#movie or tv show. if done right then I think either could work for him

[chatdomestique]

So when are we gonna get an Incredibles Frozone spin-off?

[glitterinmyveinss]

Hey er ive never done requests before and I don’t really know how to work tumblr at all so I hope I’m doing this right but anyways I saw your post about wanting someone to request Reese Wilkerson stuff and I just wanted to ask if you could make a post just for headcannons about him? I haven’t seen too many on here and I need them so bad 😭

ofc i can! tysm for requesting and ik a lot of other people sent requests for reese too n i'll get to them soon it's just i have an irl crush rn so the delusions aren't really delusioning apologies <3

Reese Wilkerson Hc's

ok i noticed that in the halloween episode in season 7 i believe he's wearing a misfits shirt !! so i think he would like punk, grunge, pop punk, and nu metal. like misfits, descendants, nirvana, limp bizkit, blink 182, sum 41, sublime, beastie boys, really anything punk related

definitely watches wwe and if you're over you're watching it too

he loves watching his favorite scary movies w you and he loves how you like them too!

if you don't like scary movies he dosent mind either bc that just means you'll be hiding in his arms the whole time so he wins either way

i feel like when he first met you he definitely played a prank on you to get your attention or just annoyed you but once you sorted that all out, you join him on his pranks and he swears he's never liked a girl more

if you're smarter than him and you offer to tutor him he'll only do it under one condition: he gets a kiss everytime he gets something right

might be self projecting but he's def a boob guy.

everyone has this image of him as some psycho tough guy but play with his hair and he'll just melt. especially if you have acrylic nails! his head will be in your lap while you guys are watching tv n you'll be playing with his hair and he'll be as quiet as a mouse and malcolm will just be like "how did you do that."

loves it when you borrow his clothes. especially his hoodies. it just does something to him

tbh i feel like he could go for someone with either a more edgier look ( think avril lavigne or bill kaulitz) or someone with the girly 2000s look ( think britney spears or any of the playboy bunny girls )

once you guys have an established relationship he'll spend all his time with you! at first he wasn't sure if it was ok but now that he knows you really like him he's so happy!

i don't think he's big on pda i think hand holding is as far as hell go but i don't think he minds if you kiss him on the cheek

but once you guys are alone omg

cant keep his hands off you!

he's either super horny or super cuddly no in between

you and him always get stuck babysitting jamie and he'll be doing the most normal thing like putting jamie's shoe on or feeding him and youre just stuck staring at him bc he looks so cute!

dates usually consist of movie marathons, him cooking something for you guys, concerts, theater trips, or something really spontaneous like taking a trip to another city just bc you guys were bored.

walks you to all of your classes <3

malcom n dewey really like you and think you keep reese sane

ties your shoes

if you guys have a class together he's always doodling in your notebook whether it's something cute or raunchy

i think he struggles with self image so he needs a lot of reassurance

if you have pets he somehow has an immediate bond with them. they just love him!

he try's really hard to remember things you like for future gifts/dates

i feel like he gives oddly specific compliments, but he has good intentions

"you smell like a slutty fairy"

"is that supposed to be a good thing?"

"duh."

the same way he secretly loves watching soap operas with his mom, is the same way he loves watching all of your shows. like the oc, dawsons creek, whatever you're into!

he would give the best and most thoughtful homemade gifts. tb to when he gave lois little jars of jam! he'd probally do something similar but according to your taste <3

gets jealous easily

it's hot/ cute tho

memorized all your favorite pastries/baked goods n makes them for you when he's feeling nice/ as an apology if he messes up

[discokicks]

EYE TO EYE (FOR AN EYE) - ROY KENT.

(series masterlist!) (AO3!) (series playlist!)

PART FIVE OF ACES AT THE WATER'S EDGE.

pairing: roy kent x fem!reader (no use of y/n!)

summary: well, you've been parent trapped. forced to talk about things you swore you'd never speak of again, you and roy sit down for a chat to appease your fellow coaching staff. meanwhile, in 2012, the english men's team have lost, and you and roy have a chat that leaves you on an... unforeseen note.

word count & rating: 10.2k, R (we're heating up but we ain't there yet)

chapter warnings: swearing, allusions to sa and harassment, some sexual innuedoes, majorly charged eye contact and tension-filled pauses (these fucks are damaged and yearning), WHOLE LOT of dialogue i apologize there's a lot to talk about

author's note: well hello. for those of you familiar with the show victorious, i've been affectionately calling this chapter the 'take a hint' chapter since i outlined this series. there's also a fuck ton of dialogue in this one and can read like a shitty script sometimes, so apologies on that front. sorry this one took a minute, got stuck with it then got busy. hope you enjoy, love you tons! -mags

PRESENT DAY, MID-AUGUST, 2023.

There are approximately four straight minutes of uninterrupted silence between you and Roy before either of you say a word.

The first minute, you believe, is just the two of you actually processing that this is happening. You’d heard the jokes about Richmond being a family, about work-life lines being crossed, about true professionalism being thrown out the window at the sake of having better, stronger connections with your team. However, you never imagined that something like this was on the horizon.

The next minute is spent unpacking the reality of it all. You were here with someone you’d previously sworn to never speak to again, expected to talk about something you swore you’d never speak about again. And it was to be done against your will, at a random pub in Richmond, with your two coaches watching you through binoculars through a window like it was a Three Stooges movie.

The next, you realize exactly what it is you two are expected to talk about. Your Stooge coaches want you to have the conversation-- the conversation you swore to yourself you’d never, ever have with Roy. They want you to just talk about it, like it’s simple. As if it’s some silly little dispute you had eight years ago, not one that could take days to fully get through (and frankly, should probably have some sort of third party involved. You’re not suggesting a version of couples therapy but you’re not not suggesting it). Nothing about this is simple. Nothing about this can be solved in just one conversation. But, you figure, if Roy’s suddenly game to start to get into it, you suppose you should be too.

That leads you to the final minute, which is spent attempting to find the right way to start this conversation, because, truly, how the fuck do you even start a conversation like this? While you and Roy were never inclined to beat around the bush, this is different. It's so, unbelievably different and you don't know how you're supposed to do this. Especially not now.

Throughout this time, you’ve glanced over at Roy periodically, who you think may physically hurt himself with how hard he’s trying to avoid eye contact with you. He’s focused on the TV at the bar broadcasting the highlights from the Richmond-Chelsea game. He’s staring at the bar top. He’s looking up at the ceiling. Anywhere but you and at anyone but you.

After those four minutes, you feel the tension in the air shift. It may just be your frustration at both him and this situation, it might be his own, but you suddenly can’t take it anymore. And to your surprise (and Roy’s, for that matter), you manage to get out the first word. 

“So,” you say lamely, trying your best not to cringe as it lands. “Uh…”

Roy glances over at you, expecting something else to follow. When nothing does, and he sees your mouth open and close, he huffs a laugh. “I bet you’re happy you signed with Richmond now, huh?”

You place your elbows on the bartop, face falling into your hands. “This is actually insane,” you say, words muffled by your palms. “I hated West Ham, but at least Shelley wasn’t Parent Trap-ing his assistant coaches.” You raise your head to look at Mae as she places two pints in front of you and Roy. “Thank you.”

Mae nods at the both of you, eyes narrowing at Roy as she notices his silence. “The offer for double the pay is still on the table,” he tells her.

“Richmond can’t win this year if their coaching staff is fighting like cats and dogs,” Mae replies. “Your money is as useless as your arguing here.”

The bluntness of her statement has you chuckling despite yourself. As Mae walks away from a now scowling Roy, you take a sip of your drink. Then another. Then another.

When you feel Roy’s gaze on you, you turn to look at him. “What? If we’re gonna talk about this, I can’t be sober.”

“We’re not talking about it,” is his immediate response, and he makes sure to keep his voice low, eyes shifting to where Mae is at the other end of the bar. 

Relief rushes through you at the idea that he seems to be on the same avoidance wave. You want to have this conversation even less than he probably does. However…

“They’re watching us,” you say, throwing your thumb in the direction of the window. “If we’re just sitting here in silence, they’re never gonna let this go.” You glance over your shoulder at your fellow coaches watching you. “And something about Beard gives me the vibe that he’s like, really good at reading lips.”

A familiar growl of annoyance escapes him. “Then we’re going to keep our backs turned and pretend that we’re talking to get those fucking muppets off our backs and get on with our fucking lives.”

Your lips purse. "What are the odds I get you to chug this with me?”

Roy huffs into his glass. “About the same as the odds of it coming right back up because of my new fucking acid reflux.”

Your nose scrunches up in a weary sort of agreement. “Ugh. Fair. Where’d that shit come from anyway? It sucks.”

“We’re fucking old, Fourteen,” he mutters. “That’s where it came from. We’re far from what we used to be.”

“Yeah, but you were ancient when I met you,” you reply, earning a deep scowl in return. “I used to be so young and full of life.”

“If by ‘full of life’ you mean doing boat races in a shitty pub in London with a bunch of degenerate athletes—”

“Oh, my God. Grandad. The kids got off your lawn in 2012, stop bitching,” you say as you bite back a laugh. When Roy rolls his eyes, you point at him. “And by the way, I vaguely remember you joining us in one of those boat races, so I don’t want to hear it from you.”

Roy scoffs. “I did it to shut Rivera up,” he replies, shaking his head. “Terrible fucking influence.”

A fond smile grows on your lips at the mention of your friend, remembering the state she’d been in that night. It was the night you’d won the Gold at the Olympics, and Mel had taken it upon herself to peer pressure your entire team not just to go out, but to start at a pub and start the celebration with that godforsaken game. To this day, you’re still not sure if she remembered leaving the pub.

“She’s the worst,” you agree, though your tone says differently.

A beat passes between you, a question hanging in the air as if Roy’s unsure if he should ask it. If he’s allowed or entitled to know the answer. He asks it anyway. “Where did she end up?”

You answer after you swallow the sip of beer you’d taken. “She and Paige are somewhere in Surrey. And I’m still trying to figure out the geography of this place, but I know that it’s kind of close to here, which is nice. They’re supposed to come for our first home game with their son.”

“Fucking crazy that they’ve got a kid,” Roy says. “I remember when she was making a fucking fool of herself in front of that girl.”

“You’re telling me,” you grin. “Luckily it worked. It helped that Paige was in love with her the entire time.”

That comment is met with silence as Roy seems to only be able to offer a nod in response. The following quiet is less awkward, but everything still hangs in the air. It weighs down the space that stands between you two and makes your chest ache. You don’t know how to continue. You don’t know what to say.

You feared this exact situation with him. Just the two of you, sitting in a room with each other, running out of talking points. No team to comment on, no coaches to add input, nothing left to expand on. Only the memories of your past and a million unspoken paths to go down— ones you had no interest in uncovering.

The TV in front of you transitions to Zava’s press conference, and suddenly, thankfully, you’ve got another thing to talk about. “You’ve never said your opinion on Zava.”

Roy’s brow pinches. “What’s there to say? He’s fucking good. He’ll help us be better. I didn’t think he’d go for us but I’m happy he did.”

“Yeah, I figured that,” you say with the roll of your eyes. “I’m asking for your opinion. Not Coach Kent’s PR response.”

He takes a brief pause, then scowls and looks down at the bar top. “I think he’s a self-involved, strange little prick. I think the shit he does and wears fucking odd, and I think the hero-worship our team’s got for him is going to be a problem.” Roy shrugs. “But he’ll help us win games.”

You find yourself nodding along. “Do you think we actually need him?”

Roy’s gaze slides to yours in interest. “I take it you don’t?”

A sigh escapes your lips as you turn your body slightly to face him. “I think he’ll help us win,” you agree, putting your chin in your hand as you look up at Zava (who’s holding a Richmond jersey with a smile) on TV. “But I’m afraid he’ll mess up the team dynamic.”

“How so?” he asks.

“Well, I’m assuming all future plays are going to be made around him,” you say. “Pass to Zava, get it to Zava, put Zava in a position to score. You guys have never done that before. You’ve never just focused on making everything work around one person.”

Roy’s eyes narrow. “We’ve done it with Tartt.”

“You’ve made plays for Jamie. But you’ve never relied on Jamie to be your focal point in every play of every game,” you explain. The intrigue on Roy’s face is something you haven’t seen in a minute. You continue, “Jamie’s your best player. Every team needs to have their best player. But that’s why, I think, Richmond works. Because you’re a team. You’ve got Sam, you’ve got Isaac, you’ve got Dani— everyone’s good at what they do and they know how to fill their role to work together.” You shrug and reach for your pint. “That’s how you’ve won in the past. I just think it’s dangerous to have the team play around someone else instead of playing as a team. I don’t think it’s sustainable.”

These points of yours are met with a quiet that tells you he’s considering your words. Not so much evaluating as he’s just… taking them in. It feels good to be heard. Not to be dismissed or waved off, told that your input would be considered as it had been for the last three months. 

You’re not sure if Roy’s going to respond to any of your points until he says, “Stop saying ‘you have.’”

You blink at him, not expecting that at all. “What?”

“You keep saying ‘you’ve.’ ‘You guys.’ ‘You’re.’ You’re distancing yourself from the team.” He shakes his head. “You’re a part of this now too. Richmond’s yours as much as it’s mine.”

“Oh,” you say. A strange mix of embarrassment and pride wash over you. “I didn’t realize I was doing that.”

Roy sighs. “You should have said something if that’s how you felt.”

“And what? Ruin the fun of the Zava train? Potentially be the reason we don’t pick up one of the best players in the league?” You scoff. “Pass. I don’t have the seniority to make a move like that.”

“You still should have said something,” Roy presses. “Ted would have listened. We would have listened.”  

“It doesn’t matter. It’s done now.” You wave him off, shrugging. “He’s with us and I’m sure he’s going to be great and help us win. I’m just being weird about it.” Roy looks as though he has about a million things to say to that, but he chooses to bite his tongue instead. At his silence, you add, “Be nice to Jamie if he asks for extra training.”

The scoff that leaves his lips is loud. “I’m as nice to Tartt as he deserves.”

“I’m serious,” you say through a chuckle. “Don’t shut him down if he asks. He needs someone in his corner.”

“And it can’t be you?” he asks.

It’s an innocent enough question, asked with a bit of levity and a teasing glance. But it makes your stomach churn. The memories of West Ham, the sessions you did, Tom’s new comments, everything— and it all hurts. You’re not sure if it’ll ever stop hurting.

Any trace of humor drained from your face and in an instant, Roy knows he said something wrong. Stupid, he thinks. Fucking stupid. You’d gone quiet when he last asked you about this. He should have known better. Watched his words more carefully.

“No,” you reply softly. You take a long sip. “I’d prefer that it wouldn’t be me.”

Well, now Roy feels like an asshole. Once again, he wants to ask. He wants to understand exactly what happened, understand who or what has affected you like this. He has his assumptions (ones that go into dark places he never even wants to consider for you— seriously, he’d fucking kill someone and wouldn’t blink), but if you can’t or won’t talk about it, he’s not entitled to know. He’s not entitled to know anything. Your relationship’s never worked like that, even when you were on good terms. There was no pressure, it all always seemed to come out when you were comfortable. It had never been like that before. That’s originally what drew him to you. That’s why he stuck around.

Roy knows if you do decide to talk about it, it’ll be on your terms. And while he doesn’t like it, he respects it. He respects you.

It’s why he chooses to move on to some other topic instead of pressing you. “Whatever they say about your press conference,” he begins, shaking his head, “fucking ignore it.”

It’s a clunky transition and it catches you slightly off-guard. The leap has you suspicious that Roy might know more than he lets on about your situation, but you don’t dare say anything about it. “They?” you ask.

“The media,” he expands. “The football fans. The pricks online. They.” He shakes his head again. “They don’t fucking matter. If they knew any better than you did, they’d be where you are.”

They’re kind words filled with a rough reassurance that he’s mastered. To hopefully get rid of (or procrastinate) the heavy feeling in your chest, you wave him off. “I’m used to it,” you say. Roy frowns at you and you shrug, “I commentated a little bit for ESPN after I got hurt. I did one Men’s game and made a joke about how much you guys overreact when you get fouled to get a call. Twitter ate me alive. I still get threats about it.”

Roy inhales ruefully, humor written across his expression. “What’d you say?”

“Nothing I haven’t said to you a hundred times,” you reply casually, hearing him huff once more. “I think it was something about how you guys have to be getting paid extra by the Club if you promise to make a scene when you’re hit.”

“You weren’t far off," he chuckles.

“And I still stand by it,” you tell him, leaning in as his lips pull into a small grin. “Though I’m not sure I should be talking to you about playing up a penalty.”

Roy’s brows rocket up. “The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that i’m sitting next to the only person in AFC history to ever get two red cards in a game,” you reply, and the instantaneous scowl that forms on his face makes you chuckle. “I don’t think there’s been a question about if you’ve ever actually hit someone.”

“Those calls were bullshit,” he mutters.

“Roy, you tackled Man City’s best midfielder and took out both of his legs. And then you kicked a different guy in the chest.”

“He ran into my foot.”

“There is literal video footage of you looking him in the eye and saying, ‘that wasn’t an accident, I kicked you in the fucking chest.’”

He stares at you for a moment, then shrugs. “At least I broke a record.” 

You nod at him. “And we’re all incredibly proud of you.”

That smile of his returns and you can tell he has to refrain from rolling his eyes. “You weren’t so fucking innocent out there either.”

A faux affronted sound leaves you. “I was an angel.”

“Right,” he draws out. “You never got into it with anyone, Mean Fourteen.”

Your nose crinkles. “I liked it better when you hated that name as much as I did.”

“It’s grown on me. Mainly because it’s right.” When your frown gets deeper, he continues. “Even before the Cup at those Olympics. You were fucking tough out there. They could never get you to stay down.”

You rub your finger against the rim of your glass as you glance at the the highlights of the recent Arsenal game on screen. “Damn right. Got tackled into oblivion by Caroline Singer at the 2012 Semi-Finals. Launched me ten yards and dislocated my shoulder. Got up the second after and had my shoulder set in time for overtime.”

Roy chuckles lowly. “I remember that game. You hit a full fucking Locust in the air when she sent you flying,” he says. “You deserved that one. You were a fucking menace to her all game.”

You gape at him. “I deserved that?”

“You did. If I’m Singer and I’m being marked by someone like you during that game? I’m breaking your fucking jaw.”

While you scowl at the idea that you ‘deserved’ that, you find yourself having caught something much more interesting. “Also, rewind. Full Locust?” you ask with a leading sort of intrigue. “Like… the yoga pose?”

Roy’s hiding in his pint again, trying his best at indifference. “Is that what that is?”

But you know him better. A wide, disbelieving grin pulls at your lips. “Roy Kent, do you do yoga?”

“No,” he immediately replies, but you’re already laughing.

“Oh, my God. You so do yoga.”

The scowl on his face is deep. “Fuck off,” he says. “What the fuck is wrong with yoga?”

“There’s nothing wrong with it,” you respond, laughter dying down despite the smile that remains on your face. “I love yoga. I just never imagined you’d agree.”

“Well, I fucking do.” There’s a beat, and for a moment, you think he’s going to end it there. But then, “I do it once a week with some local mums in their sixties.”

Your mouth begins to part as you stare at him, grin widening. Your laughter starts back up in an instant. “This is the best day of my life.”

(Roy can’t exactly understand what compelled him to admit that, or why he’s indulging in this conversation with you, but there’s a small, suppressed piece of his brain that knows he did it to hear you laugh some more.)

“I have—” you pause to breathe. “—so many questions.”

Roy’s hand shoots up as Mae passes by to ask for another round. “No, you don’t.”

“How did this… come to be?”

He’s scowling, but chooses to answer with, “I was newly retired and borderline suicidal. I found their flier and called Maureen instead of the hotline.”

Your elbow’s now perched on the bartop, chin resting in your hand to stare at him in awe. “Is this, like, at a gym? Is it at one of their houses?” You gasp. “Do you host yoga?”

Roy looks as though he’s regretted every decision that’s led him to this moment. “We alternate weekly,” he mutters. 

“Shut up. Tell me you guys hang out after. Like you grab drinks or do a book club or something.”

His hand goes up once more in Mae’s direction. “Yeah, gonna make that two, Mae.”

“Shut up,” you repeat. You don’t think you could be smiling any harder. “Do you drink rosé and read Colleen Hoover?”

“No,” he says, pointing at you like you should know better. When your brows go up, he shrugs. “We drink rosé and watch Lust Conquers All like respectable fucking adults.”

You do the math in your head and gasp again. “Does that mean you watched Jamie’s season?”

Roy’s lips twitch upward. “Yeah. Watched him be a proper fucking twat,” he says, then glances over at you in curiosity. “Didn’t realize you got that over in the States.”

“Jamie’s season was when it started getting popular there,” you reply with a shrug. “All my friends were in love with him.”

Roy’s brows shoot up. “Not you?”

A snort escapes you, and you shake your head. “Uh, no. ‘The island’s top scorer, sexually’ wasn’t exactly my speed.” Roy’s smile grows at your poor impression of Jamie. “But they were into it. They freaked out when they realized I’d be working with him.”

“Not your speed,” Roy repeats, taking a long sip of his pint. His interest appears to be piqued. “And what speed is that?”

You can feel the heat rising to your cheeks, and you try to play it off with a roll of your eyes. “You know what my type is.”

That smile of his stretches into something more resemblant of a smirk. “It’s been eight fucking years,” he replies, feigning innocence. “Types change.”

“I guess you’re right,” you say, fully ready to play along and be just as much of an annoying jerk as he’s being to you.“Right now, I’m regressing to my French swimmer phase. Going pretty well, actually.”

“Oh, is that right?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you answer, biting back a grin. “Actually been talking with Luca for the last couple of weeks. It’s like we never left London.”

It’s Roy’s turn to roll his eyes, but it’s only half directed at you. “He was a fucking prick,” he says. 

“He was not a prick,” you reply. “You just didn’t like him.” Your eyes narrow, turning to face him with that same sort of feigned innocence he had. “Remind me why you didn’t like him again.”

“Because he was a fucking prick,” he repeats. “Fucking twat wouldn’t even watch your games. Couldn’t handle you winning something when he wasn’t.”

The scoff that escapes you is loud. “I forgot about that,” you mutter. “He was a prick, wasn’t he?”

“Fuck yeah, he was.”

You shake your head, raising your glass to take a small sip. “Whatever. Wasn’t like I ended up spending much time with him anyway.”

Roy’s lips quirk up into that same smirk, but there’s more behind it. “No, you didn’t.”

Warmth rises to your cheeks at that, and you continue to hide in your glass. Asshole.

Luckily, Roy seems to have more to say on the topic of Luca. “He was never your speed,” he tells you. It’s a matter-of-fact musing. “He wasn’t in your fucking race.”

You spare a glance in his direction. “No?”

“Absolutely fucking not,” he says as if he can’t believe you even had to ask. “You were riding light years ahead of him. He couldn’t keep up.” With a soft scoff, he adds, “Not many people can.”

That warm feeling returns and it spreads down your neck. You suddenly feel yourself getting shy. “Maybe I should slow down,” you attempt to joke.

Roy’s shaking his head before you can even finish your sentence. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

You don’t mean to do it. It’s completely unconscious, almost like an instinct. But you ignore the way that that makes your entire body go ablaze and look at him. You hold his gaze for a long while, longer than you have since you started at Richmond. And he stares right back at you. 

It’s hauntingly familiar and paradoxically comfortable. You don’t know if he meant to say that or if it just slipped out in the moment, but there’s something about the way he’s looking at you. Even if he didn’t mean to let something like that out with that sort of sentiment, he’s owning it. It warms your heart and makes your stomach flip upside down.

It’s so fucking confusing. But then again, this entire thing has been confusing. You had been sitting here for just about a half an hour, and half of those minutes were spent going back and forth in the way that you used to. You didn’t think it’d be so easy to fall back into that with him. To talk to him like that again. To banter with him. Even to fucking laugh with him.

That realization makes you feel as though you’ve been dunked in a pool of cold water and allows a weird, foreign feeling to settle in your chest. You’re angry at yourself and at him for slipping back into it so effortlessly. You hate how easy it is and always has been with him. But you also miss it. You’ve missed this. You missed him.

It’s an absolutely horrendous, life-altering realization and it slants your world sideways. You despise yourself for it. It’s something you force deep down into yourself, hoping it dies a quick and painless death, but you know that it won’t be the case. Not if he’s still around. And not if you two continue like this.

Luckily, for both of you, the television at the pub chirps out a loud noise as a penalty is called for the game on-screen. You two snap out of it, promptly tuning in to distract yourselves from whatever the fuck that was. Old habits were easy to fall into. They were dangerous. You couldn’t wait to pretend like that never happened.

However, something still lingers. Something sits upon your tongue as you watch the scene unfold on-screen, as the medical and physio team run out to help the injured Arsenal player who’s clutching at his knee. You can’t explain your motive and you don’t completely understand why you feel the need to keep this conversation going, but you want to extend that same kindness to him, with something you’ve been holding back for years. So you do.

“I almost called you,” you tell him. He glances over at you, brows raised in question. “The game you got hurt. I was watching. And I sat on my couch for two hours trying to figure out if I should call you.”

Roy blinks, absorbing this, then turns away. He swallows thickly before bringing his glass to his lips. “Glad you didn’t.”

It stings. Like, really stings. You nod, trying not to show just how much, but your voice still comes out dejected. “Oh,” you say. “Right.”

Roy sighs at your tone. “No, it—” He wipes a hand down his face and the pint in his other lands on the bartop with a thud. “If you’d called that night, it just… It would have… complicated a lot of fucking things for me. And I might have—” There’s a brief moment where he meets your gaze, but he quickly drops it. “I don’t know what I would have done.”

“Oh,” you repeat, but it’s quieter. Your focus is drawn to your glass. “Right.”

That dreaded silence returns and it’s unlike anything you’ve experienced with him. What did he mean? What would he have done? What would you have complicated for him? The way he speaks gives you a pretty decent idea of how drastic his actions would have been, but you can’t figure out what he means. 

Would he have lashed out at you? Would he have wanted to see you? Would he have even picked up the phone if you had called? What did he mean?

You have millions of questions you’re too scared to ask, and you bite your tongue for fear of actually speaking them aloud. Roy doesn’t seem to like this and really doesn’t seem to like your answer, or lack there of (but truly, what exactly were you supposed to say to something like that?). You’re not sure if he thinks he upset you or made you uncomfortable, but when he speaks again, he’s taken on a bit of a softer tone.

“Just so we’re clear,” he begins. “I’m… happy you’re here.” He says it slowly, as if he’s testing out each word. “I’m happy you joined Richmond despite… well, fucking everything.”

You swallow hard, awkwardly shrugging. “I didn’t have a lot of other options.”

He gives you a look that tells you to stop being a smartass. You know it well.

“I’m happy you’re here,” he repeats, more sure this time. “I’m happy to see you again. But it…” Roy trails off, eyes locked on the bar top. “It’s fucking… strange. It’s strange to be here with you after I swore you off for the rest of my life.”

“Yeah,” you agree. “It is.”   

“And I— I’m trying to be better at this,” he continues, still refusing to look at you. “Talk like this with someone. Be fucking open, or whatever. So, this is me being open.”

It takes him a minute to collect his thoughts, and you give it to him. 

He scratches at the inside of his wrist. “All of my past… relationships were…” He trails off like he can’t find the right word.

“Fleeting?” you try, earning a glare in response. “Transactional?”

That look in his eye doesn’t falter. “I’m trying to be open here, for fuck’s sake,” he grits, though the slight whine in his voice makes you chuckle. However, before you can apologize, he sighs. “But, for lack of a better fucking word, yeah. That. Nobody stuck around and there was no… love lost or-- fucking whatever. And if it did end poorly, I didn’t have to worry about seeing them. I could ignore them or get a fucking drink thrown in my face and it’d be… done. It’d be over.” Roy shakes his head and takes a long sip of his beer. “I didn’t have to be around them, I didn’t have to see them, and I certainly didn’t have to fucking work with them.”

There’s a beat between you. It’s brief, but it gives you time to absorb this, and for him to take a breath. He shuts his eyes for a moment, and when he opens them again, he’s looking at you. It’s a gaze that’s warmer than before, but there’s still that distress there. The confusion. Sadness.

He continues, “I really thought I was never going to see you again. And I had, I don’t know, fucking resigned myself to that idea? I’d come to terms with it. So, being here?” That’s when he decides to meet your eyes. “I don’t know what the fuck to do. I don’t know how to act around you. Not when I’m still so… fucking angry with you. Not when you’re so angry with me. I’ve never done anything like this—” He motions between you two. “—and I don’t know how the fuck to do it.” 

It’s a lot to take in, but you do so while nodding slowly. He doesn’t know how to do this? He doesn’t know how to act around you? This is confusing for him? 

It wasn’t a contest, but you’d argue that, given everything, you were in the worse position. You were joining his team, a team he’d clearly nested into and made a life for himself in. You had been forced to ignore everything he’d done to you for the sake of your career because you truly had nowhere else to go. How the hell did he think that you were or would be doing any better than he was? Did he really think you were dealing with this in a healthier, more stable way?

After you’ve collected your thoughts, you ask, “You think that this is easy for me? I’m fucking drowning here, Roy.” Your voice is gentle, and almost immediately, you can see the tension in his body resolve into something more open. “I think we’re the first people ever on earth to be put in this fucked situation. It’s like some sick psychology experiment.” 

“Sad fucking excuses for lab rats we are,” he mutters. There’s a hint of a smile on his lips. “What does it say about us that we agreed to it?”

“It says we’re masochists, Kent,” you say, and that smile grows as he shakes his head. You motion to the window where Beard and Ted still stand, taking turns with the binoculars every so often to check in on the two of you. “Who else would just go along with shit like this?”

Roy turns to the window. “Fuck. I forgot they were out there,” he mutters in disbelief.

You salute to Beard and his binoculars and he pulls them down to nod at you in response. “We’re sick, sick people who’d rather be uncomfortable than give this sport up.”

Roy huffs a laugh. “Cheers to that.” 

He tilts his pint to yours and it feels like a peace offering. It’s like you’re finally on the same page about something for once. When you clink your glass against his and sip with him, it ratifies that agreement. You bite back a smile.

“But there’s some truth in that, I guess,” you continue. Roy’s brow pinches. “I couldn’t give this up. I would rather be uncomfortable with this than let go of this opportunity. Because, I…” You take in a deep breath, scoffing softly as you release it. “I really thought I blew it. I thought my career was over after West Ham fired me. I didn’t think anyone was going to want the girl who couldn’t even last three months at an AFC club.” You can feel yourself getting choked up and you blink away the telltale burning in your eyes. “And then out of the blue, like a fucking miracle, Rebecca’s at my door asking me to join Richmond. So… yeah, Roy. This is so fucking weird. And you’re right, I’m still mad at you. I don’t know if I can ever forgive you for what you did. And I don’t expect you to ever forgive me.

“But this… this job, West Ham… I couldn’t allow my career to end like that,” you say, and your chest starts to tighten again. Fuck, was it always going to be this hard to talk about this? “You were right when you told me I couldn’t let them take what I love away from me.” Your voice is quieter when you say, “I can’t allow someone to dictate my career for me. Not again.”

You see Roy’s eyes close out of the corner of your own. His head bows ever so slightly and as he mutters, “Yeah. That shouldn’t happen again.”

Now you feel like the asshole. You know it’s deserved, but the somber, regretful note in his voice makes your perpetual guilt complex rear its head. You’re getting emotional whiplash from the highs and lows of this conversation and you wonder how much time has really passed by. You can’t tell if it’s been twenty minutes or an hour. 

But, however long it’s been, you think it’s a miracle that you’ve been able to get to this point with such little time.

“I’m not…” The words get caught in your throat and then escape like a sigh. “...ready to talk about what happened yet. I don’t know when I’ll be able to, but it’s certainly not now. I… It’s too hard to, I don’t know, look at you and talk about that.” You look wearily over in his direction. “And I don’t think— I can’t be your friend,” you tell him softly, watching as he bows his head. “Or be whatever our coworkers want us to be. I’m not… I don’t think I can do that yet. And I think you feel the same.”

There’s a long, pregnant silence, one that drags out and makes everything between you two feel heightened. Then, Roy nods. “Yeah,” he says. “Not yet.”

You figured as such. It’s almost reassuring to know that you’re at the same point. However, after this conversation, after sitting here with him, forgetting about everything for just a moment to laugh and joke around with him for the first time in years, you’re comfortable enough to say your next words.

With a deep breath, you tell him, ”But, whatever comes before friends. Whatever that is, I’m willing to give it a shot.”

Roy’s eyes meet yours. He lets that statement sit with him, absorbing it, then stares at you with an intensity that makes your stomach flip. It’s as if he wasn’t expecting you to say that and can’t believe that you did. 

You’re not sure if it’s a good or a bad thing until he clears his throat and says, “You are?”

It’s something soft and sincere, asked with an uncharacteristic hesitance. “Yes,” you say. “Are you?”

You’re sure you’re imagining it, but you swore you could have seen the beginnings of a smile twisting at his lips. “Yeah,” he replies. “I’d really fucking like that.”

Unconsciously, you feel yourself copying the smile you’re positive was an illusion. “Good,” you say gently, turning back to face the TV above the bar. “Would have been really awkward if you’d said no.”

Roy’s laugh is one of surprise. “God-fucking-forbid things were awkward between us.”

“I’m just saying,” you insist with a shrug. “I wouldn’t have known what to say if you’d said no. Finish my beer in silence and just get up and go. Hand in my two weeks and head back to America.”

“Leaving two teams in under a month would have been a league record,” he notes, lips quirking as you narrow your eyes at him. “And don’t act like you wouldn’t have stayed just to spite me.”

“You’re right,” you agree almost immediately. “I’m much more vindictive than that.”

It’s then that Roy grins at you, and the look in his eye sends you right back to 2012. “Damn fucking right you are.”

You toe the line between hatred and acceptance as a familiar warmth spreads across your chest and makes a home there.

This, you know, will be impossible to shake.

LONDON OLYMPICS, EARLY AUGUST, 2012.

so sorry to see you boys lose, says the text you send to Roy after their penalty-kicks loss against South Korea. devastating way to go out. not sure if this is a bad time, but i do believe there was a standing deal that whoever lasted longer in the tournament got whatever they wanted from the other?

It’s a rather brutal text, especially after a loss like that, but you don’t care. He was so sure that your team was going to be knocked out before he was. It felt good to be better than him at something for once.

You’re sitting in your Olympic dorm room, perfectly happy to be alone for the night. After your win against New Zealand last night, you’d spent the night celebrating (or what constituted for celebrating in the Village, which was just staying up with your girls and watching bad British made-for-TV movies) and had not had a minute to yourself since. You were unfortunately a person who needed their alone time and having a career as time-consuming as soccer made it virtually impossible to not have people around you at all times.

Mel was out for the night, having gone upstairs to find Paige (the UK women’s team had lost in a gnarly game against Canada last night), taking advantage of the circumstances to ‘comfort’ her. Or, whatever Mel constituted as comfort.

(“She just so sad,” Mel had said, lacing up her shoes. “I told her I’d come up and cheer her up.”

“And how exactly are you doing that?” you asked skeptically from your bed. “You have horrendous bedside manner.”

“I’m going to figure out a way. I hate seeing her sad,” Mel said innocently. “Do you think restaurants deliver here? Maybe I can get her something to eat.”

You scoffed. “Yeah, she’s gonna be eating something, alright—”

You’re cut off by a memory foam slide slipper being chucked straight at your head.)

There was no way Paige didn’t see through her or what she was doing. However, it helped that everyone could see that she was totally into Mel, and you were thankful that your best friend’s mega crush wasn’t unrequited. Extremely thankful. Mel did not take rejection well.

Speaking of rejection, you think, as you feel your phone vibrate on your chest. The text from Roy stares at you from your phone screen and you can practically hear his words as you read them.

That was the deal if one of us won the tournament, he tells you. You’ve still got two games to go, Yank.

It’s the type of response you expected, but you’re unsure of the validity of his claim. i recall that deal differently.

His reply is lightning quick. Of course, you do. Your memory’s as shit as your jokes.

someone’s sounding bitter, you answer. i can hear you pouting all the way from chelsea. 

You don’t get a response for a moment, and for a minute, there’s a small part of you that thinks you actually may have pissed him off. There’s no way that he’d get upset about something like that, would he? You know how much he cares about football, but the Games are mostly just… fun. For the men’s side, at least. It means leagues more to the women.

However, before you can get too in your head about it, your phone starts ringing in your hand, Roy’s name popping up on your screen. You press your lips together to keep yourself from smiling too hard.

“Hello?” you say, the humor in your voice evident.

“I don’t fucking pout,” is his greeting, which earns him a soft chuckle.

“The fact that you’re calling me to whine isn’t making for a compelling argument,” you reply. 

“You know,” he begins, and the sudden accusatory inflection in his voice has you pushing your lips together again, “you’re being really fucking mean to someone who’s got the power to run you until you pass out tomorrow.”

You roll your eyes. “Oh, I’m terrified. Tell me, are you going to be breathing down my neck now that you’ve got nothing to do?”

“Thin fucking ice, Fourteen,” he warns, but you swear you can hear his smile. “One more fucking word and I’ll replay footwork day.”

That has your mouth shutting almost immediately. “Okay, now you’re actually scaring me.”

It’s then that Roy laughs, and the sound sends a rush through you. It’s such a rare occurrence that every time you hear it, it feels like an accomplishment. 

“I’m sorry you lost,” you finally say. “That was a tough game to watch.”

“Tough fucking game to play,” he replies through a sigh. “We shouldn’t have let it get to that point.”

You tilt your head back against the pillows stacked up behind you, attempting to get comfortable on your horribly uncomfortable, tiny bed. “If it makes you feel any better, I thought you played well.”

There’s an uneven beat of quiet and the line crackles. “Yeah?” he asks. His voice is calmer and slightly warmer. You’re not expecting it. 

“Yeah,” you say. “You had a couple of good shifts in the second half. That last pass you sent up the field would have been an insane assist if Lowell didn’t miss.”

You hear him sigh. “That wasn’t Lowell’s fault. That sweeper was a problem for all of us.”

“Didn’t say it was his fault. We all miss,” you state. “I’m just saying if it had worked out. That would have been crazy.”

“It would have been,” he finally agrees, which you know is the closest you’re going to get to him complimenting himself. “You play Monday, right?”

“Yup. Canada. I’m supposed to be in charge of taking care of Caroline Singer which should be, y’know, a joy.”

Roy snorts. “She’ll start swinging at you before the half.”

“That’s the goal. I’ve been told to piss her off as much as I can.” Before he has the chance to make the layup joke you’ve just handed him, you beat him to it. “Which shouldn’t be too hard.”

“I’ve seen her play,” he says. “She doesn’t do well when she’s flustered. You’ve got a talent for getting in people’s heads. We can work more on that tomorrow.”

You grin. “So, no footwork?”

His voice is a low growl with a lilt of a chuckle. “Don’t push it.”

There’s a moment that passes between you two where you know you’re both smiling, sitting on the phone in your respective make-shift Olympic homes (one, much nicer than the other, you’re sure), knowing that this conversation is probably over for the night, but finding that you don’t want to hang up. It’s an odd, giddy sort of feeling, one you haven’t felt in years. You never expected to feel it again here, of all places, with fucking Roy Kent, of all people.

You don’t know exactly what possesses you to ask, but the question floats out of your mouth before you can stop it. “Are you really going to stay in London to train me until we’re out of the tournament?”

It was something he’d implied during your practices and once joked about, but he’d said it enough to make you think he was serious. When you’d once questioned him about it, he’d said something along the lines of making sure he saw through his investment or wanted to see your deal through. He’d called himself a man of his word, which you also had questioned, but again, it felt like he was incredibly serious about this. 

His answer catches you off-guard, but you suppose you shouldn’t have expected anything less.. “I thought you were winning the fucking thing.”

An abrupt laugh leaves your lips. “Roy.”

He sighs again and then replies with something more in-line with what he’d said previously. “I made a deal with you. We’re seeing this fucking thing through.” There’s a noise on his line that sounds as though he’s shifting. “And besides, you’ve got what? Two games left if you make it to the Gold round?”

“When we make it,” you correct.

You’re nearly positive that he rolls his eyes. But, he says, “I’m sticking around.”

The sentiment of it all fills you with a warmth that travels down your body. You’re still not sure what this is. You’re not sure why he’s doing this. You don’t completely understand why he seems to like you, why he’s sticking around to train you, or why he chose to train you in the first place. Everything about this is so out of left field and nothing about it makes sense. You couldn’t have predicted this if you’d tried.

There’s nothing about this situation that you completely understand, but you know one thing: you’re starting to become grateful it did.

You don’t question him. You don’t ask the things that are swirling around in your head, and you don’t verbalize anything you’ve started to feel the last couple of days. Instead, you just say, “Well. I suppose if you insist.”

He makes a low sound, something that you may think is a laugh of disbelief. He’s quiet for a second as if he’s going to say more, but he clears his throat instead. “I’ll let you get to bed.”

There’s a brief moment where disappointment swells in your chest, but you quickly shake it off with a silent scolding. “Yeah,” you agree. “Probably a good idea to be asleep when Mel gets back.”

“Back?” Roy questions. “Where’s Rivera?”

“Consoling Paige,” you say, air quotes implied. Roy huffs. “She’s consistent if nothing else.”

“She’s fucking relentless is what she is. I’ve never seen someone pine so hard for someone who clearly fucking likes them.”

You shrug, but then realize he can’t see that. “Mel’s not the make-a-move type. She’s more of a let-me-stare-at-you-and-telepathically-tell-you-I’m-in-love-with-you type. Which I get. But it’s still frustrating.”

There’s a beat between you, one that has you raising a brow. “You're not the first-move type, huh?”

Blood rushes to your ears and it spreads down your neck. His tone is leading, and it sets off every siren in your brain. “No,” you get out, and thankfully it’s more casual than you thought it’d be. “Never been my thing.”

“Huh,” Roy muses. “Good to know.”

Your stomach churns in anxious anticipation, once again not completely sure what he means by that. You’ve got an idea, but Jesus, he loves to be vague. You would have never pegged him to be coy.

Before you can respond, he’s speaking again, and you can hear the smile in his voice. “Goodnight, Fourteen. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He then hangs up on you, leaving you stunned with your phone in your hand, mouth slightly ajar, and the best kind of nerves coursing through your body. 

You can’t help but laugh at it all.

PRESENT DAY. (MID-AUGUST, 2023)

You awake to your phone ringing on your bedside table next to you. It’s a call that’s earlier than your alarm, one that has you throwing your arm to the table, slapping your hand around blindly to find it. 

Once it’s in your possession, you crack your eyes open to see Mel’s name on the screen. Your interest is piqued enough to answer. “Hello?”

Your greeting comes out as more of a groan, but you think Mel gets the message. Either that, or she doesn’t care. Because she leads with, “You want to tell me why I’m getting Twitter updates about you and The Dark Lord hanging out at a bar like it’s 2012?”

You open your eyes, squinting at the sun that’s peaking through your window. “Roy and I are relevant enough to be getting Twitter updates?”

“After that press conference you gave? Uh, yeah. You’re a bit of a celebrity to the football side of Twitter,” Mel says, sounding only slightly incredulous that that’s what you choose to respond with. “You’re relevant enough to have people spamming this picture someone took of you two last night.”

You hum. “How do I look?”

Mel scoffs. “You look incredible. The Dark One looks scary.”

“Scary how?”

“Well, he’s smiling for one, which is always a jumpscare,” she says. “And you’re smiling back at him which is even more horrifying. So, you know, just a scary photo all around.”

A huff of a laugh escapes you, and you put your arm over your eyes. “You wouldn’t believe why we were there if I told you.”

“It better be some fucking Twilight Zone, cosmic occurrence, because that’s the only explanation I’ll accept as to why you’re laughing with each other.”

“Will you take Coaches Ted Lasso and Beard Parent-Trapping and holding Roy and I hostage until we talked out our issues?” you offer.

You’re met with approximately thirty seconds of silence before Mel responds. You can picture the perplexed look on her face as she asks, “Do they understand the depth of your issues? And that trapping you at a bar without a neutral third party and law enforcement present is an outlandish and potentially fatal situation?” 

“We were actually very civil,” you reply casually. “Found out he does yoga now. Watches Love Conquers All.”

“Hmm,” Mel hums. “Does he do that before or after his day job of kicking puppies and burning down orphanages?”

The laugh that escapes you is involuntary. “Mel,” you whine.

“I’m glad you’re laughing. Because I’m certainly not,” she says, and the tone of her voice tells you you’re about to receive the scolding she clearly called to give you. “Because it sounds like you’re back on the Kent Train and I’m going to have to pick you up when he inevitably fucks you over again.”

“I’m not ‘back on the Kent Train’ or whatever the hell you just said,” you mutter, turning to lay on your pillow. “You knew that working at Richmond meant us working together. I knew that. Our coaching staff is insane, but they have a point. We can’t work well together if we’re fighting and not getting along.”

Mel scoffs. “You can work with people you don’t like. It’s called being professional. The only thing you have to be on the same page about is the team.”

“Richmond isn’t like that,” you tell her. “It’s unlike anywhere I’ve ever played or worked. These people are a family. And not in like, a corporate ‘we’re a family here’ way. They all really care about each other and spend Christmas together and do karaoke together. It’s actually really sweet.”

“And what? You’re scared they’re not going to accept you if you don’t join the cult and sing kumbaya?”

You shut your eyes in frustration at her words. “No, Melanie,” you say, and the edge to your voice has her scoffing again. “It’s not about joining the cult. It’s about the fact that I refuse to lose another job. Especially not this job. I can’t imagine any other club being as warm and accommodating as they’ve been. And frankly, no other club wanted me after the shit show that was West Ham.” Mel’s gone quiet and you exhale in resignation. “So, yeah. If that means I have to be friendly with Roy and sing their song, then fucking… hand me the guitar, I guess.”

Once again, Mel’s quiet. You think she’s hung up on you until you remove your phone from your ear and see the call time’s still running. It takes a moment, but she finally, finally releases a long and heavy sigh that lets you know she’s back on your side. “I just don’t want to see him hurt you again.”

“He won’t,” you say without hesitation. “I won’t allow him to. I’m never…” You shake your head. “I’m never going back to that. We’re colleagues. Nothing more, nothing less.”

You can hear her shake her head against her phone. “I really wish I believed that.”

“I mean it,” you insist. “You have full permission to kick my ass if anything else happens.”

Finally, you get something like a laugh from the other line. “Gleefully holding you to that.”

“I know you are.”

“Haven’t kicked your ass since 2015,” Mel says, sounding almost rueful. “I miss it. You’ve ignited a fire in me and it’s burning.”

“Does Paige know about your thirst for violence?” you ask. “I can’t imagine she wants Oliver exposed to that.”

Mel scoffs. “Not only does she know but he knows. I passed it on to the little fucker,” she mutters. You note the hint of pride in her voice. “Speaking of Roy, Oliver’s finally old enough for the baby leagues and he pulled a very Kent versus Man City move in his first game. Scuffed up the poor kid’s leg and everything.”

You snicker and roll on your back, eyes cast up to the ceiling. “I cannot possibly imagine my sweet baby boy doing anything of the sort. It must have been someone else,” you tell her. Then, you chuckle again. “Roy and I actually just talked about that game. He still refuses to admit that he did anything wrong.”

“Glad to see nothing’s changed on that end.”

You suppress a smile, but your voice comes out as a warning. “Mel…”

“Hey, you can be nice to him all you want,” she replies. “Never said anything about me having to.”

Fair enough. You know that this is the best your going to get from her, so you let it slide. “You’re still coming to the game this week, right?”

“Recent events have given me second thoughts—” Her response is cut short by your groaning, and you hear her sigh on the other end. “Of course, I’ll be there. Wouldn’t miss your first home game for the world. Or any home game for that matter,” she says. “I do draw the line at away games, though. Don’t love you enough to drive that much.”

“Understandable. And we’re still on for dinner after?”

“If you’re paying. That AFC coaching salary better join us at the table.”

You roll your eyes. “Good to know where your priorities lie.”

“I’m joking,” she says, but the way that the volume of her voice increases tells you that she’s not saying that for you, but for her wife, who must be in the room. When she speaks again, it’s much lower. “I’m not joking.”

“Oh, I know,” you respond. “Tell Paige I say hi.”

“I’ll do it when it’s less suspicious.”

You grin, shaking your head. “I’ll see you on Saturday, asshole.”

“See you then,” she says. However, before you can hang up, you hear her voice calling your name once more. When you put your phone back up to your ear, she says, “Please. Please be careful. I mean it.”

Her soft worry holds a certain weight that makes your eyes screw shut. “I will. I promise.”

“Okay,” Mel replies, a little more certain. “I love you, kid.”

“Love you too,” you say. “See you Saturday.”

And with that, you hang up on your best friend, letting your phone fall onto your chest with a strikingly heavy thump, letting each and every one of her words sit with you as you pretend that the new pain in your chest doesn’t exist.

The next morning, Ted Lasso gets to the Richmond Coaching Offices early. 

He’s even earlier than you, something of which has proven to be a difficult feat, as you’re typically stationed at your desk reviewing film before anyone else has even considered coffee or put on a shin guard.

But today, he’s done it. He has no idea when you’re going to be in, but to be on the safe side, he figures he should be quick. The wrapped book is carefully grasped in his hand, making sure not to fold or crease the bow he tied around it as he opens the door to your and Roy’s office.

It’s only when the book is placed on your desk that he realizes he forgot to write the message he’d planned on the outside of the wrapping paper. His face scrunches up as he scans your desk for a pen or some other writing utensil, but comes up empty. 

He then turns to Roy’s desk, hoping to find something there. Sliding over, he gives the tabletop a once over, frowning as he realizes Roy’s got nothing too. It’s then that Ted remembers something.

Roy kept pens and dry-erase markers in his top drawer. Ted only knows this because three days ago, he saw Roy pull one out to chuck at Jamie as he barged into your shared office unannounced. He figures he can let that one slide if Roy forgives him for going into his desk.

Ted pulls the drawer out to find Roy’s neatly organized stash of utensils, grinning as he picks up a pen. However, before he can shut the drawer, something catches his eye.

There’s a frame shoved into the back, showcasing a photo Ted had seen from afar on Roy’s desk a million times but had never looked at close up. It’s of Roy, who’s wearing the closest thing to a smile that Ted’s seen on him, his sister, and… you.

You’re positioned in the middle, grinning from ear to ear with your arms tight around both Roy's and his sister’s shoulders. It’s an older picture, one taken at the high-top table of a bar. Both you and Roy are younger, and while Ted can’t figure out the exact time period of which this was taken, something else catches his eye.

It’s something small, probably something that would seem insignificant if he didn’t know you two. It’s your hands. While your arms are draped around Roy and his sister, his hand is covering yours.

It’s something that could be considered friendly, but Ted gets the feeling it’s not. It’s only then that Ted feels as though he’s looking at something he shouldn’t and closes the drawer.

With the pen he was looking for in hand, he returns to the book he’s left for you and scribbles down the message he wanted.

No— I must keep my own style and go on in my own way. —Jane Austen.

He only hopes Persuasion isn’t too on the nose for your situation as he slips out your office door and into his own.

TAGLIST: @dark-academia-slut @tegan8314 , @csigeoblue , @confessionsofatotaldramaslut , @thatonedogwithablog , @hawkeyeharrington , @jamieolivia27 , @seatbacksandtraytables , @luvr-bunnyy

[vidavalor]

I've had to disconnect from my dash because of all the negativity; I honestly do not get why people are acting like a semblance of justice+a movie is the worst thing in the world?

I'm mourning for the full six-episode season we lost because ng couldn't pass the utmost basic sub-zero bar for not acting like scum and of course I wish amazon had kicked him out and then sprung for it anyway (and honestly, as long as you're blaming the right person, I think it's fine to feel upset? We deserved better, the cast and crew deserved, Terry deserved better, and this one guy ruins it for everyone because the bar was buried six feet deep beneath the ground and he still managed to go lower, and that does suck, and it is miserable and unfair, so take a moment if you need it 🤷‍♀️) but let's face it, we got off lucky. Arguably, considering this was a standalone novel from the nineties, that then got made, in one of the best book adaptations I've ever seen, into a limited standalone tv miniseries (and, again, emphasising the standalone here, so even if it all goes to hell in a handbasket, we'll still always have S1 and the book; people have been ignoring the Jurassic Park sequels for nearly three decades), and then got a surprise sequel, we were pretty lucky the whole way through.

And regarding the whole what if it's bad thing, I was always going to be worried: I was anxious long before this shit went down, and I was anxious before S2 and even S1, as well. It's not like we ever had any guarantee it was going to be good beforehand either, and at this point, knowing what we do now, I'm not at all sure I'd have trusted ng to write this anyways. So while, yeah sure, I'm maybe a little more anxious now, I trust Michael and David with these characters and I trust Rob and Rhianna with Terry's legacy and story and that they wouldn't have fought so hard for this ending unless they planned to keep fighting and thought they could pull it off. Isn't the problem with this kind of thing normally that what happnes is the creator who cares deeply about the work gets pulled in favour of someone out-of-touch who cares not a jot about the story and needs to leave their own grubby fingerprints all over it? More the other way around here, no?

Anyway, what I also wanted to say was that I really appreciated your 'think of it as the final two episodes of season two' (and all your takes on this situation so far, very level-headed and optimistic, thank you). I mean, you're right, and it's hardly wildly out-there for a series to finish on a feature-length special, and although the filler material in S2 and the compression of S3 maybe means it doesn't exactly resemble what the second book would have been, it was only ever meant to be two books. (Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed S2 and was very glad to get it, even though I am a book/S1 fan and also had the most fun in that time fandom pre/post/around the time of the S1 release, but why does it exist? Ego? You can't tell me you couldn't have fit the important parts of S2 into one season with the S3 plotline.)

Basically, I'm grieving the could-have-beens (imagine if he'd been exposed way earlier and the TP estate had had control of this whole production from the very start!) and I'm a little worried that that hurt'll stick around no matter how good S3 is - which I need to fix, because that's more power over my favourite show and what it means to me that I want to give anyone, let alone someone like that - but at the end of day, I do think it definitely can be done with what we have, and I'm choosing to be hopeful it'll be done well, because, well, why wouldn't I?

(I will say this hasn't been great for my faith in humanity, because I really want to believe not all men are shit and some of them are making it very difficult right now, but that's an entirely different problem and so far believing most people are mostly good has always prevailed in the end so. y'know. we'll get there. might reread discworld, that's always good for that.)

Sorry for venting all this at you! I just kinda felt the need to write it all down once to get it off my chest... have a snack on me? I'm partial to cherry tomatoes, green melon and mandarines at the moment (I stop eating salads in winter, which means I default to eating even more fruit) but I can also offer homemade baked goodies fresh from this morning? 🥧

Hi there. 💕 You are welcome to vent away & thank you for the delicious-sounding snacks and kind words. I'm glad my posts on the movie boosted your spirits about it. I agree with and can relate to almost everything that you said here so assume that anything that I don't address just has a 'yes, absolutely' nod happening. 🙂‍↕️

The one thing I want to touch on here is S2 and this idea of it being "filler" that you mentioned that I think might not be quite accurate. I think you (and anyone else who reads this) might feel more enthused about the idea of a good ending in 90 minutes after reading this so hopefully this'll be another way that I can help?

On why S2 is really the whole story and actually had a lot more going on in every way than S1...

Ok, I'm going to explain something that drives writers like myself bonkers 😂 and that is how some readers or viewers of fictional stories mix up plot and story.

Nothing grinds our gears than reading things like "filler" and "unnecessary subplots" because, while everyone is within their rights to have an opinion on written works, 95% of the time, the person who says phrases like this isn't talking about the quality of the work but of its very existence. They're saying "why did we have to read/watch this? it didn't connect to anything" and that's where they are very, very, very... argh, just tell them, Crowley...

...thank you, dear. Right, so, why is it wrong?

Because what many people who don't write don't understand about subplots and more character-driven story arcs is that the writers sat down and decided to do that stuff for very, very specific story reasons. Readers and viewers mistake plot for story. Plot only exists in service of story and, so, all plots exist for a purpose in the story. They're all relevant. In fact, the stuff people usually label as "filler" in a story is really exactly where they should be looking to figure out what the story is saying. If you're big mad about all this time you spent with Maggie and Nina in S2, I'd say you might not still understand what S2 was about because you won't understand Aziraphale's story without understanding both Maggie and Nina's struggles in S2, for example.

A story is the whole, overall thing. It's the meanings, themes, and messages in the work. It's what's being said. It's the ideas being put forth by the piece. It's what it's about. It's different from plot, which is just the stuff the writers are making the characters do or not do in order to tell the story that they are looking to tell. Story is the art; plot is a tool used to make that art. Fiction writers can come at their story from almost anywhere to convey what it is that they are trying to say so there is meaning in the fact that they are choosing to tell their stories the way that they are telling them. They came up with these ideas for reasons.

When you dismiss stuff as filler, you're saying that it's lesser than more in-your-face and bigger plots (when, often, it's very much not), and you're telling a writer how they should have written their own story-- most of the time, without even fully seeing the ending of that story or giving any consideration to why it is that the writer wanted you to read or watch the stuff you're saying wasn't necessary. I'm not arguing that every story is perfect but you aren't getting anywhere near close to being able to evaluate a story if you're not willing to dive into what you were given and consider why it was that you were given those things and what they might mean.

Until the main question that you're asking about every single aspect of a story is "what is this saying?", you're not really fully engaging with a work. You won't get there by dismissing what the artists are telling you is important.

The secret sauce to interpreting fiction are subplots, actually. They exist to help highlight the themes of the main story, often in a slightly more direct way. If you want to understand Good Omens, starting with Ineffable Bureaucracy is actually one of the best ways to get at the core of the themes of the story. It's far from wasted time in the story.

There's actually a funny nod to the importance of subplots in 1941 when Aziraphale references Sophocles, the playwright who basically created the concept of the supporting character whose story mirrors and parallels the main character(s). The mention of Sophocles shows up in S2, the season that brings Gabriel more fully into his purpose as exactly that.

The reason why S2's plot is centered around the honestly pretty easily solvable mystery as to what's happened to Gabriel is because Gabriel, from the get-go, has been the entire story distilled down.

If you follow nothing but Ineffable Bureaucracy in Good Omens, you're going to be closer to getting what it's about and where it's going and what its end game is than you are if you are dismissing it as wasted time when we only have few episodes left. If you haven't yet seen the secret wisdom in Jim-- not to mention understand that Jim and Gabriel are the same person-- then you're probably wigging out more about the movie.

You likely think that S2 was wasted on stuff like Gabriel, or Maggie and Nina's romance, when they should have been getting to Armageddon and The Second Coming already!

You haven't yet noticed that Armageddon has more than one meaning in the series.

It's not always the literal destruction of Earth but also a person's own life crisis. We are all worlds of our own and those worlds can be put at risk if we don't let others in and take care of ourselves and those around us.

When you realize this, you can start to see that S1 goes hard with a freight train of plot all over the place that is related to Armageddon in a more Biblical, apocalyptic sense while it establishes its universe for us but that, once we know how it all works, we can get something like S2... a time where we can step back and start using Armageddon in the more figurative way that the story is also presenting it.

We need to because the story isn't about Heaven or Hell-- it's about being a person. S2 is emphasizing the deeper aspects of the themes and rolling that out at a pace more in line with a person having a few days of inner crisis. When you see that Aziraphale's crisis is the point then you can see how S1 can be about The Four Horsepeople riding to the end of the world and S2 can show War (inner conflict), Pollution (mental health issues), and Famine (symptoms of the other two; lack of food and pleasure and connection; self-starvation and self-denial) as a mental health crisis.

The point is that if you're thinking these characters need to come together to overthrow Heaven and Hell and get to the South Downs Cottage and there's no time slajdflkfwjlkejlje!?!?, then you aren't realizing that not every revolution involves guns and bombs.

People all over the world can start a love train that's far more effective. You might think a subplot about The Hellhound and The Ginger Cat learning to play nice and that they have a fuckton in common and should maybe bury the hatchet and just become eternal bffs already is filler but Crowley and Gabriel aligning is set up for the end game. It's strength in numbers and finding peace and family. They can't overthrow Heaven/Hell without help and Gabriel is the Supreme Archangel. They literally will never have a South Downs Cottage ending without a plot that helped Crowley and Aziraphale see that Gabriel and Beez are on their side.

This is the revolution in Good Omens:

It will take all the characters coming together to overthrow Heaven/Hell and set up something new for us to get a happy ending and we absolutely will. S2 is Gabriel-centric because Gabriel is the key to all of the characters getting a peaceful ending and because he's a split-directly-down-the-middle mirror of both Crowley and Aziraphale. In a season that is more about Aziraphale's inner Armageddon than about an external threat, Gabriel is vital to telling that story. The plot of S2 is every bit as important to the story as S1. I'd argue that it's even more important because takes the time to go at the themes in a slower, deeper way. It needs to because it's a story of a fall that sets up for a story in S3 of a recovery from one.

Good Omens is the absolute perfect combination of a show that is both very, very detail-oriented and full of depth while also being, secretly, an incredibly simple story. I do not mean simple in a negative way but in a chef's kiss sort of way. Simple in a tight and elegant sort of way. This is something that I think some people might not see when they're theorizing but it's something to keep in mind ahead of the movie. Not just because the movie is shorter-- this would have been relevant if we were having a longer S3, too.

Good Omens has a very engaged fan base that looks for the details, yes. *raises hand* I'm one of them lol. And there will be plenty to pour over in the movie, but... the big thing to keep in mind is that your theory needs to be something that is simple, that can be explained in under a handful of scenes, tops, and that is focused on where Aziraphale's story arc is going above anything and everything else.

If you're beginning with time loops and the birth of a new antichrist baby, I'm telling you from ages of experience reading and writing stories, you're going to be way off. If you are over here composing theories of the story that you are arguing are correct and this theory involves, idk... *makes something up* Crowley is really Elvis and Elvis is really The Bentley and when a rainbow hits Whickber Street at exactly 4 minutes into the new season, Satan will be revealed to really be Jesus, I think maybe you might be missing the point of the details that the show has given already. Like the plot, these details exist to reinforce the themes of the story. Story beats everything else-- it's what this is all about.

And what Good Omens is about? Is best summed up by Michael Sheen, in this single sentence that I really, really agree with and have paraphrased more than once in posts:

Good Omens is about the business of living. It's about the human experience, which is the experience of being a person. Everything related to Heaven and Hell and good and evil and Armageddon and supernatural things is plot that only exists to highlight a story about the complexities of being a person.

The supernatural is human and the human is supernatural.

That is what Good Omens is about.

While Crowley and Aziraphale are built as two halves of a whole and are both main characters, Aziraphale is the main character from a technical, story perspective, because he is the character whose story arc is driving both the plot and story forward. He's heading for a happy ending with Crowley in the South Downs by the end of the film. If you're making theories, start with what kind of plot would truly get him there and still fit with all of the themes of the story.

This 'it's about being a person' business is why if you look at S2 as filler and not as a season that is exploring the continuing themes on a deeper level, you're still worried about things like there being no time in a movie to show the story of a new antichrist kid being born or how they're going to fit the whole Second Coming into the movie. You don't yet see that Aziraphale parallels Adam and that being an antichrist is basically just being a person and that Aziraphale is presently the antichrist in the story. There is no antichrist child yet to be born. They won't be cutting it because it's not the story.

Armageddon since S2 has been Aziraphale's own personal one and the story from the end of S2 on is now how, if all the other characters can't come together to help him, it could also trigger Armageddon of the S1, Earth-destroying kind. It's tying a more literal Armageddon into a more figurative one. Because this story is about being a person so Armageddon is just metaphorical for going through a mental health crisis and shutting people out.

This story's themes include that every person matters and we all have to let others in and look out for one another. That there's strength in numbers. That found family and adopted family is as much family as biological family-- often, even more so. That labelling and categorizing people is bullshit and you should always open the cover and read the first sentences of people and help people whose stories begin with the same letters find one another. That it might be surprising who has things in common. It's about all of Heaven and Hell versus all of humanity, in the sense that ideas of being a perfect angel or being seen as an evil demon are concepts felt by human beings that get in the way of peace and healthy, happy living, but that fighting them is a common, human struggle, regardless of from where you come.

If you are too focused on the religious plot being the center of the film, you haven't yet seen the meaning of why the end of S1 was an eleven year old kid saving the world by telling off the bio-dad that was never there for him. You might be one of the people who thought this a silly, anti-climatic ending to that story, and don't yet realize that this is the entire story in a nutshell.

Adam can only reject Satan and keep the darkness at bay because he is surrounded-- here, literally-- by a family that supports him. He has good people for parents and was lucky enough to grow up with resources that all kids in this world should have. He has an absolutely terrific group of friends. He has this witch lady and her boyfriend and these two gay uncles that just showed up out of nowhere 😂 and his human incarnate self has what it needs to make it through this crisis, in this moment, even if he'll probably have others throughout his life, just like all of us. He's not evil incarnate and he doesn't have to be perfect-- he's just a person.

Aziraphale tells Adam this but struggles to see himself in the same way. That's what S2 is about.

S2 is about that other kid who, like Adam, breaks the season down into a single line of dialogue, David Tennant's apparent favorite from the season:

Jemimah knows who she is and she is happy to claim ownership over her art and contributions to the world. She's living her life with excitement and enthusiasm in a way that gets more complicated as we become traumatized adults. Crowley and Aziraphale struggle with this. They have been making a life together on Earth for thousands of years and each struggle, in their own ways, to truly accept that they are people who are allowed to have a life because they struggle to accept that they are people, just like everyone else.

Their story is about getting to a better place with that. That's really all Good Omens fundamentally is. That's why their ending is going to be to go live in a little cottage together that isn't a business that covers up an angelic embassy that covers up a secret love den. It's just their house-- theirs together for the life they're going to live openly together.

If you want some peace with the film, I'd advise throwing over your theories about The Second Coming and Armageddon needing to happen and antichrist kids and how Jesus fits into everything. Jesus in Good Omens is Crowley romancing Aziraphale at the crucifixion and Aziraphale using what Jesus said to Crowley to reject temptation as invitation to fuck him. I thought Jesus in a single scene or less was the most likely thing for S3 and the same holds for the movie. It's not the story. The only time The Second Coming is mentioned in S2 is by the villain and, to get there, Earth would have to first be destroyed. It won't be.

If the story is about being a messy human walking the Earth and we're in the end game now, then the story is about Aziraphale and only Aziraphale. Everything-- everything-- will be in service of Aziraphale's story arc. We already had just a few episodes with S3 and we now have even less time but the way this is going is still the same. The story is Aziraphale's fall and the other characters coming together to challenge Heaven to keep Aziraphale from eternity in Hell. That's how Armageddon is stopped this time around-- overthrowing Heaven with Aziraphale's fate as the motivation to take on The Metatron. It's nothing to do with Jesus. It's everything to do with Aziraphale.

When you see that, you can see how feasible that is in 90 minutes, with plenty of time for things like 1941, Part 3 and other flashbacks.

I think, when all is said and done, you might wind up appreciating S2 more after the film but you can get there already if you start looking at it less as meaningless fluff and start asking why it is that we were shown this story, in this way, and what that can tell us about the story we're watching.

[mind-empty-just-fictional-people]

do you think you could write something where ben/soldier boy is jealous of how butcher looks at reader and maybe add some smut so he makes her understand that she’s only his

Jealous

masterlist

pairing: soldier boy x female supe!reader (pyrokinesis - ability to control fire)

rating: R for language, smut

word count: 1.4k

warnings: language, horror movie discussion/spoilers (chucky/child’s play, halloween, it), ends with smut so 18+ only please (not like heavy smut only 231 words), the boys spoilers

timeline: set in an au after season 3

author’s note: thank you for the request, anon! i usually don’t write smut mainly cause i’m bad at it but i hope you like this fic <3

music: all i could think about was jealous by nick jonas while writing this so…

gif source

“Horror movies aren’t really scary! You’re just a fuckin’ wimp!” Butcher shook his head.

“Obviously not all horror movies are scary, but Annabelle is fucking terrifying!” You exclaimed.

“Annabelle scares you?” Ben laughed. “C’mon, sweetheart demonic dolls aren’t real! Demons aren’t even real!”

“Why can’t we just watch something else?” You asked. “If it’s killer dolls you want, let’s watch Child’s Play!”

“Yeah, I’m with Y/n on this one,” Hughie chipped in. “I vote we watch Chucky.”

“Thank you!” You smiled. “Either we watch Chucky or I won’t tell you guys where I keep the Jiffy Pop.”

“Fine, you win,” Butcher rolled his eyes. “Nice to know your weakness is possessed dolls though, now I know how to scare the shit outta you next Halloween.”

“If you bring an Annabelle doll anywhere near me I will burn it to ash before it touches me,” You laughed.

You stood up and made your way over to the kitchen. Butcher watched as you reached to grab the popcorn from an upper cabinet. He watched as your shirt rode up and he could see your lower back. He watched as you bent down to get something from a lower cabinet, and as you placed a large bowl on the table.

“Where’s the remote?” Hughie asked, seeing Ben eyeing Butcher like he wanted to strangle him.

“Should be in the top left drawer by the TV,” You called out from the kitchen. “Ben, could you show him?”

“It’s in there,” Ben grumbled, pointing to the drawer.

“Thanks,” Hughie replied quietly.

Butcher watched as you continued in the kitchen; biting your bottom lip a little as you pressed the buttons on the microwave after tossing in a bag of popcorn. Ben was slowly getting more and more angry.

He suddenly stood up and made his way over to you.

“Every-” Before you could finish he crashed his lips onto yours. You continued when he pulled away, “-thing okay?”

He didn’t say anything, just kissed you again. He brought one hand to cup your cheek and the other to slide down your back and rest on your butt. You pulled away when the popcorn sounded done.

“Could you put another one in while I pour this in the bowl, please?” You asked as you shook the bag to distribute the butter evenly.

“Sure thing,” He said, grabbing another bag out of the box. “How long?”

“Uh, four minutes, but you have to listen for when the popping stops.”

He nodded a little before doing as you instructed.

“Hey, so uh…you and Butcher…is there anything I should worry about?” He asked quietly.

“What?” You laughed a little, but then realized he was serious. “Ben you know I only have eyes for you?”

“Well now you do, what about all that time everyone thought I was dead? You’ve worked with Butcher for years, right?”

“Well that’s not fair!” You scoffed. “You slept with a ton of people before you met me!” He furrowed his brows a little.

“So you slept with Butcher?” He exclaimed.

“Shh!” Your eyes widened, glancing over your shoulder to be sure Hughie and Butcher weren’t listening. “I- I may have had a one night thing with Butcher like four years ago.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me this before we invited him over to our fucking home?” He gritted his teeth a little.

“Please don’t be mad,” You sighed. “It really didn’t mean anything, Ben. He hates Supe’s and I’m pretty sure he regretted it instantly afterwards.” You took his hand in yours and looked up at him. “I only have eyes for you, Ben. I love you!”

“I don’t think he regrets it, he’s been mentally undressing you non-stop.”

“He can mentally undress me all he wants, you’re the one that gets to undress me for real,” You smirked a little.

“Yeah, I still wanna tear his spine out,” He mumbled and started walking away.

“Ben,” You gripped his upper arm and stopped him. He turned to look at you and you pulled him down into a kiss. “I love you.”

“I love you,” He smiled.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Butcher before, does it really bother you?”

“Not really, what’s bothering me is how he’s looking at you,” He sighed a little. “They’re sleeping here tonight, right?”

“Yeah,” You nodded.

“Who’s sleeping where?”

“Hughie in the guest room, Butcher on the upstairs couch.”

“The pullout couch?” He smirked. “In the room next to ours?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Nothin’, nothin’ at all,” He replied and kissed you again.

**

You didn’t notice, but throughout the movie Butcher was eyeing you incrementally. When you’d reach over Ben to grab some popcorn and he could see your cleavage nicely his eyes were glued. It happened quite a few times until Ben moved the popcorn closer to you so you wouldn’t have to reach for it.

Every scary scene you’d reach for Ben’s hand and snuggle into his side for a sense of security. (Not that you were really scared, but you wanted an excuse to be even closer to Ben.) He’d respond by holding you tighter and whispering sweet nothings into your ear about how he’ll never let a killer doll hurt you.

Dinner was a little awkward between Ben and Butcher; Solder Boy caught him eyeing you over and over. You and Hughie, however, were having a lovely conversation about horror movies.

“Pennywise and Micheal Myers aren’t even comparable, Hughie! What kind of question is that?” You scoffed, laughing.

“Okay but overall, Micheal Myers is better,” He replied.

“No! Micheal Myers is just a run-of-the-mill serial killer, Pennywise is a supernatural shape shifting killer clown!” You exclaimed. “Ben, back me up here.” You turned to look at him and gained his attention by tapping his upper arm.

“What was the question sweetheart?” He asked.

“Micheal Myers from the Halloween movies, or Pennywise from Stephen King’s It?”

“Oh Myers definitely,” He nodded.

“No, you’re supposed to say Pennywise,” You whispered.

“I love you but Pennywise is fuckin’ horrific!” He whispered back, smiling.

“I win,” Hughie grinned widely.

“Wait so Annabelle doesn’t scare you but Pennywise does?” You asked Ben, purposefully annoying Hughie by ignoring him.

“All they had to do to stop Annabelle is set her on fire, Pennywise basically can’t die,” He shrugged.

“Okay one, burning the doll would just free the demon, and two, Pennywise dies at the end of the second movie.”

“Does he though, Y/n? Does he?” Ben teased, you rolled your eyes.

“Butcher, you agree with me, right?” You said.

“Pennywise is creepier but is much easier to beat in a fight,” Butcher replied. “All you gotta do is close your eyes, tell yourself he ain’t real, and the cunt disappears. Myers on the other hand has died several times but it never seems to stick. Myers is better.”

“I hate you all so much right now!” You groaned.

“Ooh how about what horror movie villain could you beat in a fight?” Hughie offered, understanding the Myers vs Pennywise topic had been settled.

“All of them,” Ben stated seriously.

**

You stepped out of the bathroom after your shower, wearing nothing but a t-shirt of Ben’s.

“On the bed, now.” He said sternly. You smiled widely, you loved when he got all authoritative in the bedroom. You hurried to the bed and he quickly followed, freeing himself of his own clothes.

He knelt down between your bent legs, spreading them wider with his hands. With almost no preparation, he slid himself all the way in, making you cry out with pleasure and pain.

“Oh, god, Ben!” You exclaimed, squeezing your eyes shut. He stayed there and watched you writhe under him. “B-Ben, move,” You squeaked, urging him to create some friction.

“Nuh uh,” He held your hips down when you tried to thrust upward. “Who does this pussy belong to?”

“You, Ben, I’m all yours,” You breathed.

“Louder, I want Butcher to fuckin’ hear you. I want him to know who fuckin’ owns you.”

“Ben! I’m all yours oh god!” You exclaimed. “Please- Just-”

He bent down and kissed you.

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard you can’t even walk tomorrow,” He whispered. “You’re all mine, Y/n.”

“I’m all yours Ben, fuck!” You screamed.

That was enough for him to pull almost all the way out and thrust back in, repeating over and over. With every thrust he had you screaming his name and proving you truly were all his.

[datesinredink]

Heyyy so maybe I'm insane but. Do NOT Take This Cat Home (which I'll shorten to Dnttch) yandere rottmnt au. Hmmm. I havent slept in 24 hours so I don't know how you would meet them but I do know that it would be very fun to think about how the weird eldritch horror/"OH NO THEY EAT PEOPLE" part would come into play.

Oh wait actually IDEA you could start off meeting one of the turtles (probably Mikey, he'd be most likely to stick around instead of eating you and convince you to take him home because he's so lost and hungry in this new place, couldn't you pleeaaase take pity on this poor turtle?) and then over time, since we know in the Dnttch universe, the cat multiplies in at least two ways (I, in fact have not seen all the endings yet), so the first turtle could gather the other three over time. One could be from a plushie in the pet shop or won at the carnival (prob Raph), the second could be from the movie theater (Leo, I think the hypnosis is weirdly fitting for him), and the final one... Wait. I'm not sure. THERES A LITTLE LIVE PETS TURTLE???? YEAH OK THATS FUNNY I'LL PUT IT IN.

Buuuuuuttttt after the four are all gathered and living in your house (despite your insistence that you couldn't possibly afford to support them. luckily, despite occasionally waking up and seeing one of them in the corner of your room drooling, they've never shown any need to eat) they've gotten a bit attached. They saw you as a possible meal, at first, then a convenient hiding place, but they seem to have found themselves getting attached. They decide that since you've helped them soo much, that they should at least return the favor before they decide to eat you(something you're frighteningly aware they've almost done- the still healing scar from the last time the red one visited your room) or leave.

Now, you feel constant eyes staring holes into your back, and your rude coworkers now either show up on the news with their bones picked almost clean or don't turn up at all. Now, sometimes they'll bring back one of their kills to share with you (after all, aren't you hungry? They've seen you eat, but surely it isn't filling enough to really sustain you- to them, that's why you seem so tired all the time). Since you always turn them down, maybe instead they'll just have you help them store the leftovers!

Raph, as they've taken to calling the biggest of them, eats more frequently than the others to sustain his growth, so there can sometimes be extras that the other three don't particularly want at the time. He even goes out of his way to help you with tearing and cutting apart the meat! It's almost sweet, if only for the weight of what exactly you're putting in Tupperware right now.

Leo gets more aggressive about your attention now, always begging you to play games or watch TV with him. Sometimes he's even fine with just reading comics in the same place, as long as he gets to hold onto you in some way. It's annoying at best in the morning when you have to go to work, but downright terrifying when his marks flare up late at night after you've just insisted for the 10th time that you're tired and don't want to deal with him. Usually, the threat of flickering blue light vaguely forming some kind of sword is enough to convince you otherwise.

Mikey tries his best to help you adjust to your new roommates! He knows how stressed out you are about work, you should tell him about it! He'll even take notes about how they can all brighten your day, so feel free to speak your mind about that horrible lady who yelled at you today. Was she your boss? A coworker? Maybe a customer who asked for the manager? He'll give you a warm hug and reassure you that everything will be ok, and that maybe you should teach him a new recipe from granny's cookbook tonight to take your mind off things! The scene you wake up to the next morning is Mikey humming to himself while the girl's flesh sizzles in the pan you let him borrow last night, Raph drooling over said slab of meat, as well as Donnie and Leo playing the most intense game of rock paper scissors (a game they're glad you taught them- how else would they make decisions) to decide who gets the first plate of food.

Donnie's always useful to have around, his fascination with human technology quickly being honed into electronic mastery. Despite his more reclusive nature, he's still gotten you out of many a pinch with malfunctioning devices, like when you sorrowfully cradled your old toaster in your arms on your way to trash it, only for him to take it from you and return it a couple days later fixed up like new. You appreciate his contributions, and though you're the beta tester for a multitude of his dangerous inventions, with the amount he does for you, it's hard to not feel like you owe him, especially when he himself openly agrees with that point. You just wish he'd give you a break from the explosions...

[freshxsturniolo]

This might be a mouth full but can you do one where Matt o(or Chris)and y/n are in a relationship but they had some time apart and in that time Matt (or Chris) saw someone else and they go to mutuals party she’s there but y/n has no idea they hooked up and when she pieces it together she gets upset that he never told her and etc.

HEY BABY this was so fun to write. i hope this is okay <3 (i did matt hehe)

your relationship with matt in the first year had been far from perfect. you were the absolute definition of right person, wrong time. his YouTube career was at its peak, subscribers climbing higher and higher each week, and it was difficult for you both to juggle such a change to his life, plus your own life with your own commits, and your relationship.

when you both came to the decision to take a break for a while, your heart had broke. you had both cried and spent the day in his room, cuddled together on his bed watching your favourite tv shows, promising to always love each other no matter what happened.

you spent 6 months watching him rise and rise, whilst your own career took off better than ever. you were heartbroken but you had hope. you had faith that together one day you would be together again. you had said it was nothing more than a break, knowing your love for each other would bond together again one day. but over the course of those months you both become so busy, it had almost seemed unlikely. you had somehow learned to live a life without matt sturniolo, watching from the shadows of his life.

texts become the odd instagram dm, before becoming nothing more than the odd instagram like. but you were happy. you could tell he was living his life, he looked happier and healthier than had ever done before and that was enough for you.

"we love each other no matter what happens, okay?" his words to you that final night 6 months prior. and you did.

but when you woke up one january morning to a missed call, your heart had been in your throat. it had come early, around 6am, but in your deep slumber you hadn't heard it. there was no follow up. there was no text afterwards. you even checked on instagram and there had been no DM. you had almost convinced yourself it was accidental, but there was something in your heart pulling you to him.

so you called, and he answered on the first ring. you grabbed coffee together an hour later, and that night, you were back at his house, watching movies with him and his two brothers like nothing had ever happened.

"i never stopped loving you, you know" he had said, and you had smiled as you finally leant in to kiss his soft lips.

"me either, matt. we said we never would."

he smiled. "i know"

and suddenly, everything worked out. the time apart had been perfect, you couldn't deny it. as heartbroken as you had been at the time. you had learned to live without him but the minute you was in his presence again, you knew you never actually wanted to live without him.

and matt felt the same. he knew that the lack of contact was his own fault. he had been the one to stop replying to your texts, the one to stop replying to your instagram stories, but he had never stopped thinking about you. his brothers had told him he was stupid, but he knew he wasn't. the 6 months break was needed. and when he woke up that one january morning, and he woke up and did his daily scan of your social media outlets, he knew it was time. he knew he needed you back in his life.

to now, 5 months later, watching you apply the last touch of your make up in the mirror of his bathroom whilst he came out of his bedroom, looking at you with a smile.

"you ready?" he asked, and you looked at him through the mirror.

"beyond ready, i need a drink" you said, walking over to him and wrapping your arms around his neck. his arms snaked around your lower back and he leant in to give you a soft kiss.

"you two are too lovey dovey for me" you heard chris remark from the kitchen, and you had rolled your eyes with a laugh, pulling away.

"try talking to a girl for more than one second" matt had said, and you turned around to slap his arm. these boys could be so cruel to each other, but you knew it was all in love.

"come on, we're already late" nick had said from somewhere you couldn't see until you heard his feet down the stairs, chris following not far behind.

and an hour later, you where leant against the kitchen in your friends new house, chatting to a few of your girlfriends. you were celebrating her new career move and her new house and you were beaming with pride at how all of your lives were working out. your friends were happy, you were happy, your boyfriend was happy. life couldn't have worked out better.

"so," your friend said, coming to the side of you. "you and matt are okay, right?"

you smiled at her, swallowing down your drink.

"better than ever. the break really did us good" you said, and she smiled.

"im so glad."

and as if right on queue, he appeared.

"hey, babe" he said, walking over and planting a kiss on your lips.

"hey, baby" you smiled in return.

he moved to the side of you, reaching around to grab a fresh drink.

"you having fun?" he asked, but you didn't get chance to reply before his name was squealed from somewhere across the room. both of your heads snapped around, and it didn't take more than a second to see the beaming smile of some girl you'd never seen. you knew your friend had a whole group of friends you didn't know, you'd been passing polite hellos across the last hour, but this girl you had never seen before.

"oh, fuck." you heard matt utter under his breath, and your head snapped away from the gorgeous girl walking towards you and towards your boyfriend. you noticed the way his face had turned weary.

"who's that?" you whispered, and he looked at you for a millisecond before the girl was in front of you.

she was taller than you, her hair placed in a blonde bun on top of her head, and she was gorgeous, absolutely gorgeous. you didn't even notice you'd straightened your position and pouted your lips slightly.

her arms immediately went around matts neck, and you stood at the side of him as you watched him wrap his arms loosely around her back.

"hey" he muttered as they pulled away.

"i haven't seen you in so long" she beamed up at him, before her eyes finally diverted in your direction. "oh, hey!" she said, and you smiled.

"this is y/n" he said, and you saw from the corner of your eye that he was looking at you as he said it. but you kept your eyes on this stunning blonde, watching as her eyes widen slightly. and then she lunges forward to hug you, her perfume strong against your nose.

"i've heard so much about you!" she exclaims. you can't help but hug her back.

"you have?" you say with a laugh, your eyes finally meeting matts against the hug. when she pulls away, you notice the way his eyes go straight to her.

"so much! so," she says, taking a step back. "you guys are back together?"

"yeah" matt answers immediately, his hand finding yours.

"ah, im happy for you both!" she beams. "that explains the quietness, matt" she laughs, and your heart stops.

you look down at matts hand in yours, the sudden need to be close to you, and her words, and suddenly you feel sick.

the blonde reaches behind matt to the row of drinks behind you, and when her eyes are diverted else where you give matt a look, he smiles. but it doesn't reach his eyes like it normally does. when she finally pulls back, drink in hand, she looks between you both awkwardly. matt still hasn’t responded to her previous remark.

you put on a smile before pulling your hand away from matt.

“well, i’ll leave you both to catch up” you say, diverting your eyes to the girl who you hadn’t even asked her name, before you turn on your heel.

“babe” he starts, but you turn around quickly.

“matt,” you say. and he knows. he knows not to follow you.

you look back to the girl. “lovely to meet you”

“you too�� she says, but you’ve walked away before you even see her face.

you can’t be upset. you can’t. but god it was so fucking obvious. her excited squeal, the look on her face when he said your name, it was so fucking obvious and you can’t help the tears that have brimmed in your eyes.

but you’re startled by a familiar face walking around the corner, slamming yourself against his chest.

“woooo easy tiger” chris says, and you look up at him as the first tear falls. “oh, fuck. what’s happened?”

but his eyes divert behind you and you see the way his eyes widen. it’s all the confirmation you need.

“did he sleep with her?” you ask, taking a deep breath. you could not cry on your boyfriends brothers shoulder.

“it’s not my place-“

you laugh. “so yes”

“it was only a handful of times”

“a HANDFUL?” you shout, and chris’ eyes widen as he pulls you backwards, out of the view of the kitchen and into the hallway he’d just emerged from. “a fucking handful, chris?”

“i’m not sure, alright? you should speak to matt about it”

you knew he was right. you were putting him on the spot and that wasn’t fair.

“can i chill with you, for a minute?” you ask, the anger surging through you almost unbearable.

“yes, come on” he says, and he takes your wrists and drags you in the direction of some of his friends.

they shout your name when they see you, and you put on a brave face, but the atmosphere is ruined. it’s not that you could even be mad. jesus, you weren’t together. but it was the not knowing. it was the fact he hadn’t told you. you had spent months learning to live a life without him and he’d spent it buried up in some other girl.

“he loves you, you know” chris said randomly an hour later. you’d been glued it his side the entire time, and listening to him yap to his friends had kept you from spiralling. the blonde and matt had not entered your line of sight once.

you look up at him with a smile. “i know” you whisper, and he gives you a one arm hug, pulling you into his side. “go and talk to him, please.”

and you knew you had to. because you weren’t having fun, and you needed to hear it from him.

so you stand up, leaving chris to his friends and make your way into the kitchen. your eyes scan but matts no where to be seen, and you let out a sigh as you head towards to garden. it’s louder out here, people are so clearly drunk and there’s more and more people you don’t recognise now, but you hear a familiar laugh from the right side of you and you turn to see nick, and just to his side is matt, picking off the label of his drink. but it only takes him a few seconds before his eyes are on yours, his back straightening immediately before his drink is placed on the table and he stands, heading straight towards you. you can feel the tears forming immediately.

“where have you been?” he asks when he reaches you, his voice mellow.

“with chris” you admit, but you can’t stop the crack in your voice.

“baby-“

“why didn’t you tell me, matt?”

“i’m so - i’m sorry. it didn’t seem relevant”

you scoff. “of course it’s relevant, matt. of course it is”

“it was nothing. i promise it was nothing. i missed you every single day, alright? every single fucking second. but you were thriving, babe. i saw it all over your instagram, you were thriving and it would have been selfish of me to ask you back so soon”

you sigh, looking up at the sky. the sun was still bright but it was nearing evening time.

“how long after we ended it?” you ask. you needed to know.

“3 months” he admits.

“and how long for?” you ask. you shouldn’t care. it doesn’t matter. “actually, don’t answer that. i don’t need to know”

matt smiles slightly. “i should have told you. i’m sorry. i just didn’t want to lose you before i’d even got you back” he says, and your heart swells.

“we promised to love each other always, matt.”

“i know, baby. and i do. so much.” he grabs your face in between his hands now, and you can’t help but let out a smile.

“i’m sorry” you whisper, and his face screws in confusion.

“for getting mad. what you did in those 6 months shouldn’t matter. but-“

“it’s okay” he cuts you off. “it’s totally okay. i should have told you.”

and then he kisses you, softly, like he doesn’t know what your reaction will be, but you lean in to kiss him back.

“can we go home?” you ask, suddenly feeling drained and out of social battery.

“i was about to ask you the same thing.”

and so he drove you both home, his hand on your thigh the entire time as he drove, a comfortable silence washing over you. but when you pull up, you need to ask him one more thing before you get let the situation drop.

“matt” you start, and he turns to you. “you said it would have been selfish to ask me back so soon.”

his eyes look over you, but you continue. “is that why you stopped contact? so that you wouldn’t?”

he sighs, twisting his position to look out the front of his car. and he thinks for a while. i can see him trying to figure out what to say. and then he turns to look at you again.

“yes. it was so hard for me. chris and nick kept telling me i was stupid, that you loved me and that you would have supported me no matter what we went through. but i knew that the break would have made us stronger. and then i saw you thriving y/n, you were telling me all these amazing things and i just couldn’t. we needed time apart, to focus on other things. and i don’t know why i started hooking up with her, maybe to fill a void? life was hard without you.”

you nod, you understand. “i would have come straight back.” you say, and he smiles.

“i know. and that’s why i couldn’t.”

you sit in silence for a while, thinking about him. the life you had before. but also the life you had now. and it had worked. he was yours. no one else’s.

“i understand. i really do. im so proud of you”

“for what?”

“everything, matt. you say you saw me thriving but every single day, i saw you. and chris and nick. and maybe im selfish that i would have come back so quickly, but im proud of you, okay? so fucking proud.”

and his lips are on yours immediately, pushing you against the car window, and you can’t help but giggle into him.

“i should be grateful, i suppose” you mutter against his lips, and he pulls away to look at you with a questioning glare. you shrug. “cause now i know no other chick can fill your void.”

“oh shut up” he mumbles, but you’re both laughing as he kisses you again.

[nyoxy-ghostie]

Day twenty-four of writemas

It's Christmas eve I have wrapped all my gifts wrapped I'm so glad I got to participate, i think out of all the 24 stories I only disliked one anyway one finally thank you and appreciation to @agirlandherquill for allowing me to join and show off my work :)

P.s I changed 'it' to 'life'

Fandom: House md

My prompts: dialogue; "One day, everything we know will be gone. Until that time, you owe it to history to enjoy life."

Gregory house x Gender-neutral reader

Warnings: inaccurate medical stuff, nothing else

Feedback is always welcome <3

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

"Why do you think house acts that way?" You asked Chase, Chase scoffed and stared at you with a boyish smirk "house is an ass, you can't expect somethin' from him, he won'tgive you what you want" you hummed in acknowledgement but still wondered about him it was not exactly the awnser you wanted from chase but before you could ask another house walked into the room.

"Well what are you two school girls gossiping about?" House walked right past us to the coffee machine "nothing important, why did you tell us to meet you here if you were going to be late?" House took a sip of the coffee from his red mug, you needed to get him a new one he has had that same red mug for three years now. "I figured I'd make you wait, you know to up suspense?" House gave you a sassy look before he took another sip of his coffee, you wanted to sleep in longer you have been have rough nights sleeping and it didn't help that everytime you fell asleep it was either a nightmare or a dream about your boss.

House tossed us each a file "where's foreman?" House asked as he started writing liver failure and low circulation. "We don't know, he is probably sleeping in like every other person on the planet right now." You bit back sarcastically, lack of sleep has really messed with your head. He turned around and stared at you with an eyebrow raised, before squinting at you and turning back around to look at the white board. "Run a test for an infection" "her white count was normal." "I know. Run for infection"

It had been a full day of nothing but working, you were exhausted beyond belief. Curling up in a warm bed while some movie played on the TV sounded so nice right now, but house had you playing around with the women's blood looking for an infection that she probably didn't have as foreman would have so lovely put it. Chase looked more exhausted then you did, even if you doubt he stayed up as long as you have but you sent him home anyway.

Now it was only you in the lab, foreman left saying he had something to do and you sent chase home over an hour ago. You laid your head down as you were waiting for the spining thing to stop, that was your mistake. Your eyes shut quicker then you could fight the sleepiness in your brain, you should have known house would be the one to find and wake you up, almost as if he knew you were asleep.

House threw his cane down aggressively next to your head, it made a loud noise that made you jump awake. It took a second to realize who was infront of you, Gregory house. "Why must you make everyone around you miserable?" You mumble as you bang your head on the iron table, "well aren't you just a sunshine" he said shoving a cracker in his mouth, before he read over the computer infront of you that had all the infections on it, you had done a little over half of the 15 or 20 test needed to be done.

"One day, everything we know will be gone." You said, he rolled his eyes "you steal that one from wilson?" He asked retorically, continuing to shove another cracker in his mouth. "Until that time house, you owe it to history to enjoy life." You finished, you left the lab and started walking away to who knows where. House didn't follow you he was surprised and shocked at what you had said.

Maybe you weren't just eye candy after all, maybe your an actual doctor.

[edith-is-a-cat]

Malleus Draconia x GN!Reader (No pronouns used or mentioned, can been seen as romantic and/or platonic, and written in second person)

Word count: 651 TLDR: Showing Malleus Howl's Moving Castle with a side of some sad thoughts. Comments: I honestly think Malleus would love Howl's Moving Castle. I may be bias because it is my favorite movie..

You are sitting in Ramshackle after the events of Idia's overblot, still having so many memories of previous ones on your mind. You're laying on the couch trying to think of what to do to take you away from the intruding thoughts of what could go wrong next. Grim is already asleep even though it just barely hit sundown. You decide to take a walk.

You throw on an old hoodie from when you first arrived, it gets surprisingly cold in Wonderland at night. Just when your hand meets the cool metal of the doorknob three solid knocks are heard from the other side. You twist the knob slowly creaking it open just enough to see who is there. Surprisingly, the figure was familiar, looming and almost eerie in the low lighting, Malleus Draconia. "Greetings, child of man." the still shrouded figure softly spoke, as if he could spook you, "May I come in?" You nodded as you opened the door for him. Why not, company could be better than a walk to shut your nagging and anxiety filled thoughts up. Your eyes follow Malleus as he walked around like he knew this places as well as the back of his hand. You invite him to sit down in the lounge while you go back to rummage in your room for anything to entertain the prince with. You carefully sift through your belongs that have been mostly in your room's closet ever since you arrived. As luck would have it you were going to a sleep over when you were almost ran over by that damned carriage. You wonder if your friends worried where you went... you stop your thoughts right there. No time to worriedly wonder about your presence back on Earth, you had a guest over. You continue to rifle through your closet when you reach into the bottom of your old backpack for your hand to hit something hard. You pull it out to see it was a DVD copy of Howl's Moving Castle. Score! you found at least something to show him, hopefully he will take an interest in it. You shake off any dust that might have gathered on it, you were going to watch it at that sleep over. If Malleus was to stay the night then you guess its quest would be fulfilled. Either way it would be fun showing him something from your world. You go back to the lounge with your prize from the hunt in hand. Holding it up like a certain lion cub. You look to Malleus, who sits perched on the couch, for any comment. He cocks his head as he softly asks, "If I may ask, what may you be holding?" "Movie, from my world." You proudly say as you beeline over to the TV and all the tech stuff you got as an apology for what happened with the last overblot. You have to take a minute to look around the TV and figure out which gadget would work with what gizmo. After a taking an almost saddening amount of time turning on everything, you grab the remote from it's spot on the TV cabinet. You then turn and take your spot by Malleus. You finick with the remote until you can finally get the correct setting to work the TV. Malleus looks at you with pity but decides it's better for you to learn by yourself. You eventually figure out how to work most of the remote and have satisfied yourself with the setting enough to finally play the movie. "I really think you are going to like this" you chirp as you lean back into the couch. The prince silently nods as he intently watches the the TV. Oh, only if you knew what you had done. He did not stop talking about it for weeks, even suggested commissioning a gargoyle of Howl's bird form.

Ending comment: Uhm! Hi!! thank you for reading.. I wrote this in Auburn's inbox and though "eh I'll post it too"

[mskenway97]

Could I request some mouthplay/vore stuff with Animated Bumblebee maybe? If it’s okay 👉👈

Well anon, you made me think about this one but something came to me that might help. I'll increase Bumblebee's size a bit this fic. I choose a human reader

Tfa Bumblebee x gn!human!reader

Side Effects

Summary: One of the meltdown tests affected one of the autobots, and he faced the side effect.

Words: 1,131

Warning: soft vore, safe vore, mouthplay, predatory/prey, unwilling prey.

It seemed to be an easy mission, catching Detroit's bad guys was something routine that the Prime team was used to.

Meltdown was waiting as if he had something on his mind. They had him at the ready until Bumblebee once again heeded his instinct instead of Prime's orders, he launched himself straight at the enemy only to be pinned down and feel a jab in his neck from Meltdown himself.

Bumblebee felt funny, until the enemy threw him away.

- What have you done to me? Bumblebee asked in annoyance but only Meltdown's laughter was heard.

-You'll find out soon enough.... - Meltdown said as the rest of the team approached making Meltdown leave.

Bumblebee still felt strange about the jab, he wasn't listening to Optimus' scolding, Bulkhead's words. Ratchet and Prowl noticed right away that the little autobot wasn't acting weird.

They went back to the base and examined Bumblebee, Ratchet had to examine him some more, he discovered there was something different....

Another emergency alarm went off, Bumblebee wanted to go but Optimus told him to stay at the base until further notice, leaving little Bumblebee a little upset. He was an action bot, a little prick wasn't going to bother him.

He watched the others leave and he sat playing the video game console getting dizzier and dizzier, it felt weird as if his limbs were enlarging a little. He fainted soon after, he felt something different... something deep.

Y/N had been able to leave work earlier. He hoped the autobots were.Y/N hadn't seen them in a while, plus had brought a new set for Bumblebee. I knew them from Sari as she was their babysitter, the chics were eager to show Bumblebee. Lively, childish but cute. He was surprised by their knowledge of video games, they were like rivals with joysticks. Y/N always ends up beating him making the situation more fun.

Y/N arrived at the base, which was quiet and there were no lights either. It was strange, Y/N prepared a flashlight... Despite being the base of the autobots, it was in an area quite far from the city as if it were a scary movie.

When he got to the main room, he saw that the TV was on with a video game, that gave him relief. Seeing that Bumblebee was lying on the floor causing Y/N to approach in concern.

- Bee! Bee! What happened? Bee," she said shaking him a little.

Bumblebee reacted to the touch and stood up in front of Y/N with a different expression. Y/N thought to himself, "How big are you? I remembered him shorter."

-Bee, are you okay? I saw you were on the floor and I feared the worst.... Look, I brought a new game. Bee? - asked Y/N. He was starting to feel the chills, something was wrong he was sure. She saw him approach her, as he licked his lips.

- I'm hungry

'Oh was that' thought Y/N

- I'm sure there's something in store....

- No, something different...

Y/N felt something weird going on. Something wrong... It felt like he was looking at her, following her with his eyes.

- Bee?

-I'm sure there's a more appetizing morsel...

All of Y/N's instincts kicked in and he started to run away from it, he tried to catch call someone but saw that Bumblebee was following him. So he ran faster that he dropped his cell phone on the way breaking it. Y/N felt his heart in his chest and hid behind the machinery, having a bit of an advantage being so small.

-Come on Y/N, I'll see you.... I'm sure we both like this game...

Y/N on the other hand was terrified, she hoped the autobots would arrive soon, she was trembling. She hoped it was a nightmare, she heard Bumblebee's footsteps approaching the hiding place. She tried to hold her breath, she could only hear her heart beating. He saw that he was walking away until seconds later silence returned, he thought Y/N would be safe. She relied to feel Bumblebee's servo capture her, Y/N tried to resist as best she could but she could barely move but had fallen into his servos.

-Bee, please... Listen to me," Y/N said nervously.

Bumblebee on the other hand licked her cheek and then her neck.

- I love the taste of you... I prefer to enjoy it more inside my mouth.

Y/N was horrified begging and crying but Bumblebee didn't care, despite the resistance he managed to put it in his mouth.

A big glossa starts to lick every part of your body... Giving you some warmth in spite of the fear you were feeling.

- You taste better when you twist it's very sweet of you...

Y/N was feeling small bites on her shoulder from Bumblebee's teeth, she felt her glossa turn this one over, licking more, you could hear it purring as it crushed you a little against the teeth, leaving you a little smothered.

You didn't know if you were living a nightmare or if you were being pleasured.

- You're delicious, sweetie - says Bumblebee moving from one side of his faceplate to the other crushing you a little giving you a gasp at the feel of it.

-Bee, please get me out of here... please," Y/N tried to move but her glossa had her completely immobilized.

-Relax, I'm sure it's a ride you're going to love.

Y/N felt a shiver as she shivered a little making part of the glossa lick the little one more.

-Nervous, candy... relax, we don't consume humans.... So you'll be comfortable in my tanks

Y/N tried to struggle to get out of there but was simply trapped as the glossa pushed it into her esophagus, Bumblebee gulped as Y/N was screaming Bumblebee's name was slowly going down trapped, surrounded and choking a little.

Bumblebee was feeling happy, he was rubbing his chassis as he felt Y/N in his tanks.

Then he passed out again seeing what had happened.

The autobots came back later, to see where Bumblebee was and what had happened to him they also noticed he was more.

Bumblebee had no recollection of what had happened. Then Prowl found Y/N's broken cell phone and everyone was worried about what had happened until Bumblebee remembered certain flashes of what had happened.

Y/N were scared, feeling every part of you in his glossa and finally felt something in his tanks.

Y/N were still there.

Bumblebee was terrified, that was Meltdown's surprise... And/N had paid the price.

He felt a little movement as remorse, it was all over him.

Bumblebee would have to give a long explanation of that night.

A strange one and one that Y/N was not going to forget in his nightmares.

[spacedadkronos]

Ooo, lol, looks like someone got their knickers twisted so hard they wrote a whole essay about how they're categorically correct about an ultimately subjective matter. That's always a winning approach.

Please do not try to "educate" me the difference between writers and executive producers in animation. I have an animation degree. I'm not a child.

 I follow both Brent and Alan on Twitter and have been for like 3 years now. I have been watching their updates since the announcement of the show 2 years ago. I have pics of them celebrating finishing up the writing. Here's proof that they wrote it, including screenshots of the IMDb Brent had linked on his Twitter. 

I said this is not what they consider THE sequel. Obviously it is *a* sequel. I'm saying people should not be treating it like Megamind 2 when it is a pilot for the TV show. They want a real theatrical sequel.

This is a random screenshot I felt was important

I think this person better put what I meant about not as many people would care this much if it wasn't on streaming:

Megamind was an arrogant little egomaniac for the entirety of the first movie. Not sure how you missed that. Roxanne appears dissatisfied with her place in life from her recording at the Metro Man Museum with Hal onward, and does her level best to become the hero her city needs because no one else is going to stand up and do it - not sure how you missed that, either, but her whole character arc is about stepping up to the plate to do good. Well done reducing her to a single career point and then discarding her. I wasn't surprised to see her frustrations with going right back to reporting. That was a headspace that made a ton of sense for her. It was set up incredibly well.

And Megamind himself says, "some days, it felt like it was just me and Minion against the world," so you might think I agree with you there - but in fact I'm going to point out the SOME days, it FELT LIKE. There is no reason to believe that he never had any other professional associates between the time he left the schoolhouse and the time we see him as an established supervillain. In fact, I can and will argue that there's room to interpret *he himself* saying he wasn't always flying solo. It's up to interpretation - but it's there.

And no, Roxanne and Megamind are not and should not be "quasi-dating" unless you want to look past the enormous Bernard lie. Which I can't say I'm surprised you did, since Roxanne doesn't matter as anything other than Reporter Romantic Interest, apparently. The end of the original implies they have *potential.*

But I'm not trying to convince you. At the end of the day, you didn't enjoy something you hoped to enjoy. You missed a few key points about the original, so the pilot of the show didn't line up with some of your expectations and it pissed you off. That's a shame. But instead of offering some grace and recognizing it for what it is - a movie designed for a younger demographic than the original, the first ounce of love Dreamworks has shown this IP since its initial release more than a decade ago, and as much story as could be crammed into 83 minutes because the people making it only had so much time within which to work, which is *honestly a fun ride* if somewhat tonally dissonant compared to what YOU were hoping for - you've decided instead to focus on what it wasn't: What You Personally Wanted. And you've decided to make your disappointment everyone else's problem instead of processing it like an adult and moving on.

I think you're boring, I think you're unkind, I think you're a whiny little bully who came onto MY POST to bitch and complain about how you're the god of what I'M allowed to enjoy. Block me, if I make you so miserable. I'm busy having fun.

[waxingrunes]

Do you have any fun headcanons on what's on wolfstar's nightstand? like are they creams? what books? we know there's tea on Sirus's nightstand but is it REALLY ever finished? what type of tea is it?

And finally... what tv shows/movies are wolfstars favs do you think?

sorry for the lovebomb questions i just want to live rent free in ur headcanons. U truly have a fantastic mind

You’ve put me to work with this sweet anon.

Sirius will have about three drinks on the go at any one time and even if the glass or bottle is empty, there’s a strong possibility it’s going to stay there for a day or two until he needs more room. He used to hate tea, but has learnt to tolerate and maybe even prefer it at times through Remus’ persistent feeding. He hates anything with berries as it lays bitter on his tongue, but will happily sip chamomile or lemon at any hour. He has an alarm clock that always malfunctions which Remus reaches over to slam off every time but Sirius insists he’s too attached to get rid. One of Remus’ watches will be right next to it so he can peep his eyes open and check the time. A hair bobble which always falls behind the nightstand and because he’s too lazy to retrieve them he replenishes them instead. Sometimes there will be a stray ribbon and crescent moon-hair clip if he’s worn it that day, otherwise those accessories are usually shoved in the top drawer. There will be one book on there that will go unread for weeks but never moves, or, if he’s on a reading train there will be a new book every week because he can absorb information fast and tends to get hyper fixated. The books never have bookmarks and are always dogeared which sends Remus into a spiral. A jewellery stand in the shape of an ornate middle finger where he can stack his rings. His wand will be under his pillow for easy access.

Remus’ wand is in the top drawer. He tends to sleep walk/talk and turns out it’s not ideal having a wand so readily available to his subconscious, which they learned through unfortunate events. The drawer also contains a Polaroid picture of him and Sirius that Sirius took haphazardly. His is more orderly, despite being the less coordinated of the two. There are always two books, one that he’s currently reading/annotating, another that he’s lined up to begin. If there’s a mug, it’s on a coaster. The tea is nearly always either green tea or earl grey, he rarely dabbles in other flavours, just likes collecting the fancy ones ‘just incase’. A moonstone, gifted in jest by James as a house warming present to “make him feel more at home”. Reading glasses, always stacked on top of the books with a little lens cleaning cloth folded on top.

I can’t think of anything specific when it comes to what the boys would enjoy watching but I’d say Remus loves a classic romantic comedy, the old school rom-com, and wildlife documentaries. Sirius is more a horror enthusiast, making Remus sit through the goriest shit and explaining why it’s not realistic at all or how it could be ‘done better’.

[weekend-whip]

This is a writing question more than an ask but how do you handle lore dumps???? Your AU is so full of em and you handle them so gracefully. I’m here stuck on a chapter because my MC really really needs to have Information in order to Progress, but having Character B explain it to him is so tedious??? It reads like a rant!! I want the information to flow smoothly for readers, but it needs to be given all at once because it’s Plot Relevant. Any advice is a godsend 🙏

Well, 90% of my "lore dumping" is done via conversation to some degree—whether it be one character happening to be knowledgeable during a particular situation, two characters sharing a personal discussion with each other, or round-robin getting a whole group up to speed on a subject. It just never reads as a "lore dump" because a) there's also character dynamics being dispersed amongst the information, and b) there's more to the scene than just the information itself, even if the information is still the most important part. And that's still true even if dialogue isn't your go-to method for info deliverance!

All right, here we go, spit-balling rambles here!

You can still have Character B outright explain things to the MC, but to avoid it being "ranty", the easiest thing to do would be to have the MC react to what's being said to break up the monotony with how they're feeling about it, or even questions about what's being told to them. And having the MC asking questions has the added bonus of allow different ways for Character B to offer information, instead of going through the points like a check list. Character B could respond to points the MC brings up, questions the MC had the Character B hadn't even considered, the MC mentioning something that jogs something else to mind for Character B to bring up—anything that isn't just "MC, you must know this: [word words words words]". Make sure there's a push and pull, give and take with the information, rather than, well, all push or all give—THAT is what will ultimately help with your flow.

(...though I dunno if the characters are in, like a "time crunch"/urgent situation at this point in time, hence why Character B would be divulging everything at once in a bombshell rant—but if that is the case, at least you'd have the excuse for doing so! That being said, you'd have to counterbalance this by limiting the amount of info that's being given, because otherwise that's going to make the "ranting" even more obvious and harder for a reader to get invested in gfdsgfd)

And also, assumedly, your audience is learning this information just the same as your MC is—think about the questions your audience might consider about the lore too, and use the MC as a way to add those extra clarifications as well! I tend to use Kai for this a lot haha

Or, if you don't want to go the "direct" route via conversation/dialogue and want to switch it up, you could have a mention of the MC learning the info from Character B offscreen, then jump right to them either mulling over everything they've learned to themselves or someone else (flavored up by their own personal thoughts about it) or by them already putting the info into practice with some reflection throughout. This is probably a little less effective strategy for a written story than something like a movie or tv show, but if your first way isn't working out, try restructuring it like this anyway! If nothing else, you can reverse engineer what the most important bits of the info you really want the MC to take away in this instance in time (or at least what's most relevant for the moment/situation at hand), thus shortening the amount of time Character B has to spend "ranting" in the first place. Or, maybe it'll give you another idea of how to frame the information!

Also, try to give a reason for why this information is suddenly being shared right now (again, if this isn't some kind of "MC I have to tell you all this NOW before it's too laaaaate!" kind of scenario. Sure, there's always "you'll need this to progress on your quest" or the overall whatever else may be going on, but think on a smaller scale—what in the moment causes the topic to come up now?

For example –using my own story here because I wrote it and I know my own thought process lmao– Lloyd starts explaining about the Moon's Triad holiday in B2Ch41 because Acidicus comes to him with concerns for how the associated traditions are affecting the Serpentine's plans going forward. Miranda discusses how the Aftershock Ability functions to Jesse in B2Ch45 because Jesse's been trying to figure out why it happened to begin with. And Wu and Garmadon's whole discussion in B2Ch36 is mostly stuff that they both mutually know for the most part —yet is shared regardless for the audience's benefit—but to avoid falling into an "As you know" back-and-forth trap, it's also framed by Wu trying to catch up Garmadon on things he's missed, with their mutual information being used as anchoring context for Garmadon, so it's there for a character purpose as well. Basically killing two birds with a stone there.

Yet when the lore dump is large enough to warrant, like, half a chapter's worth of dedication *eyes B2Ch31*, sometimes you just gotta bite the bullet and go all-in with an outright dump for utmost clarity—but that doesn't meant you can't dress it up or have fun with it! Like, for the Elemental Compass explanation, I literally have Jesse pull out a whiteboard and marker and make everyone sit in a circle to learn sjhgffd–I make fun of the fact that I know this is going to be a big chunk of info to take in for everybody, and using some of the techniques mentioned above, I'm able to break down all my main points I want delivered all while preventing Jesse from just throwing out text blocks in an unnatural, not-fun-to-read fashion. So, that could be an approach for you too!

Ah, how to phrase this...as long as there's dynamism in the deliverance of the information, that'll save it from reading as stale. Even if at the end of the day it really is just two people standing around talking at each other (or one at the other)—if there's action and reactions, emotions, an established point of it all to begin with (as opposed to sudden information for information's sake), and that push/pull + give/take as discussed, you should be able to get your point across in a way that's entertaining for reader's just fine~

Anyway, I hope at least even a sentence of this made sense and was even minutely helpful! Good luck breaking through your block; I'm rooting for you! ^-^)/

[enixamyram]

Had a friend sleep round and we decided to binge watch Blood of Zeus. Here are my thoughts:

Overall, it was good. The animation was a little weird at times (it was like realistic animation but with a touch of comedy movement thrown in every now and then that just didn't fit or their lips moved a little too stiffly when speaking) but it still had some great designs for the characters and creatures.

The story itself was a bit of hit and miss. I liked the general plot and most of the little character moments that happened in between but felt Heron was a pretty boring and unnecessary main character. I feel like we could have done the whole story with one of Zeus' canon sons being the lead (either a god or demi god, it could have worked either way). I also realized that a lot of the things I really didn't enjoy from the show was usually the Hollywood-Cliches/Tropes that were added on. Things clearly done to hype the drama but that either weren't needed or didn't fit with the characters. And I'm not sure if it's because I've read a lot of the Greek Myths and I'm mixing it with these characters but I often found myself siding more with the bad guys than the supposed heroes. Like yeah, Hera's totally psycho but at the same time, good for her telling Zeus to go eff himself!

Speaking of characters: Ares. Let me start by saying I don't actually mind changing up the stories and interpreting the characters in different ways. I think it makes it interesting and different. But it has to be for a good enough reason like a serious plot point or important character development. Ares, in this, is not only totally out of character (he's the one of the few God who was against any form of sexual assault) but he's annoyingly pointless. I literally described him to my friend as an "annoying bully jock" and then saw someone else on here also described him as a "typical jock". Throughout the show, he isn't there to do anything but be an asshole and give the "bastards" a hard time so we can see just how much better they are in comparrison. Again, I don't mind changing things up but it feels very much like people still just think: Ares=God of War, war=fighting, fighting=bad, bad=evil. That's such a juvenile thought process but it's all anyone ever does for him in media. (And you know what, on another moaning note. I hated Ares outfit. Not necessarily the outfit but certainly the color. Puting him in all black because, again, black=bad, just looked awful to me. It sucked and it's the one things in the show that really got on my nerves throughout.)

I will watch season 3 when it comes out, but I don't think it's a show I'll be eager to rewatch anytime soon.

And I'll add here: If anyone has any book/movie/TV show recs about Greek God's and Mythology, please recommend. I am still very much addicted to that subject right now.

[wheeboo]

RANIA !!!!

So I was watching one of jeonghan's live, the one where he explained for the dyson hair dryer he got from scouts, and I suddenly thought of this : what if the reason he was so obsessed by this hair dryer, is because of reader ?? Like he wanted to have this dryer because then reader could style his hair and play with it and dry it for him ??? Like imagine him calling for reader and then waiting ok the bed, dryer in hand and smiling at reader just wordlessly asking for them to come and dry his hair for him. And he loves it so much ???

God I can't anymore how am I supposed to sleep with this in mind now—

OMG ANON THAT IS LIKE... THAT MAKES SM SENSE HELP??? omg he would be so desperate to get one since you've always loved playing and styling his hair and seeing the dryer would be like... your most prized possession fr

lets just pretend we still have his long hair here <;/3

"y/n!! my angel!! sweetheart!!"

"whaaat?" you call from the living room, pausing the drama that you were watching on the tv.

"can you come in the bedroom and help me with something?"

he's either calling you because he genuinely needs you or because wants your attention. it could go either way, but you can't get yourself to resist or else he literally won't let you get away with it next time. and so you stand up from the couch and head in the direction of the bedroom.

"I swear, if you made me pause crash landing on you for-"

what you didn't expect is for your boyfriend to be casually sat at the edge of the bed, a dyson hair dryer in his hand from somewhere--did he just buy one today?--and his hair freshly washed and showered down his head and face. a mixture of surprise and curiosity crosses your face.

he holds the dryer out for you, the corner of his lips curved up teasingly but also... longingly? you approach up to him, taking the dryer out of his hands and inspecting it as if you couldn't tell if it was real or not.

"where in the world did you get this?" you ask him as you run a finger through some of his wet strands.

"cheol bought it for me."

"cheol bought it for you?" you ask him, as if clarifying. and when he gives you another nod, all you mutter out is a, "wow."

you turn on the hair dryer, surprised by how strong it was, before aiming it towards his hair, gently blowing the warm air through his long strands. he tilts his head slightly, letting out a contented sigh as he enjoys the feeling of your touch.

he knows you love playing and styling his hair. and you do it so randomly sometimes--you could be having a movie date at home and he would catch you tugging curiously at his hair, and he would lean in a bit more towards you so you can play with it more.

other times you'd ask him if you can help put his hair in a ponytail, or maybe even braid it, and he always loves walking into work with his hair styled by you and showing it off to his other members. just recently, you even bought some hair accessories you wanted to try out with him.

as the warm air of the hair dryer fills the room along with the fresh scent of his shampoo, you catch sight of the relaxed expression to his face.

"hannie?" you nudge him lightly, earning a low hum in response. "do you think I can use some of those hair accessories I bought yesterday when I'm done with this? I want to try a new look for you."

you see the smile cross his face. "of course, angel."

"yes!" you exclaim victoriously. "but you gotta close your eyes this time. I want it to be a surprise."

missing jeonghan long hair hours right now :(

[vwv-watching-boy]

Michael sleeping with the enemy?

What a wonderful use of a trope that indicates the emotional turmoil a character is going through.

About the loliness and desperation of a character.

I like calling the trope "sleeping with your enemy" and its been a lot more common in modern day media and TV. It's not the most common thing to see in older media. Mostly because modern media isn't as against to showing it. On the top of my head The Witcher did that.

Sleeping with your enemy is in the sense, sleeping with a person who is directly opposed to you in a way that you can never fundamentally trust each other. Both are you are lying to each other, potentially planning to deceive one another, and for whatever reason you are currently working together. And while doing that you decide to sleep together.

I think its such a good juxtaposition between intimacy and betrayal, because sex is one of the most intimate things in media. And to do that with someone who can and will kill you if the truth is exposed, is such a wonderful emotional shorthand.

Its a wonderful way to indicate a character is so desperate for intamcy that they will use the person who is closest to them. It can also be used as a static in the game they are playing with each other. They sleep with each other because they are desperate for intimacy as much as even during that moment they can never fully let themselves be intimate BECAUSE its still a tatic in the enemy game they are playing.

it also adds layer of drama and emotional conflict. between the two characters involved, yes, but also between everyone else who finds out about it. its like "dude. you slept with the person who want to kill."

i say kill. but it can also really just be betray. The trope is tend to be used in higher stress situations as well as TV where characters are supposed to be morally gray or ambiguous. While there may still be a good guy there is the question of "How far will you go for whats right"

Michael in this situation is isolated from everyone he loves and carers about. To quote my mutual. His friends look at him with pity. Fiona told him its over even tho the CIA mission is his way out. His mom will never fully forgive him for Nate's death. He's on the CIA's leash with no way out for the foreseeable future.

And the only person close to him is someone who would kill him and the person he plans on betraying,

And in this moment of isolation he slept with her.

I wish I had a better name than "sleep with your enemy" because i don't believe thats what its actually called. There is a movie called "Sleep with you Enemy" which I personally have never watched (from the reviews isn't really good)

When you do search the trope by that name you'll see media that's closer to either enemy to lovers or star crossed lovers like Romeo and Juliet. Which are lovers who are enemies because of circumstances.

the sleep with your enemy trope is something I would consider you are enemies because of your own personal decisions. And they still chose to do the most intimate things in media.

I wish I had older media on the top of my mind I could draw parrells to but I personally don't have any. As I said earlier I think its a trope you see more in modern media because of the emotional shorthand that is shown between betrayal and intimacy.

I would say it isn't new to media. It 100% would have risen to prevliance as a trope during the film noir era of film because of the genre those movies fell into. Especially movies with femme fatales and the detectives hooking up.

The trope tends to be in dramas, mysteries, thrillers. Shows that have a sense of danger to them.

I guess this is all to say, what a wonderful use of that trope. Bravo to the writers, the actors, the directors. I think it was really well done within the show.

I personally really like the trope. You don't need to sit down for 30 minutes discussing the emotional conflict of characters. You can just have them sleep together and then its all subtext and left unspoken. And now there are layers of drama and stakes added to the show that wasn't there minutes ago.

@jackalopc