#i think it would be a waste for the actors not to pair up with anyone else just because they have one partner they work well with already

[sonnburn]

I'm always mostly joking about SandNick because their friendship is literally the best part about this show, so wouldn't it be funny if the pair with the healthiest relationship got together in the end? But then THIS happened!? And somehow I love them even MORE now!?

The whole "we're both lonely and rejected but we get along so well, maybe WE should just be together" mess was handled in like, thirty seconds! And they weren't weird or awkward or hurt about it after, they just laughed it off and said "nope, never mind, still love you bro, let's cuddle and go to sleep" and just, AAHH!? This was so wholesome, I love them!!! Platonic besties for the win!

andtheywereroommates.gif

[3rdgymbros]

━ 𝐑𝐮𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐇𝐚𝐬 𝐈𝐭 (𝟐) !

— pairing; vil schoenheit x ramshackle! reader

— summary; vil's dad thinks you're dating, and comes down to meet you

— notes; here is part 2, part 1 is here. please donate to my kofi or consider commissioning me if you like my work bc im broke and need cash. and know that i am mentally smooching everyone who reblogs my stuff.

❋ It’s a bright afternoon at Night Raven College when Eric Venue arrives at Night Raven College unannounced, causing a minor frenzy among students and staff alike. They’re starstruck; after all, seeing a famous actor on campus is a rarity, and Eric is surrounded by a crowd of adoring fans as he makes his way to Pomefiore.

❋ Vil, however, is not thrilled to see him. His father’s obviously come here to snoop, and Eric’s wide grin tells Vil there’s no escaping him today.

❋ Ever the professional actor, Eric insists he’s just here for a little visit. “Can’t a father see his son and stroll around the college campus for a while?”

❋ Vil reluctantly obliges, but he’s wary. Every time they pass a group of students (many of them gawking and staring and pointing), Eric gives each and every one of them a careful once-over, as if expecting you to magically appear. Vil notices and gives his father a dirty look, but Eric just shrugs, the very picture of innocence.

❋ Despite Vil’s attempts to keep his father far far away from you, your paths do eventually cross. You run into both father and son as you’re heading down to the cafeteria for lunch, and Eric’s eyes immediately light up with recognition. He strides over before Vil can stop him, extending a hand with a charming smile. “Ah, you must be the famous Ramshackle student! I’m Eric Venue, Vil’s father. I’ve heard quite a bit about you.”

❋ You’ve seen exactly zero of his movies. Thanks to Ace and Deuce giving you the lowdown, all you know about this guy is that he’s some big star — Leonardo DiCaprio level, maybe? Not that anyone here would know who he is . . .

❋ Realising that Eric’s waiting for a reply, you quickly recover, shaking his hand with a slightly awkward but friendly smile. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Venue.”

❋ Eric immediately wastes no time in drawing you into a conversation, asking you about your interests, your studies, and — much to Vil’s chagrin — what you think of his son. He’s so friendly and warm, it’s almost like talking to an old friend, rather than a famous celebrity.

❋ (The shy tinge to your smile, and the way your voice softens when you talk about Vil doesn’t go unnoticed by Eric, and only serves to confirm his suspicions.)  

❋ Vil is unnaturally tense through it all, a bow string about to snap. It’s almost as though he’s debating grabbing his father and making a break for it, public image be dammed. But instead, Vil settles for hovering beside you both, looking mortified and slightly flustered when his father asks you something just a little too personal.

❋ Finally, Vil manages to pull his father aside, insisting that they should let you get to lunch (Vil makes eyes at you and you take the hint, dutifully acting as though you’re absolutely starving).

❋ Eric sees right through your little act, but lets you leave with a wave and a laugh, expressing his desire to see you again. Afterwards, Eric turns to Vil with a knowing smile, quietly whispering, “I like them,” like it’s the final stamp of approval for the relationship Vil absolutely refuses to admit he’s in.

[invisibleicewands]

Please come and see me because I’ll be dead soon’: how Michael Sheen got sucked into a forever chemicals exposé

An opera-loving member of high society turned eco-activist who was forced into police protection with a panic button round his neck. A Hollywood actor who recorded said activist’s life story as he was dying from exposure to the very chemicals he was investigating. Throw in two investigative journalists who realise not everything is as it seems, then uncover some startling truths, and you have “podcasting’s strangest team” on Buried: The Last Witness.

On their award-winning 2023 podcast Buried, the husband and wife duo Dan Ashby and Lucy Taylor dug into illegal toxic waste dumping in the UK and its links to organised crime. This time, they focus on “forever chemicals”, specifically polychlorinated biphenyls (PCBs) and set out to discover whether one whistleblower may have been decades ahead of his time in reporting on their harmful impact.

“It’s amazing how big the scale of this story is,” says Ashby, as we sit backstage at the Crucible theatre, where they are doing a live discussion as part of Sheffield DocFest. “With this series, we don’t just want it to make your blood turn cold, we want it to make you question your own blood itself.”

It all started when Taylor and Ashby were sent a lead about the work of former farmer’s representative Douglas Gowan. In 1967, he discovered a deformed calf in a field and began to investigate strange goings on with animals close to the Brofiscin and Maendy quarries in south Wales. He linked them to the dumping of waste by companies including the nearby Monsanto chemical plant, which was producing PCBs.

PCBs were used in products such as paint and paper to act as a fire retardant, but they were discovered to be harmful and have been banned since 1981 in the UK. However, due to their inability to break down – hence the term forever chemical – Gowan predicted their legacy would be a troubling one. “I expect there to be a raft of chronic illness,” he said. He even claimed that his own exposure to PCBs (a result of years of testing polluted grounds) led his pancreas and immune system to stop working. “I’m a mess and I think it can all be attributed to PCBs,” he said.

However, Gowan wasn’t a typical environmentalist. “A blue-blood high-society Tory and a trained lawyer who could out-Mozart anyone,” is how Taylor describes him in the series. He would even borrow helicopters from friends in high places to travel to investigate farmers’ fields. Gowan died in 2018 but the pair managed to get hold of his life’s work – confidential reports, testing and years of evidence. “I’m interested in environmental heroes that aren’t cliche,” says Ashby. “So I was fascinated by him. But then we started to see his flaws and really had to weigh them up. My goodness it’s a murky world we went into.”

The reason they were able to delve even deeper into this murky world is because of the award-winning actor Michael Sheen who, in 2017, came across Gowan’s work in a story he read. He was so blown away by it, and the lack of broader coverage, that he tracked him down. “I got a message back from him saying: ‘Please come and see me because I’ll be dead soon,’” says Sheen. “I took a camera with me and spent a couple of days with him and just heard this extraordinary story.”

What Gowan had been trying to prove for years gained some traction in 2007, with pieces in the Ecologist and a Guardian article exploring how “Monsanto helped to create one of the most contaminated sites in Britain”. One was described as smelling “of sick when it rains and the small brook that flows from it gushes a vivid orange.” But then momentum stalled.

Years later, in 2023, Ashby and Taylor stumbled on a recording of Sheen giving the 2017 Raymond Williams memorial lecture, which referenced Gowan and his work. Before they knew it, they were in the actor’s kitchen drinking tea and learning he had conducted a life-spanning seven-hour interview with Gowan before his death. So they joined forces. Sheen isn’t just a token celebrity name added for clout on this podcast; he is invested. For him, it’s personal as well as political. “Once you dig into it, you realise there’s a pattern,” he says. “All the places where this seems to have happened are poor working-class areas. There’s a sense that areas like the one I come from are being exploited.”

Sheen even goes to visit some contaminated sites in the series, coming away from one feeling sick. “That made it very real,” he says. “To be looking into a field and going: ‘Well, I’m pretty sure that’s toxic waste.’” Sheen was living a double life of sorts. “I went to rehearsals for a play on Monday and people were like, ‘What did you do this weekend?’” he says. “‘Oh, I went to the most contaminated area in the UK and I think I may be poisoned.’ People thought I was joking.” Sheen ended up being OK, but did have some temporary headaches and nausea, which was a worry. “We literally had to work out if we had poisoned Michael Sheen,” says Ashby, who also ponders in the series: “Have I just killed a national treasure?”

The story gets even knottier. Gowan’s findings turn out to be accurate and prescient, but the narrative around his journey gets muddy. As a character with a flair for drama, he turned his investigation into a juicy, riveting story filled with action, which could not always be corroborated. “If he hadn’t done that, and if he’d been a nerdy, analytical, detail-oriented person who just presented the scientific reports and kept them neatly filed, would we have made this podcast?” asks Taylor, which is a fascinating question that runs through this excellent and gripping series.

Ashby feels that Gowan understood how vital storytelling is when it comes to cutting through the noise. “We have so much science proving the scale of these problems we face and yet we don’t seem to have the stories,” he says. “I think Douglas got that. Fundamentally, he understood that stories motivate human beings to act. But then he went too far.”

However, this is not purely about Gowan’s story – it’s about evidence. The Last Witness doubles up as a groundbreaking investigation into the long-lasting impact of PCBs. “We threw the kitchen sink at this,” says Ashby. “The breakthrough for us is that the Royal Society of Chemistry came on board and funded incredibly expensive testing. So we have this commitment to go after the truth in a way that is hardly ever done.”

From shop-bought fish so toxic that it breaches official health advice to off-the-scale levels of banned chemicals found in British soil, the results are staggering. “The scientist almost fell off his chair,” says Ashby. “That reading is the highest he has ever recorded in soil – in the world. That was the moment we knew Douglas was right and we are now realising the scale of this problem. The public doesn’t realise that even a chemical that has been banned for 40 years is still really present in our environment.”

To go even deeper into just how far PCBs have got into our environment and food chain, Ashby and Taylor had their own blood tested. When Taylor found 80 different types of toxic PCB chemicals in her blood it was a sobering moment. “I was genuinely emotional because it’s so personal,” she says. “It was the thought of this thing being in me that was banned before I was even born and the thought of passing that on to my children.” Ashby adds: “We’ve managed physical risk in our life as journalists in Tanzania and with organised crime, but more scary than a gangster is this invisible threat to our health.”

In order to gauge the magnitude of what overexposure to PCBs can do, they headed to Anniston, Alabama, once home to a Monsanto factory. “As a journalist, you have an inbuilt scepticism and think it can’t be that bad,” says Ashby. “But when I got there I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. I hate to use words like dystopian, but it was. There is a whole massive school that can’t be used. There’s illnesses in children and cancers. It truly was the most powerful vignette of the worst-case example of these chemicals.”

It’s bleak stuff but instilling fear and panic is not the intention. “Obviously, we’re really concerned about it,” says Ashby. “And although the environmental crises we face do feel overwhelming, it is incredible how a movement has formed and how individuals are taking action in communities. The lesson to take from Douglas is that the response doesn’t have to be resignation. It can be agency.”

[cryptidghostgirl]

Unexpected (Vox x Fox Demon!Reader)

Pairing: Vox x Reader

Description: Vox tries to make a deal with Y/n.

Warnings: Valentino is his own warning. Um, slightly explicit near the beginning? Nothing too bad. Cigarettes.

Word Count: 2,928

Master Lists:

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List

Click here and leave a comment if you want to be added to any taglists or send me an ask about it.

A/N Considering the returns on my most recent poll, I figured I should get this slightly steamy little idea I've had for a while out there in the world.

Vox had never been one to make deals with lesser demons, to take their souls. No, that was Valentino's thing. Vox didn't need to own a soul to get a demon to do what he wanted for one, and for another, Vox didn't particularly like people. He preferred to work alone, to be alone. Life was much more productive that way.

The other Vees were different. Vox allowed them in his life because they were useful, they solidified and expanded his power. Anyone else was just a waste of time and space.

Speaking of the other Vees, Vox right now was on his way to visit Valentino. At Velvette's request, he was aiming to talk to the man about whatever scene he'd instigated at a club the night before. It just happened to be his luck because of course it was his fucking luck that the only spare moment he had to deal with the situation was when Val was filming.

Vox burst through the studio doors, making a beeline for Valentino who sat in a director's chair before the set. He was well practiced at approaching his business partner while the man was working and averted his eyes, trying his best to keep focus on the task at hand.

"Val." he hummed in irritation as he came to a stop beside the moth demon's chair, "What did you do last night?"

Valentino blew out a puff of pink smoke, fixing his eyes on Vox.

"Whatever do you mean?"

The feigned innocence coming from this man was laughable. Vox rolled his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, to reveal what Velvette had told him. By chance, just at that moment, he happened to look away.

It wasn't on purpose. There had been a sound from the set that had involuntarily grabbed Vox's attention. His eyes widened, his screen glitching with fury as he turned back to Valentino.

"What the fuck is that?" he asked pointing to the set.

There, in the middle of the bed was a demon. That was far from unusual, as was the demon's half dressed state. What was unusual was the fact that the demon had been dressed up to look exactly like Vox himself. Well, not exactly. The actor had a box over his head with a fake screen on the front. A cheap costume but one that was most certainly supposed to be him.

There was another demon beneath him, a short thing with with wide eyes and the large ears of a fennec fox. It was then that the sound that caught his attention registered with Vox. Trapped under the other actor's arms, his lips to her neck, she had moaned his name.

"Hmm?"

Val lazily threw his gaze to the stage before smiling.

"Just my newest project. Don't you worry."

"Val, I am definitely worried. I want you to cancel this, right now."

"Oh comon Voxy!" Valentino pleaded, "Think of all the money it would bring in! Half of Hell wants to get dicked down by you for Christ's sake."

Vox folded his arms over his chest, actively not looking at the pair who were still on stage. They had not stopped what they were doing for the sake of the overlord's conversation and Vox was so high strung that he nearly flinched at the sound of fabric tearing.

"Val."

His voice came out deep and mangled, as if his speakers were turned up way too loud. Vox's eye twitched slightly in irritation, his hands clenched into fists. Valentino just watched him for a moment before sighing. Waving his hand, he turned to the stage.

"That's a wrap everyone!" he called and Vox turned to watch at the whole crew of demons, including the pair of actors, turned to their boss, "We're trashing this script."

If anyone had complaints, they dared not voice them before the two overlords. Slowly, the crew began to pack up.

"Thank you." Vox reluctantly said to Val.

His eyes were fixed on the two actors, something that did not escape Valentino's notice as he waved the words of thanks off.

"You owe me one."

"Whatever."

The man had pulled himself from the bed by now and discarded the false head he'd been wearing. With a kindly smile, he held a hand out to the girl he'd been on top of just moments before. She sat up, leaning back on her arms. Vox watched her lips move and though he couldn't hear what she said over the clamor, he assumed it must've been a joke as the other demon laughed.

Gently, and with much more grace than Vox could have thought she was capable of, she took the demons hand and brought herself off the bed. Vox's breath caught in his throat because of course, of fucking course, Valentino had decided to dress her like that.

If Val was good at anything, it was guessing someone's kinks just by looking at them. A party trick but in practice, very useful for his line of work. The demon was dressed in blue and red lingerie, running like twisting wires over her limbs, pressing gently into her skin in just the right way. The remnants of a black dress, the source of the earlier sound of torn fabric no doubt, lay in the imprint of her body on the bed. Vox didn't care if it was predictable, she looked fucking hot.

With that specific breed of confidence that seems only to belong to pornstars, the pair began heading toward the door. Muffled, as if through water, Vox heard Valentino ask him something.

"Yeah." Vox absently replied, tearing his eyes away from the pair and meeting Valentino's gaze.

Val smirked up at him knowingly.

"You alright there Voxy?" he hummed, "Fox got your tongue?"

"I am not going to deign that with a response. If you ever pull shit like this agai-"

"Yeah yeah. Doll!"

Vox followed Val's shifted line of sight to see that the girl had stopped by the door which was being held open for her by her scene partner. She turned to face Val, suddenly taking on a much more demure demeanor than she had previously displayed. Hands clasped before her, she met her boss's eyes across the expanse of the room.

"Yes?" she called, her voice like music.

"Val." he warned under his breath for what felt like the umpteenth time.

Valentino, of course, ignored him, seeking his own entertainment and profit above all else.

"Come here for a second, would you?"

She nodded, saying something to the demon behind her over her shoulder. With a shrug, he left the room, letting the door fall shut behind him. Stepping carefully between the frantic workers, the girl made her way across the room to Vox and Val. She stopped before Val's chair, looking up at him through her lashes.

"What did you want to see me for, sir."

Her words were careful, perfectly annunciated.

"Back here in ten. You've got another job."

"Yes, Valentino." she replied, bowing her head just the slightest bit towards the man.

Val's wicked grin widened.

"Wear the white."

"Yes, Valentino."

It was like those were the only two words she knew. She treated the horrific man before her with the utmost respect, never once taking her eyes off of him.

"You may go."

Val waved her off with a lazy flick of his hand.

"Thank you, sir."

Another slight bow and the girl turned, her hair splaying out slightly at the ends from her sudden movement. As she made for the door once again, she shot a momentary glance at Vox. It was as if the world had stopped turning the second their eyes met. It felt like an eternity of him losing himself in their sticky softness. Then, she was gone.

Vox didn't understand what was happening. Sure, he had found people attractive before. He'd engaged in hookups, wasted time on the occasional relationship but nothing -- nothing -- had ever been like this. Every time he shut his eyes, there she was. Every spare second, his mind drifted to her. He found himself staring off into space, the image of that wry smile she had shot her costar as he had helped her off the bed burned into his memory.

The worst part was she was one of Val's girls and Val's girls were always trouble. The look they had shared, the scene she had been in, the way his name had sounded spilling from her soft lips, Vox knew it meant nothing to her. She had probably already forgotten it by now. The worst part was, it wasn't nothing to him. His muscles tensed at just the thought of the sound, at the idea of him being the one to actually make her beg for him rather than some cheap excuse for a facsimile. The worst part was, he didn't even know her name. In Val's gaze, she was just another body to profit off of. She was a doll, unworthy of any other title. The idea of someone seeing her so cheaply made him glitch because god, he had only met her once, but she was so much more than a toy. Vox was sure of it.

Wrapped in fantasy, he crafted an image of the girl. Vox imagined her patterns of being, what she must be like as a person -- so obedient but with that dry sense of humor he had attributed to her with no evidence save that she'd managed to make one person laugh in front of him one time. Vox never expected to see her again. He thought that the demon would be forever relegated to his dreams, to the recesses of his mind. He thought she'd be dead in a week, with Val's track record.

Vox pulled himself from his desk chair with a sigh. Three hours had passed and he just couldn't bring himself to be productive. She was a menace, a true vixen with those fox ears and tail to match. He would curse her very name for what she was doing to him if he knew what it was.

"Some fresh air. That's all I need." he said to the emptiness of his office, "Yeah."

The back doors of the Vee's building were seldom used, even by the people who worked there. Half the paparazzi didn't even know that they existed and so, he planned his escape. Of course it had to be his luck because it was always his goddamn luck these days wasn't it that the second he opened the door, it was to the smell of cigarette smoke and the image of a demon leaning against the building's brick exterior.

Vox let the door fall shut behind him with a heavy bang. The demon shot him a glance out of the corner of her eye, taking a long drag of her cigarette.

"Escaping?" she asked.

He hadn't wanted anyone to see him. More importantly, he hand't wanted to see anyone, let alone talk to him. Vox sighed, adjusting his sleeves as he turned to face the demon fully.

She looked up at him, squinting slightly against the sun. Vox's heart stuttered in his chest. She looked... different and it wasn't just because she was fully dressed this time. There was no doubt about it however, this was the demon from the studio just a few weeks before.

None of the playful joy or diligent respect from their last encounter remained in her features, she just looked tired. Black jeans and a leather jacket, hair pulled up and away from her face, not a speck of makeup to be seen besides the smudged remnants of mascara beneath her eyes.

"You... you're that... you're one of Val's..."

"Victims?" she chuckled ruefully, "Yeah. I am."

"You're the one from..."

"Last week? Yep. Sorry about that, by the way. If it's any consolation, it was uncomfortable for us too."

Vox was speechless, stunned, utterly taken aback and completely blindsided. The exact thing he was trying to escape, standing before him and utterly contrary to his every previously conjured image.

"Want a smoke?"

"Uh, no thanks. Don't smoke."

The girl shrugged.

"Mind if I do."

"No."

She took another long drag, watching the smoke she blew out as it hung blue in the air. She shot him a sidelong glance.

"You just gonna stand there?"

"You ask a lot of questions."

She laughed. Vox wasn't expecting her to do that.

"S'pose I do."

The idea of a walk had long left Vox's mind. He leaned against the wall across from her in the cramped ally, watching as she anxiously checked the time.

"Goddamn."

She lowered her arm, shaking the sleeve of her jacket back over the watch and looking wistfully out towards the exit of the ally.

"Val?"

"Val."

"You seem... you're different than I expected you to be."

"Thats your fault for having expectations."

She smiled at him like a shark watching prey and he nodded his head to the side in mild agreement.

"What's your name?"

Her smile fell, eyes widening slightly. One of her ears twitched and Vox could hear the sound of her tail shifting against the wall. The world felt so far away. Right now, there was nothing else in existence except for himself, the ally, and the fox before him.

"Vix..." she bowed theatrically after a moment, "is my porn name."

Her eyes shot up to his as she finished her phrase, the same confident and, he now realized, performative smile curling the edges of her lips.

"But my parents called me Y/n."

The demon straightened herself up, holding a hand out to Vox. He regarded it carefully for a moment before placing his hand in hers.

"Vox."

"I know."

Y/n took a final drag from her cigarette, stamping the butt out on the ground beneath the heavy heel of her boot.

"Well," she sighed with one last look to the shock of sky they could see between the buildings, "I best be going. Nice meeting you."

"Wait!"

Vox hadn't meant to say it, nor had he meant to frantically latch onto her arm. Y/n flinched slightly under the contact, stilling before the door and turning back to him, her brow furrowed.

"Why do you..." he cleared his throat, his cheeks flushing slightly pink, "How'd you end up... working... here."

Y/n laughed again. She had to admit, his flustered state was rather endearing, not at all what she had expected from one of the most feared overlords in all of Hell.

"For Val?" she asked and he nodded in response, "Same as every other wayward soul. He offered me something I couldn't refuse, and I was too naive to understand the price."

It took Vox a moment for her words to register with him, for her cryptic language to translate in his mind.

"He owns your soul?"

Y/n nodded once, all traces of amusement having fallen from her face.

"For what."

"Fame! Money! Riches!" she sarcastically called out with wild swings of her arms.

She stilled in her movements, a wry smile flashing across her face as she met his eyes again, her arms falling to her sides.

"Really?"

"Nah, I'm not that classy. I needed protection."

"From what?"

"Anything. I was new and I was afraid."

"And now you're trapped."

"Now I am trapped." Y/n concurred solemnly, "And I have to go."

"Do you want to go?"

Y/n thought for a moment before shaking her head.

"You're not what I expected you to be."

"Thanks?" Vox questioned after a moment, "I am not sure if you meant that as a compliment."

"Yeah."

It was a noncommittal answer and one that sent sparks of anxiety like shards of broken glass through him.

"I meant more so do you want to go to Val."

"Do I want to go get fucked by twenty guys or whatever he's gonna have me do? Of course fucking not. I don't really have a say in the matter so its not really important what I want."

"Of course it's important what you want."

Vox's mouth was moving a hundred times faster than his head. He couldn't seem to make it stop. Y/n's eyes went wide, she shook her head slightly as if ridding it of a thought.

"Maybe in another afterlife." she joked.

"What if... what if I could... fix this for you."

A pause, tense and full of longing. An intake of breath.

"What do you mean?"

"If you make a contract with another demon, Val's would be void."

"Another demon like you."

"Yes."

"I..."

She trailed off, looking up at him with wide eyes. Her tail wagged once happily behind her before all traces of hope were swallowed once again by the utter desolation.

"I dug my grave, Vox."

"But you don't have to lie in it."

He was practically begging her, his hand on her arm again. He couldn't recall when he had placed it there after her wild movements earlier in detailing her deal had thrown it from her. She looked down, examining the place where flesh made contact with leather. Y/n's eyes met his again, she shook him off.

"One deal is bad enough. Trading chains for chains doesn't change anything."

"But it could."

"Look, Vox. I have to go."

Y/n turned her back on him and opened the door. She hesitated for a moment, leaning on it's edge.

"It was nice to meet you."

Vox watched as she disappeared, the door slamming behind her.

----

A/N It doesn't matter if you guys want a part two or not because there will be one.

[waitmyturtles]

Hey,

I'm not 100% sure how this works. Also this is more of an opinion than a question. I just feel the need to brain dump. You are under no obligation to reply. 😁

I fear that First and Khaotung are being wasted at/by GMMTV. They're both stellar actors and seem to have the sensibilities to tackle more serious material.

I feel like coming off Not Me, the themes in The Eclipse kinda went over my head. My fear was and still is that I didn't understand all the nuances. And that's why I felt like the show was lacking. Also I think the very first preview set it up as an entirely different show (more supernaturalmystery/thriller) in my head, so there was a disconnect there as well.

Their next project was Moonlight Chicken where both of them shined as actors but negligibly as a BL pairing. Having said that, they seem to be on very solid ground in the BL fandom - I am referring to their fan meets.

Only Friends was a masterclass of acting as far as FirstKhaotung were concerned (i was all about Ray and Sand), but I think the overall reputation as show that fell flat on its face overshadowed or at least took away (for me) from the gravity of FK.

And now we're here. With The Heart Killers and I am very wary of how Ota all going down. I see that the final trailer got over million views and I'm happy for them, but based on I think the absolute travesty that was OF, my expectations for this show are on the ground.

I really want more of an insight into how projects are picked up and distributed inside GMMTV (if you ha e any, I'm dying to know). I feel like they would benefit greatly from being on a show like PS I Hate You or something like Peaceful Property.

It feels like they're backsliding in terms of material given. Which I am sure is a) not their fault and b) me possibly being weird and dramatic in the wee hours of the morning. But I wanted to get it off my chest and I was reading your previous reviews when I felt, and then gave into the impulse to write to you.

Also I'm a MaxTul girly too and somehow, you made me want to give Make it Right another chance.

Have a great week ahead and keep up the absolutely exceptional work! ❤️

NIHILISTIC! It's great to hear from you! And thank you for the compliments!

TW for girlies out there who are not Nihilistic: this post will contain criticisms of The Heart Killers trailer. Read at your peril, delicate hearts!

I'll go backwards to save the biggest stuff for last. If you write anything about Make It Right, please tag me! @bengiyo and I always give a little DJ air horn to each other when we've nabbed another one into the broader cultural reconsideration of this AMAZING show. MaxTul, man. Nobody beats them! (Okay, almost, Tul admits he wasn't the strongest actor, but. We'll let it slide, dahling!) Chemistry, humor, pride representation, everything, they're great. I yelped when I saw them in Triage!

Okay, so you are a FirstKhao girlie, and you're worried about what The Heart Killers bodes. (Out of transparency, I have The Heart Killers tag filtered because of Only Friends PTSD. I'm gonna filter my own post!) For you, Nihilistic, I just watched the trailer for it.

I will get to all your questions about the GMMTV model in a moment.

Now, out of even MORE transparency, I am watching the MESS that is Kidnap right now, and listen, it's NOT GOOD. I'm fucking not even writing about it anymore, I'm just reblogging the sessy gifs. I am watching it to support Ohm Pawat, and am hoping that this partnership with Leng Thanaphon will hopefully lead to better scripts.... somewhere. (Or at least, better scripts for Ohm at a place like One31 or Channel 3. I also hope Ohm keeps up his anti-branded pair stance, but if GMMTV forces him to pair permanently with Leng, it won't be a fucking surprise, and more on that below.)

To focus specifically on THK for a sec: the THK trailer evoked a lot of what's gone utterly wrong in Kidnap for me. I think writing Thai BL/Series Y scripts to be different, fresh, and innovative, is just going to be really fucking hard, especially for stories featuring branded pairs that MUST end up together in the end. Because we, the viewers, KNOW that they MUST end up together in the end, what kind of mystery and conflict can a script convincingly evoke to keep us, the viewers, engaged and interested in the drama?

A few of us Ohm girlies were excited that Kidnap could have had non-romantic plot points (CRIME!!!) to drive concurrently with a romance plot. There are Series Y that have done this BEAUTIFULLY, particularly Sammon's stories of Manner of Death and Triage.

I'm sorry to say that I didn't get that from the THK trailer, and that THK smells a lot like Kidnap to me. The trailer itself is giving an indication that the "jobs" these guys have as double agents are going to be compromised due to them falling in love. And after the debacle that was Jojo Tichakorn's Only Friends -- a show premised on the exploration of mean, icky, really horny humans, a great place to start an interesting show! -- knowing that THK will HAVE to end up in a romantic place, with FK and JoongDunk being in memorable and memeable entwinements... that's a lot to ask of a show that already isn't making sense by drive, emotion, and tone in its trailer alone. What matters more to these characters? Their work, or their need to be in monogamous relationships? Seems like the latter to me by way of the trailer, which makes me wonder what the point of the plot is. (Joong's chest, probably.) (Gahddayum.)

(I haven't watched the latest episode of Jack & Joker, btw, but I understand that THIS WEEK's episode is ALSO going through something similar, with dead-end and uncommitted plot points all to get to a kiss. Oy.)

To summarize these points and to touch at your question about how GMMTV chooses scripts: GMMTV has an economic model to sell in giving happy endings to their branded pairs, which I wrote about at length in my Old GMMTV Challenge rewatch of The Eclipse. No matter where a script goes, the ending must be memorable and monogamous to satisfy the retweeting hunger of the branded pairs' fandoms, in order for GMMTV's artists to increase online engagement and to maintain earned media values to sell products.

The wonderful @flowerbeasblog noted to me recently that Tha Sataporn, the CEO of GMMTV, said in an interview that as the productions of Series Y in Thailand continues to increase, there is a greater need for more scriptwriting talent across this niche genre, creating competition for more excellent writing. (By comparison, in the States, when streaming services like Netflix and Hulu starting commissioning more original series just about a decade ago, the demand for scriptwriters and excellent writing also went up by incredible scale -- only to come crashing down recently with pandemic and strike-related losses in revenue.) GMMTV's recently announced script competition, Y Find, updated itself last week with a notice that the company would need more time to sift through scripts to judge. In other words: the demand for creative plots is so high at this company that they are literally fielding entries from the general public.

At the same time, Tha Sataporn has been blunt in indicating that "good shows" are not the priority of his GMMTV, and that talent, management, and engagement are his indicators of success. So, economically -- as long as a show hits that happy ending, and gets the girlies excited online with commentary and purchasing power, then the studio has won, in GMMTV's eyes.

ULTIMATELY, Nihilistic: what we are dealing with regarding your concern, as fans and/or critics of Series Y shows, is a conflict of values, among critical fans like ourselves, other fans who only watch shows for romance and shipping, and the economic bottom lines of the studios/agencies themselves. Some of us just want narratively good scripts, like Bad Buddy or He's Coming To Me. Others are content with having a show end with their fave pairs confirmed together in the end, no matter the process of how they got there. Those are different values we hold in watching shows. I appreciate that while you're a fan of the FK branded pair, that you want stronger scripts for them. I do, too, but that's not a value that every fan -- and GMMTV itself -- holds. And I believe that's why we've been seeing more and more mediocre scripts from that studio in particular.

I actually want to note maybe something positive about FirstKhao. Other than The Eclipse, it seems like they haven't been locked into high school or university settings. Only Friends, Moonlight Chicken -- these are shows that show First's and Khao's characters as young adults, and THK is going there, too. I hope they can avoid the university settings as they continue to work.

Is stellar acting wasted at GMMTV? Oh, yes. Besides First and Khao, who I truly think are good actors, we have Gun Atthaphan, Nanon Korapat, and Ohm Pawat -- these three guys are on my list of the best Thai actors out there who have done BL, and they haven't had great scripts in years. (Gun, arguably, has had the best pickings of decent shows recently in Cooking Crush and The Trainee, but they weren't high art; and Nanon's Dirty Laundry was the last Jojo script I was truly impressed by.) All three of these guys were in MOVIES at one point. Those ambitions, on behalf of these actors by GMMTV, seem to have gone by the wayside in preference for a huge economic push to boost branded pair-based series insteads, with their plot holes and guaranteed romances.

I hope the genre's tide turns for the sake of quality scripts, especially at GMMTV, but my hopes are low for this agency at the moment. My joy in Thai shows recently has been in watching past shows for my OGMMTVC. I've been on a lakorn kick lately, having watched The Miracle of Teddy Bear and I'm looking forward to watching Khun Chai soon. Other agencies and studios, like One31 and Channel 3, are breathing down GMMTV's neck and producing more interesting shows, sometimes with branded pairs and sometimes not. Triage only came out two years ago, and that show's trilogy (along with Manner of Death) will end with this year's airing of Spare Me Your Mercy, starring the very likely one-time pair of Tor Thanabob and JJ (Jaylerr) Krissanapoom, two gigantic artists in Thailand who are circling BACK towards the much smaller genre of Series Y for SMYM's sake. I have VERY high hopes and expectations for that show -- and that show is well out of the purview of GMMTV.

I think what you're smelling about the THK trailer is right, Nihilistic -- to me, the trailer isn't cohesive, and jumps already to its forgone conclusion of a romantic end. Unfortunately, for those of us familiar with Jojo Tichakorn's work, we know that if he was given more leeway, he'd likely come up with something more interesting. But now that he has to work with branded pairs -- who are shipped in the eyes of their fan beholders -- he's got a lot less room to be creative and interesting, which ultimately stifles the otherwise excellent acting we'd see from these young men.

[xxsycamore]

LIGHTS, CAMERA, ACTION

╰┈➤🎥 Filming with Liam Evans is a dream come true. Every line he delivers, every small movement of his sculptured forms… you're far too immersed to remain level-headed, and you're yet to see him naked. This can't be good.

Liam Evans x f!Reader • rating: E (MDNI) • tags: Porn Star AU; Porn actors; Porn Video; mentions of burglary and stalking (from the porn plot); Celebrity Crush; Cunnilingus; Oral Sex; Vaginal Sex • wordcount: 1,558 • masterlist

a/n: Special thanks to Liz (@candiedcoffeedrops) for the porn plot idea and to Drac (@drachonia) for enabling me so much. It's been a hot minute since I've been able to write anything, thank you for the encouragement guys <3

Visions of Temptation 2024/KINKTOBER DAY 1: Porn Actors AU

"Now, we can settle things nice and peacefully here, can't we? You can go ahead and call the cops on me for burglary, or you can let me try and change your mind first."

The unexpected offer nearly cracks your resolve, tense facial muscles twitching as your brow rises up just a tad. You're willing to listen, and the man in front of you notices that. He tilts his head to the side in a playful manner, unsuited for the severe situation.

"Don't try to hide it. I know your bed has been awfully empty lately…"

It definitely was a mistake, giving him the opportunity to speak. You know this must have been him collecting information for his planned theft but the thought of being stalked like this still sends unpleasant shivers down your spine. In lieu of a weapon, you hold on tighter to the phone in your hand, shooting daggers at the stranger in your bedroom. Crossing your arms in front of your chest, the long sleeves of your luxurious pink home robe suited for the lady of the house flutter around you.

"You have five seconds to change my mind."

His eyes widen slightly upon your proposition, just enough to show that enchanting magenta color. He approaches you with a feline step, and you do your best to be sturdy despite the growing anticipation. What would he do?

He gambles with his time. Whatever his course of action, he wastes too many seconds staring right into your eyes, and too little for anything else. And again, why are you hoping for anything else? He's closer now. You give no signs of resistance, and so he doesn't hold back.

A pair of lips land on your own. You don't dare breathe, and he doesn't dare invade your mouth - he's just there, a hot breath, a butterfly-light touch.

"I can treat you to some good time, and then you'll let me go. How does it sound? Think about it."

He whispers that in your ear. In response, you just slowly withdraw and take a look at him.

"And…Cut!"

A voice coming from behind you nearly makes you jump, forcing you right back into the reality of your surroundings. You got caught a little too much into that opening scene, but can you be blamed? Filming with Liam Evans is a dream come true. Every line he delivers, every small movement of his sculptured forms… you're far too immersed to remain level-headed, and you're yet to see him naked. This can't be good.

His role in this adult movie is not far from his usual repertoire. While he can transform into pretty much everything that's thrown at him, this bad-boy look fits him remarkably. A burglar breaking and entering into your home, bribing you with some good time, fully well knowing the risk he's taking and being just that confident in his skills. Liam is even more flawless when you're seeing him act up close. You're able to notice so much more this way - the way adrenaline colors his features, the daring gaze as he plays with fire - it's almost as if he's experiencing the thrill firsthand.

"You're both brilliant, I'm telling you! We'll begin the next scene with you two on the bed in the middle of undressing. Remember, Liam, nothing is decided yet. You have to win her over, to earn your freedom. Serve her like she's your mistress. You're entirely at her will!"

Tom's enthusiastic hand gestures make Liam speed up gulping the contents of his water bottle just so he can laugh at the director. You can't help but be sympathetic, he hardly needs those details after all.

"I think we got it, Tom." Liam pats his friend on the shoulder, yet his eyes never seem to leave yours. "We should keep going!"

In the commotion of spotlights being moved around the queen-sized bed in haste and cameras getting in position, you manage not to miss the intriguing little detail that Liam doesn't need any "preparation". It's hardly your first time being on set, yet you can't recall your male co-star getting a hard-on from a cliched prelude to the act…and one innocent kiss. But this really is happening, as everyone including you gets in position, and you can all but see the bulge in Liam's pants in your peripheral vision.

The camera starts rolling, however, and all you can focus on right now is making out with Liam. His hands are quickly put to work, and you know it will only get harder to be mindful of limbs blocking the view when he robs you of your concentration like that. Your robe pools on the bed around you, and Liam already has his face shoved in your chest, taking noisy mouthfuls of breather as he kisses your hot skin.

The contrast of him carefully taking off your underwear versus haphazardly discarding his own clothing only highlights how focused he is on serving you. The skillful tip of his tongue turns your nubs into hard peaks as he toys with your breasts.

By the time you're both fully nude and in the middle of another passionate kiss, your withdrawal is combined with a hand making its way towards Liam's beautiful hardness. Your insides throb at the sight of it, mind occupied with thoughts about having it inside you. Last time you had a good look at it, he was on the screen on your phone, and your hand was inside your underwear. Even now that this same hand is caressing him, you find it hard to believe…

Wait, you're not supposed to do that.

Anxiety materializes heavily in your chest, almost choking you out as you expect to hear an abrupt pausing of the scene. Feeling Liam's gaze on you, you return it, albeit with little expectation - and the shock on your features is genuine when Liam takes hold of your hand, and then of your other one, and pins you down to the bed.

He's improvising. Even if he was instructed to be completely at your mercy…

Next thing you know, Liam's head moves down between your parted legs until you find your hot centered attacked by his tongue. You sense a camera closing in to capture his performance between your legs and while in the throes of pleasure, you seem to realize this didn't spoil the scenario at all. The slight change in your dynamics doesn't mean Liam isn't as starved to please you as he was in the beginning - what's more, the measured amount of dominance in the simple gesture should be just enough to make the viewers go crazy.

You know it because it works on you.

Not a prisoner to your own worries anymore, you have little to do other than receiving Liam's masterful methods at making you soar to the heavens. The last thought lingering in your mind before you orgasm is that there simply can't be any co-star of his that has ever had to fake this.

As per the script, you have to let him pleasure you like this for some time until you start begging to be fucked - which proves to be as easy as breathing at this point, and the moment he pierces you with his cock, you can't help the full body shiver that runs through you rather noticeably. What was he bribing you for, again? Your heroine can't remember. All she cares about right now is taking her full of this handsome stranger.

Soon Tom announces another cut and you internally lament the loss of the perfect doggy position Liam had you in. For the money shot, Liam is to take you in missionary, pulling out last minute to ejaculate across your belly. You wish this burglar was a little more daring, but alas, you're not the director.

White hot takes over your vision as your head tosses back, eyes squeezed shut, orgasming one last time for the session. You don't relax just yet though, playing your next line in your head to make sure you remember it, even as you sense the hot emission of Liam's come land across your front all the way to your heavying chest. Tom is going to be happy with how this turned out.

"So? Did I manage to change your mind?"

Turning towards the smug expression looking forward to your response, you card your fingers through your disheveled hair and smirk back at him.

"I'm afraid you're in far deeper trouble now."

Despite the indication for round two, a direction who's not you decided this is where the film should end. Fair. Either way, you're likely going to feel that in your bones all the way to your home, and likely after that too.

A hand appears in front of you and you see Liam standing up next to the bed, offering you a handshake.

"Hope to work with you again someday."

You raise from your sitting position and accept his hand, giving him your best smile despite your quickening heartbeat. "Likewise. You're amazing, Mr. Evans, I hope to get close to your proficiency someday!"

Liam chuckles, leaning in just one step closer as he lowers his voice. "Just Liam is fine. And if you need any help, advice, practice, anything, just get in contact with me, okay?"

Practice…?

"Will surely do so!"

Taglist: @arsnovacadenza @kimi00twin @g-kleran @thesirenwashere @devonares @galaxyprison @sadshaxk @starshards26 @thewitchofbooks @acethephoenix256 @ikevamp-shrine-2 @nad-zeta @crystal13unny @lordsister @ikemen-banshou   @themysticalbeing @otome-scribbles @rhodolitesrose @coornn @kpop-and-otome @queen-dahlia @kisara-16 @chaosangel767 @ikemenlibrary @queengiuliettafirstlady @aurora-morning @ikemenlover24 @mcofthemansion @joy-the-reader @katriniac @ikemen-writer @tele86 @lovely-bubb1es @aria-chikage @babyblue0t7 @rhodoliteschaos @shrimpy-kitsune @nightghoul381 @xbalayage @lucyw260 @kittygrimm88 @lokis-laugh @natimiles @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf @groovylita Let me know if you want to be tagged/untagged!

[controld3vil]

costume mishaps

pairing(s): dune 2 cast x actor!reader (platonic!)

synopsis: requested by this ask, & 2!!

⤷ alt: costume mishaps happen all the time.

notes: when i saw the film, i just knew they were going be awarded best costume. LIKE princess irulan dressed up to be taken hostage. also actor!reader is referenced to have hair long enough to be braided. also this might be the last installment i do for the dune cast, i apologize but it's been slowly fallin off for me. but if i get motivated, ill be so sure writing more :)

Only recently film channels have released behind-the-scenes footage of Dune: Part Two. One of which went in depth about each important character.

When it came to your character, Denise Villeneuve placed much emphasis on wanting to find an energetic spirit. Someone who can channel childlike wonder and at the same time, play a menacing and emotional one. And for that, you were chosen and had always appreciated Denny's choice of you.

"Nerre's, they're essential to the House Atreidas. They grew up under their rule, with Paul, and have the mentality of what it means to be loyal to the things you love and hold. And I think," Fondly, Denise murmurs your name with a smile. "They delivered what was needed for the character." Shortcuts of shots of you in the desert exhibited your enthusiasm for the project. You're constantly smiling, at the joy of people's laughter. It was as if you were born to play Nerre, resembling much of their attitude and spirit.

At the end of Villeneuve's talk, it quickly moves to another shot into the desert.

"I can't do this Denny!" From far away, it zooms toward your figure, sitting at the edge of a valley of sand. In costume and everything, the only thing that discerned different was you were missing your headgear. Your locks, loose and free from any shackle you previously had, are long gone. The sunset hits your face directly and only elevates the sad pout on your lips. "Can I please put my hair up?!"

Beside you, the Paul Atreides actor sits with one leg over the other, giggling, holding his fist up to distract himself from your petty endeavor. It was fortunate today that the wind was kind. Yet it bothered you apparently, as you try to readjust strands of your hair away from your face every few seconds. There were faint shouts behind the camera and muffled current, comments that were directed back to you.

"No, it's a part of the scene!" Denise hollers, cupping his hands into a circle. A few familiar faces show up beside the director, amused and chuckling joyfully. The sun would soon be gone and it is a waste of film if you did not comply with the director's order. Yet as the video picks up, you shamelessly and eventually accept your fate, crossing your arms, and glaring at him.

In another, your annoyance grew further. Your persistence towards Denise was undeniably petty and unnecessary. It was another day shoot, with the sun glaring back on the desert lands and everything it lays its eyes on. In particular, you who is braided with loose and intricate braids on your hair. You were even advised, more encouraged to grow your locks out for the film. Which you happily followed and now regret to this day.

"I really want to just," You scoot towards the camera's view so nobody can hear except you and the cameraman. "Yank all of the hair from my scalp! The heat's killing me!"

It switches to a sit down interview of you, slowly diffusing your voice on top of the footage to connect both portions on what you were trying to convey. "Now obviously, I was exaggerating," As you nervously laughed at yourself. You're not sitting in front of the movie poster. You were in casual outing clothes and showed off a relaxed manner, "But Denny did request for me to grow out my hair for the film- not just to show that time has passed but a part of their maturity. It's not extravagant but a small change that gradually will show later on."

Your character did not have a dramatic wardrobe change. More or less, the production team wanted to include small changes to your outfits. In the first film, you were dressed in a simple Fremen still suit, with not much other than the mask attached to it.

You did not have many options to customize. Everyone's was the same, with few alternations. You were aware for Paul, Timothee adorned a long hooded cape and extra layers of fabric behind his back. Rebecca took a completely different change and discarded the Fremen attire altogether. In the sequel, she had to wear multiple layers covering her body to represent the Reverend Mother of the Fremen people.

"Just one change, that's all I'm asking!" You recited a previous conversation you had with the director. Another Dune behind-the-scenes documentary, it showcased the intricate works of the costume designers. A beautiful work of art. Every single piece of fabric was handmade and crafted. And of course, you who couldn't help but praise their efforts and reminisce the the first time you wore the still suit again before shooting.

"I remember desperately wanting a cool cape or something. And in the end, I got what I wanted!"

A cool compilation showed you running around in the Fremen attire for the first few shoots of Dune's sequel Sometimes you run off into the distance with your cape, flying behind your back. Or the times when you flipped it over your head for extra protection. Even on other occasions where you are the one fanning your cloak for your costars like Florence Pugh or Rebecca Ferguson.

"Yes, they were happy when we gave them a cape," One of the costume designers who specialized in Fremen wear said in a quick interview. She spoke of you with hearted tenderness as like many of the other designers appreciated your participation with Denise on what to change. "We also thought it would be cool to add a few chains and charms- if you see around their waist area to show how long they've been living in the desert. Things you pick up like scrap metal or maybe materials they had from their home planet that bring homage to them. We thought it would be a cool idea for Nerre, in their time, they would be scavenging for things to bring back home."

Although the most well-known shot of you was with your well-acquainted costume. Timothee and you were walking side by side in between a long valley. It was a thin canyon, built upon tall feet of rocks and dusk. The camera crew and others were careful to walk the ancient monuments. All of the Fremen extras were following behind last. In the scene together, you and Timothee were discussing plans while striding through the rocky corridor. Josh Brolin was at the side to your right and Zendaya was on Timothee's left.

But what the documentary picks up on is what happened after the scene. Right after the scene, captures the two of your mischievous and harmless banter. All of the extras and film crew scurried out of view. Zendaya can be seen sitting by a nearby ledge.

It captures you, jumping in pace to wake yourself up. Or maybe because your feet were asleep. Eventually, the French actor joins you, following the rhythm of your jumping. It's comical how casual random occurrences happen around you and your younger cast mates. To the average person on set, it was the norm to see you and Timothee replicate childish acts.

Viewers can pick up a muffled conversation as the two of you continue to bounce in unison. "You tired?"

"I feel numb!" You quicked your pace slowly and your costar continued to stare at your movements to follow. With the additional shade the canyon provided, the heat wasn't an issue but the humidity was. Zendaya who was resting behind gave you an encouraging laugh when you began to spin and jump clockwise.

Eventually, you and Timothee went back and forth to copying each other. It led to a game of tag, which dispersed people into making a circle in the middle of the road for you to play. At some point, Timothee managed to grab onto your hooded cloak which halts you backwards. Thus it was an infamous funny blooper viewers can seen reposted over thousands of times.

With him holding your cape, and slowly going under as if performing a dance.

Even when asked about that particular clip on the carpet, you both only shared dotting reminisce and giggles.

"He almost made me fall when he grabbed my cape," You huffed, pointing at the said perpetrator while the interviewer, holding the microphone looked his way accusingly. Timothee doesn't deny your claims as he blatantly grins, happily on the special moment.

"Wow!"

"I mean, I think I won that tag game but sure," The brunette sarcastically directs his eyes toward the veil behind your back that replicated the cloak cape you wore in the movie. "You could've gotten hurt."

"Yes, because you were about to rip that thing off my neck!" You emphasized greatly into the microphone which had the interviewer throw out a chuckle. Timothee breaks as well but regains his posture before glancing at anyone behind who wants to defend him.

"I think a rematch would be in order," They added, earning hums from you, only fueling your competitive drive.

"Obviously!"

"You wanna go right now?" Timothee speaks up, emitting false confidence as he puffs up his chest. You do the same, despite knowing you are at a disadvantage for not wearing a flexible outfit to run in.

"Yeah if you're game!" You shouted back, cracking your knuckles as a few paparazzi snapped photos of your hilarious rivalry. Within seconds, he taps your shoulder before running off in the opposite direction. It leaves you off, gawking in surprise before chasing him down the carpet, struggling as you run past your other cast members and cameras.

By the end of the night, the two of you were in a tie. You won, in revelation to everyone's surprise as a picture was posted online of you posing with rock and roll peace signs and Timothee holding up the veil that was attached to your outfit, replicating the previous video.

"I have a question,"

This was the BuzzFeed UK interview. For all the five younger cast members to sit down and talk with one another. Really more of a natural and informal discussion that didn't need to pertain to obvious questions about the film. Everyone sat in comfortable sofa chairs of their own, each receiving their own microphone.

It was Florence who spoke, directly eyeing Austin Butler to your left side. Your eyes followed her insulated question, but your mind was unbothered. Your fingers unconsciously fiddled and scratched the mic as your blonde costar asked, "Your bald cap, at what point in the day were you like God I can't wait to get it off!"

Your stoic expression broke into a warm smile, remembering all the times you've seen Austin in his Feyd costume. "It's a good question."

"When did it get uncomfortable and sticky?"

"After lunch?"

"Yeah yeah I mean it kind of got to a point where I did- I would forget, it just feels like it's a part of you and I was focused on so many other things, but it's usually when it got really hot," The Princess Irulan's actress mumbles in agreement, "Particularly the arena scene cause I'm outside in the sun and it's 110 degrees and that's on your head. I just would- want to cut the damn thing off."

It earns honest chuckles from Florence and Zendaya who both agreed. A few seconds later, it cuts to you with a knowing smile before speaking up into the microphone, "At least you didn't have to deal with all of your hair- and mess," Additional hums from the others joined as Austin chokes out a laugh, before taking a second glance at you.

"I mean yeah- there are a few positives to wearing a cap," He shrugs his shoulders, knowing how you'd react to his casual response meant to be teasing.

"What was your experience like?" Florence turns the question towards you. She states your name accordingly as if seriously questioning you. Your head turns and you give her a look before answering.

"Madness," Only to be returned with huffs and pants, mostly coming from Zendaya who knew well of your petty endeavors with your hair and makeup. "I wouldn't say it was worse or better but god, the extreme heat from the desert really sold me cutting my hair short." From your side, Austin squints his eyes, unable to take your sarcasm seriously. While you can see Timothee on the far side of the group, humorlessly shaking his head as you try to reaffirm yourself.

"I think out of everyone, you take the most with hair and makeup beside Austin," The mixed actress addressed, clasping her hands together with the microphone in-between. Florence hums and you nod your head far too quickly, only to be caught by your French costar.

He calls out your name, "You take like forever in the chair, what's up with that?" Suddenly you feel the air change as you give an accused look, trying to play innocent.

"Some people take their time longer in the chair okay," You huffed and puffed as you glanced around the room. Luckily Austin decided to help on your side, empathizing with how long it takes for him to prepare in the chair.

"Both of us gotta take care of our hair you know," He adds, quickly lowering his microphone which leads a twinkle in your eyes as you gleam adoringly at him.

"Yes exactly!"

"Wow really?"

"Okay but the bald cap requires much more time and precision. You're just taking a long time and can't sit still," Florence buts in, moving closer to the edge of her seat.

You gawk at her, grasping the nonexistent pearls on your chest as you can discern Timothee and Zendaya's laughter. "Where did all of this hostility come from?"

"You know what? Ever since you broke my headpiece!" There were gasps and your blonde costar only looked at you, with a cold funny stare. Your jaw drops, knowing it was the few incidents you wanted to erase from your memory.

"Did you really break her headpiece?" Timothee sighs at you in disappointment. He gives you a fake frown before you turn to the camera, looking at the audience, unbelievable how the tables quickly turned.

"The tea!"

"First it was minor, only a few of the shards dropped." You raised your index finger, then cast eye contact with each person, "And not to mention, Florence, you let me touch it!" This time, it was Zendaya who gasped in astonishment, looking back and forth.

"I guess this was how the holy war started," Timothee speaks indistinctly, cupping one of his hands on the mic. Only to be heard of your exclamations in bewilderment.

[dizscreams]

Show Off — Jack Champion ★

PAIRING: Jack Champion x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: Jack showing off ur matching necklaces during an instagram live

A/N: “honestly i know u had a thought abt the instagram live one and i feel like with him you could do a lot with answering questions and then him going over to readers dresser and showing the necklace and maybe some fluff when reader comes back?” A LITTLE COLLAB FROM ME AND @ang3lik <33 I KNOW I HAD SAID INTERVIEW WHEN I CAME UP WITH THE IDEA so I hope you guys don’t mind that I switched it to a instagram live! I just couldn’t think of a way to start the interview idea I’m sorry :(

He toyed with the initial of your first name on the gold chain he wore around his neck while thinking of what to do. You weren’t at home with him, you were at work which he was very bummed out about. Luckily being in your room comforted him as he waited for you to arrive home.

He wasn’t snooping around or anything he just missed you and your bed was comfortable. Plus the room smelt like you and he liked admiring all the posters and decorations you had in your room.

He looked at the clock, it hadn’t changed from when he looked at it just 30 seconds ago. He groaned and kept scrolling through Instagram pretty bored out of his mind and not really paying attention to his feed. After thinking of what he could do he decided it might be a fun idea to go live. Why not? He’d never done one of his own before, well he’s never done one now that he’s gained popularity.

He made sure he looked presentable and looked at the ‘Go Live’ button. He wasn’t sure what he’d do, probably just talk to fans and hope it wasn’t boring. He had a feeling they’d eat it up though. Lately, it seemed he could breathe and everyone would go wild. It amused him to be completely honest.

He propped up his phone and sat against the headboard of your bed and pressed ‘Go Live’.

Once it started he awkwardly played with his hands waiting for people to join. It didn’t take long, in about 2-3 minutes there was already a bunch of people flooding the chat with ‘hi’s’ and ‘love you’s’ and a bunch of questions. They weren’t anything specific just about him and his job, he was grateful they weren’t too invasive.

user97027: hii jack! are you working on any new films right now??

He saw the comment as it quickly flashed by, “Yeah I am actually, I’ve been working on Freaky Tales and Everything’s Going to Be Great. So yeah, I’m excited for you guys to see those,” he said with a soft smile across his face.

user88992: did you always want to be an actor?

“Uh, it wasn’t really planned,” he chuckled, “just the day I found out you could get paid for acting and it was a legitimate job I was immediately on board,” he talked with his hands as he answered the question. He leaned forward with his eyes squinted a bit, trying to find another question.

user561183: Jack!! Who would you say inspires you the most?

“Oh man that’s a good question, who inspires me the most,” he repeated the question as he put his chin in his palm and lightly tapped his fingers across his cheek as he thought of a good answer. “I’d have to say my castmastes and my family definitely. Oh! And my girlfriend, of course. They’re all very supportive of me.”

He slightly laughed as a bunch of “awe’s” ran through the chat. He scanned through the chat, almost getting a little bored cause of how awkward he felt. It wasn’t uncomfortable for him he just wasn’t used to this but he liked talking with his followers nonetheless. As he was about to come up with an excuse to log off he saw a question that made his eyes light up.

user336473: what’s the initial on your necklace stand for?

He wasted no time in answering, “The initial on my necklace is my girlfriend’s! She actually has a matching one but it has my initial instead. I could probably show you guys, one second. She didn’t take it to work today” He explained as he got up, taking his phone with him, and excitedly waddled over to your vanity. Jack propped his phone on a little stand up mirror you had and gently took the piece of jewelry and held it up. “Isn’t it cute? I got these for us on our 6 month anniversary,” he told his viewers as he proudly smiled.

A knock on your door made him quip his head towards the entrance of your room, “Jack, you in there?” He looked at his camera whisper shouting a little “She’s backk! Hold on,” he then looked back at the door, “Come in!” he yelled.

Once he saw your figure opening the door a lovey smile adorned his face. He was head over heels for you and made no effort to hide it. “Oh hey babe, I was just showing them our matching necklaces.”

“Them?” You asked raising an eyebrow.

“Mhm, I’m on instagram live,” he softly grabbed your hand giving it a chaste kiss before bringing you in front of the camera. “Guys this is y/n my girlfriend, y/n these are my instagram followers,” he introduced with a goofy smile as he wrapped his hands around your waist and gave the back of your head a kiss.

You looked at the chat, which was gushing with comments about how cute you two were. It made you smile as you remember what he told you when you came in, “Wait, you were showing them our necklaces?”

“Yeah! Someone asked about it and I think I started rambling,” Jack explained as he toyed with the chain that was still in his hands suddenly getting an idea, “Can I put it on you?” He whispered into your hair so only you could hear. You nodded at his question not being able to contain the shy smile on your face as he let go of your waist and put your hair to rest on your left shoulder, giving you goosebumps. Once he made sure none of your hair would be in the way he undid the necklace and slowly put it around your neck. He made sure it was centered properly and closed the clasp, “Perfect,” he said as he gave a sweet kiss to your cheek.

“You’re such a show off, Jack,” you laughed at his shocked expression as he put a hand on his heart with a small scoff, “What?! Can you blame me for wanting to show you off? Look at you!” He told you as his signature goofy smile reappeared on his face causing you to laugh more. “No I guess not,” you smirked as you gave him a kiss on the cheek as a thank you, causing him to get a little flustered. To be honest you both kinda forgot you were live, you were too busy wrapped up in each other, until Butters entered the room meowing so loud you and Jack snapped out of your love sick gazes and turned to him.

“Aw, what is it, Butters?” Jack asked as he went over and picked the cat up and cradled him like he was his baby, technically he was. Butters only answered with another meow causing you to pet him on the head, “I think he’s hungry,” you looked up at Jack. Another meow followed.

“Alright, I hear you Butters,” he turned back to the camera where he saw the chat freaking out about the adorable moment you two just shared, “We have to go but thank you all for joining. Byeee!” He disconnected the live and quickly put Butters down.

You looked up at him confused but didn’t get to say a word before Jack was kissing your lips. You kissed back and pulled away after a few moments. “What was that for?”

He shrugged, “I dunno, I’ve just been wanting to do it all day,” he said as he smirked. As he was leaning in for another, his movements got cut off by another loud meow from Butters. Jack groaned as he put his head on your shoulder and you laughed as you lifted his head up and slightly pushed Jack’s curls from out of his eyes before you kissed his forehead, “C’mon lets go,” You grabbed his hand and you followed Butters into the kitchen.

He had a lazy smile on his face with hearts in his eyes. This man was so whipped for you.

HOPE YOU ENJOYED! I love this sm <33

tags: @ashlesys-blog @wekiamo @dizzyscreams

[cinnamostar]

three dates to fall in love

part one. part two. part three. part four. part five (here). part six (coming soon).

pairing : hyunjin x gn!reader

summary : after a two year long unspoken hatred, hyunjin and you are forced to be costars in a romantic series, but when it comes to filming any of the romance scenes, you both utterly fail and are unable to get through your lines. the director threatens to take your roles away if you two aren't able to get past this within the next week, which spawns the genius idea from both your managers: can you learn to (fake) fall in love in seven dates and save your careers?

wc : 2.5k

cw : actor!au, enemies to lovers ?!, slowburn , not proofread, nothing crazy :)

a/n : im back from my hiatus and omggg i graduated from my masters program wahoooo! here's part five. let me know what you think! theres not much going on here to be honest........ its pretty chill

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“Yo,” Changbin answers from the other end of the line, his heavy breaths echoing through the call.

“Are you still working out?” Hyunjin asks incredulously, pulling the phone back to check the time, “You said you were going to the gym two hours ago and you’re still there?”

“Gotta keep these bad boys in shape, ya know?” Changbin teases, a giggle ringing through as he is most, (and he is), checking himself out in the mirror, “What’s up though? Did you just get home?”

“At this point, you look more like a bodyguard than my manager.”

“I take that as a compliment! Thank you very much, but I believe you have something to discuss with me, hm?”

“I mean, it went well?” Hyunjin responds with uncertainty in his voice, causing Changbin to sigh from the other end of the line.

“Is that all..? Are you just going to call me every time to tell me only that?” Changbin asks with annoyance, unable to understand the actor’s unwillingness to share anything more about the arrangement he found himself in. “You know, I’ll just end up calling Chan and hearing it from him instead…”

“Huh?”

Changbin smirks to himself, knowing that would capture the younger’s attention, “Yeah, you know, Y/N has a lot to say. I know all about it. It’s the only way I know how things are going.”

“What do they say?”

“Why do you care?”

“I just do.”

“And I should tell you because…?”

Hyunjin frowns at the back-and-forth, feeling peeved Changbin, his manager, wasn’t divulging any information upfront, “Because I’m the one going on dates with them and I should probably know…?”

“I’ll tell you if you tell me how today went.”

“It went well, I already told you that.”

“Tough luck, buddy, that won’t do. How unfair, especially when Y/N has sooo much to say,” Changbin dramatically mocks a sob, “Yet you, oh, you have so little to offer. It’s like you’re not enjoying any of it.”

Hyunjin rolls his eyes at his antics, frustration bubbling within him, “I am enjoying it and it is going well. Is that good enough for you?”

“Nope.”

“Okay.”

“Okay… So, can I hang up now?”

“No.”

“So you want me to stay on the phone in silence with you?” Changbin asks, a smirk still plastered on his face because he knew, eventually, Hyunjin would relent to Changbin’s teasing. It was always like this, Hyunjin was hard to read and never shared much with Changbin, which honestly makes his job as his manager a lot more difficult than he’d like. The only times Hyunjin would be transparent with him about his emotions was when he was complaining about something, or the time he panickedly called him after his very unfortunate date with you, and how he realized what a big mistake he had made. Other than that, Hyunjin lips were always sealed tight. Either because he was a private person or was bad at vocalizing his feelings, Channgbin didn’t know, but he was getting annoyed at Hyunjin calling him after every day with the same three words every time. ‘It went well.’ God, those words were pissing him off and he felt like his time was being wasted because now, he had to call Chan and find out from him what was going on. After another few moments of silence, Changbin sighs once more, “Okay, I’m hanging up now —”

“N-no, wait!” Hyunjin interrupts him, a slight tremor in his voice.

“Okay, now I’m waiting.”

“Today went well, and I know I already said that, let me finish,” rambles Hyunjin, the words slowly clawing their wait up his throat, “It’s just… it’s a lot nicer than I thought it would have been. They’re super kind and welcoming to me even though I was a complete asshole to them.”

Changbin smiles victoriously to himself, ecstatic to finally hear this simple, yet salient confession out of the younger boy, “Oh, that’s good then. Sounds like they’re doing their best to make it work.”

“Yes, but I also… feel really bad about it too,” Hyunjin grimaces at the guilt he had been trying to ignore, it sneaking up to the forefront of his mouth as he speaks, “I really don’t think I deserve any of this from them, but they’re treating me sorta like nothing ever happened before and it’s a little weird to get use to this side of them. The more I realize how wrong I was about them, the shittier I feel.”

“Man, I don’t blame you, but I think you gotta give yourself some credit. It sounds like you both are handling this weird situation the best you can. Have you told them this?”

“Yeah, and that’s what makes this feel worse. They were so sweet about it, they comforted me when I was the one who hurt them,” groans Hyunjin, pinching the bridge of his nose as he squeezes his eyes shut, “And they… they said they need time to forgive me, which is fine! I get that entirely, but… I don’t think I’ll be able to forgive myself until they do?”

“Mhm, I understand what you’re feeling isn’t easy, but don’t you think you should at least try to be nicer to yourself? I mean… It sounds like Y/N cares about you enough, and if they want you to feel better about the situation, shouldn’t you try for their sake?”

“I guess, but it’s not that easy, Changbin –”

“I never said it was easy,” Changbin responds pointedly, “But wallowing up in guilt is no way to be living either, I’m sure Y/N knows that too and doesn’t want you beating yourself up this much about it when you’re both trying to move forward.”

“I don’t know…”

“Just give it a try, it won’t hurt. You can hold yourself accountable and still be nice to yourself. Alright, but I have to go now, so byeee!”

Hyunjin frowns, “Wait, no, you’re supposed to tell me–” only for him to be cut off by the sound of the call ending, “... what Y/N said…”

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Hyunjin decided to take both yours and Changbin’s advice to heart and do his very best to practice compassion, yet he forgot how terribly difficult that was until the next day arrived. In theory, it should be simple to just be nicer to himself, but his heart kept contorting and aching with guilt throughout the day, it becoming too much to bear as he tried to figure out how to control that emotion. He had to eventually learn to be in your presence without that harrowing, bottomless pit that would form in his stomach, especially if you two were going to be costars for the rest of filming.

So here he was, his face and ears tinged with red as he sat across you on a picnic blanket, an assortment of foods between you two, and a gentle breeze causing locks of your hair to dance. Despite the chilly weather, Hyunjin could feel himself being covered in what he can only describe as a cold sweat while his stomach flipped onto himself. He was nervous, anxious even, and he had zero clue on how to deal with what he called guilt, shame, humiliation. He wasn’t sure which word was the best descriptor for this very moment, but he could barely sit still, constantly fidgeting as he tried to turn his gaze away from you, hoping the blues of the lake would ease his nerves that had not stopped rapid firing since noon. 

“You okay?” You ask, lifting a sushi piece to your mouth as you eyed Hyunjin with a cocked up eyebrow.

He freezes up for a moment, before forcing a nervous smile with a nod, “Oh, yeah, I’m fine!” He tries to force his voice into a more cheery tone, but he can tell you could see right through him. Somehow, you could read the faintest microexpressions from him, but he’s thankful to see you shrug your shoulders and not press on any further. It was almost as if you had the ability to read his mind, knowing when it was right to question his behavior or just let him revel in his own thoughts.

“Well, you should eat some more! I need some help finishing all this food Changbin ordered for us,” you laugh, picking up a piece of sushi between your chopsticks and lifting it towards him, “Here, open up!” you say in a teasing tone.

He rolls his eyes, “You know, I can feed myself,” but he felt his stomach bubble up with inexorable nerves, his words almost getting caught in his throat. You playfully pout at his words, “Oh, c’mon, just eat it! I know you want to.” You wiggle the sushi in front of his face in some poor attempt to entice him, but it was only causing him to become uncomfortably warm as he did his best to look anywhere that wasn’t your face. “Fine, fine,” he responds, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible as he opens his mouth as you plop the sushi into it, the beating of his heart thumping loudly in his ears. 

“Good, right?” You smile.

He nods his head, his eyes crinkling at the overwhelming flavor as hums in agreement, “Wow, yeah, which one was that?” 

“Mmm, I think that one is toro salmon? I’m not sure,” you giggle at his reaction, feeling pleased with yourself that you managed to whittle away at the awkwardness he wore around you. Hyunjin was constantly on edge around you, the nerves obvious in the frown lines of his forehead, and while you could understand why, you were hoping he would start to loosen up around you as time went on. Despite everything that has occurred over the past two years, you were starting to yearn for the friendship you and Hyunjin once had and wished to be able to return to that comforting time. 

However, it was never that simple, as your desire for his friendship was often overshadowed with memories of his cruel words, how easily he spat them out to you without a moment of hesitation. A moment of innocent banter could just take you back to that time because somehow, his banter and cruelty shared a similar inflection, just enough to cause your eyes to prick with tears if you noticed it. The lasting impact his words had on you was a stark reminder for you to not so easily forgive him, to not forget what he was once capable of. But no matter how hard you tried to look past it and solely focus on your friendship with him, there was this inexplicable rift between you two, a hurdle neither you could just quite jump over, though perhaps it was this mutual understanding that allowed you both to understand each others’ quietness. It was strange, you two had become strangers that understood the language your souls’ whispered, but neither retained that fluency and were struggling to recall the words you once spoke.

The silence returns, enveloping you both as the wind hushedly howls, the sounds of birds chirping filling in the empty pages of dialogue as you each continue to eat. Every now and then someone would comment on the food, how good it tasted and thanking God for letting Changbin set up such a delicious day, finishing the last bits of sashimi that was left on the plate.

“Oh jeez, I’m so full,” you mutter, sleepiness slowly creeping its way into your body, “Ah, but we gotta take pictures, I don’t wanna deal with a whiny Changbin.”

Hyunjin snorts, knowing all too well the fit his manager would throw if his date plans were not followed through, especially when he made it clear to the both of you that he wanted proof that you two actually did take those pictures. All he wanted was for each of you to take photos of the other, a mini photoshoot by the lake, while also insisting it would be a great post for either of your instagrams. “Yeah, let's not do that to ourselves.” He lifts himself up from the floor, anxiously offering a hand to help you up, quickly retracting after you stood while ignoring the electric nerves bouncing at the palm of his hands. 

“I’ll take your pictures first, okay?” You say, your phone already in hand as you gesture to him to stand in front of the lake, “Luckily, the sun is out, so maybe we will get some nice photos to post,” you add on. Meanwhile, Hyunjin, very stiffly, stood ahead of you, unsure what to do with his body and how to pose. Normally, he is good at this kind of stuff, he has done plenty of photoshoots in the past, but he was terrified at the thought of embarrassing himself in front of you. Before, he had never once had this concern, this worry, he didn’t know why these thoughts kept forming each time he thought of you. It clouded his mind, preventing him from seeing any logic or reason. “Alright, model boy, do your thing, I know you know how to work the camera,” you call out, snapping Hyunjin out of his trance. 

If he wasn’t sweating before, he most definitely was now as he body overheated under the sudden pressure he put onto himself as he robotically posed, and you, as always, couldn’t help but notice the lack of elegance he usually carried himself with. “Oh, c’mon, what’s up with you today?” 

“I… I don’t know, I’m just nervous… I think?”

“Well, I can see that,” you sigh, placing a hand on your hip, “But, you got no reason to be! It’s just me!”

“I think it being you is the issue,” he murmurs out, not really meaning for the words to slip out his mouth.

You press your lips into a straight line, “Right, I get that. Sooo, how about you pretend it’s not me taking the pictures, but Changbin?”

Hyunjin breathes out a sarcastic laugh, “Oh, yea, that will totally work, you make a very convincing Changbin.”

“Oh, right, let me just-” you roll up the sleeves of your shirt, exposing your biceps as you make a poor attempt to flex them, “How about now, is this working?”

Hyunjin found himself laughing loudly at your very sudden and unexpected antics, his stomach flipping onto itself as a flurry of affection rushed over him. You looked absolutely ridiculous, yet something about it was incredibly endearing despite the goofiness that radiated off of you. However, the sound of the camera shuttering from your phone quickly made him pause his laughter. “Hm, I think you look pretty cute in this,” you smile, turning the screen towards him to see you had captured a photo of him in the midst of his giddiness. He felt his cheek flush at your words, the shyness that had temporarily disappeared made its presence known. “I guess it’s not bad, just… a little different from what I usually post online.”

“Good different, right?” You ask, a smile still gracing features as the sun kisses your features, the wind gently brushing through your hair. 

“Definitely a good different.”

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taglist (closed): @kopikokrunch @icouldntcareless22 @kidrauhlschik @hhwangsmoon @lestayzone @cupidcures @sleepyxxhead @pinkpunkdynamite @kaiyaba @palindrome969 @aokiss @annybah @tigerroarsinthelight @bubbly-moon @nattisbored @jin-from-the-block @hyuneyeon

[qveerthe0ry]

The D-Files

Summary: Something weird happens when Dieter tries to post his X-Files fanfiction Word Count: 14,941 Pairing: Dieter Bravo x Fox Mulder x Dana Scully Rating: 18+ mdni Warnings: threesome, oral (m & f receiving), vaginal fingering, unprotected PIV, rimming, d/s undertones, poor explanation of time travel and quantum physics, it's a little cracky tbh Beta: the one and only @for-a-longlongtime obviously A/N: listen. I have ten episodes left of the whole series so if something is totally off and not accurate to x files canon just ignore me :) Also I'm absolutely aware of how completely ridiculous this fic is but I heard the voice of Dieter Bravo speak to me and could not ignore it Ao3 link

Curled up under at least three blankets, in just his underwear, stoned out of his mind (just weed— he’s California sober now) Dieter watches Mulder and Scully shake hands for the first time. 

The first time for them. 

He’s had to have seen this episode at least a thousand times by now. 

He’s in one of those funks again. His therapist calls it a depressive episode, but that’s so dramatic. He’s just a little bit down in the dumps thinking about how worthless he is and how no one’s ever really loved him before, not even his own parents, and how he hates himself so much he’s not sure if he would ever get rid of the guilt of letting someone else love him because he knows he’d just be a waste of their time.

It’s no big deal. Nothing an X-Files rewatch, weed, and a footlong Subway sandwich can’t fix.

Except this time, the way Scully and Mulder instantly mesh so well kind of makes him feel like he smoked too much pot. His stomach’s a little queasy as he watches him give her his undivided attention, and fuck, maybe this is a job above these FBI agents’ pay grade. 

He eyes that stupid notebook on his nightstand, still wrapped in plastic from the Amazon order. 

His therapist told him to start writing his thoughts down in a journal. He doesn’t like writing. It’s not what he does. He can’t stand those actors who think just because they’ve starred in a few movies means they should start writing them, or scrawling down some convoluted, conceited novel. Just fucking act, y’know? 

But as Scully throws herself into Mulder’s arms after knowing him for only a few days, and they both look so comfortable, Dieter rips open the packaging and swallows down the bile threatening his esophagus.

—

I don’t even know what I’m supposed to be doing here. What should I even write down in this thing? How lonely I am? Get in line, right? I’m not the only one. Even though sometimes it feels like I am.

Maybe it feels so bad because I know I did this to myself. Everyone always told me I’d always be a piece of shit. Even when I was young. And I just let their narrative take over and now here I am. The biggest piece of shit. 

It’s like Mulder. Everyone always called him Spooky and said he was too ‘out there’ and he ended up in the basement chasing Bigfoot. 

Except I don’t have a hot redhead in my life to balance me out or slowly fall in love with me.

And I’m not a tall, boyishly handsome, charming FBI agent. 

I’m just a washed-up actor, and a slob, and a drug addict. That’s probably why.

Golly gee, doc, this sure made me feel better.

—

He writes in his journal a bit here and there. He also slowly rots away in his bed, takes far too little showers and far too many THC gummies. He talks to his therapist two weeks later and tells her he’s been writing down his thoughts and her impressed hum and “That’s very good, Dieter” has him riding a high the rest of the afternoon. 

So he keeps it up. 

He doesn’t leave the house much, and when he does, he just wants to get back into his permanently affixed blanket fort to watch more X-Files and get high. 

He writes a little about his day, about what he’s mulling over in his mind. But as he reaches the end of season two, he’s out of his funk enough to start feeling horny again. 

Who wouldn’t, watching the world’s hottest FBI agents on a near constant loop?

So who can blame him when his journal thoughts get a little spicy?

—

God, Mulder’s such an idiot sometimes. So is Scully. They waste so much time getting on each others’ nerves. This entire show is just years-long foreplay. I swear they get off on irritating each other.

I irritate so many people, why aren’t any of them ever turned on about it? 

They should have just let them kiss in the first season. There could have been so much sex. All the motel rooms these two wasted! On the government’s dime, too! 

Rental car sex, alleyway sex, OFFICE sex. The Sex Files. That’s what this show should have been. 

I wonder if Mulder’s better at eating ass or pussy. I just know he’s freaky with all the porn and phone sex hotlines. And the auto erotic asphyxiation thing, can’t forget about that. I’d choke the shit out of him if he wanted that. With my hand or my cock, his choice. 

I wonder if Scully is freaky, too? I think she’d deny it, but it wouldn’t surprise me if she was filthy kinky. She always has to be in control. I wonder if she’d be like that in bed, too? I wonder if she’d get off on torturing me and making me beg. Or maybe she’s always so in control that she wants to relinquish all of it when she’s in bed.

—

Dieter remembers that fanfiction exists shortly after that. 

His dick is raw and he hasn’t even made it through half of the explicit entries on archive of our own. But everything’s so… Vanilla. 

Don’t get him wrong, he’s a total sucker for tender, missionary love-making. But where’s the experimentation? Where’s the creativity? And why the hell does everyone think Fox Mulder is such a dom?

Just look at him.

He’s pathetic. Scully could have him begging on his knees with nothing but the snap of her finger and one of her sexy, stern glances. Maybe he’s projecting a little bit, but not much.

He gripes to his therapist about this while he avoids the topic of his greatest fear being dying without ever having a meaningful relationship in his whole life.

“Have you ever thought about writing your own fanfiction?”

And no, he truly never has. It seems like something so far away from appropriate given his profession. But then again, when has he ever been totally professional?

So he starts writing. At first he finds himself falling into the popular tropes— love confessions and sweet, romantic first times. Just little blurbs in his journal he ends up scrawling out with his pen. There’s enough of that already. He needs to explore the fun stuff with these two.

One night/early morning, he finally grabs his laptop from his rarely-used office. He snuggles up under all the blankets he can find, turns on The X-Files, and gets down to business. 

—

“I’m sorry Scully—”

“Don’t.”

Her icy blue stare pins Mulder in place. His pouty lips close and his sharp jaw clenches as he looks down at his feet.

“You almost got us killed!”

“I wouldn’t have let you get hurt, you know that.”

Scully doesn’t know what comes over her, but she crosses what little distance is between them to grab the back of Mulder’s hair and tug.

His jaw drops and as hard as he tries, he can’t stifle the whimper that slips from his lip. 

“You were reckless with your own life. You can’t— Do you know what I would do if anything ever happened to you?”

Scully’s sharp gaze softens. Tears prickle at Mulder’s eyes, partly from Scully’s death grip and partly because of the way her voice wavers. 

“Scully—”

“Get on your knees.”

——

Dieter fights the heavy, sharp arousal in his gut as he writes Mulder on his knees for Scully. He just knows he’d eat pussy like a champ, what with those sunflower seeds he’s always got between those pillowy lips. He’d be great at sucking cock, too. Dieter thinks they would look so fucking pretty around his own dick.

Or Scully’s strap. 

Perfect.

He stays awake for way too long, writing about Scully trapping Mulder between her thighs for hours, and then making him choke or her strap, and then making him beg and whimper and cry for it as she teases his prostate with her fingers. 

Scully’s so dainty, but the idea of her fucking into her big, tall partner with fury has Dieter leaking into his boxers as he types away. It takes all of Dieter’s willpower to write the sweet aftercare scene. Scully gently cleans up his cum and sweat and tears, telling him what a good boy he was as she pets his hair and kisses his face. 

As soon as Dieter writes the last words, he’s fumbling for his lube and dildo in the bedside drawer. He’s too worked up to prepare properly, and it burns, and he hears Scully’s disappointed tuts in his head as he fucks himself into a mess. 

He whines her name, and Mulder’s name, as filthy images of the two fill his head. 

He comes without even touching his dick. He makes an absolute mess of his sheets and just grinds into the puddle beneath him as he fucks himself through the aftershocks. 

And if he cries a little bit at the thought of two beautiful FBI agents telling him how good he was as they stroke his sweaty skin, that’s between him and his open laptop. 

—

“Do you think I should post my fanfiction?”

His therapist’s perfectly shaped eyebrows perk up. 

“Do you think you should post it?”

“I dunno. Probably not.”

“Why not?”

“Wouldn’t it be a little weird? An actor writing fanfiction about characters his peers portrayed?”

His therapist hums. He knows that’s his cue to keep talking, but they just sit in silence for a bit. 

“Do you want to post it?” She asks. 

He huffs. 

“I don’t know. What if everyone hates it?”

She shrugs and nods at him to continue.

“I’m afraid no one’s gonna read it. Or if they do, they’ll hate it. And leave mean comments.”

“Would that bother you?”

“Well yeah, duh.”

She hums again. Dieter rolls his eyes, half at her but half at himself. 

“I know, I know,” he sighs, “I’m a walking contradiction. I crave praise but I’m too afraid to put myself out there to receive any.”

“That’s not necessarily true. You’re an actor. It’s your job to put yourself out there and be consumed and reviewed.”

“Yeah but that’s not me, it’s just the guy they tell me to play.”

His therapist smiles. 

Shit. 

“I think you know what you need to do, Dieter.”

He does leave that therapy session crying, thirty minutes later. If he had a tail, it would be between his legs. 

It takes him six days to work up enough courage to even make an account. And then another two days to pour over every single word he wrote, change it, change it back, wash rinse and repeat. 

When he finally works up the nerve to post it, his laptop dies just as he’s about to press the publish button. 

You gotta be kidding me, he thinks, maybe this is a sign.

But then he thinks about what his therapist would say, that things that are worth it rarely come easy, and that he should probably stop assuming everything is a sign, and so he plugs his laptop in and waits for it to charge enough to come back to life. 

It’s the longest four minutes of his life. 

He stares at the black screen in silence. He blinks at his reflection as he listens to the storm brewing outside his window, only flinching slightly as lightning illuminates his dark room. 

His heart leaps up into his throat when the screen lights up again. Everything’s right where he left it. All he has to do is press that little button. 

He takes one, two, three deep breaths with his finger on the trigger and then—

CRACK

—

Everything hurts. Like, bad.

Dieter groans and tries to blink his eyes open. It’s bright. He’s no stranger to waking up in an unfamiliar place with a terrible headache and no recollection of how or why he’s there. However, he hasn’t touched a party drug in a year and a half, and hasn’t even been to a party for even longer than that. 

He finally blinks away the sleep in his eyes. He’s on the cold ground. The grass is plush and dewy under him. When he sits up, the world spins around him for a few moments and he just barely keeps his stomach from emptying. 

He checks his pockets. At least he has his phone on him. No wallet, though. And he’s in his pajamas, which is fine, not unusual attire for most of his outings. 

He goes to unlock his phone but of course it’s dead. 

Shit. 

He looks around a bit more and all this scenery does not look like Los Angeles. There are hills in the distance that are much more rolling than the jagged peaks in California. The smell of campfire fills the air and it’s humid, he realizes. Stiflingly so. 

He stands up. His joints ache even more than they usually do, stiff and popping. When he runs his hand through his hair he’s got wicked bed head. 

At least he can make out a dirt path amongst the grass and trees around him. He follows it for a while, and just as he thinks he might be wandering to his own death out in the boonies he sees a little shack in the clearing just by what seems to be a lake. 

It looks… Strangely familiar, despite the fact that he’s certain he’s never been here before. There’s a sign that reads “Bait & Tackle” that’s seen better days and a big giant inflatable… something tied down to the roof. 

He scratches his head as he stares. He has the feeling of something being on the tip of his tongue, but it’s on the tip of his brain instead. 

As he approaches, a high-pitched growl startles him out of his daze. His eyes frantically search for the source, and as he walks closer he spots it.

A tiny little yappy Pomeranian, tan and fluffy. 

It hits him all at once. 

He gasps and moves toward the fiesty little thing as his heart pounds. There’s no way…

It snarls and yaps at him as he crouches down to greet it— him. 

Once he starts giving the dog butt pats and head scratches, it warms up to him pretty quickly. He searches for the dog tag hiding under all that fur and gasps as he reads it.

QUEEQUEG

“Oh my god, Queequeg, I thought I’d never see you again, buddy.”

The pup wags his tail at the sound of his name and Dieter goes down on his knees to accept him into his lap. 

“How are you real? What’s happening?”

Tears well at Dieter’s eyes as he holds this fictional dog in his arms, who’s been dead since season 3. Sue him, he’s very confused and vulnerable and it was the most devastating death of the series by far.

As he pets the derpy little thing, he tries to wrap his head around everything that’s going on. Last he remembers, he was holding his breath and clicking the mouse pad and now he’s here, in the middle of nowhere Georgia if he remembers his X-Files trivia correctly. 

Which means this sweet little pup is going to die in this… episode? And if he’s in the episode, that means—

“Hey! What are you doing? That’s my dog!”

Dieter’s heart pounds, heavy and fast, like he’s done way too much coke. He looks up with wide eyes and it’s unmistakable, her bright red hair and sexy scowl and the lanky handsome man attached to her hip. 

“Scully?”

Dieter watches her face twist up in confusion, and watches Mulder’s eyebrows raise with a smirk on his face as he looks between him and his partner. 

“You know this guy, Scully?”

She squints at Dieter as they walk closer. He feels very warm under her gaze. He pets Queequeg’s head for comfort.

“No, I don’t. What’s your name?”

Dieter clears his throat. 

“You don’t recognize me?”

Mulder presses his lips together, trying to hide his amused smile as he nudges Scully’s side. 

“Should I?”

“Wait… what year is it?”

Scully’s face turns from annoyed to concerned. She kneels down in front of Dieter and looks into his eyes, and her gaze is too heavy, it spears right through him. 

“It’s 1995. Are you concussed?”

“No, I don’t think so. I mean— Maybe. Probably, to be honest. It’s 1995?”

“Has been for five months, now,” Mulder supplies. 

Dieter nods. 

“Do you know where you are?”

“I think so… listen. You guys aren’t gonna believe this— well, Mulder might believe it— But I’m from the future.”

Scully’s concerned gaze turns right back to annoyed very quickly, and she stands back up to cross her arms. 

Mulder just chuckles. 

“How do you know our names?” He asks.

Dieter feels a little weird on the ground while they’re staring down at him, in a horny way, so he gently places Queequeg back on the gravel to stand up himself.

“Would you believe it if I said I’m from an alternate reality where you guys are the main characters in a cult classic sci-fi television series?”

Mulder blinks at him. Dieter shrugs with a sheepish grin.

“Honestly? That’s more believable than the time travel.”

Dieter smirks. 

“That’s such a Scully thing to say.”

“That is such a Scully thing to say,” Mulder agrees. 

“Oh my god.”

“I can prove it! I swear. C’mon, let’s get this little guy safe and sound in your cabin and I’ll prove everything.”

Mulder shrugs, and gives Scully one of his looks, the c’mon, let’s see where this goes look that Dieter’s so used to seeing. 

She just scoffs.

“Mulder, we don’t have time for this. People are dying left and right, you’re on a wild sea-monster chase, and half the town is—”

“Wait, Scully, look at this guy. He’s going to tell you another body’s been found in the lake. Well— half of a body.”

They all turn to the man running up from the docks, and sure enough, it plays out almost exactly how Dieter remembers from the episode. Scully’s very focused on the legs floating in the lake, but Mulder keeps eyeing him in a way that makes him wish he was wearing something more than just flimsy pajama pants. 

“Scully…” Mulder mumbles as they walk back toward their car, “I think we should hear him out.”

“Hear him out!? We should be shoving him in handcuffs, he’s the only suspect we have that isn’t mythical.”

“I’d be into that, actually,” Dieter says, holding his hands out toward them, wrists pressed together. 

Scully grimaces and Mulder smirks but he drapes an arm around her shoulder in a way that seems suspiciously protective. 

“There’s not enough evidence to cuff him, but we can at least keep him close and see what else we can get out of him.” 

“Mulder—”

“If anything, he can just dogsit for us.”

The way they’re talking about him like he’s not even there makes the tips of his ears burn.

“I’d love to dogsit! I miss Queequeg.”

“What do you mean you miss him? He’s right here.”

Dieter winces. 

“Actually that’s a big plot point in this episode,” Dieter whispers.

They stop at the car and Scully glares at him, and Mulder looks a little bit like he’s just brought a stray dog home without her permission. Dieter kinda likes it.

“You never told us your name,” Scully grills.

“Dieter. Dieter Bravo.”

Mulder huffs. 

“What kind of name is Dieter Bravo? Do you do adult films?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, Fox?”

The way the giggle bubbles up out of Scully’s chest makes him preen. 

“Alright. Where do you live, Dieter?”

He winces and scratches the back of his neck.

“Los Angeles.”

“Oh brother,” Scully grumbles. 

“How did you get here then?”

“Y’know, it’s the weirdest thing. I was writing a fanfiction about the two of you and when I went to post it, I think lightning struck my house and sent me here.”

The two agents stare at him in silence for so long that Dieter has the time to question every single moment that has led up to this. He determines that this is all his therapist’s fault when Mulder finally clears his throat. 

“You can bunk with me until we get everything sorted out, alright?”

Dieter straightens up and salutes him.

“Yes, sir, Agent Mulder.”

Scully rolls her eyes and turns to open the car door for him, but Mulder smirks.

“I think I kinda like this guy, Scully.”

——

Mulder’s nice enough to let him shower and lend him spare clothes that aren’t caked in mud and grass stains, once they’re back at the cabin. He cleans up in silence trying to wrap his head around this entire pickle he’s in, and how to go about making them believe him.

He’s got his work cut out with Scully, he knows this. But he works over every bit of information he can remember from each season, each episode, to remember something that couldn’t be denied. 

They’re doing their Scully and Mulder thing when he comes out with damp hair and Mulder’s clothes on. (He definitely had to will away a half-chub at the thought of being wrapped in his things.) 

They sit around the small living room with photos and paperwork all sprawled out and Dieter feels like geeking out a little bit. This is like the world’s greatest and most interactive X-Files museum. 

“Okay. I’m going to try to do this in the best way I know how. Just— Bear with me.”

They sit back in their seats, and Dieter lifts Queequeg onto his lap to take his place on the couch. He waits for them to give him a go-ahead, but neither of them are responsive. He tries not to feel so aroused by their focused gazes. Maybe he should have jerked off in the shower, as a precaution.

“Okay then… let’s see… this is Season 3, Episode… 22? So. You guys just went through the whole Skinner thing, right? With his— his bad dreams lady killing that prostitute?”

“How do you know Skinner?”

“I told you, it’s a TV show. Skinner’s always busting your balls. Big tough assistant director business. He’s actually just a softy though, I think.”

Scully looks disinterested and a little annoyed, but Mulder’s starting to shift forward in his seat.

“What’s the show called?”

“The X-Files.”

Scully snorts. 

“How creative.”

“Okay, okay, I know. It sounds whacky. But I’ve seen the show a billion times over, I’ve been unknowingly preparing for this moment since the pilot aired.”

He takes a moment to determine what to say and how to word it before he continues.

“Okay… Well… Your first case together was that weird kid in Oregon that kept helping aliens abduct his classmates. Scully conveniently missed the UFO though. Ever the skeptic. Then… let’s see… Deep Throat turns up in the next episode. Scully, he ended up dying in your arms and his last words were trust no one.”

“Mulder, we’ve been bugged for 90 percent of the time we’ve known each other, this doesn’t mean anything.”

Dieter huffs and Mulder shrugs. 

“Keep going. Give us a deep cut, man. You gotta try harder than that.”

“When did you become the skeptic, Mulder?” 

The agent shrugs and raises his eyebrows to urge him to continue. 

“Okay… Scully, when you were at your god son’s birthday party, you told your friend that Mulder is a jerk.”

“Hey, what the hell, Scully?”

“No, I said he was just—”

“Obsessed with his work, yeah. After you called him a jerk though.”

Dieter hates to see the way Mulder’s eyebrows draw up in the middle. It’s kind of funny to see Scully so embarrassed, though. He figures he’ll keep what else she said to himself, about him being cute, because it looks like she’s praying that he doesn’t blab about it.

“You wound me, Scully.”

“Oh, yeah, and there’s the time you shot Mulder in the shoulder.”

“You’re kind of a bully, y’know?”

Scully shoves at his shoulder to prove their point, and Mulder just laughs and leans into it. 

“Do you want to know what happens in the future? Wait, if I affect the future will the show be different? I dunno how I feel about that… new X-Files episodes in 2024 would be incredible. But what if the new episodes suck, though?”

“2024? That’s what year you’re going with?” 

Dieter nods. 

“It kinda sucks. We have smartphones and streaming services and stuff but also, you wouldn’t believe who the last president was if I told you. Also there was a global pandemic. Still kinda is one, but everyone’s just ignoring it. Actually, come to think of it, you guys would thrive in 2024.”

“Do we die before then?”

“Oh, no, no, the show just finished. And then came back and then— it’s a whole thing. But neither of you die.”

“Hmm.”

Mulder hums, and Dieter knows exactly what he’s thinking. Scully too, by the faraway look on her face. Total idiots. Why couldn’t he have landed at least after the first kiss. Or even the almost-kiss?

“Well, I’m tired, and this case isn’t going to solve itself. And Queequeg needs to go potty, so, I think we’re done here.”

Dieter’s whole body feels hot, like the time he was stabbed in the chest with that epi-pen. He shoots up off the couch so fast that Queequeg yelps and hops down to cower behind Scully’s ankles.

“Wait! It’s an alligator. Literally. It’s just an ordinary alligator killing these people. And if you let Queequeg walk into the woods he’s going to get eaten and if there’s one single thing you believe me about it has to be this, okay? For Queequeg’s sake.”

Dieter’s got his hands clasped in front of him, pleading. Scully looks startled and Mulder looks awed, but he’s desperate to drive this point home. 

“…Okay. I’ll keep him close. Thank you.”

They think he’s crazy. Scully does, at least. Mulder’s just quiet, uncharacteristically so. 

“Thank you.”

“Alright,” she sighs, grabbing Queequeg’s leash and hooking him up, “goodnight guys.”

“Goodnight Scully.”

Dieter sighs and sits back down. 

“She thinks I’m insane, doesn’t she?” 

“Welcome to the club.”

Dieter chuckles and looks to Mulder. He’s still got that pensive look on his face. It suits him, all brooding with that fucking jawline and those plush lips and sad eyes. He wants to kiss him so bad. He almost says it out loud, so used to his horny musings while watching this guy on TV that his filter is a little out of whack. 

Dieter doesn’t even realize he’s staring until Mulder tilts his head at him, confused. He opens his mouth and takes a breath but the door ripping open cuts him off. 

“Mulder, there’s something in the woods; Dieter was right. I think we should check it out.”

Mulder jumps up at her beck and call and seeing it in person is even more overwhelming, how he follows her without question and trusts her, so eagerly. 

“Queequeg?”

“He’s here, can you watch him?”

Dieter nods.

“Me? Yeah, yes ma’am, Agent Scully.”

He doesn’t miss the amused look on her face just before the door slams shut behind them. 

He lies on the couch with Queequeg on his chest, enjoying the silence after the… everythingness of his day. He really wishes he could smoke some pot, but even if he could get his hands on some, he’s sure it would be weak as hell. And there’s the FBI agent thing. 

Dieter’s not sure how long he’s been staring at nothing and snuggling Queequeg when the cabin door finally opens again. 

“Did you catch the alligator?”

The eerie silence he’s met with makes him whip his head around. Scully and Mulder are staring at him. He’s pretty sure 80 percent of his X-Files fantasies have started exactly like this. 

“… We did. We caught it just in time to save Ted Bertram.”

“That’s the guy with the lake monster feet, right?”

They both nod slowly. 

Queequeg hops down from his perch on Dieter’s chest, so he sits up. 

“I told you. You guys believe me now?”

He watches as Mulder nods his head yes and Scully shakes her head no. All he can do is shrug and start wondering what’s next for him, in the year of 1995.

“Hey, do you guys need an assistant? I could tell you how to solve the next case! I think it’s the one with the mind control cable. Mulder, are you really red-green color blind? I think that was a major plot hole. How do you tell the difference between human blood and alien blood if one is red and one is green, then?”

“Mulder’s not colorblind,” Scully says. 

“Uhh… Actually, yeah. I am.”

“What? How did you pass the color vision test?”

“I’m colorblind, not an idiot. I can still tell them apart, they just look different to me than they would to you.”

“I— I can’t believe you’ve been colorblind this entire time.” 

Mulder shrugs. Then his brow quirks up.

“Why does that matter?”

“I’m not sure I should tell you. It might mess with the space-time continuum and— quantum physics, you know?”

Scully’s clearly had enough. She sighs and finally kicks off her shoes. 

“I’m grabbing a shower and clearing my head,” she says, “don’t— don’t let him out of your sight for now, Mulder.”

Mulder nods and half smiles at her. They both look pretty tired. He wants to remind them that he’s the one who traveled 29 years into the past today, but it seems like a pretty sore subject. 

They stand still and silent in the living room until Scully closes her bedroom door behind her, Queequeg in tow.

“You heard the woman. There’s a TV in my room.”

Mulder nods toward the other bedroom door and Dieter follows dutifully.

“Does it get the good channels?”

He hears Mulder chuckle and watches from behind as he sheds his jacket. He admires all those lean muscles in his back, now that he’s not wearing one of those god awful baggy suits. Maybe he should suggest a tailor, he thinks, and wonders if the later seasons would be filled with more eye candy if he did. 

“You know about that?”

“All the video tapes that aren’t yours? And the hotline lady that leaves messages on your answering machine? Yeah. You wouldn’t believe what porn is like in thirty years. You’re gonna love it.”

Dieter’s torn between looking away and staring shamelessly while Mulder unbuttons his fly. He settles for nonchalant, hoping his eyes don’t pop out of their sockets like a cartoon character when he notices the outline of Little Mulder. This is even better than the gray sweatpants in the Humbug episode. 

“I was hoping to kick the habit in thirty years’ time, actually.”

Dieter shrugs and his staring contest with Mulder’s crotch ends abruptly as he slides into a pair of pajama pants. Which is weird, because usually Mulder sleeps in his underwear. Must be the fact that he’s sharing a cabin with Scully.

Mulder throws Dieter the remote and settles onto the bed. There’s no couch in here, not even a cuck chair, so Dieter settles next to him. His whole body burns. God, if 20-year-old Dieter could see himself now, he’d ruin the pants he was wearing. 

The silence feels a little awkward, so he turns the TV on. Nineties TV is so simple. It’s easy to settle on a channel playing Invasion of the Body Snatchers and sink into the mattress under him. 

It only takes a few moments before he realizes Mulder’s staring holes into the side of his face. 

“What’s up?” Dieter asks. 

There’s so little room between them it’s making Dieter’s entire body throb along with his pulse. 

“You’re telling the truth.”

Dieter nods and tries to give him a reassuring smile. Mulder sighs and throws his head back onto the pillow. His eyes close and his brows furrow and his jaw does that sexy clenching thing again. It’s all Dieter can do to not bite at it and soothe the sting with his tongue. 

“What happens to us?”

Dieter clears his throat.

“I mean— I know, you shouldn’t affect the future, yadda yadda. I just…”

Fuck it, Dieter thinks, if I’ve already solved the case way before the episode is supposed to end, I’ve thrown everything off anyway.

“You end up together.”

Mulder lets out a big, long breath. His face instantly relaxes. His hands flex by his sides and Dieter goes out on a big giant limb and grabs one of them.

Mulder starts at the touch, but lets it happen. 

“When?”

“Way later than you should have shacked up, in my opinion.”

He grumbles. 

“My opinion, too.”

“You should make a move, then. I’m pretty sure at this point she’s only waiting for you to make a move.”

“And how do you know that?”

“Oh, it’s a whole thing involving a shapeshifting guy with a tail. Trust me. She’s got it just as bad.”

They’re still holding hands. Mulder hasn’t moved a muscle. An idea so bright pops into Dieter’s head that he’s certain there’s a lightbulb floating above him. 

“You know when you met Bambi on that cockroach case?”

Mulder nods. 

“She was so jealous. Didn’t you pick up on that?”

“I— I thought so. But I also thought she was just annoyed with me, y’know, how she usually is.”

Dieter squeezes his hand. 

“She was annoyed because she’s into you, dude. It was envy. Very, very clearly.”

He hums. 

“So? What now? Do I apologize for something that happened months ago? You apparently know Scully as well as I do, how do you think that’ll blow over? ‘Hey, sorry I made you jealous because you have a big fat crush on me.’ She’d deck me.”

Dieter shakes his head. 

“No, man. You need to make her jealous. So jealous she can’t deny why she’s upset with you.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, and I mean, why not just start right now, y’know? Get a head start on the whole thing. I mean, you’re here, I’m here, there’s only one bed…”

“If I didn’t know any better I’d think you were coming onto me.”

“I would love to come on you, actually.”

Mulder laughs, and Dieter deflates a little at the sound. But when he goes to pull his hand away, Mulder cinches it in his own. 

“Dieter…”

“Mulder.”

“We’re doing this, then?”

Dieter nods like an overexcited puppy wagging its tail. Oh my god. Oh my god. Fox Mulder in his prime, how fucking lucky can one guy be?

Mulder glances at the door to make sure it’s open. The faint sound of running water can be heard from Scully’s room, and he thinks he smells her shampoo wafting out with the steam. 

Like two nervous teenagers, they shift to face one another. Dieter brings their joined hands together on his own hip. Mulder’s palm is warm on his skin where his shirt rides high, and it makes Dieter’s breath hitch. 

Slowly, Dieter urges him to keep his hand still with a squeeze before mirroring Mulder’s, creeping his hand under his shirt and feeling his solid, trim waist.

Mulder hums into his touch and Dieter realizes this man is possibly just as touch-starved as he is. He starts swirling circles into his skin with his thumb and inches forward, but those beautiful hazel eyes hold apprehension in their timid gaze.

“What if this blows up in my face?” Mulder whispers.

“It won’t. I guarantee it. I’ll make sure of it. Trust me?”

A soft grin tugs at Mulder’s lips and he nods, and it’s all the permission Dieter needs.

Christ, his lips are soft. Soft and plush and exactly how Dieter imagined only a million times better. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt this good, not on any drug, and they’re just kissing. 

It’s chaste until he feels Mulder’s tongue prod at the seam of his lips and then it’s filthy. As soon as Dieter opens his mouth to him, Mulder takes it with a grunt. His blunt nails dig into the soft flesh at Dieter’s hip as he traces the arch of his bottom teeth. Dieter tries to keep up, but his brain constantly shorts out at the thought of who’s tongue is poking and prodding around in his mouth. 

He’s a great fucking kisser. His tongue tickles the roof of Dieter’s mouth and it makes him shiver, makes his cock swell against his borrowed sweatpants, against Mulder. 

He doesn’t seem deterred. Quite the opposite actually. He tugs Dieter by the hip and presses his own solid prick right up against Dieter’s, and they both groan into the sloppy kiss. 

“It’s been quite a while,” Mulder says. 

Dieter can’t tell if the huffed little laugh is directed toward the eager way he chases Mulder’s lips, or toward himself for being out of practice. He likes the thought of either. 

“For me, too,” Dieter mumbles. 

Mulder hums and rolls his hips. As their dicks press together and twitch, Dieter decides they are not naked enough by any means. 

He presses his hand up, up, bringing Mulder’s shirt with it and grabbing a handful of his sturdy pec, admiring how stiff it feels under his palm when his lungs inflate. He gets with the program, and Dieter pulls his own shirt over his head, then promptly salivates over all the lean muscles and wiry hair and pale skin in front of him. 

“Fuck,” he breathes.

It’s not until Mulder’s breath hitches does he realize he might actually be into this, not just their plan, but being here in bed with Dieter. His pretty hazel eyes are dark now, pupils blown out, and his chest is heaving, and the tent in his pajama pants is far too enticing to resist. 

Dieter reaches down to cup him through the flannel material and Mulder gasps and falls flat onto his back. His eyes close and his jaw hangs open like an invitation. Dieter wiggles and shifts to press up against the length of his side and to finally press his face into the crook of his neck. 

The hint of aftershave that’s been teasing him all day is now overwhelming his senses, sharp and spicy. Dieter is delighted to know that his skin tastes just as delicious as it smells, salty and heady under his tongue. Mulder’s prick throbs in his grasp and Dieter’s torn between wanting to tease him over his pants and feel the hot skin of his cock in his palm. 

“Feels good,” Mulder whispers. 

“Yeah?”

“Mmm.”

Dieter nips at his racing pulse first, then down to his jaw and the impressive five o’clock shadow he’s always been jealous and in awe of. The prickly hairs there tickle his tongue and lips, and he grinds into the outside of Mulder’s thigh for a bit of relief. 

“You think about Scully doing this?” 

The way Mulder’s dick jolts in his grasp is answer enough, but he speaks up anyway. 

“Yes.”

The admission is so hot it makes Dieter’s brain spin. He himself has thought of it many times before, Scully torturing him with teasing touches, her little sharp canines digging into his flesh, but the thought of Mulder thinking of it too… 

All those heated glances Dieter’s mulled over, he wonders how many of those were fueled by Mulder’s dirty thoughts about her. Wonders how many times he’s seen a flash of something in Mulder’s gaze and it’s been him fantasizing about getting Scully in bed. 

Dieter huffs against the heated skin of Mulder’s neck before he pulls back. His head his thrown back, eyes squeezed shut, and he’s fucking gorgeous. He lightens his touch, teases the underside of his cock with one fingertip, and delights in the pleasure scrawled across Mulder’s face. 

“How often?”

Mulder’s gravelly chuckle is cut off by a low groan when Dieter presses against his sac over his pajamas. 

“All the time,” he confesses, “every time.”

“In the office?”

Mulder whimpers and nods his head. 

“On the job, in the field?”

“God yes.”

Dieter hums, squeezes his balls to goad him into continuing.

“When she— when she’s so serious, it’s hot. She’s so smart, it turns me on.”

Dieter smirks. He completely sympathizes.

“You like it when she debunks you?”

Mulder whines and nods his head again. Dieter tries his hardest not to react to the sound of the water shutting off across the cabin, or Scully’s door creaking open. Instead, he shoves his hand down Mulder’s pants and hopes to god he keeps his eyes closed, hopes Scully’s ever present need to call out his name is tampered down when she inevitably hears him talking. 

Mulder gasps and raises his hips into the circle of Dieter’s hand, and his brows furrow as he shuts his eyes even tighter.

“Why?”

Mulder moans. 

“Because she— she balances me out. Makes me feel even. Whole.”

Dieter chuckles. 

“Aww, does she complete you, Foxy?” 

He scoffs but bites his lip when Dieter thumbs at his head and spreads his slick, sticky pre-cum all around. 

“Tell me what you think about, Mulder.”

His breathing is so ragged that Dieter thinks he should maybe be concerned. But he can tell things are about to come to a head, can hear Scully’s little footsteps inching closer to their room, pointedly quiet. 

“Her, I think about her body against mine. And touching her.”

As if on cue, fiery red hair peeks through the door frame. Dieter’s got his free hand up and a finger at his lips before Scully’s face can even twist up in concern and shock. He gives her a pleading look as she stands stock-still and wide-eyed. 

“Where would you touch Scully, if she was here?”

“Everywhere. Anywhere she wants me to. I just wanna make her feel good.”

Dieter turns his head back to Mulder to confirm that his eyes are still closed. They are, positively scrunched shut as sweat threatens to penetrate his brows and slip into his eyes.

“Do you wanna taste her?” 

Mulder’s breath hitches and his cock pulses and dribbles more against Dieter’s hand. 

“Yes, yes, so bad. I think about it every time I— every time I touch myself.”

Dieter turns back to Scully. Her hair is damp and her silky pajama top is unbuttoned more than it was just a moment ago. It just barely hides her heaving chest and he has a hard time not giving her away when he realizes his plan is working. Her lips are parted and wet, like she’s licked them, and god he really fucking hopes they don’t kick him out once this all comes to a head. 

“You do?” 

“Mm-hmm,” Mulder nods, “I could spend the rest of my life down there and die happy.”

Dieter chuckles then, and Mulder does too, but he opens his eyes. It takes him just a second to blink and adjust but, ever the vigilant one, his eyes jolt toward the now closed bedroom door and Scully standing in front of it. His body goes stiff and still, aside from his prick, which twitches wildly in Dieter’s grasp. 

Mulder’s voice cracks amusingly around Scully’s name. She crosses her arms and lifts one of her perfectly shaped eyebrows as she shuffles to the foot of the bed. 

“Boys.”

Dieter smiles sheepishly at her. Mulder’s staring and gaping like a fish out of water, all tense now, one elbow on the bed so he can prop himself up. Dieter doesn’t miss the way Scully’s eyes trace over his naked torso or the activity going on at the front of Mulder’s pajamas. 

“Is it true, Mulder?”

He’s nodding his head before she can even finish the question. 

“Yeah, Scully. I—” 

He cuts himself off when Dieter squeezes and strokes him, and Scully’s gaze is locked on the movement.

“It certainly feels like the truth,” Dieter supplies. 

Mulder whimpers under him and Dieter swears he sees Scully’s ears perk up at the sound, like some kind of predator. 

“Mulder, c’mere.”

God, the way he follows so readily, like he always does, it warms Dieter’s heart just as much as it makes his dick throb. He kneels on the edge of the bed right in front of her. His cock is protruding obscenely out in front of him, but Scully doesn’t seem to care about that. 

No, she’s focused on his face instead where it’s settled gently between her dainty hands. God, the way they look at each other is so fucking intoxicating. Dieter’s bound by it, physically stuck on the mattress as he watches. 

Her brows furrow slightly as she looks at him, but Mulder’s face is slack, almost dazed as he meets her eyes. 

“What did he tell you, Mulder?” 

Mulder shifts awkwardly from knee to knee. His mouth opens and closes a few times, and she giggles under her breath. 

“You’re not in trouble.”

Dieter laughs, and god, it’s so fucking weird. It’s like he’s watching a director’s cut. 

Mulder sighs, though. 

“We end up together, Scully. You and me. And I— I believe it. I believed it long before this guy showed up, and it… Out of everything I believe, everything I’ve been working toward… it might be the only belief I have that keeps me going.”

Scully’s gaze grows soft as his confession, and Dieter refrains from squealing in delight at how sweet Mulder sounds and how Mulder it all is.

“Why now, then?”

Mulder huffs and tries to turn away, but she keeps his face tight in her grasp. His cheeks are so pink. 

“Just worked up the guts, I guess.”

Dieter doesn’t miss the quick flicker of Scully’s eyes down to his lips. His fingers twitch with the urge to smash their faces together. 

She sighs and brushes some errant strands of hair from Mulder’s forehead. 

“Well,” she says, and her voice wavers with a heavy breath, “I’m glad one of us did.”

Mulder visibly melts. His shoulders slump and he leans forward into her touch. His face loses all of that tension from earlier, and his lips look loose when Scully’s own finally brushes against them. 

He’s so gentle with her, in a way he definitely wasn’t with Dieter. His hands are nearly hovering over her with how lightly he places them on her waist. His lips stay slack and still as he lets her control the kiss. The only thing giving him away is the comical bobbing of his prick disrupting the front of his pajamas, and there’s no way Dieter can blame him for that. 

One of Scully’s hands tangles in Mulder’s hair and produces a beautiful, high pitched sound that Dieter and Scully both react to. 

She pulls away. Mulder chases her lips, but her grip on his hair tightens. He curses under his breath with a face more flushed than Dieter’s ever seen on him.

Her eyes flicker over to Dieter and he feels like a deer in headlights. Why is he still here? Is this weird, is he being a creep for staying? 

“C’mere,” she mumbles, tipping her head to urge him to kneel right beside Mulder on the bed. 

He does, of course he does. He wants to be good for her, for them.

He kneels, shoulder to shoulder with the man panting beside him. He grasps his hands behind his back and waits patiently as she looks the both of them over. 

“What did I walk in on, Dieter?”

The way his name sounds coming from her low, rasping voice makes his spine tingle. 

“It was my idea, Agent Scully. I was trying to make you jealous. I’m sorry.”

She clicks her tongue and the noise makes his cock throb. 

“And you went along with this plan?”

She looks back to Mulder and Dieter shivers. He instantly misses the warmth of her gaze. 

“I— yeah. I did... It worked, didn’t it?”

Scully’s eyes narrow, and Dieter can’t tell if Mulder’s an idiot or a genius for riling her up. He should have known Fox Mulder would be a brat. He thinks if he plays his cards right, maybe Scully will forget the whole plot and he can be her good boy while Mulder gets punished for his smart mouth. 

A whimper falling from Mulder’s parted lips knocks him out of his daze and he notices Scully’s grip all tight in his floppy hair. 

Fuck, he wishes that were him. Maybe he should mouth off too, maybe then he’ll get the attention that he craves. 

“Get on your knees, Mulder.”

“I am on my knees.”

Dieter gasps as Scully tugs on his hair and leaves him no choice but to scramble off of the edge of the bed, lest she rip all that perfectly coiffed hair out of his head. His shoulders rise and fall with baited breath when he’s finally sunken his knees on the gaudy rug on the hardwood floors. Dieter whimpers and no one’s even touching him. 

“You too, time bandit.”

Dieter gets whiplash with how quickly he gets on his knees for her. He breathes out a labored ‘yes ma’am’ and Mulder throws him a look of disbelief. He shrugs, what can I say?

They’re both rock hard for her, on the floor, staring up at her. She looks like an angel, or the devil, or maybe like God herself. Her breathing is suspiciously calm compared to their own, even though her nipples create tantalizing nubs at the front of her silk pajamas. 

“Keep your eyes forward, both of you.”

Dieter nods at her commanding voice. He wants to look to Mulder for— direction? Comfort? Some kind of trauma bonding? But he doesn’t. He wants to be good. 

He hears Scully behind them, bed creaking under her weight, sheets ruffling underneath her. There’s a pregnant pause where all of their heavy breathing can be heard and the anticipation is so much Dieter might explode on the spot. 

“Strip.”

Twin breaths release from both Dieter and Mulder and he swears he hears her giggle behind them. He’s quick to comply, tugging at the drawstring of Mulder’s sweats he’s borrowed and awkwardly shuffling them off while he tries to stay kneeling. 

He notices Mulder still motionless beside him. 

“Scully…”

Idiot, Dieter thinks. 

“Good boy, Dieter, doing exactly what I say.”

He can’t help the satisfied smirk that twists his lips up, or the way the back of his neck burns at the praise. In his peripheral, Mulder hastily shucks his pajama pants. 

He has a pretty cock. Dieter knew he would. Everything else about him is pretty. It’s long and lean, just like he is, and the upward curve of it makes him jealous. It’s going to feel so good for Scully, if she lets him fuck her. 

There’s more shuffling behind them, and he flinches when a pair of satin pajama pants land on the floor in front of both of them. He has to dig his nails into his thighs to resist the urge to turn around. Something nudges his arm. He doesn’t dare move his head, but from the corner of his eye he sees a pale, smooth leg and his breath catches in his chest. 

He hears Mulder curse under his breath and can nearly feel the tension in him vibrating out energy into this rickety old cabin. Dieter feels a gentle hand in the short curls at the back of his neck just a moment later, her nails scraping his scalp just right, and his leg may just start shaking like a dog’s.

“You want to taste me, Mulder?”

“Fuck yes, Scully, please.”

She hums. Her hand in Dieter’s hair stills. 

“Go on, then.”

A lightning flash of movement stirs beside him, but Dieter keeps dutifully still. He’s twitching in anticipation but he doesn’t dare turn to look. 

Scully sighs, all breathy and high-pitched, and Dieter’s never heard a more beautiful sound. Then Mulder whimpers, and it’s muffled by Scully’s thighs, and there’s a wet smacking noise and Dieter thinks this obscene music could be a platinum album. 

Scully gasps, and Mulder groans, and Dieter aches. He can smell her, a sharp and tangy scent of arousal underneath the flowery soap and shampoo. Her hand is still in his hair and it hasn’t moved since Mulder got down to business and he feels forgotten about but in the best way.

“Dieter, honey, you can watch.”

He breathes out with relief and shifts to get a good look of the action. She’s perfect, gorgeous, breathtaking. Her silky pajama top hangs open on her pointy shoulders and her perky breasts rise and fall with her breathing. Her nipples are a brownish pink that stand erect in a way that makes his mouth water like a leaky faucet.

Her toned, porcelain legs spread wide enough to accommodate Mulder’s shoulders. The man is greedy, and Dieter can’t see a thing aside from the triangle of copper curls on her mound. He wants to nuzzle them so bad, he wants to feel them tickle his nose, smell the arousal that catches there. 

“You taste so good.”

Mulder’s words are squished against her center. Dieter whimpers at the thought of her flavor. Her hand soothes through his hair. He wants to touch his cock so badly, but Scully hasn’t told him that he’s allowed. Instead, he balls his hands into fists and bites his lip. 

Scully moans, and Dieter watches her face fall slack with pleasure. 

“Feels good, just like that.”

Dieter can’t help the sounds that eke out of him, desperate and a little pained. He’s so hard that he’s lightheaded, but Scully’s firm grip on his hair grounds him just enough. 

“Don’t be selfish, Mulder.”

He makes a questioning noise between her legs. He looks up at her with wide eyes, mouth open, tongue out and flat against her slit. 

“Give him a taste.”

“Oh fuck, please.”

Dieter can see the reluctance in Mulder’s motions, like he’s struggling to break free from her orbit. He looks so fucking hot, absolutely wrecked. His plush lips are red and shiny and his chin is dripping and his pupils completely usurp his irises. Drunk, drugged off of Scully.

He leans away from Dieter to make room between her legs but she tugs his hair. Then she tugs Dieter’s hair, and their noses are bumping together before either man can put two and two together. 

He can smell her on his breath. It’s so intoxicating that he loses any crumb of decorum he may have had left. He licks a broad swipe from Mulder’s chin to his Cupid’s bow and groans at all the slick he’s able to lap up. 

Mulder’s mouth opens up to him, and he chases the taste of her off of his tongue, his teeth, his gums, anywhere. They’re both panting into each other's mouths, exchanging breath. Dieter feels a big, strong hand on his jaw and neck, and the contrast to Scully’s smaller, gentler touch has him leaking all over the rug underneath him. He feels like he’s drowning, and he just wants to go even deeper, like even death won’t be enough. 

He waits for Scully to say anything about Mulder touching him. When she doesn’t, he takes it as permission to reach up and find purchase in his hair. His fingers tingle when they find Scully’s still there, and his whole body shudders and twitches when she links her fingers with his. 

“You want more?” 

It’s depraved, the way they both pull away from the kiss so fast. Dieter’s nodding and looking toward her, her glistening cunt, her smooth skin and her mischievous gaze. 

“Please, Scully,” Mulder mumbles. 

His head lolls back against Scully’s thigh so he can look up at her. He looks like he’s just run a marathon, the way sweat is beading at his forehead and his chest is heaving. 

“Yes, please, Agent Scully.”

She chuckles. The sound is torture and it’s bliss. She ruffles Dieter’s hair and he hums and leans into it. Mulder whimpers at the lack of attention, so she ruffles his too. 

And then she spreads her thighs even wider, like, gymnast levels of flexibility, and both of their eyes are drawn to the way her lips spread open in invitation, puffy red, her clit all swollen while she drips onto the old comforter under her.

“Think you can share?”

Dieter curses. Mulder whimpers against her thigh.

“Play nice, boys.”

Mulder looks at him with a heated gaze that makes him a little bit scared but really really horny.

“Yes ma’am,” Dieter says, but he’s staring at Mulder. 

Be good, he’s trying to tell him through telepathy, we’ll get rewarded if you’re just good.

Mulder glances up at her, bats his pretty little eyes, and licks his slick lips. 

“Yes ma’am.”

It sounds more teasing than anything, but Dieter doesn’t miss the way she squirms when Mulder says it. He just has that effect, doesn’t he? Such a charming little shit. 

He and Dieter look at each other, assessing, when Mulder finally goes low. It’s a little bit awkward, at first. Dieter’s jaw prods at Mulder’s sharp cheekbone as they find a good position. 

He traces around her clit with a pointed tongue, delicately, so eager to work her up. He can hear Mulder’s tongue fucking in and out of her, a wet cacophony of sounds that make his ears ring. So much so that he nearly doesn’t catch the sounds of Scully’s breath hitching, her soft little mewls as her hips cant up into their faces. 

He’s hyper focused on her pleasure, so lost in it that he doesn’t even recognize how turned on he is until a heavy, warm hand wraps around his cock and he nearly blows his load. His tongue presses broadly against Scully’s clit when he groans. She curses and her hand tightens in his hair and it’s so much. 

He reaches out for anything, really, but Mulder’s cock is there, hard and proud and twitching when he wraps his hand around him. He finds solace in the fact that he’s leaking just as much as Dieter is, sticky and slick all the way down the underside of his shaft. His noises get breathier, and his tongue seeks higher ground just as Dieter’s travels lower. They lap at her folds together, briefly, trapping them between their tongues, trading their tastes as she whines above them. Dieter doesn’t even realize his free hand has grasped Scully’s slender hip until she squirms against it. 

All of a sudden, Dieter feels her go stiff under his grasp. Her hand tightens in his hair just shy of enough to make him lose it. She lets out stuttered little sounds and Mulder hums below him. 

“You like that, Scully?”

“Oh my god, Mulder.”

He groans and shifts and she begs and Dieter’s aroused haze clears enough to make him realize that he’s eating her ass. 

He makes a pained sound himself and sucks Scully’s throbbing clit into his mouth. She shakes, and her stiff body loosens just enough for her to roll her hips into them. 

“Don’t— don’t stop, I’m so close. I’m gonna come.”

Neither of them would dream of stopping, not for anything. Dieter works his tongue in pulses against her clit as he suckles, and he feels Mulder slip a finger in between them just as she cries out, loud, and falls apart against their tongues. 

Dieter drinks up the way her clit jerks and pulses between his lips. He drinks up her gasps and breathy noises. He drinks up the way Mulder’s cock mirrors his own, twitching with pure arousal at the way she’s coming just for them.

They’re both humming satisfied sounds as they work her through it. Their hands on each other’s cocks have stilled completely, just a loose grasp as they coax every last bit of pleasure out of her until she’s lax and shying away from them. 

Dieter pulls away first. He watches with a sticky feeling in his chest at the way Mulder kisses her holes gently, and the skin around them, nuzzling between her thighs so tenderly. Both his hands free, now, Mulder soothes them up the outside of her thighs as they tremble in her aftershocks. 

Mulder’s babbling, Dieter realizes, once the ringing in his ears finally subsides. Just under his breath, a chant, over and over.

“So perfect, Scully, thank you, thank you, Jesus Christ, Scully…”

Dieter settles back on his heels to keep gazing at them. Scully’s hands both pet through his hair as he leaves wet kisses that make her pale thighs glisten in the dim cabin lighting. He’s panting harder than she is, and his prick dribbles and twitches, and he looks up at her through misty eyes. 

“Oh, Mulder,” she sighs.

She bends down at the same time he arches up and their lips meet in a kiss so blindingly passionate that Dieter debates whether or not he should look away. Only for a split second though. Because Scully moans into his mouth and licks herself out of it and Dieter grabs his throbbing dick at the base to chill himself out. 

Mulder’s fingers run through her damp hair so gently, but his jaw works and his mouth takes from her in stark contrast. They look so goddamn good together, it’s insane. He’s torn between holding off to see how this plays out, or coming all over himself in three strokes or less as he watches them together. 

“Come up here, Mulder.”

Her voice is intoxicating, it sounds so fucked out and blissful. She shuffles up the bed some and Mulder chases her, always touching at some point, until she’s lying back and he’s covering her body with his own. 

He dwarfs her. It’s cute, in the show, the way she’s always looking up at him with a craned neck. Now, it’s just filthy, how Mulder’s cock looks so fucking huge lying hard against her small frame. The way he has to scrunch himself up to kiss her so his prick doesn’t go anywhere it’s not supposed to, yet. The way her tiny feet rub up and down Mulder’s calves, only half their size. 

The way his hand eclipses her face when he cradles it and pulls away. How his thumb sweeps so easily from her lips to her cheekbone as he sighs. 

“Scully…”

She hums and closes her eyes and smiles, a sated and relieved grin that makes her look so serenely beautiful. 

“I know, Mulder,” she sighs, “me too.”

Dieter huffs. Chris Carter himself couldn’t have created a more Mulder and Scully-esque love confession. It’s precious. He might cry. 

Unfortunately, the sound makes them both look over. Scully’s all relaxed but Mulder’s hackles are all raised, like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t. Dieter slowly moves his hand away from his leaking cock and feels himself blush from his face down to his nipples. 

He’s caught in their crosshairs, stuck, eerily still and silent. Should he offer to leave? He really doesn’t want to leave. Maybe he can just peek through the keyhole of the door and leave them to it. 

“You too, Dieter,” Scully says, “get up here.”

Relief floods through him and makes his limbs all tingly. He’s nervous as he stands, gently making his way to the side of the bed and settling one knee on, then the other. Mulder shifts to the opposite side of Scully, their legs still tangled, as he watches Dieter with emotion he can’t quite put a name to. 

Dieter practically purrs when he slides right into their space. His cock drags a sticky design onto Scully’s smooth thigh and he apologizes, but she just chuckles and gently scratches her nails along his scalp. 

“Are you both going to be good for me?”

The tone of her voice makes them both shiver. Mulder huffs out a laugh but Dieter gasps as she tugs a little at his messy, sweaty curls. 

“Yes ma’am, Agent Scully.”

Dieter’s voice completely betrays him. He’s so turned on. There’s so much blood pumping to his cock that there’s a real and serious threat of him passing out. He hides his face in her shoulder and tries to even out his breathing and not hump her leg like an unruly dog. 

“I’ll be good for you, Scully.”

Mulder sounds a lot more in control. His deep, syrupy voice is just shy of even, only cracking on the second syllable of her name. Dieter feels the way she starts giggling before he hears it, her shoulders jostling with it. 

“You’re going to play by the rules, Mulder?”

He chuckles and it sounds dark, and Dieter opens his eyes to watch him smirk that irresistible smirk. 

“Hell, Scully, I’d write the rules over and over on the chalkboard to keep this going.”

She rolls her eyes at him, but she’s still grinning. His eyes flicker to her lips and there’s no hesitation this time when they kiss again. It’s tame and loose, until Scully wraps her dainty hand around his cock and he groans. Dieter matches his sound, and he just can’t help it, he rolls his hips into Scully’s thigh as he watches Mulder melt into a puddle against her. She bites at his plush bottom lip before she pulls back. 

“Fuck me, then.”

“Jesus,” they both say in unison. 

Scully bites her lip to keep in her giggles and it’s cute and debauched and insane. She’s insane. She’s going to kill them both, and Dieter’s going to return to his reality with 8 less seasons of The X-Files, and a season finale where Scully gets locked up for double homicide.

Mulder shuffles to straddle her. Dieter watches his heavy eyelids flutter and his jaw hang open and knows he likely looks the same. His cock twitches heavily where it hangs below him, and Scully teases the underside of it with her fingertips. He shivers, and so does Dieter, where he rocks his hips gently into Scully’s smooth skin. 

“You’re sure, Scully?” 

Dieter turns away and hides his heated face in the duvet. It’s too tender and raw and he doesn’t deserve to watch them love each other like this. 

“Positive, Mulder.”

He hears them kissing, wet, smacking sounds that give Dieter goosebumps. And then a whimper, a huff, muffled into Scully’s mouth and he drags his face away from its hiding spot. 

Mulder’s inching inside of her slowly, so slowly, with patience Dieter couldn’t even dream of. He cranes his neck to watch her take him, inch by inch. She looks so tight, and he bets she is, if the way Mulder’s eyes are squeezed shut is any indication.

Scully’s head tips back and breaks their kiss. Her eyes roll into the back of her head before she closes them. Her chest is heaving now with shallow breaths, her nipples taut and inviting.

“Oh my god,” she whispers. 

Mulder’s hips stay flush once he’s all the way in and he pants too. It looks like it takes all the strength he has to just flutter his eyes open and look down at her. His brows furrow and he licks his lips and gasps. 

“Scully,” he whines. 

She smirks, and christ, Dieter knows she’s clenching around him like a menace. Poor Mulder. He’s got the restraint of a god, he thinks, Dieter wouldn’t have made it even halfway inside of her. 

She soothes him by brushing the hair from his forehead, all damp with sweat. She does the same to Dieter and he hums as her fingertips massage his scalp. 

Mulder pulls out just as slowly as he entered her. She‘s soaked. He can hear it so well in the stilted silence of the room. When he pushes back in, she sighs and tightens her fist in Dieter’s hair and he needs something. He rocks against her again, and again, and the steady friction makes him gasp. 

Her hand slides down to the back of his neck and guides him to her breast. His cock throbs, deliciously trapped between his stomach and her silky skin. His tongue tests the waters, swirling around the pronounced peak of her nipple. When she sighs and arches into it, he takes it into his mouth and sucks. 

The noises she’s making are perfect. High pitched, breathy, needy. She’s letting herself go to Dieter and Mulder and it’s gorgeous. He presses his cock against her even harder and closes his eyes and whines around the bud in his mouth. 

Mulder’s starting to pick up the pace. Dieter can tell by the way her breast is jiggling just slightly under his mouth. And the sounds, god, the filthy slick sounds coming from her cunt. He’s leaking all over her just thinking about what it must feel like, how snugly Mulder must fit inside of her, how warm it is. 

As if Mulder could read his mind, he gasps out and his hips stutter against her. 

“It’s so good, Scully.”

Scully arches her back to grind down onto him and moans his name and tells him she needs more and Dieter bites down on her tender skin. 

She jolts and tugs his hair and curses and he looks up at her as he soothes it with his tongue. 

She’s the poster girl of pleasure. Her face is twisted with it, every beautiful feature dripping with tension. The length of her neck is so apparent with her head thrown back, and her skin is pink and looks hot to the touch. She begins to bounce when Mulder fucks her faster and harder. Dieter wants to do something, anything to make her feel good. 

He replaces his mouth with his hand, squeezing her flesh and teasing her nipple with his fingertips. He trails kisses up her chest, little love bites and suction until he reaches just below her ear. Her pulse is fluttering rapidly under his tongue, and she keens just as she turns her head and presses their lips together. 

They’re kissing. He’s kissing Scully. Oh god, her lips are so fucking soft against his. Her tongue ripples in his mouth and it tastes so good, minty with a hint of her arousal straight from Mulder’s lips. He whines and rolls his hips against her like he’s in heat, and he’s so close, and he wonders if she’d be mad if he came all over her warm, smooth, freshly showered skin. 

She jolts against him, against them, and bites down on Dieter’s lip with an almost pained noise. She turns away from Dieter and they both look to Mulder, who’s circling her puffy clit with his thumb as he fucks her. 

He’s looking to her for direction with a glazed expression. He looks like he’s hanging by a thread. 

“Here,” she whispers, and takes two of her fingers into her own mouth. 

Christ. The way her lips look wrapped around her two digits is sinful and debauched. Mulder must think the same, because he grabs her wrist and makes her stop. 

Dieter holds his breath as he waits for his next move. Is he going to pin her arms to the bed? Is he going to stretch them over her head and make her squirm on his cock, make her beg? 

It’s sweeter than that. Of course it is, with these two. Mulder brings her hand to his lips and kisses her palm, and then her knuckles. She sighs his name, and watches Mulder smile.

That soft, dopey smile gets an edge to it. 

“Let me, please,” he whispers. 

Dieter only gets the chance to be confused for half a second when he slips those two fingers into his own mouth. 

Scully gasps and moans and wiggles against him. Fuck, it’s beautiful. Mulder’s full lips take her all the way to the last knuckle and he hollows his cheeks as he sucks them. Scully’s hips squirm and rock and the way she moves against him is a sight. Mulder groans when Scully begins to thrust her fingers in and out, just a little, not enough to choke him but enough to make him close his eyes and sigh and start slowly fucking her again. 

They leave his mouth all wet and shiny. Mulder’s tongue tries to follow them and it makes Scully huff out a weak laugh. 

“You’re too good at that, Mulder.”

He hums, tries to hide his sheepish smile by ducking his head. But Scully grips his chin with her wet fingers to prevent it. His eyes struggle to focus on her, Dieter notices. He can’t blame him, it’s like staring into the sun. 

“Why don’t you show off to your little time traveler, huh?”

He opens his mouth, but no words come out. His eyes dart nervously from Scully to Dieter. 

“I— what?”

“Don’t be dense. Make him come. Make me come. You can multitask, can’t you?”

Dieter lies as still as the dead, afraid that if he moves maybe Mulder will snap out of this horny daze and tell him to get lost. He wouldn’t blame him one bit, either, but god he really wants to see this man’s lips wrapped around his cock. 

Scully chuckles at Mulder’s frozen stature. Or maybe she’s chuckling at the way Dieter’s heartbeat is pulsing through his dick against her thigh, dribbling all over it. 

“I bet you’re so good at it,” she continues to tease him, “with these pretty lips?” 

Mulder huffs and squirms when she rubs the pads of her wet fingers against his mouth. His tongue peeks out to taste them, coax them back inside him, but she doesn’t let him. 

“For me, Mulder?”

And Dieter can’t help but grin, because he’s never seen such a visceral loss of resolve so clearly before. Mulder closes his eyes and whines and nods his head. 

Scully makes a satisfied little noise, and her free hand sneaks down to squeeze Dieter’s slick cock, and he has to bite his own lip really hard to keep from losing it before the fun even begins. 

Then there’s some awkward repositioning and shuffling, mostly on his end. He kneels just above Scully’s head, and when he looks down she’s grinning like the Cheshire Cat from under his cock. He has to reach down to collect some of the pre-cum oozing out of him to keep it from dripping onto her gorgeous face, but she grabs his wrist and licks it from his fingers anyway. 

And then there’s Mulder, who’s slowly thrusting in and out of his partner like it’s second-nature, like auto-pilot, as he surveys the scene in front of him. 

“Mulder,” Scully mumbles. 

The deep, breathy, commanding tone of her voice makes Dieter shiver. 

“Yeah, Scully?”

“Make us come. Then you can.”

He groans, and his hips stutter then slam into her. Dieter’s torn between looking at the blissed-out look on Mulder’s face or the mischievous look in Scully’s eyes. 

“Are you— are you sure?” Dieter asks. 

Like an idiot, looking a gift horse in the mouth. But how can he not? They’re so perfect, so made for each other, and he’s just some weird fucking guy. 

But then Mulder’s expression turns into something darker, determined, and he nods with glassy eyes. 

“C’mon, McFly.”

And that’s all the encouragement Dieter needs, really. He widens his knees to line his cock up with those shiny, plush lips. Mulder gives Scully one last glance before he’s craning his neck forward and closing his eyes. 

Scully and Dieter gasp at precisely the same time, just as Mulder’s tongue swipes at his frenulum. Dieter’s eyes lose focus as he watches Mulder open his mouth wider, then looks past to see Scully’s icy blue gaze fixated on everything going on above her. It’s like an erotic kaleidoscope, the way they’re all blending together in pleasure. 

He suckles on Dieter’s head, a little too hard, but he thinks it might be on purpose. He hisses and grabs Mulder’s hair in one clammy, shaking hand. His tongue works the underside of his cock as he fits more into his mouth, and Scully was right, he is way too good at this. 

Scully curses under them, and only then does Dieter notice she’s touching herself as Mulder keeps pumping into her with a shaky, stilted rhythm. 

“So good, Mulder.”

His responding moan turns into a whimper as Dieter’s prick slides across the back of his tongue and hits his throat. 

“Fuck, yeah, so good,” Dieter agrees. 

It’s more than good. It’s incredible, unbelievable. He watches Mulder’s shiny, puffy lips wrapped around him, so in awe of how gorgeous he is. His pretty eyes are closed, half concentration and half bliss as he slides in and out of Scully’s dripping cunt. 

It takes him a while to find a rhythm that works, but when he finds his groove he fucking finds it. Of course he’d be good at this, too. He fucks in and out of Scully once, twice, and then sinks his mouth down as far as he can on Dieter’s cock (all the fucking way— Jesus christ) and holds there while he pumps in and out of her some more. 

And Dieter’s so, so torn. He wants to be good for Scully, wants to challenge Mulder for her and keep up the show. He wants to hang on so she can crumble as she watches her partner taking and receiving so perfectly at the same time.

But he wants to be good for Mulder too. He wants to come in his mouth and give him the satisfaction of satisfying. He wants to let Mulder prove to Scully how good he is, let him make them both come and writhe under his skill and rapt attention. 

And it’s like Scully can sense it. With her free hand, she reaches up and cups his balls. It makes his fucking toes curl, makes him cry out her name and slam his eyes shut to stave it off. He’s being tagged teamed by the objects of some of his earliest sexual fantasies and it takes him biting his lip so hard he draws blood to keep it together. 

He realizes the noises he’s making are borderline embarrassing. He’s mewling and gasping and whimpering as she squeezes and strokes, as her fingers meet Mulder’s lips every time he takes him deep. He’s shaking with the effort it takes to not fuck Mulder’s mouth. And he’s sweating, and he hopes to god it doesn’t start to trickle down and land on Scully’s blissed-out face.

And then it doesn’t much matter, because those dainty fingers and well-kept nails travel back, across his taint, and press. 

“I can’t— I can’t, oh my god.”

Mulder hums around his cock in an echo of the noise Scully makes under him. He’s teetering on the edge, tensed up, out of his mind as Scully massages that spot and Mulder swirls his tongue around the head of his cock. 

And in sync, like they always are, in a way that takes him completely off guard but should be absolutely predictable, they unravel him. 

Mulder takes him down his throat and swallows, and the pad of one of Scully’s fingers taps his entrance, and he’s done. 

He might scream, if he’s being honest. There was never any hope for a warning, the way they ganged up to play him like a fucking fiddle. Mulder groans as the first explosive spurt of Dieter’s cum shoots down his throat. He pulls back as Dieter continues to spill with each spasm of his muscles, as he tries but fails to suck Scully’s finger up inside him. He writhes and curses and clenches Mulder’s hair a little too tight as he works through his orgasm. 

Mulder dutifully collects every last drop, extremely intent on keeping it from spilling down across Scully’s face. He is such a good boy for her. Mulder whimpers when she tells him so in her breathy, sexy way she does. His hips stutter inside of her just as Dieter slips from his swollen lips. 

He doesn’t get reprieve yet, though. Mulder’s long, lean body arches up, and his arm reaches to grab a fist full of Dieter’s hair and tug and oh, god, he might just come again.

Their lips crash together, and before Dieter can think of how metallic the taste is, Mulder’s pushing his own load into his mouth forcefully. Dieter takes it all, sucks it down and swallows as he pants against Mulder’s mouth. 

Then he thanks him, and he thanks Scully, over and over with baited breath until he collapses to the side of them, completely spent and overstimulated. 

“You did so good,” he hears Scully say. 

Only she’s not talking to him. 

She’s got both her hands on Mulder’s face. Her lips just brushing against his own as she whispers. He watches her hike her legs up to wrap around Mulder’s waist, watches Mulder sag into her so he’s plastered against her front. 

“Scully,” Mulder whines. 

“Harder, Mulder. Make me come.”

He kisses her one last time before he buries his face in her neck and obeys, pulling nearly all the way out of her before driving back in. She’s really vocal now, now that she has Mulder’s undivided attention, now that he can focus on fucking her steadily and deep and fast.

Her head is thrown back and she looks so fucking beautiful. Mulder should be looking at her, shouldn’t miss a moment of the way she looks as he’s making her fall apart. But Dieter can’t blame him, or the concentrated, almost pained look he has on his face that’s just peeking out under her chin. 

It’s crazy how she seems to be fucking him from under all his weight, but she’s doing exactly that. Her toned legs pull him into her, her hips arching to meet his, so frantic and hot. One of her hands is leaving red marks down his back and the other one is petting through his hair, scraping his scalp and pulling so many gorgeous noises from him. 

Dieter couldn’t look away if he tried. His spent cock is twitching, trying it’s damndest to steal what little blood is left in his brain. He wants to help them along, maybe take Scully’s nipple into his mouth, but they’re both crushed under Mulder’s body in a way Dieter’s extremely jealous of. He could touch Mulder, could grab his pert little asscheek and squeeze. But he resigns to the sidelines instead, lets them share this intimate moment with only the intrusion of his eyes and heavy breathing. 

It’s over pretty quickly, anyway. Mulder starts babbling again, a great fucking look on him, there where he’s hidden in the pale crook of her neck. 

“Please, Scully. Come for me— I wanna make you come. I wanna be good, let me make you feel good.”

And she’s grinding her hips up as her back arches off the bed, no doubt catching her swollen clit on that enticing patch of wiry curls above his prick. She’s panting and gasping and then she’s shouting.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop, Mulder, oh my god! So good, good boy— I’m gonna come—”

And she does. Beautifully. She tenses up and then she shakes, convulsing under him, around him. She moans and mumbles through it, with her eyes shut tight and her cute little nose all scrunched and her mouth hanging open. 

It’s so beautiful that she outshines Mulder. Dieter barely even catches his groans, the curses under his breath as his hips stutter and grind into her. They both ride it out for a while, it’s like it’s never going to end. They writhe against each other and Mulder’s panting into her mouth as she tries her best to kiss his open lips. Their rhythm takes forever to slow, and even longer to come to a stop. 

It’s better than anything Dieter ever could have imagined. He’s already half hard again, just watching them be together, and that fact only makes him want to leave, disappear, let them play this out without some stranger in their bed. 

But christ he wants to stay and watch just as bad. 

Their eyes flutter open at the same time, and the smiles on their faces are as nauseating as they are precious. Scully looks like the cat that got the cream, and Mulder has the audacity to look sheepish. 

“I uh—” Mulder’s voice cracks, and he clears his throat, “I didn’t pull out.”

Scully giggles. 

“I noticed.”

He huffs, and she smooths his sweaty hair from his forehead.

“I’m on the pill.”

Mulder sighs. 

“That’s— that’s good.”

Idiots, Dieter thinks. The situational irony is off the charts. His huff alerts them both, snaps them out of their little bubble to look over at him. 

He opens his mouth to say something but nothing comes to mind. Scully gives him an amused little smirk and reaches over to pet his hair. 

“You were so good,” she muses. 

He shivers at her words and her fucked-out gaze. 

Mulder shifts on top of her, and they both gasp a little noise when he slips out of her, but they’re both focused on him. 

Mulder looks him up and down and for a moment he isn’t sure if he’s about to kick him out of bed or kiss him within an inch of his life. 

He does neither, it turns out. Instead he holds the side of Dieter’s face in his big, sweaty palm and it’s so soothing that he closes his eyes and leans into it. His thumb strokes Dieter’s cheek while Scully plays with his hair and he could die happy here. 

“Yeah man, thank you. That was good— you were good.”

Dieter’s eyes open wide at that. They’re both looking at him with fondness— appreciation. His chest swells with a heavy feeling just as his eyes begin to sting. 

“Thank you,” he whispers. 

He just barely catches the confused looks on their faces before he hides his own, rolling over into his stomach to let his pitiful tears fall into the blanket below him. Scully ruffles his hair with a sympathetic coo and Mulder pats him on the back of his heated neck before he hears rustling and feels the bed shift. 

“Oh my god.”

Scully’s voice sounds horrified. For a quick moment, his tiny little pea brain thinks of Queequeg— is he alright, did he get out while they were occupied?

“What the hell?”

Mulder’s voice sounds much more amused. 

Confused, Dieter wipes his wet eyes in what he hopes is an inconspicuous move before he looks over his shoulder at them.

Scully and Mulder are both standing at the foot of the bed, looking equal parts mortified and puzzled. And they’re staring at Dieter’s bare ass. 

His bare ass that he now remembers is tattooed. Tattooed with Mulder and Scully’s face on each cheek, respectively. 

“Oh, ha— yeah. Maybe that could have proved it faster?”

His face feels hot. He’s had these asscheek tattoos for so long he sometimes forgets about them. He was young and drunk and high when he got them, but they still hold up. Full color portraits of his favorite FBI agents. 

“What do the words say?” Scully asks. 

Mulder takes one for the team and leans in closer to Dieter’s ass, and he wonders if his blush goes all the way to his buttcheeks. 

“Mine says the truth is out there, and yours says I want to believe.”

Dieter lets out a nervous chuckle and shifts, a little scrutinized, a little embarrassed, a little bit turned on at the way Mulder’s gaze settles over his body.

“When did you get these?”

“1998, right after the movie came out.”

“There’s a movie?”

“Two, actually.”

Scully shakes her head and looks from Mulder to Dieter’s butt, back and forth a few times. 

“I’ll give you this one, Mulder. Only because there’s no lake monster for you to boast about.”

Mulder preens, a satisfied smirk settling on his handsome face. 

“Finally,” he and Dieter say at the exact same time. 

She rolls her eyes. 

“Brag about it in the morning. I’m tired— and my bed’s clean,” she throws her voice over her shoulder as she leaves the room. 

Dieter stays put. His ankles roll around in an attempt to hide his hesitation. He stares at the empty doorway and avoids Mulder’s lanky form. 

“You coming, Doc Brown?”

He’d be stupid not to follow like an eager pup. 

They all nestle into Scully’s bed. She’s in the middle, wrapped up in blankets, and the guys take either side of her. Dieter rests his head on her naked breast as she kisses Mulder goodnight, as Mulder’s fingers intertwine with his own over her smooth stomach. Their pillow talk lulls him to sleep and he goes to bed happy for the first time in years.

He wakes up alone, on his couch, in his own clothes, with his face smashed against his open laptop. 

A dream. It must have all been a crazy, weed and hormone induced dream. Best dream he’s ever had. He sighs, scratches his head and takes in his surroundings. 

Everything’s normal, exactly how he left it. Except, when he moves to his bedroom to mourn the loss of the day he never had, he sees a red and white trucker’s hat on his nightstand. 

Show us your bobbers

[makeitmingi]

The Cat and Dog Game [Chapter 30]

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Comedy

Pairing: Yunho x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Chef!Reader, RestaurantOwner!Yunho, MaitreD!Hongjoong, Waiter!Yeosang, Waiter!San, Waiter!Mingi, SousChef!Seonghwa, SousChef!Wooyoung, PrepChef!Jongho

Summary: Yunho's dream was to open and run his own restaurant. But he doesn't know anything when it comes to cooking. Until you came along and accepted the job, bringing with you a small crew. How will the black cat tame the energetic golden retriever?

Word count: 3.2K

"Uncle Junghyun? What are you doing here?" You blinked in surprise, seeing the older male. The male looked up at you, standing up and hugging you. It took you a while to process that he was actually here before you hugged him back.

"You probably thought I was your dad, huh?" He elbowed you teasingly. You rolled your eyes.

"Dad will not come here without making a scene. Plus, he doesn't have the patience like yours to sit here and wait for me to be done with the morning shift." You scoffed.

"I hope you've had a snack." You raised an eyebrow as you took the seat across the table from him.

"Of course. I got a jam pastry. I knew you were the one who made it. And might I say, it is delicious." He chuckled.

"How did you know I made it?"

"It was one of your mother's favourite pastries. Of course, you would have her recipe in making it." He said. This brought you back to the conversation you had with your father last night.

"So, what did the old man do to make you leave without a goodbye last night?" He asked as you took the seat across the table.

"It's nothing. He just... was being dad... You know how he is." You looked away. How could you bring it up? There was nothing to bring up except for the fact that your father was bad in dealing with situations and that it was the first time you were hearing there were rumours you weren't your father's biological child.

"Hmm, secretive as ever." He smirked.

"Not that, I just don't think it's worth wasting time over. Every time I'm with him, we argue and fight. It's the same old story, we get under each other's skin." You sighed.

"I get it. Alright, let's talk about something else then." He said, eyes shifting to look at something else. You tilted your head in confusion.

"The tall one at the cashier, he's the one?" He asked, sipping the remainder of his coffee.

"How'd you know?" Your eyes widened, turning around to see Yunho standing by the counter. He was a bad actor, it was obviously he was trying to busy himself with something else.

"He was oddly defensive when I said I was a family member looking for you. And when I sat here, he kept glancing over with a mix of worry and curiosity. I have to say, he isn't very subtle with his spying." Your uncle chuckled.

"Uncle..."

"Don't worry, I won't mention him to your dad. Besides, your dad and I aren't as close as you think anymore." He said.

Yunho watched curiously. Seeing your relaxed form as you spoke to the man, he figured that he wasn't your father. After finishing the dinner preparation, Seonghwa came out.

"Oh, it's uncle Junghyun." He sighed in relief.

"That's her uncle?" Yunho turned to the oldest. Seonghwa nodded his head.

"Not blood related. But he's close with her dad, known each other since they were kids. They've been business partners since forever so (y/n) grew up seeing him often." Seonghwa explained.

"Oh, no wonder he's dressed so... nicely? I'm just glad that isn't her father or I may have to escort him out of here." Yunho tilted his head as he tried to describe the way your uncle was dressed. Seonghwa laughed and nodded his head in agreement. Suddenly, you stood up and waved Yunho over.

"Me?" He pointed at himself, surely you meant Seonghwa. But you nodded in confirmation and Yunho headed over.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Jeong Yunho." He was quick to introduce himself without you saying anything, giving a deep, respectfuly bow as he held the man's hand with two hands.

"Relax, son. I'm Junghyun, (y/n)'s uncle." Junghyun chuckled.

"Right, since he introduced himself already. Yes, boyfriend, uncle." You gestured to each other.

Yunho's eyes widened and his ears turned bright red, this was the first time you directly called him the title of 'boyfriend' and it was to introduce him to someone else.

"Are you okay?" You turned to him, seeing him frozen.

"Y-Yeah." He rubbed the back of his neck. Junghyun let out an amused chuckle at Yunho's behaviour. Upon checking his watch, he stood up.

"I'll see you around, kiddo. Treat your boyfriend well." He hugged you, patting your head.

"I do treat him well. And every time you say you'll see me around, you never come visit. Then you suddenly appear like 2 years later. " You rolled your eyes but both males with you could tell that you were seriously disappointed.

"I'll try my best to come back more. But you're good on your own, I'm sure Yunho here will be of better support to you than I am." He gave you a fatherly smile.

"Yes, I'll always be with her." Yunho promised.

"That's not the point and you know it..." You mumbled. Junghyun smiled and cast a wave to Seonghwa before leaving.

With that, you and Yunho went to the kitchen to have more privacy. You were scheduled to leave to rest for the afternoon and Seonghwa was waiting for you to drive you home.

"I'll call you." Yunho said, hugging you in the locker room. You nodded and gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

"Rest up." You squeezed his hand before taking your things and leaving with Seonghwa.

"Nap time!" You declared, making Seonghwa wince at your shout. He rolled his eyes and drove back to your house. You didn't expect Jongho and Wooyoung to be there. But now that you thought about it, it had been a while since they've been over. Even if it was only for a few hours.

You showered in your own shower, which Jongho used after. He snuck in, leaving Seonghwa and Wooyoung to argue over who uses the guest bathroom first.

"I won~" Wooyoung said as he dove under the covers beside you, knowing he was taking Seonghwa's spot.

"Who is this?" He lifted the stuffed toy.

"That's Yuyu, the golden retriever..." You coughed as you ended your sentence, looking away in slight embarrassment. While Wooyoung snickered, you snatched Yuyu and Yunnie away from him.

"Go sleep in the guest room." You rolled your eyes. Wooyoung shook his head like a small child.

"I highly doubt Seonghwa hyung will let you take his spot." Jongho said as he emerged from the bathroom, drying his hair.

"He snoozes, he loses." Wooyoung stuck his tongue out childishly. As if he heard the whole conversation, Seonghwa appeared at the door way with an eyebrow raised. He silently challenged Wooyoung. No one takes his spot.

"You can sleep on her other side." Wooyoung protested.

"Goodnight." Jongho patted your head and went to the guestroom, not wanting to waste time hearing Wooyoung whine to Seonghwa. He just wanted to sleep.

"You sleep on her other side. Better yet, sleep in the other room." Seonghwa said, grabbing Wooyoung's calf and pulling him out of bed.

"Yah~" Wooyoung whined from his spot on the floor. But Seonghwa couldn't care less, getting under the covers and fluffing his pillow.

"There's space in the guest room and the couch. Why do you guys insist on squeezing here?" You chuckled.

"I've been here since the start. I don't know about him." Seonghwa nodded over to Wooyoung. But Wooyoung was determined, he went to your other side, making you scooch to the middle of the bed, all the while holding Yuyu and Yunnie in your arms. He grinned and snuggled into your back.

"Set an alarm, please." You said to Seonghwa before closing your eyes to sleep.

But after sleeping in the middle of them, you couldn't stretch properly so you grabbed the two stuffed animals with you and retreated to the guest room to sleep with Jongho.

"Took you long enough." Jongho mumbled.

"Had to wait for them to fall asleep, didn't even flinch when I got up..." You murmured back.

"Mmm, get some rest." He patted your hip before pulling the blanket up to cover your properly and going back to sleep as well. You hummed, slowly falling asleep.

By the time you woke up, you had time to have a call with Yunho. You couldn't stay asleep long so you spent whatever time you had alone talking to him. Of course, you insisted that Yunho should use the time to sleep but he'd much rather talk to you.

"I'm fine, Yunho. I am glad that you got to meet my uncle Junghyun though, and vice versa. He's such a father figure in my life." You said to him, pacing up and down with the phone pressed to your ear.

"I'm glad I got to meet him too. He seems nice and really cares for you. You grew up with him?"

"I did. He was always around when I was younger, knew the whole family. He would let me get away with a lot more than my dad." You chuckled.

"But he doesn't stay in Korea?"

"Yeah, he travels a lot since he decided to settle down in that sort of business. Always meeting clients." You said.

"So he doesn't work with your father anymore? He seemed to not speak well of your father too, even if they are best friends."

"They don't work together anymore but I guess they're still friends. I don't know how he ever put up with my father... That's what I fought with my father at the gala the other night. He was being all accusatory towards my uncle. I guess that's why he stayed away and doesn't visit as often." You sighed.

"I'm sorry, (y/n). I can tell that you were really close with your uncle. No matter what, your father shouldn't have let his own feelings break that bond you had..."

"It is what it is. Uncle Junghyun never addressed it to me either so I have no choice but to let it go." You sat down on the couch.

"I know it's easier said than done."

"Yeah. Are you sure you don't want to get some sleep, Yunho? You clocked in early with me this morning. Even if you don't want to sleep, I hope you're lying down." You said.

"Don't worry about me, (y/n). Remeber, I have infinite golden retriever energy? But just so you don't fret, I am lying down now."

"That's good." You smiled to yourself. You could just imagine the big grin on his face.

"I know this is coming up all of a sudden but I realised you have not visited my place before. Would you like to stay over tomorrow night? After work. We can go in for tomorrow's morning on Monday then go for a date after."

"Wow, an invite to stay over already? That's fast and I haven't even seen the place yet." You teased him. As expected, Yunho grew flustered, stuttering nervously.

"Y-You don't have to! I-I know we just established things... s-so we can just... not..."

"I'm kidding, Yunho. Sure, I'd love to stay over if you would have me. You sound like you have a date planned already?" You laughed.

"You're always teasing me and making fun of me... But yes, I did already plan a date but it's a surprise. I'm making the reservations now as we speak."

"Can't wait." You smiled, knowing he was probably pouting on the other side as your tease.

"Me too. I'll see you tonight?"

"Yeah. I'll see you later. Goodbye, Yunho." You wished and hung up. Seonghwa came out, half asleep. His eyes fell on you and a small smile appeared on his face as he shuffled over, laying his head in your lap while his legs stretched over the arm rest. Your fingers raked through his hair, making him yawn.

"When did you move to Jongho's bed?" He asked sleepily.

"Shortly after you and Wooyoung fell asleep. You two were smothering me. My bed isn't that big, you know?" You scoffed, while typing on your phone.

"Were you talking to Yunho on the phone?" He asked another question. You hummed in reply.

"I couldn't stay asleep. Plus, I told him he could call me. I told him a little about uncle Junghyun and my dad." You informed.

"How did that go?" He closed his eyes to snooze for a little longer but was still listening to you. You paused for a second, your hand stopping on his temple.

"It was okay. He was accepting, of course. Patient... He listened... Understood me... Didn't push me to share more when I stopped." You tried to piece your thoughts together. You felt Seonghwa nod against your thigh.

"Is it normal? Not the fear but... some daunting feeling." You asked with a soft sigh.

"Oh, sweetheart. It's completely normal." Seonghwa said, his hand resting on your knee, his thumb caressing the skin softly.

"Done with the bathroom, hyung. You can go get ready." Wooyoung yawned as he came out, dressed in his outside clothes for the night. Jongho came out too, dressed and ready.

"Oh, that reminds me. I need to get some sourdough starter for the fish tonight." You went to the kitchen. Jongho helped you pack what you needed.

"Anything else we need?" Wooyoung asked.

"Can you get a pack of cloth gloves? They should be in the store. We need to prepare the sea urchin for our pasta sauce." You instructed.

While waiting for Seonghwa to come out, you went to change, leaving Jongho and Wooyoung to pack anything else you might need to cook for the dinner service. After that, you poured cold coffees for all 3 of you, setting aside a strawberry yoghurt drink for Seonghwa, his favourite.

"Alright, let's go." Seonghwa and you came out of the room. You rode with Wooyoung while Jongho and Seonghwa rode together. You sent Yunho a text, letting him know you just arrived for dinner prep.

"Texting the boyfriend?" Wooyoung asked.

"Shut up..." You mumbled, locking your phone and tucking it into your pocket. You both unloaded the items and brought them into the kitchen.

"Let's get started team." You said to the 4 and began immediately. As always, you had your written list pinned on the wall.

"Who is starting the stifado (Greek beef stew with red wine, tomatoes and pearl onions)?" You asked. Jongho raised his hand.

"I'll need someone on the live station for the sea urchin pasta later." You called out. Seonghwa raised his hand, taking responsibility for the pasta that will be cooked to order. It was bucatini, tossed in a sea urchin sauce with salted pollack roe and gochujang oil.

"Starting on the braised pork shoulder!" Wooyoung informed without you needing to ask who was going to do it.

His dish was a wine and pomegranate molasses braised pork shoulder, cooked with sweet potatoes, chestnuts and carrots. It will be sliced and served with the reduced braising liquid.

"Since I'll be on live station, let me start on dessert and let that rest." Seonghwa said.

"I will be doing the fish dish for today." You said, going to the kitchen to get the tomatoes for your sauce.

Your dish was a thin layer of sourdough starter as the coating around the fish fillets, lightly pan frying it and finishing with butter. Serving that with charred red bell peppers and a crushed tomato sauce.

"So, you're not going to pane the fish?" Seonghwa asked.

"Not exactly. My plan is to dip it into the starter like a wet batter but keep it thin. I just want a slight texture, nothing too crunchy like breadcrumbs. And I want that tangy flavour to come through." You said, crushing the tomatoes with your hands in a bowl for the sauce that you were making.

[A/N: I actually had a dish like this the other day and it was so good. I knew I had to put it in here.]

"While that is going, I'm going to start filleting my fish." You cleared your station and set up the area. You grabbed your filleting knife and kept the bin nearby to keep it as clean as possible.

"My stew is simmering. Can I help?" Jongho came over. You nodded and he set up beside you.

"Bones in here. I'm gonna keep them for a stock." You informed.

"Sure." He hummed and began filleting the fishes with you. You all worked on your own tasks, helping each other whenever there was an available window.

"Good evening." You were so focused on plating up the first sample of your dish that you didn't hear Yunho come in.

"She's in the zone. She can't hear you." Seonghwa said to Yunho.

"It's alright. I won't bother her then." The taller male smiled, nodding his head understandingly. He proceeded out to the front, he could always say hi to you later. He didn't want to take your attention away or break your focus.

"Yunho? Sorry, I didn't notice you came in." You sighed as you came out. Yunho turned around, a smile appearing on his face as he saw you approach him.

"Mm-mm, don't apologise." He wrapped his arms around you, engulfing you in a big puppy hug.

"Did you rest?" You asked, words muffled with the way you were pressed against his shoulder. He nodded with a hum.

"I hope you did too." He kissed your head while you tip toed to place a peck on his cheek. Yunho was grinning so much that his cheeks were starting to hurt, but he didn't care.

"Want to try my dish for tonight?" You looked at him. He nodded excitedly and followed you into the kitchen.

"Aww." Wooyoung cooed as the two of you, making Jongho elbow his ribs.

"Here. It's a fish dish." You explained, pushing the plate towards Yunho. He took a fork and broke a piece of fish, eating it with the roasted red bell pepper and tomato sauce. You watched his expressions intently. It wasn't important for Yunho to like it, you just wanted his honest comments.

"It's good. I like it, it's not too greasy and the outside coating is thin but adds a crunch. The sauce is very nice and bright." Yunho smiled. You smiled and nodded.

"Glad you like it. Thanks, Yunho." You said.

"I'm taking this with me." He grabbed the plate to bring it to the front to finish the remaining food. You laughed, shaking your head.

"Good evening." The other boys showed up. Mingi did the staff meal for dinner. Hearing that, Yunho volunteered to help him. Of course, he denied that he was doing it just to be around you.

"Yah! Yah! You're putting too much gochugaru!" Mingi called Yunho, whose hand froze over the pot.

"Oh, oops." Yunho blushed, putting the hot pepper flakes down.

"Stop staring at (y/n) and focus, man." Mingi rolled his eyes. Hearing Mingi's words, you felt your cheeks heat up too. You cleared your throat and continued what you were doing. Yunho knew you heard Mingi's words, exposing his actions.

"Shut up, Mingi." Yunho hissed. Mingi snickered and continued cutting the vegetables to put into the soup.

~

Series masterlist

[sgt-tombstone]

https://www. tumblr. com/tiktoks-repost/664415151341076480

saw this and now i'm picturing soapghost in this situation

link, you’re so right anon

I’m thinking an au where Soap is part of a search and rescue team and Ghost, who was discharged for medical reasons but still lives close to base, gets bullied volunteered by his old captain, Price, to be a casualty victim for the CSAR (combat search and rescue) drills

Ghost would hate it, because it reminds him of actually being injured, but Price always makes sure that his fake injury is vastly different from the real one that got him discharged, and he actually has a lot of fun playing a victim. He knows how real injuries work, how real victims act in the heat of combat, and he really enjoys getting to play “bad” victims (ones who refuse treatment or are combative, because the PJs need to know how to deal with that too)

He’s never really treated it as anything more serious than helping to train soldiers to do their jobs better, but then he’s leaning up against the side of a house in the middle of a field in the base training grounds, and he sees a pair of brilliant blue eyes approaching, startling in their intensity and almost scary in their conviction, and Ghost thinks that maybe, for the first time, he might be in over his head.

The soldier scans the area, gun at the ready, because the first step in a search and rescue situation is securing the premise (and fuck, this guy is well-trained, Ghost thinks to himself, half-sullenly and half-grudgingly impressed, he knows what he’s doing), and then he drops to his knees by Ghost’s side. His gaze drops to the card in Ghost’s hand, marking Ghost as an amputee with a sucking chest wound (a far cry from the brush fire that had caused 3rd degree burns along his entire left side and more skin grafts than Ghost could count). Ghost tries not to be upset about the loss of eye contact, especially when the man opens his mouth.

“I’m Soap,” he says, thick accent distracting from the utter ridiculousness of his call sign. He’s deadly serious, both his tone and face conveying his devotion to rescuing Ghost. “I’m gonnae get ye out of here, I promise.”

Normally, Ghost would thrash around a bit, maybe have some fun letting out a little cry (who ever said he wasn’t a good actor? Price kept bringing him back for a reason, and he was directly responsible for many CSAR operatives developing eye twitches. But they were better soldiers for it, so who really won?) but he can only stare as Soap starts undoing his tac vest (the only time he still gets to wear it) and pulling on gloves to start simulating treatment for Ghost’s fake wound.

He keeps one hand braced on Ghost’s chest, apparently where he’s decided the sucking chest wound would be, applying pressure while preparing a dressing (god, who approved the funds for all of the equipment they wasted in practice? Ghost wasn’t about to start complaining) and pressing a chest seal against Ghost’s bare skin. He tells Ghost to exhale, then secures the dressing. It’s a textbook treatment, as far as Ghost can tell (and he’s done this a lot) but there’s something about Soap’s sure hands, his unwavering haze, his steady presence, that makes it feel like something more.

When Soap moves down to pull up his pant leg, obviously intent on treating his fake leg amputation, Ghost stops breathing altogether, and if he ends the day by receiving very real CPR from a very concerned Soap (as well as Soap’s personal phone number), well… what Price won’t know won’t hurt him, right??

(he’ll be Ghost’s best man at the wedding two years later, and his speech will have many, many innuendos about a certain sucking chest wound, much to Simon’s mortification)

[illiterateaffairs]

behind the scenes chapter one | i enjoyed our meet cute

masterlist | next

pairing: jamie tartt x actress!reader (ted lasso)

rating: T

word count: 4,722

summary: you’ve been in richmond one day and you’re already having chance encounters with famous british football players, what are the odds?

a/n: welcome to the first chapter of my new jamie series, behind the scenes! fake dating is a god tier trope and i’ve always wanted to write something for it. it will also be very rom-com-y, just like ted would like. i really hope you enjoy the first chapter, i’m so excited to kick off this new story and can’t wait to hear your thoughts. also wanted to shout out @buckychristwrites​ who wrote an incredible fake dating jamie series called could this be and you should totally check it out if you haven’t already ♡

Your alarm goes off at 8AM on the dot but you’re already wide awake. You’ve been in London for 48 hours and instead of taking in the sights, you’ve been trying to reset your sleep schedule. After landing at 10AM Friday morning, you pretty much passed right out as soon as you arrived at your rented, two story brownstone. 

See, London was eight hours ahead of Los Angeles - your home base. While you were used to traveling for work, you’d never had a job in another country before. And jet lag was a bitch.

You’re an actor. You have been since you were 15, when you got a recurring role on a kids show after an opening casting call. Some called it luck, but you called it busting your ass in theater classes as soon as your mom could afford them. You’d been a “drama queen” since you were in diapers and you begged her to sign you up for every class, camp and play in your small town and she did everything she could to support your dream. She’s your biggest fan.

By the time you were 20, you’d had a sitcom and several supporting roles in films that made you an underrated fan favorite. Your biggest break came, though, when you were 22 and were given the opportunity to star opposite A-list actors in the superhero film of the summer. After that you blew up, you did a few more action movies and a couple other dramas. 

Now, freshly 25, with a lot of credits filling your IMDb page, there was one genre you still hadn’t tackled: romance. And that’s what brought you to London. You were filming your first romantic comedy in the beautiful town of Richmond. Usually when your job brought you to a new place, the first thing you wanted to do was explore it. However, spending the last couple days in and out of sleep was preventing you from doing so. Today was Sunday, your last day before production kicked off tomorrow, and you’d be damned if you didn’t get the chance to get out and do something before you were swamped with work.

You get ready quickly, eager to not waste another second inside. However, just as you swing your front door open, you come face to face with your assistant, who’s hand is poised to knock. 

“Oh, good, you’re already up,” she chirps, brushing past you and into your temporary home as she taps away on her iPhone. 

“Margot, I thought we agreed on no work this weekend,” you sigh, reluctantly following her into your living room.

“I agreed and you agreed, but Harry on the other hand,” she frowns holding up her phone, “He didn’t agree.”

You groan. Harry was your publicist. You’ve worked with him since getting the role in one of the Spiderman movies. He always had some crazy idea how to boost your public image, most of which you’ve shot down, but his most recent pitch he hasn’t been able to let go of. 

“He’s still bugging you about that shit?” you question, flopping down in an armchair. 

Margot perches on the arm of the sofa, “He’s only bugging me because you keep ignoring him. He still thinks it's a good idea.”

The good idea in question was agreeing to a fake relationship with another celebrity - or anyone really. Usually the goal of a PR relationship was to gain attention for one or both parties, or their upcoming projects. While that wouldn’t hurt, your publicist thought the benefit of having a fake boyfriend was that you’d appear more desirable. 

In your previous roles, you’d been typecast as the funny best friend or snarky sidekick. Not only was this movie you were about to film your first as the leading lady, it was the first where you were playing a romantic lead. You also haven’t been known to be seen with many suitors in your personal life as well. Not that you hadn’t had any significant others since entering the spotlight, but they’d been short lived and you tried to keep those relationships under the radar, not necessarily wanting the public’s opinion on your dating life. 

Of course, that didn’t stop journalists and people with Twitter accounts from speaking on it anyway. Since you got cast in this Rom-Com - Hopeless Romantics was the working title - you’d been subjected to criticism over how you couldn’t possibly be seen as a realistic love interest when you’ve yet to be painted as such both on and off the screen. Though, you’d love to point out that just because you hadn’t played a romantically driven character before didn’t mean you couldn’t now. You’ve learned to just ignore trolls like that. 

That didn’t mean from time to time the odd comment didn’t get under your skin. 

Still, you didn’t see the point in faking a relationship just to get these people off your back. You had the best fans in the world, who’d watch you do anything no matter the genre. And your co-star was Charlie Knox, who’d been pegged as this generation's Hugh Grant, so plenty of people would be buying tickets regardless. You could hardly argue, feeling flushed after your chemistry reed with the actor even though he was doing just that; acting. Harry had even previously suggested faking a relationship with him, which would be the perfect scenario according to him, but Charlie was of course already taken. 

“He’s going to have to give up eventually,” you shake your head, “Because I’m not doing it.” Margot makes a weird face and you tilt your head, “Don’t tell me you think I should do it.”

“No, of course not. You should have the autonomy to make your own decisions about your love life, real or fake,” she insists, “I just wish Harry didn’t make such a big deal about it.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry he’s bugging you about it. I can talk to him again.”

“No, don’t worry about it,” Margot sighs, “You should be enjoying your day off. Were you on your way out before? What were you thinking of doing?”

You shrug, not really having had a game plan, “I was thinking breakfast or something to start, and then seeing where the day takes me.”

She nods, once again tapping on her phone, “That sounds nice. Don’t be out too late, though. A car will be here to get you at 6AM for the read through.” As she stands up and starts walking to your door, she glances at you, “And wear a hat please. Last thing we need is you to be stampeded by fans like in The Lion King.”

“Margot, I love you, but there is no need to bring Mufasa into this,” you tease, “I promise I will be discreet, but only if you promise me you will also take time for yourself today.”

“I promise,” she says with a small smile, but before you know it, she's already back on the phone and out your door. 

You can’t be too hard on her. You were also known to prioritize your work over everything else most days. But she was not only the best assistant you could ask for, she was also one of your closest friends, and she deserved some time off. You’d have to talk to Harry at some point tomorrow to get him off her back. And yours. 

But first, food.

It had been one month - one fucking month - since Keeley had gotten back together with Roy. And it was the worst month of Jamie’s life. 

Yes, he still has feelings for Keeley. Yes, it hurt him to see her choose Roy, even if it had nothing to do with him. And it was twice as bad that Roy and him had finally started becoming actual friends after all these years. But that wasn’t really the problem. 

It was the way everyone has been looking at him since it happened.

It started with the apologetic look on Keeley’s face that greeted him when he answered the door one summer morning. Before she could get a word out, he knew what she was going to say. In fact, he’d seen it coming. Despite Keeley insisting she wasn’t choosing between him and the grumpy old fart who was now his head coach, the two had been spending more and more time together. Keeley was around the club more and Roy was less grumpy. That morning, Keeley told him she wanted him to hear it from her that they were thinking of starting things again. His stomach twisted, disappointed that he’d practically lost her for the second time. But, God, the look of sympathy she was giving him felt even worse.

That was nothing compared to the way Roy looked at him when he walked into the locker room later that day. Roy wasn’t one to talk about or express his feelings, but he still managed to somehow convey his guilt and apology through a single look. Jamie just shook his head, eager to not speak a single word about the topic and move on. For the first time he wished Roy would just yell at him like he usually did. 

Then a week later, Roy and Keeley were publicly a couple again. The rest of the team and staff were elated, but the few who’d known Jamie had been pining for the bubbly blonde again looked on at him sympathetically, patting him on the back and muttering affirmations on the way to training. In the grand scheme of things, they were just being nice, but he fucking hated it.

He was Jamie Fucking Tartt. He could be with anyone he wanted. Sure, the only girl who’s liked him for him and the only one he’s truly loved would rather be with someone else; someone else who was one of his best friends now. So what? The last thing he wanted was everyone around him treating him like a wounded puppy. He was fine.

It didn’t help that he saw Keeley and Roy all the time. At work. At team celebrations. At friendly gatherings. They were everywhere. In fact, they went the extra mile to include him in things to make him feel better, though it had the opposite effect. He felt like a charity case. He didn’t need them babysitting him, like he couldn’t spend a single night alone without collapsing into a full mental breakdown. 

To be fair, the last time he’d had a night to himself, he’d made the mistake of turning on The Notebook for the first time out of morbid curiosity and he wept for an hour. But it was The Notebook for fuck’s sake, what else was he going to do?

Things improved little by little as the weeks had gone by. Sam and Colin stopped giving him glances everytime Keeley visited the locker room to drop something off for Roy. Keeley stopped looking at him with guilt riddled eyes, but there was still a weird energy between them when they hung out. And with Roy things felt mostly normal. 

At least he thought so, but this morning Jamie’s been wandering around his house aimlessly waiting for Roy to show up for their regular early morning training. He’d been ready at promptly 4AM but there was no sign of his coach. He waited thirty minutes before calling but no answer. So, he plopped on the couch and watched some cooking show for another hour or so before trying again. It wasn’t until 8AM - four hours later - he got a call back from Roy.

“Hey, I thought old people were usually up early,” Jamie teased upon answering, “Did you oversleep, grandad?”

Instead of Roy’s gravelly voice responding, he hears another familiar voice in the background, “Is that Jamie? Tell him I’m sorry.”

Keeley.

Jamie’s stomach twists. Of course.

“Uh, yeah,” Roy’s voice eventually says, “Keeley was here and I forgot to set an alarm. We were going to get breakfast but then we can meet at the park if you still want?”

Roy grunts as Keeley speaks up again, voice distant, “Oi, ask if he wants to join us.”

Roy sighs into the phone, “Yeah, unless you want to come to breakfast with us?”

Jamie closes his eyes. Another pity invite. “Um, thanks mate. That’s alright, though. Think I’ll get some running in on my own and maybe we can meet up later tonight.”

“Yeah, that works…” Roy says before tacking on, “Sorry, Jamie.”

Jamie chuckles humorlessly, “Not a problem. Talk to ya later.”

He hangs up and tosses his phone across the couch. Not only did Jamie not like feeling like a third wheel, he didn’t like being one because the other two felt guilty. Especially when he was still getting over his feelings for one of them. He groans, forcing himself off the couch, eager to stay true to his word. He needed to run off these feelings. 

You’d been leisurely walking through the streets of Richmond for a little while, enjoying the early fall breeze and the sights as the leaves started to change color. You’ve been trying to keep an eye out for a place to grab breakfast or a snack, but you’ve been distracted by the shops and the people walking around you. For your part, you were donned in sunglasses with a ball cap tilted low on your head. So far no one has stopped you, which was nice. Not that you minded meeting the occasional fan. Most were sweet and you adored connecting with people face to face, but there was always the risk of someone just in search of an autograph or selfie despite not caring about you or your work, not to mention nosy paparazzi who pop out of nowhere to get a photo. So, you’re enjoying the semblance of normalcy while you can. You sense that once filming starts, those in the area will be eager to catch a glimpse of you and your costars any chance they get. 

You’re a little too comfortable with flying under the radar, when as you’re turning a street corner someone runs right smack into you. You both fall to the ground, your sunglasses flying clear off your face. Your heart hammers in your chest, wondering if someone had done this on purpose, but the stranger next to you also appears to be scrambling. 

“Fuck, sorry,” they mutter, grabbing your discarded sunglasses for you before pulling you both up. As he places the glasses back in your hands, his eyes meet yours for the first time, “Oh shit, are you…”

You smile sheepishly, his eyes alight with recognition. You’re still a little anxious from the encounter, as you try to get your breathing to return to normal. You vaguely wonder if this guy is going to ask for a picture or something, when you actually hear the familiar click of a camera and your blood runs cold. 

“Hey Jamie Tartt!” an accented man calls, “Who’s the girl, Jamie?

The man in front of you looks back at you with wide eyes and grabs your hand, “Shit, come with me.”

You can barely process what he’d said as he pulled you down the street, “What? Where are we going?”

“Somewhere private,” he explains as you continue jogging alongside him, “Where there’s one paparazzi, ten will follow. But I’m sure you know that.”

You can’t argue with him. But you do wonder who the hell this guy is that he’s so familiar with paparazzi. You also briefly consider if following a guy you’ve never met through alleyways is a smart decision, but you hardly have the time to dwell on it. 

After a few minutes, this mystery guy, who you can only presume is named Jamie if the paparazzi was right, leads you through an unassuming storefront that ends up being a charming and quaint little café. You look around curiously. It’s not completely vacant, but the patrons don’t bat an eye when the two of you enter. The middle aged barista behind the counter looks at your companion with a warm smile and greets him, once again, by Jamie.

After your heart rate returns to normal, you turn to the man beside you. He gives you a tiny shrug, “I come here when I don’t want to be bothered. Not many people know about this place but it has the best scones in Richmond.”

You squint at him in curiosity, “So, I’m guessing you’re…someone of note then, too? If that paparazzi was taking your picture and you have a secret hideout.”

He chuckles, looking a little bashful, which you have a feeling is out of character for this guy, “Uh, yeah, I’m Jamie Tartt? Premier League footballer for AFC Richmond?”

Your cheeks heat up, “Oh, uh, sorry, I’m not really familiar with…”

He cuts you off, “No need to apologize. Wouldn’t expect an actress from the states to know anything about English football.”

You chuckle, despite yourself, “Well, if it helps I don’t know much about American football either. Or any sport for that matter.”

Jamie’s lips quirk up again, “I know you, though. From that thing.”

You snort, “Well, I’ve done a couple of things.”

He shakes his head, “No, no, no, you’re in that one movie, what’s it called,” he snaps his fingers, “Meet Me in Melrose, that's the one!”

“Wow, that’s a deep cut,” you comment, the film being an indie you worked on years ago; one of your first bigger roles despite the lower budget project.

“Yeah, my old coach? It was one of his favorites, so the whole team became obsessed. We’ve watched a bunch of your stuff,” he explains.

“That’s cool,” you nod with a small smile.

He nods along with you before suddenly becoming very aware of his situation, “Uh, can I order you something? Or, shit, you probably had somewhere to be. I usually try to wait things out for a while here, but if you have to go…”

You once again consider the oddity of casually hanging out in a cafe with a man you just met, but he seems trustworthy enough. And even a bit intriguing.

So you respond, “No, I don’t. I was just out exploring before. I was actually looking for a place to eat so this is perfect. I’m happy to hang out here for a bit.”

“Okay, cool,” Jamie nods again, still feeling a bit unsure of what to do when a Hollywood movie star is suddenly in your midst, “Uh, do you like coffee? Tea?”

You shake your head, “You don’t have to buy anything for me.”

“Well, I was the one who crashed into you and abducted you here so it’s the least I can do.”

You giggle, “Okay fine, I’ll take a hot chocolate. Coffee makes me anxious and tea tastes like a worse version of water. No offense.”

Jamie laughs to himself before walking up to the counter to order for you both. He returns moments later with a hot chocolate for you and coffee for him, as well as two of those scones he mentioned, before leading you over to a small booth in the back of the cafe. 

“So, uh, you must come here often if the staff knows your name,” you say as you blow on your drink for it to cool, “Unless they’re all soccer - sorry - football fans?”

“Actually, Olive, the owner of the café doesn’t know shit about football. It's part of the appeal,” he tells you, “I manage to avoid photographers most of the time, but even if they’re not hounding me, I still like to come here to get away from things.”

“That makes sense. I feel like it's hard to do that in LA. Even the small businesses are overrun with influencers trying to find the trendiest spot nowadays,” you muse.

“Is that where you live? LA?” he asks.

“Mhm. Have you been?” 

“Nah. Been to New York before, but spent most of my time in some clubs,” he tells you, “Have you been to London before?”

“No, actually,” you admit, “I’ve always wanted to come but never got around to it. I’m actually here for a film.”

“Oh, yeah, a Rom-Com, right?” he asks and you nod, “It’s all anyone can talk about around the club these days. We’ve never had a big movie shoot in Richmond before.”

“Hmm, wait til everyone hears how you kidnapped one of the stars,” you joke, finally braving a sip of your drink.

Jamie laughs, “I think I’ll keep that one to myself. Plus, I don’t think they’d even believe me.”

You laugh along with him, thoroughly enjoying his company as well as the delicious cocoa. You also finally try the scone Jamie placed in front of you. Your eyes light up after the first bite.

“Is that blueberry?”

Jamie’s eyes widened, “Sorry, I should have asked…”

You furiously shake your head, “No, no, don’t apologize. I love blueberry.”

Jamie’s lips quirk up, “Me, too. It’s my favorite.”

You smile back, but it drops when you feel your phone buzzing in your pocket. Pulling it out, you see that you had a missed call from Harry along with a few text messages. Instead of responding, you roll your eyes and put it away, eager to forget that the man exists until tomorrow.

“Uh, everything okay?” Jamie asks tentatively. 

“Oh, yeah,” you reassure, plastering another smile on your face. Then you find a part of yourself that desperately wants to vent about your situation to an unbiased party, “Actually, uh, I’m not sure how much pressure football players are under for their image, but have you ever been asked or been in a fake relationship for PR?”

Jamie leans back, processing the question, “Uh, no. I haven’t really had a problem finding my own girlfriends.”

You snort, “Of course.”

“But I’ve heard of it happening with other footballers,” Jamie adds, “And there was this whole reality dating show I did and none of that was real.”

You gasp, “You were on a dating show?”

Jamie nods reluctantly, “Yeah. It was called Lust Conquers All. It was a low point.”

You can’t help but laugh, “Wow, I’ll have to check it out.”

“Please don’t,” Jamie groans, rubbing a hand over his face, wondering what possessed him to even bring it up.

After your laughter quells, Jamie eyes you curiously, “Why do you ask? About PR relationships, I mean.”

You sigh, looking down at your hands in your lap as you answer, “My publicist wants me to do the whole fake relationship thing.”

Jamie’s eyebrows furrow, “Why?”

You shrug, not eager to admit but still wanting to know his take nonetheless, “Apparently, I don’t seem like a romantic person, because I haven’t done a romantic role or publicly dated someone before.”

Jamie continues to look confused, “So? Isn’t that what actors do? Play new roles even if they haven’t done it before?”

“Yes, thank you,” you agree, nodding furiously, “But since I’ve only played cynical or sarcastic characters, that’s how people see me. Apparently, I don’t seem like a good choice for a movie called Hopeless Romantics.”

“But you’re not like your other characters in real life right?” he asks, “You’re not completely cynical about romance.”

You falter, your eyes flitting away from his. Jamie scoffs.

“Oh, come on, don’t tell me you’re anti-romance.”

“I’m not,” you sputter, “I just think dating is a little more complicated than the movies make it seem.”

Jamie doesn’t listen, “Wow, I can see why your publicist thinks you need a fake boyfriend for this to be a little more realistic. You can’t be against love and in a movie about love.”

You gasp, lightly shoving him, “Hey! I’ll have you know I’m not against love. It’s just…hard to come by for me.” You sigh, trying to figure out what exactly you’re willing to admit, “The last few guys I’ve dated weren't so great. They either only wanted to date me for the exposure or connections or money.”

Jamie’s expression sobers, “Oh.” 

“Yeah,” you nod, “My last relationship, if you could even call it that, was so short lived. It ended because he stole this fancy vase thing from my house.”

“Wow,” Jamie whispers.

“And jokes on him, it was from pottery barn,” you huff, “But yeah, basically its not love I don’t believe in. It’s other people. So I’ve been pretty content to be on my own these days.”

“I get that,” Jamie says softly after a beat, “I’ve dated plenty of girls who only wanted me cause I’m a footballer. Or cause I’m great at sex,” you snort, shaking your head, but he continues, “Not that I really wanted a real relationship, but it still hurts when someone doesn’t want you for you.”

“Exactly,” you nod, picking off pieces of your scone, “I’ve never been with someone who felt genuine. Have you?”

Jamie sighs and you sense there’s a story there, “Once, but I fucked it up. Didn’t realize what I had until it was gone. Classic right?”

You huff lightly.

“The worst part is she was kind enough to stay my friend even after the way I treated her,” he continues, “So not only does she treat me with kindness that I definitely don’t deserve, but I have to sit by and watch her be with someone else.”

You frown, “That must make it hard to move on.”

“You have no idea,” he chuckles humorlessly. 

“And you haven’t been with anyone else since?”

“A couple girls, but nothing serious. And no one recently. Haven’t really seen the point.”

“So I guess I’m not the only one who might be a little cynical then, huh?” you ask with a teasing smile.

He gives you a half smile. “Yeah, I guess I can’t be one to judge.”

You study him for a few more moments. After your introductions, you would have guessed Jamie Tartt was another classic playboy athlete, and after conversing with him that seemed to be his reputation. But now you weren’t so sure. He was…peculiar. 

You continue chatting for a while longer. He tells you more about his football team and you tell him a few spoiler-free details about the movie you’re shooting. Before you know it, you’d been camped out in this cafe with Jamie for a full hour. Time flies when you’re enjoying yourself. You had to imagine the paparazzi had to have left the area by now. And while you weren’t in a hurry to cut your conversation short, your hot chocolate was no longer hot and your scone was long gone. 

“Hey, this place is really nice by the way,” you comment, as you gather your trash, “I might have to come back here. That is, if you don’t mind sharing your secret hide away with me for the next three months?”

Jamie chuckles, following you back to the front of the café. “Feel free.”

You smile at him softly, as you walk out the door, “Maybe, I’ll uh, see you around?”

He shrugs his shoulder, “Yeah, I’ll be around. Maybe you could catch a football match while you’re in town.”

“I’ll definitely keep that in mind,” you nod, “Well, thank you again for the rescue. I owe you one.”

“Nah, it was nothing. Get home safe, yeah?”

“You, too. Bye Jamie.”

He bids you farewell, before you two reluctantly turn and head in different directions. You wrinkle your nose, recapping your encounter in your head. What a random coincidence to run into an apparent famed football star on your first day in town. You wonder if you ever will run into him again, but you assume the odds of that are low.

Meanwhile, on his walk home, Jamie is questioning whether or not he should have asked for your number. In a strictly platonic sense, just to keep in touch or to be available in case you needed a friend while you were in town. But he brushes the thought away. Like a famous actress would want to willingly hang out with him if she wasn’t hiding from paparazzi. Yeah right. Odds are this was all a dream and the boys would laugh in his face if he brought it up tomorrow. 

Real or not real, he’d remember your morning together fondly. 

a/n: please let me know any and all those! again, so excited for this story and brand new journey for jamie x reader. also! i will be starting a fresh taglist for this story, so let me know if you’d like to be tagged. the distractions taglist will stay the same for any one shots i may continue to post in that universe. <3

taglist: @respondingtoshowerthoughts-blog​ @royalestrellas​

[bengiyo]

Only Friends: They Can't Sit With Me

I’ve been trying to find the words to express my consternation about Only Friends properly for weeks. Now that we’ve finished the show, I think I can say it plainly: The show just isn’t that deep, and the characters are unintentionally some of the worst gays you know. They can't sit with me and mine.

In so many ways this show avoided saying much for most of its runtime by just presenting the characters and putting them in situations. This would generally have been fine until the final episodes where the push to marry off the characters within their actor pairs coupled with the decision to punish Boston exclusively for any of the wrongs he had committed this season.

I hate feeling like I must defend Boston, because he was not a good friend to his squad. He introduced Top to their group just to fuck with Ray of all people for some reason. Then he got jealous when Top took a shine to Mew. He fired Ray at Top and Mew, and misrepresented a video he took of them to get Top to hook up with him one more time. (As a note, I also hold responsible for his decision to fuck around with Boston and withhold that information from Mew as well, but we’ll get there.) However, Boston is one of the only people in this show not using sex as leverage over the person he’s with or hounding people about putting out.

I hate that this show kept comparing other characters to Boston when Ray is fucking around with Sand while he’s seeing Mew. Top and Mew are playing their little stupid games about sex the whole time. Nick is pretending to be okay about stuff that he isn’t and using a sex tape as blackmail. Boston becomes the victim of blackmail and revenge porn in this show! Why is he the one who deserves to be punished for anything wrong that he did exclusively while everyone else is in “happy friend land” at the end of this show?

Also, what the fuck was the point of Boeing? They introduced Boeing as like a final boss but he revealed NOTHING about any of the characters, especially Top! Force did such a thankless and difficult job in this show only to get stuck in an enigmatic character that we can never get a secure read for. Boeing showed up and seemed like he was more of all of them, and we learned nothing because of his intrusion, and he gets rejected in the most perfunctory way possible as the final source of drama. Disappointing.

As I reflect on this show, I wish it had been episodic instead of a serial. The problem Only Friends has is that in the end it becomes a single story that took 12 weeks to tell. All this drama was so aggravating because these homos DO NOT have each other’s backs. Mew helps Boston out of a sticky situation just so he can be morally superior to Boston. Top helps Ray out of a situation and many of us thought that Top could have been the one who called the cops on the party! Cheum decides to castigate Ray AS HE’S BEING ARRESTED FOR DRUG POSSESSION. Cheum accuses Boston of assaulting her brother under false pretenses, never offers him a real apology, and then thinks that Boston should abase himself before the group at the end. If this show had been episodic, each episode could have been about a gay issue within this group and resolved itself within the episode while continuing larger arcs.

I feel like the angst between Boston and Mew went to waste. Why are they jealous of each other? Why didn’t they hate fuck? Mew is a virgin and Top was his first time. Why did we not unpack how Mew views himself after having sex for the first time? He had been holding out for so long and we never spend time with him really understanding how sex impacted him. Why wouldn’t he touch Ray at that point? Sure, he was never into Ray that way, but what is the core of his sexual preciousness?

This show spent the entire final episode taking a victory lap around Boston losing everything and celebrating these dysfunctional ass couples getting together, only to end on a scene of Mew being interested in Mix’s character as Top looks on worried. What a terrible place to end. We never understood Mew’s thing about sex and especially Top. We never understood Top. After dunking on Boston one final time, we end on Mew wanting to flirt with someone else? Terrible.

These people are still young, but this is not what community looks like. These characters are mean to each other in a way that makes me really worry about the shit that this queer team had suffered as they came of age and entered the scene. I believe in queer community. I believe in helping the people in our spaces even if I don’t like them personally. Even at their worst in Queer as Folk, those guys and gals had each other’s backs. Where was that energy here?

They are truly terrible friends. In so many ways, I was grossed out about the way a bunch of homos turned on the slut in their group only to end the show on a game of spin the fucking bottle where they made Sand make out with Top. It feels so weird that a group of queer people essentially ostracized one of their own for failure to conform with monogamous norms. NOT A SLAY.

Beyond that, I feel like most of the cast didn’t even get to play against type! Khaotung playing drunk so consistently was impressive, but he’s always been a pretty, rich, shit stirrer in most of his roles. First is always a grumpy simp. Book is always the virgin. Force got to be a jerk in a really fun way, but we never understood the interiority of his character. Mark and Neo got to do different stuff, and I really hope Neo gets an award for the way he fully embodied Boston.

I had a lot of hope for this show, but in the end, it will just be remembered as an amusing romp that fell flat in the back half for me. With that, I am done with Only Friends, and hoping to be done with GMMTV in a while, honestly. Between this, Hidden Agenda, Dangerous Romance, and a Boss and a Babe, I’m quite over it.

We wrote so much about this show trying to mine depth from it and the well was too shallow. It’s alright for us to admit that this show wasn’t that deep. We can admit that it was just a lot of fun for a few months. “This show is fun” (read: easy to fap to) and “This show is good” can form a Venn diagram, but that is not a circle. You gotta know when to fold ‘em.

[sorrowsofsilence]

Burning Out • VIII

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Fem!Reader

I was lost, but now I'm found Under the lights and in the sounds So let us sing and sing it loud That we're not perfect, but we're proud of who we are.

Noah Sebastian is lost. His crime-filled lifestyle is anything but perfect; but everything changes once he meets you.

Words: 5.4k

General Fanfic Warnings: 18+, explicit language, smut, alcohol, drugs, violence, mentions murder/suicide, panic attacks/anxiety, nightmares

Authors note: Chapter Eight - Fool Myself (EDITED: 09-03-24)

new? start from chapter one here

THIS IS A FANFICTION USING REAL PEOPLE IN A FICTIONAL SITUATION! I AM NOT IMPLYING THESE PEOPLE WOULD DO THE THINGS IN THE STORY OR ACT THE WAY THEY DO IN THE STORY, IN REAL LIFE! IT IS SIMPLY FICTION, AND JUST FOR FUN! THINK OF THEM AS ACTORS LOL.

+

Noah turned away from us, shaking his head. “It's none of your business.”

“It is my business now.” Nicholas stood up, positioning himself next to me in a protective manner.

I furrowed my brow and took a step back from Ruffilo. “Can someone please explain what's going on?”

A cynical smirk appeared on Ruffilo's face as he let out a quick laugh, scoffing at the brunette in front of him. “You didn't ask her where you really wanted to take her out, did you?”

Noah ran a hand over his face. “I was getting there.”

I looked between them again before turning my head towards Noah. “Where were you planning to take me?”

Noah licked his lips thoughtfully before turning to me. “I need your help.”

+++++

“Y/N hurry up!” Kiean yelled, his blonde curls bouncing underneath his black hood as he threw the canvas duffle bag towards me, placing his gun between his waistband. He ran behind the counter, typing on the keyboard of the desk computer frantically.

The alarms blared between the walls as I hastily tried to listen to the clicks of the safe, my heart racing as adrenaline rushed through me, my hands sweating beneath the leather gloves.

My breath quickened beneath the full white masquerade mask, the moisture building between the plastic and my skin, causing my chest to heave.

In a matter of minutes, the police would arrive and a shoot-out would begin.

‘k-12 to k-11’, Kean screamed over his walkie, my senses completely overloaded as the mixture of sounds rang through my ears.

‘k-11 to k-12, over.’

‘status of the doors?’

I looked away from the safe briefly towards the glass front doors, watching as the other masked figures held the rifles pointed towards the blocked exterior. I turned back as I anxiously flicked between the code, seconds being wasted the longer I failed to open it.

‘blocked.’ the voice responded.

‘hostages?’ Kiean asked.

‘detained.’

My gaze fell upon the huddled figures crouched on the ground, their bodies curled up in a defensive posture as they trembled with terror. A second group of armed men loomed over them, pressing the barrel of a rifle against the skin of a woman who fought back with her words, resulting in a deafening chorus of screams as one of the men fired his gun.

I closed my eyes, wishing to wake up from this nightmare.

But it was real.

“Is that fucking safe open yet?”

My blood ran cold as a shiver ran through my spine, the voice of my bad decision stopping my fingers mid-turn.

A gloved hand gripped the back of my neck and I looked up at the mask that mirrored my own, the only skin was his piercing green eyes that glared at me, filled with outrage. My lungs could no longer suck in oxygen as I gasped for a breath, desperate.

“You have ten fucking seconds to open that door, or I'll blow your brains out, you pathetic piece of shit.”

His fingers tightened around my neck, and I fought back tears as I watched in horror, trying to nod beneath his grip.

"Kade!" Kiean barked. "Leave her alone!"

Kade glared at me with disgust for a moment longer before releasing me, allowing me to gasp for air.

I used to be captivated by his green eyes.

+++++

Y/N

I perched on the edge of my bed, ending my phone call with my boss by blaming a bout of food poisoning. It was a classic excuse. I picked up the plastic mask and ran my fingers over the years of shame it represented, causing memories from my past to resurface in my mind. Noah was aware of some parts of my story, but not the whole reason why I had left my old life behind. Even though I knew he would most likely still accept me, I was too scared to tell him. The thought of sharing my full story with him made me anxious, and for now, I couldn't bring myself to do it.

I think I lost my mind Everything I knew came falling down Anything I build comes crashing down

I was trying to leave my old life behind…but I knew I was experienced enough to help him.

However, I knew that this was going to tie me right back to those I left. If I helped him, I would be stuck in the never-ending loop again. They would find me.

I'm pleading, "God, not now" Save me from my sins before I leave Free me from the weight so I can breathe

But for some reason, I was willing to do anything for Noah.

Why?

I was clearly fucking crazy.

The more I fool myself The more I feel it creeping in I think I lost my mind again

+++++

NOAH

Y/N and I agreed to go tonight.

I was scared to ask her, especially after Ruffilo confronted us. I did genuinely want to take her out on a date. I wanted to spend time with her.

But I did need her help.

I outlined the heist plan and to my surprise, she agreed without hesitation. The look on her face left me puzzled. I was anticipating some resistance, but she simply took a deep breath and seemed lost in thought for a moment before nodding and saying she needed to gather a few items.

Her reaction was peculiar; it almost seemed like she was struggling with conflicting thoughts. Was she torn between her morals, knowing that what we were doing was wrong? Or was there something else going on?

I quickly sent a text to Vincent informing him that I would meet him immediately after the heist to sell the drugs, around midnight.

“See you then, Sebastian. Same spot.”

Hope coursed through my veins as the plans fell perfectly into place. I quickly grabbed my backpack and gear before rushing up the stairs to Y/N's room. I knocked on the door as I pushed it open, revealing Y/N sitting with a party mask in her hands. It was a simple white plastic mask with a beautiful black masquerade design spiralling around the eyes. I studied her expression as she continued to stare at the mask, flipping it around in her hands. Something about it seemed familiar, but I couldn't quite place where I had seen it before.

“Do you want one of my masks?” I asked, sitting next to her on the mattress, assessing the plastic she traced her fingers with as if recalling a memory.

She took a shaky breath as she declined, turning to face me and giving me a curt smile, “This one works fine.”

I watched as Y/N’s shoulders began to shake in what I assumed was nervousness, and I placed a hand on hers that held the mask, “You don’t have to do this with me.”

She jumped lightly at my touch, leaving me confused before pulling away.

“I promised I would help you, Noah,” she said, getting up from her seat and grabbing her backpack.

Y/N pulled out a walkie-talkie from the bag, tossing one to me. I raised an eyebrow as I caught it, surprised to see such a high-tech radio in her possession.

“When did you get these?” I asked, almost laughing at the old-school equipment.

She shrugged nonchalantly, zipping up her backpack as she eyed me once more, “A long time ago. I'll give one to the boys too so we can stay connected. They can keep track of what's happening on the sidelines.”

I nodded as I placed the device in my cargo pants pocket. Y/N moved around the room, gathering various items before turning back to face me.

“Do you have extra clothes underneath your black outfit?” She asked with a serious expression that sent chills down my spine.

I turned my head to look at her, standing up from the bed, “No... should I?”

She nodded, raising an eyebrow as if it was obvious, “Yes, and grab another hat too.”

I gave her a curious look and followed her command, heading to the spare bedroom to grab some fresh clothes. Once we had everything we needed, we stood at the front door, ready to leave. Ruffilo was waiting for us by the stairs, his arms folded as he analyzed us before giving Y/N a tight hug and then turning to me.

"Stay safe out there. I'll be tracking you," he said with a nod, his concern evident in his gaze toward Y/N.

"Don't forget to keep your phone and my laptop on, with the password being Juice," Y/N reminded Nicholas, who nodded and gave her a thumbs up in response.

"Why?" I asked Y/N, surprised by their close relationship.

"You never know when you might need backup," she replied with a smile, but I could see the worry behind her eyes, which only heightened my own anxiety.

We exchanged nods before waving goodbye to Nicholas and leaving through the front door. The cool air hit my face, reminding me that this was happening - Y/N was coming with me. Was this truly a good idea?

We got into the van, with me in the driver's seat and Y/N in the passenger's seat.

"So," Y/N started as I pulled away from the curb and drove down the street, "I've never been to this pharmacy before and I have no idea how many cameras there are."

"Folio said there shouldn't be any inside since it's an old place, but there are probably two outside," I replied as I turned down the music in the car.

Y/N nodded in understanding, "Then we should park on Twelfth Ave so we're far enough away from any cameras near the pharmacy."

I hummed in agreement as I took a deep breath. Her knowledge and strategic thinking impressed me. "You seem to know what you're doing."

She briefly glanced at me before looking out the window, watching the city pass by. "I've seen enough movies."

I chuckled, my fingers tightening around the steering wheel. "I guess so."

We rode in silence for most of the trip, with soft music from the radio filling the void. As we approached Twelfth Ave, I parked on the side of the road.

"Ready?" I asked Y/N.

She hummed as she peered out the window, looking for cameras before giving me a nod.

“We’re good. Masks on before we get out.”

I laughed, cocking my head to the side, “Isn’t this my mission?”

She smiled at me, “Of course; but you asked for my help.”

“Touche,” I slipped the fabric over my head as I pulled my hood over. The car doors slammed shut and we began walking down the sidewalk, Y/N’s hands now governed with gloves.

“Walkie is set to channel 14?” She asked me, double-checking hers before clipping it to her belt.

“Yes,” I chuckled, reassuring her with a glance.

Y/N nodded, walking ahead of me quickly, “Ok. Before we hit the 13th street we need to check for more cameras, especially on the buildings across the street. Then scope out a place we can hide behind to change once we’re done.”

I blinked rapidly, surprised by her knowledge and instantly curious. I followed closely behind her, obeying her every command. As we reached 13th Ave, my eyes followed hers as she scanned the surrounding brick buildings, pointing out a camera across the street.

"That one has probably already seen us," she said, her voice hitching in her throat.

I instinctively pulled her back and turned her to face me. "What-"

"Let me finish," she cut me off, breathing heavily from behind her mask. "I need to call Nicholas."

The woman next to me dialled Ruffilo's number on her phone. Y/N grabbed my arm and led me to the side, between two buildings where we were sheltered by bricks.

"Hey, Ruffles," she whispered into the phone. "Yeah, everything's okay. I need your help with the cameras, can you get my laptop?"

I watched with curiosity as she spoke quietly into the phone.

"Log in to my computer and click on the blue app on my desktop, the one with an eye icon- yes- that one."

She glanced at me before looking down at the ground. "Password is Kade. K-A-D-E. All capitals."

Kade?

I felt my heart skip a beat at the mention of that name. Kade. Why did Y/N have a password with that name? And why did she seem so hesitant to say it out loud?

Y/N continued her hushed conversation with Nicholas, giving him instructions on how to access some kind of surveillance system. I tried to piece together what was happening, but my mind kept circling back to that name. Kade. It stirred something in my memory, but I couldn't quite place it.

Y/N held the phone closer to her ear, frantically beginning to pace, “OK, now I need you to type the address of Noah’s tracker into the box on the bottom. Grey box.”

My brows furrowed in confusion as I watched her actions. It was some serious spy-level stuff, and I couldn't understand how she knew about it or why she was doing it. It was making me question how well I actually knew Y/N. "Type in the IP address, including the zeros. Then click on the red icon that appears on the right."

“It’s asking for another password.” I could hear Nicholas on the other side of Y/N’s phone faintly.

“Try Kiean. K-I-E-A-N.”

“Nope.”

Y/N was silent for a moment, and I watched as her chest heaved beneath her black zip-up. She hesitated for a moment, as if the words were unable to escape her lips, “Try- try my name and the date 06-13.”

“Yeah, that worked. Now what?”

June 13?

I gazed into Y/N's eyes, trying to gauge her reaction behind her mask. Her eyelids were starting to glaze over with tears. "Okay, now click on the box that should have appeared," I instructed, my voice shaking slightly. "You'll need to enter this code... are you ready?"

I heard Nick hum and Y/N began spitting out random letters and numbers, “qqp;//0-0-0:879230/live.”

“Then put in Noah’s IP, and then continue with ‘.off/GO113MODULE=shutdown.”

What the fuck?

“Ok. That did something?”

“Did a timer pop up?” Y/N asked hastily, before eying me.

“Yeah- it says 7 minutes and it’s counting down.”

"Perfect. Thanks, Ruffles. Call me when two minutes are remaining.” Y/N hung up the phone before grabbing my arm and pulling me out of the ally towards the pharmacy.

“The cameras are down. We only have seven minutes to pull this off before the alarms alert the police.”

I had so many questions, but I could only stare at her in confusion and admiration.

We arrived at the pharmacy door, and I reached for my crowbar from its place on my back. I struggled for a moment, gritting my teeth as I pulled on the door.

Y/N mumbled, “Push instead of pulling. It's faster.” So I followed her instructions, and the door swung open within seconds.

“How did you know-”

But she paid no attention to my question and walked past me as the piercing sound of the alarm filled the street from inside the pharmacy. Adrenaline surged through me as we dove into action, quickly scanning shelves and frantically grabbing items to stuff into our extra backpacks. Heading towards the back of the store where the prescriptions were kept, I could feel my heart racing with every second that ticked by on the alarm clock.

Y/N followed my lead and quickly vaulted over the counter, squeezing herself between the tightly packed shelves. She scooped up different bottles and packets of pills, throwing them into her bag with practiced speed.

"You know what you're doing," I yelled over the blaring alarm, flinging bottles in every direction, trying to be as efficient as possible.

Y/N glanced at me but focused on her task, ignoring my question.

I leaned closer, grabbing her arm as she went for a bubble pack of pills. "How do you know all this from movies? The camera hack? What the hell?" I knew it was probably not the best time to interrogate her, but I couldn't help myself.

"Can you please shut up?" She seethed between gritted teeth, narrowing her eyes at me in frustration. "Right now, Noah, the cops could show up any minute. Focus on getting the money instead of worrying about me."

She snatched her arm away from my grip and moved to the other side of the counter, making her way to the cash register. I watched in amazement as she used a crowbar to pry open the drawer and gather the cash inside.

I shook my head in a mixture of disbelief and respect. Maybe taking Y/N along on this heist was a good idea after all.

Her phone rang and we both looked at each other, our eyes meeting through our masks. "Two minutes until the cameras turn on, we need to go!" She shouted over the blaring alarm.

I nodded in agreement before remembering one of the main reasons we were here: to grab her medication.

"Wait!" I called out, turning around. Diazepam, Adderall, Zolpidem.

My eyes scanned frantically through the shelves, searching for the specific medications. Adderall. Check. Diazepam. Check.

“Noah!” Y/N screamed, her arms raised as she stood at the door. The store alarm beeped in the background, accompanied by distant sirens that signalled their impending arrival.

“Wait- shit!” I bellowed, frantically searching through the last section. My gloved hand slid along the shelf as my heart raced with anticipation until I finally found what I was looking for: Zolpidem. Check. Y/N hovered near the door, her head swivelling between me and the outside world, peeking around the corner to see if any cops were approaching.

Snatching my bag from behind the counter, I stumbled slightly over the mess we had created but quickly caught myself. We sprinted out of the store and I grabbed Y/N’s arm, pulling her along with me.

My ears continued to ring as we ran and Y/N started pushing into me.

“Here,” she urged, pressing into my side as she led us down an alleyway further down the street.

“Take off your clothes,” she commanded with a heavy exhale, throwing her hood back and ripping off her mask as if it were a disgusting layer of skin.

“Can't it wait until we get home?” I tried to joke, but she glared at me without amusement given our current predicament. As my attempted smile faded, I barely registered the tears streaming down her cheeks as she took off her hoodie and pulled a pink one out of her bag. She threw on a pair of sweatpants over her shorts that were hidden beneath her jeans and knelt to put on a pair of white Converse.

I followed suit, quickly shedding my clothes before slipping into black and white shorts and a white hoodie. As I struggled to put on my vans, I hastily shoved everything back into my bag.

The sirens grew louder, the flashing lights bouncing off the surrounding buildings. We were filled with panic and as soon as Y/N was ready, I grabbed her hand and we ran down the alley together. I scanned the walls for a way out and my eyes landed on a ladder. I tugged at it to make sure it wouldn't collapse before starting to climb.

Y/N followed behind me and once we reached the top of the building, we paused for a moment to catch our breath. She watched me closely before I took off running again. The rocks and debris on the rooftop crunched under my feet as I sprinted, checking over my shoulder frequently to make sure Y/N was still with me and unharmed.

We reached the edge of the roof and surveyed our options. We were surrounded by tall buildings with no clear escape route. The wailing sirens from below urged us to make a decision quickly. My eyes landed on another nearby building with a ladder and ledge attached to it, but we would have to jump to reach it. It seemed risky, but it was our only option.

"Do you trust me?" I asked Y/N, catching my breath, as I looked into her mesmerizing E/C eyes illuminated by moonlight. She gave me a determined look and held out her hand in complete trust.

"Always," she whispered back, squeezing my hand firmly. Feeling reassured, I turned back to face the building ahead of us.

"Follow me," I said, giving her hand a final squeeze before letting go and preparing myself to jump.

With a deep breath, I leaped off the edge of the building, feeling the air rush past me before grabbing onto the ladder and pulling myself up. Once I was secure, I looked up at Y/N and gave her a thumbs up.

She hesitated for a moment, surveying the drop below us. But then she made up her mind and with determination, she followed my lead.

We cautiously made our way across the narrow ledge before reaching the end. I looked down and assessed our next move.

"Okay, we can swing off that pipe over there and onto the top of the dumpster. Then we run," I instructed Y/N, preparing myself for another jump.

She let out a small laugh, "Parkour?"

"Piece of cake," I matched her tone, trying to hide my nerves. "Just watch me." I took a deep breath and launched myself off the edge towards the pipe, landing safely on top of the dumpster. Y/N followed suit, laughing and out of breath but still determined to escape. We ran as fast as we could, adrenaline pumping through our veins as we fled from the approaching danger.

I gingerly walked across the narrow pipe, carefully distributing my weight and using my hands to maintain my balance as I made my way over the dumpster below. Once I was directly above it, I knelt and tested my grip before letting go of the pipe and dropping onto the plastic lid on top of the dumpster.

Y/N followed suit, but her fear showed as she hesitated while hanging onto the pipe with her eyes squeezed shut. "C'mon princess," I encouraged, "I'll catch you."

After a brief moment of consideration, she let go and I caught her in my arms, pulling her close to me. I held on for a moment longer than necessary, feeling grateful to have her by my side, but we still had a mission to complete.

We slid off the dumpster and landed on the cold pavement with a thud. Without hesitation, I grabbed Y/N's hand and we sprinted towards our getaway van. Adrenaline pulsed through my veins more powerfully than any caffeine rush ever could, making me feel truly alive with Y/N at my side.

As we reached the van and climbed inside, locking the doors behind us, we both sat silently catching our breath. My eyes flickered over to Y/N and she turned to face me with a wide grin plastered on her face.

"Damn," she exclaimed, "we did it."

I couldn't help but laugh along with her, feeling proud of what we had accomplished together.

"I can't believe that worked," I chuckled, my throat dry from exertion.

Our laughter died down and I turned to fully face her.

"Yeah..." She trailed off, her smile fading slightly as she seemed lost in thought.

"How did you-" I started to ask before she cut me off abruptly.

"I don't want to talk about it." Her response was curt and dismissive as she began to shut down once again now that the adrenaline had worn off. Her eyes remained fixed straight ahead and I watched her with confusion and concern, a million questions racing through my mind.

What was wrong? And how does she know so much?

As I started the car and gently revved the engine, I knew Y/N didn't want to talk about what had just happened. But I couldn't help but comment on her actions, "What you did back there was beyond impressive. Even I wouldn't have been able to do it."

Y/N remained silent, turning her body away from me.

"You've done this before," I stated with certainty.

Y/N's head snapped towards me, "Noah," she said my name angrily.

I licked my lips in annoyance, dropping the subject for now, "We need to visit someone before we head back."

She swallowed hard and nodded in silence.

As I drove, my mind raced with thoughts. Y/N clearly wasn't being truthful about her past. I recognized that mask from somewhere before. And I could tell by her skills that she must have pulled off some kind of heist before. Who was Kiean, anyway?

Thoughts consumed me until we finally reached the pier. I abruptly stopped the car near an alleyway and turned off the engine, grabbing my mask.

“Put your mask on,” I said, and she nodded, reaching into her bag. I watched as she placed the mask on top of her face and I followed with my own before we pulled the hoodies over our heads once again. I waited for Y/N to get out of the car, watching carefully as she closed the door.

I quickly grabbed her replacement meds from my bag, sliding them into the glovebox before grabbing both our backpacks. I slid out of the car, and walked next to her.

I leaned over, whispering, “Stay behind me, don’t say anything,” and Y/N nodded, trailing behind me as we walked down into the alleyway.

It was quiet, the only sound was our footsteps and distant traffic. I stopped Y/N with my arm before we walked any further down the cement, waiting.

Y/N breathed heavily, and seconds later we heard him.

“Sebastian!” Vincent’s voice boomed through the brick walls.

I cautiously kept my distance as he turned the corner, exposing himself. He walked towards us and flipped a coin between his fingers, tilting his head slightly as his eyes immediately latched onto Y/N. She stood behind me, almost hidden.

“a friend?” His voice raised slightly in question.

I instinctively held out my arm to shield Y/N from danger, but she pushed past me and stood by my side. Vincent immediately stopped flipping his coin when he saw her, a look of recognition in his eyes as he focused on the masked girl standing beside me. He seemed completely entranced by her, and I felt a pang of unease in my stomach at the way he stared. Y/N and I exchanged glances, both of us visibly shaken. A deep chuckle rumbled from Vincent's chest before he spoke, leaving me confused by his words.

“We live in a twilight world.”

Y/N stiffened beside me, silent for a moment before responding.

“And there are no friends at dusk.”

I turned to her, my mind racing in confusion. The tension between them was palpable, almost suffocating. It was clear that there was some sort of connection between them.

She recognized him. He recognized her.

But how? How could they know each other?

Then it hit me - the mask.

Vincent looked away from their eye contest first, the shine of his grillz radiating once he smiled at me.

“What do you have for me? Other than an oh-so-riveting friend.”

I brushed off his question about Y/N and swung my backpack off my shoulders. I unzipped it in front of him, exposing the numerous bottles of pills inside.

“Looks like quite a score,” Vincent chuckled, letting out a low whistle, “But I don't have enough money on me for all that.”

I tried to hide my disappointment, “Then what can I get you?”

“I brought the same amount as last time,” He gestured towards the bag, “Do you have any more Adderall? And maybe some zolpidem and diazepam?”

Don't worry, I'll be lost in echoes Be laughing on my own It's tragic, but it's the only life I know (Only life I know)

My breath caught in my throat as my eyes began to widen, and I stared at him.

“From whatever that name was- Y-N? Something?”

My body froze, immediately afraid to look in her direction. From my peripheral, I saw her remain perfectly still. Too still.

What should I do, what should I be? (I'm at a turning point right now) I'm so full of rage, too blind to see

“Uh- n-no.” I stammered, taking a step back as I avoided Y/N’s gaze,  “I have a few opioids.”

Vincent shrugged, smiling, “Ah sounds good.”

I looked at the bag as my hands began to shake.

“I’ll take those today for twenty-five hundred. But uh, bring the others next time. They sold great. I’ll offer thirty-five hundred,” Vincent said, reaching into the bag to assess some of the bottles.

I swallowed harshly as I nodded, “Yeah- I’ll get some of those.”

Vincent whipped out his testing kid, assessing each of the bags and bottles before pulling out the cash.

“Thanks for the transaction, Sebastian,” he said with a nod as he handed the bundle to me. He then turned to Y/N with a taunting smile and licked his lips before saying, "I'll see you at the beginning, friend."

Y/N nodded back at him before quickly turning away and heading towards the car.

As she walked away, I stole one last glance at Vincent who was watching curiously.

"Take care," I said in a conflicted tone before jogging after Y/N, who had disappeared from view in the alleyway.

She was already sitting in the car, her mask tossed onto the dashboard as she stared blankly at her lap.

I sat down in the driver's seat, too afraid to say anything when I saw how defeated she looked.

The words that escaped her lips sounded broken and strained. "I trusted you."

My heart pounding in agony as she fixated on her lap with disappointed eyes. I swallowed harshly, panicking. As my heart hammered the only question that left my mouth was Why.

I wanted to blame her as if it was her fault for trusting me. As if she’s the one who made me steal her drugs. Part of me wanted to grab her shoulders and shake some sense into her, my body fighting the urge to shame her for being so kind.

The more I fool myself The more I feel it creeping in I think I lost my mind again

“Why would you trust a criminal like me?”

As soon as the question left my lips I had sunk into the seat of the car, shame taking over. I was never meant to be the good guy.

The more I start to fall The more I don't see me at all I think I lost my mind again

Her eyes lowered, suddenly feeling small and unsure. "B-because?" She stuttered, "You're not a bad person, Noah."

But I am. It's my fault for taking advantage of her.

"Why did you do it?" She asked, still fixated on her hands.

"Why else?" My hands ran over my face in frustration, "I need the damn money. It's not like I do this for fun."

I keep seeing myself at the end of a yellow rose, consumed by guilt and regret. This feeling is unfamiliar to me, like a seed planted deep in my bones.

My soul turned its back on me as I burned bridges with my actions. Just another wasted human burdening this skin.

"I tried giving you other options - like the bar or a job at the cafe," she rambled, gesturing wildly as she explained.

"And I'm grateful," I reached out towards her arm, but she pulled away and pressed herself against the window defensively.

My hand fell back in shame, "but it's still not enough. It's hard to make money when it's just me doing these jobs."

"I understand that," she said, crossing her arms and hugging herself, "but I told you I would help."

And it pulls me further from the point that I belong And all you wanna do is take me, break me, hide me away Or you can shame me, blame me, burn me at the stake on a lie 'Cause my own mind wilts at the thought of being alive And that I'd like it if I tried

Whispering, she said, “You didn’t have to go behind my back. You could have just asked me.”

“I- the reason I did this specific robbery,” I explained, opening the glovebox in front of her to reveal the plastic bottles, “was to get your medications. That’s why I’ve been so distant.”

She looked at the orange bottles with a detached expression.

“I’ve been consumed by guilt ever since, barely able to even look at you,” my voice began to rise, “How messed up am I? To do something like that to you, knowing that those meds are supposed to help you?”

I shook my head in frustration and slammed the glovebox shut, causing Y/N to jump.

The more I fool myself The more I feel it creeping in I think I lost my mind again

“Y/N,” I whispered now, “I am so sorry I did this to you. I am so sorry I dragged you into this.”

The more I start to fall The more I don't see me at all I think I lost my mind again

Chapter 9

Tags: @crimson-calligraphyx @lma1986 @spicywhenspeaking @sammyjoeee @shilohrosechicken

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[alyona11]

Ok time for my big Hadestown hot take and that’s that West End Hadestown doesn’t give you a 100% Hadestown experience. It’s still ridiculously good and 100% worth seeing, don’t get me wrong (I used my opportunity and saw it twice and will likely see it again if I’m in London), but it kinda made me realise a couple of things about OBC production that will always be my Roman Empire and make me deeply upset Broadway is too greedy to give us an OBC proshot.

So, here are some of my thoughts and reflections based on seeing Hadestown live on West End + seeing different versions (including London National theatre proshot) in boots. I think you can pretty solidly say that in Hadestown there are 2 main stories: Orpheus/Eurydice and Hades/Persephone. And even though arguably Orphedice is the main most important story, it my opinion it also wins from Hadesphone story being strong. Which works perfectly in OBC due to Amber Gray and Patrick Page delivering a very deep nuanced performances as their characters.

I think part of the success of Hadestown when it works on its fullest is how it creates a very deep emotional journey. And I feel that regardless which pair of Orpheus and Eurydice you have (if we take Broadway/tour/West End take on the characters) it’ll still work! Like you need to try really hard to mess up orphedice the way people wouldn’t root for Orpheus or wouldn’t empathise with Eurydice because they are so relatable and cute. You instantly love them, they are so so lovable. So orphedice part is one thing in Hadestown that imo works if not always then in 99% of the cases.

Hades and Persephone’s part of the story in the contrary is VERY hard to nail on 100%, in my opinion, and this is literally driving me crazy. Maybe seeing Amber Gray and Patrick page in professional recording awoken some feelings in me, I don’t know. I will state straight away that I also do enjoy other actors’ takes on characters and I do see some very interesting character moments there and there. However, I keep returning to the thought that Amber/Patrick’s characterisation works SO WELL for the main narrative. I’ll try to explain why I think so. Consider it my love letter to the OBC.

First and foremost, I feel like Hadesphone story has a very fine dynamic that the actors have to nail, so you would feel that: 1) these two still love each other; 2) these two are buried under their problems and see no way out, only a miracle (aka Orpheus and his song) can save their marriage.

And if the first one usually works at least due to Epic 3, the second one, imo, often (at least partially) falls victim to acting/directing choices which can cause troubles with point 1 as well. I think one big thing I’ve noticed is that often Persephone’s alcoholism gets forgotten in the acting performance. Like yeah sure her choreography includes drinking from a flask but in comparison to Amber you never get a feeling that she is absolutely wasted. Which, is in my opinion something that you should feel when you’re watching the show and something I was constantly forgetting about when I was watching the show on West End. I feel in Amber’s performance you can constantly see that her Persephone’s feel good attitude is a façade of a broken person who knows that her marriage is going to hell in front of her eyes yet she is too passive and hopeless to try to make an active change (well, she does try in Chant and nothing happens), so her only way is to chase the sense of normality that the “medicine” gives her. But when she is alone, if you get to catch a moment when people are not looking at her, you can see a deep sadness under her positive front and her memory of the old days when everything was more simple. Nevertheless, the main point that the lyrics literally say is that Persephone is blinded by the river of wine. And this is crucial to her character and her relationship with Hades because the story states that even though Hades is a problem and he is an active actor in creating more problems, he is not the only failure in this relationship. Persephone needs to be woken up from her apathy almost as much as Hades does and this is something that we see during If It’s True.

From Hades’ side I feel like it’s not a good decision to make him a total villain because when he is irredeemable you don’t feel like the whole “song that will fix the world” has any chance of working long term. I think Patrick nailed a deep antagonist very well. His Hades is weird and lowkey creepy and alien. He does objectively bad things but when you look at him you can’t stop thinking that he doesn’t operate in regular human logic or morality. When I look at him in Chant, it feels to me that his words about building stuff to impress Persephone are absolutely sincere, and I can absolutely see that his Hades doesn’t understand why she is so upset about it when his intentions are so so clear. Maybe it’s my vision but even before Epic 3 when he is so far gone and buried in his projects and messed up ideas I don’t have a single doubt that Persephone is a single motivator and goal of Patrick Hades’ life and that he literally doesn’t need any other being to care about. And tragically this fixation is what makes him blind to all other things he does even if those things ruin Persephone’s life (and other people’s but tbh I don’t think he cares).

I feel like by removing Persephone’s Chant 2 verse Hadestown created more problems for Hades and Persephone part of the story making it a much harder job for the actors to prove to the audience that Hades and Persephone have a chance to make their relationship work. Like I get that maybe it was a necessary things to do (even though I think the show is much better with it) but it made it so much harder to empathise with this particular part of the story unless the actors use the choices that work in the narrative. Because for example when I was watching the show on West End part of me was wondering “what is Persephone’s deal in all of that, what does she win by staying with Hades?” With the verse, and with Broadway Previews or London 2018 in particular this part was clear: Persephone still loves Hades and believes that he has the opportunity to change and become a better man he used to be. Without the verse, however, the actors should give you the same idea during the show which is a hard task considering Hades and Persephone have only 2 big conversations together (Chant and How Long). So apart from those songs there are only subtle mostly silent moments they get together through which the actors have to convey the same thought which is hella difficult and probably hardly will be appreciated by anyone apart from the people who sit closely.

So, maybe because in the actor combo I saw (Zachary and Lauren), I got a feeling that even though they were great separately, I didn’t feel much chemistry between them as a pair. I think, Persephone seemed pissed and tired of Hades all the time until How Long and I didn’t feel that she still believes in his willingness to change. And Zach Hades despite being entertaining, kinda gives the impression of Hades who has other options, he is not into Persephone enough. The only sparkle appears between the two in Epic III which is still cute but I’m not sure if it works just as well if that’s the first time you see the show? Also considering Zach Hades gives more malicious intent in His Kiss, The Riot it seems that he is not even slightly interested in Orpheus having any opportunity to succeed with his quest. Which is not bad, don’t get me wrong! But in comparison to Patrick who is deeply self projecting into Orpheus to the point where you could see that even though he doesn’t want to let him go, part of him does because it would prove he too could succeed in his challenge of waiting for Persephone, this take seems a bit lacking. And overall because of His Kiss, their promise in Wait For Me doesn’t seem as giving much hope that the story won’t repeat itself next Sunday. Which in its turn makes Orpheus’ sacrifice feel a bit… worthless. If on Broadway, when Orpheus turns, but spring comes again you feel like it is the start of something new: hopefully a kinder and softer time. On West End the show also wants you to feel it but when you think about Hades and Persephone you feel…less certainty that this sacrifice will have a long term effect?

I guess the creators wanted to concentrate on Orpheus and Eurydice more and forget about Hades and Persephone by making them more secondary story or maybe there was a lack of director’s involvement to give the cast some hints on how to make this particular part of the story work better, but it feels to me that in its current state the show works in its 85% power which is still great but once you know there is something missing you can’t stop thinking about it and wishing the show would give you those 15% you crave.