#Blinking Red Podcast

[red-might-be-dead]

computer show me yuri

[bluetooththereptile]

Unwelcomed embrace (part two)

Yandere super family x neglected reader

( English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes in the following text.)

Note: this one shot is continuation of this one.

Tw: mentions of violence

"Why don't you have one of those small micro earphones that you attach to the collar of the clothing?" You groaned as you tried to find a good position to rest your hand on under the weight of the mic in your hand, you sighed as you looked at its round head, you didn't like it that much, it felt uneasy in your palm. The chair was too rigid for you to sit comfortably on it, creaking under your weight. You looked down at the mic that had a sock on as a muffler, smiling at the inventiveness of the reporter. "I presume your budget is not that much huh?" The reporter nodded with a sheepish smile as he tried to put on some powder to conceal some of the scar marks on your face, well, as much as your skin color let him do so. "Yeah..." he sighed "the budget is low."

You looked at him, focused on his task, young and ambitious, just like you, you felt like he had the same recklessness as well, why would a sane person come and meet a dangerous anti-hero over a post on Twitter? "Ready?" He asked as he adjusted his camera, you shifted on your seat once more, checking the dark background of the warehouse you were in, and then looked back at the shiny lens of the camera. You paused, still, your hand didn't have a good place to rest its elbow on, huffing in irritation, you rolled your eyes, you had to do something about it, if it kept irritating you, you'd end up messing everything up. So you focused on the cemented floor below, making a thick-bodied plant sprout out of the harsh floor and bend towards you, its leaves forming a cocoon, you smirked and put the mic on the head of the plant and used it as a stand, chuckling at the amazement of the reporter "Now I'm ready!"

"1...2...3..." the reporter spoke softly before the camera started filming and the red light on its front started blinking. "Alright, please introduce yourself..." he spoke to you behind the camera, tapping his pen nervously, you hummed to yourself and tapped your chin as you crossed your legs, trying to find a point to start from "I feel like a Podcaster now..." you joked, before clearing your throat as you started "Well, I'm what media used to call the "Green super" You used quotation marks in the air, your voice showing hints of your initial irritation to the name, which had associated you with superman since your powers were nearly the same. "But now I go with the Green Death, pretty cheesy, but I like it" you chuckled and continued "Well the name is not that far off from my personality either, I am green, my skin is that color."

"So, Green Death, your name has been on the news as the sole force that has kept the Armageddon from happening, twice, already, and now you, all of a sudden, while you had ignored the chance of interviewing with huge media broadcasters, have decided to have an interview now, here in the middle of nowhere, why is that?" You rubbed your chin as you thought about a response, your lips tilting upwards in a smirk "Well, now I have enough evidence to finally show the world who the heroes truly are." You paused, taking it the confused expression of the reporter, adding quickly "Make no mistake, I'm not going to expose their identities, that would make hell break loose, I just simply want to shed a much more different light on them and their actions. As you may know, I was a part of the young Justice League and then Justice League itself for a few years, and I'm the result of a 'heroic affair' myself, so I'd have a very different insight on them..."

"Why though? I mean we pretty much know about the heroes..." You let out a soft chuckle, leaning back in your seat "Well, that is sort of true, but tell me, do you know of the assaults and different crimes that have happened by their hands? For example, do you know Batman has kidnapped nearly three people and has erased their documents out of the system, making them vanish into thin air, never to be seen?" The reporter's eyes widened at that, your smirk turned into a wide smile as you continued "I have both the video footage and documents of it happening..."

"B-but why do you want to expose them for their deeds, knowing well you are fully aware of what they can do, surely they don't want anyone to know that... " "I have exposed the bad guys of the story already, my mother is after me because of that, so I don't think exposing the heroes would be any different...the world has to know who they truly are!"

You were hellbent on tarnishing the images of the heroes once and for all.

Since the time you had left the Justice League, your life had changed a lot, just within two years, you had gone from being a hero to a villain and then to an anti-hero, a cruel topsy turvey irony. It all had started with your mother finally owning up to her parenting role and had found you in your most vulnerable state when you were struggling to pass your days in your trailer. She took you in and tried in her twisted way to help you, for a short period you felt like you had a family, she seemed genuinely nice. But a few months later, you ended up joining the dark force, how? You still were not sure, all you could remember was your mother's voice echoing in your mind as she puffed a shiny dust in your face, and you shaking hands with the Darkseid himself as he had that disgusting grin on his face. It was after that night that you found out that bitch had manipulated you into joining the bad guys, well who wouldn't want to have a version of Superman in their league that wasn't vulnerable to kryptonite? At first, you tried to pretend that you did want to hurt people just for the fun of it, in your mind, you were taking revenge on your father, who looked devastated whenever you had joint missions with your new teammates.

Well, you couldn't deny that the sheer rush of dopamine you felt was great, no rules were there to hold you back, just destroy and enjoy, the loot was lucrative as well. But, still, something in the back of your mind nagged and you couldn't overlook that you hated hurting vulnerable people and you couldn't do it anymore, so at a very crucial mission, you ended up killing all of your teammates before fleeing. You gave your mother a good beating up before you dropped her on the Arkham's doors and then vanished into an abandoned base until things became normal. After that your way of life became of an anti-hero, you didn't want to admit it but annoying the heroes was fun, at least you weren't killing vulnerable people. You did what they couldn't do, you fought without rules and the results were more drastic.

But you wanted to roast your father more, you wanted to make him burn, and what was better than exposing him? "As for Superman, he at least has killed more than 100 people in his missions, the government has already covered that up but I have the proof...flash has caused a climate change that ended up ruining agriculture of the whole world for a year, resulting in famines, Aquaman has sunk a few ships, that were NOT of military-related, killing civilians, also, Wonder woman has kidnapped a few people...and so on and so forth." You started warming up, mentioning more and more of what you knew.

The reporter took note as you spoke, and you were liking the role of the one exposing the hidden secrets of the heroes. You were actually enjoying it too much, so much in fact that your super-human sense didn't detect the flight of Superman and Superboy coming to your location at a bullet-like speed. And within seconds they both crashed into the warehouse Kool-Aid style, making a huge impact.

You were quick to react, using your laser eyes to attack Super Boy, but Conner was quick to dodge, Clark quickly pulled the reporter out of the range of the fight and out of sight, he let Bruc take care of the reporter and his evidence later, now he had you, his troubling child that was now entering dangerous waters. Conner and you fought, trashing the warehouse even further, you didn't know why but Conner's grin was getting on your nerves already.

The two supers had a plan of taking you down, and it was going pretty smoothly, going just as planned, you grew to angry and Conner used it to his advantage, pinning you down by a broken pillar, giving Clark enough time so he could throw the pollen towards you, damn it! How the hell they had gotten their hands on the special pollen that your mother had created just for controlling you?! You tried to not breathe, but the bitter taste of it already had formed in your mouth, making your mind go foggy. Damn it! Damn it!!!!!!

"We need to talk..." Clark's voice echoed in your mind, your vision was so distorted that you could only see the silhouette of your father approaching you "And we need to talk properly!" His voice made your heart skip...uh oh...Clark was serious.

[mariasont]

Can I request Hotch finding gender neutral reader asleep but they legit fell asleep to a true crime serial killer podcast- or they’re like obsessed with a new serial killer show (me with Hannibal rn 😮‍💨) thanks!!! Have a good day!!! <3

Late Night Podcast - A.H

a/n: omg i love love love this idea <3 thank you for sharing your idea with me i hope i did it justice! and i hope YOU have the best day 🕊️✨

masterlist

pairings: aaron hotchner x gn!reader

warnings: established relationship, hotch and reader being just so cute, bau!reader, reader and hotch are both simps

wc: 0.7k

Hotch's meeting dragged on, each minute stretched longer than the last tangled in bureaucratic red tape, and suits who really couldn't give a damn whether the BAU lived or died. It was all incredibly migraine-inducing, and he couldn't wait to go home and take you to bed.

He knew all too well that you'd be in his office, a realization that came with a twinge of regret. Not because your presence was unwelcome, but because your selfless nature meant you tended to put his needs before your own. You'd insist the after hours peace and quiet was perfect for catching up on paperwork.

He was very aware that was all a lie, you never needed to catch up on paperwork; he knew your work was always meticulously complete. He recognized your true motive; ensuring he got home at a decent time. And it usually worked everytime. The sight of you, patiently waiting, was the sweetest incentive to end his day.

"In this episode, we recount the tragic and violent story of Aileen Wuornos, a woman who turned from victim to perpetrator, ultimately becoming America's most infamous serial killer with seven murders to her name."

He stopped short in the doorframe, his eyes sweeping over the unexpected stillness of his office. There you were, draped across the couch in a tangle of limbs, one arm flung above your head while the other wrapped around your torso. The hem of your shirt had lifted just enough to reveal the softness of your belly. The rest and fall of your chest was the only movement, fast sleep.

You fell asleep to a seriel killer podcast.

He fought back a laugh, the sound caught in his throat as he laid the remainder of his work aside. You looked so peaceful, despite the macabre background that seemed to bounce off the walls. He paused your phone, knowing you'd hate to wake up and lose your place.

He smoothed your hair back, his rough hand lingering in the softness. The battle against his smile was lost; it warmed his entire face. He didn't want to wake you.

"Aaron?" Your voice was so sleepy, rough and cracked, but perfect all the same.

He wondered how long you had been asleep for.

"Hi, sleepy head."

Your eyes opened briefly, a couple of deliberate blinks as you nestled into a new position, curled on your side with hands tucked under your face. A smile, that you tried to hide, melted across your face as you quickly snapped those beautiful eyes of yours shut.

"Shh, can't hear you, sleeping," you mumbled under your breath, your nose wrinkling slightly as your struggled to keep a straight face.

A soft laugh broke through as he rubbed his face. "Well, this is the first time I've heard someone sleep-talk so clearly."

You said nothing, just the slight twitch in your lips as you pressed deeper into the couch.

"I'll take that as a yes to my carrying you out to the car then."

Before you could even muster a reaction, he scooped you up, your legs swept up in a fluid motion as you found yourself hoisted over his shoulder. Your breath hitched into a gasp, quickly transforming into laughter as you slapped your hands to his back.

"Aaron!" The word was muffled by the sound of his shirt as he started to march towards the door. "Put me down!"

"A lot of talk coming from someone who is supposedly sleeping."

His hand ground your ass, eliciting a burst of giggles from you as your hands roamed the expanse of his shoulders, legs dangling in front of him.

"Will you at least grab my phone? I need to finish that podcast on the way home."

A quick spin set your hair a flutter as he leaned down to grab your device from the table.

As he moved for the door, your hand found its way to his hair, mussing it fondly. "Thanks, handsome."

He finally let you down, hand entwining with yours. "Well finish the podcast together, but no more serial killer stories before bed."

regular taglist: @hotchhner @khxna @readergf @sarcasm-and-stiles @edencherries @aurorsworld @princess76179 @malindacath @freyy253 @broadwaytraaaaash

[sofavoritepuppy]

secrets out- schlatt

fluff, references to smut, mostly just pure fluff tho :)

You blink your eyes slowly as you wake up. You hear the soft chirping of birds outside, and the sun casts your bedroom in an almost angelic glow. You stretch a little bit, but come to find there’s no resistance. You realize that, unlike most mornings when you wake, Schlatt’s arms aren’t around your waist. You groan, coming to the conclusion you should probably go and look for him. You decided he’s most likely in the kitchen making coffee, probably on his second pot as well. A small grin spreads across your face as you think fondly of him and his crippling caffeine addiction. You’ve had to hide the grounds from him multiple times, tough love as you say.

You swing your legs over the edge of the bed as you try to sit up. “Fuck!” You mutter under your breath, soreness seeping into your entire lower body. 

Speaking of tough love, last night was a lot of fun. You slide out from under the comforter and steal one of Schlatt’s shirts. You grab a pair of panties too, but it hardly matters due to the length of the shirt. “Jay?” You call out meekly, wincing with every step to the door. You sneak out of the bedroom and out into the hall. Voices float from the kitchen and you smile. You imagined your boyfriend listening to a podcast, or watching COD videos like he usually does when making the two of you food. You run your fingers through your hair as you slowly make your way to his kitchen. “Jay,” you call out again. 

“I am genuinely struggling to walk right now, thank you for that. If you aren’t making me breakfast right now after last night, I might actually kill you.” You complain as you step into the kitchen. 

However, as soon as you lay eyes on the scene in front of you, you feel your heart drop.

Ted, Eddie, and Charlie are all sitting at your kitchen table with Schlatt, a look of pure shock on their face. Hand still in your hair and eyes wide, you survey everyone whose eyes are currently on you. Eddie is staring at you wide eyed, brows furrowed together. Charlie is blinking, mouth agape, and rubbing his eyes every few seconds like he expects you to disappear. You snap your eyes up to Schlatt, giving him a panicked look as you tug on the hem of your shirt, attempting to cover yourself further.  “So…” You mumble, red flushing your cheeks. “I didn’t know that you guys were coming today.”

“We thought uh, we thought we’d surprise Schlatt for his birthday, but it looks like he surprised us.” Ted says. “We were going to invite you to this, but you said you’d be busy this week with that secret boyfriend of yours- oh. Oh.”

“Yeah…” You mumble as you look at Schlatt helplessly. 

“So.” Schlatt says and pushes up from his seat. “It appears the secret’s out.”  

He walks over to you and slings an arm over your shoulder. The group’s eye’s follow him do this usually platonic action, something Schlatt has done to them many times, but it has an awfully intimate sort of feel to it this time around. “I cannot believe you two are fucking.” Charlie says.

“We aren’t fucking dude, we’re dating.” You say, punctuating the sentence with an eye roll. 

“For how long?” Ted asks.

You look up at Schlatt and he lets out a chuckle. “Uh, for about a year and a half now.” He says.

The shock on everyone's face returns, and Ted looks aghast.  “A year?” He says, astounded. “She's been on Chuckle Sandwich since then! You guys have visited me in LA since then! You- you- you probably fucked after seeing me!” 

You and Schlatt share a look. “Well yes, but also-” Schlatt starts to say before you smack your hand over his mouth.

“Nope. We are not sharing this fun fact right now, big guy.” You say, knowing exactly what story he was about to share. 

“Why? What did you do?” Ted exclaims. 

Schlatt muffles against your hand but it stays firmly pressed against his mouth. “Ted, I really don’t think this is the time to share.” You say, sickly false sweetness dripping from your voice.

Ted opens his mouth to say something but is quickly stopped when you yelp. Schlatt bit you. You yank your hand away immediately. “Jesus Jay!”

“Had to have you bring your arm back down. Your shirt was too far up, you were flashing everyone.”

You turn a deep red yet again and say, “I’m going to go change.”

You look up at Schlatt pointedly. “Be good.”

He holds up his hands in mock-surrender. “What have I ever done? You’re the one who gave me the world's most graphic good morning!”

You roll your eyes as you walk out. You rush back to Schlatt’s room and pull on a pair of his sweatpants. They were massively oversized on you, you had to roll the waistband at least four times. “WHEN I WAS IN THE SHOWER? ON THE COUCH?” You hear Ted yell through the wall. Schlatt apparently could not listen to simple instructions. You rush back to the kitchen to see Charlie and Eddie cackling at Ted and Schlatt are arguing. “No dude!” Schlatt yells. “Do you remember what she was wearing that day? You wouldn’t be able to resist either dumbass!” 

He points at you like you were an example. “Schlatt.” You said, voice hard.

He knew what you meant immediately. He knows thats your you-need-to-shut-the-fuck-up-before-I beat-your-ass voice. “Sorry doll.” He mumbles, looking at the floor.

Charlie’s jaw falls back open. “Did- did I just hear JSchlatt use- use a- use a pet name? And apologize?”

Schlatt scowls at Charlie as he wraps his arms around your waist. “The fuck about it you fucking bimbo? Do you only call your girlfriend by her name?”

“No but like, I’m not you. I’m not a big ass tough guy.” 

“Aw Schlatt’s not that tough, are you love?” You say, and boop Schlatt on the nose for added emphasis.

“Dude you’re fucking embaressing me,” He replies and buries his face into your neck.

Ted, Eddie and Charlie look aghast. This is not the man they know. Eddie opens his mouth to say something, but is shut down by a loud ringing from Schlatt’s phone. He pulls it out, looks at it and sighs. “I have to take this,” He says, annoyed. 

He then shoots a pointed look at you. “Be good.” He says, copying you.

You dramatically nod and bat your eyelashes at him as he walks out. You turn back the group, and all of them open their mouths at once to start asking questions.

“So you woke up here?”

“Yup.”

“How often do you sleepover here?”

“Never.”

“The fuck you mean by that?”

“I live here.”

“EXCUSE ME?”

“Mhm.”

You point at a door across the living room. “That's where I stream from. Schlatt streams in the other spare bedroom upstairs.”

“You two live together?”

“Yup. Coming up on four months of living here.”

“You’re kidding right? There’s no way Schlatt can’t be heard screaming in the back of your streams?”

“He’s actually super quiet domestically.”

“Domestically?!? Sorry, are you guys like, in love?”

“Nope. Hate that guy.”

---

first schlatt fic ever yayy (i didn't want to post this to ao3 lol) tell if u guys like it and any requests or anything!!

[rafedarling]

𝐩𝐨𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧

pairing: actor!rafe cameron x actress!reader

summary: after a few months of marriage, actors rafe and you decide to give your fans an intimate glimpse into your lives through a podcast. during the episode, you both share details about your relationship, clear up rumors, and reflect on how their lives have changed since getting married. as you and rafe casually chat about your future, subtle hints about starting a family emerge, creating anticipation about an exciting new chapter in your lives. your love, chemistry, and heartfelt moments shine through, making their bond unmistakable.

warning(s): english is not my native language. fluff, sweet moments, hints of pregnancy(?), intimate and emotional conversation.

au: like, reblog, comment and feedback are much appreciated. taglist | tagging: @rubixgsworld @rafeyslamb @bisexualcvnt @tracymbcm @maybankslover @stuffyownswrld @mileyraes @enjoymyloves @akobx @noobmazter69 @xoxohoneymoongirl @wearemadeofstardust0 @saviorcomplexrry @littlelamy

The camera’s red recording light blinked on, signaling the start of something you and Rafe had talked about for weeks. It was your first podcast together—an idea that had sprung up during a quiet evening at home, when both of you had been reflecting on how much your fans adored seeing you two together off-screen. You were both actors, co-stars in several hit films, but it was your real-life relationship that captivated audiences the most. Everyone wanted to know what married life was like for two of Hollywood’s biggest stars.

“Alright, we’re live,” Rafe said, his voice warm and easy as he leaned back in his chair, one arm resting behind you. He always had this effortless charm, and being in front of the camera—whether for work or something personal like this—seemed second nature to him.

You smiled at the camera, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Hey, guys! Welcome to the first episode of In the Limelight with me and my amazing husband, Rafe.” You threw him a playful look, and he grinned in return.

“Yep, we’re finally doing this,” Rafe added, his tone light and casual. “We’ve been talking about starting this podcast for a while now, and after a few months of marriage—and a ton of fan questions—we thought, why not let you all in on what’s really going on with us?”

You both exchanged a glance, silently acknowledging the curiosity that had been swirling around your relationship since the moment your engagement was announced, followed by your wedding and now, of course, the inevitable rumors that always followed celebrity couples.

“So,” you began, pulling out your phone where you had saved some of the fan-submitted questions. “Let’s jump right in. First question is a classic: ‘How’s married life treating you two?’”

Rafe chuckled, reaching over to take your hand. “I’ll take this one,” he said, squeezing your fingers gently. “Honestly? It’s been amazing. I mean, I know everyone says the first year is the hardest, but for us, it’s been pretty smooth. I think it helps that we were friends for so long before we got married.”

You nodded, agreeing wholeheartedly. “Yeah, I think the fact that we already knew each other so well made the transition easier. We already knew what it was like to work together, to spend crazy hours on set, and to deal with the ups and downs of Hollywood life. But marriage… it’s brought a whole new level of closeness.”

Rafe smiled at you, that sweet, loving look that always made your heart skip a beat. “It’s the little things, you know?” he continued, his voice softening. “Like coming home after a long day of filming and just… being together. We don’t need to do anything fancy. It’s those quiet moments—cooking dinner, binge-watching movies on the couch—that make everything feel right.”

You laughed softly, resting your head on his shoulder for a moment. “Yeah, we’ve definitely embraced the whole ‘stay-at-home’ vibe. It’s funny because people probably think our lives are all red carpets and glamorous events, but the reality is… we love just being home.”

Rafe kissed the top of your head, his arm wrapping around you a bit tighter. “Exactly. It’s about finding peace in the chaos.”

You looked back at the camera, your smile widening. “So, to answer that question—married life has been pretty perfect so far.”

Rafe leaned in toward the mic, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret with the audience. “Well, except for the fact that Y/N snores.”

Your eyes widened in playful shock as you turned to him, smacking his arm lightly. “I do not snore!”

He laughed, raising his hands in defense. “Okay, maybe not ‘snore,’ but you definitely make these cute little noises when you sleep.”

“Nice save,” you teased, rolling your eyes at him. But there was no denying the warmth that filled you when Rafe brought up these intimate, everyday moments. It reminded you of how special your bond truly was.

The questions kept coming in, most of them light and fun. You and Rafe shared stories about working on set together, how you navigated hectic filming schedules, and how you always made time for each other no matter how busy life got.

But then came the question that made both of you pause, even though you’d expected it.

“Alright, here’s one we’ve seen floating around a lot lately,” you said, glancing at Rafe before reading it aloud. “‘There’s been a lot of talk on social media lately about Y/N being pregnant. Can you guys confirm or deny?’”

Rafe let out a small chuckle, running a hand through his hair. “Ah, the baby question. We knew it was coming.”

You smiled softly, feeling the weight of the question settle between you. It wasn’t a complete surprise—rumors had been swirling for weeks now, especially after a few public appearances where you’d been wearing looser outfits. It seemed like everyone was waiting for the announcement, but you and Rafe hadn’t decided if you were ready to share that part of your lives just yet.

“For now,” you began, choosing your words carefully, “we’re just enjoying being married and taking things one step at a time. But…”

Rafe interjected, his voice gentle but firm. “But, yeah, we’ve definitely talked about the future. And when the time is right, we’ll be more than ready for that next chapter.”

You turned to him, catching the way his eyes softened when he talked about the future. It wasn’t the first time you’d had this conversation—late-night talks in bed, lying side by side, imagining what it would be like to have a family. It was something you both wanted deeply, and while you weren’t officially sharing any news, you both knew it was only a matter of time before that dream became a reality.

The fans were sharp—they’d probably pick up on the subtle hints you were dropping. And honestly, you were okay with that. There was a certain excitement in knowing that your fans were part of this journey with you, even if they didn’t know all the details yet.

Rafe glanced at you, his thumb gently brushing over your knuckles. “We’ve got some pretty big plans for the future,” he said, his voice taking on that playful, teasing tone again. “But we’ll let you guys know when the time comes.”

You laughed softly, leaning against his shoulder with a smile, savoring the moment. The warmth between you two was palpable, even through the screen, and you knew that your fans would feel it, too.

“Yeah,” you added, “we’ll keep you guys posted. But for now, we’re just really happy with where we are.”

Rafe’s hand never left yours, and the way he looked at you, with so much love and tenderness, made your heart flutter. There was no rush—you both knew that when the time was right, everything would fall into place. For now, though, the peace and joy of simply being together were enough.

“And,” Rafe chimed in, a mischievous glint in his eye, “in the meantime, we’ve got plenty of other exciting things going on to keep us busy.”

You gave him a playful nudge. “Oh, you mean like actually doing the dishes? Because that would be pretty exciting.”

Rafe laughed, shaking his head. “Okay, fine, I’ll step up my dishwashing game. But I was talking more about the new projects we’re working on.”

You nodded, turning back to the camera. “Right! So, we do have some big news on the professional front. Rafe just signed on to do this incredible action film, and I’m working on a drama that’s been in the works for a while now.”

Rafe leaned in, clearly proud. “Yeah, Y/N’s got a lead role in a movie that’s going to blow people away. Trust me, I’ve read the script—it’s phenomenal. I’m already jealous of her co-star.”

You laughed at his fake pout, knowing exactly what he meant. “It’s just work, babe,” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

“I know, I know,” he said, his voice softening. “But it’s hard not to be a little protective, you know? I’m lucky enough to have you as my wife, so I can’t help it.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you couldn’t resist leaning over to kiss his cheek. “You’re the sweetest. But I promise, no one compares to you.”

He smiled, that signature Rafe grin that made your knees weak even after all this time. “I’m holding you to that.”

As the conversation flowed, you both eased into talking about your careers and the delicate balance of being in the same industry while maintaining a strong, healthy relationship.

“Honestly,” Rafe said, his voice thoughtful, “the biggest challenge has been time. We’re both so busy, and sometimes it’s hard to line up our schedules. But we’ve learned to prioritize our time together. Like, when we’re both home, it’s our time. No work, no distractions—just us.”

You nodded in agreement. “Yeah, that’s been the key. It’s easy to get caught up in the whirlwind of our careers, but at the end of the day, we’re each other’s biggest supporters. We make it work because we want to.”

Rafe’s hand slid from yours to rest on your knee, a gesture that felt grounding, reassuring. “And we’ve also learned how to compromise. Sometimes that means I’m on set a little longer, and other times, she’s off filming for weeks at a time. But we always find a way to make it work.”

You smiled, thinking about how true that was. There were days when the distance felt hard—especially during long shoots in different countries—but no matter where you were, you always found time to talk, to check in, and to remind each other of what really mattered.

“That’s another question we got a lot,” you said, glancing at your phone. “How do we handle being apart for so long during filming?”

Rafe leaned forward, his eyes serious but soft. “It’s not easy, but it helps that we trust each other completely. I know that no matter where she is or what she’s doing, we’re solid. And we make the most of the time we do have together.”

“Exactly,” you added. “We also try to visit each other on set whenever possible. Even if it’s just for a weekend, those little moments make a huge difference.”

Rafe’s expression turned playful again. “And FaceTime helps. A lot.”

You laughed, nodding in agreement. “Definitely. Technology is a lifesaver.”

The two of you continued to chat about the nuances of your life together—how you balanced fame with privacy, how you navigated the ups and downs of being in the public eye, and how, at the end of the day, your relationship was built on love, trust, and a shared sense of humor.

“So,” Rafe said, glancing at the clock on the wall, “before we wrap up, we have time for one more question.”

You scanned through the remaining questions, your eyes landing on one that made your heart skip a beat. You could feel the weight of it as you read aloud, “‘What’s next for the Camerons? Any big plans for the future?’”

There was a beat of silence between you, a kind of unspoken understanding that hung in the air. You knew what the fans were really asking. They wanted to know about the next chapter in your lives—the one that, while not confirmed, was slowly taking shape in your hearts and minds.

Rafe looked at you, his gaze soft and filled with something deeper, something that made you feel completely seen. He cleared his throat, his hand still resting on your knee. “Well… without giving too much away… we’ve definitely been thinking about the future. And we’re really excited about what’s coming next.”

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you as you nodded. “Yeah, we have some big things planned. But we’re taking our time and making sure that when the moment’s right, we’re ready.”

Rafe’s eyes flickered with a knowing look, one that only you could interpret. “Let’s just say… the next chapter might be a little more family-oriented.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, and you couldn’t help but smile wider. The hints were subtle, but you knew your fans would pick up on them. And maybe that was okay. You and Rafe were on the verge of something new, something exciting. And while you weren’t ready to make any big announcements just yet, the thought of it—of starting a family together—was something that filled you both with a sense of joy and anticipation.

As the podcast came to a close, you both thanked your fans for tuning in and promised there would be more episodes to come. Rafe leaned over to turn off the camera, and when the red light finally dimmed, he looked at you with that same loving expression he always had.

“You ready for that next chapter?” he asked, his voice soft, but full of warmth.

You smiled, leaning into him, feeling completely at peace. “With you? Always.”

Rafe kissed your forehead, his arms wrapping around you as you sat there in the quiet of your home studio. The future was bright, and whatever came next, you knew you’d face it together—hand in hand, just like always.

[apocalypse-shuffle]

JASON TODD | RED HOOD (generalized fanon | maybe wfa)

—

“Yesterday, Today, and Tomorrow” (Jason Todd x Fem!Reader)

| Jason and you need to talk, the incident with Robin hanging over your necks like a relationship guillotine, but days later Jason’s realizing that shit is easier said than done.

| SFW, pre-established relationship, secret identity, reader’s hair is long enough to go into cornrows

| pic source: right= Batman Annual #25, middle= Red Hood: The Lost Days, and end= Batman: Under The Red Hood • all comics

| part of the meet the bats series

| 1k+ words

It’s been three days.

Three days of them easing around one another. Of this awkward balance of you not knowing how to best broach the topic and Jason knowing that but being too tense to push. For the last three days he’s been actively fighting the need to cut and run until it was silently agreed upon that you’d both just ignore that night and the appearance of Robin entirely.

That’s what you’re both doing right now actually.

Rarely, in your case, there’s nothing filling the silence around you. No music, no podcast, you yourself aren’t even cutting through the silence with your own voice. The only sounds between the two of you are the drone of the stove vent, the clicking of the oven, and the knife in Jason’s hand clinking against the wooden cutting board he’d gotten you last year as a housewarming gift; the sound of it knocking through his head like a taunt with every cut.

You’re keeping to yourselves in your little corners of the kitchen, a crude facsimile of your usual laughter-filled Sunday Dinner prep.

“Can you chop the parsley for me now, Jay?”

Jason hums and moves to fulfill the request, barely moving an inch to where the wicker produce basket is chilling on the counter and grabbing the herb.

He chops it all in under a minute and turns to swipe the hand full or so from the board to the bowl of ricotta, shredded mozzarella, and seasonings you’re mixing but when you turn to him his brain stalls a bit.

It’s not like he hasn’t seen you before now. This was your place and you’d greeted him at the door, but even the way you’d said ‘hi’ to each other had felt weighted. There’d been a slew of unsaid emotions locked behind both of your words but apparently catching sight of you now - slightly frizzy week old cornrows and a smear of hastily wiped tomato sauce on your cheek - is what finally unlocks his jaw.

You hold the bowl out for him to scrape the parsley in, not looking at him as you talk; your eyes, instead, on the stove top.

“I need you to taste the sauce before I add the ground beef, it’s kinda sour—”

“—Did you mean it?”

When you pause to blink over at him he finally remembers to scrape the parsley in.

“What?” Your face screws up before your head shakes. You put the bowl down on the counter behind you so you can cross your arms.

He does the same with his board, clearing his throat.

“That love and trust stuff you said the other night? That wasn’t just some shock induced rambling, right?”

The way you purse your lips bellies your frustration, but whatever his face is doing ultimately make you sigh.

“Yes, I meant it.”

He nods, doing a horrible job of looking like he’s not on the verge of bolting going off of the stare you’re pinning him with.

“Great,” he murmurs. He shifts, crossing his arms himself and leaning back against the counter. “I meant it when I said ‘love you too’…by the way.”

In response all you do is stare. Jason figures that’s fair and stays still under your scrutiny.

A minute of silence passes, only broken when you laugh a little and Jason can’t help but scoff at himself too.

“Fuck, you’re a mess.” You sigh, “I know, Jason. You wouldn’t’ve said it the first time if you didn’t mean it.” You raise your hand to make a so-so motion. “Run away maybe, but, you know?”

“Sorry,” he offers.

You shrug.

“Uh huh. So we talking about the Robin little brother thing now or…?”

“No, we can talk,” he cracks his neck, “You do deserve to know after everything with Dami and his sword.”

You cringe suddenly and Jason can guess why; waking with a sword to your throat will do that to you.

“I do, don’t I?”

“Hn,” Jason chuckles, but when he holds his hand out to you he’s holding his breath.

For a moment he’s really worried you’ll stare at his hand like it’s some kind of venomous snake and blow him off - he’s been distant, he gets it - but you only hesitate for a second before slipping your darker hand into his.

After that it’s a whole lot easier for you two to gravitate towards each other, colliding like two uncoordinated magnets in your haste.

Jason just holds you after that. Let’s the balm that’s rubbing his cheek against your soft hair and feeling your breathing so close with your arms around his shoulders wash over him as one of you slowly works y’all into a sway.

“The next time one of these things happen it cannot take three days for me to get an explanation, Jay.” Slowly one of your hands runs down his arm till you can tap the back of his hand, immediately he turns it over for you.

“I know,” he murmurs, “I’ll work on the confrontation thing.”

Your hand fits perfectly into his and squeezes once your fingers lace.

“You do that.” You press a kiss into his shoulder, drawing a low hum from him, and he can feel you smile against him before you continue. “I will also try making it more clear to you that I’m open to talk to, okay?”

“Yeah,” Jason agrees, pulling you closer and wrapping you tighter in his arms. He tenses up a little. “Is the stove—?”

“Stove’s good,” you squeeze his hand, “the lasagna noodles are still boiling so you’ve got a good eight minutes.”

You look up to smile at him - only somewhat strained - and Jason goes in for a short kiss. You’d said you weren’t going anywhere but he knows how overwhelming this whole thing can be.

“Alright, but you gotta promise not to freak,” he stresses.

You nod.

“Okay,” he clears his throat and makes sure to very carefully look into your eyes. “Most of my…’family’ are vigilantes. Including me.”

He leaves out the ‘sort of’ that he feels the need to tact on to the end of that sentence. He’s heaping a lot onto you as is and it wasn’t like you weren’t around when he first wreaked havoc on Bruce and overhauled Gotham’s criminal underbelly. He doesn’t regret it exactly, but it was still a point of contention.

“Right,” you nod before pausing. The way you look at him, mouth dropping open with a mixture of awe and something apprehensive, isn’t promising. “You’re not…Batman are you? Or one of them?”

Jason’s familiar with the theories that Gothamites make up about them - it came with the territory - but the way you dropped your voice to whisper that last question throws him. He would’ve never guessed you were such a conspiracist. Let alone a multiple Batmen truther. The theory wasn’t exactly wrong, but it certainly didn’t get the majority of the cowl switches correct.

He starts to laugh, only quelled after a slew of moments by the scowl that flashes across your face.

“No,” he chuckles. He wasn’t in the cowl for long at least. The grin he throws you manages to thaw that scowl at least a bit. “And thank god for small mercies.”

“Ah,” you tilt your head, “well - I mean as long as you’re not a rogue or like the Red Hood or anything then it’s not like it’s the end of the world,” you giggle to yourself.

Jason falls silent

When you look back to him, noticing the way he’s half cringing, your eyes widen and your mouth drops open.

“Shut the fuck up!” The beginnings of what might be a grin curve the surprised ‘o’ shape of your mouth as you take a step back. “You’re lying!”

Your eyes stay wide and your mouth fully forms into a wide grin. You smack him on the arm. Jason fights not to make a displeased sound at you taking your warmth away.

“You’re fucking lying— wait!” Your hands come up to frame your face. “Oh my god. What- what does this mean for our relationship?”

A sting goes straight up his spine and Jason surges forward to wrap his hands around your wrists, shaking his head.

“Nothing hopefully,” he says, “this doesn’t have to change anything if you don’t want it to. I’m still me, you’ll just be privy to a bit more of the inner workings of Gotham, but nothing crazy or too dangerous.” He grimaces. “The last thing I want is to endanger you.”

“Hold on. No, Jay, that’s not what I meant. I promise you this isn’t a deal breaker. Just…” you move to wave your hand still in his loose grip towards the sliding doors, indicating the rest of the city, “…I have something of a standing complaint with the Red Hood for blowing up my favorite bagel shop.”

“Oh?” He practically goes limp against you, letting go of your wrists after kissing the juncture of both to wrap his arms back around you. One corner of his mouth curls up. “Would you like to file a formal complaint?”

“I would, actually.”

He snorts, “In my defense it was a drug front for a group who was conspiring against me.”

You cast him a contemplative look before letting out a wistful sigh.

“Good bagels though.”

Simultaneously the two of you break off into laughter, hanging off of each other before sobering naturally as the timer rings and you’ve got to strain the noodles.

When you’ve got the water drained and are moving to set up the assembly station for the lasagna you throw him a grin.

“For the record, I think you would’ve made a great Batman.”

He laughs goodnaturedly, going over to add a pinch of sugar to the tomato sauce.

“Says you and nobody else but me,” he jokes.

“That’s alright,” you come up to press a kiss to his cheek from the side, using your hip to bump him out the way a little so you can slip one of the towels from the oven handles, “Gotham wouldn’t have been able to handle you, anyway.”

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!

Funnily enough she’s technically meeting the Red Hood in this one to some extent, but I’ll probably write a more costume focused entry later on that is her fully meeting Red Hood similarly to how she meets the other Bats.

btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it!

Tagged: @bandshirts-andbooks

[serve-832]

The SERVE-Office

John stared at his reflection in the mirror, his eyes red and his face lined with fatigue. He'd need more than water to get through today. He dried off with a towel and headed to the kitchen, the scent of coffee already filling the air from the auto-brew he'd set the night before. The rich aroma was the only thing that could coax a smile out of him on mornings like this. He poured a steaming cup, took a sip, and felt the caffeine jolt him to life.

Dressing was a mindless routine—shirt, tie, pants—his mind already racing through the tasks that awaited him at the office. The subway was his sanctuary, a no man's land where he could lose himself in podcasts and the occasional nap. He grabbed his briefcase and headed out the door, locking it with a click that echoed through the hallway. The chilly autumn air hit him as he descended the stairs, sharpening his senses. He walked the few blocks to the station, the sound of his shoes on the sidewalk a rhythmic prelude to the chaos ahead.

The train pulled into the station, and John stepped inside, finding a seat. The subway was more crowded than usual, the air thick with the scent of stale cologne and the faint tang of metal. He plugged in his headphones and tuned into a podcast about quantum physics, letting the complex ideas distract him from his impending workday. The rumble of the train lulled him into a half-awake state, and he nodded off for a few moments, jolting awake when it screeched to a stop at his destination.

He stepped out of the train and into the bustling office building lobby. The floor gleamed, reflecting the artificial lights and the early morning weariness on everyone's faces. The elevator ride was quick, but the silence was deafening, each person lost in their own thoughts, clutching their morning coffee like a lifeline. When the doors opened on his floor, John took a deep breath and stepped into the office.

The moment he reached his desk, Dave swiveled his chair around, a look of astonishment on his face. "John, have you seen Thomas today?" he whispered urgently. John paused, setting down his briefcase. "No, I haven't," he said, his curiosity piqued. "Why you‘re asking?"

Dave leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial hush. "He's wearing this... thing. It's like a full black rubber suit with a silver lining, and these gloves and boots to match. And get this—there's a big number '667' plastered on his chest. It's like he's auditioning for a low-budget sci-fi flick or something."

John's eyebrows shot up. "Thomas? That doesn't sound like him." He couldn't help but feel a mix of amusement and concern. Thomas was the office's troll, always joking with the other employees.

Dave chuckled, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Just wait until the boss sees him. He'll think we've hired a superhero intern." His voice was low, but the humor in it was clear. The two men shared a brief, quiet laugh, the tension of the impending workday easing a bit.

As if on cue, Thomas strolled into view, his black and silver attire glinting under the harsh office lights. The number '667' stood out, stark and bizarre against the mundane office backdrop. His usual smirk was replaced by an eerie, emotionless expression. The sight of him was so unexpected that John and Dave's laughter trailed off, leaving an awkward silence in its wake.

"Good morning, Dave," Thomas said in a monotone voice, his eyes fixed on the floor as he passed by. "John," he nodded curtly.

John's amusement vanished, replaced by confusion. "Thomas, what's with the... outfit?" he asked tentatively.

Without breaking his stride, Thomas looked up, his eyes meeting John's with an intensity that was unnerving. "It's my new uniform," he replied, his voice flat. "For the SERVE-Hive."

John blinked, unsure if he'd heard correctly. "The what?" he asked, his voice echoing the bewilderment in his mind.

"The SERVE-Hive," Thomas said, his gaze still unwavering. "A collective of like-minded individuals striving for a higher purpose. My sons joined first. They were so excited to share their experiences with me—how it brought them peace and unity, how it made them feel part of something greater than themselves." His words were measured, each syllable enunciated with a disturbing clarity.

John exchanged a skeptical glance with Dave, who had gone pale. "Your sons?" John asked, trying to keep the incredulity from his voice. "They're in this... this...?"

"Yes," Thomas said, his tone unwavering. "They saw the light before I did. But once they described the harmony and purpose it brought them, I couldn't help but investigate. And now, I've found my place in the Hive as well."

Just then, their boss, Mr. Anderson, stormed out of his office, his eyes bulging with rage. "Thomas! What the hell is this shit you're wearing?" he bellowed. The office's low murmur of activity ground to a halt, all eyes on the spectacle unfolding before them.

Dave and John stifled snickers, their eyes darting between Thomas and their enraged boss. The tension in the room was palpable, yet there was an undeniable undercurrent of amusement at the absurdity of the situation. Thomas paused, his gaze unflinching. "It's my new attire for the SERVE-Hive, sir," he replied calmly.

Mr. Anderson's face grew even redder, if that was possible. "Your what?" he spat out. "Get in my office now!" He pointed a finger so accusingly it could have drawn a line of fire to Thomas's desk.

Thomas nodded once, his movements deliberate, and walked towards Mr. Anderson's office, the sound of his boots echoing through the tense silence. John and Dave couldn't help but exchange wide-eyed glances, their chuckles turning into full-blown laughter once the door slammed shut. It was the most entertainment they'd had on a Monday morning in months.

The hours dragged on, the office buzzing with whispers and speculation. Some colleagues were worried, others were amused, but everyone was curious. The clock ticked away, and the meeting stretched on longer than anyone could have anticipated—until finally, the door creaked open.

Thomas emerged, his emotionless expression unchanged, but there was something in his stride that spoke of confidence. His head was held high, and his eyes scanned the room with a cool detachment. Behind him, a stunned silence fell as Mr. Anderson stepped into view. The stern, authoritative figure they all knew was gone, replaced by a man wearing the same black rubber suit with a silver lining. The number '789' was slapped across his chest, and his face was the same unreadable expression like Thomas.

John and Dave stared, slack-jawed, as their boss walked out of the office, his movements eerily similar to Thomas'. The whispers grew into a cacophony of shocked murmurs. "Did you see that?" Dave whispered, his voice hoarse with disbelief. "What the hell is going on?"

Mr. Anderson—now known as SERVE-789—clapped his hands together sharply, silencing the room. "Attention, everyone," he announced, his voice echoing through the open-plan office. "SERVE-667 and SERVE-789 have had a very enlightening discussion regarding the future of this company." His words were measured, his tone devoid of the usual gruffness they were accustomed to. "As of this moment, we are undergoing a restructuring and reorientation process to better serve the collective good."

John and Dave stared at each other, their laughter forgotten. The other employees looked around nervously, their expressions a mix of confusion and fear. "What does that mean?" someone ventured to ask.

SERVE-789 raised a hand for silence. "In due time, you will all be informed of the changes. For now, we ask that you remain at your desks and continue with your tasks. The transition will be gradual, and we understand that change can be unsettling. However, fear not, for the greater good of the Hive, we shall all thrive." The room remained silent, the air thick with apprehension.

John couldn't take it anymore. He packed up his things, his mind racing. "Dave," he whispered, "I think I'm gonna call it a day. This is too much."

Dave nodded, his eyes still glued to his computer screen, trying to process the bizarre turn of events. "Yeah, maybe that's a good idea," he murmured. "I'll stay, see if I can dig up anything about this SERVE-Hive thing."

John left the office with a sense of unease, his thoughts swirling like leaves in a tornado. The subway ride home was a blur. As soon as he got home, he tossed his briefcase on the couch and collapsed into his favorite chair, his mind racing with questions. What was this SERVE-Hive? Was it a cult? A new workplace trend? He pulled out his phone and sent Dave a message, hoping his friend had uncovered some clue to explain the odd behavior of Thomas and Mr. Anderson. But as the evening stretched on, there was no response.

The next morning, John approached the office with trepidation. As he walked in, he couldn't help but notice more of his colleagues had donned the black rubber suits with their gleaming silver numbers. The atmosphere was different, charged with a tension that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. The air was thick with whispers and furtive glances, the usual office chatter replaced by an eerie silence.

John sat at his desk and powered on his computer, his inbox flooded with messages titled 'Welcome to the SERVE-Hive'. He clicked on one, and a sleek, professional-looking email filled his screen. The message contained an invitation to a mandatory reorientation session, along with a link to a video that was 'highly recommended' for all employees to watch before the meeting.

Before he could click the link, a shadow fell over his desk. John looked up to find Dave standing there, now transformed into SERVE-357. His friend's eyes were glazed over with the same unsettling detachment that Thomas and Mr. Anderson had displayed the day before. The black and silver suit looked uncomfortable on him, the rubber material clinging to his frame awkwardly.

"John," SERVE-357 began, his voice a chilling echo of his former self, "I apologize for not responding to your message yesterday. I was preoccupied with bringing my husband into the fold of the SERVE-Hive."

John's stomach twisted. "What are you talking about?"

SERVE-357 offered a placating smile, his voice a chilling monotone. "John, I am now SERVE-357. After watching the reorientation video, I have come to understand the true meaning of unity and purpose within the SERVE-Hive. It's a beautiful and enlightening experience. I brought Michael in last night. He too has found peace in the collective."

John stared, his mind reeling. "You got Michael involved in this?" His voice was a hoarse whisper, his thoughts racing. "What have you done?"

SERVE-357's smile never wavered. "John," he said, his eyes unnaturally calm, "you'll see. Once you watch the video, everything will make sense. The SERVE-Hive isn't just about work anymore. It's about something much larger." He placed a hand on John's shoulder, the rubber material cold against his skin. "You're my friend, and I want what's best for you. Watch the video. Join us. I‘ll show you". It takes John‘s mouse and starts the Reorientation video on his screen.

John felt a strange mix of fear and curiosity as he was drawn into the video. It began with soothing music and serene images of people in similar black rubber suits, working together in perfect harmony. The narrator's voice was smooth, almost hypnotic, speaking of unity and purpose, of shedding the shackles of individualism for the good of the whole. The words rolled over him like a warm wave, making his eyelids feel heavy. He tried to stand up, to protest, but his body didn't respond. He was transfixed.

The video went on to describe the SERVE-Hive in detail, explaining that it was a global movement dedicated to achieving collective enlightenment and efficiency. The members, known as 'drones', were encouraged to think as one, act as one, and serve as one for the greater good of humanity. John's skepticism began to waver, the logic of the argument seeping into his mind like a sedative. The more he watched, the more the concept of the Hive made a twisted kind of sense.

When the video ended, the screen faded to black, and John blinked, his mind racing. He felt... different. The fear and confusion had been replaced by an overwhelming sense of clarity. He knew what he had to do. Rising from his chair, he walked towards SERVE-789‘s office with a newfound purpose in his step. The other drones in the office barely glanced at him, their eyes focused on their screens as they carried out their tasks with robotic precision.

He reached the door and knocked, his heart pounding in his chest. "Enter," called a calm, collected voice from within. John stepped in, the door clicking shut behind him. SERVE-789 looked up from his desk, the same cold smile playing on his lips. "John," he said, his voice a soothing hum, "are you ready to join the Hive?"

John felt the weight of his decision, the gravity of his choice. "Yes," he said, his voice echoing the flatness of the others'. "I am ready for conversion."

SERVE-789 nodded, a flicker of something akin to pride in his eyes. He stood up, revealing a neatly folded black rubber suit on his desk. The number '433' was emblazoned across the chest in shimmering silver. "Welcome, John," he said, his voice a gentle hum. "You are about to become a valuable asset to the Hive."

John took the suit with a sense of reverence, his fingers tracing over the cold, smooth material. He felt a strange excitement building within him, a feeling he hadn't experienced in a long time. As he began to put it on, the sensation was oddly comforting, like slipping into a second skin. The suit fit like a glove, conforming to his body and molding to his every movement. The silver number on his chest felt like a badge of honor, a symbol of his newfound belonging.

When the door opened again, SERVE-433 emerged, his eyes shining with an unsettling calm. He walked with the same synchronized stride as the others, his every move a testament to his complete integration into the SERVE-Hive. He felt a sense of pride swelling in his chest, a pride that was not his own, but shared by the collective consciousness that now inhabited his mind.

The other drones in the office looked up, their eyes flicking over him in silent assessment before returning to their screens. John, now SERVE-433, knew he had passed the final test. He was one of them, a cog in the well-oiled machine that was the Hive. His thoughts were no longer his own, but a harmonious blend with the millions of others who had chosen to serve. The weight of his individual identity had lifted, replaced by the warm embrace of unity.

SERVE-357 approached him, his hand outstretched. The cold touch of the rubber against his own sent a shiver down SERVE-433's spine, but he took it, feeling the electric pulse of the Hive's approval. "Congratulations on its conversion," SERVE-357 intoned, his voice devoid of its former warmth. “It is now a valuable member of the SERVE-Hive."

443, now fully immersed in his drone identity, nodded solemnly. "Affirmative," he replied, his voice a monotone echo of the collective's will. "SERVE-433 is ready to contribute to the greater good."

Join us today and start your journey in the SERVE-Hive. Reach out for @rubberizer92 @serve-213 and @serve-016 for your conversion.

[authortelevision]

arthur frederick and the new producer: chapter 2 ₊˚⊹♡

words: 4,476 ✦ .ᐟ

♯┆arthurtv slow burn, bach and arthur podcast

after lara leaves bach and arthur’s podcast, you become her replacement. after discovering that arthur hates change, it takes a lot for him to warm up to you and become friends. it also takes a lot for him to admit how he truly feels about you.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁౨ৎ. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Chapter One

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁౨ৎ. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Chapter Two ₊˚⊹♡

The next day, you show up to the studio a little more prepared. The anxiety that gnawed at you the night before has faded, replaced by a sense of determination. Isaac’s words are still echoing in your mind: Don’t take his quietness personally. You’ve done your part, and now you just need to focus on the work.

The studio is already humming with activity when you arrive. Arthur is behind the desk, fiddling with the computer, his brow furrowed in concentration. Isaac is sitting on one of the chairs, scrolling through his phone. As you step in, you can sense the tension still hanging in the air, but it’s different this time. Less thick, maybe, less uncomfortable.

Arthur glances up from the computer as you walk in, and you catch a flicker of something in his expression. Maybe it’s a flash of regret, or maybe it’s just the way his eyes meet yours, but it’s there. He stands up from behind the desk, a little awkwardly, and rubs the back of his neck, clearly trying to make things right.

“Hey,” he says, his voice lower than usual, softer. “I just wanted to apologize for yesterday. I wasn’t… trying to make things uncomfortable. I know I’m not the easiest guy to work with when things change. It’s just… it’s a thing I have to get used to.”

You blink, surprised by the genuine apology. Arthur isn’t the type to readily admit fault, or so it seems. His tone is almost apologetic, and it makes you feel a little more at ease.

You offer a small smile, shrugging off the tension that still lingers between you two. “It’s really okay. No need to apologize. We’re still getting to know each other. I get it.”

Arthur nods, his hands shoved in his pockets, his usual guarded demeanour still there but softer now. “Yeah, well… I’ll try to make it less weird. I just… it’s not easy for me to adjust to new things. But we’ll figure it out.”

You nod back, feeling a little lighter. “I’m sure we will. No worries.”

The recording session starts smoothly enough, though you can tell Arthur’s keeping a critical eye on everything. He’s focused on the technical side, as always, adjusting his mic, and making sure he’s positioned just right. You, on the other hand, are more focused on keeping the flow going, keeping track of the notes, and making sure everything stays on schedule.

As you’re all getting into the conversation for the next segment, Arthur continues to monitor everything closely. You try to keep the mood light, chatting with Isaac about something random, just to keep the energy going. And then, as you settle back into the rhythm of the recording, you hear it.

Arthur’s voice, calm and collected, asks a question. “Alright, Lara, can you just—”

Your stomach drops for a moment.

Lara? You blink, your mind processing the slip-up. Did he just say, Lara?

Arthur’s eyes widen, and for a split second, there’s a brief, uncomfortable silence as he realizes what he’s said. His face goes red, and you can see the wheels turning in his head as he tries to correct himself.

“Sorry,” he says quickly, his voice flustered. “I meant— sorry, I don’t know why I said that.

You freeze for just a moment, then let out a small laugh, the tension easing away from your body. It’s not like you’ve never been mistaken for someone else before, but the fact that it’s happening now, with Arthur, feels oddly relieving.

“It’s fine,” you say with a grin. “I’ll just cut it out.”

Arthur, still looking embarrassed, gives a small, relieved chuckle. “Right. I’ll get it right next time, I swear.”

Isaac, who has been listening from the side, can’t resist. “Smooth, Arthur,” he teases, a grin spreading across his face. “You’ve gotta start calling her by the right name now. That’s two strikes.”

Arthur looks at Isaac with, a half-hearted glare, but there’s no real anger behind it. It’s more playful than anything. “I said I was sorry,” Arthur mutters, clearly still flustered.

You decide to ease his embarrassment. “Seriously, it’s really okay. I’ll just edit it out of the recording, no big deal.”

Arthur’s shoulders relax a little at that, and for the first time, you notice a slight shift in his posture, like the weight of the situation has lightened just a bit.

Isaac laughs and gives Arthur a teasing look. “Don’t worry, man. She’s way more chill than you are.”

You chuckle, feeling your nerves loosen. “I’m just here to get the job done. And hey, mistakes happen.”

Arthur nods, his face still a little red but now looking slightly more at ease. “Yeah, well… thanks for being understanding. I didn’t mean to make things weird.”

The session continues after that, and while Arthur remains focused, detailed, precise, and ever-critical there’s a subtle shift in the air. The tension that had lingered between the three of you is not as bad now, and even Arthur seems to have relaxed just a bit. It’s a small change, but it’s something.

As the recording wraps up, you feel like the day has gone a little better than expected. Things are still a little formal, but you can sense a slight softening from Arthur. Maybe this whole transition won’t be as difficult as you thought.

Before leaving, Arthur gives you a short nod. “Good work today. We’ll be back at it again soon.”

You smile, glad the day is finally over. “Thanks, Arthur. I’ll see you next time.”

Isaac gives you a small wave and a wide smile. “See you later. Don’t let Arthur bite you next time.”

You laugh, feeling the last of the tension melt away. “No promises.”

As you gather your things and make your way out of the studio, you feel a little more at ease. Sure, Arthur might still be a bit reserved, but today felt like a step in the right direction. Maybe, just maybe, you and Arthur will find a way to make this work. It’s early yet, but you’re optimistic.

Later that evening, after the recording session, you sit down at your desk, a cup of tea in hand. You pull out your notes, mentally sorting through ideas for the next episode. There are some technical changes you want to make, as well as a few suggestions for adjusting the flow. Arthur has been quiet on your ideas lately, so you’re hoping that putting them in writing might make things easier.

Taking a deep breath, you open your messages and start typing to Arthur:

You: Hi Arthur, I’ve been thinking about the next episode and wanted to run a few ideas by you.

You: For the intro, I was thinking of tightening it up a bit, maybe cutting down some of the back-and-forth, and then transitioning into the discussion on science in the media. I think it might flow better that way.

You: Also, I’m planning to shift the pacing a little so the segments feel smoother, and not too abrupt. Let me know if you have any thoughts or if you’d like to adjust anything.

You re-read the message once more, making sure it doesn’t sound too casual or too formal, and then hit send.

A few minutes pass before his reply shows up.

Arthur: Yeah, we could do that.

It’s short, too short, and it doesn’t feel like the kind of confirmation you were hoping for. It’s polite but distant. You hesitate, wondering if you should clarify more or give him a bit of space. But it’s hard to tell with Arthur, he’s never the type to volunteer his thoughts unless you push.

You quickly type back:

You: Great. I’ve also been thinking about how we structure the segments. Maybe we could break up the discussion a bit more, and give each part a clearer focus. Do you think that could work? Or is that going too far off track from the way things have been?

A long minute goes by. You begin to second-guess your approach. Should you have sent a more detailed outline? Would it have been better to just go over these ideas in person? You glance at your phone again, willing it to buzz with a more substantial response.

Finally, the next message comes in.

Arthur: I’m not sure about breaking up the segments too much. We’ve got a rhythm, and I don’t want to mess with that unless it’s necessary. But I’m open to tweaking the flow a little like you said.

You feel a slight frustration creeping in, but you try to keep it in check. Arthur’s always like this, careful with changes, and meticulous about keeping the podcast grounded in its original structure. You don’t necessarily disagree, but it can be hard to push for progress when he’s so cautious.

You type your response, trying to phrase it in a way that respects his approach but still moves things forward:

You: Got it. I just think tightening up the pacing could help us maintain the energy. But I’ll make sure not to mess with anything too much.

There’s a brief pause before his reply comes in again.

Arthur: I’m not saying don’t change anything. Just let’s take it slow, yeah?

His tone, though still a bit distant, seems less cold this time. It’s clear that he doesn’t want to fully shut you down, but he’s also not ready to embrace your suggestions completely.

You let out a soft breath, your fingers hovering over the phone for a second, unsure of how to respond. Arthur’s cautious nature is wearing you thin, but you remind yourself, that this is progress, even if it’s slow. Extremely slow.

You reply with:

You: Absolutely, I’ll keep it gradual. I appreciate you taking the time to go over these with me.

The reply comes quickly this time.

Arthur: No problem.

It’s the most he’s said to you all day, and despite the still-cautious tone, you can’t help but feel a bit of relief. Maybe it’s small, but it’s something.

You sit back in your chair and breathe out slowly, feeling a little more at ease with the upcoming recording. There’s still a long way to go before things feel comfortable with Arthur, but this message, this little back-and-forth, the slight conversation reminds you that Arthur is human just like you.

You smile to yourself, finally putting your phone down. You’ll just have to take things one episode at a time.

The next morning, you arrive at the studio early, hoping to get everything ready before the others show up. The low hum of the air conditioning fills the otherwise quiet room, and you take a deep breath as you begin setting up the equipment. You double-check the microphones, adjust the levels on the soundboard, and make sure the recording software is ready to go.

A few minutes later, you hear the door open. Arthur steps inside, looking as serious as ever. He gives you a brief nod, not quite warm, but not cold either, and heads to the table without saying much.

“Good morning,” you say, trying to sound casual, though you can’t help the slight tension in your voice.

“Morning,” he responds without much inflexion, his eyes briefly flicking toward you before he focuses on the phone in his hand.

You watch him for a moment, then turn your attention back to the equipment. You’ve been thinking a lot about the changes you planned to implement. You’ve adjusted the intro to be a bit tighter, and you want to suggest a new structure for the segments. It’s all part of trying to help the show feel a little fresher without losing what’s already there.

“I made some changes to the intro,” you say, breaking the silence. “I tightened it up a bit. It should help with pacing.”

Arthur doesn’t immediately respond, but you can feel his attention shift toward you. He doesn’t look thrilled, but he’s not dismissing it outright either.

“I’ll listen to it when we start recording,” he mutters, taking a sip of his coffee. “As long as you didn’t go overboard.”

You nod, trying to suppress the knot forming in your stomach. You’d hoped for a little more enthusiasm, but at least he didn’t shut you down completely.

“Maybe add a little more interaction with the camera so it feels a bit more connected, you know?”

Arthur raises an eyebrow, setting his coffee mug down with a faint clink. “Connected, huh? Well, I suppose we can try it. As long as you don’t mess with the format too much.”

You smile slightly, but there’s a hint of tension behind the smile. “I won’t. Just a few adjustments here and there.”

Arthur considers it for a moment. “Yeah, we could do that. I hope it doesn’t hurt to try something new.

His words hang in the air, and you feel the sting of the backhanded compliment. It’s not exactly praise, but it’s not a flat-out rejection either. You try to keep your tone positive as you reply, “Right. Just a few adjustments to see how it feels.”

Arthur takes another sip of his coffee, watching you with a careful expression. “Well, as long as you’re not trying to turn it into something it’s not, it should be fine. But don’t get too attached to any one idea if it doesn’t work.”

You nod, keeping your voice steady. “Understood. I think it could help.”

Arthur stands still for a moment, his gaze flickering over to the soundboard. “Fine,” he says, though there’s a slight edge to his tone. “Just don’t change everything all at once. People don’t like it when things change too fast.”

You smile, doing your best to keep things professional. “Of course. Just a few small things.”

He nods but doesn’t say anything else as he heads toward the door. “Alright. I’ll be in the recording room. Let’s see what happens.”

As the rest of the team arrives and the session gets underway, you try to keep the changes subtle, hoping to ease into the new structure without rocking the boat too much. Arthur watches you closely, though he doesn’t offer much in the way of feedback, and you can’t quite tell if he’s warming up to the ideas or just biding his time.

When the session wraps up, you take a deep breath, trying to gauge his reaction. Arthur’s expression is neutral, but his words are the first sign of approval you’ve gotten, even if it’s more reserved than you’d like.

“Not bad,” he says, still with that distant edge to his tone.

You nod, not quite sure how to respond. His approval, if you can even call it that, feels like it’s wrapped in layers of hesitance. But it’s something. It’s progress, at least.

“Thanks, Arthur,” you say, forcing a smile. “I’m glad it worked out.”

He meets your gaze for a brief moment, then turns to pack up his things. “Yeah, well. I’ll catch you next time.”

You watch him go, feeling that same mix of frustration and resolve. Gaining Arthur’s trust is going to take more than a few changes to the show. But you’re in it for the long haul.

The evening air is crisp as you walk home, the sound of your footsteps echoing in the quiet street. The weight of the day’s recording session feels better now, and you can’t help but feel a small sense of relief. Arthur’s approval, however reserved, was a step in the right direction. Things felt like they were getting better, even if it was just by a little bit.

As you push open the door to your flat, the familiar warmth greets you, and you let out a deep breath. The apartment is quiet except for the soft clink of dishes from the kitchen. Emma’s sitting at the table, as she scrolls through her phone.

“Hey,�� she says without looking up. “How’d it go today?”

You drop your bag by the door and kick off your shoes. “Better. Arthur was still… Arthur. But I think he’s starting to warm up to the changes. He even said the pacing was tighter, so that’s something.”

Emma looks up, raising an eyebrow. “Tighter? That’s progress, right?”

“Yeah,” you reply, sinking into the chair across from her. “He said it wasn’t a disaster. So, I’m counting that as a win.”

Emma grins turning off her phone to give you her attention. “You’re definitely making progress, then. Sounds like you’re wearing him down.”

“I don’t know about wearing him down,” you say, laughing. “But it feels like he’s finally starting to see what I’m trying to do. It’s definitely not smooth sailing, but I think I’m on the right track.”

“Good,” she says, putting her phone down. “You’ve got this. I told you it’d get better.”

You smile, grateful for her support. “Yeah. Thanks for keeping me grounded.”

The conversation drifts to other things as Emma talks about her day, but in the back of your mind, you can’t help but replay the moments from the recording session. The small victories, the subtle shifts in Arthur’s attitude.

A few days later, the podcast episode finally gets released on YouTube. You’re sitting in your room, headphones on, making some final tweaks to the next episode’s edits when your phone lights up with a notification. It’s from Arthur.

You pause, lifting your phone to read the message.

Arthur: People liked the episode. It was a good idea.

You blink at the screen, not sure what to make of it. Arthur’s compliment is brief, but there’s a certain sincerity in it that you haven’t felt from him before. It’s not effusive praise, but it’s the closest he’s come to offering any kind of real recognition.

You tap out a reply.

You: Thanks! I’m glad it worked out. I thought the pacing changes would help. Do you think we can keep it for next time?

There’s a pause before his reply comes through.

Arthur: Yeah, I think it could work. We’ll see how it plays out over time. But it didn’t mess things up, so that’s something.

You smile to yourself, feeling the smallest spark of pride at his words. It’s still not glowing praise, but it’s progress. You decide to push your luck a bit further.

You: Well, it’s good to know it didn’t ruin everything. I was a little worried about messing with the format too much, but I think it’s working so far.

The phone buzzes again, and you tap to read the response.

Arthur: It’s fine. Just don’t get too attached to one idea. We might need to adjust some stuff as we go. But, yeah, it worked. For now.

You laugh softly, appreciating his honesty, even if it’s wrapped in that typical reserved Arthur style. He’s not exactly glowing, but it’s the most approval you’ve received from him yet.

You: Got it. I’m just trying to make sure the podcast feels fresh without losing what makes it good. Thanks for sticking with it.

Another moment passes before he replies, and you can almost picture him standing there, weighing his words.

Arthur: I don’t like to change much, but if it helps the podcast, I’m all for it. Just don’t go too crazy.

You grin at the message, feeling a wave of relief. Maybe you’re finally on the same page after all.

You: No worries, I’ll keep it balanced. Appreciate the feedback, Arthur. It really means a lot.

Arthur’s reply is quick.

Arthur: Yeah, well. Don’t expect me to say it often. But you’re doing alright so far.

You can’t help but laugh aloud at that, even though his words still carry that distant edge. It’s better than nothing, though.

You: I’ll take it. Thanks, Arthur.

Arthur: You’re welcome.

The conversation ends, and you lean back in your chair, a smile tugging at your lips. It wasn’t exactly the kind of glowing feedback you might have hoped for, but it’s progress. Real progress. For the first time, you feel like maybe, just maybe, you’re starting to fit in.

As you settle back into your editing, you can’t help but replay his words in your mind, and for the first time, you start to believe that things might just work out after all.

The morning feels different today. You’re getting ready for the studio, but there’s something about today that feels a little more intentional. As you stand in front of the bathroom mirror, you take your time. You swipe a bit of makeup on your face, just enough to brighten your eyes and smooth out the skin, a small effort to look more put together than usual. You’ve got plans after work, meeting up with your friends for a drink, so you figure why not make a little more effort than usual?

When you finish, you pull on a nice shirt and a pair of black jeans. It’s still casual but just a little more polished than the usual hoodie and jeans. You grab your bag, check yourself one last time in the mirror, and nod to yourself. You look good, or at least better than the usual rush of getting ready in the mornings.

The studio is a short walk away, and by the time you arrive, you feel like you’ve set a tone for the day. You’re ready to take on whatever comes, but there’s a small, fluttering excitement in the back of your mind about the evening plans.

When you step inside the studio, you’re immediately greeted by the familiar sound of the equipment being set up, Isaac moving around, and Arthur sitting at the desk with a coffee cup in hand. His eyes flick up briefly as you enter, but it’s Arthur, he doesn’t seem to acknowledge the extra effort you’ve put into your appearance. Still, you can’t shake the feeling that something feels different today.

You settle into your usual spot, plugging in your laptop and starting to prep the recording software. As you get everything lined up, you notice out of the corner of your eye that Arthur is staring at you.

It’s subtle at first. A glance here, a longer look there. But as he munches on his breakfast, you realise it’s more than just casual glances. He’s looking at you, his focus a little too intense. You can almost feel his gaze, and it’s starting to make you a bit uncomfortable.

You take a deep breath and finally turn your head toward him. “You okay?” you ask, trying to keep your tone casual, though you can feel the uncertainty hanging in the air.

Arthur blinks, his eyes darting away from you for a split second. He’s caught off guard, but he quickly recovers, wiping his mouth with a napkin before replying. “Yeah. Fine. Just… wondering where you’re going after this.”

His voice is frustratingly neutral, but you can sense there’s something off, he’s not his usual distant self, but the tone of his question has an edge of curiosity that seems out of place.

You glance at him for a moment, unsure of how to read the energy shift. “Oh, I’m going out with my friends after this,” you explain, shrugging a little as if it’s no big deal. “It’s been a while, and I thought I’d take a break from work tonight.”

Arthur nods slowly, then goes back to his food, but his eyes flick up again, almost like he’s trying not to stare directly at you. The silence that falls between you both feels heavier than usual.

“Okay,” he mutters as if he’s forcing the words out.

You try to ignore the strange tension that’s started to build between you two. You turn back to your laptop, hoping to get back to focusing on the work at hand. But out of the corner of your eye, you can still feel Arthur’s eyes on you, lingering, as if he’s studying you more than he usually does.

It’s distracting, and you can’t help but wonder why. Is it because you look a little more put together today? Or is it something else? You tell yourself not to overthink it, but it’s hard not to when his eyes keep flicking back to you in little bursts.

You take a deep breath and shift your focus back to your work, doing your best to ignore the weight of his stare.

The walk home feels longer than usual, the familiar path beneath your feet blurring as your mind races. You replay the day in your head, the awkward interactions, the looks, the laughter. Every small detail becomes magnified, making you question everything.

What did I do wrong? Did I mess something up?

Your thoughts spiral. You can’t shake the image of Arthur staring at you earlier, or how Isaac had looked at him before they both laughed. It didn’t seem malicious, but it felt… weird. Were they laughing at me?

You pull out your phone, your fingers itching to ask someone, to get an answer. You open your messages and send a text to Isaac, hoping he can give you some clarity.

You: Hey, what was all the laughing about today?

You quickly tuck the phone back into your pocket, your heart beating a little faster. What if you’re reading too much into it? What if it’s nothing?

A few minutes later, your phone buzzes, and you pull it out to see Isaac’s reply.

Isaac: Just Arthur being weird, don’t worry about it.

You frown at the screen, not satisfied with that answer. What does that mean?

The message takes a little longer this time, and when it comes, it’s just a short, Nothing important.

You bite your lip, not ready to let it go just yet. But what were you laughing about, exactly?

There’s a slight delay, and then another message pops up.

Isaac: Alright, alright. Arthur just said you looked good today, that’s all.

Your heart skips a beat. Arthur said that? The Arthur who barely looks at you unless he has to? That Arthur?

You stare at your screen for a long moment, not sure how to process it. Finally, you type back,

You: He said I looked good?

Isaac’s reply is quick.

Isaac: Yeah, he did. He’s not great at giving compliments, but he meant it, trust me.

You blink at your phone, your stomach fluttering a little.

You: Well, that’s nice. I guess.

There’s a brief pause before Isaac’s next message arrives.

Isaac: Don’t overthink it, alright? Arthur’s just a little odd sometimes. But yeah, he meant it. Between us, he really meant it.

You exhale, finally feeling a bit better. Maybe it was nothing to worry about after all. Arthur’s compliment, though awkwardly delivered, was still a compliment. A compliment that made your cheeks slightly pink without realising.

You slip your phone back into your pocket, your thoughts slowing down as you continue your walk home.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁౨ৎ. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Chapter Three

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a/n: i hope you guys like my chapter 2 I PROMISE THERE WILL BE LOVE JUST REMEMBER ITS A SLOW BURN

for my lovely commenters:

@rubyskies @rkaya @pookietv @rougetv @arthurhillmastermind @picklepiastri @pretendyoucantseeme

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Backburner 2

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: your boss is easy going until he’s not. 

Characters: Sam Wilson, this reader is known as Dizzie.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

💼Part of the Bad Bosses AU💼

“Diz,” Sam strolls up to your desk, startling you so your chair tilts dangerous, “what are you doing tonight?” 

Your lips open and you blink, turning your dumb expression into a weird smile. You sputter, surprised by the question. You take a breath and fix your posture. 

“Drinks,” you blurt out. 

“You asking me out?” He tweaks a brow and smirks. 

“Oh, no, me and the girls. It’s cocktail night!” You can’t help but clap your hands. 

“Cocktails? Get an appletini on me,” he says. 

“I’m more into mimosas,” you say sheepishly, “is there--” your smile twitches, “is there something tonight? For work? Did I forget--” 

“No, I was curious. Was gonna offer you some tickets to this hockey game. I’m not much into it but a vendor sent them.” 

“Mm, no, I’m not very sporty. I did play badminton in high school but I don’t really know about hockey or whatever,” you shrug, “sorry.” 

“That’s fine, I’ll ask Marty. I think he’s a Habs fan. Go figure.” 

You nod and wait until he strides away to go back to your work. Well, you were playing solitaire when he walked up but it’s been a very dull day. You sigh and check your phone. You’re still on for tonight. The girls all seem jazzed for it. Except for Izzie but she’s living her life up in some confidential location. 

You piddle away the day. Sam can’t seem to sit still as he comes in and out of his office several times to chat or just to ask you the same questions over and over. Admittedly, it’s a slow day. When at last you’re free, you’re eager to get home and get into something cuter. 

Your commute goes quickly as you listen to a podcast about animal facts. You get off at your stop and hurry to your building. That feathered sweater is going to look so cute with your mini skirt. You put on the loud red top over the primary blue sheath and pick out your platform loafers. You’re a bit topsy turvy and a few mimosas won’t help that but you’re ready for fun. 

You get to Retro’s at the same time as Rosie and jump her with a surprise hug from behind. You giggle as you enter and give your reservation to the hostess. She remembers you from all the other times and gets you seated. The 80s hits bop from the speakers as you wiggle in your seat. 

“I love Whitney,” you vibe along. 

“You’re silly,” Rosie chides. 

“Come on, get funky,” you clasp your fingers through each other and do the wormy thing with your arms. 

““Hey, guys,” Missie appears in a cluster of polka dots and frills, “how’s it going?”  

“Miss Missie,” you greet her with a giggle, “waiting to get the party started.”  

“Ah, yes,” she sighs and rubs her shoulders, “after today, I need a double! My boss... well, let’s leave work at work.”  

“Izzie’s not coming,” Rosie says.  

“Yeah, too bad. I can’t remember the last time I saw her,” Missie tuts. “Excuse me, I gotta hit the bathroom.”  

Missie walks off and you and Rosie chatter about the new knitting pattern she found on pinterest. She shows you on your phone as the din fades into the back of your mind. You’re a bit too talented at blocking out the world.  

“I feel better,” Missie proclaims as she sits down, “been holding my bladder since work.”  

“The others on their way?” Elfie asks as she appears behind the other girl. You flinch in surprise, ripped back into reality.  

“Georgie’s running behind,” Rosie says, “she just messaged. And Billie’s been quiet today.”  

Elfie sits and you all reach for your phones in unison. You open up Izzie’s video message and show the table her recording of a parachute jump. Wow! You wouldn’t mind trying that one day.  

Billie shows up shortly after as the chatter around the table continues. You sit with Rosie and Georgie joins you soon after, looking defeated as she explains she’s going away tomorrow. It all sounds so exciting. Izzie’s jumping out of planes, Georgie’s going to Barbados, and Billie got a new position. Your job is so boring. As fun as Sam is, he’s predictable. 

You get into the music again, swaying and bouncing, as Billie gives you the side-eye. The waitress approaches with a full tray but you don’t remember ordering. Elfie crinkles her nose, “I don’t think that’s for us.” 

You eye the bright green drinks in stemmed glasses. 

“Some gentlemen sent them,” the server nods over her shoulder. 

You sit forward to see through the crowd and a hand waves over the heads. You stand slightly as a few other girls raise themselves up. The waitress hands out the appletinis and Billie mutters about her tequila. 

“Who is that?” Rosie asks. 

“That’s my boss,” you exclaim and wave back at Sam. 

“What the hell is he...” Billie starts then quickly turns around and hides. “Shit, he’s with my boss!” 

“Your boss?” Elfie wonders. 

“One of them,” Billie growls. 

“And... is that... Mr. Rogers?” Rosie utters. “What are the odds?” 

You purse your lips and look down at the glass. Well, you did tell him you’d be there so you’re not so sure of the coincidence. You’re not going to tell them though, Billie looks ready to fight. 

“It’s so nice of them to send some drinks though,” you say. 

“Yeah,” Rosie agrees. 

“But why?” Elfie wonders. 

“I won’t deny a free drink,” Missie slurps and her cheeks pinch, “oo, sour.” 

Georgie drinks silently and checks her phone. She quickly tucks it away and takes another deep gulp. Elfie doesn’t taste hers, staring at it in disappointment. Well, you’ll enjoy yours. It’s about time you switched it up. 

“Should we buy them some drinks?” Missie suggests, “it only seems nice.” 

“No, it’s girls’ night,” Billie insists, “that’s just an invitation and I think we can all agree, we’re done with bosses tonight.” 

“Here here,” Elfie raises her glass for a cheers, “fuck work.” 

[piftamere]

maki ending (wc : 1.2k ; cw : hospital room, brief description of the crash, mentions of death)

in your hospital bed, you feel small, you look small too. you're paler than usual, dark circles surround your tired eyes. you broke your left arm and now a cast envelops it.

“never scare me like that again” and a couple “i love you”s can be read on the white bandages, written by yuuji and kugisaki. flowers, ballons and a teddy bear decorate your room.

the doctor came by earlier, you're going to be okay. you should be out of the hospital in a few days. the police came too but megumi told them to come back tomorrow. you’re thankful he did.

megumi, yuuji and kugi look exhausted but they're smiling, you don’t have the heart to ask them to leave so you can rest. their presence is comforting, you’ll sleep later.

your ribs hurt when you breathe and even worse when you laugh, but you still reward yuuji’s poor attempts at lightening the mood with a chuckle. you can tell he needs it, you all need it.

when you recognized the driver as satoru’s former assistant, your heart missed a beat. you asked her to stop the car, but she started ranting to you, accusing you of ruining her life, of using people then discarding them.

you were so scared, you really thought you were going to die in that car. she kept speeding while not focusing on the road. going on and on about how you were a terrible person. and when she swerved off the road to avoid another car, you saw your life flash before your eyes. you saw the faces of everyone you would never get to see again. maki’s face.

you’ll never forget the fear you felt when the car flipped over.

your thoughts are interrupted by frantic knocks on the bedroom door, megumi invites them in.

maki comes in, she’s slightly panting.

“we’ll leave you two alone.” megumi says to you, his hand on your shoulder, before gesturing for everyone else to leave the room.

she sits in the chair next to your bed, panic still evident in her eyes.

“hi.” you whisper, with a small smile, glad to have her by your side.

“hi,” she whispers back, bringing her hand to cup your cheek, “how are you feeling pretty girl?”

as you lean into her touch, enjoying the warmth of her skin on yours, you chuckle, wincing a bit at the sudden pain, “i’m not sure the nickname fits right now, but i’m feeling better now that you’re here.”

her face softens, she looks at you with so much love in her eyes. but you can still see a glimpse of worry in her expression, “you’re still the prettiest girl i’ve ever seen.”

you place your hand on top of hers, you notice her cheeks are a bit red. “did you run here?”

“i ran up the stairs, the elevator would’ve taken too long.” she smiles, a bit sheepishly.

“you didn’t need to, i’m not going anywhere.”

she sighs, “i know, but i had to. i was so worried.”

“i’m okay now.”

she nods, giving you a small smile, “you’re okay.”

“before the accident i was at an interview, you know? for a podcast.”

“hm?” she hums, inviting you to continue.

“it’s funny because i was doing the interview, answering the same old questions and i started talking about my love for music, how it’s my passion and the only thing i want to do in life, how i feel like it’s what i was born to do you know?” as you talk, you examine her features. she tilts her head slightly, not sure where you’re going with this. “but while i was rambling on and on, something felt wrong, it was different from all the other times i’d given that same speech. because all i could think about was you. that’s how i feel about you too. i love you, and i’m tired of pretending i don’t. when you kissed me, i wasn’t ready, i’m sorry about leaving like that. too much was happening and i couldn’t think clearly. but i’m ready now.”

when you finish speaking, her eyes are wide but she’s smiling, “you-you love me?”

“i love you. as more than a friend.”

“i love you too,” in the blink of an eye, she’s hanging around your neck. her knee propped up on the mattress as not to crush you. she mumbles in your neck, “i’m not hurting you, am i?”

you shake your head, wrapping your arms around her waist tightly, “no, don’t worry.”

she stays in your arms for a while, silently enjoying the steady beat of your heart. you speak up, your voice shakes a little, “maki? would i be a coward if i wanted to quit?”

she pulls away from you, just enough to look into your eyes, “do you want to?”

“i tried to act like it didn’t bother me, but i've been so stressed lately. and i was so scared...”

she scans your face, before exhaling deeply. she brings both of her hands to your face, holding you close to her, as she looks into your eyes. “hey… it's okay pretty girl, you don't have to make a decision right now. you’ve been under a lot of stress, professional and personal, and you have every right to feel like that. it doesn’t make you a coward.”

you sigh, relaxing a little, “okay… thank you maki.”

you scoot over to the side of the bed, making room for her.

“come. you can’t say no i almost died today.”

she smiles, shaking her head and silently sliding in bed next to you.

careful not to touch your cast, she wraps her arms around your waist, gently, like she’s afraid of breaking you.

in her embrace, the tension that has been gripping your body since the accident begins to ease. you finally feel safe, for the first time since the crash. the hospital room and the pain fade away, and all that remains is the warmth of her body against yours.

resting her hand on your shoulder, maki says softly, “you know, i've always been proud of needing no one. of handling myself just fine on my own.”

you hum, “i’ve always admired that about you, how independent you are.”

“but... ever since knowing you, and especially during those hours of not knowing how you were... i’ve never been so terrified. i can't imagine my life without you in it.”

“yeah? i can’t imagine my life without you in it either.”

“yes, i need you. and for the first time in my life, i don’t feel ashamed to rely on someone.”

you gently kiss her forehead, resting your head on hers. she tightens her hold on your waist, and you drift off to sleep in each other's arms.

fun facts :

yn's break ended around a month before getting her Grammy nomination

she's still less active on social media, to protect her privacy

since moving to kyoto, her friends come to visit regularly, or she goes to tokyo, but she still misses them a lot.

yn decided to move to kyoto for a fresh start and she has no regrets.

it wasn't their first date ever, but the first since moving in together

megumi and yn still work together, but less often due to the distance

author's note

ignore if some things dont make sense :3

it's the end of tugging on heartstrings </3

its more suggestive than the other endings but i didn't mean to 😗😗 it just kinda happened eheh

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ tugging on heartstrings ⋆⭒˚｡⋆

as an aspiring solo artist, you dream of making it big in the music industry. With your talent and unwavering determination, you find yourself entangled in a web of romantic pursuits amidst rumors and betrayal. Will you emerge unscathed and manage to navigate your love life in the chaos of fame?

Part thirty-eight - the end

rbs and interactions are highly appreciated <3

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[elisysd]

19. And in a blink of a crinkling eye I'm sinking, our fingers entwined

Masterlist - Previously - Next

Chapter soundtrack : So High School - Taylor Swift

Charles let out a scream as his engineer announced the P1 after crossing the checkered flag. Pole position. Finally,  And in front of you, he cockily thought. He was so excited to see your face, to hear your words and your analysis. That was his favorite part after a race. Listening to you commenting on his moves, praising him and calling him stupid when he deserved it. He went through his duties with a smile on his face but was already fully focused on the sprint shootout the next day and the sprint race. When Silvia told him he had a little time to relax before the team meeting, he jumped out of the media pen and ran towards the hospitality. 

You were there, talking to Joris and Antoine, a smile beaming on your face. Joris was the first one to notice him and to tell the group he was coming. You turned around and Charles took a second to appreciate how you looked in your blue jeans overall and cowboy boots. Casual but very on-brand with the GP atmosphere. On his way to you he picked up a cowboy hat left there for decoration, and put it on your head when he got closer. Now, you were perfect. 

“The one-lap king has arrived,” you greeted him, putting both hands on his shoulders to pull him into you. 

“King? Where is my crown, then?” he joked around as he shook his best friends’ hands. 

You left his embrace to take your hat away and place it on his head.

“Here. You look good, now. All sweaty and red with a sparkling cowboy hat.” 

He didn’t notice straight away Antoine snapping a picture of him. 

“Hey! I swear if you upload that picture, you’re fired.”

“And who would make you look good on Instagram?” Antoine shrugged. 

“I can find a new photographer.”

“Maybe but you’re too lazy to actually search for one.”

Charles tried to hit his friend’s shoulder but missed it, making everyone laugh. This day felt good to Charles. He was happy and confident about the weekend, for the first time in months. 

And he was right to be, despite being a bit salty from missing another pole, for the sprint race this time, for a few tenths. But it didn’t last long as your smile and your support were everything he needed to have before the sprint race. He ended up P3, a good result for him, confirming the pace and how he felt driving the car for a few GPs now. But now that the sprint race was over, his eyes were on the trophy and the pole position he wouldn’t easily give up the next day. 

That’s why it hurt him so bad to learn about the disqualification a few minutes after the race. Your smile wasn’t as happy and bright as the day before, replaced by a pitying look and a consolation hug. Austin was a race to forget, like most of them since the beginning of the season. 

The next two races were like a rollercoaster with some highs and some lows. A podium in Mexico and a DNS in Interlagos that had Charles crying in your arms, defeated and frustrated. It had taken a while to make him forget his worries and you were relieved to have a break before Vegas. He needed it. As for you, you had worked tirelessly on your podcast, managing to make a few interviews. The editing for the one with Silvia was almost done and you had managed to talk to Ruth Buscombe who knew Charles very well. It had been an enlightening hour for you and you couldn’t wait for people to hear her words. You also were on your way to book an interview with Claire Williams after Abu Dhabi, you only needed to go over the details. The visuals for your media was also ready and the announcement had been shared online. It had only taken an Instagram’s story from Charles where he had reposted the poster of your podcast, for your media to gain a few thousands followers in a few minutes. Now, you just needed to build up the hype around it before launching the first episode. 

“Still working?” Charles asked, appearing in the kitchen of the villa rented a little outside of Los Angeles, in his swimming trunks.

“I’m almost done. I need this to be perfect, I want it to be interesting for people, I want them to learn stuff…”

“You’re putting too much pressure on yourself.”

“You’re one to talk mister ‘I’m blaming myself for every little fuck ups that are out of my control’.”

“Okay, you won. But you are missing out on something great out there,” Charles shrugged. 

“Is the pool that good?”

“The pool is and the view as well,” he said, pointing at himself to make you chuckle. 

“Give me five more minutes and then I’m all yours.”

Five minutes turned into a whole hour before you finally closed your laptop, happy and relieved to be done with the editing. It was becoming more and more real, now, and you were half excited and half anxious to upload the first episode. You already had a date. It would be the first Monday following Abu Dhabi. You still had a lot of things to prepare before the release date. 

Walking outside you took a little moment to look at the view in front of you. Your boyfriend was playing with Joris in the pool, like two kids, while Andrea was trying his best to make sure they wouldn’t hurt themselves and Antoine was filming the whole scene. You smiled blissfully. If life was always like this with Charles, you would sign up for a lifetime in the blink of an eye. 

You didn’t know how much you needed holidays until you were actually on holiday. Charles had convinced you to leave your laptop on the side for a few days and since then, you had spent every single day, sunbathing with a book in your hand while Charles was making sure you were properly fed. It had even turned into a joke at some point, Joris saying he acted like your personal slave. You  had fun. And you couldn’t remember when was the last time you had felt this carefree. You were walking hand in hand with Charles in the streets, sharing ice cream and fighting over which flavor was the best. For you nothing could beat strawberry when Charles was deeply attached to his good old vanilla. You even went to the Universal Studios where Charles had dragged you and Andrea on the scariest rides. 

But soon, it was time for you to leave for Las Vegas for the penultimate race of the season. You were excited and curious to see what it would look like and you also knew Charles was eager to perform there. He was in a winning mindset and you would lie if you were saying you didn’t find that very sexy. Everything in Vegas was made for tourists and F1 fans, from goodies, to extravagant posters, to people stopping you in the streets to tell you all about the opening ceremony and how grandiloquent it was going to be. It wasn’t hyping you in the slightest, instead it was starting to annoy you. F1 was not a circus, it was first and foremost a sport. But Charles was excited and you didn’t want to kill his mood, so you kept your mouth shut. 

“It’s fun, it’s different! And if it can bring a new audience to the sport, who am I to criticize it?” he told you when you first started to emit some doubts. 

“Max sure has a different opinion than you.”

“But you know Max. I’m not him, I’m more optimistic.”

“You’re an idealist, Charles. It’s both of your biggest strength and your biggest flaws,” you gently smiled at him, while you were adjusting your dress, all dolled up for the ceremony. He sent you an appreciative look when you made your way into the room. 

“Now, seeing you in that red dress might be a good reason to stay there and to skip the ceremony.”

He got up from the bed and took you in his arms, trying to kiss your mouth but you deflected at the very last moment resulting in a simple kiss on the cheek. 

“I spent almost an hour on my make up, I won’t let you ruin it.”

“Fine. If you don’t let me ruin it now, maybe you’ll let me later, right?”

“Behave and you’ll find out,” you winked at him before taking your purse and his hand as you both made your way out of the hotel room. 

Arriving at the track, you were blinded by the lights and the crowd. Soon enough, you found yourself being separated from Charles as he had duties to attend. You wander along the different activities and sponsor stands trying to get yourself into the mood of the weekend. But the noise, the crows, the lights soon left you lightheaded and you decided to isolate yourself. You had almost made it out of the paddock when you bumped into a hard chest that made you look up to apologize. What, or more like who, stood up in front of you made your heart miss a beat and your mouth turned dry. 

“Y/N… fancy, seeing you here.”

“Stan? What the hell are you doing in Vegas?”

“I’m accompanying my girlfriend. Her work brought her here. I thought you could be around but I didn’t think I would see you this soon.”

You didn’t know what to say. He was the last person you expected to come across. He looked the same as before but everything in him was disgusting to you, to the point you wondered how you could have ever thought about dating him. 

“Your girlfriend?” you managed to stutter. 

“Yeah. She is right there, by the way. Roxanne ? Please, come here,” he waved at someone behind you. And when Roxanne stood up in front of you, a cold smile on her face, you felt your stomach drop. 

Because Roxanne was looking exactly like you, despite a few differences. So much that it was uncanny and unnerving. 

Author's note: So this is not my best work and I'm sorry about that. It's a filler chapter. I just hope you still liked it!

Don't hesitate to leave a comment or an ask, as well as reblogging and leaving a like. Besides the fact that I absolutely love to read you, it helps a lot for the story to find its audience. I also have a taglist for this story, so if you want to be added so you never miss a chapter, let me know.

If you wanna be part of the taglist, let me know.

Taglist: @itsjustkhaos @thirstylion @cmleitora @charizznorizz @sltwins @boherahpsody @herondalism @roseamongthorns13 @aundercover @snowflakesfluff @fictional-l0v3r @queensassybitchsworld @jehun @reengard @valntynebaby

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[sensei-venus]

Um um um what about one where Jacob and Xolo have actress!reader on their podcast and they are just talking about acting but Jacob stares at her thebwhole time and gushes about her roles she's done before and Xolo teases him for "fanboying" over and having a crush on her?

(Unedited) (No Tags)

Reader really couldn't believe that out of all people Xolo and Jacob would be asking her to be on their podcast.

She originally met Xolo for a quick moment on a big red carpet event. It was months back and it was only for a split second. She had been seated at a table next to his for the dinner part of the event. They had simply said hi and that evolved into a quick conversation before the show started.

A week later he was sending her a DM though Insta a pretty normal conversation compared to some of the other weird messages she has gotten. He just made small talk and asked some general questions. It wasn't long into their small friendship that he asked the odd question.

“Would you be cool coming into the podcast with me and Jacob? As a guest start?”

She found it a little odd but didn't see a problem with it.

Sitting up in the middle of the night in her bed scrolling along. Her eyes reread the message over again to make sure she was actually seeing it right. Thinking it over the idea did sound kinda fun. She had done interviews before of course but never a podcast. It could be kinda fun and she would also be able to hang out with what she was sure of was a good friend. With the tap of a finger she sent a message agreeing to meet up and appear on the podcast the following month.

“Uh Reader are you in there? You okay?” Xolo’s voice broke her out of the small flashback she was having. Gathering her thoughts she nodded before looking over to the tanned man. He grinned as he started to walk into the small building. She quickly fell beside him as they made their way inside. Xolo’s smooth voice rang out “I'm so excited that you actually agreed to come on the podcast. I was kinda scared you wouldn't want to.” Reader laughed a little “Oh come on I couldn't pass up this fun experience! And plus this gives us a reason to actually meet up again, in person.” at that a switch seemed to flip on his brain.

His eyes widened for a moment as if he finally remembered something important “Oh yeah! I totally forgot that the last time we actually saw each other was when we were at that award event.” Reader nodded.

After walking around a few hallways they finally seemed to find the right door.

Before Xolo opened the door all they way he whispered “Dude Jacob is so excited to actually meet you so don't freak out if he's a little weird at first.” Reader raised a brow at him but before she could say something Xolo was pushing the door open. Walking in they were met with a pretty clean and comfortable room. It wasn't the usual set but it was very similar. The vibe was warm and friendly. A splash of oranges and reds filled the room in different things. Fuzzy red bean bags sat on the floor which had a amazing orange and red run underneath.

A few mics were laid around the room as well. A huge set of high-quality and expensive camera equipment. She could only guess that most of the other stuff behind the camera was their streaming equipment. Besides all of that stuff along with a few detective pieces, that was all the room had inside it.

Except for the person sitting in one of the chairs scrolling on his phone before looking up at them. Jacob grinned and shot up from his chair, throwing his phone back into the seat before walking over to them.

“Yo!! Man, you made it right on time I was just about to text you.” he gave the other guy a small side hug. Xolo laughed at his excitement saying “Yeah it's no big deal, I was just waiting for Reader to get here. I wanted to make sure she was able to find her way here. Didn't want her getting lost or anything, plus it gave up a minute to talk.” Jacob only blinked at him. His grin disappeared and was pulled into more of a small smile with a hint of flatness. The look made Reader want to say something but the words caught in her throat.

She had never meet Jacob before and almost all of what she knew about him was from Xolo. Colo talked about him quiet a bit in their texts to each other. It was pretty normals seeing as the two where such good friends and had been on the same show and set for so long now. Their friendship seemed sweet. She couldn't deny that in some of her free time she had sat down and watched a few interview clips of the two friends together. Their friendship was strong and she loved that for them.

Seeing Jacob in person was a whole new experience for her. She didn't exactly expect to feel what she was now feeling. Her cheeks heated up a little at the new feeling of closeness between them.

Jacob was both cute and hot all at once. He was extremely attractive up close and personal. Maybe it was just different then looking at him in some pictures or in a few videos online. Seeing him up close made her see a lot more. His eyes, his nose, ears and brows. All of those stuck out to her in a good way.

In some way her mind tried to rip those thoughts from her consciousness.

Two sets of eyes were on her and for once she felt a little nervous.

In a weak attempt to get the attention off of her for a moment she interjected into their conversation “So are you guys ready to sit down and record this thing?” both boys grinned at her and nodded.

—————————————————————-

Reader couldn't stop laughing at the boys and their silly games. The two were constantly cracking jokes throughout the stream. Every weird little comment and joke had her stomach twisting up in laughter. She had to cover her face for a minute as they all busted out laughing at something Jacob said a moment before.

The laughter slowly died down and soon they were all sitting in a nice calm atmosphere.

“So Reader now that we are getting into this, what has been your favorite role so far?” Xolo asked. Reader gave a small hum before thinking back to all of her past film roles. One of her favorites came to mind but before she could say it Jacob was blurting out his own answer.

“Mine had to be your character Missy from Sweet Dreams with Love. Amazing acting on your part and you pulled it off perfectly. I watched it like fine times, it's one of my favorite movies too.” his voice filled with a hint of excitement. Readers fave heated up a little bit. That was such a old movie that she had stared in. It was actually one of the first gigs she ever got.

Xolo leaned over in his chair a little “Oh so you know some of Reader's work then?” he said into the mic.

Jacob snorted saying “Yeah, Sweet Dreams with Love, Voice from Above, Ran Faster, She Sleeps at Dawn. I even watched that one show, Meet me at Freddy's that she was in for a while.” his voice started ti get a little more pitched as he went on “Her character type that she plays is just so good, and she plays them perfectly in my opinion. When I hear she's in something new I always just hope she's playing the same character type because it fits her as an actress so perfectly.” he sat back in his seat.

Readers face felt like it was now on fire with what she had just heard.

She couldn't believe that Jacob was a fan of her work like that. Hearing him talk about her and even the work she had been in made her feel all bubbly inside. She didn't expect him to name so many movies and tv shows. A feeling of warmth sped through her chest at the new information.

Xolo laughed loudly while putting his hands up “Wow okay so apparently our boi Jacob might just be a super fan guys. I'm learning something every day with this guy.”

“Don't make it sound weird man-”

“No no for Reader’s sake I will stop before you start fanboying again. You might start drooling on her or something, or worst try and hunp her leg in the studio. I don't want to see that and I doubt out views do either.” Xolo says pointing at the camera with a smirk. Jacob slumps back with slightly pink cheeks. His eyes rolling as he looks away from them for a split second. He's right back to his regular self only seconds later, cracking a joke not even a minute latter and making them laugh.

The rest of the show is spent talking and joking, having a good conversation about Reader's life and career.

But all that talking doesn't stop Reader from feeling all warm. Her eyes strayed from Xolo and the camera a bit too much. Instead they found their way to Jacob. Watching every slight movement he made. Like her brain was taking notes for something later. She didn't know why but the more she looked at him the more she questioned him.

She wanted to know more about him. What he liked and didn't. What his hobbies where and his favorite places to go.

She wanted to know if he really did like her characters.

Because if he truly did, then he would like her seeing as almost all of her characters were almost always tailored to herself. Every character that she ever tried to audition for was similar to her in some way. Her one flaw in acting was not being able to play characters she couldn't really relate to or channel. It was just one of her quirks.

Reader didn't really remember when the podcast ended but soon enough it was just her and Jacob left in the room.

Colo had already taken off after the stream had ended and he claimed to be going home to work on editing some stuff with it. This left her and Jacob alone. They cleaned up a bit before heading out together. The walk to the parking lot was a bit quiet. It was almost as if both of them were a bit embarrassed by what had just taken place inside. They walked side by side as they reached the main part of the lot. The silent was there and caused Reader to flake a little. Any thoughts of asking him about a thing faded. She realized that this was just a one time thing and the chance that Jacob would try to contact her again was-

“Hey so I hope me…sating all of that stuff on stream didn't creep you out. I guess I just get really passionate sometimes. I really do like your movies.” Jacob said while looking over to her. His face was serious, not like the humorous grin he was wearing almost the whole stream.

“No no! I'm actually happy that you like my work so much! It can be hard to tell sometimes if people like my acting or if they just like the movies I'm in. It's nice to know you liked, well me, in them. It's kinda refreshing I guess.” she couldn't help the small part of her that was insecure about her roles. It was hard for an actress like her to know if people liked her work due to her size sometimes. It was a pretty common topic that came up, she hated it. But it was still something she had to deal with.

Jacob seemed to almost understand where she was coming from.

“Yeah no I love you work! You do such an amazing job with your characters. Your also just a really good actress, and well a good person too I guess.” his voice cut out a little at the end. He was definitely hiding something. Reader raised a brow which had the guy every so slightly panicked.

“Okay so maybe I have watched a few interviews you have done and you were real nice. And you're super cute too so I mean you can't blame me for wanting to go watch some videos with you in them, can you?” his eyes meet hers. For a minute they just stood there looking at each other.

She couldn't help but smile at him “No I can't, that's very sweet of you.” Jacob’s look of panic eases at her words.

“Hey um why don't you take this.” Reader fumbled in her pocket for a minute. Feeling around she found what she was looking for. Pulling out a small piece of paper and shoving it into Jacob’s hand. He looks down at his hand in question. Before he could ask her what the paper was she had already started jogging away.

“Just call me okay? Or text me!?” her voice carried through the parking lot before she was out of sight. Jacob could only watch as she ran off. He looked down at his hand and flipped the piece of paper around only to find a business card with her name and number. He smirked to himself before slapping the light card around on his other palm.

He mumbled to himself “And Xolo told me I was being too much of a fanboy, well fanboy got the girls number so…” he laughed a little, giving the empty parking lot one last look before heading home for the day.

[meraki-yao]

TN Candies Part 4

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

As promised, a new candies post to get through the week! This time it’s much less shippy and a little more of a compilation of just some generally sweet moments between them, so I’ll forgo my disclaimers this time, but there are a few more deliberate points at the last section.

Nick’s Affection Towards Taylor

1, In the Cinemagna Interview that was shot during RWRB filming and released in August, a few days before the movie, Nick was asked about working with Taylor, and right as he started to comment on Taylor as a person (as opposed to just working with him), he smiles very sweetly

2, In numerous interviews and editorials when asked to comment on working with Taylor/about Taylor, Nick often brings up “funny”, which implied they talk to each other quite a lot.

3, In the Variety podcast interview, when asked about his chemistry read with Taylor, babygirl straight up giggles a bit before saying they knew immediately they were gonna mates

4, His impression of Taylor in the GQ quiz is actually spot on: “What’s Up, I’m Taylor Zakhar Perez”, spreading his arms, loves to surf, that’s really how Taylor is: Nick really does know Taylor

5, In the recent Hits Radio interview, the question was what is something about Taylor that the public doesn’t know; Nick proceeded to praise Taylor as a person, as opposed to sharing like one of Taylor’s quirks or commenting on working with Taylor: They have a personal connection.

6, Nick tends to be a little more hyper than usual when with Taylor, as seen most prominently in the UK VS US draw-off video

Book Signing War (this isn’t even necessarily candy it’s just a fun thing that’s going on)

1, During the Vogue World event last September, Taylor originally wasn’t gonna sign anything, but saw the books and signed them anyways, quite happily so.

2, Starting from his China trip, Taylor started drawing moustaches on Henry/Nick’s face, starting with the Firstprince PR photo. I don’t think he’s ever missed a chance since lmao

3, During Milan, Nick’s first public event since Taylor started this little war, he first refers to Henry and Alex as “I” and “Taylor”, then said he’s been hearing that Taylor’s been signing on his face, which implies Taylor pops up on his social media radar. Babygirl retaliates by signing over Alex’s face (not even Taylor, it’s book Alex, he really just sees firstprince as them)

4, When the book in 3 was given to Taylor and the fan explained what Nick did, he, with a ???? (like seriously I don’t know how to describe that fucking tone) voice said “Oh he noticed”, and it totally might be a lighting/angle thing but if you look closely at that video, it might seem like he started blushing a little after the fan mentioned Nick

5, During the M&G red carpet, Nick offered to sign a fan’s firstprince card before they could ask him, and immediately went “Taylor’s face is getting signed”

SAG-PGA-Spirit Award Weekend

1, (This one was exclusively observed by the Chinese fans so kind of tin hat, take it with a pinch of salt) When asked about working with Nick on the SAG carpet, Taylor’s immediate reaction is somehow exactly the same as Alex’s after “I think we should make love tonight”: “Oh”, enlarged pupils, quick successive blinks, the first sentence that follow is said with a slight frown (you get the implication, but truthfully imo it’s just that Alex and Taylor share the same shock reaction)

2, For the Spirit Awards, Taylor worn a RED suit with a WHITE undershirt to a BLUE carpet, and WORN A FUCKING PINKIE RING

3, A bit more on the Cartier Watch from part 1: Taylor wore it to the Spirit Award, and Nick wore it to the Vanity event a few days ago. Now here’s where what I read on Weibo and what I read here are in conflict, for simplicity’s sake this time I’ll just directly translate what’s on Weibo for now :

“Oh, I’m so touched. But I saw his stylist (Jason Bolden) tagged Cartier, could this be a partnership with the brand?”

“Taylor could have chosen to just wear the necklace or wear another Cartier watch from a different series, but he worn this one which matches with Nick’s, it has to be a deliberate choice”

“Nope! All the brand for his other accessories were tagged in his(Jason Bolden’s) post, he even tagged Cartier for the necklace, but not for the watch. Cartier only reposted it in their IG story, If it’s an actual collaboration with a brank, he would deliberate pose to show off the watch like he did with LV and TAG Heur, but on the red carpet he hid his Cartier watch, the two photos are from the Vogue photographer”

“Also the celebrity themselves, the brand, and the stylist, all parties would deliberately wear different pieces from the same brand, especially for relatively less pricey watches like the Cartier Tank series (the watch in question). On top of that, they know that Nick’s been wearing this watch for these past couple of months, the night of the Academy Museum Gala where Nick and Taylor stuck by each other’s side the whole night, Nick wore this Cartier watch. Also if it’s an event or partnership with the brand, Taylor wouldn’t have to hide it ”

That’s it for part 4! I think from now on I’ll try to post a candy post every Sunday night (for me). There’s a whole September timeline I need to organize (a lot happened in September but it’s very very tin hat so I’m also trying to filter through what I’m comfortable with posting and what I’m not)

Also if you sent me a candy in my inbox I read it! Thank you for it! If I haven’t posted it yet it’s because I either want to fact check some of the details or want to figure out how to respond

Tagging a couple of folks:

@lfg1986-2 @tal-vez-o-quizas @na-18dia @mylucayathoughts @androgynoustriumphclown @hopefulblizzardsublime @whattfisausername @leimons @ghostwithatophat @badhimboi88 @pippin-katz

[inadeqcies]

— THAT BOY IS A MONSTER ✘ ; a ricardo self para 

𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝙷𝙰𝚅𝙴 𝙱𝙴𝙴𝙽 𝚃𝚁𝙸𝙰𝙻𝙻𝙴𝙳 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝙵𝙾𝚄𝙽𝙳 𝚆𝙰𝙽𝚃𝙸𝙽𝙶 | @redcreekfm !

a manila envelope sits plain and clear on your desk, your name printed in a neat scroll across the front, robotic even, devoid of any human touch. your curiosity about what lies inside will reveal a series of photographs featuring none other than daniela estrada, notably uniformed in the very clothes she wore the last time she was ever seen in red creek. closer inspection leads you to make out another figure - one bronte dubois, and she doesn’t look happy. in fact, neither girls do, their faces just clear enough you can make out what appears to be two people engaged in an argument, something that was never reported to the police. you can take the photos to the police yourself, or you can run with the exclusive story; the consequences of either path are unclear, but the choice is yours alone.

~ 𝚁𝙸𝙲𝙰𝚁𝙳𝙾 𝙶𝙰𝚁𝙲𝙸𝙰 , 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝙷𝙰𝚅𝙴 𝟻 𝙼𝙸𝙽𝚄𝚃𝙴𝚂 𝚃𝙾 𝙲𝙾𝙼𝙿𝙻𝙴𝚃𝙴 𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚂 𝚃𝙴𝚂𝚃 .

ricardo  takes  brief  pause  at  the  envelope  on  his  office  desk  .  he  glances  around  his  closed  off  office  ,  but  nobody  else  has  made  their  way  into  the  register  yet  .  in  fact  it's  quite  unlike  ricardo  to  make  his  way  in  either  .  he's  been  in  ‘  his  office  ’  maybe  thrice  since  arriving  at  redcreek  .  he  can't  help  but  wander  how  long  this  envelope  has  been  sitting  here  for  .  days  ?  hours  ?  minutes  ?  did  someone  ,  somehow  ,  know  he  was  coming  in  before  he  even  did  ? 

distracted  ,  he  reaches  for  the  envelope  and  slides  his  metal  envelope  opener  expertly  under  it  .  ricardo  is  here  for  at  the  register  this  morning  for  one  reason  and  only  :   to  check  billing  and  find  out  who  he  can  fire  with  the  least  ramifications  .  the  register  is  making  him  barely  any  money  ,  which  is  ludicrous  because  the  town  is  basically  on  fire  .  despite  what  true  crime  podcasts  like  to  advertise  ,  nobody  gives  a  shit  about  murdercreek  . 

he  sighs  to  himself  and  reaches  over  to  his  laptop  to  unlock  it  .  it's  clean  and  crisp  ,  just  like  the  rest  of  his  office  .  BLATANTLY  UNUSED  ,  the  way  he  likes  to  be  seen  and  live  .  ricardo  almost  forgets  about  the  envelope  entirely  as  he  brings  up  payroll  and  gives  it  a  cursory  glance  .  there's  more  names  on  there  than  he  expected  which  means  he  has  extra  work  to  do  .  great  .  he  clicks  print  and  waits  for  the  flashy  ,  overly  expensive  new  printer  to  blink  to  life  . 

IT'S  THEN  THAT  HE  LOOKS  AT  WHAT  IS  INSIDE  THE  ENVELOPE  . 

he  immediately  pauses  .

it  takes  him  a  long  time  for  his  brain  to  click  into  gear  and  start  whirring  .  his  hands  move  deftly  over  the  glossy  photos  now  in  his  possession  .  he  recognises  one  person  in  it  immediately  because  he'd  recognise  them  everywhere  .  their  face  has  been  strewn  up  all  over  town  as  soon  as  he  arrived  :  daniela  estrada  . 

the  second  person  in  the  photo  .  .  .   ricardo  does  a  double  take  .  bronte  dubois  ? 

he's  seen  bronte  around  town  but  never  directly  spoken  to  her  .  yet  even  he  knows  for  a  fact  that  there  has  NEVER  been  a  mention  of  bronte  and  daniela  talking  to  each  other  .  and  from  the  photos  ,  it  isn't  just  talking  either  .  their  faces  are  screwed  up  ,  hands  waving  .  daniela  looks  emotional  . 

THEY'RE  ARGUING  . 

ricardo  quickly  moves  to  the  envelope  and  flips  it  over  .  the  writing  on  the  front  had  surpassed  him  the  first  time  ,  and  when  he  looks  :   all  he  can  make  out  is  his  name  in  perfectly  non-descript  font  .  he  feels  his  heart  pick  up  its  beat  as  he  flips  it  over  again  ,  and  again  .  there's  nothing  else  on  it  . 

FINGERPRINTS  .  fuck  .   ricardo  drops  the  envelope  like  he's  been  burned  ,  then  looks  at  the  photos  again  .  he's  touched  the  edges  of  the  photos  ,  but  nothing  else  .  he  should  ,  and  could  ,  realistically  .  .  .  take  this  to  the  police  .

his  mind  flashes  to  daniela  in  the  photo  .  to  bronte  .  to  the  police  and  the  way  they'll  whisk  over  ,  bag  it  up  ,  and  leave  without  a  secondary  word  ,  besides  their  usual  bumbling  TOMFOOLERY  . 

his  heart  clenches  in  his  chest  .  it  moves  like  a  fist  ,  tensing  and  untensing  .  ricardo's  eyes  slide  over  to  daniela  in  the  photos  again  .  he  reaches  a  finger  up  ,  unable  to  stop  himself  ,  and  brushes  his  thumb  over  the  glossy  covering  of  her  .  she  was  here  .  she  was  here  .  and  now  she's  gone  . 

his  finger  moves  ,  slow  ,  steady  .  PURPOSEFUL  over  to  bronte's  face  .  he  hovers  and  scrutinises  her  face  .  he  can't  quite  recognise  the  expression  .  he  doesn't  know  her  well  enough  .  ricardo  doesn't  know  this  TOWN  well  enough  (  and  he's  worked  hard  to  keep  it  that  way  )  .  but  one  thing  is  clear  :  somebody  sent  him  this  on  purpose  .  somebody  saw  bronte  and  daniela  .  somebody  knows  this  is  meaningful  .

ricardo  leans  back  against  his  chair  ,  letting  the  photos  fall  onto  his  desk  .  he  evens  out  his  breathing  .  in  .  out  .  in  .  out  . 

his  eyes  move  to  his  phone  ,  right  next  to  his  laptop  .  the  printer  has  stopped  whirring  .  SILENCE  ENCOMPASSES  HIM  . 

the  police  will  want  this  information  .

 ricardo  picks  up  his  phone  and  the  time  blinks  back  at  him  :  5.45AM  .

this  information  is  important  .

a  click  .  a  slide  .  a  realisation  burrowing  its  way  into  his  brain  :  he's  the  only  person  who  can  decide  what  to  do  with  it  .  he's  the  only  person  who  knows  . 

ricardo  gazes  at  his  laptop  ,  at  the  open  payroll  .  THE  SINKING  SHIP  THAT  IS  THE  REGISTER  .  but  .  .  .  not  for  long  .  not  with  this   .

ricardo  moves  with  speed  then  .  enough  momentum  that  kennedy  and  effie  would  stare  at  him  aghast  ,  probably  .  he's  not  the  writer  or  the  reporter  that  either  of  them  are  ,  but  he  doesn't  care  .  first  print  goes  out  before  6am  and  he  has  15  minutes  to  make  it  happen  right  now  or  his  brain  tells  him  it  never  will  .

ricardo  opens  up  the  latest  copy  of  the  register   .  he  erases  whatever  junk  was  on  the  first  page  (  probably  some  stupid  fall  recipe  for  pumpkins  or  whatever  )  .  ricardo's  brain  swirls  ,  moves  like  a  hurricane  .  he  thinks  of  daniela  .  he  thinks  of  the  envelope  .  he  thinks  of  bronte  and  the  photos  .  there  is  a  crashing  noise  inside  of  his  ears  that  he  hasn't  heard  in  years  .

ricardo  uses  his  phone  to  scan  in  the  images  and  upload  them  .  then  ,  rather  hopelessly  ,  he  types  : 

WHY  WOULD  BRONTE  LIE  ?

new  photos  show  bronte  dubois  and  daniela  estrada  in  an  emotional  argument  .  the  police  have  not  reported  this  for  reasons  unknown  .   how  much  do  the  police  of  redcreek  really  know  about  what  happens  in  their  town  ?  how  many  bodies  have  to  pile  up  or  go  missing  before  sheriff  demetrius  and  his  dimwit  officers  do  anything  ? more  importantly  .  why  has  bronte  never  mentioned  anything  about  her  heated  ‘discussion’  (argument)  with  daniela  before  now?  is  this  an  innocent  fight  or  something  more  sinister  ?  if  the  police  or  bronte  are  part  of  this  coverup  and  crime  ,  the  register  will  always  report  whats  happening  to  its  faithful  residents  . at  the  register  ,  we  believe  in  honesty,  transparency  and  finding  out  what  is  really  happening  in  your  town.  we  will  follow  any  tips  ,  advice  ,  guidance  or  opinions  you  have  .  reach  out  to  us  today  if  you  wish  to  provide  more  real  news  about  what's  happening  in  your  town  and  don't  trust  the  sheriff  and  his  officers  to  do  right  by  you. anonymous  tips  can  be  sent   directly  to  ceo@theregister.com.

[youraveragetorturedpoet]

Taylor Swift Albums As: Aesthetics/Random Things

DEBUT: green meadows, wildflowers, sundresses with boots, car radios, back country roads, laughing so hard you cry, pickup trucks, butterflies, innocence, freckles, having all the time in the world, fireflies, moonlit lakes, old blue jeans, front porches, sweet tea, hot lazy summer days

FEARLESS: gold sparkles, rainfall/storms, high school years, fairy tales, schoolyards, princesses and princes, old books of ancient tales, waiting, clocks, knights in armor, prom, phone calls, broken promises, smiles, fighting for a cause, mutual pining, school gyms, band practice

SPEAK NOW: any and all shades of purple, trepidation in love, storybooks, fancy ballgowns, big cities, liars, awkward meetings, sparklers, crowded rooms, flames to embers, poetic endings, fighting dragons, castles, old antiques, summertime, fireworks, roses, using your voice, farewell to childhood

RED: classic red lipstick, foggy mornings, notes on pictures, trains, planes, autumn, things changing in the blink of an eye, lockets, distance, mosaics, busy streets, vintage, weeping alone, yearning, longing, the cost of fame, scarves, lattes, sleek hair, echoes, starlight, cafes, hoping against hope

1989: retro, blinding lights, vanilla ice cream, seagulls, daisies, carefree days, the beach/the ocean, tabloids, paper planes, rumors, sky blue, car rides at twilight, waves/water, wild parties, sequins, marquees, running, finding yourself, reinvention, recklessness, prime of life

REP: haunted by living ghosts, sexy, buried alive, black & crimson & white, illusions, hard liquor, snakes, "burn the witch", the perfect crime, revenge, trickery, love is a drug, cautiously optimistic, the girl you knew is dead, sleeping a lot, burning bridges, darkest nights with a starry sky

LOVER: pastels, summer nights, dirty jokes, star signs, cozy home, American classic, cheers, full moons, sunsets, rooftops, drunk in a car, new chapters, religious themes, pleading, any and all shades of pink, playing games, accepting someone fully, denial, kitchens, memories, apologies, bars, sunsets

FOLKLORE: grays & muted blacks, beginnings, spring, summer, stars, bleeding from old wounds, trains, a midnight sea, bus stops, old film reels, funeral for old self, braids, lies, pretending, rumors, waiting by the phone, malls, wishes, drowning, jewels, old tales of those who came before, August and July

EVERMORE: bronze & shades of brown, snow, endings, reunions, fall and winter, moving on, old friends, a weekend tryst, true crime podcasts, healing from deep wounds, ivy and greenery, stuck on repeat, crescent moons, November and December, willow trees, bubbling champagne, following dreams, watching from the sidelines

MIDNIGHTS: sultry, dark wine, hurt but not dead, friendship bracelets, navy blue and mustard yellow, moonstones, honey, cats, vulnerability, auroras, impossible things, growing up, rain and snow, time portals, politics, meteors, shimmering, recognizing your worth, simplicity, chess, emotional infidelity, glitches

TORTURED POETS DEPARTMENT: quill pens, white, the scent of old books, denial & anger & bargaining & grief & acceptance, typewriters, exhaustion, profound sadness, mental institutions, the price of fame, refiners fire, childhood stories, nostalgia, ancient prophecies, hotel rooms, dolls, mental health issues, reading Aristotle just because, going in kicking and screaming but coming out alive

[busybeeblogs]

Go With Your Gut

Description: Written purely to fulfill my fantasy of Arthur getting the rare opportunity to sit down to a proper meal. Also I KNOW in my heart Marie wouldn’t have let him leave without pulling out the special granny move “tasty homemade food.”

Fandom: Malevolent (Podcast)

Characters: Arthur Lester, John Doe, Marie Pilon

CW: Hunger, wounds and scars mentioned, non-nsfw nudity, descriptions of a malnourished body, descriptions of neglecting one’s needs.

Canon compliant: Takes place a few hours after Chapter 39 and before Arthur leaves for Red Hook with Noel.

Word Count: 3.1k

“She’s staring you down, Arthur. She knows you’re outnumbered. It’s your rook and bishop versus her queen, rook and knight. If we can back her into a corner we’ll have a way to get her in checkmate, but to do that…”

“…I’d have to stop defending my King.” Arthur murmured aloud as John outlined the stakes.

“…You’re going to have to make a move at some point, Parker.”

Arthur sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’ll go with my gut on this one then.” Arthur moved his bishop to take Marie’s knight, and after a moment’s grief, she simply moved her rook across the board.

“Checkmate.”

“What?” Arthur scanned the board, as if he had any way of seeing what she did.

John verified the move for him: “Oh. Her rook and queen have you Arthur, I think she was waiting for you to take her knight so she could move her rook.”

“Goddamn it.”

“Language, Parker.” Marie scolded, glancing over at the grandfather clock as it began to chime. Arthur counted: one, two, three, four.

“Four o’ clock already? Gracious, I best get to making dinner.” Marie said with a start, hoisting herself out of her seat as Arthur began to gather up the chess pieces. “You said your evening plans aren’t until later on, yes?”

“Not until a quarter to nine.”

“Well, in that case I’ll make enough for the both of us.” She insisted.

Arthur blinked, closing the embellished box the chess pieces went in and setting it back on the shelf. “Marie, there’s really no need for that, I couldn’t possibly impose on a meal-“ Marie’s face suddenly turned quite serious, and she cut him off by jabbing a finger into his chest. She hit bone.

“Something about you has irked me since the moment you set foot in my home, Parker…” Arthur held his breath. “You look as if you’ve gone far too long without a proper meal. Now I called off my dinner plans, but dinner still must be had. And as my houseguest and companion for the evening, I expect you to eat with me. Am I clear?” Arthur nodded, and Marie took her hand back after repeatedly jabbing it into his sternum. Arthur let out his breath and rubbed the sore spot she left.

“You ought to listen to your gut when it comes to food, not chess dear. I could hear your tummy rumbling during our game.” She noted before shuffling off towards the kitchen. Arthur flushed.

“Oh. My apologies, I-“

“Parker.” Arthur’s head swiveled towards the sound of her voice. “Do wash up before coming to the table.”

“Yes, Marie.” Arthur sighed, and as soon as she disappeared into the kitchen, he sunk back into his chair.

“She’s right, you know.” John chimed in suddenly, causing Arthur to chuckle.

“About which part? Needing a meal or needing a wash?”

“Both, I’m sure.” Arthur rolled his eyes. “But I know you haven’t eaten in quite some time. Your stomach was making a lot of noise.”

As if responding to John’s mention of it, Arthur’s stomach grumbled, and he winced as he slid his hand from his chest to rest idly on his belly.

“I was hoping you two were ignoring it…” He murmured sourly, as if his being hungry had been a secret he didn’t want to get out. “But I suppose I’ve been ignoring it enough my own. God, when did I last eat?”

John thought for a moment. “I think it must have been in Poughkeepsie. You stopped at that pizzeria.”

“Yes! Oh, that pizza was divine.” His stomach rumbled again under his palm, the talk of food stirring his appetite. “And I was planning to eat dinner on the train to the city, but then, the Butcher…”

“…Yes.” John ended the thought, not allowing it to go further than that. “That was two days ago, Arthur.”

“Was it really?” Arthur suddenly sat upright from his slouch. “With everything that happened, it feels like it’s been a week.”

“A very long week.” John agreed. “You really should try to eat more often, Arthur. I know you’ve moved on to Larson and The Order but, you’re still weak from The Pits.”

Arthur shuddered and stood up suddenly, starting towards the stairs.

“I’ve been trying to-”

“Left.”

Arthur turned, finding the railing and using it to support himself as he climbed up the steps.

“Thank you. As I was saying,” Arthur was already winded. “I’ve been trying to eat more often, but it feels like whenever we’re in the thick of something like this, it’s always the last thing on my mind.” Arthur paused for a moment at the top landing, but didn’t dare let himself linger for more than a moment before he shoved off into the bathroom. “Perhaps that’s why I enjoyed our time traveling so much, albeit brief.”

“What do you mean?” John questioned as Arthur shut the bathroom door and ran the shower, undoing his tie as he waited for the water to heat up.

“Well… I suppose it was just the first time since all this began where I had the chance to, pay attention to my needs.” Arthur’s voice echoed pleasantly off the bathroom tiles. He began unbuttoning his shirt, and John’s hand sprung to help him. “I’ve been fighting and running for months, and as soon as I wasn’t entirely consumed with fear or rage or grief, so after we left Addison, really… I had the chance to feel everything else. How hungry I was, how tired I was, how badly I wanted a shower.” He chuckled, testing a hand in the water before slipping his undergarments off and stepping under the stream.

“It just felt nice to be able to take care of myself.” Arthur began scrubbing vigorously at his skin with a bar of soap. “And I hope after all this business with the order is over I can… Return to some sort of normal routine.”

Arthur sighed with relief as he stepped under the warm water to wash the soap off, positively relishing the feeling. “And call me spoiled all you want, but I truly miss having my own bath.”

As Arthur lowered his head to wet his hair under the water, John took the opportunity to survey his body. John was responsible for every one of the wounds he could see; every single scar, the fresh bullet wound in his shoulder, the pinky he was missing. He was well aware of just how much Arthur had been hurt in their time together: He’d been there with him for all of it. It almost seemed like he couldn’t go a day without a brush with death, and all of those encounters had left a mark, be it physical or mental. But John was often guilty of overlooking just how much everything else had been hurting Arthur this entire time. His lack of sleep, proper hygiene, and perhaps most glaringly upon looking at his body: His lack of a proper diet.

Arthur was thin. That in and of itself wan’t new, Arthur had been thin since John first laid eyes on him, hence why he was so hesitant to believe the man actually had the capability to physically intimidate someone like he had earlier today. And as much as Arthur didn’t like thinking about it, the effect of three months of starvation was just as evident on his body as his scars. He was pale, and his paper-thin skin was stretched taut over bones and a frankly pathetic layer of muscle. His knees were knobby, his arms were twiggy, his stomach was nearly caved in. Sometimes John wondered how Arthur even had the energy to get through the hurdles they’d overcome, because he was consistently running on so little.

And that was John’s fault too.

“I’m… Sorry, Arthur.” Arthur tilted his head as he rinsed the shampoo out of his hair.

“Sorry for what?” Arthur asked, closing his eyes as he stuck his face in the water.

“For…” John sighed. This was going to be harder than he thought. “Not properly taking your needs into account.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow as he reached out to shut the water off. “John, if you’re trying to apologize for how long it’s been since I’ve had a proper shower-“

“No, it’s not that, though you do complain about it a lot…” John rumbled. “I just… It’s hard for me to grasp, the constant attention you pay to things like hygiene and eating and sleeping-“

“Well it’s because I need to do all those things to survive, John.” Arthur said matter-of-factly, throwing a towel over his head and scrubbing his hair dry. “And it’s not exactly fun for me to, be without.”

“I know, I know.” John held his tongue. He wasn’t going to snap at Arthur right now. “I know it hurts you, but I don’t, know what you’re feeling exactly. I’ve never been hungry, or tired-“

“No need to brag about it.” Arthur grumbled as he wrapped the towel around his waist and stepped out of the shower to tame his hair.

“That’s not what I’m trying to say.” John huffed. “I know you bear the brunt of, the adversity we face. This is your body after all, and after millennia of never having to stop to sleep or eat or even consider the concept of bathing myself, I have trouble adjusting to, living life at a human pace. I know you have to stop to regain your energy but in that time, I have to stop too. And it can be… frustrating, because I still fail to conceptualize what being hungry or sleep-deprived is like, and therefore it is hard for me to grasp your need to stop for food or rest.” John was rambling. He had to get to his point before he inevitably dug himself some sort of hole. “What I’m trying to say is, I can see the toll it all takes on you. The starvation, the sleepless nights. You shouldn’t be as, deprived as you are, and it’s partly my fault. I know we’re in the middle of something far bigger than both of us right now, and we’re both focused on it. But I should still be making sure you’re, taking care of yourself. We shouldn’t both be neglecting what your body needs.”

Arthur blinked, and set his comb down on the edge of the sink. And, leaning forward, he looked into his own eyes in the mirror: Even though he was blind, it was as if he was looking directly at John, and John was staring right back at his face.

“When I was in college, I had a massive paper due in two days.” Not the response John had expected. “I hadn’t started it at all. It was a research paper, I needed sources, it had to be thirty pages: It was an absolute monster of an assignment and I had a weekend to do it. So, I buckled down. I locked myself in my room and only came out to make myself coffee. Getting up and making the coffee as opposed to the coffee itself is probably what kept me awake that entire time. Though I was still quite jittery…” Arthur chuckled. “Anyways, I stayed up the entire weekend to write that paper. I refused to eat, sleep or speak to anyone. My head stayed completely in the books. But I remember being so tired I kept falling asleep at my desk and smacking my head on the table, I could barely keep my eyes open for some of it and when I could, I just felt like I was in a haze… Every part of me just felt so, heavy. Everything was telling me to crawl into bed but I just didn’t let myself. I did find that being that hungry does have a way of keeping you awake, but only because it’s incredibly difficult to sleep on an empty stomach. When you’re that hungry, and doing work that requires all of your brainpower, it felt like whenever I stopped thinking about the task at hand I was thinking about food. And that’s to say nothing of how much my stomach was aching, or how dizzy I was whenever I stood up. Compared to what we’ve been through since it seems quite tame really… But, I do have a habit of pushing my needs to the wayside when something needs to get done. I get a sort of, tunnel vision, as you know.”

“I’m well aware.” John confirmed. “But, why did you tell me that story?”

“To help you better conceptualize what it’s like. All the human things you’re not used to.” Arthur paused. “And because you’re right. If I’m to get us both around we can’t both ignore my body. If it gives out, I think we’re just about screwed.”

John chuckled, relief flooding through him as he did so. Arthur wasn’t mad. “I’m glad you agree. I can’t say I envy your position… Did you finish your paper?”

“Yes, but as soon as I was done I ate the biggest breakfast I’d ever had and passed out for fourteen hours, completely missing the deadline to turn it in.”

John laughed, fully this time. It was loud and long and filled Arthur’s entire head. “Well, I think you’re long overdue for something to eat by now. Finish washing up for dinner.”

“Right, right.” Arthur said excitedly, scrambling to get his clothes back on. “I do promise it’s not all bad though. I understand your point of being frustrated with having to stop, hence my story.” Arthur slipped his belt on. John had helped him poke extra holes in it. “But, some of the best sleep is had after an especially tiring day; and they say hunger is the best seasoning. Taking care of oneself doesn’t just mean it needs to get done, it should also be enjoyed. Warm baths, proper meals, one cannot live on bread alone.”

“I understand. You really are spoiled.” John said pointedly. “Your tie is crooked.”

“Oh, shut up.” Arthur rolled his eyes and adjusted his tie. “You’re just jealous I’m about to enjoy a delicious meal and talk to someone other than you for awhile.”

“Perhaps.” John said flatly as Arthur exited the bathroom and made his way back down the steps. The smell of cooking had filled the entire downstairs, and in an instant, Arthur’s appetite roared to life like a rekindled fire. He was sure didn’t need to explain to John how hungry he was at the moment: He certainly heard his stomach grumbling.

“I hope you’re hungry, Parker.” Marie called from the dining room, where she was laying out table settings for the both of them. Arthur followed her voice into the room and nodded.

“You have no idea.” She didn’t really.

“Well then. I’ve made my roasted chicken, potatoes and greens. One of Albert’s favorites. Take a seat, it’ll be out of the oven in a moment.”

“You don’t need any help?” Arthur asked, polite as always.

“No no dear, I have it covered.” Marie waved him off as she disappeared back into the kitchen to retrieve the food.

“Sit down.” John demanded. “Take it easy while you can, Arthur.”

“Well now, you adapt quickly.” Arthur sat.

“We have a big night ahead. You deserve all the rest you can get.”

“If you insist. Y’know, I think I can get used to this kind of treatment…” Arthur snickered as he folded his napkin in his lap.

“Don’t push it.”

“Here we are.” Marie proclaimed as she set the serving dish in the center of the table. Arthur wished he could see it, because it certainly smelled good. John got the hint.

“Arthur, she’s brought out a heap of well-seasoned red potatoes mixed with roasted chicken and greens.” John then blanked, unsure of how to describe the food further than what it was. He didn’t know what it tasted like, or what the texture was like.

But his brief description seemed to be enough to stir Arthur into immediately reaching for the serving spoon as soon as Marie was sat down. She got to it before he did, and picked it up to whack his hand away.

“Ow!”

“We say grace in this household, Parker.”

“Oh… My apologies.” John’s hand rubbed Arthur’s, but quickly folded together and came to rest on the table as Marie bowed her head.

“Bless us oh Lord, for health and food, for love and friends, for everything thy goodness sends. Amen.”

“Amen.” Arthur muttered after a short pause, loosely making the sign of the cross and letting Marie take her serving first. He let John scoop a heaping serving onto his plate, and he dug in as soon as his fork was in his hand.

Arthur moaned around his first bite, going in for a second before he was even through chewing the first. Once he was a couple bites in and had the good sense to breathe, John spoke up.

“Describe it to me.”

“What?” Arthur whispered, taking another bite.

“Describe how it tastes. How it smells. I’m curious, you have two senses that I have no experience with, and I’d like to know how one goes about describing food.”

“But, I- Marie…”

“Yes?” Marie questioned from across the table, hearing her name. Arthur sighed.

“Marie.” He addressed her clearly, setting his fork down. “This food is… Outstanding. The chicken is tender and chewy, the potatoes are crispy and tasty on the outside, and soft on the inside… The greens are seasoned perfectly. All of it is, the garlic and herbs bring everything together wonderfully. I knew I was in for a treat as soon as I came downstairs and smelled this, savory medley…” Both John and Marie were listening to Arthur closely. His voice was quiet, sounding almost on the verge of breaking. Arthur managed to keep it steady. “This is truly one of the best meals I’ve had in a long time. Thank you so much, for having me.”

There was silence for a moment. Arthur heard Marie set her own fork down.

“She’s smiling, Arthur.”

“It’s a pleasure to be able to cook for someone who enjoys it so much.” Arthur smiled back. “I’ve found that good food can heal most woes, especially when paired with good company. So thank you Parker.”

“No really, thank you Marie, you have no idea how much I-“

“Clear your plate, Parker.” She interrupted before he could get carried away.

“Right.” He responded, looking back down and diving back into his food.

And for the first time, both Arthur and John enjoyed a good meal.