#anyway look out for another video that I'm working on for pride month

[personinthepalace]

The Wedding That Goes Wrong

happy 2nd anniversary to vanessa and dennis!

[your-divine-ribs]

Good Touch

Words: 4.6k

A very stressed out Van comes into your salon for a massage so you help him to relax in the best possible way… I wrote this just after the Cardiff 2022 gig got cancelled 😭 // Just pure self-indulgent smut because I fancy this man so bad I have no other excuse lol sorry 😂

Imagines Masterlist Main Masterlist

"I'm so glad we're nearly done for the day, I can't wait to get home. Thank god I've not got any more clients."

Your colleague and salon receptionist Naomi looks up as you push through the door after heading back from a much needed coffee break. A small frown creases her forehead.

"Actually Y/N, you do have another client. He was a late booker from this morning. Haven't you seen it in the diary?"

"No..." Your heart sinks as she slides the appointment book towards you across the counter, squinting at Naomi's practically indecipherable scrawl. "Mr... what? Mr McCarr? McCaw? Don't recognise the name. He's not a regular then..."

Great, you sigh to yourself. A brand new client last thing on a Friday. These days your diary is full of satisfied repeat bookers and you've got to know all of them well during your time at the salon. It's almost like you can forget you're working at times, you just switch on the relaxing music and chat to them whilst you massage away their tension knots and usually their worries too. It's often soothing even for you, but this week has been long and exhausting and the thought of making polite conversation with a total stranger for a whole session when you're ready to go home is totally draining.

Well... let's just hope he's one of the quiet ones who just wants to lie there and zone out.

"It's actually McCann... excuse my terrible writing!" Naomi laughs. "But yeah he's new. He came in grumbling about his manager ordering him to come for a session. He's had some shit go down at work or something... I don't know. He was pretty vague, mumbling like he really didn't wanna be here."

You look quickly towards the treatment room door which is thankfully shut. "He's already here?"

"Uh-huh," Naomi nods, scrunching up her face. "He looks like shit... really stressed out... like maybe he's not slept for a month." She grins mischievously. "Shame really as I reckon he'd be proper fit normally!"

"Naomi!" You exclaim in a hushed whisper, stepping over in alarm. "For Christ's sake keep your voice down!"

Naomi just shrugs, unfazed, tapping her manicured fingernails on the counter. "He won't hear, the door's shut. Chill out! Anyway, enjoy... he's booked in for a full body massage!"

Her eyebrows shoot up suggestively at the final few words, but you don't partake in her smutty behaviour. You've always prided yourself on your professionalism. You'll just go in and do your job... work your magic... in forty-five minutes you'll have another satisfied customer.

You take a deep breath and open the door...

You should have realised. You should have put two and two together, but why would you? Okay... McCann isn't exactly a common name, but the thought of having a real-life, living, breathing, famous rockstar casually dropping into your salon is the last thing you'd expect on a Friday afternoon.

But sure enough there he is, larger than life and a hundred times more handsome than his videos on YouTube, perched on the edge of the treatment bed wearing nothing but a pair of tight-fitting black boxers. Very tight-fitting actually, you note, quickly wrenching your eyes upwards to meet his sparkling blue gaze and his awkward looking slightly crooked smile.

"Alright love?" He greets you in that familiar tone that you've grown to love by watching every interview of his that you've scoured the internet for.

You're flustered even though you tell yourself that you shouldn't be. In your line of work you deal with clients in various states of undress all day, every day. It's just that they're not normally Van McCann, singer of your favourite band. The very same band who've just brutally broken your heart and put a serious dint in your finances by pulling out of a stadium gig you'd been set to attend only weeks away. You'd been devastated and frustrated, not to mention fuming about the band's lack of communication with their loyal and dedicated fanbase, but all of a sudden those feelings of resentment take a backseat to your utter shock at having this most elusive of your idols sitting there before you, eyes glowing with a subtle kind of amusement at your stunned expression.

"Oh... errr sorry... wasn't I supposed to get my kit off yet?"

"Yes... yes... of course!" You blurt, checking yourself when you realise you sound overly eager, making out you're clearing your throat so you can take a moment to compose yourself, forcing your inner fangirl back into hiding. "I mean, sure. I can't massage you fully dressed now, can I?"

Van nods but his smile slips as you step forward to retrieve a towel off the bale on the wall, and now you're a little closer you can see what Naomi was talking about. The skin under his eyes looks dark-tinged and puffy, his skin sallow under the lighting. He sighs under his breath as he gets to his feet. "Might as well get this over and done with then."

His comment makes you bristle slightly but you recall Naomi's earlier comment and you take the chance to explore his lack of enthusiasm. "Oh, my colleague mentioned something about your manager making you come? You don't sound too thrilled about it. Most people love coming for a treatment. It's therapeutic you know."

"Yeah well... I don't need therapy," he says quickly, his voice tight and defensive. You've obviously hit a nerve. You hadn't realised that you'd stepped back, recoiling, but Van notices. He looks immediately embarrassed, offering an apologetic smile, pushing a hand through his hair as he talks.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to snap... it's just... errr... it's just I've really been going through it at the moment. Things have been... difficult... really difficult." His eyes dart around the room before they meet yours again. "You could say pretty much everything I touch is falling apart these days."

You're full of intrigue, literally bursting with curiosity to find out the reason behind the band's demise, but he's made no reference to show that he  knows that you're aware of who he is. In fact you think he probably suspects you don't and he's relieved about that. Despite your desperation to find out the band's fate you really can't probe him. You don't want to scare him off, but you also don't want to treat an unwilling client. It just doesn't feel right.

"Look... I'm really sorry to hear that, but I probably shouldn't treat you if you don't want to be here..."

Van cuts you off, looking contrite. "It's not that I don't want to be here, really. Please don't take offence. It's just that I don't know how a bloody massage is supposed to miraculously cure all of my problems, that's all."

He chuckles and rolls his eyes, and you smile back, holding out the towel to him which he accepts.

"I'm sure it won't... but it will relax you, I can promise you that. You can just lie back and close your eyes and check out of real life for a little while. C'mon, why don't you just try it? You might like it. Let me take care of you for a bit."

Oh... you hadn't meant it to come out quite like that, so intimate-sounding. You feel your cheeks begin to warm as his grin widens.

"Well, if ya put it like that how can I resist? I'm sure I'll be in very capable hands! Now... how do you want me... on the bed?"

His last line's said innocently enough but there's an underlying cheekiness simmering just below that gorgeous smile that makes your belly flip. You bite back the smirk that's threatening to surface along with a very inappropriate smutty comment, trying to restore the composed and professional demeanour that you usually display with your clients.

"Yeah, just lie down right here." You look down quickly to hide your flushed cheeks, patting the soft sheet draped over the bed. "If you start off lying on your front then I can do your back, and then you can turn over." You pause, mentally bracing yourself before you say the next line, but ending up blurting it out in a tumble of rushed words. "You can... umm... take everything off if you like... you don't have to but some clients prefer it that way. It's completely up to you though. You can use the towel to cover yourself if you do."

Fuck... your cheeks are on fire now, your pulse starting to race. The room suddenly feels like a furnace as you watch Van quickly hook his fingers under the elastic waistband of his boxers without hesitation, starting to inch them down his slim hips.

"Oh... I'll step out and give you some privacy!" You exclaim, hurriedly whirling around to avert your eyes at the realisation that he means to completely strip off right there and then in front of you.

"Not a problem," comes his relaxed voice from behind you. "I'm not shy."

A giggle of pure embarrassment bubbles up inside and you bite down on your lip to stem it, trying to control your pounding heart. You need to pull yourself together and fast. In a moment you've got to turn around and deliver a relaxing and professional massage but all you can think of is getting your hands on his naked body for all the improper reasons.

"Just let me know when you're ready!" You say brightly, stepping forward to peruse the massage oils, deciding on a blend of patchouli and sandalwood. You tap the small speaker on the shelf and a wave of soft, soothing meditative music fills the small room. Scented candles are already lit to give the room a calming ambience.

"Ready... I'm all yours!" You hear him call back.

Yes... yes you are, you smile to yourself as you move over to dim the lights before finally turning around.

He's laid out on the bed on his front as instructed and for the first time you can get a good look at him uninhibited. His wiry body is lean but taut, his skin pale save for the slight flush where he's obviously caught the sun on the tops of his arms and around his neck. The tiny towel that you gave him is draped temptingly over his pert little ass and you curse yourself for not giving him an even smaller one.

"How are you feeling? Are you comfortable enough?" You ask, tipping some of the oil into the palm of your hand and warming it between your fingers, coating them in the fragrant liquid.

"Uh-huh I'm good... yeah I'm all good," he replies, shifting slightly where he lays and bringing his arms up to fold across the end of the table. He lays his head sideways against his crossed arms. You have a clear view of his face from here and you can see that his eyes are shut. "I've never had a massage before... I don't really know what to expect."

"Just relax," you tell him. "That's all you need to do. Just leave the rest to me."

You step forward until you're inches away from the table, looking down on him. You can hardly believe that this man who's dwelled in your fantasies up until this moment is lying here in front of you, naked as the day he was born, completely at your mercy. Tingles of excitement are sparking through you and again you have to take a moment to compose yourself, surreptitiously shaking out the tension from your fingers which are trembling slightly.

You start by placing your palms on either side of his spine just below his neck, trailing your hands down to his lower back, then up again, this time moving in circles, firmly smoothing his flesh as you go. He lets out a small sigh and you feel him sink down further into the bed.

"That feels nice already," he murmurs. "Think maybe I am gonna enjoy this after all."

Not as much as I'm going to enjoy it, you muse to yourself, smiling as your fingers nudge the towel aside to smooth over the top of the contours of his ass, thumbs pressing into the small of his back.

"I'm only just getting started," you say. "I can feel a lot of tension in your muscles, so I'm going to have to be thorough."

His only reply is a soft "mmmm" which sounds far more sensual to your ears than it probably should. Your mind wanders, imagining him flipping over and pulling you down on top of him, hitching up your dress whilst you straddle him and grind shamelessly against him.

You try to clear your mind, moving upwards again and using your fingers to caress the muscles across the tops of his shoulders, working out the knots of tension as you go. His skin is soft and smooth, more so than you would have imagined, and the way your oil-soaked hands glide across his flesh is arousing you beyond belief.  His body glistens in the candlelight. Maybe this was a bad idea. You can feel your professionalism ebbing away as you bring your hands down to focus on his slender waist, not making a move to replace the towel when it slips to the side, exposing his bum.

Van doesn't seem to notice or maybe he does but he just doesn't care. He has a blissed-out expression on his face, his eyes screwed shut and his lips slightly parted, a small crease adorning his brow as he lets out a sound that's halfway between a whimper and a sigh.

"You have no idea how good that feels... really. You're some kind of goddess, I'm sure of it."

His words fan the flames that are already simmering inside of you and you can feel the ache grow between your thighs as you shift your position to move down to his legs.

"Oh, I don't know about that," you reply, laughing softly. "My clients always seem to go away happy though."

"I don't doubt it.... mmmm... god that's so good... ohhh..."

There he goes again. Christ... those little moans that he's making are not helping matters. If he's this expressive just from a basic massage how would he react if you showed him your real talents? You push the thought away, reaching for more oil before you begin on his legs, wrapping your fingers around his calves as you massage your way up, spreading your hands wide as they slide up his thighs.

"F... uck," he groans, low and drawn out and you see him push his pelvis into the bed as your fingers trail dangerously close to the sensitive area between his parted thighs. Now you're certain that you're not the only one getting turned on, but it's hardly surprising, with each stroke you're pushing the boundaries of decency, edging closer and closer to forbidden territory. His arms move from their relaxed position so he can grip the edges of the bed and you smile to yourself as you feel his body stiffen.

There are strict rules of conduct for masseuses in your salon and you're breaking every single one. If your manager could see you now you'd be facing a disciplinary at the very least, or at worst you'd be fired. That doesn't stop you though, your fingers kneading teasingly at a spot that makes him visibly shiver until you feel the muscles in his thighs clench up tight under your touch.

"Are you still feeling okay?" You ask, finally moving your hands away, wiping the excess oil on the towel before you gently drape it back over his bum.

"Yeah... yeah I'm all good," he answers, but his choked up voice would suggest otherwise. Maybe you're going too far. Your salon prides itself on offering the most soothing treatments, leaving clients feeling calm and relaxed, not wound up tight like a spring, gripping the treatment bed like their lives depend on it.

"Are you sure? I know my massages can be pretty... intense."

He lets out a throaty chuckle. "Intense? That's one way to describe it! Think maybe I'm... errr... enjoying it a little too much."

You can't help the grin which stretches wide on your lips at his words which are like music to your ears, a green light to continue in your endeavours to make him feel good. You've never really considered your ability to make a person's body react to your whim a talent before, more like a gift. So what's wrong with bestowing a gift of your own on someone else every once in a while? He so obviously needs it.

"It's time to turn over now," you tell him, grasping the edge of the towel to lift it, allowing it to screen him as he moves.

"Al... already?" He stutters, uncertainty in his voice as he shifts. "I... errr... umm... okay then."

He rolls on to his side and you train your eyes on the far wall as he does to allow him his privacy, only looking back down to replace the towel when he's settled on to his back.

Oh...

All of a sudden the source of his hesitancy is abundantly clear as you see the the towel tenting slightly over his cock. You have to fight hard to suppress the self-satisfied smirk you can feel trying to surface, quickly looking away, your eyes meeting Van's in an awkward moment of understanding.

He smiles sheepishly, his cheeks tinged an adorable shade of rosy pink and you fleetingly consider acknowledging the situation you've both found yourselves in, but you decide against it, opting to just carry on instead.

You can feel his eyes on you as you turn to reach for more oil then you step to the head of the bed, looking down on him. He blinks up at you, stunning pale greeny-blue eyes framed with thick, long lashes. You're certain you're not imagining the wordless exchange that you can feel taking place, a tender kind of lustfulness that his imploring expression conveys. He wants this. You know he does.

You place your hands on either side of his neck, letting them trail down to his collar bones and then outwards across his chest before drawing them back and repeating the movements over and over. You can feel his heartbeat thundering under your fingertips at each pass, his chest rising and falling deeply.

"You okay?" You check in on him and he nods, eyes swirling with intensity.

"Uh-huh..." he breathes out, then he clears his throat. "You're pretty incredible at this, you know that?"

You smile, soaking in the praise, wondering if he thinks every client of yours gets this extra special attention that he's receiving, wondering if he cares?

"It's working then, is it?" You grin.

Van laughs and you can feel it vibrate through his chest under your palms. "Put it this way, I'm not exactly thinking about my problems right now!"

"Good... that's good... that's the aim."

You step back around to the side of the bed so you can reach further, moving your hands down over his abdomen, letting your fingers slip under the edge of the towel and trail down the V of his hips. He lets out a shaky exhale and you glance up to see his eyes fluttering shut, his mouth slightly agape. He looks divine lying there, his oiled skin shimmering in the flicker of the dim candlelight, the temptation to pull away the towel so strong that you find your fingers twitching with longing. That's just a step too far though. Teasing is one thing but giving one of your clients a sneaky hand-job is another entirely. Besides, just because he's turned on it doesn't mean he's giving you consent to relieve his tensions in such a sensual way. He'd definitely have to ask... or maybe even beg...

Fuck... you wonder what that would sound like falling from those full pink lips of his, the same lips that are currently being pulled in between his teeth to stifle a groan. You coax it from him anyway as your hands move down to grip his thighs, pushing them slightly apart as you knead at the sensitive flesh. The towel rises up even further in response and now you know you've really crossed the line. Van's gripping the edges of the bed tightly, his breathing coming heavy and ragged. His hips press upwards as if to chase your touch as your fingers wrap around the top of his thigh under the towel, the backs of them just barely grazing his balls as you move away.

"I think we'd better finish there for today," you say hurriedly, watching carefully for his reaction, pleased when his eyes flick open with a look of dismay. "That's if you've... umm... had enough?"

He pauses for a moment, his brow furrowed in a hopeful kind of eagerness. "You mean there's more... if I want it?"

"Yes," you say with no absolutely hesitance, boldly meeting his needy gaze, gauging his reaction whilst you try to formulate your next words in your head. "I mean I think we both know that there's more than one way to relax somebody... a more unconventional way to relieve that obvious tension if you like."

You try not to think of Naomi innocently sitting outside at the reception desk filing her nails whilst you're in here propositioning a client in the most sordid kind of way. Despite her earlier teasing you just know that she'd be horrified by your actions. You start to fret that maybe you've made a mistake, but then Van speaks, and your worries melt away in an instant.

"I want it... I really want it... please."

In a deft motion he tugs at the towel and it falls away on to the bed, exposing him completely. As expected he's gloriously hard, his cock just as delectable as the rest of him, thick and rigid with a flushed tip, just begging for your attention. You waste no time in wrapping your fingers hungrily around his girth, swiping your thumb over the sensitive head.

"Shit," he mutters. "I can't believe this is happening."

He hoists his body upwards, propping himself on his elbows, craning his neck to watch as you begin to caress him, taking your time, sliding your oil-slicked fingers slowly and deliberately up and down his length.

"Tell me if you want me to stop," you murmur, the shock and excitement of what you're doing hitting you as he lets out a throaty groan and you worry that Naomi might hear.

"No... don't stop," he gasps breathlessly. "Please don't ever stop. It's so good... mmm."

His eyes flick between yours and his cock, dark and heavy-lidded, strands of his hair fallen forward on to his face which is creased in pleasure. You don't think you've ever witnessed a sexier sight, the obvious enjoyment etched on his face, his hips pistoning upwards needily as he fucks himself into your hand.

You pick up your pace, gripping him firmly, flicking your wrist over the head at each stroke, loving the way he writhes under your touch. His jagged panted breaths mingling with his choked groans and the obscenely wet sounds of your slick hand moving over his length seem to bounce off the walls of the small room making everything seem more intense.

"Keep going," he groans pleadingly. "Please... just like that... ahh fuck."

You're torn between wanting to stretch this out and wanting to drive him to his peak, the sinful noises he's making travelling down to your own core, soaking your panties through. You move to cup his balls with your free hand, gently massaging them, satisfied when he grits his teeth and lets out a particularly primal sounding groan.

"I can't hold on... I'm gonna come... fuck, fuck... FU-CK..." he hisses, thrusting into your hand, his whole body spasming. You watch him, transfixed as his jaw falls slack and his eyes glaze over as the swells of his climax peak and he comes, hard, milky splatters of cum painting his belly and spilling out over your knuckles.

You tug him a few more times until you've milked every last drop out of his orgasm and he's shuddering under your touch, his head hanging forward, muttering incoherently under his breath.

You release your grip on him, reaching for the towel and perching on the side of the bed, waiting for his reaction as you clean off your fingers, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Holy fucking shit," he finally murmurs, raising his head, his blue eyes meeting yours, full of wonder and shock and an awe-like reverence that makes your breath catch in your throat. "I know I'm brand new to this whole massage thing but I'm guessing that's not how it usually goes down?"

He accepts the towel from your outstretched hand as you offer him an awkward smile, the enormity of what you've just done hitting you now. "I can promise you I've never done that before. I... I don't know what came over me... sorry."

"Sorry?" He echoes quickly, his eyes bulging in disbelief. "Please don't apologise! That was..." he pauses, shaking his head, searching for the right words. "That was probably one of the hottest experiences of my life! Really... I mean it!"

A deep scarlet flush washes over you. "I hardly think so..."

"Trust me, it was," he cuts in, his eyes bright, a kind of youthful sparkle in them that looks good on him. "My only regret is I didn't even ask you your name... you know... before..."

He stops, chucking warmly, dabbing at the sticky mess on his belly before he drapes the towel over his lap and swings his legs around so he's sitting next to you on the bed.

"It's Y/N," you say, quietly.

"Van," he offers, holding out a hand to you in a greeting gesture, laughing when you accept it. Then you're laughing too at the absurdity of the belated formalities now when you've already shared an intimate moment together.

"Note to self," he grins up at you as you break away and get to your feet. "Make sure you're on first-name terms with a girl before you accept her offer of a hand-job!"

"Oh my god!" You giggle, cheeks glowing, huge grin splitting your face in two as you raise up a hand to your face, embarrassment flooding you now.

"I... errr... suppose I'd... errr... better give you some privacy now... you know, to get dressed." You start to back away, glancing down as you start to turn, feeling awkward now the heat of the moment has dissipated and it's painfully obvious the two of you are nothing more than strangers thrown together under a happy coincidence.

"Hold up... wait... Y/N..."

Van's voice comes urgently, stopping you in your tracks. You spin around, coming to face him, looking at him expectantly, surprised to see an awkward hesitance about him. He's still naked save for the small towel he's holding which is barely covering his modesty and you battle with yourself to keep a straight face.

"On my way in I saw this little coffee shop just across the road. I don't suppose you'd like to go and grab a drink with me would ya... if ya not busy that is? I figured you probably got off work soon?"

His voice rises up hopefully and your stomach flips with excitement but you try not to let it show, keeping your inner fangirl in check who's bursting to start doing a celebration dance at this dazzling turn of events.

"Yeah," you nod, returning Van's warm grin with one of your own. "Yeah... I'd really like that."

[serendertothesquad]

Seren's Studies: The Odd Squad UK Gadget-Making Competition Video

I was originally going to make this into a longer post where I discuss Odd Squad UK more in-depth, but to keep things simple (and to avoid frying my brain), I'm going to keep this and another post separated. They will be linked, though, so keep an eye out for an edit and a reblog in the coming months.

We got a first taste of OSUK a little over a week ago, and with it came quite a few things to dissect. Because Season 2 can't be the only season that gets something UK-exclusive that never made its way to the States and never will. Curl up, try to cry, cry anyway.

Join me below the break as I make a Thanksgiving feast out of mere crumbs. Or try to, anyway.

Those of you who have been in the loop might have seen the BTS photos of the UK Headquarters on Instagram. This is what I can safely assume is the bullpen, going by the seal, the desk on the right with some kind of a green form, and...well I mean fuckin' look at it.

As you can see, it's an incredibly stark difference from the Headquarters seen in the past three seasons, though this one looks similar to S1 and S2's, for, y'know, obvious reasons. It actually looks more like something you'd see in some kind of a government building, like your local city hall or the DMV, than anything else.

There's not even any sliding doors either! Which is...well, I mean I watched Season 3, this surprises me next to none.

Take it all in...take it in...

...You took it in? Goood, goooooood. Moving on.

"NOT SO ANDROGYNOUS NOW IS SHE. HAPPY PRIDE MONTH, BITCHES."

-- The CBBC, probably, maybe

Anyway, this is our first look at a living, moving, breathing Captain Oooooooooooooh whoa what the FUCK is at the end of her ropes? Are...are those knitting needles? Stabby-stabs?

I'm...what even are those?

Okay, okay, someone else can answer that. I'm moreso interested in the smartwatch she's wearing, because Oprah and other Directors in the past haven't worn smartwatches. That, combined with how nautical she looks, donning upper clothing usually reserved for male Directors, and having a unique title, makes her have a rather unique appearance.

"Orwell, I am giving a speech. What do you want."

"Someone stole your copy of Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban."

"Damn it!"

Jokes aside, we now get to the second newly-debuted living breathing moving character of this very short video: Orwell, a Security agent who's about as cheerful as someone whose entire family got run over by Cybertrucks. I don't know if I ever made this joke in any public form before, but in promotional images, he reminds me of Fin Tutuola and...well, with this video, the comparison just launched itself outta my head. Just a lil'. Not a whole lot. Only a lil'.

Yeeeeeah...I'm starting to see how this is poorly edited. Captain O's and Orwell's voices coming through two different audio channels instead of the same one, no BGM in the beginning...this weird-ass cut to Ozzie...I mean I don't expect high quality, but come now. For one of the first promotional things for Odd Squad UK, you'd think they'd do better.

...

This is just a regular-ass home, isn't it. Lookit that Backrooms-esque kitchen there. Lookit the hypnosis wheel ta- no seriously, whose home is this, and if it's Ozzie's, why? And if it's Headquarters...again, why?

I do appreciate the tea set, though. The tea set is to the UK what sharing actors is to Canada. Don't do it, don't get tax credits.

"The Mondays? In my Christian Headquarters?! Inconceivable! Blasphemous!"

No but seriously, this is the most unserious shit I have ever seen from Odd Squad as a franchise, and that is genuinely saying something. The Mondays isn't an odd disease. It's not an odd illness that will grant you extra limbs or make your blood turn blue. It's what everybody who has ever worked a paid job a single day in their life goes through.

*takes off the glasses* You're not boostin' my confidence, BBC.

"It doesn't matter what we seem to do. We can't put a smile on his face."

I'M AN ADUUUUUUUUULT!!!

WELCOME TO THE REAL WORLD, JACKASS!!

(...Who the hell said McDonald's?)

*slaps on helmet*

Mmmmmmmmmhm. Strap in, human beings. This is where the real shit gets even realer.

So as you can see, Ozzie isn't in his Investigation agent suit here. Promotional material has shown that he's in that suit pretty much all the time, and given how Orli doesn't appear in this video, it's safe to say that we can plop it into the pre-series era.

This specific department had people in the fandom theorizing for the longest time about what it was. Was it a new look for the Creature department? An updated piece of clothing from the Mobile Unit department? A new department enti- oh shit, wait, that's actually it, isn't it.

Yeah, so if you look at the wings on the hexagon symbol there, it's clear to see that this is some kind of a flight department. I'm just going to quote part of the official show synopsis here, so you folks can get a view of what I'm trying to get at:

Not to worry, brand-new agents Orli and Ozzie are on the case. Their job is to solve the toughest and oddest cases now wreaking havoc across the land, sea, and sky (and even that hard-to-reach area behind the couch cushions).

I might as well spit out a theory (one of few, believe you me) that have been spinning in my mind like a nuked rotisserie chicken clinging to life ever since Odd Squad UK was officially announced as a project.

*deep breath*

Okay. So. You guys know Captain O. Loves nautical things. Looks the part. Has assistants who look like sailors.

What if -- and hear me out for a moment -- what if she has a boat? One that can travel across the sea and across the sky?

For land, that's what the tubes are for. That's a nonissue. But for missions that involve going out onto open water or going high into the sky...that's what the boat is for. And if you have a boat that goes up into the sky, you're gonna need some agents who deal in flight matters.

Headcanon accepted. If you hear screaming at any point this fall, assume it's me.

*long exhale*

See, with Odd Squad, child actors can be hit-or-miss. Some, like Dalila Bela and Millie Davis, knock their roles right outta the park, sometimes even going beyond their abilities and really getting into character (for those two specifically, Olive and Oprah are relatable to their personalities as actors, so it makes things easier). Some are okay -- they're neither good nor bad. And some just don't have the range.

The kid playing Orwell here...is on the latter end.

I get it. It's a video out of a twelve "testing the waters for another season or series" episodes of a UK-based spinoff series in a franchise that keeps going nose-down. I shouldn't go in expecting top-notch quality. I'm setting the bar low, as are a host of other people. And I have absolutely no disrespect against the kid who plays Orwell, because for God sakes, I have standards. But twelve episodes of stiff, the-script-might-as-well-be-in-the-damn-hands-when-filming acting like this is gonna be really hard to stomach, especially since Orwell is a main character.

Getting back to gooder things: this "yeeeeeeah, obviously" bit made me laugh harder than it should've. There is no customer service persona for Orwell here. Concept is foreign to him.

Onom is, unfortunately, not in this episode. However, I do appreciate that the Lab is just as eccentric as he is. Not even Precinct 13579's Lab was this crazy!

(And if you're wondering who Onom is: he's the brother of the Pokemon Snom.)

(...No, I'm kidding. He's our Science man for this series. The gods are returning to their roots.)

this video is about viewers making a gadget

orwell grabs a gadget for absolutely no reason other than by proxy

If this is giving a hint to contest entrants, they sure are being vague as hell about it.

If this is not giving a hint to contest entrants, Orwell's taking the gadget like it's the thing that made Onom go vamoosh in the first place.

...

Hold up-

Wake up? Drank.

Feel sad? Drank.

Go to work? Drank.

Get paid jack shit? Drank.

Take a shower? Drank (with the tea bag you showered yourself with).

Last season, they didn't commit enough to a whole entire newspaper page and had to use Lorem ipsum text.

This series, they have someone write words on a paper that are actually read.

I don't know, guys, that says a hell of a lot of things quality-wise.

I see Onom's leaning real damn hard into the Oona archetype, because you can bet your damn asses she would pull this shit on Olympia, Otis, and Oprah with absolutely no remorse.

...No, let me correct myself: she has pulled this shit on them with absolutely no remorse. And fuck it, she'll do it again.

They were probably expecting people to react like Captain O here.

In reality, my body folded in on itself so hard the local urgent care place became a 24/7 business.

...I'm starting to realize what that one person said about OSUK making references to past seasons/series now. I laughed it off. I said "in 12 episodes, that'll never happen."

But it did.

And it will haunt me so.

The Emergency Un-Monday Protocol is the Odd Squad version of workplaces telling you "we're like a family".

It's an unneeded red flag that fucks people over royally.

0/10, sweet summer child didn't even try.

Let's be honest here: if Ozzie encapsulates the reaction you should have when listening to this left-audio-channel-only, bobbin-n-weavin', lip-syncing-does-not-exist bit, then that's...not really a good sign.

Oooohoho no. I'm not the gal to turn to, kiddos. Not when I get the Mondays every goddamn day of the week.

...You're pointing at a person who feels crushing depression every time she walks into a Target, what are you doing-

...God damn it, this eyebrow-raising makes me cackle. It's so unexpected.

Honestly, I might be asking too much of a series that has the episode span of 70% of anime, but I want more fourth-wall-breaking moments like this. Keep the meta alive!

"But please, no Slime-inators. I just washed my hair."

Ozzie's been to one too many Nickelodeon Kids' Choice Awards for his liking.

That, or he's taking after Otis and his "regular hair".

AH!! AAAAAAAAAHH!! YOU CAN SEE ALEXANDER CRACK A SMILE THERE!! I SAW IT!! I GOT MY GLASSES ON SUCKERS, I CAN SEE THAT SHIT.

Terrible audio balancing aside...and the terrible timing of the logo bouncing...

...Oh wow, that's the other logo. The secondary one. Kinda cool!

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

So overall, this was...a rather disappointing first taste. Whether this sets the standard for the series remains to be seen, but I'm not all too hopeful. Maybe the September results video will see things improve.

That being said, the characters are at least pretty engaging thus far. I'll need to see them in action a little more to make any final decisions, though.

Like I said in the beginning, I'll be putting out a Seren's Study about OSUK when we get more info on it. I'm aiming for August, but it might come out in September when the results video does. We'll see.

For now, thanks for reading. If you want to see the video for yourself, it's here:

[gaffney]

USER GAFFNEY MAY WE GET HALLWAY / 9-LINE HCS FOR PRIDE MONTHS? doesn’t even have to be headcanons, just anything you want to say about them.

talking about them is like my favorite hobby so i love this ask. i'm gonna start with hallway and then write up another for 9line later

alright so you know how there’s this stereotypical family dynamic on tv that’s always like kids: mom can we go get ice cream mom: no you’ll ruin your appetite kids: dad, mom said we can go get ice cream dad (without bothering to double check): ok let’s go get ice cream mom (holding dinner): literally what the fuck

that’s jesse & charlie with the ducks. they’re team dads where the kids only listen to charlie when jesse’s not there lmaooo. at least until that part in d3 where charlie has a meltdown and the ducks are like wtf and file for emancipation…

BUT fulton & julie are always team charlie. guy & portman are always team jesse. russ, kenny & connie switch sides based on who knows how to bribe them better. averman plays both sides bc he's always trying to start something. adam tells charlie “of course i’m on your side” and then turns around and tells jesse the exact same thing while charlie’s still standing there going wtf. dwayne actually takes both sides which never makes any sense

jesse’s never called charlie spazway because he thinks it’s a stupid nickname (and being the king of GOOD nicknames, he’s totally right) and also because he’s been picking charlie’s butt back up whenever he trips since kindergarten so he knows that it bothers charlie more than he lets on. also, i wanna point out how in the novelization jesse never doubts charlie’s ability to take the last shot and even says “you’re our man” so all of the above is actually canon bc jesse believes in charlie’s capabilities as a player 

also in the novelization jesse is the only other duck who also executes a triple deke so i like to hc that he practiced them with charlie 😌

they look for each other first!! d2 being a great example—when charlie is asked to round up the ducks, the person he starts with is jesse. when jesse doesn’t want to start the flying v because he’s still pissed with bombay, he looks charlie’s way because he doesn’t know what to do. and then there’s a couple of background scenes where you can see them look @ each other whenever something happens like they want validation. it’s cute

no one on the team talks about it but everyone knows jesse has a soft spot for charlie. this is also canon because in d2 there's that montage where everyone's paired off while adam's got his arm in a sling, right. it's hard to see but off to the side there's jesse, charlie & an unknown (who i assume is averman because everyone else is accounted for) as the only kids working as a trio (probably bc adam's out of the running and luis is trying to learn how to stop). anyway you can see jesse yank at the hockey stick that's connected to averman, causing averman to fall flat on his face, but is just letting charlie skate around peacefully lmao. it's true jesse hall plays favorites

also bombay pairs them off for drills so they can bother each other instead of bothering him this is 100% true

their families are close and charlie & casey spend a lot of christmases with the halls. jesse’s dad thinks charlie is literally the best kid in the world (he is) bc charlie’s always polite and considerate and helps jesse with his homework. casey thinks jesse is literally the best kid in the world (he is) because jesse’s kinda polite and considerate and helps charlie with his homework. at least until jesse's dad and casey get called into the principal's office because apparently they've just been copying each other's notes and playing video games

also for two people who are pretty emotional and combative, i think it’s pretty telling how they’ve never gotten mad at each other despite having conflicting views. jesse doesn’t pile on top of charlie to try and make him feel bad (like peter/karp do) despite being one of the first people to walk out on bombay. charlie doesn’t try and stop jesse from taking a stand against adam despite wanting to put the past behind them by accepting him into the team. like, even when they don’t agree with each other’s takes, they respect each other and i think that’s huge 

anyway you know how you’ve got that one person who can basically read you like an open book (even after you haven’t seen them for a while) because they grew up with you and have been there for the weirdest shit? that’s charlie & jesse. like, fulton would be the best man at charlie’s wedding, but jesse’s the one who’d know charlie wouldn’t want a wedding in march because that’s when his grandpa got stung by a bee and died bc of an allergy or whatever. yes, charlie’s absentee dad is anthony bridgerton, you heard it here first

jesse isn’t a fan of pda unless he’s the one to initiate (which he does!!! sometimes!!!), but he never says anything when charlie blatantly disregards this and goes full-on clingy panda anyway. when confronted by this by the other ducks who totally think this is unfair, he acts like he has no idea what anyone’s talking about 

charlie literally stopped talking to jesse for the entirety of d3 because he was still upset about him moving or rejecting the scholarship or whatever the reason is that he's not there, which is why the ducks never bring jesse up because i simply reject the canon where everyone ignores that he ever existed. when they make up, the team barely sees charlie for weeks bc he's holed up in jesse's room

SPEAKING OF. i’ve talked alot about charlie’s personality transplant but i think the problem with him taking center stage in d3 is that every conflict that spawned didn’t seem like it’d be a conflict d1/d2 charlie would have, except for his resistance to change (aka bombay/his father figure leaving). bc he was never the ducks’ ringleader. and not to dunk on his skills bc i am a nhl player charlie conway truther, but canonically he was never a great player either (to the point where it seems like in d2 he already made a full switch to assistant coach). he also never held a grudge against ‘cake-eaters/preppies’ – that’s all jesse. the writers were clearly aware of it and i think that’s partly why the movie’s a little jarring at times, because they had to “level up” charlie and pretend that person was always him (and i think this is also the reason why jesse was cut from the movie altogether). he even starts wearing pinky rings like jesse!!! anyway, all this to say that i think the writers are cowards, but i really do headcanon that charlie’s simply trying to emulate jesse in d3 because he (at first) doesn’t know how to lead the ducks without jesse there to take charge and also he misses him 😔  

lastly some random stuff i basically always refer to in my fic: charlie always steals jesse's shit. jesse likes charlie's curly hair. they know how to read each other's body language but suck at actual verbal communication. i also think the idea of jesse hitting on linda because charlie never introduced them bc REASONS is hilarious, as per my latest fic. and that's it for now!!! stan hallway besties and boyfriends

[elizmanderson]

I'm usually horrible at these things because I never know what to ask, so thank you for the nifty list. XD My question because I love seeing your pole videos -> What made you decide to get into pole fitness?

that is why I made the list, bc I'm also horrible at coming up with questions 😂

anyway. for anyone who is unaware, I post a weekly pole video on Instagram after my pole fitness class. like honestly I do that more predictably than I post about my books lmao.

[I'll add a link to my latest reel when I'm back on desktop, since on mobile the phone's menu blocks the link button when I highlight the text.]

okay so how I got into it:

I had a work friend who does aerial silks (among other things), who invited me to the showcase at the studio she teaches at. something I loved about their showcase was the body diversity, especially in the pole, burlesque, and chair routines. like!! you've got all these plus-sized women looking sexy and confident as hell, and I was like, I want to feel that way.

so after the second showcase I went to, I stopped by my friend's office like "I'm thinking of trying a pole class," and she INSTANTLY grabbed her phone, texted the beginner pole instructor, signed me up for a drop-in class, and said "no more thinking, now you just have to try it :)"

which btw was very effective, like I'm convinced I would've tried it eventually but it probably would've taken another six months of careful consideration bc that's how I generally am.

instead, I went, and I've gone every week since. it's been like 10 months now, and I've also tried a Lyra (aerial hoop) workshop and a pole choreography class, plus helped out with pole demos at Pride, plus go to a free monthly Latin dance night my instructor hosts downtown with a friend from the local ballroom company.

it's the most in tune I've ever been with my own body (ever a work in progress, but we're getting there), plus the best I've ever felt about my body.

on that note, have a thirst trap that a different platform marked as "suggestive content," which is the first time that's ever happened to me lmao

I said my thirties would be my hot girl era, and so they are 😤

[beebopboom]

Paranoia and Isolation

Aziraphale edition - mainly

(Now for this you are going to have to take the lockdown video as canon which I know I know it’s in that weird space but this is just for fun - take what you will)

Aziraphale’s and Crowley’s relationship quite literally has paranoia built into its foundation and that shit ain't just going to go away. Even in the Before the Beginning scene you see Aziraphale worried about someone listening in. However I'm not here to talk about the Before but the After, after Armageddon that is. On the bench you can see Aziraphale start to relax now that they have survived and really have no need to hide anymore until - until Crowley says it’s not over.

“No for my money the really big one is all of us against all of them”

Now for my money I’d say that put Aziraphale back into an "it's not over” mindset - that they still had to stay in their respective angel and demon roles to stay safe - and it’s followed with "time to leave the garden" or time to start all over again - and then crowley’s "temptation" to the ritz or putting himself right back into the role he has been playing for centuries

My point is that they have acknowledged that they will be left alone for a bit but eventually something is going to pull them back in - it's not over and it's still not safe enough to live out their forever together just yet - and they are just sitting around waiting for that something to happen, safe in their roles but now not trying to hide their relationship, at least that is to Aziraphale - it’s a fragile existence

Except they pushed it a little further than that didn't they? they were rather domestic and both planned confessions. why? what changed?

The pandemic happened and they didn't spend it together.

They had maybe a year of this new version of an old dynamic and they probably saw each other a lot until they couldn't. They were separated - largely due to themselves - but separated nonetheless. I mean my lord were they trying not to be but it wasn’t working because they were still trying to play into their roles. When the video was released it was about 2 months into the UK lockdown I believe and Crowley was already so very bored, planning on going to sleep if he couldn’t see Aziraphale. But I want to focus on Aziraphale because he was going stir crazy, he was restless. We see a lot of books most of which can be linked back to Season One and based on him saying he discovered a cookbook section I'd say he is just going through the whole shop, plus all the baking.

Now my point is in his isolation Aziraphale’s practically ingrained paranoia got ramped up and he didn't have Crowley there to bring it back down, so his brain latched on to what could happen to them next and he did what he’s best at - researching, starting with Tadfield. And he was writing it all down in a letter to Crowley (the contents of this letter haunt me, information? Love letter? Both? anyway) - the use of Esq (which I had to look up) is really interesting at this point in their relationship to because it is mainly used in a professional sense. But anyway Aziraphale, our angel that prides himself on his prophecy books, probably had a million ideas of what was coming and was narrowing it down by what happened in Tadfield

But then lockdown ended and they were able to see each other again so perhaps some of this faded into the background but didn't entirely go away. They get about another year before Gabriel shows up and man did they miss each other - those lines they had got so blurred and they slipped out of their roles even more - practically forgotten

And I’m not saying it’s just Aziraphale that is paranoid, I mean we see Crowley is also keeping an eye on Tadflied in the beginning of season two and his whole thing with Gabriel. But whereas Aziraphale’s isolation heightened paranoia had him throwing himself into trying to figure out what was going to happen so he could protect their future(*cough*cottage photo*cough*), Crowley’s had him trying his damnness to protect them as they were now so they didn’t need to concern themselves with Heaven’s or Hell's games - there was no point in it anymore, the whole angel and demon thing - so he dropped the act and started to just live (probably should have told Aziraphale that)

so like that is already so much miscommunication before they even meet up this season

and when the Metatron offers Aziraphale the job it really shined a light on that

It’s not something Aziraphale expects but good lord does it make his job easier in putting the last pieces together - now he just needs Crowley with him (I can do a final talk analysis later)

Except that doesn't happen because Crowley just wants to be done but Aziraphale is just so close and he is going to see this through

I mean before they even get to the lift he is trying to figure out and confirm what the next steps are. He definitely knew what The Second Coming was said to entail and his prediction that he wrote down in that letter was right - he had a plan

[harringtonswriting]

buried hopes | s.h.

summary: it's book swap day, which means you and steve are going to trade books to annotate for each other, and you're going to fall even more for the guy who's just your friend when you read another book that he loves. but you're just friends, and while that's something you've resigned yourself too, it seems like steve is going to use your book to his advantage... pairing: steve harrington x gn!reader warning(s): spoilers for pride & prejudice by jane austen and anne of green gables by l.m. montgomery word count: 5.9k notes: hi hiii!! i'm so, so sorry for the time it took to get this out, but i am very excited for this, and hopefully i can get on a more regular posting schedule soon! i made an entire friends-to-lovers playlist for stevie here that i listened to on loop while writing this. this fic is dedicated to the lovely emma, who deserves the world!

...

It’s the first Friday of the month, which means it’s Book Swap day. And you always love Book Swap day.

It’s something you and Steve started doing together not long after you’d graduated high school the previous year; you’d accidentally left your copy of Interview With the Vampire in Scoop’s Ahoy when you’d gone in one day, and when you’d come back the next day to see if anyone had returned it, you saw Steve sitting in a corner booth, feet propped up on the table and the spine bent in his hands as he flipped through the pages.

He’d looked up as you came in, making a beeline straight for him and your book, and he’d smiled that smile you’d heard about from all the girls at school before telling you that your choice in books was weird and how could anyone like this Lestat dude, anyway? You’d sat down across from him, and the of you spent close to an hour going back and forth about it until Robin Buckley had started yelling at Steve for slacking off and how he could flirt on his own time, thank you very much, since these little monster children need to be fed their daily sugar intake (Though Steve vehemently denied that he was flirting, and you had really hoped that it hadn’t looked like you had been flirting, because Steve Harrington? Not your type. At the time).

That was nearly a year ago, now, and the beginning of a friendship you’d come to cherish very much. Every other month without fail you and Steve had brought each other a book, ones you either liked yourselves or thought the other would like, to swap and annotate for each other, and then you’d each read the annotated copies when you’d finished. While Steve wasn’t a huge reader, as you’d come to learn, and it took him longer than he’d like to admit to finish most of the books you two talked about, he always seemed to enjoy the ones you’d given him.

You feel as though you’d gotten to know Steve through the books he’s given you; you’ve known each other, and of each other, for most of your lives as is wont to happen when you live in a town like Hawkins. Everyone knows everyone else and all of their business, so you’ve always been very much aware of who Steve Harrington is and a lot of what he’s done. Or, well, what people think he’s done.

But the image of Steve you’d had in school is more than a little different to the Steve you’ve gotten to know. It’d started out as just swapping books, but it led to grabbing coffee together to talk about those books, and then each other. You’d come visit him at work sometimes, first at Scoop’s Ahoy, and then Family Video when he and Robin switched jobs. Sometimes he’d surprise you at work, with a baked treat or your favourite drink.

Then he introduced you to the kids he babysits—though most of them are old enough to look after themselves—who idolize him in every way, and show it by teasing the hell out of him. You see how Steve is with them, warm and open and not at all the magnanimous dickhead you’d thought he was in school. Well, that you’d heard he was, anyway.

You’re glad he’s nothing like any of those rumours, that he’s your friend Steve—though the word friend has long since started causing a bit of an ache in your chest and a twist in your stomach, because the Steve who pressed The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe into your hands with a pink flush on his face while telling you he loved that book the most as a kid and even now; the Steve who read Jane Eyre and left the most hilarious comments about Mr Rochester in the margins along with some very questionable doodles—well, that Steve has taken over a rather large part of your life and your heart. Much more than that of a friend, but you’ll never admit that. Out loud to him, anyway.

You’d slowly fallen in love with Steve with each piece of his heart he’s shared with you through the books you’ve both read and discussed together. He has your heart completely, though he doesn’t know that—you’re friends, and that friendship is precious to you. You’re not going to risk that, not in case he doesn’t feel the same and you lose him forever. And as far as you know, he doesn’t feel the same way—he was just as friendly with you as he was with Robin, and you know he’d go to any lengths for the people he cares about. You’d love to be able to read more into the way he’ll answer your calls no matter the time, and the way he’s always standing so close to you, the way he hugs you… it’s completely platonic. So, you resigned yourself to friendship, to loving him silently through the books you shared together.

You walk into Family Video today, bag slung over your shoulder as the bell over the door rings. Robin is messing with one of the displays, a stack of tapes near her feet as she waves to you. Steve is at the front counter, and he immediately looks up from the computer. As soon as he sees that it’s you as you approach him, his face splits into a wide grin and he completely abandons his work to lean against the counter.

“If it isn’t my favourite customer,” he says, and you do your best to ignore the way his smile causes your chest to flutter and a smile to stretch across your own face.

“And if it isn’t my favourite video store employee,” you say, “oh, and you too, Steve.” He jaw drops for a second while Robin cackles. You lean forward on the counter as well.

“Why do you have to hurt me like that?” he asks, and you shrug while Robin keeps laughing.

“So… ready for Book Swap day?” you ask. You reach into your bag to grab your book. Steve, showing off his pretty pink lips as he smiles, reaches around to his back pocket, pulling out a small, worn green paperback with a redhead in a straw hat on the cover. Anne of Green Gables, it reads, as he slides the book over to you across the counter. You recognize it, and pick it up in one hand. You place your copy of Pride and Prejudice down in front of you with the other, sliding it in Steve’s direction.

You love that book; you had to read it for eleventh grade English, and it was one of those books that just stuck with you. You’d bought your own copy after you’d been made to return your copy to the school, and it’s held a special place on your bookshelf ever since. You’ve been waiting for the right time to swap it with Steve, and, well, no time like the present, right?

“What’s this?” he asks, picking it up and turning the book over in his hands. He scans the back, and you can see the way he catches his lip with his teeth as he takes in the description on the back before turning it back over to take in the cover illustration. “Pride and Prejudice, huh? Sounds familiar. Did we have to read that in school?”

“I did!” Robin interjects, trying to take the book from Steve’s hands. He holds it up over his head, trying to keep it out of her reach. She jumps twice to get it, before huffing and shoving the stack of VHS tapes she was working on in his direction. He sticks his tongue out at her, and she returns the favour with her middle finger resting on one of her cheeks before she heads off towards the back of the store.

“I’m going on break! Don’t spend all your time flirting, dingus!” she calls, and you see Steve roll his eyes as he sticks your book under the counter. It stings, just a little, but you swallow that down as far as you. You deposit his book into your bag, careful to mind the pages and make sure you don’t cause any damage. You both choose to ignore Robin’s comment.

“Anne of Green Gables? That’s a good choice,” you tell him, patting the outside of your bag. The smile from earlier comes back, though a bit smaller. That’s when the bell above the door chimes, signalling that someone has come into the store, and you turn to see old Mrs Powell making her way towards Steve with a smile on her face and Gone With the Wind clutched in her hand. You smile politely at her before winking at Steve and excusing yourself. Getting caught up with Mrs Powell is an hour you don’t want to spend, so you’re going to leave before you get trapped here, too.

“Call you tonight!” Steve calls, and you raise a hand in acknowledgement as you leave the store.

…

The first thing you notice when you sit down on your bed and open the book is Steve’s blocky handwriting on the cover page, stating ‘This book belongs to Steve Harrington! Hands off!’ and your heart warms at the sight.

You can imagine Steve, curled up in bed with a flashlight under his covers, reading this book to himself. Or, maybe on a rainy Sunday afternoon, hanging off the edge of his bed to read with his arms stretched out in front of him, mouthing the words as he reads them. You’d seen him do that before, both at work and when reading things when you’ve been out together, and you think it’s an endearing trait. Sometimes he’ll even whisper what he’s reading under his breath, which you pretend you don’t hear—you don’t want to give him any reason to stop doing it around you.

With that, you turn the pages and start reading the book.

You have an entire system worked out: one colour for quotes, another one for notes, and even these cute little puffy stickers and sticky tabs to mark the pages. You’ve got everything you need scattered across your bed as you read, so you can reach for anything as you mark up the book. Which you do, quite liberally, as you read about Anne Shirley and how she comes to live in Avonlea.

The further you get in the book, the more you can see why Steve loves it. The pure, childlike innocence and joy, the saccharine sweetness of the trials and tribulations that Anne faces at home and at school and in the community at large. Anne is so passionate and so full of drive and joy, and the way she sees the world, so bright and romantic and full of adventure, and she doesn’t lose that as she grows and matures; you can see how Steve would be drawn to that, drawn to this story, and it makes your heart ache in a wonderfully bittersweet way for him, knowing what he’s been through with his family, with love, with the people he’d called friends before the kids and Robin—and you—had come into his life.

You also completely understand where Gilbert Blythe is coming from, loving someone like Anne Shirley. Though he’s a little more obvious with it than you hope you are. You understand what it’s like to love someone like Anne, someone who wears their heart on their sleeve, who hates so much about themselves but still manages to see the beauty in the world and in others, and holding this book in your hands, this small, worn, dogeared and well-loved paperback, you feel as though you’re holding a piece of Steve’s heart that few others have gotten to see. He’s trusted you with this, and you only hope you can keep that piece of him with you in any way you can, for as long as you can.

You take your time annotating the book—you want to make sure you give it the attention it deserves, and to let Steve know exactly what you think. It takes you a few days to finish, but you’re happy with the end result.

You even make sure to place a little gold star sticker next to your favourite quote: "Well, that is another hope gone. ‘My life is a perfect graveyard of buried hopes.’ That's a sentence I read in a book once, and I say it over to comfort myself whenever I'm disappointed in anything."

You flip back to the cover page, where Steve’s name is still written proclaiming ownership of the book. Before you can think better of it and chicken out, you scrawl, ‘Lovingly annotated by’ under where Steve has signed his name, and write your own name in your favourite colour of pen. You also add a small heart next to it before you shut the book.

…

You call Steve the next morning, letting him know you’ve finished Anne of Green Gables; he’s still only halfway through Pride and Prejudice, so you wait another week, as patiently as you can, until he calls you and tells you he’s finished, too. Though he calls you at nearly ten at night when you’re already in your pyjamas, so you agree to swap back the next day.

So that leads you to bring Anne of Green Gables with you to Family Video just after noon; it’s just Steve today, no Robin in sight as you push the door open and he greets you from behind the counter. The store looks pretty empty as well. Steve is playing with a slinky on the counter, having stacked video tapes up like stairs to push it down.

“Keith’s in the office pretending to do paperwork,” he tells you by way of greeting, pushing the silver metal with a long finger. That doesn’t surprise you, from what you know about Keith. You’re glad the cheesy-fingered guy isn’t out here right now. You take Anne of Green Gables out of your bag and place it next to the VHS stairs, and Steve reaches under the counter to grab Pride and Prejudice and put it on the counter.

“So… what did you think?” you ask, and Steve shakes his head. His hair flops down onto his forehead, which is a little unusual for him, but the sight makes your stomach tingle at how cute it is and how well it suits him before he’s pushing it back into place.

“Nope, you gotta read it! I’m not spoiling anything.” It’s something the two of you do every time when you swap your books back, and it’s worth it to hear him laugh. Though his laugh today was just a little more hollow than usual, and his shoulders are up near his ears. There’s tension in his body that isn’t normally there, not around you. “Just… read it all the way through before we talk about it, okay? And really think about it. Take all the time you need.”

“Okay… did you hate it? Is that what’s going on?” You scan his face, trying to pick out any details that might show that he didn’t like your choice. Which you wouldn’t be mad about—not everyone loves every book, even the classics, but you really hope you didn’t make him feel like he was forced to read something he completely hated.

“What? No!” Steve is very quick to insist that, and you fix him with a stare. He sighs, bringing a hand up to run through his messy brown hair once again, before he starts fiddling with the slinky. “I mean, no, I didn’t hate it. I just… had a lot more to say than I thought.” He pauses for a moment. “Actually, you know what,” he reaches for the book in front of him, fidgeting slightly where he’s standing, “I think I need to edit my notes, lemme see that.”

“Nope!” You quickly snatch the book up off the counter before he can grab it, holding it tight against your chest and moving away from the counter. “No take backs!” He makes a half-hearted attempt to take it from you, his warm, calloused fingertips scraping over the skin of your hand, before you’re dropping the book into your bag.

“Don’t hate me for what I said. Promise?” You can’t imagine ever hating Steve Harrington. You don’t think it’s possible, looking into his deep brown eyes that somehow still twinkle under the fluorescent lights. You don’t even hate the horrid green polyester vest he’s wearing; somehow, Steve always manages to look good, even in terrible lighting in a polo that clashes with his vest, even with a crease between his eyebrows and his soft pink lips turned down slightly, and it sends adoration thrumming through your body and down your spine.

“Steve, I could never hate you, I promise,” you say. Not when I love you as much as I do. The words dance on the tip of your tongue as his eyes search your face for any hint of a lie. He must find none, because he grabs his book and shoves it into his back pocket. He almost looks as if he’s about to say something else, his mouth opening slightly—

—and then the bell above the door rings, signalling customers have arrived, and you call out your goodbyes before you turn around and hightail it out of the store.

…

You want to crack open your book as soon as you get home, and you put the book on your bed so you can do so, but then you notice that your closet needs to be straightened out, and then there’s some laundry that needs doing, and oh, just how many cups have you let pile up in your room? So you take those into the kitchen and then get busy doing the dishes and before you know it, it’s already dark out and you still haven’t started reading.

But you can’t put it off any longer, so you finally curl up in your bed to crack open your book.

Steve doesn’t disappoint; he usually always has a lot to say in the margins of the books he annotates for you, and that remains true with Pride and Prejudice. You can’t help but grin to yourself as you read through what he has to say.

‘Wait… so she got herself sick JUST so Bingley could take care of her? Wow, that still worked even back then. Jane is playing to win. Gotta remember that.’ He’s even drawn a little winky face next to this comment.

Almost as soon as Mr Wickham is introduced, Steve is commenting on him. ‘Man, this Wickham guy is suspicious… I don’t like him.’ Steve is perceptive (in most aspects, at least in things not relating to the heart), and it makes you happy that he caught on that early that Wickham is trouble.

‘Charlotte deserves better. First Mr Collins proposes to her best friend and then he settles for her? I don’t like him.’ That is definitely something you agree with. You continue reading through, scanning the text and paying attention to Steve’s comments, making note of any questions he asks. That is, until you get to the point where Mr Darcy first confesses to Elizabeth.

“You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”

The quote is underlined in red pen, quite heavy handed, but there’s no notes next to it in the margins. Which is odd for Steve; normally he’s got a lot to say, and he’ll usually take notes or write any questions he has for you so you can answer them when you meet up after having finished reviewing your annotated books. You’re a little caught off guard, but you continue reading.

A little further along in the book, you can see the amount of exclamation points increase as Steve is proven right not only by Mr Darcy’s letter, but also with what happens with the elopement. ‘The scandal! The outrage! How could Lydia have run away with Wickham? Dude’s a real jag off. I totally called it, go back and check!!’

And it goes back to normal from there. There are even some doodles of Mr Darcy slapping Wickham in the margins whenever Wickham is mentioned after that, which are definitely something you’d frame if you could. What Steve lacks in artistic talent he makes up for in enthusiasm.

But then it happens again. The red pen comes back twice near the very end of the book, when Mr Darcy and Elizabeth are discussing their feelings for one another both before and after getting engaged. Two quotes from Mr Darcy are once again underlined, several times, with no other comments.

“My affections and wishes are unchanged, but one word from you will silence me on this subject forever.”

And then,

“I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look, or the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun.”

Your heart starts beating a little faster in your chest as you read and re-read the words. Maybe he just loves those quotes. Maybe he’s going to steal them to say to the girls he asks out; the thought isn’t something you’d like to think about, but it’s entirely possible. They’re also the last parts that have been annotated, at least until the very end of the book.

“That was better than I thought it’d be, but don’t tell Robin,” Steve’s handwriting is scrawled underneath the final paragraph of the book. It’s written in red pen, the same shade as the quotes he’d underlined with no notes. “She’ll never let me live it down. But thank you for sharing this with me. I can see why you love it. And, well… hopefully now you can see how I feel about you.”

Your breath catches in your throat as you read and re-read the words ‘hopefully now you can see how I feel about you’ because… are you imagining things? You and Steve are just friends, no matter how you might feel… but he wrote this note in that same red pen. You’re imagining things. You have to be. You flip back to the quotes that stuck out to you, the ones with no notes next to them, and then back to Steve’s note. And it feels like something clicks.

Oh.

You drop the book in your hands. You look over at your nightstand, seeing your alarm clock and that it’s currently just past midnight. You grab the phone that sits on your nightstand, picking it up and dialling Steve’s number before bringing the receiver up to your ear. You don’t know if Steve’s parents are home and if you could be waking them up. But you have to know.

It takes an almost agonizing three rings before someone on the other end picks up, and you’re really hoping it’s not Mr Harrington because that’s not a conversation you really want to have right now.

“Hello?” Thankfully it’s Steve who answers, his voice a little raspy, and it crosses your mind briefly that he might have been sleeping. That’s something you’ll worry about later, though, because you need to know.

“Is it true?” you ask, and there’s silence on the line for a few seconds. Steve doesn’t ask what you’re talking about.

“You finally finished it, huh? You’re slower at reading than me, and that’s saying something,” he says, and while you can tell he’s trying to keep his tone light, the words come out strained, almost forced. It’s almost as if he’s waiting for something to drop, for you to say some magic words you haven’t quite worked out in your mind. But all you can think of is what he wrote in the book sitting in front of you, and how it’s causing a bubble to grow in your chest, filling you with hope and fear and just a bit of dread, while your heart hammers into it from the other side, wanting to hit your ribs with how hard it’s beating.

“Steve.” Your tone silences any other comments he might have had, and you can feel the bubble threatening to burst in your chest, to bring you up or knock you down. You have to know. You have to ask. “Is it true?”

It’s silent for a beat. Then another. Then another. And then you hear Steve take a breath. “Will you hate me if I say yes?”

Your heart stutters in your chest and the bubble is getting bigger and tighter as hope replaces the fear, but maybe you’ll worry about any medical problems you might be developing later because that’s dangerously close to a confession.

“Only if you don’t tell me to my face.” You’re mostly joking when you say that, but you hear the jingling of keys on the other end, and the loud thump of his footsteps as he moves into the hardwood hallway from the carpet in his room.

“Wait for me?” he asks, though there’s more than just those three words hanging between you. There’s so much that you want to say. That you’ve been waiting for an achingly long time, that you would wait forever and a day if it meant being with him. That he’s always going to be worth waiting for. You’ll tell him that when he’s sitting in front of you.

“Trellis on the left side is still broken,” you warn, and you hear his laugh. It eases the pressure in your chest, even if just a little.

“Be there soon,” he promises, and you believe him. You say your goodbyes, hanging up the phone. You sit for a second, taking in the sight of your room, before deciding that Steve has been in your room many times, you still need to straighten up a bit. You need to do something that you can focus on until he gets here.

You’re not completely convinced this isn’t just an extremely vivid dream, even when you trip and stumble forward getting off the bed. It feels like a dream, like one you never want to wake up from, thinking that Steve could return your feelings. That he could be in love with you, too, and that this could work.

True to his word, you can hear Steve’s car pulling up on the driveway in record time, tires crunching and headlights flashing momentarily through the curtains you hadn’t closed yet. You have just enough time to smooth out the blankets on your bed before there’s a tapping at your window. You move over to unlock and open it, sliding it up and seeing Steve sitting on the other side.

“Hi,” he greets, and you move to the side so he can climb in. He makes it almost all the way in, enough that you think he might actually stick the landing, when one of his shoes gets caught on the window sill and he tumbles face first onto the floor. He’s quick to spring up, though, shaking it off and doing his best to grin at you. You do your best to smile back, though you’re pretty sure it doesn’t look quite right at how quickly Steve’s own smile drops. “I guess, uh… I guess we need to talk, huh?”

“We do,” you confirm. You can understand Steve’s apparent apprehension; this is going to cross a line that you know can never be uncrossed. Once you fall over the precipice, you don’t know how far you’ll fall or where you’ll land, and it’s always something you’ve tried to avoid. But maybe you don’t need to avoid that anymore. Maybe you don’t need to be afraid as Steve extends his hand to gently, hesitantly, take one of yours. It’s not the first time you’ve held hands, but you’re noticing just how calloused his hand is, how it’s just a little clammy and he’s got a few scars that you can brush your thumb over.

He slips his shoes off and leaves them under your window, and the two of you walk towards your bed. He sits cross legged and you mirror him. He seems to realize he’s still holding your hand because he lets it go, and you mourn the loss of warmth and the feeling of his skin under yours while he gathers his thoughts. You can almost see the gears turning in his head, turning his feelings into thoughts and those thoughts into words and sentences and sentiments that he can share with you. You give him the space to do so, because even though you’re dying to know what he’s feeling and to confirm that he meant what you thought he meant, you know that sometimes it can take him a bit longer than you to verbalize and express what he means, and that’s totally okay.

“I can’t stop thinking about you. No matter how hard I try, you’re always on my mind,” he says. He shifts, fidgeting slightly, as he gestures with his hands while he speaks. You watch them for a moment before your eyes make their way back to his own. “And I thought it was just, y’know, as a friend. And I was happy thinking that way for a while, but the more we’ve hung out and the better I’ve gotten to know you, the more I realized that it’s not just as a friend.” He sighs, bringing his hands down to start picking at the blanket on your bed. “Robin’s been on my ass about it for ages, which has been kind of annoying, but I didn’t want to ruin what we have. What if you didn’t feel the same way? What if… what if I say something and we can’t go back to what we have now?”

It’s as if he’s got a direct line tapped into your own thoughts, like he’s plucked a cassette tape from your brain and popped it in your boom box to start playing your thoughts, your feelings, and your fears for him. You’re not sure you’ve been breathing this entire time; while Steve has left you breathless on occasion, this is a little different. Because this is Steve admitting that he feels the same way you do, with his big brown eyes shining in the soft orange light your lamp is emitting.

“But I realized I don’t really want to go back. I want this. I want you. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” The words come out quickly, as if they’re stumbling over his tongue and his lips to race out to you. The bubble in your chest finally pops, warmth spreading through your chest, up to warm your necks and your cheeks, and down to warm your fingers and your toes. Steve feels the same way you do. He wants you. “And when you gave me that book, which was actually much better than I was expecting it to be, I knew that was how I wanted to tell you. Darcy just happened to word it much better than I could, so I just kinda piggybacked off him so I could tell you how I feel and hope you don’t hate me for it.”

“I could never hate you, Steve.” You’re very quick to try and reassure him (though you’re also sure you’re reassuring yourself that this is real as well), your hands finding his to stop them picking at your comforter. It’s your turn to talk now, and you focus on how warm Steve’s hands are held in your own to keep you grounded in this moment. “God, I’ve been so scared because I feel the same way, and I didn’t want to lose you, but I didn’t think you’d ever feel like that about me.” Steve’s face immediately lights up, any and all creases and frown lines being smoothed away to make room for joy that radiates like your own personal sun. And his joy is infectious because you can feel yourself smiling, too.

“You really… you feel the same way about me?” he asks, and you nod. Because the more he says it, the more you two talk about it, the easier it comes out. Yes, you’re so in love with Steve, and now you know he’s in love with you. Steve shuffles closer to you on the bed, close enough that you can feel his warm breath fanning across your already warm cheeks.

“Can I kiss you now?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper. You voice aloud your consent, and then he’s leaning forward and pressing a soft, chaste kiss to your lips. His lips are slightly chapped, and you can taste the bite of spearmint on his tongue—you didn’t think he had time to brush his teeth before leaving his house with how quickly he got there, so he most likely had some Tic Tacs that you know he keeps in his glove compartment before he got here. The idea of Steve eating some mints before climbing up the side of your house is so endearing to you, because of course he would, and you smile against his lips as your hands squeeze his own.

This kiss is nothing like you’d imagined; there’s no huge bursting of fireworks, there’s no burning desire to jump each other (on your end, at least), but there is a sense of comfort and familiarity. This is Steve, your Steve, whose nose bumps against yours a little awkwardly but whose lips fit with your own like they were always meant to be there. And boy, did you hope they would always fit with yours from now on.

However, the need for air soon has the two of you breaking apart, though Steve presses his forehead to yours and brings one of your hands up to press small kisses to your knuckles.

“That was… wow,” he says, a breathy laugh tumbling out of his mouth. “How come we waited so long to do this?”

“Because we were both too worried about being a good friend to let ourselves be happy.” That gets a real chuckle out of Steve, which quickly turns into a wonderful, full laugh from the both of you. You sit in silence for a moment once the laughter subsides, and Steve presses a kiss to your forehead before he lets go of your hands.

“I’m gonna take you on a real date,” he promises, crossing his hand over his heart. “Dinner, a movie, anything you want! You name it and we’ll do it. It’ll be the best first date you’ve ever been on.”

“As long as it’s with you, there’s no way it won’t be.” You see the way his cheeks flush at those words, and it fills you with a sense of pride to know that you have that effect on him—and that you get to see this, just you, with the guy you’re in love with. Wow, you don’t know if you’ll ever get tired of thinking that.

(Steve leaves out your bedroom window not long after, but promises he’ll call you in the morning; you watch him nearly fall down the trellis on the right, which you think might be broken now too, and see Steve dust himself off and get back in his car to drive home. Once his headlights have long since vanished into the distance, you head back to bed and pick up your new favourite book, one that you’ll read from time and time again when you want to remind yourself of how loved you are by Steve Harrington.)

[vendettaparker]

Peanut Butter and Extra Jelly [T.H]

Summary: Tom’s long time crush on you becomes painful when you and Harrison are cast as love interests in a movie. 

Paring: Tom Holland x Actress!Reader 

Word Count: 5.8k

Warning: Suggestive themes, fake smut (very light), jealousy, probably some typos, swearing 

a/n: i have no idea how filming a movie, or auditioning for one actually goes so don’t crucify me for this. i’m pretty happy with how this turned out, especially considering that this is the most i’ve ever written for a fic. also, Burt Kreisher is one of my fav comedians in real life, he has 3 shows on neflix and a mini series.  

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     Tom was not a jealous person. At least, that's what he always told himself. He prided himself in thinking he was a very level headed individual who didn’t let his emotions get the best of him. That worked best for his job anyways; always being able to control his emotions and not get in his own head. That simple, pacifistic mindset seemed to change when it came to you. 

      You were one of the many actors Tom got the pleasure to help hone their technique and work closely with. You were new to the lifestyle of Hollywood and the only roles you had before were in small indie films that never garnered too much attention. The first major role that you landed, which also happened to help kickstart your career, was in the MCU. You played the secondary villain in the third Spider-man movie. 

     Meeting the cast was a dream come true; they were all extremely helpful and they provided tons of tips and tricks in navigating the hectic schedule required for such a huge production. By the time filming wrapped up, you were considered part of their little Spider-man family. 

     Tom was easily the most helpful. Whenever he saw you struggling with anything, he offered to help. You two spent hours upon hours together in his trailer, ordering take out and practicing lines. Some nights you two planned to work through your script, but inevitably ended up falling asleep binge watching The Office, and laughing about crazy shit that happened on set that day. 

     When the movie wrapped up and you went home for a month before the press tour, you were completely unsure and nervous about what direction your career was going in. You auditioned for a few new movies, but had yet to hear from any of the directors about casting decisions. You kept in touch Tom during the month you were apart and expressed your concerns. 

     “I don’t know, Tom. I’m just so sick of waiting around and hoping that some director out there throws me a bone, ya know’?” You said on facetime, while making cookies. 

     “Yeah, I totally understand that, (Y/N/N). I had that issue a couple years ago before the Marvel movies. Trust me, you did outstanding in that role and once it gets noticed I’m positive you’ll have directors calling you, begging for you to audition.” Tom smiled warmly into the camera as he walked around his apartment in London. 

      “Yeah, easy for you to say, movie-star.” You giggled, turning your face away from the camera in hopes that Tom wouldn’t notice the blush his compliments painted onto your cheeks 

     “I’m serious! You were outstanding! Like in that one scene where you—” 

      “Tom! Tessa chewed a hole in my trousers again!” A voice came from outside of the frame, “Mate, you gotta get her to stop doing that somehow.” 

     Tom sighed, and waved his hand dismissively at the figure, “Okay, sure. I’m busy right now.” Tom looked back to the camera, “anyways, as I was saying, don’t stress about not having a new project yet, (Y/N)—” 

     “(Y/N)?” The other voice whisper-yelled. “Let me say hi!”, suddenly the phone was yanked out of Tom's hands and the video shook around a bit as Tom wrestled to get it back. Finally, the camera stilled and Harrison was on the other end smiling. “Hi, (Y/N)!” 

     “Oh, hi Harrison!” You smiled back, laughing. You'd met Harrison a few times when he visited Tom on set. “How are you?” 

     The camera started moving around more as the background behind Harrsion whizzed past. You assumed Tom must’ve been chasing him to get the phone back. 

     “I’m good! I just auditioned for a new movie. You should audition too! The main female lead’s description looks just like you.” He exclaimed, running past the kitchen to his room. 

     “Oi! Give me my phone back you div!” You heard Tom yelling in the background, no doubt in hot pursuit of Harrison. 

     “I don’t know, I'm not sure I’m prepared for a lead role.” You sighed, “What’s the movie called? I’ll look into it.” 

     “It’s called ‘Collateral Damage’, it’s a spy movie.” Harrison said, shutting the door to his room, while Tom pounded on it from the other side. “Yeah, it’d be really fun working with you. Tom constantly talks about how much fun you are on set.” Harrison wheezed out, trying to catch his breath. 

      “Aw, that’s sweet of him.” You laughed. “Well I’ve got to go. Just tell Tom he can call me tomorrow or something.” You waved at the camera. “Bye!”

     “Yup, bye.” Harrison said right before the video cut out. 

      Harrison finally opened the door to a seething Tom. Tom grabbed the phone back from Harrison and noticed that the call had ended. 

     “Dude! Why would you do that?” Tom whined. 

     Harrison just patted Tom’s back, “Sorry, mate. She said she had to go, though. I was about to give the phone back.” 

     Tom huffed and sulked for a moment. “Whatever, I’ll just call her later, I guess.” 

     Harrison nodded and smirked at how whipped Tom was. “You should just ask her out if you’re so desperate for her attention.” Harrison teased. 

     “Shut up. I’m not desperate for her attention, I just like her voice and her personality, and the way she talks, and her funny sayings, and how her hair looks when she just woke up.” 

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     It was only a few days later when you received an email from the director of the movie Harrison told you about, asking for you to audition. You were ecstatic, Harrison must’ve already sent in some things about you since the director seemed adamant that you were of high interest for the role. 

     You called Tom immediately to share the good news. 

     He picked up after the third ring, “Hello, darling! How are you?” he beamed when he answered your call. He usually was the one to call you so he felt a sense of pride knowing that you were calling him for once. 

     “Tom! The director of the movie Harrison auditioned for just emailed me asking for me to audition!” You squealed excitedly. 

     “Really? That’s wonderful, love! Harrison just got the part of the lead too, so you’d be filming with him if you got it.” 

     “That’s so exciting, I’m flying to London for the audition in two days. Are you still there?” You pulled the phone away from your ear and switched it to speaker. “I’m booking the flight right now.” 

     “Yeah, I’ll be in London for another week and a half. Then we have the press tour starting in Japan.” Tom said, also switching to speaker phone to look at his calendar. “You can stay with Harrison and I while you’re here. Since we have to go to Japan together anyways.” Tom offered nervously. He really wanted you to stay in his flat with him. It’d be all cute and domestic, and maybe, just maybe, he’d spend enough time with you to not feel nervous about asking you on a date. If he was lucky, that is, but awaiting your reply he was a jittery ball of nerves. 

     “Yeah, that sounds wonderful. I won't be intruding though, right?” You said, smiling from ear to ear. Thank god you weren’t on facetime and Tom couldn’t see the stupid smile adoring your features. 

     “No, of course not. Harry will be so excited to see you. And Tessa too, she really misses you.” Tom shuffled around with his phone, shooting a quick text to Harrison letting him know you were coming to stay for a week. 

     “Ok, thanks so much, this is really thoughtful of you. I absolutely can’t wait to see you!” You gushed, finalizing your purchase of a one-way ticket to London. “K, the flight is at 2:30 pm here, it’s about 9 and a half hours, but you’re also ahead of me, so I’ll be in around..5?”

     “Yeah, that sounds right to me,” Tom chuckled, “I’ll come pick you up. I’ll wear my incognito disguise.” 

     “If you mean that stupid t-shirt you got that says ‘I’M NOT A CELEBRITY’, then maybe I’ll ask Harrison to come pick me up…”

     “That’s cold (Y/L/N).” 

     You giggled softly, “I’m sorry, Tommy. If it makes you feel better, that shirt isn’t as bad as that stupid blue beanie that you never wear correctly.”

     “How the fuck would that make me feel better? You’re killing me, (Y/N/N).” 

     You laughed at his over dramatic reaction, “Sorry that you’re a sensitive babe. I gotta go now, see you soon!” You hung up before Tom could respond with a sassy quip. Then immediately after you received a text:

Tommy: The second you get here I’m bout to 👊 

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     Tom called Harrison up after you got off the phone, he needed to make sure his best friend wouldn’t say or do anything to embarrass him in front of you. 

     “Tom, don’t you think this is a bit obsessive? I mean, she’s only staying with us for a week and you already know her so well from spending all that time filming with her.” Harrison sighed, sick of listening to Tom ramble about every possible embarrassing situation he could be put in, in the coming week. 

     “Yeah, yeah, you’re right. It's no big deal. But don’t mention that time I accidentally shit my pants at the club, or that time I got hit in the head with a golf ball ‘cus I got distracted by a flock of geese, or that time a got chased by a flock of geese, or—”

     “Geez, mate. At this point we might as well not even talk to her.” Harrison chuckled, thinking of all the stories he could bring up about Tom around the dinner table with you. Tom really was just a walking ball of embarrassing moments. 

     “Stoppp ittt,” Tom whined, “when we were on set it was usually just the cast and Harry around, but you? You could do some real fucking damage to my love life, Haz.” 

     “What love life?” Harrison barked out, laughing. 

     Tom then hung up and began praying to whatever god was out there that this week could go by without a hitch, and then you and him would be on your way, together, to Japan. 

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     The whole week spent in London actually went really well, especially the audition. Tom and Harrison both accompanied you for moral support, well Harrison actually had to be there to be your scene partner, but it was still nice knowing he supported you. 

     The director shook your hand and you went through the normal formalities before beginning your scene with Harrison. It was a quick scene with a monologue in it. The main premise of the movie was all about choosing love over work, especially in dangerous, life-threatening scenarios. The scene you used to audition with Harrison was the scene where the main character, Lincoln, and his lover interest, Mallory, were arguing, trying to push each other away to keep each other safe. The scene had a lot of raw emotion that you were able to tap into, and the directors gave your performance a standing ovation once the scene concluded. 

     They said that they’d get back to you within the next few days, but they also mentioned how the chemistry between you and Harrison was off the charts, leaving you hopeful. Tom and Harrison both gave you hugs and pats on the back. Tom had watched the whole scene unfold and he was in complete and utter awe of your talent. Part of him was annoyed that he didn’t audition for the movie and a chance as your love interest. But Harrison deserved this big break and so did you, so he was hopeful of the outcome being something that benefitted both of his best friends. 

    After the audition the rest of the week went by nearly perfectly. The real kicker was when Tom’s family invited you and Harrison to join them for dinner. Tom had not anticipated his mom asking you to come to family dinner, so he wasn’t able to stop the embarrassing anecdotes his mom told on his behalf. 

     “Tom had the cutest little tush,” Nikki exclaimed, placing the old homemade scrapbook in your lap and flipping through a couple of pages. “See look,” she happily pointed to a picture of Tom as a toddler in a bath, surrounded by bubbles, his little bum poking through them. 

     Tom sat uncomfortably on the sofa next to you, cringing at the now 21 year old photo of him. He expected you to also cringe along, or worse case scenario, get up and make a flimsy excuse to leave his crazy family, but you just chuckled along with Nikki and continued making your way through the scrapbook, making little comments here and there. 

     “Oh, and this one,” Nikki said, pointing to a photo of Tom crying and Sam holding up a superhero action figure triumphantly, “that was Tom’s favorite toy, but when Sam saw how much Tom liked it, he made an effort to always be playing with it when Tom came into the room and he wouldn’t share.”

     You giggled at the little whiny face Tom made in the picture, and turned to him, replicating it on your face, making fun of him. Tom laughed along and playfully shoved you. He adored how well you seemed to fit in with his family and his feelings for you only multiplied. 

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

     The week in London was one of the best in your life. You didn’t realize how much you missed Tom until you got to the airport and he was there waiting for you, unfortunately in his stupid blue beanie, and no, it wasn’t on right, his big ears poked out of it horrendously. 

     The last day you had in London before you and Tom went to Japan, you finally received a call about the audition. The director called you to congratulate you on getting the part, and he sent you numerous emails about scheduling, where to be, and when. Harrison was elated to have a familiar face playing his love interest on screen, and Tom was over the moon excited for you, this on top of the Spider-man movie coming out, you were certainly becoming a force to be reckoned with. 

     You spent the night celebrating at a club, Harry and Sam also showed up to party with you. The night was still young and the club was already packed and in full swing. Tom ordered two shots for each of you to start off the night before he was whisked away by a few fans to sign autographs. When he didn’t return you took it upon yourself to have his shots, giving you an extra edge to help spice up your night. 

     Harrison found Tom in the corner of the club talking to some fans. But throughout his whole time taking pictures with them, he couldn’t help but glance at you every once and a while. You looked so carefree and beautiful, dancing around in your shiny silver top and leather leggings. 

      “Tom.” Harrison interrupted Tom’s gawking and directed his attention to the small group of fans Tom was with. 

     Tom nodded and finished up his pictures and autographs before wishing them all a good and safe night. Once he reached you, you engulfed him in a bone crushing hug. 

     “Thank you for such a great time in London, Tommy.” you slurred, already feeling the impact of the four shots you took. “I had the best time of my whole life.” You pecked his cheek and pulled him close to dance with you. 

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     The following month or so on the press tour was a once in a lifetime experience. You travelled to more cities than you even knew the name of and you had all of your friends by your side. More so, you had motivation to remain approachable and well liked by fans considering that you were moving up in the industry. Some interviews were mostly for Tom, Zendaya, and Jacob. Your role in the movie was big enough for you to be needed for some interviews, and most people were genuinely interested in getting to know you, but there were also a handful of press activities that you weren’t included in, which you didn’t mind. 

     When you didn’t have anything to do for an hour or so, you would text Harrison and send him funny memes. He was quickly becoming one of your closest friends; you had already created a surplus of inside jokes with him just over the phone. 

     Tom noticed how you were always laughing at your phone or rapid fire texting. Even when you were being interviewed, Tom could faintly hear the buzz of your text message notifications going off. 

     “Tom,” you snapped in front of his eyes, “did you need something?” 

     “Huh?” Tom blinked a few times, “Uh—no, sorry.” Tom’s cheeks flushed pink, embarrassed for having been caught staring at you. He couldn’t help it though, you were dressed so pretty that day. You had your hair done up in two bubble braids and you wore his pink sweatshirt over your yellow sundress. 

     “Okay then.” You smiled at him. You went back to your phone, reading what Harrison had just texted you. “What was the name of that comedian we watched the other night?” 

     “The one on Netflix?” 

     You hummed out a yes, tapping away at your phone. 

     “Burt Kreisher, why?” Tom asked, leaning over to your chair to try and catch a glimpse of who you were texting. When he saw the contact name “Hazzy”, he couldn't stop the little angry pit of jealousy that started in his stomach. Sure, you were here with him now, not with Harrison, but when you two were apart you also texted him nonstop, and the texts seemed to all be inside jokes, which was something you also shared with him that he held near and dear.

     “I made a joke referencing him to Harrison and he didn’t get it. Fucking nerd.” You chuckled, texting Harrison a link to the skit you were referring to. 

     Tom chuckled along, but he couldn’t help but frown slightly at how bright your smile was when Harrison replied. 

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     The press tour and premiere of the movie seemed to go by lighting fast. You’d never been to a premiere for a production this big, and your nerves for the red carpet were starting to get to you. 

     You and Zendaya were stuffed into a hotel room with both of your respective teams, both trying to rapidly get both of you ready for the event. 

     “So when do you start filming for your next project?” Zendaya asked, she sat in front of a broadway-equse mirror, bright bulbs of light giving a luminescent glow to her already near flawless complexion. She hadn’t even finished her makeup yet and she was so pretty.  

     “In a month, I have to go back to London next week.” You said, sifting through the opinions you brought for dresses. You brought three options, just in case you changed your mind after seeing yourself in the dress. “Harrison and I are going to go over the scripts together and we were also told to go out in public a few times; for press and whatnot.” 

      “That’s exciting!” Zendaya mused, she glanced at the clock and gave her hairdresser some instructions about how much time she had to do hair. “It’s a good thing you guys are already friends. I remember when I filmed ‘The Greatest Showman’ I didn’t know many of the actors personally, so we had to go out together and do press all while being almost strangers. It was a bit nerve wracking.” Zendaya smiled at you fondly, she was like an older sister to you during this whole movie-making process, she constantly had your back. 

     “Yeah, I mean I’ll probably be in a situation like that at some point, but for my first lead role it’s nice to be working opposite a friend.” You smiled back, finally deciding on the red, sequined dress. 

     You both sat and worked through the makeup process in comfortable silence. 

     “So you and Tom…” Zendaya broke the silence and looked at you with a smirk on her face. 

     “What?” You looked at her with a dumbfounded look, before nervously laughing, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

     “Don’t play dumb, (Y/N/N).” She poked your arm and laughed, “He’s literally obsessed with you.” 

     You laughed at how ridiculous that sounded. A movie star, and very famous movie star at that, obsessed with you? You? Impossible. 

     “Yeah no, sorry but you got the wrong girl, babe.” You sighed, pulling out your phone to snap and selfie with her for your instagram story. You quickly snapped a pic of the two of you, her kissing your cheek, leaving a small, faint lipstick mark. “I mean it’d be nice,” you back tracked, “but I’m sure that’s just my wishful thinking.” 

     “What wishful thinking? I thought you were a pessimist?” Zendaya chuckled, taking her own photo with you to post later. 

     “I am, but I can’t help but indulge a bit.” 

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     Before you knew it, you were back in London, staying in a rented out flat for the next three to four months. Harrison was kind enough to come over to help you set up a work space, but he also offered you to spend most of your time at his place. Since Tom was in New York, doing interviews about the new Spider-man movie and having meetings with the Marvel Cinematic Universe team to try and gauge his future in the MCU, he wouldn’t be around for almost a month, so Harrison offered up Tom’s office when you needed to go over a scene by yourself and wanted a place that was already set up. 

     The days of filming seemed to go by in the blink of an eye. Most of your scenes were with Harrison, and he was the perfect scene partner. He rarely messed up, but if he did then he was quick to use it as an opportunity to improvise. His skills weren’t as well honed in like Tom’s, but it was obvious that their style ranged from a similar source. 

     The main thing about this movie that you were excited, but extremely nervous for, were the two sex scenes. The first one is at the beginning, where the two leads give in to each other for a night, then there's some implied stuff in between, and the last one is when the two leads part ways for the final time at the end of the movie. The first one had to be rough, fast, and needy, whereas the second one was direct to be more slow, thought out, and sensual. 

      Both were extremely stress-inducing to film. Harrison had also never done any scenes like this before, so he was on the same boat as you. Thankfully you had an amazing director and stunt coordinator to work with and with the help of other crew members, the scenes were mapped out so that it wasn’t too much improv or guessing on your part. 

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     The first intimate scene you shot actually happened to be the one at the end of the movie. That scene was more tame and dealt with more emotional subtexts than physical. Since you filmed that one first, you went into filming the next one with more confidence. It only took a few days to get the first scene down to perfection, so with this newfound confidence, it shouldn’t take too long to get the next one done. 

     On the days you shot intimate scenes, you only needed to wear the costume you wore before the scene and then you changed into a robe with nude underwear underneath. The bits with the outfit on before were already shot, so the director called a 30 minute break until you could begin shooting the actual sex part. 

     You were standing by the snack table, eyes scanning the table for any more muffins leftover from breakfast. The robe you wore made your skin prickle whenever a draft came onto set. 

     Just as you had found the muffin you were looking for, a pair of warm hands covered your eyes. 

     “Guess who!” An all too familiar warm, British accentuated, voice called. 

      You turned around in his arms, effectively nudging his hands from your face, and soon you were met with the warmest hazel eyes. Eyes that you missed so much this past month. 

      “Tommy!” You squealed and thrusted yourself into him in a hug. He immediately reciprocated it and wrapped your body in warmth. “What’re you doing here?” You asked once you let go of him. 

      “Harrison gave me the location so I could come watch you film. I just got home, like, two days ago.” Tom eyed you up and down, not realizing what little you had on. “Um—are you wearing anything under that?” He pointed up and down your figure. 

     “Nope, today and tomorrow we’re scheduled to film the sex scene.” You said casually, doing a silly twirl. Tom gulped. 

     “A s-sex scene?” He choked, “I didn’t know you guys had one.” 

     “Yup,” you smirked, “two actually, this is my first one ever, Haz’s too, I think. Well actually, we filmed the sex scene at the end of the movie last week.” 

     “Yeah… t-that’s cool.” Tom smiled weakly. 

     Right as you were about to continue your conversation with Tom, an arm swung over your shoulder and pulled you close. Harrison smiled at the both of you. He wore a similar robe to yours, except he left the front open. His plaid boxers on full display. 

     “Don’t listen to her, Tom. She’s a natural.” Harrison pinched your cheeks. Tom clenched his jaw at the comment. He knew Harrison hadn't meant to imply anything with it, but he couldn't help but hear the hidden meaning behind the otherwise innocent compliment. 

      You giggled and pushed his hand away, “Only ‘cus my scene partner is so darn cute.” You retaliated, poking and tickling his pecs. 

      This kind of goofy banter was normal between you and Harrison, but Tom hadn’t seen either of you in so long. He also had never seen you two interact so fluently with each other. He watched the interaction with a tight-lipped smile, nodding along and shrugging every once in a while to seem like he was paying attention. In reality though, he couldn’t pry his thoughts away from how close you were to Harrison. 

     “Ok everyone! Places! Let’s wrap this scene up and put it to rest today!” Your director called. You and Harrison smiled and waved goodbye to Tom. Harrison pointed to a chair in the room that had a nice view of the set where Tom could watch. Tom nodded and walked over to the chair, enthusiasm for watching you work completely dissipating. 

     The scene started off rough right off the bat. The second the director said ‘Action!’ you and Harrison were practically pouncing on each other. Harrison had you pressed up against the wall and you were both breathing heavily. He was leaving sloppy, wet kisses down your neck, then across your collar bones. Your moans, which Tom always imagined to sound like music to his ears, sounded too real for his liking. But no matter how much he tried to look away, his eyes were glued to the two bodies moving fluidly with one another. 

     “Cut! Cut!” The director yelled, effectively ending the scene. You and Harrison pulled apart and he gave you a peck on the cheek, as in saying ‘good job’. “That was good, but Harrison,” The blonde nodded, awaiting further instruction. “You gotta be a little rougher, hm?” 

     Harrison nodded along with the critique. “(Y/N)?” the director moved his attention to you, “would it be okay if Harrison marked you up? Just a few hickeys to really sell the illusion. We can do without, though, if you feel uncomfortable.” 

     Tom overheard the interaction and internally hoped that you were too uncomfortable for that, but deep down he knew you would do it. You were never the type to stray away from a challenge. 

     “Yeah, that’s fine.” You nodded, chest still heaving from the scene. You looked at Harrison. “Is that okay with you?” 

     Harrison nodded, a shy smile tugging at his lips. Yeah, you guys have been working at this scene for days now, but he’d never been rough enough to leave marks. He’d be lying if he said the thought didn’t invigorate him. 

     So the scene started from the top, you pressed up against the wall, all your weight shoved between the flimsy wall of the set and Harrison’s strong arms. Harrison did exactly as the director required, leaving noticeable dark spots across the top of your chest. Unlike your previous moans, which had just been for show, this new roughness in his actions tore real moans from your lips. 

     Tom sat uncomfortably in his chair, wishing he picked a different day to visit you on set. He shifted around, watching twin moans pull from both you and Harrison’s throat. He watched as you nipped at Harrison's ear as he faux thrusted into you. The jealousy that had pitted itself in his stomach soon turned to self-loathing. You looked really into the scene, he couldn’t help but feel like he was intruding. He knew you were a great actress, but he couldn’t believe that this was all acting. In his eyes, he believed that some part of you must wish that this was real. And part of you did like this scenario, but you wouldn’t have picked Harrison to be opposite you in this little fantasy. 

     Your moans and Harrisons both grew louder, leading up to the climax as scripted. Tom, not wanting to watch anymore exited the set quickly before he could watch the scene end. 

     You and Harrison finished up, gaining applause and praise afterwards from the director and crew members on set. 

     “Where’s Tom?” You asked, scrambling back into your robe and smoothing out your now roughed up hair. 

     Harrison, now noticing the absence of his best friend, began to feel a bit guilty. He knew Tom had a thing for you, maybe he should’ve told Tom not to visit set today. 

     “Um, (Y/N)?” He mumbled, pulling you aside slightly. 

     “Yeah?” You still looked around for Tom a bit, heart sinking when you realized that he must've left without saying goodbye. 

      “I shouldn’t be the one telling you this,” Harrison began, drawing your full attention, “but Tom really likes you. He always downplayed it, so I didn’t realize how much, but I think watching this scene might’ve upset him a bit.” Harrison looked towards the exit, no doubtedly where Tom left through, out into the parking lot. 

     “Oh—oh!” You gasped, feeling terribly for having put Tom in such an awkward position. “I didn’t know he felt the same.” You whispered, smiling softly to yourself. Guess Z was right after all. You pulled away from Harrison, “I’ll go talk to him.” 

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      Tom didn’t go far. He still wanted to be there to support you; he didn’t want to come off as a jealous prick, but he couldn’t keep watching that intimacy between you and his best friend. He sat on the curb outside of the building the set was built in. A few people passed him going to their designated buildings on the lot, but he didn’t pay any mind to them, too lost in his thoughts. He needed to tell you sooner rather than later how he felt. No time to be a pussy anymore. 

     “Tom?” You walked up next to his sitting figure, still only in a robe, tightly wrapped around you. He looked up to acknowledge you, mumbling a soft ‘Hey.’ before looking back down, trying to collect his thoughts and courage. It’s now or never. 

     You sat beside him and rested your head on his shoulder. “Harrison told me something interesting in there,” You paused for a moment before continuing, “about you.” 

     Tom’s head shot up, and he looked at you with frantic eyes, only imagining the worse. There were too many things Harrison could’ve told you about Tom to sully your image of him. 

     “Whatever it was, he's a lying prick!” Tom rushed out. 

     You giggled, lifting your head up to look him in the eyes, his dark hazel eyes boring into yours. 

     “That’s a shame then,” You shrugged, “considering I like you too.” 

     Tom breathed out a sigh of relief, before looking back at you, doing a double take. 

    “Wait, what?” 

     “Mhm, yeah.” You said casually, standing up. “But since Harrison’s a liar then I suppose he was wrong.” You teased. 

     “No!” Tom grabbed your wrist and pulled you back next to him, but his aim was a bit off and you ended up in his lap. “He lies about a lot, but not about this.”

     You smiled at him, “I should hope not, considering I’m crazy about you.” 

     Tom couldn’t help the smile that beamed across his face, but then he noticed the marks left on you by Harrison. Remembering why he was insecure in the first place, he looked away. 

     “What about Harrison?” He asked. You looked at him utterly confused. Tom caught on and explained further. “You looked like you were really into that scene with him.” 

     You giggled and pinched Tom’s cheek, turning it red. “I’m an actress, you idiot.”

     Tom scoffed, “I know that. It’s just— I didn’t realize you could fake that kind of love.” 

     You looked at Tom’s downcast face. You leaned in and kissed his neck, just under his jaw. You nipped and sucked softly, leaving a nice, dark pink blotch that would go away in a few days under his jaw and he whimpered softly.

     “I’d never fake that kind of love with you.” You grabbed his face, holding it gently in your hands. “I’d never have to.” You whispered, pulling him in for a kiss, soft and sweet. 

     Tom pulled you closer, resting a hand on the small of your back, kissing back fervently. 

     The short make-out session being cut short by the door to the set bursting opened. Harrison rushing out, now dressed in slacks and a white button up for the next scene you needed to shoot that day. 

     “(Y/N)! Hair and makeup need you.” You lugged yourself off of Tom’s lap, promising to talk to him after you finished for the day. You went back inside, jokingly blowing a kiss to Harrison on your way. 

     Harrison stayed outside and sat next to Tom. 

     “Did she confess first?” He asked after a moment of silence. 

     “Yup.” Tom smiled happily, licking his lips, tasting the strawberry chapstick he saw you put on earlier. 

     “You owe me 10 pounds then, you wimp.” 

     “Oh, fuck off.” Tom groaned, promptly pulling ten pounds out of his wallet and handing it to Haz. 

[mimisempai]

I can read you like an open book

Summary:

5 times where Loki refuses to see that he has been found out by Mobius and once where he accepts it

Lokius has so much potential. How not to be tempted?

🌈 Happy Pride month ! 🌈

To celebrate, 1 day, 1 story.

Be ready for smiles, laugh, fluff, tooth rotthing fluff, positive vibes and a lot of love!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32034121

1798 words - Rating G

1.

"I'm Agent Mobius, by the way."

I don't care about your name. I'm Loki, God of Mischief, you moron!

The man with the ridiculous mustache looked suspiciously innocent.

Loki asked him in his most indifferent tone, "Are you taking me somewhere to kill me?"

The man, Mobius, answered in the quietest way possible, "No. That's where you just were. I'm taking you some place to talk."

Loki harrumphed and retorted, "I don't like to talk.

Without losing his smile, Mobius replied, "But you do like to lie, which you just did."

Seeing that Loki didn't bother to answer, he continued, a cheeky sparkle in his eye, "Because we both know you love to talk."

He had the audacity to add, emphasizing his words with his hands, "Talkie-talkie."

Loki was boiling inside, but he wouldn't allow this jerk to see his anger.

How could this fool have seen through to him? No way!

Yes he liked to talk! So what? He had a voice so he might as well use it. At least he never said stupid things.

Sure, he liked to twist the truth, but when you're the god of mischief, was that so surprising?

Anyway, nobody had discovered his biggest secret, his biggest lie, that was the most important.

He discreetly scanned the man in front of him who now seemed a little less inoffensive.

2.

They were in a room devoid of any decor, sitting face to face, separated by a table.

Loki decided to attack. He could be accused of lying, but not of not facing the truth.

He asked Mobius with a defiant look, "What do you want from me?"

Mobius inhaled, as if to give himself courage, "Well, let's start with a little cooperation."

No, that's not going to happen, buddy.

Loki was a god and a god doesn't cooperate.

He replied with a smirk, "Not my forte.

There he was again, that piercing blue-gray gaze that seemed to see much more than Loki believed. Accompanied by that smile that gauged him.

"Really?"

Mobius paused and for a moment Loki thought he knew how to stage himself as well as Loki.

The rascal continued, "Even when you're wooing someone powerful you intend to betray?"

How could he know that? Nobody knew about Thanos! Even Thor didn't know about it!

Don't show anything Loki! Don't show him he's right.

The bastard insisted, as if it were insignificant. "Come on."

Loki, took his most superior and closed look before answering.

"You don't know anything about me."

That's it, move on you moron!

"Maybe I'd like to learn."

What?

What does he mean, he'd like to learn?

No way, Loki wouldn't be fooled.

No one really wanted to know who Loki was.

Those who wanted to know him only wanted it to get something out of him.

He wouldn't be fooled by that smile and that look. Even though...

He shook his head not to let such thoughts linger

3.

Since Mobius seemed to want to know his theory so badly, Loki was more than happy to explain it to him, it was time to show off as much as he could with his jumpsuit.

He straightened his head and said in an emphatic tone, "For nearly every living thing, choice breeds shame and uncertainty and regret. There's a fork in every road, yet the wrong path is always taken."

He looked at Mobius defiantly.

So you're not such a smartass now, huh?

"Good. Yeah."

He had the nerve!

Loki was right not to believe that this man really wanted to know him, it was just to taunt him and put him in his place.

Mobius continued, "You said nearly every living thing ," he paused, and once again his eyes seemed to see further than Loki wanted to show.

He added, cheekily, "so I'm guessing you don't fall into that category?

Show nothing. Show nothing.

You didn't expect anything, Loki, so you're not disappointed.

Loki began to snicker. Sarcasm, one of his favorite weapons.

"The Time-Keepers have built quite the circus, and I see the clowns are playing their parts to perfection."

In case you didn't understand, I'm talking about you, the clown, that's you, buffoon!

Mobius started to laugh. A totally genuine laugh.

"Big metaphor guy. I love it."

Genuine but derisive of course.

The rascal continued, "Makes you sound super smart."

Loki couldn't let it go and retorted, "I am smart."

"I know."

Two words, and the tone was no longer taunting.

I know.

Two words said in a firm voice, without a smile, with an intense look in his eyes.

I know.

For once Loki didn't bother to wrap his words in circumlocutions, too disturbed by the implication of those two words. He simply replied, "Okay."

4.

Loki didn't know what Mobius' goal was in showing him his failures, but if it was to piss him off, he had achieved it, yet Loki was not going to show him.

Just as he was not going to show him how his questions affected him.

"Do you enjoy hurting people?"

No.

"Making them feel small?

No .

"Making them feel afraid?"

No. Stop. Answer him Loki.

"Your games don't frighten me."

But Mobius didn't seem to want to stop.

"Making them feel little?"

Loki couldn't help but retort with more vehemence, "I know what I am."

Mobius raised an eyebrow and asked defiantly, "A murderer?"

Knowing that if he let go, he would show Mobius how much he was affected by what he said, Loki shot back, "A liberator."

And the man had the audacity to reply, "Of eyeballs, maybe."

His words were accompanied on the screen by a video that showed Loki cutting out a man's eye.

Mobius continued, "Look at that smile. You are enjoying that. Did you enjoy hurting them?"

No. No. No. It was the mind stone. It wasn't me.

No! Shut up Loki! No one can know, not even him, get a grip!

Chin up, straight face, sardonic smile.

"I don't have to play this game. I'm a god."

Yes, that's what I am, a god. You won't take that away from me.

"Of what, again? Mischief, right?"

So what? I may not summon thunder, but I am powerful. In my own way.

The man then added, "Yeah. I don't see anything very mischievous about this."

Of course, since it wasn't him. But how could he tell anyone that he, the great Loki, had been under the influence of someone, that he had been manipulated by a stone.

He replied in a bitter voice, "No, I don't suppose you do."

Mobius sighed. He seemed almost disappointed.

Loki wondered why he felt a tightness in his chest. The same one he felt every time he knew he had disappointed his mother. The difference was that he had only known Mobius for a few hours.

5.

Loki was devastated.

His mother had died. She had died by his hand. At least because of him.

Mobius had continued to confront him with his failings.

Sitting on the floor, Loki no longer had the strength to stand up or fight back.

"You weren't born to be king, Loki."

Of course I was.

Even he was beginning not to believe it anymore.

"You were born to cause pain and suffering and death. That's how it is, that's how it was, that's how it will be. All so that others can achieve their best versions of themselves."

He looked up at the screen where the Avengers were displayed one by one. The instruments of his defeat. The defeat he felt burning right now.

He asked with a broken voice, "What is this place?"

Mobius didn't answer, just walked over and held out his hand and said, "Come on."

No more taunting in his voice, no more mockery, just compassion? Loki looked up to see if what he heard in the voice was showing on the other man's face.

He read the same compassion.

Weakened by what he had just discovered about his mother, Loki found himself wanting to grasp that hand, to believe what he read in those eyes.  For a moment, he listened to himself, grabbed the hand and stood up.

But he was Loki, God of Mischief, so he snatched the small device from Mobius' pocket

+1

"Loki?"

Mobius had just come back into the room, Loki was distraught.

Sitting on the floor with his hands in his head, he raised it at the sound of his tormentor's voice.

The man approached him gently and said, "Nowhere left to run."

I don't want to go. I don't want to go anymore. I don't want to be that Loki anymore. I don't want to go back.

"I can't go back, can I? Back to my timeline."

Can I be me here? Really me? What I want to be.

For the first time since he knew himself, Loki felt a compulsion to tell the truth.

Looking Mobius in the eye, he said softly, "I don't enjoy hurting people."

He paused, "I..." he exhaled sharply and repeated again, "I don't enjoy it."

For the first time, he really wanted to convince someone that he wasn't the monster everyone thought he was. Now that he had started talking, it was like he couldn't stop. He continued, "I do it because I have to, because I've had to."

Mobius looked at him with those caring eyes he had had earlier and another feeling he couldn't read.

He replied softly, "Okay, explain that to me."

Loki swallowed, this was the moment of truth.

"Because it's part of the illusion. It's the cruel, elaborate trick conjured by the weak to inspire fear."

Mobius simply nodded, before adding in a tone filled with understanding, "A desperate play for control. You do know yourself."

Loki bit his lip and added in a breath, "A villain."

He exhaled again.

"That's not how I see it.

Once again Mobius held out his hand to help him up, and this time Loki didn't hesitate to take it. Once on his feet, he didn't want to let go of that hand, the only non-violent human contact he'd had in years. He didn't even realize that he was tightening his fingers on Mobius'.

He asked the question that had been burning in his mind, "If I'm not the villain, then what am I?"

They still hadn't let go of each other's hands and now Mobius' thumb was gently stroking the back of Loki's hand.

Mobius tilted his head a little, seeking Loki's gaze even more.

He said with that smile that Loki was beginning to appreciate, "I don't know, but we could search together, if you want."

Loki nodded slowly and answered with a slight smile. The first sincere smile devoid of any trickery.

The real Loki smile. _________

Not beta'd I hope you enjoyed it 🥰

[chronicallylatetotheparty]

Float Like A Butterfly... Chapter 5: So Last Season

Summary: Now that Adrien is no longer Chat Noir he doesn't have to get hit all the time. Unfortunately, his luck doesn't seem to have gotten the memo... Or has it?

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

"So, how're you holding up?"

"Please, Adrien, it's my mother! I'm positively ecstatic!"

"Exactly. It's your mother."

Chloe looked down for a second before her eyes snapped back up, any doubts she had hidden in an instant. "She's finally coming back! I'll finally be able to show her what she's been missing." Chloe tossed her ponytail back to emphasize the unspoken Me. "Now, I've gotta go. Sabrina insisted we do an 'emotional support routine' or whatever beforehand. Ciao!"

Sighing, Adrien stared at his phone for a moment before putting it down. He knew Chloe was grateful for Sabrina's help but it was still a struggle getting her to admit it.

Or getting her to admit how much Audrey had hurt her.

It was one thing to travel halfway around the world for your career and leave your daughter behind. It was something else entirely to completely ignore her. In all the years since Audrey left Chloe hadn't received a single birthday gift, phone call or text message. Adrien would know. Chloe would've bragged about it endlessly if her mother had taken so much as two seconds to acknowledged her existence-

Adrien's foot jerked, striking the vanity table and making the connected mirror tremble. Heart suddenly pounding against his chest as tension built up in his forehead. Distressed expression reflecting back at him.

Breathe, Adrien. Breathe.

Slowly, he inhaled.

Then exhaled.

Again.

Good.

He was okay.

Adrien was okay.

Guilt pricked like a thorn for thinking of his own problems when Chloe needed him. Adrien crushed it with his anger and annoyance but it was still there. Like a splinter that wouldn't come out.

I hate you.

Swiping out of the video chat Adrien tapped on Nino's number. It rang... and rang... and rang...

He's annoyed with me. I did something wrong again and Nino doesn't want to-

Adrien smacked both sides of his face. No, dummy! Nino's just busy or something. Stop that!

It wasn't every day a teenage DJ provided the music for Paris Fashion Week, after all. Nino had to make sure all his equipment was working properly.

The door to his dressing room burst open.

"Adrien, your friend Mlle. Dupain-Cheng will be bringing the last article of the new Gabriel line," Nathalie announced. "Your father expects everything to be perfect for Audrey Bourgeois."

"Doesn't he always?" Adrien deadpanned.

Nathalie stared at his watery eyes before typing something into her tablet. "Your performance on catwalks only has a 99% success rate. He expects you'll do better."

Father thinks you're a failure just like everyone else. He-

Shut up! Adrien felt something heavy settle in his chest.

One of the makeup artists came rushing in and Nathalie gestured her towards Adrien. "Touch up his eyes," she instructed and then left.

Jaw clenching, Adrien sat perfectly still as the makeup artist did her job. He was never entirely sure what the staff thought about him. 'Professional' was a word that was tossed around a lot. That used to fill him with a little pride... Before all of this.

The last person to suggest that a thirteen year old mourning his mother wasn't 'professional' so much as he was 'depressed' had never come back to work... Oh. Adrien had forgotten about that.

Finishing quickly, the makeup artist left too. Leaving Adrien with his thoughts. He didn't want to be with his thoughts at the moment. They were distracting and Nathalie had not been subtle.

I hate-

His phone vibrated as it received someone's text.

Ni-Non: hey dude!

Ni-Non: it's crazy over here man

Ni-Non: break a leg! ;)

Adrien smiled as his unpleasant mood faded to the back of his mind... And if he saw similarities between his family and Chloe's, well, that's why he could empathize with her.

Adrien: That's theater but I guess there's not much difference.

Adrien: Thanks. ^_^

 ---------------

There was a knock at his door. Adrien stopped fidgeting in the awkward suit to go answer it.

"Hello, Marinette." Adrien smiled in greeting.

"Oh, uh, hello!" Marinette gave a small wave as she stepped up the short stairs and-

Adrien braced himself with one foot while his hands went to her shoulders. Steadying Marinette as she quickly removed her weight from him.

"Oh! Uh, sorry." Marinette looked away in embarrassment at having tripped into him.

"... No worries!" Adrien smiled as he shook his head. Marinette seemed... subdued. Reaching down to pick up the hat that had fallen. "Oh, no." The artificial feather Marinette made for his allergies had come loose. "I hope it's not too hard to fix it."

Marinette looked down. "Uh, y'know, it doesn't really matter. This hat is a complete failure anyway."

"What? No, it's not!" Adrien rose to his feet quickly in shock. "Why would you say that?"

"Because... the queen of fashion, Audrey Bourgeois, saw it and hated it!" Marinette's hands covered her face, voice breaking. "I'm sorry, Adrien. I really messed up. I'm a total no talent!" Her arms wrapped around herself in a hug. "Please, don't put it on," she pleaded.

Adrien's heart went out to Marinette as she laid her insecurities bare. "Marinette, everything's going to be fine." He searched for the proper spot to reattach the feather,  fiddling with it as Adrien reassured her. "Your hat looks great. I think it's awesome and so does... my father." Adrien cleared his throat as he managed to fix her hat. "Otherwise he wouldn't have picked it for me. Look!"

Putting Marinette's hat on Adrien walked across the dressing room like he was already performing. Striking a few poses to ease Marinette's anxiety. "See?"

It seemed to work as Marinette gave a small smile. "You got that catwalk down," she complimented.

Adrien rubbed the back of his neck. "Really? Thank you."

"Ah-hem," Nathalie cleared her throat. "We have to go." Without waiting for Marinette she turned on her heel and started walking towards the viewing area.

Adrien rolled his eyes but smiled at Marinette's back as she hurried to catch up. Turning back to look at himself in the mirror Adrien scanned his outfit. The suit may have been generic and a few seams too close to last year's entry but Marinette's hat was fire.

"Okay!" Adrien was gonna go out there and make sure they recognized Marinette's talent!

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

Holding Marinette's hat to his chest Adrien stuck his head out in a decidedly 'unprofessional' manner. Spotting Marinette's family and a bunch of his friends in the first row. Adrien's blond head caught Nino's eye from across the catwalk and he gave him a thumbs up.

Adrien waved as he ducked back behind the corner before the photographers could take any pictures of the Agreste heir acting like a kid.

You got this, Adrien. Nino's DJ-ing, your classmates came -even though most of them don't care about fashion- with any luck Alix and Kim will tease you about it for the next month.

That would give Adrien the opportunity to dish out a bunch of jokes he never got the chance to use!

The music started; that was his cue.

You got this!

Adrien posed on the runway. Camera flashes already starting. Strutting down the catwalk Adrien smirked at Marinette. See? Stopping at the platform's end he posed in various angles for the photographers. Nino seemed to be enjoying himself too and that made Adrien's smile come much more naturally.

A small eruption boomed behind him and Adrien turned to see Hawkmoth's latest fashion disaster. Gasping, as his heart started hammering in his chest.

"A fashion show without the Queen of Style!? Glitter-ally unacceptable!" The akuma villain announced. "Where's that ungrateful Gabriel Agreste. I demand that he kneels before me!"

Ugh, what has he done now?

"My father isn't here," Adrien snapped in annoyance. Hearing people running for the exits.

"Well, then. If fashion disaster daddy isn't here I'll just have to settle for Agreste Junior! You're fired!"

Adrien's eyes widened as he stepped back. Golden glitter exploding everywhere as his body became numb and his senses dark-

-Glowing ladybugs swirled around him as Adrien had the disorienting feeling of laying  down when he could've sworn he'd been standing. Glancing around, Adrien realized he was now at the Eiffel Tower.

"Adrik- Adrien!" Chloe tackled him as he stood, throwing her arms around him. "I was so scared!"

Adrien blinked in surprise as Chloe set her head on his shoulder. Not letting him go... Adrien smiled as he hugged her back. Enjoying this genuine display of affection.

"Pound it!"

Head snapping towards the sound Adrien saw another Black Cat, this one a girl with long, reddish hair, fist bump Ladybug. They grinned at each other in post battle relief.

I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!

A chill to rival Frozer's ice covered Adrien from head to toe. It was one thing to see Ladybug working with a different Black Cat on the news. Quite another to have his replacement. Three. Frickin. Meters. In front of him!

Chloe didn't notice... Or rather Adrien didn't notice when she'd let go to help her mother. Who tried to fire her own daughter as thanks.

Adrien jerked his eyes away from the superhero duo-

I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!

-Away from the Miraculous holders and forced himself to listen to whatever the Bourgeois were saying. Ears ringing as Ladybug and the Black Cat talked about something behind him...

"Oh, mom. If only you knew what a great team we made!" Chloe trailed after her mother as they walked down the tower's stairs; attempting to capture her attention. "We fired a bunch of incompetents. It was awesome. We should really spend more time together! What if I went back to New York with you?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Casserole- Eh, Chloe!" Audrey dismissed. "First I have to get back to Gabriel Agreste's fashion show. And they better..."

Adrien's eyes narrowed as he looked down from the railing, his grip on it tightening. Heat from a growing indignation melting the ice he felt. What did she just call Chloe?

"Adrien Agreste, right? I can give you a lift back if you want."

His tensed body jerked in surprise as Adrien realized Ladybug was standing right behind him. Throat and chest constricting as his thoughts whirled. Spots darkened his vision as he felt lightheaded. Adrien's knuckles becoming white, the metal railing digging into his skin. A single thought rose above the ringing in his ears.

I don't wanna talk to her.

Giving his best model smile, Adrien schooled his features. "Ah, thanks but-" he pointed down, "-I should really check on them."

"O-oh! Of course!"

Ladybug's face was out of focus but Adrien could still feel the melancholy in her voice.

Powering past his queasy stomach Adrien made his way to the stairs. The sound of Ladybug's yo-yo whirring reached his ears; signaling her departure. Adrien took a shuddering gasp as he leaned against a metal pillar for support. Body suddenly limp.

Breath accelerating Adrien tried to calm himself. Why was he up here? Had- Had Audrey's blast mind controlled him? Again!? He couldn't breathe.

Adrien sank to his knees as he felt his skin crawl at the idea of that- that- asshole reaching into his mind and taking away his free will. He hated it! He HATED it!

Gasping as his rage broke him out of the panic, Adrien steadied his breathing... He wanted- no, needed to know what happened... Which meant getting up and moving forward... Forcing himself to his feet Adrien wiped the sweat from his brow and followed the others down.

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

"Remind me to tell your father to fire the person in charge of the Eiffel Tower elevators..." Audrie panted. "This is... unacceptable... utterly unacceptable!"

"Of course, mom. Oh!" Chloe glanced down to see what she'd stumbled on.

Adrien looked up as he fanned himself with Marinette's hat.

And dropped it.

He stared open mouthed at the small, black, octagonal box in Chloe's hands. Heartbeat leaping into his throat.

What the hell is THAT doing here!?

"Ooh! What's this?" Chloe turned the box around in her hands but didn't open it.

Adrien suddenly forgot his exhaustion and rushed to her side. The lie coming easily to his lips. "Oh, I recognize that! They sell them at antique shops."

"Ew, it's old! Get it away from me!" Chloe practically hurled it at Adrien.

Catching it easily. A thrill ran up Adrien's arms and down his spine as the box made contact with his skin. The hairs at the back of his neck standing on end.

Chloe dusted her hands and kept walking. Glancing nervously at her mother. Hoping Audrey hadn't seen her with something so outdated.

I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! The voice in his head said.

Shut up, Adrien told it as he stared at the unknown Miraculous in his hand. Heartbeat hammering in his chest. But it wasn't from fear. No, it was... anticipation.

The corners of Adrien's lips curled upwards.

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

Notes: Oh, would you look at that. I'm back! It only took... eight months!

[page-doctor-bekker]

Italy Inn - superstar!au

(a/n) platonic rhekker >>

-

-

Connor hugged Ava outside of the restaurant, and held her tight for a few moments, "That was a terrifying video."

Ava nodded, giving a half-hearted chuckle as she pulled away, "It was a lot. There's a lot that the media is getting wrong, or just making up."

"I don't read tabloids to get my information, Ava, you know me."

The two were seated at a secluded table in the corner of the restaurant. The average dining guest wouldn't be able to see whether someone was in the booth, much less recognize who was in the booth.

"How did Jaffrey take all of this?" Connor questioned, once drinks were well on their way.

Ava snorted, "Terribly. Had a meeting yesterday, I've got a fake dating situation heading my way."

Connor fake-gagged, "Gross. Who with?"

"Give you one guess. Model-influencer turned singer-songwriter."

"No way."

"Yeah, Sarah Reese," Ava took a bite of complimentary bread slathered in butter, "I don't think I know anyone that's worked with her."

"I mean, I worked near her like four years ago on a Gucci shoot, but that wasn't really together and there's been nothing since then," Connor shrugged, spreading butter on a piece of his own bread, "She seemed fine back then, though."

"Wow, glowing review for someone I'm about to date. Thanks, Connor, you've really comforted my fears," She rolled her eyes, "But, I don't know, all I need to do is pretend to date her, speak highly of her, and have her on tour. I don't have to love her, I just have to work with her."

"It helps to not hate the people you work with, though. How long will you be together?"

"I don't know," Ava groaned, "It's TBD. We really only have a fleshed out plan for the next, what, two weeks?"

"When do you go public?"

"Sometime during pride month, that's all I know," The waiter brought their drinks: A bottle of some sort of red wine for them to share, a coke for Ava, and a glass of water for Connor.

"I don't understand how you can pair soda with wine," Connor shook his head, sipping the maroon liquid, "Weirdo."

"Can't say no to a good coke," Ava shrugged, "Plus, all they had was lukewarm apple juice in the psych ward. Let me have this."

"I suppose I can make an exception. Anyways, 'sometime during pride month' isn't too long from now. June's in like, a week and a half. So you've got what, a month at most?"

"I will enjoy my month of freedom, thank you very much," She said, sarcastically, "Just kidding, we have to do this whole build-up to make it seem real."

"Hm, what's the schedule look like?"

"Well, this week I have two talk shows, and some charity event for the therapy dog organization that works with the hospital I was in, and then next week Sarah and I have our first outing, another talk show, another outing, another talk show, and then a few more outings before we announce the song we're doing together, do some talk shows, and then go public. Busy."

"Busy," Connor agreed, "What shows?"

"This week? Hot on Humpday and The Saturday Grapevine."

"Hah, you're interviewing with Doris? That'll be good!"

"Good? More like obnoxious and intrusive. Whatever though, I'm supposed to be as open as possible so nobody thinks I'm trying to hide anything."

"Are you going to lie or tell the truth?" Connor inquired, sipping on his wine.

"I'm going to tell the truth: I was sick, now I'm better," She shrugged, stuffing her face with bread.

"You've been sick for a long time, Ava."

"Yeah, but now I'm better."

They ordered their meals shortly after. Lasagna for Ava, a childhood favorite, and Melanzane di Parmigiana for Connor.

"I don't understand how you can enjoy eggplant," Ava made a face, "That alone would be enough to send me back to the mental illness prison."

Connor laughed, "It's an acquired taste! You have to eat it multiple times before you enjoy it."

"Yeah, I'm not a masochist, sorry."

"So what about your real love life?" Connor pried after a moment.

"I met and slept with this chick this last weekend at a party," She sipped her coke, "She was fine I think, I don't know, and I got her number but I don't think I'm going to do anything else with her."

"They really do just fall at your feet, don't they?" Connor looked off, surveying the restaurant, "You could probably put together an orgy just in this restaurant."

"Ugh, don't even get me started about it," Ava rolled her eyes sarcastically, "Being sexy is such a burden."

Connor choked on his water, coughing up a storm. Ava laughed, throwing several napkins at him and earning dirty looks from some of the finer patrons of the restaurant.

"You're awful," Connor remarked, regaining his breath, "You're going to get us kicked out."

A short while later, their meals arrived. Ava rolled her eyes in ecstasy when she tasted her food, "After the psych ward, everything tastes like heaven. And I can use a fork."

Connor shook his head with a smile, "I still wouldn't trust you with a fork."

They ate quietly for a few minutes, occasionally sipping their drinks or wiping their faces of sauce.

"You should have visited," Ava looked up from her meal at him, "You would have thought it was hilarious."

Connor hesitated, "I wasn't allowed to."

"What? Why?"

"I don't know, Downey wouldn't even tell me where you were being kept, or even a phone number. I guess Jaffrey didn't want anyone visiting you, they were worried that it would tip off the press."

Ava hummed, "That makes sense, I guess," She poked at her food, "Shame. Whatever, I'll live."

"You wish you wouldn't."

"Connor, that was wildly inappropriate. What would you do if I actually killed myself?"

"Cry, probably."

[mrfeenysmustache]

Some Family is Found

Summary: A collection of vignettes about the Higurashi family, from Single Dad Souta, schoolyard fights, blended family of three then four, and learning to let go and let fate take control.

"Papa Souta!"

Yanked from sleep with a harsh gasp, Souta was already half rolled out of bed and running before his eyes had fully opened. He knew that tone, scared and frail and small, and his body had become well trained over the last year to respond to it immediately.

He dashed quickly from his room to hers, throwing open the door and flinging himself inside right to her little bed where she sat wide eyed and terrified much like she had been when he'd first laid eyes on her.

"Towa! I'm here. You're safe. It was just another nightmare."

No sooner had he sat next to her had she thrown herself into his arms, shaking and snuggling while he crooned wordlessly and petted her soft, white hair.

The first time she'd called him Papa had been a night just like this one. A handful of months passed with her in his care and every night she woke in a fright, babbling about sisters and fires and someone named Setsuna. She'd clung to him just this way, rubbed her sniffling little nose into his shoulder and called him Papa with a shaky sigh that bound his heart right up.

Her nightmares came further apart from that night on, but every once in a while he was still needed to chase away the darkness.

"It's okay, it will all be alright." He shushed gently, swaying her back and forth while he scratched at her scalp and rubbed her back. Eventually she quieted down and then went limp with sleep again. He tucked her back into her bed, smoothed the hair back from her forehead and smiled at the peace that returned to her little cherub face.

He checked her alarm clock and sighed; it was early enough that she wouldn't normally be up, but his own alarm clock was about to go off, signaling his painfully early study hour. He was almost done with his degree and then waking before the sun could, hopefully, become a thing of the past. With one last look at the sweetly sleeping face of his little daughter, Souta quietly left her room to return to his own.

———

The bell chimed the end of the day and a flurry of tiny bodies rushed passed him, giggling and squealing and eager to leave the school yard behind until tomorrow. Souta gulped and straightened his shoulders before striding across the lawn and entering the doors once the last of the children had filtered out.

He'd spent enough of his own childhood here to know where he was going, and his legs carried him unconsciously to the principals office where he'd been called in for an important meeting.

He steeled himself at the door and took another deep breath before opening it dipping his head in greeting to the principal and eyeing the wilted form of the white haired toddler he'd been asked to come in to discuss.

His heart panged at the sight of her, his normally vibrant girl so small and sad and dejected, one of her pigtails drooping and a bright red scuff mark marring her round cheek.

'Oh no...'

"Higurashi-San, Thank you for coming."

"Of course." He replied, sitting in the empty seat across from the large desk.

A pair of sad red eyes shifted his way and he smiled softly, reassuringly.

The principal finally looked up from her paper work and blinked, looking perplexed before adjusting her glasses.

"I'm so sorry, there must be some confusion, I believe I requested that Towa-Chan's mother or father come in to speak today."

Souta winced internally, but kept his expression genial and placid.

"Yes, you did. There's no confusion. I am Higurashi Souta, Towa-Chan's father."

The principal blinked again and cleared her throat, looking between he and little Towa with a glint in her eye he didn't appreciate.

"My, you certainly look very young to be a father." She said crisply, and Souta bristled and struggled to keep his tone polite.

"I'm sure it doesn't surprise you to know I hear that quite a lot."

"Yes well. Let's get to the point, shall we? Towa-Chan has been exhibiting some shocking behavior of late. We are very concerned."

"As are we, she's made us aware that she's been on the receiving end of some unfair teasing."

The principal sniffed and shuffled her papers before folding her hands primly.

"Be that as it may, we can not tolerate violence against our other children, and Towa has instigated several physical altercations this week alone. Unless something drastic is done, she is risking expulsion."

His eyes widened and he sat up straighter in his seat, meeting the principal's gaze unflinchingly before looking once again on Towa. She still didn't look up, staring at her feet and making herself as small as possible. It broke his heart, and he heaved a sigh before looking back to the principal with a smile.

"I understand. I'll talk with her tonight. Thank you for your time."

He stood and scooped Towa up from her seat. She curled into him and he strode quickly out of the building. He stopped on the stairs to switch her over to his back, and after hooking his arms behind her knees she rested her head against his shoulder and sighed a forlorn sigh.

"I'm sorry Papa Souta. I caused so much trouble."

Her little voice, small and broken, tore into him, and he wondered if he might be doing something wrong.

He knew he was young to be a father, especially to a school aged child like Towa. She was barely six, but he wasn't quite out of university just yet, and was far from the ideal situation for having small, helpless people depending on you. He still had so much to learn himself.

"Don't worry about it Towa-Chan. No one wants to be picked on. You just need to remember your strength. You aren't like the other kids, you're much stronger."

"Okay." It was barely above a whisper, and Souta hated for her to sound like that.

The rest of the journey home was made in heavy silence, but Mama Higurashi swept in to lend her gentle touch and Souta watched Towa brighten a little under her attention.

Cookies and tea and an affectionate pat on the head as her grandmother helped her color a picture soon had Towa back on track and Souta sighed in relief.

"Why don't you go and study for your upcoming final and leave us girls to our own business, hm?"

"Thanks mama."

——

Mama Higurashi tearfully hung the picture she'd taken just a few nights before on the wall, brimming with love and pride.

Souta smiled back from the center of the frame draped in his graduation gown with Towa beaming atop his shoulders, his graduation cap covering her white hair.

It's not what she ever expected the photo of his university graduation would look like, but she glanced at the high school graduation photo of her firstborn daughter and grinned.

Both of her children seemed fated to walk interesting paths that twisted off from the rigid one set in place by society at large.

She couldn't say she was anything but proud.

A squeal of delight drew her attention to the window nearby and she watched indulgently as Souta scooped Towa up before falling to the ground with her, tickling her sides while she laughed and wiggled away.

A thread of worry wrapped around her heart then and she said a silent prayer that this new school year coming up for her would be easier than the last.

A new school, a fresh start, hopefully her granddaughter would fare better with the students at this school than she had before. She was such a dear girl with an unshakable sense of justice that she already couldn't help but fight tooth and nail for.

The sun glowed off her little white pony tails and her smile stretched freely across her face, and Mama Higurashi found herself wondering not for the first time if they hadn't ended up adopting Kagome and Inuyasha's child.

She looked very little like them aside from her hair color, but she certainly had Kagome's sense of right and wrong and Inuyasha's strength to back it up.

The likelihood of that was low, especially as she'd only ever spoken of someone named Setsuna.

"Well, time to call them in for dinner."

———

"I'm sorry Papa Souta. I cause you so much trouble..."

"It's alright Towa. I was thinking this other school would be better for you anyway. They have a wrestling team!"

Her eyes still held a glimmer of uncertainty and guilt, and though he was was stressed and concerned, he didn't want her shouldering such feelings all the time.

He knew she remembered her life before he'd found her on his front lawn, that she'd come from somewhere else before they'd taken her in, before he'd decided raise her as his own child, and he had a suspicion that she feared he might one day grow tired of her escapades and be done with her.

But he just couldn't. She may not have come from him, but she was his.

He was going to stick with her no matter what.

We have to go pick up your uniform next week, they have several colors to choose from, is there one you like best?"

He handed her the brochures and watched her nose scrunch up at the list of pictures of skirts with different colors and numbers of pleats, and bit his lip to keep from laughing outright.

"Um, no, I don't have any preferences."

"You're sure?"

"Anything is fine, really!"

"Alright. Well, have you been practicing with the sword you found with grandpa the other day?"

Suddenly her face lit up like the sun, and Souta sat back and listened while she detailed all the things she'd been practicing that she'd seen on various internet videos.

Her last teacher had admonished him for allowing her to peruse such interests.

'It's wildly unlady like. You should not be encouraging swordplay from a girl who already can't control her violent urges with her peers!'

She'd even thrown in a barb about her lack of a mother.

But while Souta agreed that Towa needed to be less violent while at school, he couldn't imagine discouraging her from the things she loved, even if they weren't the most feminine.

She bounced around the room, showing him some of the swings and stabs she'd nearly mastered and he couldn't help but think her Aunt would be so proud to watch her follow in her footsteps.

———-

"Grammy, when will Papa Souta be home again?"

"Oh much later I think Dear. I'll be tucking you in tonight, is that alright?"

Towa nodded solemnly but then burst into bright giggles when she saw her grandmother pull the secret stash of cookies out from the back of the cleaning cabinet.

"It's a big night Towa, what say we celebrate early?"

Mama Higurashi sat on the couch and let Towa settle in beside her before opening the box and letting her select two.

"One for each hand!" She chirped, smiling up at her, red eyes glimmering. It was their long standing tradition and she cherished how much her rapidly growing granddaughter still enjoyed it. She was now teetering on the edge of childhood, a vibrant girl rapidly approaching her pre-teen years.

"One for each hand my darling."

"So... you think she'll say yes?"

Mama eyed her granddaughter for a moment, but her face was unreadable.

"I do. She's a lovely woman."

"Yeah. She is."

"Do you not wish for her to join the family?"

Towa crunched into her cookie and chewed thoughtfully for a moment.

"It's not that. What if she doesn't like living with me all the time?"

"Oh Towa honey, Moe-Chan loves you! She's probably the most understanding person we've ever known. She's certainly taken everything in stride."

"She makes Papa Souta happy."

"She does. You know most of all he wants you to be happy though, right dear?"

"And I want him to be happy too. So yes, I hope she says yes tonight." Towa replied, leaning into her grandmother's side.

"Can we watch my favorite movie tonight?"

"That awful horror film? No chance young lady!"

Towa erupted into giggles while her grandmother put on calm, soothing movie they both enjoyed, and Towa drifted off into sleep feeling safe and content.

———-

Moe Higurashi hovered awkwardly in the doorway between the kitchen and living room, watching Towa as she sat still as a statue at the dining table, head down and pillowed on her arms. She heaved a tired sigh, and Moe's heart constricted.

She'd known before she married Souta that his daughter had many troubles at school. She was strong and sure and didn't stand aside when others were being mistreated. Thus, she was often a target for those who wanted to prove themselves stronger than her.

Towa had started another new school just this week, and already the fighting had started again. She could practically feel the stress and guilt oozing off her young step-daughter's young shoulders, and she wanted so badly to do something about it without overstepping any boundaries.

An idea struck her and she stepped quietly away to retrieve her violin from her room. Towa had not moved an inch when she returned, and in fact didn't seem to be aware of anything outside of her own troubled thoughts.

Moe hesitated for one more moment before delicately clearing her through and startling Towa out of her funk.

"May I sit here please?"

Towa nodded and watched silently as Moe took the seat across from hers and began tuning the strings of her violin. And then, without a word, she brought the instrument up, held it in place, and pulled the bow across the strings. She played something low and soothing, something that filled the room as well as all the stormy spots in Towa's mind until she felt the tension melt from her.

She put her head back down, but this time Moe noted with pride that her shoulders were noticeably less rigid. She continued to play even after Towa lifted her head and listened with a smile.

———-

There had been many times in the month since bringing his new baby home that Souta thought his heart would burst open with love and pride and happiness, and this time was no different.

Little Mei, still so small and sleepy and new, was reclined comfortably on a soft blanket his mother had knitted. She was fast asleep, swaddled tightly into a little bundle, and Towa had stretched out on the floor next to her, gazing lovingly down at her and running her fingers over the soft, wispy hairs on her head. She was whispering something, something he couldn't quite make out, but the look of devotion on her face toward her new little sister took his breath away. They were as mismatched a set as he'd ever seen. Mei's soft brown hair and eyes contrasted sharply to the burning red of Towa's eyes, or the shock of silver that grew from her head, but they both lived deep inside his heart.

Moe entered from the opposite side of the room from the kitchen with a flour stained apron around her waist.

"There are my girls! Towa, I've brought you a cookie fresh from the oven."

"Thank you Mama Moe." She whispered in return, careful not to wake her sister, and Souta watched Moe valiantly attempt to keep her own emotions in check. He knew how much it meant to her that Towa had grown so close to her.

"Let me know if you need anything."

Moe went back into the kitchen, and Souta took another indulgent moment to watch his daughters begin forging their bond.

————

Souta held his smile until the moment the shining portal winked out of existence, and then his expression fell and he grabbed desperately for his mother's hand.He squeezed it and she responded immediately.

"Souta, what's wrong my son?"

"How-" he gulped around the fear rapidly growing and choking him, watched Moe scoop up a crying Mei, silent tears tracking down her own face, and knew the dam on his emotions would break soon. "How did you do it mama? How did you... how did you let Kagome go over and over and over? How were you always okay with this?!"

Mama sighed and rubbed his back, staring off into nothing for a moment as old fears and anxieties swam back up from the recesses of her memories.

"Come inside my dears, let me make you some tea and try to ease your worries. At least, let me help you try to manage them better than I was able."

Souta hung back until the others had filed inside and looked back at the place his daughter had just disappeared without a trace. He'd watched his sister vault over the well time and again and remembered the distant fears he'd had for her as a child.

But she'd had Inuyasha, his larger than life living legend brother-in-law who he was convinced could beat any opponent conceivable.

This time, he wasn't a child anymore, and this wasn't his sister.

This was his child, one he'd practically grown up with he'd been so young when he'd adopted her.

And though he knew what she was, the very same sort of being his childhood hero was, still he worried.

For her safety, for her wellbeing, for her life.

He closed his eyes, and for a moment he prayed, that she would remain safe and unharmed, that she would find what she was looking for, that she would solve her quest, that she would return to them.

And then he wiped the tears from his face, and turned from the Sacred Tree that had taken her away, and he walked inside, trailing pieces of his heart behind him.

[firemblem-fics]

Smitten Kitten [Finale]

one | two | three | four | finale

-> Pairing: Felix x Female!Reader | Hybrid!AU (mostly platonic idk)

-> Warnings: Abuse mentions, Like Two Sex Jokes, Yelling

-> Genre: Angst, Fluff

-> Word Count: 1.6k

-> Summary: You never wanted to be involved with hybrids. They were risky and had too many rules for you. But what will you do when a little black and white cat that you take in turns out to be the very thing you steered clear of?

-> A/N: Okay so the more i wrote this the more i realized it was more platonic than anything and also it barely fucking features felix and i’m just very unhappy with it i suppose ... maybe in the future i’ll rewrite idk i’m really sorry for this i kinda hate it but i’ve been working on it for so long i didn’t want to make people wait longer

Soon, the bell rang once more and you turned your head, finally making eye contact with those red eyes you'd been longing to see for weeks.

"Fe!" You nearly stumbled forward as you rushed towards the hybrid, your heart leaping as you reached out to-

"Don't touch him!"

Karen's shrill voice was like an invisible wall that was keeping you away from Felix. You almost shrunk back as she yelled, but you stood tall. The Hybrid Services needed to see that you were strong and fully capable of taking care of Felix and you were determined to do just that.

You only looked at Felix expectantly. He went to walk over to you, but was stopped with an extremely harsh tug on his leash. He hissed at Doug, who was talking to an HPS officer with a hardened gaze.

Karen, on the other hand, walked coolly up to you. "What's your problem?" She sneered.

"My problem? You're hurting Felix."

"We're just disciplining him," She rolled her eyes, "Sometimes a savage animal needs a few hits to get the rules in their head. Felix plays too many games that we don't feel like dealing with."

"Then why do you keep him?"

"Have you seen the boy? He's gorgeous. He's won multiple awards and thousands of dollars at Hybrid Shows. A bit of pain is worth the prize."

It was your turn to roll your eyes. "He's gorgeous, yeah? Is that why you felt the need to cover his bruises with makeup? I took care of Felix for two months and he never caused any trouble. He was polite, respectful, thoughtful, and never once did he need to be 'punished'. He's not the problem- you are."

"Why you-"

"Mr. and Mrs..." An officer called the couple away from you. He began showing them all of the messages between you and Felix- proof of their wrongs.

You, on the other hand, turned to the cat-boy and finished what you started, throwing your arms around his torso and squeezing him tightly. In return, Felix only stiffened up. He didn't know where to put his hands, choosing to rest them on your shoulders as his chin laid on the crown of your head. You only got a few seconds of alone time before another pair of arms wrapped around the two of you.

"How sweet, a reunion! I'm sniffing out a kiss and some 'I missed you' sex later on- OW!"

Felix's hand went from your shoulder to Sylvain's stomach, stopping him in his sentence. "Go fuck yourself."

"Only if you watch me~"

You laughed, pulling back from the hug and looking over at Ashe, who was now engaged in a conversation with one of the HPS officers. You were more than thankful to have him at your side. Ashe had gone through the same little trial to get custody of Sylvain, so he was more than willing to help you get Felix out of his shitty situation as well.

Ashe had explained to you how Hybrid cases worked. Evidence would be presented to officers or a Hybrid Facilitator, such as Nancy, and they would make the call as to what happens next. You would be presenting evidence of Karen and Doug’s abuse to them and asking for Felix to be placed in your care. Lucky for you, Felix could speak on your behalf as well since he had stayed with you for two months.

You were scared. Felix was a big boy. He hid his emotions and stayed strong throughout the shit that his owners put him through, but even the strongest people have their limits. Unfortunately for you, Felix was still a hybrid. Legally considered an animal and treated as even less.

You couldn’t give him the freedom that he deserved, but you would try your damn hardest to give him a happy life.

You nearly teared up thinking about it and Felix must have noticed, for amidst his and Sylvain’s bickering he subtly placed his hand on the small of your back. It stayed there when the officers gathered everyone together, letting both sides present their cases. You spoke first.

“Two months ago, I found a little black and white cat in a dumpster. He was cold, hungry, and unhappy. I took him in and learned later on that he was Felix. Felix stayed with me for two months. I was under the presumption that he was kicked out of his old home- that was what he had told me, anyways.” That earned you a glare from the man beside you. “But I sheltered him for about two months, waiting for someone to come looking for him. They never did, so I took him here to get some papers filled out and make him legally… mine.”

You spat out the last word. God, did you hate the idea of having a human as a pet. Felix’s thumb brushed your back again, providing you with his own quiet form of comfort and amping you up to continue.

“I came, got some papers, and left. I should have known that he would have had papers under Doug and Karen’s name, but since I believed that they no longer wanted him, I went ahead and took ownership. Then they came up to my door later that day and took him. He had actually run away from them.

Felix put up a fight at first- he didn’t want to go. I gave him Sylvain, the other hybrid’s, phone so that he could still message me if he needed anything. The minute he left, he sent me a voice recording of those two screaming at him in the car. Since then, all of those messages had been sent as evidence that Karen and Doug have threatened him and harmed him emotionally, verbally, and physically. I want Felix to stay with me. They called him a behavioral issue, but I know how to treat him. I’ve never had an issue with him. Ever. I want full ownership of Felix Hugo Fraldarius.”

Nancy nodded and pointed to the couple, who were fuming on the other side of the room. Karen practically stormed up to Nancy and the officers, her face redder than Sylvain’s hair and voice more annoying than Sylvain himself.

“She obviously stole Felix from us!”

“What the fuck?” Said hybrid suddenly interrupted. An officer shushed him and motioned for Karen to continue.

“Felix is an award-winning, purebred Fraldarius tuxedo cat. He’s won thousands of dollars in prize money and trophies and awards, so of course a lower class girl like her would want such a high end Hybrid. He would win her money. She could have easily turned him into the facility, but she didn’t, so she stole him from us!”’

Karen had a point- you should have turned Felix in, but you couldn’t. The little cat had wormed his way into your heart more and more every day- even if he was kind of an ass in the beginning.

He still is an ass, but a little less now. You knew that when his arm moved from your back to around your shoulders, thumb now soothing the skin there.

“Wh- I didn’t even know he was a show cat until you two showed up and told me!” You defended. His hand gripped tighter as if already trying to hold you back. You were rather ready to tear this lady to shreds, honestly, so he was helping.

“You’re such a little liar- and those videos, too! They’re obviously fake. You don’t deserve Felix, you deserve to be jailed for stealing our precious prize!”

“Prize?! You don’t even see him as a real being with feelings and emotions or anything! Look-“ You suddenly licked your thumb, turning around and swiping underneath Felix’s eye. “He’s got bruises that you gave him and hid. Your face and fist are in that video. I’ve got selfies I took of him and I when he was in my care- there are no injuries, so they obviously happened in your care.”

“And how do they know you didn’t use makeup to hide the bruises you gave him?” Karen accused. God, she really was going the extra mile here. “Listen, little bitch, Felix is ours and he will be if I have to pry it from your little dead fingers.”

“You won’t lay a hand on her.” Felix speaks up. He turns to Nancy and sighs. “I wasn’t going to say anything because my pride heavily prevented me, but I am afraid of Karen and Doug. They have abused me in the last few years that I’ve been in their care and I can’t do it anymore. I can recount every single instance where they have harmed me and I will gladly do it if it means I can get the hell away from them and go with people who actually treat me well.” His face stayed straight as he spoke, his eyes hardened in a desperate attempt to show everyone how he wasn’t affected. Felix never was one to show his feelings- you were proud that he did this.

The officers, who had stayed silent for the entire time, looked at each other.

One sighed and spoke up. “You two are under arrest for Hybrid cruelty and will be investigated further and punished as charged.” He turned to you, “Do you mind if we keep the phone for a while to extract evidence?”

“I mind-“

“Not at all.” You cut off Sylvain, “He can go a little longer without his phone. He needs to go longer.”

The officer thanked you and led the two away, nearly kicking and screaming.

Nancy watched as they left, typing some things into her computer before standing up. “If any of you can follow me to the back, I need to put the proper information on a new collar tag.”

Ashe volunteered and dragged Sylvain back with him, leaving you and Felix alone at the front. You turned back to him and slipped your arms around his waist once more. Felix looked around, making sure nobody was near before holding you back properly this time. A purr erupted from his throat- quiet, but soothing as your ear was pressed against his chest.

“You’re coming home, Fe.”

“I’m already home right here with you.”

[kimvvantae]

feel better; (1)

➜ being with jimin is hot but cold at the same time. sweet but painful, exciting but sad, intimate but distant - and you don’t know if getting too close is worth the risk.

pairing: daddy!jimin x (f) reader

genre: smut (in future chapters), angst, fluff 

warnings: language, non-explicit mentions of sex

word count: 2k

A/N: this is an introduction of what i plan to do. if you guys like it i might update. also, i know that daddy kink is cringey, but 190105 jimin awakened the sub bitch inside of me and i had to write it. i’m not sorry.

➜ check out masterlist in bio for more of my works!

It's one of those days when you're sure the Universe hates you.

Whenever you think everything is fine, whenever you think you're about to have a nice day for once, whatever creatures that control the world probably look at you and say hm, I don't think so, bitch.

You close your eyes tightly and embrace your own body, heavy blankets covering you. The bedroom is considerably dark, but it's probably already noon and the world outside must be looking beautiful. It's summer, after all - and you're in one of the nicest places in the planet to enjoy summer: Rio de Janeiro.

You still don't know exactly how you ended up here. Jimin simply texted you some nights ago, asking if you wanted to "escape" from work. Of course you said yes, but you didn't expect that Jimin meant "escape" literally and would take you to fucking Brazil. 

You don't know him very well, but one thing you've learned about Park Jimin in these six months is that he's a very surprising man.

When you started with the whole sugar daddy thing, you didn't expect it to turn out to be good - because at the beginning, it really wasn't. You just started it because the idea of earning money easily was nice and you were desperate, so when you found out there was an app to find daddies (yes, there are apps about it), you downloaded it quickly. Let's just give it a try.

You did not meet anyone at first: you just sent nudes and some videos to your "clients", always covering your face and identity to protect yourself, and the experience was humiliating to say the very least. You kept doing it because the "clients" actually did pay for it and, again, you needed the money. Many of them said they'd pay more if you met them in person. You always refused. If just sending them some nudes made you feel that bad, then meeting in person or maybe having sex with them would be terrible.

That is… until you met Jimin.

You still don't know why the fuck he was using that app. Let's be honest, Park Jimin is not the type of man that needs to pay for sex. He sent you a message, though, and for some time you just sent him nudes as usual. Jimin was doing it anonymously - as most of the "clients" do - so you had no idea he was young. That is, until he started to ask for your private number. You got worried at first; he wasn't the first one to ask this, and you'd always refuse any kind of personal contact with the "clients". You're not stupid. You know that most of those old men are searching for a dumb girl or boy to use them in ugly ways. You considered blocking him…

Until you woke up to one thousand dollars in your bank account.

No one has ever paid that much.

All that because he wanted your private number.

Well, you gave him. If anything became strange, you could just block him and get rid of this number, right?

However, things took an unexpected route when the first thing Jimin sent was a video of himself masturbating for you.

You couldn't believe it. It could be a fake video, right? Are you telling me this beautiful man was on an app that only old men use? It took hours for you to reply - both because of your suspicion, your shock, and the fact that the video was mesmerizing. 

The man on the video was ridiculously hot. He was biting his bottom lip (such plump lips!) and moaning in a way that made your legs feel like jelly. And his cock - wow. Just wow.

You got wet and texted him back.

It was the first time someone made you come with texts.

You used to make fun of your friends when they talked about sexting, but sexting with this man was something out of this world. He was good with words and, before you noticed, you were sending more and more videos and nudes of yourself - and he'd constantly send videos of himself, too, what made you come to the conclusion that it wasn't fake. You've reached a point where you were doing it because of how hot it was, and not because of the money.

But then, Jimin thought that just sexting wasn't enough and asked to meet you in real life.

You still hesitated. You knew nothing about him. He could be a rapist, a psycho, a murderer. Jimin didn't force you into meeting him, though, what was unexpectedly nice of him (sugar daddies usually are not that nice), but he would ask from time to time if you'd like to meet.

A certain day, curiosity took the best of you and you said yes - as long as you'd meet in a public place.

Jimin choose a mall downtown.

It was a shocking moment.

One thing was seeing photos or videos of him. Another thing was seeing him in person.

His beautiful, plump lips. His cat-like eyes. Pitch black hair, flawless skin. He's not that tall, but his body proportions are balanced and perfect. The way he carries himself with confidence and pride, the way he looks at people with his piercing gaze…

When his eyes landed on you, you felt like being shot.

You promised yourself you wouldn't have sex with him, but ended up fucking the whole night.

The. Whole. Night.

Jimin was seductive. He was strong and flexible and had great stamina. Rough but  slow, deep and intoxicating, breath-takingly intense. He wasn't focusing only on his pleasure but on yours, too - and he didn't stop until he saw you begging desperately for release, dripping wet, toes curling, a moaning mess.

Jimin is that good.

After that night, you started fucking constantly. He started paying you higher, too - you soon found out Jimin is actually very rich and he doesn't mind buying you ridiculously expensive stuff. He even bought you a car. You're being so well paid that it's getting hard to hide your "secret life"; people are starting to notice you don't seem to struggle that much financially, which is strange, considering you work as a secretary with an average salary and has a university loan to pay (well, had; Jimin paid it for you).

You two are not close in the slightest, though. You don't know anything about Jimin's life other than the fact that he's super rich, his family owns Korea considering the amount of business they have in the country, and that he fucks good. Your relationship is strictly sexual. You don't ask about his life, he doesn't ask about yours. Jimin also made clear that he doesn't mind if you have a boyfriend or not and that you can end your "business" with him whenever you want. That's what surprises you: he seems to be a nice guy. Jimin doesn't force you to do anything, he constantly asks if you're liking it or not when you're fucking. His sex might be rough, but his actions and words are not. He never screamed at you, never spanked too strongly, never roped you too tightly, never offended you. Jimin doesn't think he can do whatever he wants with you just because he's paying for it.

Does it make you feel less bad? No. You know that what you're doing is prostitution. Sure, Jimin is the only person you have sex with, but it doesn't change the fact that you're being paid. You still need the money anyways - and you won't finish it all until you get what you need.

Jimin being so nice and fucking so good makes you consider staying a little longer sometimes.

He is so nice that he brought you to Rio with him after all. You know he's a busy man, having some free days to travel was probably hard for him. You should be rewarding him. You wanted to make him feel good, to enjoy the sun and the sea, to wear that pretty bikini he bought for you. Shit, you two should be fucking out there in the beach.

But here you are. Locked in the bedroom under the covers.

Sick.

Fever, headache, vomiting everything you eat. The doctor said it's a virus or something. You were already feeling bad even before you got in the plane, and now you feel bad for not telling him, because you could've taken some medicine and you'd be feeling better now. 

Instead of a sexy bikini, you're wearing one of your ugly (but comfy) pajamas, far from the nightgowns Jimin likes. Your hair is a mess, you're not wearing any makeup. What if Jimin gets disappointed with you bare face? Everything about this trip is wrong. 

When you hear Jimin's steps and the door opening, you close your eyes again.

He sits down by your side and put his hand on your forehead.

"How are you feeling?" He asks softly. You open your eyes and see the stunning man in front of you: he's wearing simple black shorts and a white cotton shirt. It's amazing how he can look good in such a simple outfit.

"Like crap," you say, raspy voice, and Jimin giggles. "I'm sorry."

"Why are you apologizing, baby? No one gets sick on purpose." It's one of the rare moments when Jimin is not talking with any type of sexual connotation, which is surprising. You expected him to be mad or disappointed, but he looks… concerned? The way his eyebrows are furrowed and he analyzes your face look like concern, at least. "I think the medicine is working. If you feel worse, I'll call the doctor again, okay?"

You nod weakly while Jimin caresses your hair. "I wish things were different."

"It's alright. This house is mine, we can come back whenever we want." You don't know why you still get shocked when Jimin says stuff like I own a mansion in a private beach so naturally, as if it's not a big deal. "We can visit Copacabana next time… and the Christ statue, if you want to, but that place is always too crowded. There is a city near here called Paraty, I think you'd love it, too…"

You lay there in silence as Jimin speaks. Okay, that is unexpected. You thought he just wanted to fuck in a cool beach, you didn't expect Jimin wanted to take you to touristic places. It almost felt like…

A couple?

You brush this idea off as soon as it crosses your mind. You know Jimin doesn't feel anything but sexual attraction for you - and it's the other way around. You're not stupid enough to fall for him. This is a man that pays to have you. He surely has some obsessive issues. You think that he wouldn't be a nice boyfriend at all, your relationship just works because you're as detached as him.

The idea of being in an actual relationship with him is… well…

"Rest now and you'll feel better soon." He says reassuringly, a small smile on his lips. Again, you search for any hint of annoyance on his expression - nothing.

The discomfort eases a little.

That is, until you see Jimin getting under the covers with you.

"What are you doing?!" You ask, surprised. Jimin's not going to initiate anything sexual, right? He's seeing you're sick!

"I'm not a doctor, but… one thing I know is that cuddling helps a lot in the healing process."

You feel Jimin's arms wrapping around your waist, your back touching his chest. He snuggles closer to you in a warm, cozy hug.

Your heart races. 

"Sleep now, baby." He whispers on your ear and kisses your neck tenderly. "Don't feel bad. I'm not mad at you."

As unexpected (and weird) as it is, you smile softly. It's been a long time since you've been so close to someone like this - no second intentions involved. It feels good. Although you're very aware of what your thing with Jimin is and you agreed with it in the first place, not being treated like a sexual toy feels good.

It's the first time you touch each other like this.

It feels more intimate than any sex you've ever had.

"And…" Jimin whispers in a raspy, low voice. "We'll have enough time later for you to pay for what we lost here, baby."

This makes you shiver. You love it when Jimin talks like that.

Your stomach twirls in excitement just imagining what Jimin will do to you in the future.

[bonkers-4-hatter]

Barry Allen X !Fat Reader - A Flash Of Love Ch.1

-Please note that fat and chubby are two different things and are not one in the same. This will be centered around a fat reader, bigger than a chubby person as requested by the commissioner. If you see the word fat as offensive, sorry, bit I'm not changing it.-

---

“(Y/N), did you pack those documents for the ambassadors, we need them for that diplomatic meeting after the recon mission.” Grabbing said files from your top desk drawer, you shoved them into your briefcase along with the many other files and packets needed.

Shutting the briefcase, you strapped it on top of your suitcase to take onto the plane. “Just put it in Diana, do we need anything else?”

Your boss, Diana Prince walked out of her office, suitcase behind her and a smile on her face. Of course five months ago, you found out that your cheerful boss was in fact the badass superhero – Wonder Woman.

Needless to say, you fangirled a little bit when you found out. You could remember when Wonder Woman made her debut to the city and from that day on, you idolized her; she was your icon. You wanted to be like her in every aspect: strong, courageous, selfless and brave. Honestly, after finding out your boss was your iconic superhero – you still felt the same.

You still wanted to be just like her. How she can juggle so much and still be a top rate boss and superhero; it was truly amazing to you.

“No, I think that’s it, let’s head to the plane, Bruce should be there by now.” Smiling at her, you followed behind her.

Diana and you were on your way to a secret location to meet with some of the Justice League. Usually, she wouldn’t take you with her on these missions, but they needed all hands on deck and that included Bruce Wayne who to your surprise was Batman, who was bringing someone with him as well.

Getting into the car with Diana, it started down the street, your mind wondering once more. Your life felt like a dream at this point; working with superheroes and helping with recon missions and meeting all of these wonderful people that accept you the way you are.

Being fat in a life that’s filled with superheroes wasn’t the nightmare you thought it would be. Your mind first thought of how critical and judgmental they might be because of your body especially since you were going to be working closely with them, but it was the total opposite.

All of them had been so nice and welcoming and accepted you the way you are – rolls and all. 

Diana’s voice brought you out of your thoughts. “I’m sorry, what did you say?” She only laughed already knowing you were daydreaming away as you did sometimes. 

“I said thank you (Y/N), for everything that you’ve helped out with, with the league and all.” Her words made you swell with pride. Wonder Woman herself was thanking you for helping, you could die happy at this point. Giving her a wide smile you shook your head.

“It’s no problem at all Diana,” Leaning back, you relaxed in the seat. “I enjoy helping you all as much and in any way I can… what you guys do is amazing and to be connected to that, it’s truly an amazing opportunity and I’m grateful for it,” Raising your pointer finger toward Diana, you finished with, “I should be the one thanking you.”

“You’re too good to be true sometimes (Y/N).” You both shared a light laugh as the car came to a stop, indicating that you arrived at the plane.

The door opened, the sunlight pouring in a little as a deep voice said, “It’s always laughs with you two, I always wonder how you both can be so carefree.” Diana scoffed at the voice, a hand extending itself to help her out of the car; followed by yourself. Thanking none other than Bruce Wayne himself for helping you out, you decided to answer him.

“I guess we just tend to see the brighter side of things.” Grabbing your suitcase from the trunk, you pulled the handle up before sending Bruce a smile. 

“That, and we know how to actually smile, a little something you might want to work on.” Diana piped up, adding her own tidbit to the conversation. Her words made you giggle, especially at Bruce’s reaction which wasn’t really anything, it was neutral really, but it still brought amusement to you anyways. 

All three of you made your way to the plane – Bruce’s own private plane of course. Since it was a low-key mission and all, this was the easiest way to get from point A to point B. 

“So, where’s your new side kick?” Diana’s amusement was evident in her voice as your eyes scanned over the two, awaiting his answer. You were curious about this mystery person too. Bruce didn’t really say much about this new addition to the League and needless to say, your curiosity was getting the better of you. 

The Dark Knight sighed and rubbed his dark circled eyes, most likely from the lack of sleep. “He’s not my sidekick, but he’ll be a great addition with his powers.” Now, that piqued your interest. Your mind ran through many powers, wondering which one it could be. It was times like this that you wished you had some neat and mind blowing super power to help them out more besides providing paperwork and other minuscule assistants that was needed.

Climbing the stairs to the plane, Diana asked the burning question, “So, what exactly is their power?” Before Bruce could answer, a red blur startled the both of you as it zoomed from the cockpit of the plane, straight to the back. Blinking a few times, you wondered if you actually saw what you did, or if it was all just a trick played by your eyes. 

“What was-.” Bruce cut off Diana’s question with a bit of a cocky tone. “That,” He pointed to a boy now seated near the back of the plane, flipping through a comic book. “Is our new addition.” You could practically hear the smirk etched on Bruce’s face, but you were focused on the boy that he pointed out. He was pretty damn cute.

He hadn’t picked up on the audience in front of him, which gave you a little bit to admire him from afar. He was average height, even though he was sitting down, you could still tell. Your eyes moved up his frame, which was lithe in comparison to your soft one, he had a little bit of muscle to him, the way his biceps flexed each time he turned a page in his comic book was proof enough. Biting your lip, your gaze went up and past his cherry red lips, the adorable smile that played on them as his deep brown eyes scanned the comic he was immersed in and his shaggy dark hair, some of it tickling his forehead as he had his head bent.

“So, does this new addition have a name?” Your voice filtered through the small plane. His head shot up, comic closing as he did so. Before you could utter another word, a bright, red streak appeared and before you knew it, the mystery addition was in front of your face, a wide smile stretching across his face.

“You’re probably tired of the angst treatment from Batman, so I thought I’d introduce myself.�� 

He held his hand out toward you. Grasping it, you gave it a hearty shake. “My name’s Barry. Barry Allen.” You hummed and smiled up at Barry.

“I’m (Y/N). Diana’s assistant.” 

“So, is red lightning your power, or…?” 

Before Barry could answer, Bruce cleared his throat as he ushered you both with his hands to sit down in the seats. “How about we get airborne before we start talking.” Barry cleared his throat and stepped to the side, gesturing you to walk ahead of him which you did. Going toward the back, to where Barry was originally sitting, you took a seat next to the window, by his seat, where the comic laid.

With everyone seated, the plane engine started up, and before you knew it, you were in the air, soaring above the clouds. 

“Anyways,” Barry started as you turned your attention to him. “It’s not lighting per se, well I mean, it’s the aftermath of my power and all, which is pretty cool,” You laughed at his ramblings as he tried to explain his powers. 

“I’m rambling again…” He muttered to himself before shaking his head and turning in his seat to look at you fully.

“What I’m trying to say is, my power is speed, like faster than the speed of light type of speed. I’m kind of like Sonic the Hedgehog on steroids you can say.” Nodding at his explanation, your laugh echoed off the walls of the plane, making you cover your mouth.

“Hey, don’t hide your laugh, it’s cute,” Removing your hand, you felt a flush rise up onto your chubby cheeks. “Though, I understand why you’re laughing. My power seems like something out of some video game, huh?” Shaking your head, you waved him off.

“Well, if something like pickle Rick is possible, I’m sure super speed is up there too.” Barry smiled and cocked an eyebrow.

“Rick and Morty fan?” Nodding, you leaned back into the comfy plane seat, lolling your head to the side so you could continue talking with Barry. “My friend got me into the show and after the first few episodes, well, let’s just say I spent my weekend binge watching until my eyes were sore.” 

Barry chuckled at your words, nodding along as if silently saying he did the same thing.

“So, (Y/N), what power do you have?” Your smile faltered as you sunk in your seat a bit. You started to twiddle your thumbs and such, a habit you picked up when you were nervous or didn’t really want to talk much, like now.

“I don’t have a power… I’m just normal, nothing special with super speed, strength or an unlimited amount of money to buy me super special gadgets and toys.” The last part made Barry smile, your humor was a breath of fresh air, especially with stoic, serious league members surrounding him.

“Eh, superpowers are overrated anyways, besides, being an assistant must be pretty awesome.” 

Scoffing, you nudged his shoulder a bit. “Oh yeah, making packets and copies of super important documents and treaties is so thrilling, but I think the most amazing part of it is booking hotel reservations and taking calls all day – nothing beats that.” The sarcasm that dripped from your voice was evident. 

“Well, that all sounds pretty important to me.” Smirking at his words, you looked out the window, nothing but clear blue skies were in your view. You could feel yourself dozing off as you leaned your head back against the headrest. You could feel your eyes start to droop as sleep was calling to you.

Closing your eyes, you heard Barry let out a low laugh, probably at something in his comic which brought a smile to your face. His laugh was nice, he seemed nice. Hopefully during this mission, you’ll be able to get to know this new addition better. Before sleep consumed you, you felt something warm and fuzzy being placed over you, the chill from the plane gone as a sleepy smile spread across your face.

[actuallylorelaigilmore]

the ultimate citation list for Schneider of ODAAT, volume 1

A reference collection of quotes and details, organized chronologically, for the first 26 episodes of One Day At A Time. Used to create this character guide.

“Can you believe it's only been 10 months since you moved in? I remember 'cause I got my five year sober chip and your mom baked me that cake. I enjoyed watching you guys eat it." 1x01

"You're 40 and you look stupid." “I'll have you know, I was invited to several Pride parades." 1x01

Uses a “very expensive” Damascus steel hammer. 1x01

"I've been doing some outreach down at the rec center, talking to at-risk youth. You guys wanna start takin' bets? Actually, scratch that. I'm addicted to gambling.” 1x01

"Love isn't even real. It's just something your nanny says sometimes to your dad." 1x02

"Hey, I may have money in the bank and two living parents, and four living stepmothers but there is a hole in here. We never had family meals. I ate alone in front of the TV. Oh, don't get me wrong. It was a massive TV. Sometimes my nanny would join me, but only if I agreed to watch telenovelas. This one time, Rosa got jealous of the housekeeper 'cause she was makin' a move on her man, so she threatened to throw live scorpions on her while she slept. Rosa was my nanny. Ex-nanny. Now, stepmother." 1x03

[Lydia and Pen fighting] “It's startin' to feel kinda like home in here.” 1x03

Schneider cooks fancy hipster food. "Nutted quinoa, wilted broccolini with radish micro-greens, and venison carpaccio on a bed of nettles. Grab a cedar plank and dig in." 1x04

"Always interesting to be the sober one at a dinner party." 1x05

"I immigrated here illegally. I'm a Canadian. But yeah, born in the 'Couve, overstayed my student visa, forced to live in the shadows of Pepperdine University. Anyway, it's fine now. My lawyers made it all okay." 1x05

Uses sheet masks, knows about chauffeurs, butlers, estates. 1x06

“The kids barely touched my black olive tapenade.” “Thanks for helping out, but maybe next time pick a food a kid would wanna eat or has heard of.” “Yeah, and maybe next time, don't hand out masks with my face on them.” 1x07  

"The members of my college band have finally put aside our differences and we're reuniting to play at the fair this afternoon. My band, Full Sail, plays yacht rock. These guys were like family. I used to show up at their dorm rooms unannounced and just hang out for hours and hours and hours." 1x07

"We were setting up for the show and our keytarist threw a decorative anchor at me. This is why Full Sail broke up in the first place. Too many passionate personalities." 1x07

Has a magnifying glass in his costume trunk. 1x07

"I know nothing about my grandparents and I never will. And they live in Pasadena!" (but he goes to 'the depot' in Pasadena) 1x09

"I have never seen such un-professionalism. This is why I don't work!" 1x09

"I need to find a new place to get my eyebrows threaded." 1x10

Has a safe. 1x10

"Well, Father believed it's best to have this kinda discussion in a car because you don't have to make eye contact. Plus, you're traveling in the same direction, which fosters intimacy. So we're in the Bentley with our chauffeur, Paco. Father said it's time to have the talk. We came to the next stoplight. He hopped out, Paco told me everything." 1x10

"I didn't get the period talk till I was 12. Paco just called it 'Shark Week.'" 1x10

"When I was a kid, there was an adult section in the back of the video store. Behind the beads. I'd always chicken out and just rent a Jane Fonda workout tape. Still worked. Still works." 1x10

"You'd be surprised how many of my hookups started with 'Ugh!' ...When I was 15, I told Father I wanted to be a professional tap dancer. He laughed. It was that lack of support that contributed to my drinking and drug problem. Oh, do you find that amusing? Because 15-year-old Schneider's drinking peach schnapps out of an unused tap shoe right now." 1x11

"You have a girl over here and you were offering to have sex with me?" - "Yes, Penelope. That's the kind of friend I am." 1x11

"My dad never came to my games. All he ever did was put me through rehab six times and buy me this building." 2x01

"Maroon 5 is the best." 2x01

"Okay, I decided to take a break from dating. See, I realized that women were just another one of my addictions, like alcohol, drugs, gambling, cigarettes, snow globes. The point is, I've broken the cycle of addiction with spinning. Five hours a day, every single day. I have to do it! Plus, it's the perfect substitute for dating, 'cause it burns a lot of energy and also numbs my junk!" 2x02

“Snow globes? Is this one of our family?” 2x02

"I come over, tell him to do stuff to me, he does it, I go home. You should get one." "I think what Nikki was kinda dancing around is that you don't always have to have a relationship with a capital "R." Sometimes all you need is what the great poets of the Renaissance called a junk buddy." "Exactly. You don't even have to like them." 2x03

"See, the great thing about having a green card is you get to live here without having to do all the stuff Americans have to, like vote or serve jury duty or become obese."

"Okay, but at least you vote in Canadian elections." "Mmm. No. Even in Canada, nothing ever changes. Clean air, sensible gun control, free health care. The system's rigged." 2x04

Can picture himself “doing it” with Elizabeth Warren, was Stephen Hawking for Halloween. 2x04

"You have to pay taxes with a green card? I just texted my accountant, and he said 'cause I'm in the highest income bracket, I don't have to pay taxes." 2x04

Keeps on hand: panic room, gas mask, water purification pills, MREs, enough cash to get to Cape Verde by boat. Followed Max on Instagram. Would be honored to be Penelope's maid of honor. 2x05

"I'm very patriotic. Look in that basket. There's a bald eagle thong." 2x06

All Elena's video game equipment belongs to him. 2x06

"Penelope, tell my third stepmother I loved her! Not the second one, though. She was kind of a jerk." 2x06

"Hummer limo's downstairs. My third stepmother used to take me to the racetrack to spy on Father. For the longest time, I thought she was saying, 'Your father is with Rebecca, that horse!' It's like I'm back at the racetrack with my stepmom. What's next? Throw a mint julep in his face?” 2x07

"I love Cuba! I've been there four times. Property manager, job's just temporary. My father owns the building. I'm really a musician. Play a lot of rap-rock-ska. I'm like a male Gwen Stefani. When you're hiring a nanny, make sure she's not too hot. That's how I met my fifth mom. I had four nannies and look at the results." 2x08

Did not speak a word of Spanish when he first met them, is interested in single moms. 2x08

"If you joined an adult kickball team after saying you were too busy to join mine, you are on a long road to forgiveness." 2x09

"Your idea of stress is when your chest-waxer goes out of town." "Roberto is the only one who doesn't make it sting!" 2x09

"I shouldn't have to need these either, but I do. To see. So it's Fourth of July, 2011. I'd been sober for a while, so I thought I'd celebrate with a beer. Woke up three days later in an alley. Then the bowling ball hit me. I was in the gutter for a long time. It's really slippery without the shoes. That was the day I truly accepted that I can't have alcohol or drugs, ever. Not a beer, not a glass of wine, not even six hits of acid at a Grateful Dead show, no matter how well it makes me dance. I kinda get where you're coming from. There's something I want that I can't have for the rest of my life." 2x09

He and Pen are best friends. Also considers Max his bestie. Wants to Netflix and chill with them both, together. 2x09

"My abuelita used to put Vicodin in her coffee. And her lemonade and her sandwiches. Maybe she had a problem. As my father said to me on my ninth birthday, 'You don't need me anymore.' I use my garage for pickling and sea horse breeding." 2x10

Loves puns. "This is Elena Alvarez, my handyman mentee. Or handy-manatee." "The toilet is a cruel mistress. She is flush with complications." 2x10

"Herb and Sherb McGurb. Her real name is Sheryl, but she gets a kick out of Sherb." 2x10

"Bonsai's for dorks. This is penjing. The gentle Chinese art of tray scenery. Now that you're working for me, I finally have some leisure time." "Oh, look, there's little people. Wait, is that my family?" "Could be any Cuban family." 2x10

"I may only look two or three years older than you, but I have the wisdom of that ancient bonsai!" 2x10

"Always take the lemonade. That's Handyman 101! So you watched Jeopardy with them and then what? Well, now we know what your problem is! You fixed their toilet, but you didn't fix their souls. Elena, growing up, I had everything. But I was always alone. I don't want my tenants to feel that way, so I do more than just fix stuff. Apartment 306, macrame with Mrs. Watson. 201, lose at chess to Mr. Roth. 402, listen to all their Cuban nonsense. That's the job. That's what takes four hours. That's the difference between being a handyman and a super." 2x10

Has heard 'you're fired' a lot. 2x10

"After a grueling 30 minutes of thought, Nikki, will you be my starter wife? You're on the rebound. That's the best time to get married. You don't have time to think. So you were never thinking about me? My emotions? My feelings? You used me, Nikki, Finn's mom! And not in the way I like! And that's not all, Sister Barbara. We knew each other. Biblically. And while we were doing it, she took the Lord's name in vain. A lot!" 2x11

"Last night, I was testing the pH of the water in my seahorse ranch and, as I looked at those vomiting little guys, I realized I suck at tests. All tests. Drug, sobriety, vision, IQ, smog. You name it, I fail it!" 2x12

"Have you ever been arrested?” “Does public nudity at a hockey game count?” “There is, uh, no mention of a public nudity charge in your file.” “Oh, you just go to YouTube and type in 'Zam-boner.'" 2x12

"Yeah, they didn't specifically ask if I got drunk and tried to ride a moose, so after that I was golden." 2x12

"How important is having kids to you?" "Never really thought about it." 2x12

"I'll have you know I babysat my babysitter's kids while she was babysitting my dad, so, yeah, I got a little experience under my belt. Oh, it's my cousin Gordy. He still thinks I'm full-on Canadian. All right, good news is Gordo bought it. Bad news is I'm judging a poutine festival in Saskatoon next week." 2x12

"You're the single greatest mother I know." "Thank you. That means a lot coming from a guy with five moms." 2x12

"Fuzzy Afghan she likes, picture of the Pope, picture of a different Pope, picture of your dad, picture of the family, picture of me with the family, picture of me by a waterfall. I'm just gonna keep talking 'cause I'm not good in crisis situations." 2x13

"It's so crazy how we're both immigrants. I mean, I would never compare my story to yours, but the parallels are spooky. You were 18, I was 18. You left your family behind. I left four step-families, a maid, a butler, a chauffeur, and a horse groomer who really got me. But Father was expanding his business to the US and so I had to go. I remember, at the airport, I was crying. But Father put his arm around me and he said, 'Son, only losers cry.' So that was a long flight. You don't know how dirty a dirty look can get until you're crying for a whole plane ride and you're not a baby. I really didn't wanna be in America. So I drank. And I recreated the snowy plains of Canada with cocaine. I'm told I attended classes at Pepperdine University, but I will have to take that on faith. So, I'm in a detox center in El Segundo. This was my fourth rehab. My re-re-re-rehab. I thought I'd been doing a kickass job keeping my drug stuff a secret from all the tenants and then you showed up in my room at that clinic. You brought me sopa de pollo and said it's Cuban penicillin. You told me, 'You eat this, you get some sleep, and tomorrow, you try again.' And then you tucked me in and kissed me good night on my forehead. Forehead kisses are wildly underrated. Just something really comforting about 'em. Then again, it might just be you. Dad never did that. Or my horse groomer. After I got out of rehab, I started hanging around your apartment a lot more, 'cause it helped. Back then, it must have felt like you had this annoying, intrusive guy over. Not like now. 'Cause now you're my family. Don't worry. I haven't legally changed my last name to Alvarez. My lawyer said it was a whole thing, so... Anyway, Pen said no crying, so I'm not gonna. Actually, for once, I agree with Father. Only losers cry. And we're not losing anybody today. Let's hit that oath ceremony soon, okay?" 2x13