting in Sam's life after he leaves the Bunker. Jared confirmed at the November StageIt panel that Sam has not been hunting "in honor of Dean" because Dean wouldn't have wanted him to, but that Sam did tell his son about hunting and about his Uncle Dean, and that the decision to get the tattoo was Dean II's.

so probably yes?

(hands)

SAM And who's that? DEAN You're one of us. SAM No. I'm not like you. This is not going to be my life. DEAN You have a responsibility to— SAM To Dad? And his crusade? If it weren't for pictures I wouldn't even know what Mom looks like. And what difference would it make? Even if we do find the thing that killed her, Mom's gone. And she isn't coming back.

oh, sam. these early days he was chafing so hard against what other people wanted him to do. also relatable. and if only we knew about mary🥴

sam enjoying dean's predicament

SAM Salt, cat's eye shells…he was worried. Trying to keep something from coming in.

cat's eye shells?? don't think that ever got mentioned again

LOL okay, so the url isn't perfect 😂 missing forward slashes and no underscores in domain names, but they tried!!

huh. another family picture i don't recall seeing again. kind of backwards, longer brown hair on supposedly dean and short lighter hair on supposedly sam

so did dean grab john's leather jacket at this point? since he showered and changed in john's motel room. i hadn't thought about that. huh

SAM You can't kill me. I'm not unfaithful. I've never been! CONSTANCE You will be. Just hold me.

i know this comes up in fic periodically but i don't think that went anywhere, like the cat's eye shells

LOL i didn't remember that the woman in white resolution was her ghostly murdered children conveniently take her out

DEAN Hey, if we shag ass we could make it by morning. SAM Dean, I, um... DEAN You're not going. SAM The interview's in like, ten hours. I gotta be there. DEAN Yeah. Yeah, whatever. I'll take you home.

there's so many moments in this episode that i've seen in gifs and didn't realize were all from the pilot. but it's really interesting to me to see how like.. the show really kind of pushed how much dean needed/wanted sam and sam was resisting, and how i think it really set up dean as the more "likeable" character initially, along with showing off his pretty face and charm and all that. on a brain-characterization level, i always relate more to sam but i was definitely charmed by dean initially.

SAM Call me if you find him? SAM And maybe I can meet up with you later, huh? DEAN Yeah, all right. DEAN Sam? DEAN You know, we made a hell of a team back there. SAM Yeah.

the only thing that i think makes this episode not quite paced right is how they crammed jess dying at the end and the we've got work to do thing. it felt really rushed and slapped on. but other than that, what a great pilot. ranks up there with the hannibal pilot

[harpersplay]

Looking at the Emmy nominations and thinking about these articles by Nina Metz:

(1) Shouldn’t we want more from this portrait of a modern day robber baron grasping at the dying light of his reign as his blundering offspring clamber for position and a pat on the head? “Succession” isn’t glamorizing the brutal elitists of the world — there’s no mistaking showrunner Jesse Armstrong’s jabs; these are deeply unhappy people! — and of course they would be oblivious to the harm their petty, ego-driven actions have on anyone lower on the food chain. But the show mirrors that disinterest as well, and that’s what leaves me feeling so empty episode after episode.

[...]

Last week, someone emailed me to say, more or less, that TV and film don’t need to comment on anything. That’s true. And there’s nothing stopping you from engaging (or rather, not engaging) with “Succession” this way. But stories can, and in my view should, be many things at once — stand-alone entertainment and a reflection of how we think about the world around us. Sorting through these ideas only makes for a richer viewing experience, and if you’re uncomfortable with that, I don’t know what to tell you. But the people who make these stories — the writers, the actors, everyone — most assuredly talk about their work as if it has meaning. Why wouldn’t we, as audiences, take that as seriously as they do?

[...]

I come not to bury “Succession” nor to praise it, but to perpetually hope it will take up that messy space between paranoia and performative nonchalance. Between panic and adrenaline-fueled confidence. Between preening and obfuscation. These are people uncomfortable with their own humanity and never think twice about anyone else’s, and I often wonder about the subconscious effect of fiction that centers the point of view of the Roys of the world; even as they’re being satirized, they’re being elevated and treated with exquisite care by the writers. We laugh and cringe but also, who is being humanized? The white power brokers.

(source)

(2) The show’s driving force was the ongoing trauma doled out by a manipulative father and emotionally detached mother who left these siblings forever scrambling for validation, only to have it yanked from their grasp just when they think it’s within reach. They are incapable of keeping a secret long enough to surprise their adversary. They make the same mistakes, over and over. Can you not see their humanity? Can you not feel their anxieties? Who can keep a straight face watching these overindulged clowns slip on yet another banana peel?

How much of the show’s appeal was rooted in schadenfreude? They’re miserable, even with all that money — and hooboy, is it a lot of money. Why are they fighting over this company when they never even have to work?

Over four seasons, the series was filled with aspirational visuals, marvelous performances and biting-ridiculous interplay.

And yet, for me, “Succession” was a masterfully empty show. There was no room for anyone else but the Roys and their feelings.

That tunnel vision was by design and a nifty bit of deflection that provoked fan cams and weekly power rankings and questions of “who will end up on top???” because showrunner Jesse Armstrong had little interest in telling stories about anyone outside this family’s insular circle. There was no contrast — or anyone to meaningfully challenge to their worldview.

And that is “Succession’s” great fumble. As a show, it was too in love with the navel gazing of its central characters, becoming the equivalent of a closed room filling with carbon dioxide and muddling the ability to think straight. From a narrative standpoint, someone needed to open a window and let some air in.

[...]

You’re allowed to enjoy “Succession.” Liking or disliking the show isn’t a moral stance.

But it’s worth asking why so many prestige shows like “Succession” choose to center the concerns of fictional wealthy people while studiously avoiding a meaty critique of their influence.

(source)

(emphasis mine)

[attractive-nuisance-esq]

Here’s the thing: After 15x18 - after Castiel’s confession - I will be devastatingly heartbroken with any ending less than a full, explicitly romantic relationship between him and Dean.

Let’s be clear: If they hadn’t had Cas confess, I wouldn’t be terrified about what they’re going to give to us on Thursday night. We’d all made our peace with Destiel never going canon. We never, ever in a million years expected to actually get it. All of us shippers were content to live with what we got on screen, determined to see it live on in our fanfiction, with faith in the fandom to tell the story of Dean and Castiel. We were fine. We were excited! The ending of any show is a momentous occasion, but the ending of this one? With this fandom family? After this long? No matter what happened, it was going to be something we’d cherish forever.

Instead, in the third-to-last episode of all time, Supernatural gave us a confession of love from one of its most beloved characters to the hero of the story. And we all lost our minds. Quite rightfully! We never, ever thought it would happen - no matter how much sub there has been in the text over the last 12 years. You know why? Because of Disney.

We’re used to the Disney version of LGBTQ representation. The kind where about a month before a movie comes out, we see a flurry of articles published about how there will be a “gay character” in it - somehow always for the first time. And the character is always gay; nobody cares enough to draw any distinctions within the community. All of human sexuality that isn’t purely straight is purely gay. *cue the eyerolls* And maybe the first time we got a little excited. (Probably not, but go with me here for a sec.) Maybe for Beauty and the Beast, we thought, “Oh, LeFou was kind of a fun character in the cartoon version. Maybe it’ll be cool to see him have a crush!” But always and inevitably, the “representation” is one of two equally hurtful things: 1) the character’s sexuality is bluntly on display, but it’s a source of ridicule for the person, and the audience is encouraged to laugh at it “with” the character (o hai, LeFou); or 2) the scene is less than two seconds long, or the character is unnamed, or the circumstances of the “representation” are such that they can easily be cut from the project for foreign audiences or swept under the rug in the minds of viewers who’d rather not admit that queer people exist (what up, Star Wars and Endgame?).

And that shit really fucking hurts. We’re told to shut up and be grateful, even enthusiastic that mainstream fiction media noticed we’re here at all. But we’re never main characters. Our stories are never told. This part of our identity is not only left unexplored; it is so exploited for woke points as to be made the single most defining thing about us. It’s offensive, over and over again, to have us included solely because of how we are different.

It fucking hurts.

Things are changing, slowly. We’re starting to get some deeper, three-dimensional representation in television and film. It’s not all starting out in 2005 on the same network that brought us 7th Heaven anymore. My niece is 14-years-old and out, and she will never remember a time when she had to scour the Internet to see queer versions of her favorite characters; she just has them. But all of us adults, well... chances are, our journeys have the potential to look a lot like Dean’s. We didn’t get to come out in high school. We didn’t let our younger selves think too hard about what we knew in our hearts would make us happy. It took us longer to arrive at a place of security and safety in order to be able to admit to ourselves and others who we are. Hell, the whole damn process of recognizing human sexuality is fluid might have taken us years!

Us queer adults - the ones who have been watching and loving Supernatural for longer than its younger audience - can now taste the possibility of seeing something that probably looks a lot like our very own romantic and personal experiences in Dean Winchester. We’ve been celebrating bi!Dean for years on our own, picking up the crumbs the writers give us and clutching them tightly, because what a gift it would be to see this good man, this hero as one of our own! And now... we’re so close to actually seeing it. On screen. For real and for sure.

These last two weeks have been incredibly difficult. We’re ecstatic! Wildly so! What other kind of reaction would we have to the writers allowing Castiel to admit these feelings we’ve all thought would only ever exist in our heads? But we are equally anxious, wary, and - quite frankly - battling hopelessness. Supernatural doesn’t have a great track record with these things. Everyone on Tumblr - even those that don’t watch this show - is well aware that this one is the master of queerbaiting. And then there’s Disney banging around in our skulls, a psychological trauma sounding again like an alarm. We’ve been burned so many times before, by other mainstream media and by Supernatural itself. It feels crazy to hope. I don’t know how many times I’ve watched the confession scene; I still can’t believe it’s real. A male-shaped main character said “I love you” to another male-shaped main character. It can’t be cut out and ignored, or brushed aside as platonic. It wasn’t a joke at the expense of queerness. It happened. It was big, and it was right there.

And now we are so, so close. Fuck.

That’s why if Supernatural doesn’t follow through and give us Dean and Cas unequivocally in love in the final 42 minutes of this beautiful, ridiculous, wonderful, preposterous, absolutely WILD show, it’ll just completely fucking break me. It will be the worst kind of tease, the deepest cut buried in the briniest salt. If they hadn’t given us Castiel’s confession, we’d have no expectations. But they did. And now, if they don’t deliver after all that’s been said and done...

...it will utterly shatter my fragile little bisexual heart into a million fucking pieces.

[heauxplesslydevoted]

Three’s Company

Summary: Naomi goes to lunch with the newest member of the diagnostic’s team.

A/N: Listen, I will not rest until Tobias and Ethan are friends again.

~v~

“It’s not going to be as bad as you’re making it out to be, Ethan. Above all else, Tobias Carrick is a doctor and a professional.”

Ethan resists the urge to roll his eyes at his girlfriend. This situation isn’t her fault, and it’s not like Naomi can help the fact that she’s optimistic. He still huffs under his breath though. “Being a doctor isn’t synonymous with being a professional. Trust me, Tobias is nothing of the sort.”

The news of Tobias Carrick not only coming to Edenbrook but also joining the diagnostics team hasn’t been well received. On top of a pretty tense exchange between Bloom and Ethan, Harper also made it known that she wasn’t a fan, thankfully not as outwardly as Ethan had.

Naomi however, has remained neutral. She doesn’t have history with Tobias like Harper and Ethan do, only knowing him through their biased second hand accounts. Ethan grumbled that he’s arrogant–though the same can be said about him as well–and selfish, but Naomi isn’t one to judge someone without knowing them. And besides, he pitched in to help save her last year, so for the time being, Tobias Carrick has a few brownie points with her.

“You’re being dramatic. He’s been a doctor as long as you have, he went to the same prestigious medical school that you did–”

“He graduated at number two,” Ethan interjects.

At that dig, Naomi huffs. “You’re being ridiculous. And petty, for no reason.”

“Bloom went over our heads and hired him, so I’m automatically suspicious. I apologize for not believing this wasn’t done specifically to annoy me.”

Naomi can concede to it being a bit suspicious, but she isn’t going to admit to this conspiracy of all roads leading back to Ethan. She’s not going to needlessly feed into his ego and rile him up.

The two of them continue their trek throughout the halls of Edenbrook in silence, their fingers loosely interlocked the entire way there. Naomi revels in it, because she knows it’s the calm before the storm.

Before they cross the threshold to the office, Naomi stops Ethan in his tracks. She cranes her head back so they can look each other in the eye. “Listen, like it or not, Tobias is here, and until he does something that warrants your hostility, at least be cordial. Our patients don’t deserve us at anything less than our best.”

Ethan pinches the bridge of his nose, and silently counts to three, attempting to steel himself.

“Fine.”

“Thank you.” Raising their joined hands, Naomi brushes a fleeting kiss across his knuckles. “Now stop pouting, Ramsey, we have work to do.”

Ethan untangles their hands only to open the door for Naomi. Once she steps inside she’s greeted with the sight of Tobias fiddling with Ethan’s coffee maker. He looks and flashes them a sly smile. “Mornin’, lovebirds! Ready to get to diagnosing?”

Ethan flashes Naomi a quick look. This is going to be a long day indeed.

~v~

So Tobias’s first day with the team wasn’t smooth sailing like Naomi wanted. Ethan and Harper made it clear that his former friend and roommate wasn’t wanted anywhere near the team, whether it be through passive aggressive eye rolls, thinly-veiled exasperated sighs, or outright aggression via Ethan that spiraled into a tense argument. Naomi remained neutral, corralling all of the attention back to the task at hand: helping their patient.

Naomi isn’t interested in spending another day babysitting these grown adults, so hopefully day 2 is a lot more smooth.

And so far, she seems to be getting her wish. Morning tasks were distributed without a fight, and after their morning huddle, Harper went downstairs to prep for a surgery she has coming up later. The remaining 3 members of the team are all in their own little corners of the office, Ethan typing away on his laptop, Tobias lounging on the couch, and Naomi sitting at their large desk, a pile of books and printed copies of online articles all spread out in front of her.

The words are all starting to blur together, her focus slipping away with each second that ticks on. Being in the office isn’t doing anything for her creativity or brainstorming power. She needs a break.

Naomi closes her textbook and pushes out of her seat, tired of studying. She makes her way over to Ethan’s desk, observing his hunched shoulders and the deep line between his brows. She rounds his desk until she’s standing directly in his line of vision. “You know what? I think it’s time to take a break. How about you and I get out of here and get something to eat?”

Ethan tears his eyes away from his computer screen long enough to look at Naomi. He frowns softly. “I’m sorry, but I’ll have to take a raincheck. On top of the actual work I have to do for this team, Leland is demanding that I put together a presentation for the board meeting at the end of the week.”

“About what?”

“About the team. Cost versus benefit, outcomes, methodology, etc. Basically, he wants me to sell the diagnostics team to him all over again.”

“Sucks to be the boss at times?”

“De facto boss,” Ethan corrects. “Remember, this team is supposed to be a democracy now. Anyway, I want to get this presentation done as quickly as I can so I can stop thinking about it.”

“I could go for some lunch,” the third person in the room speaks up. Naomi and Ethan both turn around and see Tobias staring back at them. “Oh sorry, am I interrupting the private conversation the two of you are trying to have in our communal workspace?”

“What do you want, Carrick?”

Tobias’s eyes bounce back and forth between the couple. “Naomi wants to escape these four walls and get food. You aren’t available, and I am.” He shrugs. “What are you in the mood for, Valentine? I could go for some Italian, and there’s a good place a few blocks from here.”

“She’s not going to lunch with you,” Ethan grits out possessively. 

Naomi’s head whips around faster than she can stop herself. Since when did he get to make decisions on her behalf, especially when it’s not work related?

A small smirk settles on Tobias’s face. Naomi’s physical response to Ethan’s declaration does not go unnoticed by him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know your name was also Naomi Valentine. Whatever the case, I wasn’t speaking to you.”

“Naomi doesn’t–”

“Naomi doesn’t need an advocate to speak on her behalf because she’s an adult,” Naomi interjects sharply.

Whether she wants to accept or decline Tobias’s invitation to lunch, it’s her decision to make, not Ethan’s. His tumultuous relationship with Tobias is not her burden to bear, and he’s not going to force it upon her.

And just to prove it to him, Naomi turns around, her full attention back on Tobias, eyes alight with defiance. “You know what? Italian sounds delicious.”

~v~

20 minutes later, the unlikely duo is nestled into a corner booth of the Italian restaurant Tobias suggested. It’s a nice family owned joint that is currently experiencing a lunch rush. Every inch of the place is bustling with activity, the aromatic smell of sautéed garlic fills the air, soft music playing in the background. And while Naomi has yet to try the food, the restaurant is warm and inviting, and she likes it.

“You know, I’m really shocked you decided to take me up on my offer,” Tobias says, cutting into Naomi’s silent appraisal of their surroundings.

“I wasn’t going to turn down a free meal,” Naomi responds smoothly.

“A free meal?”

“Of course. You invited yourself, so you’re paying, Dr. Carrick. I’m thinking of ordering dessert, too.”

An easygoing smile tugs at the corners of her mouth as she speaks, and Tobias laughs. “I meant it because loverboy wasn’t too happy with it.”

“As much as I respect Ethan’s opinions on things, they don’t dictate my life. His issues with you have nothing to do with me, and if you think you can use me as a pawn to piss him off further, I’d advise you to think again.”

This young woman is brazen and full of sass. Tobias likes it. “It wasn’t my intention, I swear. It’s no secret that I’m not a welcomed member of the team, and you happen to be the only one who doesn’t roll your eyes or sneer whenever I speak. You are the closest thing I have to an...acquaintance, I guess.”

Naomi’s defenses deflate slightly at his shocking display of earnestness. She was expecting some display of bravado from the attending, so this has thrown her for a loop.

Tobias is nervous. She picks up on that energy almost instantly.

“Well like I said, their issues with you have nothing to do with me. I try to give everyone a fair shake.”

“I can respect that.”

“But in the interest of said fair shake, you have to answer a question for me. What are you doing here?”

“Here, in this restaurant?”

“At Edenbrook,” Naomi clarifies. “Kenmore is a level one trauma center, it was saved from getting snuffed out when it merged with Solomon, you guys stole my research candidate which brought in a lot of grant money. You had a decent gig there, so why did you come to Edenbrook? Why did you accept a position on Ethan’s team?”

Tobias shrugs. “I hit my threshold at Kenmore. I was at the top of the food chain, I had seen everything there was to see, done everything there was to do. I was...bored and restless. Edenbrook got injected with new blood, everything is new and exciting. Bloom said he wanted to take the team to new heights, and he offered me more money than I know what to do with to be a part of the vision.”

“Okay so who’s to say you’ll be satisfied just being a member of the team? How do I know you won’t attempt to stage a coup and take Ethan’s position?”

“Relax, sweetheart, I’m not gunning for your boyfriend’s spot.”

“Don’t call me sweetheart. There’s no need to be condescending.”

“I apologize. But Ethan’s spot on the team is safe. I don’t need Leland breathing down my neck and micromanaging me the way he does Ethan.”

Naomi’s eyes roam his face. He doesn’t have any tells, no eye shifting or twitching, no sudden movements with his hands or mouth, he doesn’t fidget in his seat. She has no reason to believe he’s lying, so she takes him at his word. “Okay.”

“Any other burning questions?”

“Why aren’t you and Ethan friends?”

Tobias doesn’t immediately answer, opting to take his sweet time to think on it. He pulls his lip in-between his teeth, before shrugging. “We’re too similar. Too driven, too ambitious, too stubborn. Two people can only go on the same path for so long before a collision happens.”

“It got ugly because you two wanted the same girl?”

Tobias scoffs. The faceless woman that he was adamant that he was in love with is at the bottom of his list of concerns. “She was just the tip of the iceberg.”

That manages to catch her interest. Naomi sits up in her seat and leans forward slightly. “So what happened?”

Naomi can see the exact moment that Tobias withdraws from the conversation. His posture gets stiff again and he averts his gaze.

“Okay, riddle me this, Carrick,” Naomi continues. “Ethan told me he reached out to you after you had your falling out, but you rebuffed him. Is that part true?”

“He called and asked if we could talk, I said no. I didn’t hear from him again until everything happened with Leland last year.”

“You didn’t want to make amends?”

Making amends and having his old friend back did sound nice once upon a time, but being friends with Ethan again means being in his shadow again. And that’s what led them to this whole thing in the first place. Tobias sighs and scrubs his hand across his jaw. He came here to eat a plate of ravioli and maybe annoy Ethan, not pour his heart out. What is it about Naomi Valentine and those big brown eyes of hers that makes him want to twist himself inside out and spill his guts? Is she some sort of siren?

“Making amends means I’d have to own up to my wrongdoings. I’d have to swallow the fact that I torpedoed our friendship,” Tobias confesses before he even realizes the words are out of his mouth. “Admitting fault and being vulnerable isn’t my strong suit.”

She doesn’t mean to, but Naomi giggles. And that giggle turns into a laugh. A loud one that attracts the attention of a few patrons, a hard feat to accomplish in the middle of a bustling restaurant, but she does it with ease.

“I’m sorry,” Naomi says once she finally calms down. She takes a deep breath before continuing. “God, no wonder you two were best friends. You are just as emotionally constipated as Ethan.”

“Emotionally constipated?” Tobias’s eyebrows shoot to his hairline at the blunt statement. And once the shock wears off, he laughs along with. “Touché, Valentine. Touché.”

~v~

Across the way, at the bar on the other side of the dining room, Ethan watches as his girlfriend and his former friend carry on like two bosom buddies. 

Ethan decided to follow them approximately 10 minutes after they left, sheer curiosity getting the better of him. Before he could stop himself, he was in his car and at the restaurant, seated far enough away from them so he’s out of their line of vision, but close enough to see.

Naomi is in the zone, talking excitedly and Tobias sits there, soaking it all up like what she says and does is gospel. Their friendly interaction stirs irritation in the pit of his stomach, but it’s when Naomi lets out a boisterous laugh does he reach his limit. Ethan’s grip on the small tumbler in his hand tightens, and it’s a miracle he doesn’t end up with a million tiny shards of glass in his palm.

What on earth has Tobias said to make Naomi laugh like that? And why is he laughing with her?

Ethan doesn’t like it one bit, for a multitude of reasons. He doesn’t like other men being around Naomi–it’s ridiculous and sexist of him to feel this way, but Ethan is a possessive caveman, and he makes no bones about it. Seeing her actually laughing with Carrick of all people and enjoying his company makes him want to throw the drink ware he’s currently holding.

Deciding enough is enough, Ethan slams the glass down onto the bar and stands up. After dropping a $20 bill on the counter he makes his way over to Naomi and Tobias, unadulterated jealousy and alcohol fueling every step.

Tobias notices him first, and he jerks his head in Ethan’s general direction in order to get Naomi’s attention. She turns around and her eyes go wide at the sight of Ethan.

“Ethan? What are you doing here?”

“I was in the neighborhood.”

Now her eyes are narrowed. “You finished that big presentation you had to work on?”

Ethan sniffs haughtily. Leave it to her to throw that back in his face. “I decided that a break was okay.”

“And you coincidentally ended up at this restaurant?”

“Yup.”

Naomi stands up, muttering a quick “excuse me,” in Tobias’s direction and grabs Ethan’s hand, pulling him away. They nestle into a quiet corner of the restaurant, far away from the table, closer to the kitchen. The door constantly swings open and closed, as the waitstaff goes in and out.

Once they get a moment of quiet, Naomi glares at Ethan, the expression on her face nothing short of annoyed. “Are you spying on me? Because spying on me implies that you don’t trust me.”

“What? Of course I trust you!”

“So what are you doing here, Ethan?”

Ethan bites the inside of his cheek and rocks on the balls of his feet. “Okay, so I was spying.” Naomi opens her mouth to say something, but Ethan beats her to the punch. “It’s not because I don’t trust you! It’s him that I don’t trust.”

“Tobias has been nothing short of a gentleman,” Naomi says and Ethan snorts. “He’s acting a lot of a lot more mature than you are, I can say that much.”

“That’s not fair.”

“No, what’s not fair is you treating him like he’s a criminal when he’s given you no reason to do so.”

“He’s given me plenty of reason, Naomi!”

“The last time we saw Tobias, I was near death and he helped save my life,” Naomi says, and that’s more than enough to get Ethan to shut up.

Ethan’s heart slams against his rib cage with enough force to make him think the organ is trying to leave his body. Months have passed since the assassination attempt, but the mention of it is enough to cause Ethan to go into a panic.

“And the time before that, we stole a patient right out from under him, and before that we got into a fight at a freaking hospital softball game,” Naomi continues. “You haven’t been all good, and he hasn’t been all bad, so stop pretending to have the moral high ground.”

“This past year, you made a lot of strides in your personal life. You battled a lot with your mom, but you came out of it, a more well rounded individual, so do not let Tobias’s presence cause you to backslide. I’m not saying he has to be your best friend, but I refuse to tolerate this type of nonsense past today.”

He takes a moment to digest what she’s saying, begrudgingly of course because he doesn’t really want to admit that he hasn’t been behaving like the mature, adult professional that he usually is.

Ethan nods and places a kiss on Naomi’s forehead, his lips lingering there.

“Are you listening to me?”

Ethan kisses the apples of her cheeks, inwardly smirking as he feels Naomi smile. “I promise you that I’ll keep myself in check from now on.”

“And if you don’t, I will.”

The threat causes Ethan to lose focus. She clearly doesn’t mean it in a seductive way, but he can’t help that his brain instantly goes to the gutter when she’s involved. Now he wants nothing more than to be alone with her, with any flat surface readily available.

“Yes ma’am,” Ethan murmurs before capturing her lips with his own.

Naomi doesn’t allow herself to get swept up in the kiss, because she knows Ethan is using it to distract her. She untangles herself from his grip and pulls away before he’s able to get any more leverage.

“Can we go back to the office now?” Ethan asks.

“Absolutely not. I came here to have lunch, so we’re having lunch.”

Ethan frowns. “You still want to go through with this?”

“I didn’t come here to teach you a lesson, and I’m actually enjoying Tobias’s company, so I’m staying. And you’re staying here too.”

“No.”

“You followed me here, you don’t have a choice.”

Ethan reluctantly follows Naomi back to the table, where Tobias is studying the menu. He doesn’t even look up when he hears footsteps approaching. “I’m debating on if I want the ravioli or the chicken parm, which one–” his voice falters as he sees Ethan.

“Look who’s decided to join us for lunch!” Naomi says brightly, steamrolling over the building tension. She pushes Ethan into an empty chair, not giving him a second to turn away.

Tobias opens his mouth to object, “But–”

“I’m going to head to the restroom,” Naomi says. “And one of you guys is ordering me a limoncello, because Tobias is treating.”

She flounces off, not giving either man a chance to respond or argue with her.

Tobias laughs. “Is she always like this? So bossy?”

“Naomi is unapologetically assertive,” Ethan corrects. “She makes no bones about it.”

“The scary part about it is I’m 100 percent going to order her a limoncello, because she’s not the type of person you say no to.”

This time it’s Ethan’s turn to laugh. It’s nice to know he’s not the only unsuspecting sap that cannot say no when Naomi turns on her charm.

Once the laughter tapers off, the former friends are plunged into silence. Ethan checks the time on his watch, watching the seconds stretch on. He needs Naomi to come back. Seriously, how long does it take to use the restroom? He spares a quick glance at Tobias, who’s pointedly not making eye contact with him either.

Eventually Tobias speaks up, “Look, I didn’t come to Edenbrook to cause any trouble. It was a once in a lifetime opportunity that came with more money than I could count.”

“Naveen started this team with the most honorable of intentions,” Ethan says. “This was his life’s work, and he entrusted me with it. You cannot possibly understand the loyalty I have to him, so forgive me if I’m extremely protective over it and skeptical of your motives, which haven’t always been pure.”

“I’m just here to save lives, and work on the most fascinating medical cases of our generation. I know how important this team is, and I’d never intentionally disrespect Naveen like that.”

Ethan nods. That’s all he can really ask of Tobias. “Then I guess we’re good.”

“Good.”

“Great.”

Another beat of silence passes and Tobias awkwardly drums his fingers along the stem of his water glass. “So...you and Valentine?”

The question is out of left field and Ethan’s brows furrow in confusion. “Uh, yeah, me and Valentine.”

“I like her,” Tobias says definitively. When Ethan glares at him, Tobias rolls his eyes. “Not like that. Relax, I get it loud and clear that she’s off limits. Besides, I know you’re head over heels in love with her.”

A scarlet flush creeps up Ethan’s neck at Tobias’s matter of fact declaration. “Love? I’m...we don’t...I don’t–”

Tobias smirks. “Oh man. You’ve got it bad.”

That much, Ethan is willing to share. “Yeah, I do.”

“Naomi did say we’re both emotionally constipated, and that blubbering you just did proves her point,” Tobias teases. “But don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”

The L-word has floated around in the back of Ethan’s mind for months, but he’s always been able to squash it down, locking it away in the deepest recesses of his brain. But hearing someone else say it is something entirely different. Ethan can’t run away from the thought.

Tobias has known since last year. He suspected something when Ethan came to defense during the softball game, but it was confirmed as soon as he saw them together after the incident with the senator. He had never seen Ethan so out of sorts, not even when they competed for the affections of the same woman back in school. Naomi is different. She has the power to bring Ethan to his knees.

“I hope you know that you’re punching way above your weight with that one,” Tobias adds teasingly.

It’s something Ethan thinks about constantly. Naomi could do so much better than him, but every day she chooses him. “Absolutely.”

“And for what it’s worth, she’s just as much into you. The woman gives you heart eyes whenever you’re around. It’s disgusting, to be quite frank.”

The sentence warms Ethan from the inside out. He’ll never get over knowing Naomi wants him just as much as he wants her.

Thankfully Naomi chooses that moment to come back to the table, giving the men something else to focus their attention on. She settles into a seat next to Ethan, and he immediately wraps an arm around her, his fingertips stroking her arm. Tobias observes the fleeting moment of intimacy with a private smile.

Naomi’s eyes flicker back and forth between the men. “Everything okay over here?”

Tobias and Ethan both look at each other, a silent moment of understanding passing between them. Ethan nods. “Everything is fine.”

Naomi smiles. Maybe there’s hope for them yet. “Good. Now let’s flag down a waiter and get some food.”

~v~

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[eirikaanemo]

Venti’s a Superhero (GN)

1) You’re in law enforcement

The two of you have a pretty typical hero-officer relationship. He catches the supervillains, you cart them off to prison. It’s not a big deal and you don’t think much of it.

Or, rather, you wouldn’t if your co-workers would just leave things be. However, they keep pushing you to be the one to interact with him. Something about him liking to work with you specifically, which is ridiculous.

Sure he does flirt with you and drops the cheesiest pick up lines ever. And sure, he does smile a lot when you’re around. But it’s not like he’s serious about it, right? He jokes around by flirting with villains after all, so how do you know this isn’t a joke too?

It’s honestly kind of hard on you because you’ve found yourself falling for him. Who wouldn’t, honestly? He’s strong, charming, and just a really nice guy. It has nothing to do with the way he laughs at your stupid jokes or protected you fiercly the couple of times you were specifically targeted in an attack.

But when he shows up in front of the police station with a ukelele and sings you a cheesy love song he apparently wrote himself, you have to face the truth. He does, in fact, actually like you. The flirting was playful, not pretended. The cute superhero guy actually likes you back.

It’s kind of overwhelming honestly. So when he asks you on a date right after you’re kind of speechless. His face falls when you apparently take too long to respond and you have to chase after him as he walks away, dejected, to reassure him that yes, you’d love to go on a date with him.

“Why did you decide to wear your superhero costume on our date again?” You ask him, hyper aware of all the stares that the two of you are getting. The press are at the cafe doors, only kept out by threat of legal action from the owner of the establishment. Thank goodness they’re apparently a big fan of Venti and the work he does. Also, Venti is apparently a regular here. Who knew?

He takes a sip of his dandelion tea and glances out at the press nervously. “Well, I guess I’m just worried about doing an identity reveal for our first date. I was thinking maybe third or something.” You blink and a smile spreads across your face. “Oh? So you want there to be a third date before our first date is even over?” You tease him. His face flushes red. “Yeah,” he admits. “I can’t picture myself with anyone else. I’ve fallen for you and I can’t get up.”

2) You’re a journalist

You have always loved superheroes. They’re just so cool! Someone with a secret identity working a double life to serve and save the people around them? How awesome is that! And so when you move to Mondstadt and found out that they have their very own superhero, Barbatos, you are absolutely thrilled!

And, even better, your boss knows about your love of superheroes and assigns you to be the journalist representing the company on superhero related matters- including Barbatos!

So you take to your new task with gusto! This is exactly why you became a journalist! You will get all the best scoops and make your company proud. And if this involves showing up at all his fights and following him on patrol, well, that’s just doing your job, right?

Meanwhile, Venti, or Barbatos, is starting to be seriously concerned about your mental and physical health. Are you obsessed? Is this hyperfixation unhealthy for you? Are you overworking yourself? What if you get hurt from one of his fights? What is he supposed to do in this situation?

In the end, he decides to take a minute to talk to you about it during his regular patrol. He’s relieved to find out that yes, you are okay, and that you’re really just a super big fan. Eventually talking to you becomes a habit.

As time passes, you start putting less and less private details into your articles and stick to more public knowledge and juicy bits you get from battles and about villains. The stuff he tells you on patrol stays with you as the two of you get to know each other better. Soon you’re good friends, and maybe are edging into more.

It was a night almost like any other, except for how it wasn’t. This time he’d picked you up, bridal style, and flew both of you up onto a rooftop. Now the two of you are taking a well deserved rest stargazing together. “And there’s sagittarius,” you point to a constellation in the sky. You were fascinated with stars a couple years ago and had a wealth of information you could share with him.

“Sagittarius, huh?” He murmured. “Right there?” Now he was pointing at it too.

“Not quite,” you reply. You wrap a hand around the hand he’s pointing with and adjust it’s direction. “Right there.”

When you don’t get a response, you turn and look at him, only to find him as red as the apples he loves so much. It seems to get even worse when he notices you looking and he stutters a bit before he is finally able to spit out what he’s been trying to say for weeks.

“I really, really like you.”

3) You’re a fellow superhero

You are a superhero called Torque who has total control over cars. Your weapon arsenal consists of fifteen different toy cars that you can shrink and grow at will and use to knock villains off their feet. Sure they have more tricks to them, but you can’t give all your secrets away, can you?

Your specialty is evacuation, but you’re also good at keeping supervillains on their toes. Getting run over by cars doesn’t tend to be fun. So you can distract them from the other hero they are fighting. Because of this you make excellent back up and are often on call.

He is better in combat situations because of his aerokinesis. His abilities make him great for emergency response because he can get to the fights quickly and take immediate, safe action. The level of control he has makes him incredibly versatile too.

The two of you end up working together very often. He will show up early with you coming in not too long after. You will take over evacuation and protecting the citizens, allowing him to completely focus on the villain. As soon as you’re done evacuating, you join in the frey.

Your teamwork is legendary among the hero community and you’re a very popular duo in the eyes of the citizens. Famous for prioritizing civilian safety and quick takedowns, you’re effective and efficient. So far as most anyone knows, you’re just good friends, despite 80% of your fanbase shipping you.

In reality though, you’re already married. It’s a secret because you don’t want your identities to be compromised and your different relationship levels in and out of costume add another layer of safety to your disguises. If they knew, though, they would love how domestic the two of you are at home.

You slip into your home through the window. A relieved sigh escapes your lips as you close the window behind you, only for you to nearly shriek as someone suddenly wraps their arms around your waist and blows in your ear. Venti laughs from behind you. “Ehe, you’re always so fun to surprise.”

He smiles into your shoulder and holds you unusually close. The smile seems a little strained. “Today was close, are you okay?” He asks you. Oh. He’s talking about how you almost got hit today. Usually you’re fast enough to avoid hits like that, but you got distracted while evacuating and almost didn’t see it coming. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, so be more careful, okay?”

4) You’re a hostage he saves

The two of you know nothing about each other at the time. You’re a regular citizen of Mondstadt who was going about their business as normal until you got kidnapped.

It all went so fast. One moment you were walking down the street, the next you were being held hostage with a knife to your throat. While you’re terrified, he rescues you as quickly as the villain got you.

There’s just something special about being saved by a superhero. As someone who had been crushing on him for a while even before being rescued, it was all a bit too much for you to comprehend.

He happens to have just the biggest crush on you out of costume, not that he ever planned to tell you. But there was something special about being able to save you, being your hero.

If either of you thought your crush couldn’t get worse, you were dead wrong. The media is all over it, spinning dramatic love stories about how he’d apparently been especially careful with you and you’d given him the look.

You start following news about him more frequently and he keeps a special eye on you the times he happens to spot you on patrol. Daydreams about each other are more common now and your mutual pining reaches new levels.

You hear a sharp rap as something hits your window. It continues for a couple time before you get curious enough to check out what’s going on. Apparently someone’s been throwing rocks at your window. Opening the window, you peer down to see who’s there and nearly get hit in the face. Thankfully, Barbatos catches the rock before it hits you.

“Whoops, sorry,” he apologizes. “I didn’t mean to almost hit you. I was just trying to get your attention.” He pulls a bouquet of flowers from behind his back, cecilias. “I got this for you! Hopefully you like it as much as I like you!” The blush dusting his cheeks has nothing on the warmth that covers your face. Are you sure you are not dreaming?

[newtonsheffield]

I have this idea in my head since the update on friday of Matthew coming along to one of Edwina‘s photoshoots? would that ever happen? if so I would love to hear about it! lots of love to you & thank you for all your hard work!

Ohhhh I love this! Because I truly believe that Matthew Goose Bagwell is Edwina Sheffield’s number one fan! He is out there taking selfies next to her billboards and sending them to Edwina like “I love seeing you everywhere”. And Edwina pretends to be a little embarrassed but secretly she thinks it’s really sweet that he cares so much. Let’s explore a little more!

Edwina wasn’t embarrassed by the fact that she was a model. It was just that when people met her they had a preformed opinion about who she would be. They thought she’d be a little vapid, and self obsessed, and be well... empty headed might be the best term for it. And even her previous boyfriends hadn’t expected much of her. Looking back they’d really just wanted her to look pretty, never asking her any opinions, never asking her for anything other than a picture, loving the photographers that took pictures of them as they left restaurants smiling and posing happily. And then She’d met Matthew. And he hadn’t even recognised who she was, didn’t have an instagram and seemed, if anything more than a little embarrassed when the first gossip column came out a few weeks after they had started dating, England’s rose Edwina Sheffield (27) was out and about with a new beaux at a restaurant in mayfair last night. Sheffield appeared very smitten with her unnamed new gentleman. And may we say: What a gentleman he is! If anyone knows who this handsome young nerd daddy is please let us know! And Pass along a phone number or two!  the picture of them together, their fingers interlocked as Edwina pushed lightly through the crowd with a light smile on her face Matthew smiling as well, his eyes locked on her. I’m really sorry, Matt, about all this. She’d said looking down at the article and very unfairly she’d waited for him to do what all of her other boyfriends had done and he’d shrugged and said At least they called me a... nerd daddy? That’s... good right? And Laughter had bubbled in Edwina’s chest as she stood on her tip toes to kiss the tip of his nose I think it’s very good. 

 Matthew had to admit, he was more than a little curious about Edwina’s career. It had seemed so far removed from his own life when he’d done a quick google of her after he’d had the realisation that he’d just flirted, albeit very nervously, with one of the country’s most recognisable faces. And he did know who Edwina Sheffield was, he just hadn’t really expected to see her... at a museum... with a very adorable baby dressed as a triceratops, looking very beautiful but so absolutely normal in her soft sweater and sneakers. And it seemed like every day she did something that surprised him with how normal she was. Like when she complained about having to sit in hair and make up for hours, or when she told him she hated the regimen her PT had her on or when she complained about the price of coconut milk at Sainsbury’s. Of course this only meant he was even more surprised when she did something that reminded him who she was. Like when they were watching Kilmartin, (Which Matthew liked for the historical element not because he had a crush on Francesca Bridgerton and he’d seen everything she’d ever done) 2 weeks into their relationship, her legs thrown over his, and she said Oh! Frankie told me about this! She said it was absolutely freezing in that lake. Michael nearly lost a toe. And Matthew had startled Frankie?! You know Francesca Bridgerton?! Edwina had looked at him, her eyes a little wide and said slowly... Yes? Her brother is married to my sister? And he’d felt stupid again, his cheeks going a little red when she suddenly gasped Oh My goodness Matt! Do you have a crush on Frankie?!  laughter bubbling from her chest delighted as he tried to vehemently deny it his cheeks getting steadily redder as she kissed his cheek Matt, It’s fine. I think it’s very sweet! And Frankie is a very worthy celebrity crush. She’s very pretty and very nice! So yes, he was curious about what Edwina did all day, the process behind it, everything. And so he’d asked one night, his head cushioned against her stomach her hands running through his hair, her profile a little blurry without his glasses What’s it like? Modelling I mean? And a small crease had formed between her eyebrows as she’d considered It’s fun? I get to dress up and look really pretty, and it gives me a chance to talk about something important and there’s music on set and I really like it. But I know it’s stupid because I’m not doing anything important. And Matthew had cut her off Firstly, you look really pretty all the time, secondly, it’s not stupid to enjoy what you do. I bet you’re amazing, I’d love to see it. And she’d looked surprised as she’d sealed their lips together.

Matthew had been nervous as he’d walked up to what looked like a fairly nondescript warehouse. Edwina had responded to his query as to her lunch plans with I’m at a shoot come meet me and we’ll go out after!😘 An address underneath. He slid open the door of the warehouse and a woman with a clipboard tutted at him, Sir this is a closed set. He’d run his hands nervously through his hair and said Umm I’m Matthew Bagwell ahh Edwina Sheffield’s umm...  And the woman’s eyes had widened Oh! Matthew! Eddie’s boyfriend, she’s been waiting for you come have a seat she’s almost done. And Matthew had felt an odd surge of pride that Edwina had referred to him as her boyfriend as she followed the woman towards the back of the warehouse, music growing louder a song he barely recognised Sit still, Look Pretty maybe? and as he rounded the corner his breath caught. Edwina looked absolutely stunning her hair swept up, her make up dramatic, but the most stunning part was how happy she looked, laughing at something the woman flitting around her resetting her hair and make up was saying the photographer was giving soft directions to her, and she was nodding gently, barely paying attention. Matthew! She called leaping from her position when she saw him wrapping her arms tightly around him her lips brushing his cheek briefly Everyone this is Matt, isn’t he so handsome?!  She said laughing as he looked embarrassed, She ushered him into a seat by the photographer We’re almost done, She said practically floating back to her position. And then the action started, the smile gone from her face and she was... incredible. She oozed confidence and charm, she was graceful and poised and just stunning and he couldn’t stop staring at her, his chest surging with pride. A voice hummed by his side She’s amazing right?  Matthew’s eyes flicked to the makeup woman his voice a little breathless as he said Yeah she is And the woman seemed to eye him very carefully, sternly almost in a way that made him very nervous You must be special. Eddie never brings boys to work. Not like some of the other girls. Matthew felt a jolt of surprise, pride as the woman continued We all Love Edwina, she’s so lovely. You better be good to her. And Matthew’s eyes widened in surprise nodding enthusiastically I really like Eddie, I think she’s incredible. Edwina’s gaze caught his and he got a little thrill as she smirked at him, sending him a little wink. And at the end of the shoot when the photographer said That’s a wrap Eddie, Thanks!  Matthew couldn’t help from standing and giving her a round of applause, a ridiculously proud smile on his face and he thought that he wouldn’t mind being Mr Edwina Sheffield for the rest of his life.

This got very long and I’m so sorry!  And thank you to you for reading!

[theonewiththefanfics]

Because Hearts Get Broken - I Know That You’re Scared (Part 2/3)

Continuation of ‘Because Hearts Get Broken’ - see my masterlist for it :)

Synopsis: She’s trying to move on. He’s still hoping for a chance

Pairing: Harry Styles x fem!Reader

Genre: angsty, bruh, but with a sprinkle of fluff and a hopeful (??) ending

Warnings: swearing, emotionally distant mindset... can’t think of anything else, really. 

Word count: 3656

Heartbreak isn’t loud. Y/N doesn’t even know if it had a sound what it would be like. Like glass shattering against the ground? Or maybe like a book being ripped and shredded apart, memories of time spent together ruined. Or maybe it'd like the crackle of a fire, as it slowly but surely crept up and turned everything into charred remains before it became nothing but ash and was carried away by the winds.

        No one in her family talked about feelings. If they did all they received back was ‘suck it up. That’s life’. After that, it was time to move on. So, when she got together with probably the most open-hearted person in the world, it was almost laughable.

        Y/N had always been the friend others went for advice, relationship or not, but she herself never asked for one, simply because she didn’t wanna bother anyone. Not that she thought the others were bothers. It’s just having grown up in a household where emotions were basically suppressed, opening up was quite impossible. 

       Then came Harry. Perfect, impossible, loving, sweet, kind, ridiculously open Harry. God, she just wanted to punch him because no one should be that nice. 

        January 2nd, 2020 he’d called her up, having gotten Y/N’s number from Sarah (after ages of pleading, because as much as Sarah sometimes couldn’t handle drunk Y/N, she’d defend and protect her until the very last breath), and they set up a coffee date.

        Slowly but surely, they spent more and more time together and seeing as her job had her based in LA for a while, visiting Harry was no problem. Then the pandemic hit, and on March 18th the whole stay-at-home order was issued in California. 

        Y/N was in a panic. She was meant to leave LA in ten days, and the hotel her company was paying for had been paid until the 28th. With all flights getting rapidly cancelled, she was scrambling to get one, but even her firm was unable to get her a seat. That’s when Harry had called up, his tone a worried, urgent mess as to if Y/N was alright and what her plans were.

        Of course, him being him, he immediately offered her a place to stay.

        “We don’t even need to stay in the same room, there’s like five other guest rooms you can take up,” he tried to joke, and ease her tension.

        “Fuck, Harry, just rub it in how rich you are.” Y/N cackled, and when she heard him laugh in the background, her heart did that stupid fluttery thing she’d grown so used to. 

        It took a little persuasion from Harry’s side, and reassurance at least seven more times, that Y/N wouldn’t be intruding on his space, and he was more than happy to spend the quarantine with someone else, instead of being alone, and that in no way her taking over a room or two would limit him and his own artistic endeavours. So, apprehensively Y/N packed her suitcases, grabbed an uber, wearing a mask the whole time, and drove to Harry’s place.  

When Y/N saw the gated community and the palace he was living in, the inside of her cheek was practically bitten in half. They’d barely been together for three months, and now she was basically moving in with him, but given how it was either live with Harry in a fucking mansion or walk across the country to New York, she took the first option. 

        As much as Harry loved on her, pretty much shagging her brains out every possible second, and loving on her until her cheeks hurt from smiling, the anxiety about the whole situation never left.

Harry was worried about his mom and sister, Y/N was scared of what was happening in New York. So, when the state boarders opened, immediately, although reluctantly, she flew back to her apartment and her dying plants, but never forgetting to FaceTime with Harry. But they couldn't stay away long from one another.

        Which is why they decided, given how she was able to work from home now, and Harry could do so as well, they’d fly over to one another every two weeks, quarantine together for the next two weeks, and then fly to the other place. Her boss actually loved the idea that Y/N was so willing to go back and forth between the two cities, so all her flights were written off as business expenses, not to mention when she said she wouldn’t need a hotel, he was more than thrilled to let her be in LA whenever she wanted, as long as her work got done.

        It seemed funny to her now, that before Y/N couldn’t wait to get back to the sunny state of Cali. Now when she had to fly over (which was just a couple of times since the breakup), going through JFK security made her sweat, and landing was a vomit-inducing action. And the last time she’d gotten back to the home-base state, she’d actually thrown up, Harry’s last words ringing in her ears.

        It’d been three weeks since Sarah’s New Year party, and three weeks since she’d spoken to him although he still kept calling. Every morning she’d wake up to a couple of notifications of missed calls, and each time she’d listen to the messages; it was all the same – I miss your voice. And every time she’d listen to it, her thoughts were exactly the same. You could say it was almost pathetic as to how many times she’d listened to his albums, just to hear him sing. Almost like he used to do right before she fell asleep.

        But Y/N had no one else but herself to blame for it. She’d been the one to call it quits, she’d been the one who walked out of his apartment, and the one who decided she wouldn’t fight. 

        Now, she was sat by her small magazine table, documents spread out in front of her as if a tornado had rolled through, while an apple and cinnamon candle spread its delicious scent through the air. 

        Y/N would only admit it once because, well, the proof was all over the apartment, but she was very lazy when it came to taking away the Christmas décor. It made her feel warm and comfy. And it reminded her of Harry. How when she’d woken up after their first date, already in the new year, he still had colourful fairy lights strung across the curtain rods, giving everything a soft, cosy glow. 

        He’d also been the one who convinced her that a real Christmas tree was so much better than a plastic one. 

        “Yes, it’s a hassle,” he’d said through slurred words as they’d slinked away from the partying crowd after the countdown was done, and each of them had taken three shots of vodka. “But it’s so worth it. Smells like a fucking forest in your room. Like proper Christmas!”

        And although she’d spent this holiday season alone, Harry had been right. Just like he’d been right about Y/N.

        She tapped her pen against the glass surface and readjusted her position on the floor.

        “This is the periodic table, noble gases stable, halogens and alkali react aggressively,” Y/N hummed as she highlighted the incorrect parts of the paper in front of her. “Each period will see new outer shells, while electrons are added moving to the right.”

        Just as she was about to start off the second verse, her doorbell rang, and her stomach gurgled in response.

        “Ugh,” she groaned to herself. “Pasta come to fuckin’ mama.”

        But when she opened the door, she wasn’t greeted by the Uber Eats delivery man.

        “Harry.”

        Y/N was taken aback. She didn’t expect him to visit her, especially not so soon and especially to fly out to New York (as much as he was most likely there to do other stuff as well, her gut told her he was there for her). 

Sure, she hoped that one day they could be friends, if not acquaintances, he was too important of a person for her to lose completely from her life, but that was looking like five years into the future.

        “I bring gifts.” He raised his hand where her boxes of food hung in a paper bag. “Can I?”

        “Uh, yeah, of course!” She shook her head to clear it from the shock and allowed Harry to enter into the warmth of her apartment and escape from the cold January air.

        “I was on my way up when the delivery man came in, and I recognised by the boxes it was yours.” The smirk on Harry’s face was something Y/N loved to see, but usually, she liked to also wipe it away. Preferably with her own lips. 

        She let out a small scoff, not waiting to see if he followed inside, as she scurried to the adjacent kitchen and grabbed two plates, while he opened up the white cardboard containers and allowed the delicious smell of spaghetti Bolognese as well as a carbonara waft into the air. Y/N had wanted to eat the latter at some point during the night when the munchies hit, but she supposed Harry was probably hungry as well. “Maybe there’s someone else here, who likes Italian.”

        “Probably, but only you would order from the shittiest Italian restaurant just because they have pesto and parmesan bread.”

        “Hey!” She slapped his arm. “They’re not shit. They provide me with everything I need – calories, carbs and bread.”

        “What more does a person need?”

        “Exactly!”

        Both of them let out small chuckles and then settled down on her couch to dig into the meal. They ate in silence, and despite Y/N’s initial shock, it wasn’t uncomfortable. In fact, they were sitting pretty much shoulder to shoulder, as she watched Harry re-read the spread-out articles on the table and use her marker to tick some stuff that could use re-wording. He had a knack for words, after all.

        “I uh…” He wiped his mouth with one of the napkins provided by the diner before clasping his fingers together and looking at the woman sitting next to him, as she slowly set her empty plate on the small cupboard beside the sofa. “I was hoping we could talk.”

        Y/N hung her head. She should’ve known he wasn’t here to just check-in and have some dinner. “We already did. Twice might I add. What makes you think this time the ending will be different?”

        “Third times the charm?” Harry let out a little laugh, and she rolled her eyes. “Look, I didn’t wanna leave everything the way I did. I – I said some pretty shit things.”

        Y/N fiddled with her thumb. ‘I had,’ Harry’s words echoed in her head. ‘Only she didn’t trust that I loved her the same.’ “Nothing that was untrue though.”

        “See, that’s where I think both of us are wrong.”

        That was not what Y/N thought this conversation would be whatsoever.

        “I – “ He cleared his throat. “I know I said I didn’t think you trusted me that I loved you enough. I think you know I did – do.”

        If Y/N still had any food in her mouth she would’ve choked on it, as she bit back the rising lump in her throat, but instead of interrupting him, she let Harry continue. “And honestly, it’s not your fault that it fell apart, ‘s my fault too. I pushed you to do something, you didn’t want to, weren’t comfortable with, when you told me not to… just because I wanted to feel important, ‘nd because I wanted to get a role in your life you weren’t ready for yet. And I’m sorry for doing that. I should’ve never forced you.”

        “Harry…” Y/N was at a complete loss. “I – I don’t really know what to say.”

        He took her left hand in his and clasped it, finally able to properly say what'd been eating away at him. “During the New Year party, I didn’t go about it the right way. I was just – I was just still so hurt, and I wanted you to hurt the same because… it didn’t seem like you cared at all, which I know you did… I know you loved me, and…” He took in a deep breath. “I hope that you still do. At least enough to give us another chance. We can take it at your pace,” he instantly added, knowing how she’d react, expecting the sigh and the almost tired and resigned ‘Harry’ that escaped her lips. But he’d say everything on his mind. “You can take how long you need to feel like you can trust me with what’s bothering you.”

        “Harry,” she repeated, but it didn’t seem like he was about to stop.

        “But I think we can do it, and we can do it right this time. We know where we stand, we won't make the same mistakes.”

        Y/N’s hand came to rest against his cheek, and he practically melted, engulfing her palm with his as to not let her touch leave his skin for even a second. “Are you even listening to yourself?”

        “Look, I know, you’re scared, and the thing is, so am I. I don’t want it to end like that or end. Period. But I do want to try again.”

        And if nothing but to humour him Y/N asked, “And if it does end the same way?”

        “It won’t.” He was so sure of it, she had to laugh.

        “Harry, the big difference between us is – you like to talk about your feelings. You like to go through them and stuff. I don’t. I feel… icky when I even think about talking to someone of what I feel. We’re just too opposite.”

        “Opposites attract.”

        “No,” she pointed a finger at him, stifling her laughter, though Harry seemed not to be hiding his smile. “Do not use science against me.”

        He raised his hands as if in surrender. “I’m not, I’m just supporting my point with facts. Scientific facts, that you can’t argue against.”

        “I mean…” Y/N shrugged her shoulders. “I dunno… Maybe it was a good thing we ended it when we did. It was ten months – almost ten – amazing months, but… can you imagine if we’d gone so far as to think about moving in together, and then it fell apart? That would’ve been a whole different kind of a mess.”

        “Do you love me?”

        Y/N sighed, resting her cheek against the couch while she smoothed away his brown locks from his face. “Of course, I do. Don’t think there will be a time in my life I don’t.”

        “Then that’s all I need.”

         “Is that really enough for you?”

        “Yes.”

        And there was no lie in that single word. Did he want for Y/N to feel comfortable enough with him that she talked about whatever concerned her, however small? Of course. But he also wanted her to be comfortable enough to be herself. If that meant her keeping things to herself, and trusting Harry to support her decisions, it’d be enough.

        Her Y/E/C eyes hadn’t left his green ones, and they only widened as he leaned forwards and pressed his forehead to hers.

        “Haz…”

        Fuck, how he’d missed her calling him that. It wasn’t an exclusive nickname by any means, but when it came from Y/N’s mouth, it was the sweetest sound in the universe.

        He was her Haz when he broke a plate, he was her Haz when she threw her head back as pleasure exploded through her body, he was her Haz when he took her hand in his to quell her anxiety, and he was her Haz when he gave her tissues as they watched a movie, and she couldn’t help but cry each time a dog or cat died (or a dragon, but he was a sobbing mess as well because ‘Dragonheart’ messed with them both).

        His lips were so close, and just as they skimmed over her own, Y/N’s phone rang making her physically spring back, eyes like saucers.

        “S – Sorry,” she stammered, scrambling to find the annoying device between the cushions. It was Sarah’s name that lit up her screen.

        “Hey, what’s up?” Y/N started, voice trembling and shaky. God, when had she suddenly gone so out of breath? And why was her head so dizzy, as if she’d just gotten off a rollercoaster?

        “Yeah, he’s here,” she replied, eyeing Harry. “Yeah, just a sec,” and Y/N handed him her phone with a quiet ‘why’s your phone always dead?’

        ‘Didn’t know it died’, he said, but that was untrue. He’d turned it off so this sort of a situation wouldn’t happen; so a call or text wouldn’t interrupt him at the most critical moment. He had to give the universe a proper talk once he was done.

        “ ‘Ello?” 

        Seconds of silence passed, and Y/N didn’t like how weird it was, so she took the empty plates and put them in the sink to soak.

        “Now?”

        She could see the frustration rise in Harry as his forehead creased, and he let a hand rake through his hair. “Fuck’s sake… yeah, I’ll be there in ten. ‘S alright,” he sighed. “Not your fault Sarah. Tell Jeff not to worry, and that I’m not dead.”

        With that, he pressed the red button and ended the call, drumming his fingers against the screen. God, he really didn’t want to leave. Not now. Not after he’d been so close.

        “Uh, work?” Y/N asked, arms crossed in front of her as if she was protecting herself from the answer. 

        “Yeah, sorry. I uh a meeting from tomorrow got rescheduled for tonight, like right now because there was some sort of an emergency from the label’s side."

        “ ‘S alright, I get it. Showbiz never stops.” Y/N motioned to the door. “I’ll walk you out.”

        There were a couple of times in his life Harry wanted to give himself a beating. Once when he was six and Gemma had told on him after he’d broken a favourite vase of their mothers, he decided to get revenge and destroy her favourite plushie. He’d never forget the tears Gem had cried, and how absolutely heartbroken she’d sounded. He vowed although he was the little brother, to never ever let anyone hurt her like that, and if someone did, they’d meet their maker sooner rather than later.

        The second time was when he was still a teenager, One Direction on the rise, and it had gotten to his head just a little bit more than it should’ve. He’d gotten really messed up at a party (which Harry shouldn’t have even been at). The disappointment on his mother’s face as she scolded him through FaceTime was gut-wrenching enough to make him promise to always know the limit.

        And Harry guessed this was the third time.

        He could’ve said no to the meeting. Jeff was there and so was Sarah and Mitch. The three of them could handle it for him. It’s not like he would mind much whatever they came up with if it had given him the time to settle things with Y/N. 

        “It was great to see you, Harry.” She brought him out from the thoughts as she unlocked the door and opened it for him, bringing her jumper sleeves over her palms to hide from the cold outside air. “Really. I – I missed you, and honestly, I’m glad we got to talk. I uh well, take care. And say hi to Sarah from me please.”

        “I – “ he took hold of Y/N’s wrist before she could turn away. “I’m holding a small concert in a week. Here in uh in New York. It’s for charity… I want you to come.”

        “I umm… I’ll have to check if I’m free, but yeah. I will. Thank you.”

        “ ‘S no problem… Sarah missed you like crazy now that you’re not in LA as often… ‘n yeah. Anyway. I’ll put your name on the guest list, so just bring some ID, and they’ll let you backstage.”

        “Okay,” she whispered and gave him a small, genuine smile. “Thank you. I’ll really try to come.”

        “Yeah.”

        And he was going to go without doing anything else. Harry truly was. But as he released her wrist, going to the stairs, he gave Y/N one last glance back, and it was like his feet had a mind of their own, as they carried him back to where she stood by the still open door, grabbed her by the waist and pressed his lips to hers. 

        He expected Y/N to push him away, but to his very huge delight, she didn’t. Instead, her fingers wove through his hair and her legs almost on instinct rose so he could take her by the thighs, wrap them around his middle and press her against the doorway. 

        The groan that Harry swallowed from Y/N only ignited the fire that’d been burning ever since he met her, but it wasn’t the destructive kind, like the ones that leave nothing but charcoal behind. It was warm. Safe. Like the light of a fairy light. Like the embrace of home.

        “Come to the show,” he muttered against Y/N’s lips, as they broke apart, and he set her down on the ground, not letting go until he was sure she was steady on her feet. “I’ll wait for you.”

        With that, he left because if he didn’t, he’d make sure Y/N would be unable to walk for a week.

        And Y/N watched him retreat while her brain fought with her heart.

        What was it he’d sung in ‘Golden’, as he’d twirled her in the sea of bodies and glitter a little bit more than a year ago? ‘Loving is the antidote?’ 

        Maybe love was the antidote to her fear.

        She closed the door.

        And smiled.

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):

Everything tags: @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91 @dalilx @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan @teenwolflover28 @lestersglitterglue @im-squished

Harry Styles tags: @sarcasticallywitty15​ @breezykpop​ @girlboss99​ @harrystylesdoesntknowiexist​ @alliyjane​ @sirtommyholland​

A/N: I’ve been listening to ‘Fine Line’, ‘The Periodic Table Song’, ‘Welcome to the Christmas Parade’ (Welcome to the Black Parade mix with All I Want For Christmas) and ‘Rasputin’ Boney M remix exclusively... I feel like a complete crackhead... :D

Decided to tag also those who wanted a part 2 but didn’t necessarily ask to be tagged :)

P.S. I guess there will be a part 3???

P.S.S. if you wanna be added to a tag list drop me a message :)

[justthehiddleswrites]

Cutthroat Kitchen | Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Summary:  You make an offhand remark about Tom’s Bolognese and now you are standing your kitchen ready to battle. Perhaps even to the death. Over pasta.

Warnings: Fluff

-

Tom was so engrossed with the pan he didn’t even notice the front door open or your keys clink in the ceramic dish in the foyer. He also didn’t hear you greet him as you reached the kitchen doorway.

“Tom!” you boomed as he lifted a spoon to sample his sauce.

He fumbled the spoon, sending sauce everywhere, mostly onto Tom’s glasses. The spoon clattered on the ground as Tom spun to face you, splattered face and all.

“Darling…” his voice terse as he removed his glasses to clean. “… a little warning would be nice.”

You covered your mouth to suppress the laughter bubbling up. “And miss the great Tom Hiddleston covered in…” you leaned in and kissed his cheek, getting some sauce on your lips. You licked your lips. “… Bolognese sauce. Not a chance. But for your information, I did announce myself, you just didn’t hear me, Gordon Ramsey.”

“You know I take my Bolognese seriously. I get into a zone. Now unless you have something else…” He gestured towards the pan.

You raised your hands in defeat. “I will leave you to work.” You gave him one more quick peck on the cheek, before snagging a piece of bread.

Tom swatted your butt with a towel as you hustled out of the kitchen. You busied yourself entertaining Bobby while Tom finished up dinner.

“It looks divine, darling.” you complimented as Tom placed a steaming plate of pasta in front of you.

“Thank you, dear. I love spoiling you.”

“Spoken like a good husband.” you smiled as you tucked in.

After too much wine and too much food, you cleaned up the mess in the kitchen.

“Must you always make such a mess when you cook?” you sighed as you scrubbed the third pan of the evening.

“We must never question the creative process.” Tom dried the plates, replacing them in the cupboard. “How was the Bolognese?”

“Passable.” you muttered, finishing up the last spoon, wiping your hands on a towel.

“Passable?!” Tom cried. “What happened to divine?”

“I said it looked divine.” you corrected him. “But I have made better.” You walked away, swaying your hips.

Tom used his long legs to his advantage to cut you off in the living room. You stopped in your tracks, smirking. Tom smiled back, knowing damn well what you were doing.

“Is that a challenge, darling?” His eyes twinkled.

“Perhaps?”

“How do you suggest we settle this?”

“I might have an idea or two.” You raise an eyebrow.

“By all means, let’s hear it.”

The two of you settled on the couch, Bobby under foot, to discuss the particulars.

-

Two Weeks Later

“Are the two of you really going to go through with this?” Benedict questioned as he faced the two of you.

You tighten the strings on your apron and glanced over at Tom, who cracked his knuckles.

“Positive, Ben.” Tom answered. “Now read what’s on the paper.”

Ben sighed. “How am I friends with two such ridiculously competitive people?”

“Sheer luck. Now read.”

“Fine. The two competitors shall have one hour to cook and plate their dishes. They are allowed to use anything in the fridge or pantry, including any previously prepared components. No stealing ingredients or components previously prepared by the competitor… Would either of you honestly steal from each other. You are married!”

“I wouldn’t.” You shot a knowing glare towards Tom. His eyes widened in mock shock.

“I have never—”

“Turks and Caicos, three years ago. Should I go into more details?” you countered.

“There’s a story I must find out about.” Sophie piped up.

“Et tu, Sophie?” Tom whined.

She only giggled in response.

“Can I continue with this ridiculous exercise?” Ben scoffed.

“Please.” Both of you responded.

“As I was saying… The finished dishes will be judged on taste and appearance via blind taste tasting by our two judges.” Ben gestured to himself and Sophie. “Any ties will result in a sudden death cook off.”

You made a “I’m watching you” motion towards Tom who pretended to slit his throat with his finger. Benedict rolled his eyes.

“Total drama queens, the lot of you. On your marks… get set… COOK!”

You threw your shoulder into Tom on the way to the fridge. He skidded off balance, and you opened it up first.

“No body checking!” Tom hollered, using his wingspan to reach over you.

“All’s fair in love and war, honey!”

You claimed a spot on the counter next to the stove and unwrapped your pasta dough.

Tom sneaked a glance on your side of the kitchen.

“Did you make your pasta dough?”

“I did.” You spied boxed pasta on his side. “Oh, you didn’t!” you feigned surprise. “Shame.”

Tom drew a breath in through his teeth, hissing. “Dirty pool.”

“Just taking every advantage. It isn’t my fault you have only three recipes in your repertoire.”

You ran the dough through the machine once, twice, and continued until a long thin strip of pasta dough formed. You tossed it on the floured counter. You filled a pot with water and turned it on while you heated another pan, placing a stick of butter in there.

Tom set about making some sort of red sauce.

“Making your stand by Bolognese? Predictable.”

“Keep your eyes…” Tom turned you to face your own food. “… to yourself, darling.” He kissed your cheek before returning to his sauce.

“Party pooper.”

“I want to win.”

“And I don’t?!”

“If you want to win, keep an eye on your butter.” Tom poked a spoon towards your pan.

“Shit!” You pulled it off the burner and were relieved to see the butter only browned and not burned. You turned the heat down and replaced the pan, adding some chopped garlic.

In a small bowl, you whipped up the cheese filling for your ravioli. You got the raviolis formed and dropped them into the water. You added some fresh sage leaves to the butter and turned the heat down. As you pulled the raviolis out of the water, you tossed them into the butter mixture. Tom cursed as he shook his hand.

“That pan is hot, honey.”

“Well aware, darling. My fingers can attest to that.”

“2 minutes!” Benedict yelled from the living room.

Both you and Tom picked up the speed, furiously plating up the dishes. You were just grating a bit of fresh nutmeg as Benedict yelled “Time!”

Tom moved to place the plate on the table behind the number 1.

“That’s not Bolognese?!” you exclaimed. “You only know how to make Bolognese!”

Tom smirked as you placed your own plate behind number 2. Both of you had previously typed out descriptions of your dishes. “I can be taught, darling. Bold of you to assume you were the only who prepared for this.”

“I’ll remember that you can be taught the next spring cleaning day and you are suddenly incapable of throwing away a single article of clothing.”

“Stay away from my running shorts.” Tom pointed a finger at you.

“Lover’s spat?” Benedict joked as him and Sophie walked in.

“She wants to throw away my favorite running shorts.” Tom explained.

“Good. They are ghastly. All those holes, you look like a bum.” Sophie piped up.

“Is that what happened to my favorite t-shirt?” Ben questioned, staring daggers at Sophie.

“When do we get to eat pasta?” Sophie changed the subject.

“We are not done with this.” Ben jabbed a finger towards his wife.

“First up, we have a Fra Diavolo with seafood.” Benedict recited from the piece of paper.

Sophie and him loaded up their forks with Tom’s pasta. They both chewed thoughtfully.

“Good spice.” Sophie commented in between bites. “But some of the seafood is not cooked all the way.”

You resisted the urge to smile. They moved on to your dish. “This is cheese ravioli with a browned butter sauce and frizzled sage.”

“Fancy.” Benedict commented.

“Show off.” Tom muttered.

“Shh!” you hushed him.

Sophie caught your eye and smiled. The ravioli sliced perfectly with their forks.

“The filling is smooth.” Benedict commented. “The browned butter tastes almost burned, however. And I am not much of a fan of sage.”

Tom stifled a chuckle, covering it with a cough. You noticed a knowing glance between Ben and Tom.

“Allow us to deliberate.” Sophie commented, and she pulled Benedict out of earshot.

With all your weight, you shoved Tom in the side. “Way to give it away!”

Tom punched you playfully in the arm. “You were not much better, my dear. And don’t think I didn’t see that look between you and Soph. Trying to influence the judges, you should be ashamed.”

“Hello pot, meet kettle! You and Ben were practically telegraphing your insidious plan to throw this competition in your favor.”

Tom clutched his chest. “You wound me to think I would stoop so low as to throw a contest.”

“I do think so. You hate to lose. Even in a cooking competition against your wife.”

Tom protested more, but Benedict cleared his throat.

“We have made a decision.”

Your stomach jumped into your throat.

And the winner is…” Sophie continued Ben’s thought, her hands hovered between both plates. “… number 2!”

You threw your hands in the air and jumped around.

“YES!! Yes! Yes, yes, yes!” you squealed.

Tom’s head dropped to his chest.

“Winner, winner, winner!” you chanted. “Loser!” you pointed towards Tom.

“Thanks a lot, Ben!” Tom groused. “I thought we had a deal!”

“You did cheat!”

“Tried to cheat. It didn’t work!”

“Sophie threatened me.” Ben deadpanned.

“Are you scared of your wife?” Tom questioned.

“Absolutely. I’m also scared of your wife. She punches.”

“Excellent point.” Tom turned to you, and smiled one of his killer smiles. “Now…” You glared down as his arm wrapped around your waist. “… about the terms of this contest?”

You smiled back up at him, running your hand across the stubble on his chin.

“Remember those running shorts?”

Tom’s eyes widened before his brows furrowed. “You wouldn’t dare!”

“Try and catch me!” you screamed as you went full speed towards the bedroom. Tom followed, gaining on you with each step.

“We’ll just see ourselves out!” Benedict called out as Sophie collapsed into giggles on the sofa. “Drama queens the lot of them.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

She [2]

Warnings: non-consent sex (series)

This is dark! Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Series Synopsis: Steve Rogers’ life is turned upside down by a reporter.

Chapter Summary: Steve deals with the aftermath of his recent notoriety.

Note: Alright, so I know this starts slow but I promise it is a steady creep towards the finish line. 

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Steve

It was a morning like any other. Steve woke up, pulled on his track pants and a light blue tee, and took his time tying his old sneakers. He stretched as he neared the door and hopped down the front steps of his walk-up. It was early and as quiet as New York got.

He set off on his usual route. It was his only chance to just lose himself. He could just run and not think about everything that awaited him. He was due at the compound that day; another briefing. That one thought tugged at his mind. Was it time?

When he returned to his townhouse, he jogged up his steps and let himself inside. He had some water and made his usual breakfast. Two eggs and four strips of bacon with rye toast. He sat and ate alone. The place felt empty.

It had taken him over two years to renovate the place and he missed the flurry of activity. He hadn’t felt so lonely then, even when half the world had disappeared. Now it was just him. He felt less and less himself every day. Bitter, resentful, tired.

He rinsed his dishes as he stared at the deep red tiles above the sink. He sighed. He’d tried dating. He was about as great at it was he had been when he weighed as much as his left leg. He dried the plate and placed it among the stack. He didn’t know why he had so many; it was only ever him. The glass went with the rest and the utensils clattered loudly into the drawer. 

A buzz sounded. The noise was quiet but nagging. He often ignored it. He left his phone by the door when he got home to charge and only took it when he went to work. It continued to vibrate. It was ringing. He unhooked the cord and answered as Fury’s name flashed up at him.

“Rogers,” He answered as he headed upstairs. “I’m on my way. I’m not due for another--”

“You’re due when I say you’re due,” Fury snapped. “Which is now.”

“Alright, just let me get dressed,” Steve huffed as he sat on his bed and kicked off his shoes. 

“Maybe start answering your phone,” Fury snarled.

“It was charging.” Steve argued. 

The line went dead. He tossed the phone on the mattress and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. For all he did, it was never a please or thank you, it was only more, more, more. 

He stood and pushed his hair back. He’d take his time just to spite Fury. The biggest act of defiance he could muster. He went into the bathroom and cranked on the shower. He closed the glass door and let it steam up before he stripped. He glanced in the mirror. 

He wondered what life would have been if he had stayed the skinny boy who punched up. He was certain even that would be a happier existence than this. He had sold his soul for what? It didn’t have to be him, it could have been anyone. Why had he always insisted on being the big guy? The hero?

He pulled open the shower and stepped inside. The cloud of steam settled over him and he closed his eyes. No, it did have to be him because there was no one like Steve Rogers.

🖋️

Steve walked into the compound. He was agitated. He had been accosted coming out of his house by some photographer and had resisted the urge to swat him away like a fly as he unlocked his car. The compound was worse. A dozen people with cameras awaited him as he pulled up to the parking lot gate and waited for the booth operator to let him in.

He took the stairs. Fury greeted him with crossed arms and his usual one-eyed sneer. This couldn’t be good. He held a magazine and turned it to reveal the cover. Steve squinted and shrugged as he stopped before the irritable man.

“Look closer,” Fury shoved the magazine towards him. 

In the corner, Steve recognized himself. An edited photo which showed half of his face with his cowl on and the other without. A small tagline stood out below: ‘The Man Without A Plan: Steve Rogers’ Struggle for Stability’. He grabbed the issue and looked closer at the glossy cover in shock.

“Shit,” He swore.

“Shit?” Fury repeated. “So I guess I don’t have to remind you of what you said to that reporter.”

“Why are you mad at me? You approved the interview.” Steve flipped through the pages to the exclusive.

“But I didn’t give the interview. If I had, it wouldn’t have made the front cover,” Fury hissed.

“No, it would all be redacted,” Steve started to read through. “I didn’t--”

“You didn’t say any of that?” Fury challenged.

“No…” Steve looked up. “I did but I…”

“You let a journalist get the best of you.” Fury shook his head. “And now your plastered all over the city.”

“It’s one magazine,” Steve said.

“You need to start using that goddamn phone of yours.” Fury reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell. He quickly typed and turned it to Steve. “Search yourself once in a while. I know it’s tacky but shit.”

Steve read over the top news articles; ‘Steve Rogers lashes out at journalist in report’ and ‘Rogers’ Dilemma: Hero condemns ungrateful civilians’. He pulled back and looked at the magazine again. The stabbing in his heart turned to fire.

“That little--” He clamped his lips together to keep from swearing. 

“Come on,” Fury glanced around. “Let’s talk somewhere else. This much attention on you, we can’t be too careful.”

He followed Fury through the halls and past several training rooms. He thought of the reporter and her pensive eyes. The way she’d watched him so closely as she scribbled on her notepad. She’d seemed harmless until she started asking questions. 

After he calmed down, he’d nearly forgotten about the whole debacle. He assumed it would be buried like most of his interviews. One day of press and then done.

Fury led him into the plain office which looked like it was never used. It was as clean and clinical as an operating room. Fury leaned on the desk as Steve pored over the last lines of the article and paced.

“There’s not gonna be a briefing this morning,” Fury said. “Not for you.”

“What--?”

“It’s best we keep this quiet but… Rogers, you need a break. Take it.” Fury pushed back his long leather duster as he gripped his hips. “Maybe get away from the city until this all dies down.”

“Get away? This is my city,” Steve hissed. “I won’t be run out by some… some…”

Bitch! He wanted to say but he held it in. Even in front of this man, he had to put on a mask. He could never just say what he was thinking. What he was feeling. He bent the magazine and hit it with his palm.

“It’s just an article. Christ. I think my job is a little bigger than some gossip rag.” Steve huffed.

“I’d agree but it’s not just my call and it’s not just about you. We have a team, a younger team now. They can’t be distracted by all this.” Fury said.

“How long?” Steve asked.

“Two weeks.” Fury replied. “For now.”

“For now?” Steve repeated. 

“It should all die down before then but if it doesn’t…”

“This is bullshit.” Steve barked. “What did I say that was so wrong?”

“The concern is your temper and as ridiculous as I thought that was, I’m starting to see the sense in it.” Fury sneered. “You need to calm down, Captain.”

“I don’t have a temper problem.” Steve snarled.

“Why don’t you read that again? You were hostile and some would think intentionally trying to intimidate that reporter. A female.” Fury said pointedly. “Who, by the looks of her, isn’t much of a match for a super soldier.”

“I was across the room from her,” Steve argued. “I didn’t even raise my voice.”

“People won’t know that. They know that you got aggressive, quickly it seems, and then shut down the interview abruptly.” Fury took a breath. “You’re only lucky she stopped where she did.”

Steve glared at Fury. He gritted his teeth as he gripped the magazine tighter.

“Fine,” He uttered. “Two weeks.”

🖋️

Steve didn’t realize he still had the magazine in his hand until he got in his car. He sat, staring blindly out the windshield, then slowly looked down. It was bent in his grip and as he let it fall onto the passenger seat, it remained warped. He shoved his key in the slot and turned the engine.

Still, he didn’t budge. He grasped the steering wheel and a rumble began deep in his chest. A carnal growl. He invited her into his home and she ruined his reputation in return. 

Perhaps he was still the naive little Brooklyn boy. He thought she was so sweet over the phone. She was just as self-serving and apathetic as everyone else in this world. The very same he had saved, time and time again.

He pulled out sharply and flashed his pass to the booth. There were still photographers out on the sidewalk; waiting for him. He drove without thinking. He had never felt so angry. He had never let himself be this angry. Always holding it in for the sake of others. Always compromising his feelings because it was ‘right’.

He stopped parallel to the curb. His vision cleared and he peered up at the tall building. He shouldn’t have come here but he was there and he couldn’t stop himself. He turned off his car and waited.

He muted his phone as it kept buzzing; Bucky, Sam, all his team members. Asking where he was or maybe about his new found infamy. Well, he wasn’t their leader anymore. Not for the next two weeks so they could take care of themselves as he found something else to do. Something for himself, for once in his life.

He didn’t know how long he waited. Probably too long. An hour or two. Then he saw her. She appeared through the front doors of the building, her attention on the open purse in her hand. She dropped it as a camera flashed and Steve leaned his seat back as he watched her scramble for the overturned contents.

She didn’t look malicious. At a glance, she was just another girl. She picked up her purse and resumed her route past the photographer. He watched her through the rear view as she disappeared into a sandwich shop just a few buildings down. 

He readjusted his seat and hovered his hand over the ignition. He paused and closed his eyes. What was he doing? Let it go. It would all just go away.

He started the car and pulled out into traffic. He was edgy and found himself leaning a bit too hard on the gas. He stopped short as he almost hit another car. He punched the dash and swore. She could play innocent but she wouldn’t get away with it. Not if he had anything to say about it.

🖋️

Steve went home but not for long. Another photographer outside his house as if he would give them a show on his front stoop. He went inside and paced his front room then went to the kitchen and looked in the fridge. He wasn’t hungry. He went upstairs and changed. Black pants, grey hoodie, a dark blue ball cap to cover his blonde hair. He fished out his only pair of sunglasses and found his way back to the first floor.

He peeked through the window. The photographer was still there. He went to the back and glanced out into the small fenced yard. Nothing but the patio set he had yet to use and overgrown grass. He went back and grabbed his keys and wallet. He sneaked out through the back gate, careful that no one saw him slip down the next street.

He walked to the subway and strode down into the station. He checked the time as he climbed on the train. He sat by the door and his leg jiggled impatiently. He stopped it with his hand and looked around. No one else seemed to notice his anxiety or him. It had been a long time since he felt invisible.

He got off and slipped past the crowds. He walked the same street he had lingered on hours before. He kept to the other side of the street as he checked the time again. Would she already be gone? He kept to the mouth of the alley and watched the photographers as they waited by the front doors.

When she came out, it was the same as before. She scurried away from her own ilk as they attempted to talk to her and catch her in their lens. They left her at the subway entrance; their cameras too expensive to chance in the underground. Besides it would be difficult enough to get a shot in a car full of people.

He crossed the street and quickly descended the grimy steps behind her. He caught sight of her just before she disappeared onto her platform. He kept his distance, far enough that he’d get on the next car. The train pulled up and he watched her step inside before he mirrored her.

When the train shifted, he waited a minute before he slipped through the doors to the next car. He sat at the end as she huddled in a seat on the other side. She kept her head down, her eyes on her phone. The old New York solitary. She looked entirely vulnerable and it made something inside of him flinch. A subtle snap as he couldn’t look away even as she did nothing at all. 

She was nothing compared to him. He could break her as easily as he did criminals and villains. Probably easier. He gulped as he pushed his shoulders back and tried to resist the thoughts. No. He wasn’t that. He didn’t do that. 

But what was he doing? Following her; watching her. He hadn’t thought about that. He’d just done it. What would he do from here? Follow her home and what? He could try talking to her but for what? The damage was done; she couldn’t undo what she’d done. And she likely wouldn’t want to. 

She had used him to climb her way up the ladder. Now her name was featured alongside his and the world was at her feet. She was the innocent and he was her antagonist. Well, if that’s what she wanted.

As the train stopped, she stood and he did too. Almost too quickly. He slowed and kept several bodies between them as he followed her out onto the platform. She continued up onto the streets and he stayed with her. Close enough to see her but far enough she wouldn’t see him.

Her building was among many sentinels looming along the New York skyline. Boxy overpriced apartments which were often barely more than a single room. He watched her flit inside and waited. Slowly, he approached the door and stepped inside the small entryway. It was empty. 

He searched the rows of buttons for her name. The speaker was outdated and dirty. Even he could tell. Her last name was half-faded. He memorized her number and went back out into the street. He inhaled and shoved his hands in his pockets as he coolly walked on. He stopped just past her building and looked down the alleyway between it and the next.

The dimming sky contrasted the wrought metal of fire escape. He glanced over his shoulder and turned down the alley. The dumpster stunk and broken bottles littered the ground around it. He stopped beyond the stinking box and looked up. He bent his knees and jumped, catching himself on the bottom rung of the ladder.

He pulled himself up. Second floor, he noted. He climbed the first set of stairs and the next and on until he reached her floor. He counted the windows across the side of the building but it barely helped. He didn’t know where they started and ended.

He went to the end of the escape and the window beside him lit up. He ducked and listened. He could hear every step on the other side of the wall. His enhanced ears could even measure the heart beat within. He slowly raised himself and peeked over the window ledge.

He couldn’t believe his luck. Or the coincidence. It was her. Her purse was on the table as she removed her blazer. Her small apartment was cluttered but not messy. She yawned as she went to the fridge. She took out a slim can of sparkling water and opened it. She searched the shelves and pulled out a styrofoam box. She picked at the contents with a fork as she leaned on the narrow counter.

She slid her phone from her pocket and set it beside her leftovers as she scrolled with her finger. She turned it over and pushed it away from her. She sighed and flipped the lid closed. She tossed the container in the bin and crossed to the couch on the other side of the counter. 

She dropped down and flipped on the television. She spread out with her head against the arm. He could see her face as she wriggled and pulled the tails of her blouse from inside her pants. She unbuttoned just the first few buttons and then let her arm hang off the side. She fiddled with the remote then set it on the low table in front of the couch.

He watched her for a while. She didn’t do much. She just laid there. She turned onto her side and took off her socks. She closed her eyes but opened them shortly after. She changed the channel again and he backed away from the window.

He thought of forcing it open but didn’t dare to think beyond that. The little tug at the back of his mind scared him. What would he do if he just went in there? What could he do? He shuddered and crawled over to the stairs. He descended carefully.

When he reached the ground, he dropped down and took a breath. There was a heartbeat racing in his ears. It was his. He looked up and licked his lips. It took all his strength to walk away.

[shinydelirium]

MLQC Season 2 Chapter 8 (Kiro) Part 2 [Scramble] & [Bad Signs] Translation [CN]

***SPOILERS*** THIS POST CONTAINS HEAVY SPOILERS FOR CONTENT NOT YET RELEASED ON EN SERVER!!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!!***

For the previous translations of Season 2 Chapter 8: Part 1

Enjoy~

[Scramble]

Tomorrow is Kiro’s new song conference.

This will be Kiro’s first public appearance since the “black powder incident”.

There are still many things to prepare and Kiro’s plan to “disappear out of thin air” has been resolved and things are on track again.

Such an ordinary and busy life makes me feel a long-lost sense of peace.

At 7 o’clock in the evening, I opened the door of the office and put my coffee and supper for overtime work on the table, but found that everyone was gathered around watching something.

MC: What’s going on?

Kiki: A large passenger plane almost crashed.

Kiki spoke and pointed to the live video taken by a witness on the screen.

Kiki: I heard that the aircraft was affected by strong air currents which caused the aircraft’s instruments to malfunction. During landing, it almost ran off the runway. Look, it’s so thrilling!

MC: Are there any casualties?

Willow: Although it landed safely, there is probably still some psychological aftermath.

Willow: By the way, boss, didn’t you also go to the airport today? Didn’t you know how serious it was?

I took the newspaper and scanned the headlines that were in bold.

“Fright in the air—Captain Evolver turned the tide and saved 189 passengers”—Was it that serious?!

Kiki: In fact, it is also a good thing. The relationship between ordinary people and Evolvers was so tense some time ago. This news can ease the relationship.

Kiki: Oh yeah, boss, here is the venue layout for the new song conference. You can take a look.

Kiki’s words brought me back to the present, and I took the plan from her.

The company attaches great importance to this event and has specially contracted the central square with the largest traffic in the city center and selected 3000 fans to participate in this new song launch event.

The surrounding LED screens and bus stations were all taken over by Kiro advertisements and even the subway stations printed the promotion of Kiro’s new song release in advance.

MC: Our security measures must be handled well, and there must be no mistakes and follow-up propaganda must be kept up while the iron is hot.

MC: Wait a minute, what’s that webpage right there?

Kiki: Oh, this—

Willow: …Don’t look at it, boss.

I didn’t listen and grabbed the mouse and clicked on the webpage. As soon as I looked, the huge bold words caught my attention.

“Freshly released--11th Annual Lightning Protection Ranking for Media Graduate’s Employment”

Kiki: Boss, your approval rate is only 10%.

Willow: You have to add the votes cast by a few of us to switch back and forth for you.

MC: ….Why are you so concerned about such boring things!

Willow: Hehe, this is not for you to fight injustice.

Kiki: But don’t worry, as long as Kiro stands on the stage, everything will be fine. He is our ace artist.

I clicked on the comment section of “Miracle Finder” and found that there were still many insults against the show and Evolvers.

Kiki: Speaking of, there was a high school student who came to the company last week and said he was looking for the boss. His words were very intense and I didn’t know why.

Kiki: It could also be affected by recent public opinion to express dissatisfaction with our program.

Thinking of countless harassing calls, rumors from the outside world, obstacles and prejudices during the filming of “Miracle Finder”…

I couldn’t help but clench my fists. Then, my heart ignited an unprecedented fighting spirit.

MC: Alright, it’s time to kick away the negativity and theories that have accumulated before!

The cold light from above shines into the empty, confined dim space. The dark grey staircase in the middle continues to spiral up like a snake sleeping in the shadows.

??: Sir, the undercover agents F-45 and U-2 of the Task Force have died.

??: …Also, the young man said that no more medicine will be provided to us during this time. If we want to trade, we need to show greater sincerity.

Thinking of the dark gray-eyed youth, the reporting man showed fear on his face.

??: …The experimental record of the transaction at the auction is indeed fake and it appears to be bait released by B.S. itself.

The man in the wheelchair did not respond and seemed not to care about the news reported by his subordinate.

He only looked at the detailed information in his hand.

“The Inverted Smile Film and Television Company’s veteran variety show “Miracle Finder” has reached a new record. The company and the Task Force have reached a filming cooperation and the crime documentary has been a great success”…

His gaze fell on a line of words, showing a thoughtful expression.

It turns out that the producer who was taken away by the Task Force is also from B.S.

A smiled appeared on his lips and his fingers seemed to tap the handrail lightly in a steady rhythm.

??: Sir, we can’t wait any longer. The organization’s recent actions have been constrained everywhere. We must find the person behind it…..

The man in the wheelchair raised his head and looked at his subordinate gently.

??: Don’t worry, there is still plenty of time.

??: When the fish bites the hook and jumps out of the water, you will naturally see the person fishing on the other end.

??: Right now, we have found the best fish to bite the bait.

[Bad Signs]

With Kiro’s return, my work has been on the right track.

The days seem to blend together and there has been no room for breathing.

Early the next morning, I drowsily walked out the gate of the residence, ready to go to the company.

A newsstand was set up next to the entrance and several people were distributing free newspapers while saying something to the pedestrians passing by.

Enthusiastic woman: Hey, miss, come here.

MC: Ma’am, what is it?

I took the newspaper from her in wonder. My eyes quickly swept across the headlines of today’s news.

“In-depth restoration of airport accident; the flight nearly crashed due to the Captain’s Evol!?!”

I skimmed through the full article and found that today’s news’ explanation of the aviation accident was a big reversal compared to yesterday.

It turned out that the accident wasn’t caused by turbulence, but because the captain’s Evol was out-of-control.

Yesterday’s news was just to quell the recent series of press releases against Evolvers, concealing the facts.

Is that really the case….

Looking at the vicious words above, I frowned slightly.

The people handing out the newspapers yelled the truth about the media’s hidden information while continuing to distribute newspapers to passing pedestrians.

The crowd of onlookers whispered on one side and from time to time, their conversations trickled into my ears.

Passerby A: The truth about yesterday’s emergency landing accident was not what was reported on TV at all.

Passerby B: Obviously this Captain’s out-of-control Evol affected the flight and yet they said he was a hero. I think this kind of person shouldn’t be in this type of industry.

Passerby C: Yeah, Evolvers shouldn’t be engaged in this kind of business when they are responsible for public safety!

The ridicule of Evolvers and the dissatisfaction with the truth about the media hiding things continued on. Some are justified but some are just unfounded.

Hearing everyone’s increasingly violent words, my heart feels weak.

The life that has been calm for a short time seems to have caused waves again.

As soon as I got to the company, my cell phone rang and I saw it was an unfamiliar number.

MC: Hello? May I ask who’s calling?

The other end was quiet for a while, and then I heard a somewhat stiff voice.

??: Cancel today’s event or you will face the consequences.

The person on the other end deliberately lowered his voice but I could still tell that he was a young boy.

MC: Sorry, I don’t understand what you are talking about.

MC: Hello…?

He suddenly hung up.

I was confused and wanted to call back but only the sound of a dial tone was heard.

Getting all kinds of strange phone calls these days, I didn’t pay too much attention to it but I still increased security measures for the afternoon activities.

I put down my phone and looked up at the weather outside the window feeling a little disturbed.

In any case, I hope everything goes well in the afternoon.

On the empty train station platform, a staff member made an announcement, urging passengers to leave.

After confirming that no one remained, he walked out of the kiosk, put a “suspended operation” sign in front of the train and left.

In a corner where no one noticed, the elevator door slowly opened and a thin boy stepped out.

He lowered his head and walked to the car door, slightly raised his hand and the sign was pushed aside.

When he raised his hand again, the train door seemed to be torn open arbitrarily by some force.

The boy went straight in.

The quiet train suddenly rumbled and lurched forward.

-End of Part 2-

Continue to Final Part 

[queen--kenobi]

OK, Literally sending this only for the knifetights gif, but jed w/ either cat.2 #10 or cat.4 #5 please lmfaooo

50 Reasons to have Sex

‘you just walked into my office for a job as my secretary/assistant and we haven’t seen each other in years, but sexual tension is a thing’ sex

‘we’re in a public place and i just spent the last half hour making you ridiculously aroused’ sex

Both with Jed Olsen x AFAB!reader

Warnings: Oh my god okay. Heavily NSFT. Knife play, Dom/sub dynamics, semi-public sex, exhibitionism, light orgasm control, power imbalance, and implied cum eating

Aforementioned gif is at appropriate point in the story,

It was your first week at the Roseville Gazette.

A scandal had broken out recently, something to do with the head of the paper prioritizing articles from female journalists that slept with him. Of course, it was a PR nightmare. They fired him and brought you in as his replacement. Your work precedes you. This wasn’t the first time you had saved a newspaper that was floundering due to a scandal. You doubt that it would be the last time.

The work you had to do was tremendous to say the least. You weren’t aware how deep the scandal went until you talked to the owner of the paper. Not only did you have to clean up the paper’s reputation, you also had to deal with the day to day operations of it. Naturally, you asked for some sort of help. By the end of the week, you had a list of all the potential candidates. You’d been interviewing them, and one person remained.

Jed Olsen. He was the current editor-in-chief, so he would have a good handle on the daily operations. That would be useful to you. His name seemed familiar, but you weren’t sure where you might have met him. He had gone on vacation shortly before the transition began, so you hadn’t had a chance to meet him until now. He was supposed to stop by your office soon, within the next five minutes. You kept yourself busy as you waited; you had too much to do to wait around for him and do nothing. A knock at your door makes you lift your head slightly from your work.

“Come in.” You call. You look up as Jed walks in.

Your mouth goes dry. You suddenly remember where you met him. Jed looks at you. A smile, slightly cruel, graces his face.

“Shut the door behind you.” You tell him as you lean back in your chair. It had been years since you’d seen him. The last time you’d seen him was at a holiday party for your first job. He’d been transferring to a different paper. At the time, you didn’t want him to leave. You had grown attached to him, despite the fact you knew it wasn’t a good idea. That was never the terms of your arrangement.

“Sure thing, boss.” The last word holds a mocking edge to it. You can tell from the glimmer in his eyes that he recognizes you. You almost wish he didn’t. He turns and shuts the door, the ‘click’ seeming so loud in the silence. He turns to look at you, and his smile turns into a mocking grin. “Long time no see.”

“Not long enough.” Your response is cold. He makes a wounded noise and puts a hand over his heart. You gesture for him to take a seat.

“Is that anyway to treat your old co-worker?” He teases. He pauses by the chair before doing as you said. He appraises you from the other side of the desk. 

“Forgive me for my lapse in professionalism.” Your tone is dry. You eye him. “I heard you’re editor-in-chief. Congratulations.”

He dips his head briefly. “Thanks. So you’re the new boss man, huh?”

“Yes. They sent me to deal with the...” You pause, trying to find the right word. “Delicate situation here.”

“So, what? They put you on clean-up crew?” He snorts. You smile at him. It’s a little more toothy than a friendly one would be.

“The power structure is different this time around, Jed.” You lean forward. “You’d do well to remember that.”

One of his eyebrows shoots into his hairline. He doesn’t look scared. In fact, he looks positively delighted. 

“Are you threatening me?” He asks, his amusement evident in his tone.

“No. I’m giving you a piece of advice is all.” You lean back in your chair. You want to tell Jed that you’re different now, you’re not the same girl who went crazy over him to the point of stupidity. You don’t. That would give him too much power. Instead, you shuffle your papers around. “Tell me the power structure around here. Not the one by jobs. That means nothing. Tell me who’s really in charge of what.”

If Jed is surprised by your change in attitude towards him, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he begins giving you the low down of what exactly went on around the office. You interlace your fingers as you listen to him. You frown, and the frown deepens with each passing minute. They should have sent you out here much sooner than they did; this place was an absolute mess.

“Shit.” You breath when Jed finally finishes talking. You have to resist the urge to rub your temples. “This is going to be a fucking mess.”

You’re going to need his help.

Oh goddammit. That’s the last thing you wanted was to ask for his help. You look up across the desk. Jed is staring at you with one eyebrow raised, a sly smirk playing about his features.

“I’m going to need your help.” You let out a resigned sigh. “Please.” You tack on as an afterthought. You know him and know that you can’t give him an opening to make you grovel. He pretends to think about it, tapping his fingers against his chin.

“Sure.” You watch him carefully. “On one condition.”

“What is it?” 

“Once this is over with, I want your job.” His tone is blunt. You nearly let out a sigh of relief. You were bracing yourself for the worst, but this wasn’t bad at all. It was actually mild by his standards.

“Done.”

********************************************************************************************************

Unfortunately for you, getting things organized requires a lot of long nights working with Jed. You imagine that you wouldn’t have time to sleep if you didn’t have his help, so you’re somewhat grateful. 

The problem was that Jed clearly didn’t like the new dynamic. You could see it in the way he’d look at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention and in the way his jaw would set when you ordered him to do something. You knew it was only a matter of time before he tried to flip the dynamic. 

It starts subtle. First, he starts by standing a little closer to you than necessary. Fine, whatever. You’re a professional. You can deal with this. You can ignore the way your heart flutters. Then, he starts touching you more often. Not enough to be suspicious, but enough that you notice. He lets his fingers brush against yours when he hands you a stack of documents, he ‘accidentally’ brushes against you when reaching for something, he even stands right beside you so that your upper arms nearly touch. It’s starting to drive you insane. You think it might be doing the same thing to him. You notice that he becomes less and less subtle as the weeks go by. You can see his patience beginning to wear thin by the six month of nothing from you.

By month seven, he’s practically touching you at every given opportunity. It gets to the point that you can hear people whispering as you walk down the hall, wondering when you and Jed were just going to come out with it. That makes you want to scream. It doesn’t help that some of the reporters have started to give you a dirty look when they think you’re not looking. One of the female reporters, who you suspect has slept with Jed before, becomes outright hostile towards you. You want to address this problem with all the employees, but you don’t know how. What would you even say? So you try to ignore it as best you can.

It’s another late night for you and Jed. He’s been looking at you and not the articles he’s supposed to be reviewing.

“We should go get dinner.” You look up from your own pile of work. “I mean actually go out. Get out of the office.”

“I don’t think so.” You try to keep your tone neutral. Jed gives you an appraising look.

“They’re already talking. So it doesn’t matter if someone sees us.” You close your eyes. You set down your pen.

“That’s not why I said no.” You pinch the bridge of your nose. Jed is silent for a long moment before he starts laughing. It’s deep and almost malicious, as if he’s found out some sort of secret. Your eyes snap open.

“What?”

“You still want to fuck me. After all this time.” He sounds positively delighted with himself. “You don’t trust yourself around me.”

You let out a snort. “Keep telling yourself that.”

You don’t like the way his eyes glitter. Something dark and mischievous is in his expression. He doesn’t say anything more, just returns to his work. The bastard hums as he does so.

His plan comes to fruition the next day. It’s not too long before 5, so there’s plenty of people still in the office. Your office has windows, so anyone can see in and you can see out. Jed comes in and perches himself on the end of your desk. He shut the door behind him as he came in and locked it. You narrow your eyes at him.

“You know.” He begins conversationally. That puts you on alert. “I was thinking.”

“God help us all.” You lean back in your chair.

“That mouth of yours will get you into trouble.” Jed picks up a pen and points it at you. You tilt your head. You aren’t sure if that’s a general warning or if he’s making a promise. “I should have kept you around.”

You blink. You’re too stunned to say anything. That was the last thing you expected from him.

“You were so into me that I could have gotten you to do anything I wanted.” You huff. “No, I’m not talking crime. I’m talking more...” He pauses as if in thought. You don’t believe him. “If I had asked you to suck me off under the desk, you would have done it. No questions asked.”

Heat starts to creep into your face. “At that time, yes.” You nod in acknowledgement. “But not anymore.”

“What if I make it up to you?”

“What?” Your tone goes up in pitch for a second, and you look at him. He shrugs.

“You heard what I said. I’m willing to let you take all your... frustrations out on me.”

“No. Absolutely not.”

He grins at you. “Oh, come on. You mean to tell me that you never thought about taking it out on me? You seem like the kind of girl that would want to do that. Rough a guy up and then fuck him senseless.”

“We’re not having this conversation.” You go to stand up. Jed rolls his eyes.

“Relax. No one is going to say anything. It’s Friday. They’re too busy thinking about what bar they’re going to right after their shift.” Your eyes dart to look out your office windows. True, a lot of people have already filtered out. Jed’s smirk is knowing. “Real talk. When’s the last time you got laid?”

“None of your business.” You hate how easily he can get under your skin. He laughs.

“A while then, huh? Probably been too long. Just you and a toy.” He coos in mock sympathy. 

“I am your boss, and I wi-”

“No you won’t.” He gives you a pointed look. “You need me too much. Now, answer me.” He makes sure that he’s looking you right in the eye. “If I were to say that I wanted to fuck you right now, would you let me?”

Your eyes dart again to the windows. You really don’t like where this is headed. No one is out in the office that you can tell. Jed looks positively delighted.

“Because. If you said yes, I’d do it. I’ve been thinking about you for months now. Thinking about how fucking tight you are. Thinking about all those little noises you make especially when you’re close. Thinking about how your eyes roll back into your head when I hit just the right spot.”

It’s very hard to keep your breathing even. He seems to know this, seems to be able to zero in on your weaknesses. 

“I’ve been thinking about that time you let me cut up all your clothes. I just couldn’t wait to get my hands on you.”

“Close the blinds.”

“I’m sorry?” Jed’s grin lets you know that he heard exactly what you said.

“Close the fucking blinds before I think better of this.” You snap. He hops off the end of your desk with a chuckle.

“Yes ma’am.” He quickly and efficiently shuts the blinds. You clear off a space on your desk, making sure to stack things instead of sweeping it all to the side. He saunters back over to you once he’s shut all the blinds.

“The door is locked?”

“I’m not stupid.”

“Good. Give me the knife.” Jed blinks. He actually looks taken aback, as if you’d managed to surprise him. You hold your hand out. “You wouldn’t bring that knife up unless you had one on you. Now. Give me. The knife.”

“Oh, I should have pissed you off much sooner.” He purrs. He puts one of his feet up on the chair beside the desk and rolls up his pant leg. Sure enough, he’s got a knife strapped to the side of his calf, hidden by his socks. He takes it and holds it out to you. Just outside of your reach, of course. You have to come around to get it; you can’t lean over the desk.

You should have known it was a trap. Jed grabs your wrist as soon as you reach for it and pulls you close to him. He hooks his arm under yours, across your chest, and places his hand on your throat. You’re pulled right up against him. You elt out a snarl, and that makes Jed laugh.

“Did you really think I’d hand this over?” He taps your nose with the handle. You try to bite his hand, and he laughs. “Here’s how this is going to go. I’m going to sit in my future chair,” He jerks his head to indicate your desk chair, “and you’re going to strip and sit up there until I say otherwise.”

“What makes you think I’ll listen?” Jed smirks.

“I just know.” He lets go of you and roughly pushes you away from him. You stumble several paces. He strides over to your side of the desk and sits in your chair. You stare at him for a long moment. He raises an eyebrow.

Oh, you really fucking hate him. 

Your blazer is already on the back of the chair. You undo your blouse quickly, but Jed ‘tsk’s.

“Come on. I want a show.” He’s placed the tip of the knife on the wood of your desk. He’s idly spinning the knife with one finger. You narrow your eyes at him but do as he says. Once your shirt is opened, you leave it on as you take off your bra. It’s open enough to show the swell of your breasts but nothing more than that. You place your bra on the other chair, keeping the shirt draped open. Jed’s eyes darken. You kick off your heels.

You scoot past him and stand by the desk, leaning back onto it slightly. You shimmy out of your skirt, letting it drop to the floor. Jed’s eyes watch your every movement. You go to hop up on the desk, but Jed takes a hold of your wrist.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” He asks with a pointed look at your shirt. You raise your eyebrow.

“You wanted a strip tease, you’re getting it.” He lets go. You hop up onto the desk. You swing your legs up and under you, tucking them under yourself. As you do so, you turn so you’re facing away from him. Slowly, you shrug your shirt off. The chair squeaks as Jed gets out of it. He stands right behind you so that his chest is touching your now bare back. 

“Tease.” He accuses. You don’t have time to respond before you feel the cold knife pressed against your lower back. You shoot him a look, and he just grins. “You took too long.”

The knife slices through your panty hose like it’s nothing. You’re glad that you decided to forgo underwear today. You had made the decision so you wouldn’t have a panty line. You didn’t think this would happen.

“Those were expensive!” Jed laughs and places the knife on the bookshelf behind your desk.

“I’ll get you new ones.” Both of you know he doesn’t mean that. He huffs and steps back. “Down. Bent over the desk.”

You do as he says. You hop down and then turn back around to face the desk, placing your forearms on it and bending over. A ripping noise cuts through the air as Jed tears the hose apart with his hands. The material sticks to your ass but leaves enough room for someone to get to your pussy. Which Jed promptly does. He runs his fingers along your slit with a curse.

“Already fucking wet, huh?” He teases. “Wonder what could have caused that.” He snakes his other hand under you and begins rolling one of your nipples between his thumb and forefinger. You buck, unsure which sensation you’re chasing. He laughs, low and dark. When his thumb finds your clit, your knees nearly buckle.

“It’s okay.” You can hear the grin in his voice. “I’ve got you”  He pinches your nipple, making you jolt. He rubs slow circles as he pinches and pulls and tugs on your nipples, switching from one to the other. It’s embarrassing how wet you get. By the time Jed takes mercy on you and slides a finger into you, you’re practically dripping. 

“I think.” He tries to go for conversational, but he’s a little out of breath. “I think you missed this. I think you missed me fucking you silly.” You’re so wet that he easily slips another finger into you. Despite yourself, you push your hips back towards him. “Yeah, that’s right. You fucking did.”

“God. Shut up.” You press your forehead to the desk. Jed quickly moves his hand that’s playing with your breasts out from under you to grab your hair. He yanks your hair, lifting your head so that you’re forced to arch your back to see him.

“No hiding.” He taunts. He scissors his fingers, and your thighs begin to tremble. He’s forced your back into a deep arch. It’s not long before he pulls his fingers from you.  You have to bite down on your tongue to keep from whimpering at the loss.He quickly undoes his pants with one hand.

Jed wastes not time at all. Once he’s out of his slacks, he takes himself in hand and slams into you, not giving you time to adjust. Normally, your head would fall forward, but he’s still got a grip on your hair. He leans forward so you can see him. The fucking smug grin on his face shouldn’t be that hot.

“God. Fuck.” He manages through gritted teeth, stilling once he’s all the way inside you. “You’re so fucking tight jesus. Why the hell did I ever let this go?” He doesn’t give you a chance to reply, just starts a brutal and punishing pace. Your hands try to find something to grab on the desk. Jed has fucked you, but never like this. This is raw intensity, the kind that has your knees shaking in no time. It doesn’t help that he keeps his eyes locked onto yours the whole time.

“Yeah, that’s right.” He pants. “No one has fucked you this good, huh? No one can fuck you like me. Oh fuck. I felt that. Yeah, you like being reminded that no one can fuck you like I can? That’s what you’ve wanted this whole time, isn’t it? A reminder of what you’ve been missing out on.”

You want to tell him to shut the fuck up, but you can’t find the words. Instead, all you can do is moan and whimper. Jed lets go of your hips and moves the now free hand down to your clit.

“Yeah, that’s right. This is mine, isn’t it?” You try to formulate words. You must be taking too long because Jed actually slaps your clit. You jolt and give him what you hope is a withering look. He just chuckles. “I’ll kiss it better later. Right after you tell me who’s this is.”

“Yours.” You manage to choke out. He lets out a satisfied hum.

“And who’s the only one that can fuck you like this?”

“You.” Your voice comes out wrecked. Jed smirks.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that. Repeat, fuck, repeat that for me?”

You want to tell him to go fuck himself, but you can. “You.” Your voice is louder. He grins.

“That’s what I fucking thought.” He starts rubbing circles around your clit, and you swear you can see stars. It’s not long before you can feel the beginnings of an orgasm cresting. You’re just about to fall over the edge when he slows his movements.

“Surely you haven’t forgotten the rules.” He lilts.

If you were in your right mind, you’d think of all the ways you were going to get back at him. Instead, you whimper. “Can I cum?” He hums in thought. He snaps his hips hard, making you squeak.

“I don’t know...”

“Please, please let me cum.” You’re pretty sure your whimpering turns into begging towards the end. Jed grins.

“Since you asked so nicely...” He doubles down his pace, and you have to bite your shoulder to keep from screaming. His fingers find your clit, and it’s not long before you reach that precipice again. You barrel over it, Jed not far behind. You can feel yourself squeezing him as he cums inside of you. He lets go of your hair. Your head falls forward, and he rests his head between your shoulder blades. The two of you stay there for a moment. Slowly, he pulls out. You expect him to slap your ass and get dressed. Instead, he carefully turns you around so you’re facing him.

“Up.” He pats the desk. On shaky legs, you do so. He spreads your legs and groans at the sight of his cum dripping out of you. You watch him curiously. He looks at you with a positively sinful grin. “I told you I’d kiss it better, didn’t I?”

You can’t find it within you to complain.

[perthshirecottage]

Okay this wound up way longer than I thought it was going to. I was thinking about little Five in the apocalypse and finding Vanya’s book. Has anyone ever thought about how much Vanya’s book influenced Five and his perception of his siblings? Because I think about that and I haven’t really seen too many posts about that so here’s my two cents.

Five was only 13 when he got stuck in the apocalypse and yet he comes back acting like he knows these 29 years old versions of his siblings. Five obsessively reading the book actually explains why he comes back and immediately thinks every single one of his siblings besides Vanya are stupid and useless despite not having seen any of them in 45 years. The book would have been written to make Vanya the poor sympathetic victim and her father and siblings the villain of her story. 45 years is a long time and I’m sure Five has forgotten plenty of details about his siblings. He still has his own faded memories of the people he remembers and so he might remember bits and pieces that weren’t in the book but those memories would be influenced by the things Vanya had written and perhaps make him question if he was remembering correctly. Not to mention Vanya’s book is the only written account of the kind of people they became and Vanya made sure she was the only one who came across in a flattering light. Five would have read about Klaus and his spiral into addiction and how he stole and lied to his siblings. How Allison became even more shallow and vain. How Luther was almost cruel in his need to be the leader, acting more and more like dad every day. Deigo was selfish and only cared about making sure everyone knew he was better than them and he was angry and bitter when he couldn’t. And Vanya would have written herself as the saint who endured all of this only to be tossed aside like a broken doll that no one wanted. Of course Five is going to lean towards seeing things Vanya’s way. Her voice is the only influence he had on knowing who his siblings became. The only fact that Five would have kept alive outside of Vanya’s influence is that he loves his siblings. I don’t say any of this to diminish what Vanya went through. She *did* suffer. But so did everyone else in that house. And Vanya’s book would not have shown that because she didn’t think anyone else suffered the way she did. She thought she was treated horribly and abused while her siblings were living the high life of being extraordinary and that she had to be the martyr for living through that. So Five, young and impressionable and all alone would have had Vanya’s voice in his ear telling him all the reasons why she was the only good person in that house, the only one that was competent and could be trusted. Five would have felt more of a kinship towards Vanya than anyone else because her book would have endeared him to her. Unfortunately when he got there and Vanya didn’t believe him it went against the Vanya that Five had created in his head. Because none of Five’s siblings were quite the people that Vanya had portrayed in her book, not even herself. And Five has had to adapt to anything the world has thrown at him so he just rolls with it. He also didn’t have time feel any loss at his preconceived notions being wrong because, you know the apocalypse was in 8 days.

I don’t know the exactly what the kids’ relationships were like growing up, and I know that Vanya wrote about how Five was her only confidant. How he was the only one who cared, but that is the voice of someone who is 15 years past what happened and seeing things with rose tinted glasses. I know the popular opinion is that Five and Vanya were the absolute best of friends and everyone else was just sort of there, but that’s based on a head shake, a name called, what Vanya said, and the fact the Five went to Vanya first. That’s not to say that Five and Vanya were not friends, but I don’t think that Vanya was Five’s only friend. Because of their dad’s influence no one wanted to hang out with Vanya that much but since Five did that meant that he was her best friend. And Five left and so those are the memories that Vanya held onto to but I highly doubt that Five hung out with Vanya and only Vanya. The fact that Five had enough love and connection to endure 45 years of hell to get back to his entire family and not just Vanya shows that five had to have had an honest connection to *all* of his siblings. At 13 I’m sure that Five played with all of his siblings and had a relationship with each of them. In flashbacks he was arrogant and smart but also a little silly and playful and he wasn’t as stressed and mean as he is in the show because he hadn’t endured 45 years of trauma. And while yes, I do think Five was probably closer to Klaus, Ben, and Vanya, if only because Allison and Luther were caught and up in each other and Diego had latched into their mom, it doesn’t mean that Five didn’t hang out with people who weren’t Vanya. He would have bonded with everyone else over things that Vanya couldn’t understand. Vanya thought getting a tattoo would have been cool, and wanted one only because she was left out while everyone else knew how frightening and traumatic the whole thing was. Vanya didn’t endure training sessions and know how brutal those could be. She didn’t go on missions and experience how thrilling they could be when they went right but that also meant she never felt the panic and desperation and fear when they went wrong. Back to my point which is that Vanya would have only had good things to say about Five and how close they were. Vanya probably would have written about how everyone didn’t seem to mind that much about Five going missing because that gave them more room to shine and how she was the only one to make him peanut butter and marshmallow sandwiches and leave the lights on for him because she was his best friend and the only one who cared about him. so of course Five is going to come out years later remembering how close he and Vanya were because her book would have influenced his memories. He wouldn’t as clearly be able to remember joking around with Klaus or sitting around complaining about training with Diego or those moments where he and Ben would sit in compainiable science while reading or how he and Luther would excitedly talk about whatever new science fact they had learned that day or how he and Allison would laugh over some of the more ridiculous articles that were written about the esteemed Umbrella Academy. Vanya’s account of their friendship would have made Five feel closer to her than anyone else. And I’m sure Five would have felt a connection to Vanya’s portrayal of complete isolation. Five understands on a visceral level what it means to be cut off from everyone and everything and he would have felt this kinship with Vanya over that as well.

Which brings us to season 2. Five still loves Vanya and wants to protect her, but Vanya also isn’t the same person he thought she was. She is more angry and vindictive than he thought. And the rest of the siblings aren’t quite what Five had built up in his head either. Klaus isn’t just a lying junkie, but also empathetic and sad. Diego isn’t just an angry number 2 but has a protective streak a couple miles wide. Luther isn’t just Dad’s lackey but is someone who just wants to protect his family but is floundering in figuring out who he is. Allison isn’t completely focused on herself but wants to be a better sister, a better person. Five is reminded more of the people he knew when he was 13. He is reminded that Vanya has some bad qualities but that those don’t diminish the good ones. He is also reminded that the others are not just the horrid useless people from Vanya’s book, but people who are hurting just like him (even if he still knows he had it worst) and who are good and loving people that he wants to reconnect with. And so seeing them in this new light and also realizing that leaving people out of the loop is what caused the last apocalypse, Five puts more trust in his family and tries to bring them together to stop this new apocalypse. He wants to be closer and work with and spend time getting to know this version of his siblings. In S1 when Five is given a minute to breathe because he thinks the apocalypse is over, he realizes that all he wants to do is grow up and be with his family. He wants to just be, without a mission, without an apocalypse. He is tired of fighting and clinging to rage to keep his adrenaline up just so he can function to get through his exhaustion and pain to save the world. He wants to connect to his family. He wants to know all of them. And Five is willing to do whatever he has to get the chance to truly know his siblings on his own terms and not through someone else’s skewed perspective. Five is even willing to fight Vanya because again, he is seeing that she is willing to toss away all of his hard work because she cares more about her selfish desires than going home which is all Five has wanted for 45 years not to mention the fact that he hasn’t had a single break in two weeks. Of course it’s not just Vanya, everyone does get sidetracked by their own personal problems and Five winds up just about losing his mind. Even older, younger Five shows that Five is automatically going to side with Vanya for destroying the world. This Five hasn’t been rejected by Vanya or seen her get angry or been reminded that his family is more than just the bad people in Vanya’s book so when he finds out that Vanya destroyed the world because she was ignored then he is like yeah that tracks. Five has seen all of his siblings too long through Vanya’s eyes and he deserves the chance to know them himself.

Five has lived far longer without his family than he did with them plus he was so young when he left that he wouldn’t have had that many years of concious memories. So Vanya and her book would have had just as much of an impact on his life as the apocalypse did.

[coreastories]

Modern Royals: 10 Times the King and Queen of Corea made ahjummas ugly-cry over their romance

You know what this author loves about Corea? The delightful mix of tradition and modernity

I mean, in this country, you have visiting and dining etiquette, respectful address etiquette, and countless other delicious customs steeped in tradition. Catholicism with its millennia-old ceremonies is also a favored religion

On the flipside, this country has rock-solid laws on divorce, equal rights, and zero tolerance for  rape and abuse or discrimination of ANY sort

I’m quite in love with this country. Its people are well taken care of

And of course, the biggest deliciousness for me are Their Majesties

Shrouded in privacy and that same tradition I just mentioned, the king married the queen in July

In the course of a few weeks since the wedding, the queen endeared herself to her people, and even made friends with the Prime Minister, a formidable woman who was herself previously linked to the King (entirely one-sided pursuit on her part)

It’s now October, and we’re happily expecting the first royal baby in May!

I’ve seen some colleagues in the media voice that thought we’ve all had: “They didn’t take long.” 

I’ve also seen comparisons with Meghan Markle and Prince Harry and Baby Archie, who was born only a few days shy of his parents first anniversary. Corea’s royal baby will be born two whole months before his/her parents’ first anniversary. 

So this little article seems absolutely timely!

It sounds trite, I know, but lists are all the rage these days. Add Corea’s royal romance and this article will pay for my office’s bills for two months.  

This is with sanction from the Royal Public Affairs Office, who I’ll never cross, and who also gave me some background where they could or would.  

1. Who can forget the breathless kisses in New Zealand? 

Well, they made us breathless. Taken from Chateau Maryleone-- a security breach that apparently got people fired. If it was originally a video footage, we don’t know. Only the photos were spread online. 

The world is in love with this smiling kiss. 

The Royal Public Affairs Office’s only comment here is: “We’ve found the parties involved and they have been summarily dealt with.” 

You can see why I would never dream of crossing them. 

2. The snuggle at Pyeongyang Children’s Hospital

The new digital diagnostics wing was inaugurated in July. If this author remembers right, two of the queen’s photos made it to a list of 7 Times the Queen of Corea Stole Our Hearts with Her Smile. 

Children, parents, media, and hospital staff loudly showed their approval of the queen then, and she had laughingly and shyly accepted it. 

Reports have emerged that the queen was quite overwhelmed, and had actually retreated to a room with the king. It was one of the new consultation rooms of the new wing, with glass windows. 

People saw the queen seek refuge in the king’s arms, hiding her face in his chest, and the king cradling her against him, arms around her, one hand stroking her hair. 

We don’t have photos, because none of the witnesses dared. But they’ve all reported and demonstrated it. I’m sighing here. 

3. The hand-in-pocket cuteness when we visited the palace before Queens Day 

You’ve read about this in the Royal Twinkle, of course! 

4. Turning up late and blushing during Queens Day

You also remember this from our recent report. Their Majesties turned up late for their scheduled appearance, and then the king was just a giggling mess in the dim part of the stage (stage right), and the queen just looked at him, blushing. 

The Royal Public Affairs Office almost had no comment, but remarked that the king and queen are newlyweds. Well, that’s exactly and the ajhummas and I said, didn’t we. 

5. Another hand-holding-and-tuck, also during Queens Day 

Remember the king looking anxious whenever the queen was onstage, despite the queen being surrounded by the Royal Guard? 

We have eyewitness reports from people closer to the stage, who have craned their necks or ducked between people’s onstage legs to get a glimpse of the king and queen whenever the guards surrounded them. 

Apparently, the king invariably fetched the queen in the same way. He would go on stage, take her hand with his left and hold her hand against his chest while his right hand and arm tucked her securely against his side. 

I love a man who’s so enamored of his wife he takes hold of her with both hands. 

6. The distraction during the Opening of Parliament in Seoul  

The Opening of Parliament is a series of ceremonies dating back to 1945, when the parliament was first established. We were hoping to see the queen accompany the king, but she had stayed in Busan-- and we now know the reason why, don’t we? 

In one of these ceremonies, the king was supposed to signal the Usher to open the door to summon the Ministers into Parliament.  

But the king had seemed transfixed by a bunch of forget-me-nots included in the predominantly blue flower arrangement in the Parliament’s subdued decorations for the occasion. 

Sources say the king had a fond expression on his face, and his eyes were, according to the reports, shining, like he was near tears. 

The Royal Public Affairs Office had no comment. It seems the significance of the forget-me-nots remains a secret between the King and Queen.  

Since then, forget-me-nots in pots and seeds and cultivars have sold out across the kingdom.  

7. Every time they step out of the car

This is an event people of Corea have come to watch, even more so than the actual events the king and queen attended. 

Unlike other royals who get their doors opened for them, the queen gets her door opened by none other than the king. 

It always happens this way. A member of the royal guard opens the king’s car door, the king steps out, and then he goes around the car to open the queen’s door. 

And then we watch with bated breath as the queen swivels in her seat to bring both legs and feet outside the car. The king’s hand is already waiting, and she takes it with one of hers. 

He helps her to her feet and then just smiles at her for long moments, head tilted to her, whether or not she’s also looking at him or is already distracted by the crowds. 

And they hold each other’s hands until they absolutely have to let go. Duties be damned. They’re working royals, yes, but they’re married and in love! 

It’s become a game among members of the media and event organizers to attempt to prolong that hand holding as long as possible. 

Ministers of Parliament and their wives-- the more popular ones-- always seem to have planned on holding something in their hands so that they only bowed to the king and queen and Their Majesties didn’t have to offer to shake hands. 

It’s ridiculous and yet delicious, the way this romance has united the country like this, both Parliament and public besotted with them.  

Their Majesties hold hands so romantically too. Their grip is always so visible, like they’re constantly gently squeezing each other’s hands. 

Corean celebrities and their own significant others imitate this on red carpets, calling it the royal handhold. 

8. An actual kiss after the Bureau of Fire Protection Annual Gala

No wonder the gala raised nearly a billion won. The queen had turned up unexpectedly, remember? 

And we’ve had matching stories from eyewitnesses who saw the queen’s car pull up to take her back to the palace. At the time, the Royal Guard had taken care of crowd control, to make sure only the queen was leaving at the time, with no other car waiting or leaving. 

But the gala had been held in a converted warehouse in Clearwater Bay, and as such, a doorway was practically an entire absent wall, so plenty of people had a vantage point of seeing the king stepping out of the car. 

The queen was visibly surprised to see him, and then she was gently greeted with a kiss before being just as gently ushered into the car. 

9. Every time the king broke the order of precedence-- and he continues to do so 

For state and diplomatic events, the order of precedence protocol dictates that the queen consort follows two steps behind the king. If they have a son, the crown prince will be next in line, literally, after the king, overtaking the queen consort unless His Majesty gives a king’s order about it. 

That king’s order is only a matter of time. I very much doubt the king or his heir will let the queen trail after them. 

Since their marriage, we’ve witnessed the king and queen attend two state events and one diplomatic event: the investiture of the re-elected Prime Minister in July, the 383rd anniversary of King Yeongjeong’s Defeat of the Qing Invasion in early August, and a return visit from Victoria, Crown Princess of Sweden. 

The PM’s investiture was held in the Royal Audience Hall, and the king and queen arrived when everyone was already seated. 

The anniversary was commemorated in King Yeongjong’s Memorial in Yeongjong Park in Busan, where Their Majesties were driven right up to the blue carpet leading to the memorial statue. 

For Crown Princess Victoria’s arrival, the king and queen publicly welcomed her at Busan Airport, with the heir of Sweden and Their Majesties of Corea walking toward each other to give and accept welcome.

In all three events, the king does walk ahead at first, but then he always stops and waits for the queen, turning back to her and putting an arm around her upper back. Then they walk side by side, or even with the queen slightly ahead of the king. 

We’ve seen the queen give the king a look, but the king just smiles at her, a restrained close-mouthed smile, or an outright grin, which was what he wore when they met Crown Princess Victoria, who is a friend. 

10. A hug after a long day in Busan. There’s so much love inside the palace. 

This one is from the Royal Public Affairs Office, captioned, “The king meeting the queen in the grounds after a long day.”

If you’ve been to the palace grounds for Queens Day, you will recognize this clock. It’s in the part of the extensive gardens open to the public, and it has a little coffee shop where you can taste the palace’s appointed teas, coffees and cakes.

The print came to us exactly like that-- it’s not the fault of our scanners. Perhaps it’s a stolen shot and our dear Mr. Jang Mi-reuk hastily took it and then made the photo grainy and overexposed when he hid his phone again? Who knows. 

And who cares?! 

Look at how the king holds the queen as if they’d been apart for days or weeks rather than hours. The press of his head to hers, the curl of his body around hers, and that hand cradling the queen’s head-- these all speak of his love for her, and I’m melting. 

That royal baby is going to be such a beloved baby. The royal parents certainly don’t shy away from displaying that love. 

I don’t want to leave Corea. I want to follow this happily ever after today and forever. 

More to come! Stay tuned. 

------------------------------------------------------

[bewaretheidesofmarchyall]

Soulmate Shenanigans Part Two (Electric Boogaloo)

Good morning (or at least, I’ve started writing this in the morning! Who knows when I’ll complete it)!

I’m continuing my Soulmate AU Tomfoolery (you can find part one here)

Prompt #2

There is a timer that counts down to when you will meet your soulmate.

Warnings for death mentions, and temporary major character death

World Building

Everyone blames the mad scientist.

Which is fair. When someone makes billions of clocks in about a weeks time, each declaring when everyone in the world (including people who wouldn’t be born for decades) would find their soulmate, it’s considered to polite to stick around to answer questions

Instead, Logan disappeared to who-knows-where and left everyone else to pick up the pieces. 

Rude.

Ever since the early 1910′s, the clocks have existed, one for each person. When any kid is born, the first thing a new parent does is rush to the register to see when they’ll meet their soulmate. It’s a big deal.

If your child isn’t going to meet their soulmate in the next 13 years, they are told the exact number on their 13th birthday

Philosophers have been enraged by all of this. Is free will a thing? Is existence a lie?

Non-philosophers will often close their curtains when they see a wandering philosopher, which are easy to identify by their look of abject confusion and plucked chickens.

Characters

Remus: Remus pretended that he didn’t care about who his soulmate was when his 13th birthday rolled along. He wasn’t the best actor.

His brother seemed happy when he found out that it would be sixteen years until he found his soulmate. 29 wasn’t a bad age at all, considering that some people would have to wait until they were old and in a nursing home, or would never even meet their soulmate at all.

Remus waited for his parents to tell him. They gave each other nervous looks, and he was convinced for a few seconds that he didn’t have a soulmate after all.

The actual answer was much weirder

526 years. 526 years until he met his soulmate.

Remus said a silent thank you to his soulmate for making him functionally immortal. After all, that meant that he’d survive until then!

HE WAS IMMORTAL

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Now, whenever someone would try to say something like, “Why do you like serial killers? Planning to become one?”, he could just look them dead in the eye and say,

I’m going to outlive you, Brian

(On an unrelated note, Brian disappeared a few months later. It actually wasn’t Remus’s fault, surprisingly. One minute, he was at a museum, the next, gone)

Remus would be fine with never finding his soulmate, honestly. Connection is nice, but being eldritch is more fun.

Virgil: Virgil didn’t want to be immortal

Sure, he wasn’t a fan of dying in practice, but in theory he didn’t want to live to over 250!

His family and friends were going to die, and he’d have to live through it. And for what? To meet a soulmate? Who gave a fuck? Virgil had never wanted a romantic relationship in his life, and he didn’t think that a 526 year wait was going to change that.

He was determined to find his soulmate early so that he could live a normal life like a normal person who doesn’t cause additional distress to the wandering philosophers.

 Plot

It was easy to find Remus. Local Child Will Live To Over 500 makes a good headline, and Remus wasn’t one to shy away from attention.

When Virgil was 16, he packed his bags and ran away from home to go meet his soulmate. He didn’t ask Janus how he got the bus tickets, but he did ask him to tell his parents that he’d be okay.

Virgil knocked on the door, and waited. Someone who looked almost exactly like the news site photo answered. The conversation went something like this:

Virgil: So, YOU’RE Remus McFricking Sanders-

Roman: Nope, not him, whatever he said isn’t my fault.

[Roman slams door]

Virgil was pretty sure that he had, in fact, met Remus, and he was just being annoying. Roman believed that his brother had just manage to piss off yet another person.

Virgil retreated to a restaurant, and looked up the photo on the news article, just to make sure. No denying it, that was him! Same eyes, same hair, same general face-wait. 

Remus had a nose that had obviously been broken at least once. The guy who’d greeted him at the door had definitely been in less scrapes than his soulmate.

Whoops.

Meanwhile, Remus had a plan to avoid Virgil at all cost. Virgil had tried to shy away from press attention, but he tracked down a photo eventually. 

And when his brother told him that some emo with “awesome” eyes had turned up on the doorstep looking for him, he had a bad feeling.

Well, spooky boy wasn’t going to cost him his long future.

And so the dance began.

In one corner, Virgil, who had spite, stubbornness, and a deadline on his side (he had to get home to his parents eventually)! Never discount a spiteful Virgil!

In the other corner, Remus, who has nothing on his side but fate. Fate, however, has a sense of humor, and Remus read enough old myths as a child to know that whatever happens can’t be changed by petty human actions.

Virgil tries breaking and entering many times, each failing in a more ridiculous way. He is a careful, but Remus is practically Kevin McCallister in terms of traps, and he fails to meet his soulmate face to face all day and all night.

They do get to have some verbal exchanges, which are pretty much

Virgil: You think you want the existential hell of immortality??

Remus: Oh, fuck off, I’m going to have the best vampire aesthetic!

Virgil: The vampire aesthetic is wonderful, but can we do everything for aesthetic?

Both at the same time: Yes. Yes we can.

And then Virgil is herded out of the house by Remus’s pet rats.

However, the final encounter goes a little differently. No witty quips, just Virgil picking the lock of yet another window, and then a very specific sound.

Have you ever heard a stubborn emo get pulled into a portal in the spacetime continuum?

It’s a distinct sound that is along the lines of loud crash-The fu-whirring noises-nyoom-eerie silence 

Remus didn’t give a second thought before diving into the portal after him. If he had, he would have thought hey, this’ll probably bring us face to face, something I’ve been avoiding or maybe jumping into random portals in a stupid idea or I’m going to grab a weapon before just running at it. But his first impulse was to make sure his snarky soulmate hadn’t died, so into the portal he went.

The Year: 2550

The Portal: Glows a lot, thank you for asking

The Reason: A mad scientist has only one thing left to lose, and is terrified as it slips away

Logan: Logan was a geek at heart. He loved science, in both theories and practice. He probably should have toned down his obsession with Nikola Tesla. He wanted to travel to the sky, and touch the stars, and watch time like a film reel. 

Time travel was his passion. If people could travel across the physical seas, why not the metaphorical ones of time?

It was pure luck that he actually figured it out, but figure it out he did. Logan loved his creation.

He wanted to create a million inventions, but more importantly he wanted Patton to see them all.

If there was one thing he loved more than science, it was him. 

The two kept each other from drifting off into the stars, or sinking into the dirt because they’re too afraid of being rude. One of Logan’s favorite memories was he and Patton running through the St. Louis fair, giggling at terrible puns and sharing a quick kiss out of sight, before catching the next exposition. 

Patton was kind, and caring, and knew how to talk to people to get them to like him, and was just good. He was good. 

Logan dealt only in facts. And it was a fact that it would have been better, more fair for Logan to have died in the fire.

It was a fact that he didn’t (even though it felt like it sometimes). It was a fact that Patton had been the one to notice the smoke. It was a fact that the love of his life waited for a few seconds in the doorway, trying to call the cat out. It was a fact that, after Logan was out of the house, he turned around to see the doorway collapse. 

He found a way back into the house, but it took too long. 

Fact: Humans can only endure severe smoke inhalation for a few minutes before dying.

Logan took one look at his time machine, somehow still undamaged. He’d never tested it before, but he really didn’t have a choice, so he kissed Patton on the forehead and stepped into a portal.

Back To The Plot

Virgil and Remus immediately knew that they were in the 26th century. 

How? There was a sign!

Hey! If You Happen To Be A Time Traveler, This Is 2550! Check In With The Lord Cerebrum To Know More, Unless You Don’t Have A License, In Which Case

You Know What Happens

They don’t have much time to mull over this before Remus tries to murder Virgil. He’s not IMMORTAL any more, and it’s not FAIR, and it’s all HIS fault!

This is where we enter the Rivals To Friends (While On The Run From Time Management) section

Remus and Virgil have many adventures escaping from Time Management, while learning to appreciate the other as a friend. They are platonic soulmates, after all!

But Time Management is nothing if not patient, and the boys are caught eventually (you know how it goes. You forget to check around for listening ears, you use 21st century slang, and suddenly a single “yeet” and a “same” get you dragged before the Lord Cerebrum)

A Handy Dandy Guide To The Year 2550 (transcript from the Handy Dandy Infomercial Station)

Hey, time travelers! I know that everyone likes zipping around the time-stream and seeing what the fates throw at them to keep them from murdering their grandpa, but we have to do this by the Rules!

If you break the rules, you know what happens

The Year 2550 is protected by Logos Industries’s time dilation filter, to ensure that no one gets the wrong idea about going free range!

If you have a license, just proceed to the Lord Cerebrum to get your stamp of approval and philosopher disguise for the maximum positive effect! After all, Logos Industries needs funding to protect us all!

If you don’t have a license, you’ll see the Lord Cerebrum too!

Have a Handy Dandy Time :)

Back To The Plot

The boys are led through a menacing government facility, taken to see the Lord Cerebrum. They try to ask questions, but Time Management is rather disinterested in their fleeting existence, so nothing much gets answered.

The final destination is a computer room, where the Lord Cerebrum sits. His form was half hologram, half skin, his age unchanging for 526 years, and recognizable at first sight to Remus

Lord Cerebrum, aka Brain, aka Brian: Hey, Remus, what exactly did you say about outliving me?

Brian: Brian was a dick. There’s no other way to put it. 

He and Remus used to be friends, sticking brand new phones in water to see what would happen and planning out pranks (they made their history teacher think that she was being haunted by the ghost of Charlemagne!), but things changed, and by 8th grade his dickishness was on full display

It was really easy to get away with being cruel to Remus. He naturally unnerved people, and anyone in a position of power immediately knew he was trouble (which was true), so when there was a conflicting story between a star student and the kid who poured ketchup in the principal’s desk, you can guess who’d always get believed.

Brian was a dick, but he was 13. He could have grown later in life, regretted his ways (or at least stopped), but instead he touched an antique time machine on a museum tour of the Clock House (home of Logan, the famous inventor of soulmate clocks). 

He’d been planning to snap off the handle and pin it on Remus (or maybe Roman for variety), but instead

Crash-what the-whirring noises-nyoom-eerie silence

And Brian arrived in the year 2520, the first of many time travellers.

He became a celebrity. The parts of him lost in the wormhole were quickly replaced with state-of-the-art holograms, and his fame went to his head.

Thirty years of good marketing later, he was the Lord Cerebrum. And when a desperate mad scientist came crashing through a portal of his own, it was easy to get him to work for him under the promise that Brian would let him save his “Patton” once he made some technology for him.

He recognized Logan from the museum. He knew who’s fault it was that he was trapped travelling through time, whirling through the portal, praying and promising and in the end just screaming. Brian knew who was to blame for the fact that he couldn’t tell how much of his body would stay when the power went out.

So the tasks got longer and more complicated, Patton dangled like a carrot over Logan’s head. 

Fact: Logan would never win, and someday Brian would get tired of this game and there would only be one genius left in 2550.

Back To The Plot: Virgil punched the Lord Cerebrum in the face. He didn’t know all of the context, but his best friend seemed not to like the guy, and he seemed evil, so he punched the overlord in the face.

Brian was offended, and abandoned all plans for a monologue in favor of leaving them to die.

The most fitting way to do away with a time traveler is to send them everywhere at once. It’s an awful death, one where molecules are slowly lost as the traveler in question hits walls and trees and memories.

The duo managed to survive five or so timelines, before the machine miraculously shut off. A mad scientist ran into the room, unscrewed the vents in the walls, and told the teenagers that they’re late.

Things are explained as they escape the facility.

Things

Logan needed a way to break the time dilation filter. He did the math (which he tried and failed to explain to the boys), and it was determined that Remus and Virgil had the most butterfly effect capabilities to influence this particular event

Basically, removing them from the timeline changed things just enough for Logan to find the chink in the filter’s armor. 

The duo’s job is done, and Logan is only sorry that he didn’t find them earlier to get them home.

Back To The Plot

Everything seems like it’s going to be fine, and the duo are almost able to go home, when the Lord Cerebrum finds them.

CLIMATIC SHOWDOWN

An Ending

In the end, Brian is sent to the 22th century, the year where nearly all of humanity were turned into giant rats for some reason

Logan found his way back to the 1910′s, and used the 26th century technology to heal his love. The time machine burned in the fire. Good. Space travel was where it was at, anyway.

Virgil had so much explaining to do to his parents

Remus knew that no one would believe him. Roman did.

Virgil and Remus stayed the closest of friends. They dressed up as vampires for Halloween. They stuck together. They got to grow up. 

More soulmate shenanigans, amiright?