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pandorasprongs · 1 year ago

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JAMIE TARTT | call it what you want.

PAIRING: jamie tartt x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 5.7k

SUMMARY: reader's family comes to visit london and she ends up having to hide her relationship with jamie till the final game of the season.

WARNINGS: language, innuendos

A/N: this is technically a sequel to my comfort crowd story that was my first one about jamie, but it can be read as a standalone too! would recommend reading it first since it gives a little backstory to the garden and reader's past relationship. also, you'll probably be able to tell that i rewatched match scene in the finale for a certain scene AHAHAHA i really wanted to show jamie's more affectionate side, so there's def a few cheesy scenes in here! the title is taken from 'call it what you want' by taylor swift

It's midnight when you hear a knock on your door. Any reasonable person would've ignored it and/or hid in case it was some axe murderer. Of course, you knew it wasn't a murderer, just your boyfriend.

"I thought I said you couldn't stay over tonight?" You say when you open the door to reveal Jamie, whose expression quickly turns into a pouty face.

"I know, but I missed you," You playfully roll your eyes, yet are unable to stop your smile. Christ, he could be annoying, but he could also be pretty sweet. Those two balanced each other out.

"Fine, come in, but you can’t sleep here," You take his hand and bring him inside your flat. He plants a kiss on your temple and the two of you settle down on the couch, which for you was a deserved reward.

The reason why you were up so late despite having to work in the morning was that you had been trying to make your place spotless before your brother and his family came to visit the next day. They had already been in England for a few days but were only coming to London now to visit you and to attend the final Richmond match of the season.

"How's the cleaning going?" Jamie asks, as he wraps one arm around you and reaches for the remote in the other one.

"Took five hours, but at least it’s done." You sigh as you settle closer to Jamie. Even if you had warned him not to come over tonight, you still appreciated his presence.

When you started dating, you never expected the football player to be so clingy, but not even a day after your first date, he was already hanging around you every chance he got.

You couldn’t even hide it from the team because the moment Sam caught the two of you arriving at the clubhouse together, that was it for you guys. They were happy for the two of you, though sometimes too happy, especially whenever you had to call Jamie for a physical and they automatically assumed it was code for something.

"How was practice?"

"Good. The team's having a hard time mastering the start though. The timing's always off," He explains about the surprise goodbye performance they were doing for Ted and Beard.

They had been planning it from the moment they heard the news the two of them were leaving for Kansas at the end of the season. Well, right after they all finished processing — through crying, screaming, protesting, and the like — the news.

"You guys will do fine," you take the remote from his hand and start looking for a certain movie. "Plus, even if you fuck it up, I’m sure they’ll love it regardless." That gets Jamie to chuckle and you feel the vibrations from his chest.

"How about this? Let's watch the Sound of Music, so you can try and copy one of the von Trapp siblings!" You suggest as you press play on the movie. Jamie doesn't protest and simply wraps his other arm around you too.

You look up at your boyfriend and suddenly feel a pang of guilt. "I'm really sorry,"

You don't need to explain further because Jamie instantly understands. He kisses you on your forehead, "Stop saying that. I know you don't want your family to know you're dating such a talented football player because you're afraid one of them will try and steal me from you."

You remove yourself from Jamie before playfully pushing his head. "Yeah, that's exactly right." The both of you laugh as Jamie pulls you in again.

You had already explained why you were hiding it from them back when you found out they were visiting. You had already been dating Jamie for a couple of months, but not a single person back home knew.

Most of your family knew about the disastrous way your last relationship ended and you were sure they'd be extra protective about the next guy. As much as you loved being with Jamie and knew he wasn’t that guy anymore, you knew that your football-obsessed family was aware of who he used to be. Stories of the multiple scandals, hook-ups, and rumors of unsportsmanlike conduct throughout the years were the exact reason you were so afraid to tell them. Those were in the past and you knew that, but you weren’t so sure how to convince your family of that, too.

Jamie, true to form as the prick he is, completely understood and never tried to pressure you to tell them. He was even the one to tell the whole team that your brother was coming to visit and they had to, in his words, shut the fuck up about your relationship.

This was probably the last night for a few days you two could comfortably spend together, so you didn't really want to force him away. The two of you just sat there watching a Julie Andrews classic where you'd occasionally hear Jamie sing along to the musical numbers.

It was around 2 am when the movie finished and now, he definitely had to go home. Even then, you had a hard time separating yourself from Jamie, but your rational brain was telling you it would be bad for a secret relationship if your family caught him in the apartment.

"See you tomorrow, yeah?" Jamie says as he opens the front door.

Instead of responding, you plant a kiss on his lips, catching him by surprise. He's quick to wrap his arms around your waist as he reciprocates it. You separate and finally, answer him. "Yup, see you tomorrow." Jamie gives you one last hug and a kiss on the cheek before he leaves your apartment.

You look around your place for a second, seeing if there's anything you need to fix up before tomorrow. Once you assess that it's as clean as it can be, you go to your room and catch some much-needed sleep.

——

When you hear a knock at your door, you drag yourself out of your bed and to the living room. Before you can even twist the doorknob, you hear a voice on the other side, "You should be awake by now!"

"I am!" you respond, as you open the door. You're greeted by the sight of your older brother Frank, your sister-in-law Denise, and their son Gregory.

"Hello, family," you say drowsily, as the three of them envelope you with a hug. Once they let go, you lead them inside your apartment. "How's your vacation so far?"

"Oh, amazing. I get why you moved to Europe," Denise answers, as she looks around your flat. "They have you set up pretty nice here, huh?" She plops down on your couch and pulls Gregory down next to her.

"Yup," you head to the kitchen to make the three of them some drinks. "So, what do you two plan to do while Gregory comes to work with me?" They had already told you ages ago that Gregory wanted to visit the clubhouse badly, but you knew it was also free babysitting.

"Sightseeing mostly," your brother replies, grabbing his cup of tea from you. When you take a seat next to Denise and your nephew, the former leans into you and whispers, "And get into places where 18 and unders can't."

You chuckle and she plants a kiss on her son's head. As they enjoy their drinks, the three of you start catching up. You steer clear of any questions about relationships and instead focus on you being a physical therapist for a football team.

"Do their feet smell?" Gregory asks and you nod your head.

"Extremely, so always remember to wash your feet, okay?" You reply and the 8-year-old gives you a thumbs up and drinks his hot chocolate.

The topic then shifts to the upcoming final game between Richmond and West Ham. You managed to get the 3 of them tickets, — thank you, Higgins, — which they said was the perfect way to end their trip.

"I'll get you some shirts today, too. Gregory's gonna help me pick them out, yeah?" You turn to your nephew who is more than excited to do so.

"Nice," your brother reacts. "I'd appreciate an Obisanya one."

"Yup, and I want a Colin Hughes one if they're available. And of course, this one here," Denise pulls Gregory into a hug, "wants the captain's jersey."

"Will do," you make a mental note, before excusing yourself to get ready for work.

You’re freshening up in your bathroom when you hear your nephew call out to you. "Mom's asking if you have an extra blanket!"

"Check my room!" You hear him go to the room across and as he passes you again, he shouts a quick 'Thank you!'

Once you’re done getting changed, you head back to the living room. All three of them were ready to head out, so you lock up and hail a taxi to the AFC Richmond clubhouse. On the drive there, the seatbelt was practically the only thing stopping Gregory from bouncing up and down in the car.

When you get there, you find some members of the team along with the Director of Football Operations standing front and center near the entrance of the building. You thank the driver and grab Gregory by the hand. You say goodbye to his parents, and since they’re so excited to have some alone time, they don't even bother looking up at the scene in front of them.

"What's all this?" You say as you approach the entrance. Gregory, despite his excitement, was now walking more cautiously, lagging behind you. When they hear your voice, the team finally settles down.

"Well, a little birdie told me that you'd be bringing someone special to work today and so we decided to assemble the Richmond Welcome Committee for him." You stare at all of them in disbelief and your smile grows wider. You find Jamie in the group, whose smug expression tells you exactly who it was.

"Hello there, Gregory," Higgins turns to your nephew and sticks his hand out, who is still hiding behind you. You move to the side and crouch down next to him, so he feels more at ease.

"Hi," your nephew finally speaks up and shakes his hand.

Higgins then bends down to the eye level of your nephew. "Welcome to AFC Richmond! We prepared a little gift for you if that's okay."

Gregory nods his head. Higgins and the rest of the team start doing a drumroll and move out of the way to reveal Isaac, with a personalized jersey. You exhale in disbelief and turn to your nephew.

"What do you say, Greg?" Said nephew was too awestruck by his favorite player to even move.

After a few seconds, he finally ran up to Isaac and hugged his favorite player. The team captain was now the one in shock, but slowly reciprocated it. Gregory then lets go and accepts the jersey from him. The rest of the team moves to crowd the boy and start talking with him. Almost immediately, your nephew transforms from his former terrified state to the life of the party.

You moved to the side to give them space and thank Higgins, who just shook his head. "It's no problem," he started. "Henry doesn't come here that often anymore, so it was nice to do this for another kid." You smile, before noticing Jamie going toward you.

"And here's the little birdie now," Higgins jokes before excusing himself. You see the team busy entertaining Gregory, so you take the chance to plant a kiss on Jamie's cheek.

"If only the tabloids knew how sweet the striker of AFC Richmond could be." You whisper afterward.

"I know, I'm a great not-boyfriend." He continues to show his smug smirk and before you can reply, you notice that your nephew is starting to look for you.

You put enough distance between you and Jamie to seem platonic, "Greg?" You catch his attention and see him already wearing his jersey over his shirt.

"Can we go inside now?" He asks and you nod your head.

You turn back to the "welcome committee," and thank them. "This was so great." They wave goodbye to the both of you — with Isaac giving Gregory a high-five — as they head to the field for training.

Once you're alone again, Gregory turns to you. "That was so much fun!" You laugh at the boy's reaction as you settle down in your office.

For about 2 hours, you had to deal with the boy asking you about every detail of the papers in front of you. Vitals, size charts, diagrams, he was curious about all of it. A part of you hoped that he'd want to talk about something, anything else, but you soon regret wishing that.

"Auntie (Y/N), is Jamie Tartt your favorite player?" You try and hide your shock at the question. He's 8 years old and it's probably an innocent question.

"Yes, he is." You answer honestly and turn your chair to the treatment table where Gregory was lying down. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, I saw you talking to him earlier." He observes, sitting up and looking like he's about to launch into a whole monologue. "And I saw a lot of his jerseys in your room too, so I thought you must be a fan. But you work here, so are you guys close?"

Maybe you should have closed the closet door before sending him in there. You try and keep your calm. "Kind of. I mean I'm close to all of the players, in a way."

If Gregory thinks anything is off, he doesn't show it. Instead, he nods his head and goes back to his comic book as you continue to work on some reports for the players.

Once you finish, you bring Gregory to watch the morning training. His parents were going to pick him up during lunch, so you only had to keep up the charade for just a little longer. The team was doing a few drills when you got there and Ted spots the two of you approaching. He immediately runs over and greets, "Is this the little guy? Hi, I'm Ted."

What was it with dads and shaking little kid's hands? Gregory, already getting used to meeting such famous football personnel, took his hand and shook it as firmly as an 8-year-old could. Jamie was too busy with his drills to notice you there and you’ve never been more relieved about that.

After spending the next hour watching the game from the stands, it was time for lunch and you headed to the car park to find Frank and Denise. You smile at them and hand off Gregory who started telling his parents about his brand-new personalized kit.

You feel your phone vibrate and take it out to find a message from Jamie. secret boyfriend bought secret lunch for a secret date in your office ;)

You chuckle at the message and send him a quick reply before hearing Gregory mention your name. "Auntie's friends with all the players, especially Jamie Tartt. He's her favorite and they're close."

Oh, this child is going to ruin you. You try and stop yourself from overreacting, though you instead end up letting out an exaggerated laugh. "Yeah, I mentioned him being my favorite player, but he seemed to forget that I said I'm also close with all the players, not just Jamie."

Frank seemed to buy it, but you can tell that Denise was starting to pick up on things. She could always tell when you were lying, even before you left for London. After you had broken up with Matt, it took one call before she realized what happened. So it was only a matter of time till she figured it out, but you had hoped you could delay it till after their trip. You wave to the three of them as their taxi left the car park.

You headed back to your office to find Jamie already devouring his pasta. "Hey, I thought this was supposed to be a date?" His head snaps towards you with noodles still hanging out of his mouth.

"I didn't know how long you'd take and I need my carbs." You roll your eyes as you go to the seat across from him. Jamie puts his plate down and brings out yours.

The two of you start talking about the upcoming game this Sunday, to which you bring up your usual 'night before' ritual.

"I thought your family was gonna stay at your flat that night?" Jamie asks, but you just shrug.

"I'll find a way to escape. No way you're going to the garden without me. I'm your good luck charm, Mr. Tartt." You lean towards the football player and playfully narrow your eyes at him. He breaks into a smile and takes your hand into his.

"Yeah, you are." He says softly, and your smile starts to fade. Jamie would never say it out loud, certainly not in the clubhouse where his teammates could hear him, but his nerves always reached an all-time high before a big game. Even after the Man City match and the talk with his mum, you noticed he still felt uneasy in the days leading up to this one.

He was good at hiding it from most people, but over the months, you figured out the small tells that showed he wasn't feeling his best. That's one of the reasons Dr. Sharon suggested he find a safe space, one where he could collect himself before a game, especially like the game on Sunday.

"Hey," You get him to look back at you and squeeze his hand tighter. "You and the whole team are going to dominate. You've already guaranteed a spot in the Champions League, so you’re set for next season. Plus, your beautiful and frankly, awesome girlfriend is gonna be there in the dugout cheering you on."

Jamie pulls you in for a quick kiss as a thank you before you start to fix up the table. He then suggests a rather inappropriate after-lunch activity — "Ay! Call it a motivational activity," — and you have to physically push him out the door for his afternoon practice.

——

It's the night before the match and you were currently arguing with your brother about the sleeping situation.

"Frank, I'll be fine. There's three of you, it's a king-sized bed, and you know I love couches." This time, he gives in. You watch him disappear into your room and after five minutes, you start heading out.

You go down to find a parked car outside, with its owner leaning on the side of it scrolling through his phone. Since you had dinner with family and he got a drink with Roy, the two of you had planned to meet up later than usual.

"Told you I still knew how to sneak out." You say to him, and the moment his eyes land on you, his expression seems to relax. You approach him and ask, "How was hanging out with Roy?"

"Weird, but good," he answered as the two of you got into the car. "Told me he was proud of me."

"That's nice of him. After all those training sessions and him barging on both our doors early morning, you deserve it." You’re reminded of when Roy came to your flat at 4 am after he realized that Jamie wasn't at his own house, which ended with you scolding the coach about it.

You didn't want to make a big deal of it, but you knew how much Jamie appreciated hearing that from someone he looked up to since childhood. Especially with their history back when Jamie first joined the team.

He continued to tell you about what went down, even mentioning how he convinced Roy to go to Keeley that night and finally ask her out again. Though, he admitted he partly did that was so they could finish earlier and he could see you.

You get to the garden and despite visiting it almost every week, you’re still amazed at its beauty. You remember the first time he brought you there before you were even dating. You had been so touched that Jamie was willing to share this place with you that you ended up kissing him right then and there.

Ever since then, you ended up going with him before games, even if the two of you would just sit there in silence and simply take in the surroundings. That's exactly what was happening tonight, with you and Jamie sitting on a bench and just observing the garden.

After a while, you took the chance to look at Jamie without him noticing. He was always the most calm here and you could tell it from his side profile alone. His jaw was relaxed, his eyes were closed and he was breathing steadily.

You suddenly get the urge to admit something. "I'll tell Frank and Denise tomorrow." Jamie looks at you as you repeat, "I'm telling them about us tomorrow, after the game."

The football player breaks into a smile, and you can't help but mirror it. If the two of them could only get a glimpse of the Jamie you knew, who was thoughtful, enthusiastic, and truly kind-hearted, they wouldn't even care about all the dumb stories of the past.

After a little while longer, Jamie drives you home and you give him a quick goodbye kiss before heading back to your flat. You try to be as quiet as possible, turning the knob ever so slowly. You soon realized you didn't have to, as you hear someone clear their throat. You open the door to find Denise sitting on the couch in her pajamas and you freeze. "You went out?"

"Yes," you finally managed to croak out, as you closed the door behind you and leaned on it. "Wanted some fresh air."

"Fresh air? From the car I just saw you get out of?" Denise crosses her arms and you accept defeat. You say nothing as your sister-in-law asks, "Who's the guy?"

"Jamie Tartt," you admit, and her eyes almost pop out of her head.

"Oh shit, you are dating him. I really thought Gregory was just exaggerating things." You roll your eyes and join her on the couch.

You quickly plead, "Please don't tell Frank yet. I promise I’ll tell him after the match. You know, just in case he gets an urge to do bodily harm to my boyfriend."

"Come on, you know he wouldn't actually do that." You tilt your head. She adds, "He probably wouldn't. But fine, I'll keep it from him." You sigh in relief until she starts giving you a look. "So, Jamie Tartt, huh?"

You groan. "Oh God, can we not do this right now? What's wrong with him?"

"Nothing! I just didn't think you'd go for a guy like him. You know, more laidback with a slight douchy vibe."

"He is not a douche!" You're quick to defend Jamie, but now Denise narrows her eyes at you. "Not anymore. He was the one who planned that jersey thing for Greg. Would a douche do something like that?"

"Okay, okay, I believe you. He doesn’t seem like the prick from before." Denise holds her hands up in surrender. "But, I only know that because of how you're acting now." She nudges you on the shoulder and you tilt your head.

"Look, you just seem happier, lighter. Much better than when you were with Matt. I was never going to admit it, but you should’ve ended things after college. Nothing was too toxic about your relationship, but you always looked like you were holding something back."

It was true. It took a few months of not being with him anymore to realize just how many red flags he had. Yes, he was smart, polite, and always knew exactly what to say, but he was also the first to criticize you when you didn't live up to his “standard.” You had convinced yourself that he was only trying to make you better, but in reality, he was just an ass.

Being with Jamie is what convinced you of that. He got you out of your comfort zone to enjoy things, without ever making it feel like he was pressuring you. You did the same for him too, and instead of pushing back like Matt always did, Jamie would actually listen to what you had to say and cared what you thought.

You explain all of that to Denise and at the end of it, you're sure she's starting to see why you fell for Jamie in the first place. "I'm glad you're happy."

You hug your sister-in-law tightly before you both start getting tired. Everyone had to get up early tomorrow, so it was best to get some rest before then.

You're already lying down and tucked into the couch, but you grab your phone and send a quick message to Jamie.

i hope you're sleeping because this is for when you wake up tomorrow. good luck and i know you'll be the best fucking player on the field!

You hit the send button before returning your phone to the table and drifting off to sleep.

——

You had planned on getting to the clubhouse earlier than usual. You had to prepare for the match and your family didn’t want to push through a bunch of people to get to their seats.

But even then, there was already a crowd around the building. Maybe it was because this was your first time working here with the team making it to the finals, but you've never seen that many AFC Richmond fans present.

You had separated from the three of them once they got their tickets and insisted they could find their seats on their own. Because of all the chaos of getting ready and setting up with the whole crowd, you hadn't gotten a chance to check if Jamie had replied or even look for him.

It was only when Will showed up at the dugout saying that Jamie was looking for you did you see him for the first time today.

"I've been waiting for my good luck kiss," is how he greets you and you can only laugh as you embrace him. He met you outside of the locker room, so you avoided all the whistles and 'oohs' from his teammates.

You give him a quick kiss before telling him about last night. You could see his relief when he realized that your sister-in-law did approve of him, which you almost felt guilty about.

Jamie Tartt, world-renowned football player, was nervous about what a relative of yours thought about him.

"I'll tell Frank later. And, if you guys win the game, maybe he won't come after you and injure your other ankle." You remind him and he chuckles, but your straight face is enough for him to take it seriously.

"Shit. I guess we do have to win."

After hearing Ted asking everyone to huddle up, you separate from Jamie and the two of you join the crowd inside the locker room. You with the rest of the physical therapists and Jamie with the players.

You had to admit, you were a bit nervous for the game. You knew the team was doing great, but after their crying session right before the match, you were worried they'd be too teary-eyed to make it through. And in the first half, you were right to be. Despite their efforts, West Ham was ahead much to every Richmond supporter’s dismay.

But after whatever happened in the locker room, they seemed to be picking it up. After those 3 misses, you and the rest of the people in the dugout were ecstatic when Jamie finally scored.

But then it led to a whole different issue. Now, West Ham was focused on marking Jamie. From both a personal and professional standpoint, you were worried. Jamie's ankle could still easily be injured after what happened at Man City and Richmond would lose what was called "their central cog."

You were grasping your medical bag as the game continued, ready at any moment to rush over there. You flinched when Jamie fell to the ground, but when the referee called for a penalty, you knew this was one of his tricks and you sighed in relief.

He looks at you with one of his signature smirks as he's pulled up by Sam. You playfully shake your head and roll your eyes, as the teams get ready for the kick.

And thank God Isaac was able to get it in the net. Well, through it? You could feel Gregory's excitement over it, even if you weren't sure where they were in the crowd.

After eavesdropping on Rupert Mannion ordering his manager to "take out" Jamie, you felt a lump forming in your throat. But at least George still had some integrity, even if you ended up seeing his balls after he gets pushed. As Rupert got heckled off the pitch, Jamie catches your eyes.

He notices your worried expression and gives you a reassuring look. It was his way of saying "Don't worry, you think they can take me out?" You not as the players head back onto the field.

Even then, the players were completely boxing Jamie in, but you watched as Ted signaled a strategy for the free kick which they seem to understand quickly. Jamie's trying everything to get Bumbercatch's attention, but the moment he sends it Sam's way, you know exactly what's going on.

"Go, go, go," You whisper, on the edge of your seat. You're squeezing Will's arm a little too tight, but even he is too immersed in the game to care.

Sam gets the ball in and the whole stadium erupts in cheers. You wait, but when the final whistle was blown, you and Will start celebrating too. The whole team starts running onto the pitch and at that point, you weren't thinking.

The moment your eyes landed on Jamie, you were running across the pitch towards him. He catches you in his arms and pulls you into a kiss. You deepen it as if you weren't surrounded by thousands of people right then and there.

You break apart for a split second to say, "You guys absolutely smashed it. I knew you would win."

He pulls you back for another kiss, before smiling against your lips. "You aren't worried about your brother seeing us?"

The thought hadn't occurred to you at that moment, but you try and find them in the crowd, still not removing yourself from Jamie's grasp. With all the chaos, you give up and just shrug it off, turning back to the football player.

"I don't really care anymore." You admit as you laugh.

Jamie pulls you into a hug and spins you around in the air. You laugh and hold onto him tightly. When he puts you down, you find your family coming toward the two of you. Frank is the only one who seemed shocked by this whole ordeal, with Denise simply smirking and Gregory being distracted by all the people celebrating on the field.

"Right, hi Frank," you start and you slide your hand down from his arm to intertwine it with Jamie's hand to steady yourself. "Did I forget to tell you I have a boyfriend now?"

"Yeah, I don't think it's come up, no," He replies.

Jamie takes a step forward and stretches his other arm for a handshake. "Hello, it's nice to meet you. I'm Jamie—"

"Jamie Tartt, yes." Your brother firmly grasps his hand. "I know who you are." Jamie's legs buckle slightly at Frank's strength, but Denise puts a warning hand on her husband's shoulder.

"Not too hard, honey." which prompts Frank to finally let go of Jamie.

It's a few minutes of silence, — well, as quiet as a celebrating football stadium could be — before you finally try and escape the situation. "Maybe we should let Jamie celebrate with his team!"

"Yes, of course! Congratulations, Jamie! You guys did amazing." Denise says, causing Jamie to flash a genuine smile.

"Yes, you and your team did great," Frank adds on, notably less enthusiastic. "Especially with that last shot from Obisanya." Of course, he had to add his favorite player to this.

You try and pull Jamie away to bring him to his celebrating team, but your brother pulls him into a hug, forcing you to let go of Jamie's hand. You watch Frank whisper something in his ear, before letting go. He then says out loud, "Congratulations on making the Champions League. Can't wait to see you guys play next season."

All Jamie can do is nod in gratitude, as he seems to still be processing what happened before that. You decide to thank him on your boyfriend's behalf.

"See you guys later!" You say to your family as you bring Jamie away from them, his expression slightly worrying you. Once you put a safe amount of distance between them, you whisper, "What did he say?"

"Nothing," Jamie pursed his lips. "Just that he'd make my life a living hell and find a way to ruin my career if I broke your heart." He laughs it off, but you can hear a slight shakiness in his voice.

"Alright then," you interlock your arms with Jamie's, but neither confirm nor deny the truth in his statement.

"That was a joke, right?" Jamie tries to ask but you just shrug. His face almost turns white, but you laugh and instead, he playfully narrows his eyes at you. "That's not funny."

"Well, I’m pretty sure you aren't going to break my heart, so you'll never have to find out. You plant a kiss on his cheek and remove yourself from him. “Now go, celebrate your win!"

You push him to the rest of his teammates, who are in the middle of celebrating, but he's quick to grab your arm and pull you close. "I know how I want to celebrate this win." He moves in for yet another kiss.

You briefly wonder if this is being televised and if it might be how all your friends and family back home find out, but you'd deal with that later. Right now, it's just you and Jamie.

And you've always wanted that celebratory field kiss.

#jamie tartt #jamie tartt x reader #ted lasso #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt fic #jamie tartt fluff #ted lasso fanfic #jamie tartt fanfic

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heartseungs-archive · 4 months ago

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love.fm | h.rj

genre ❥ fluff, angst, coworkers to lovers pairings ❥ radio show host!renjun x fem!reader word count ❥ 7.2k warnings ❥ none author’s note ❥ had this sitting in my wip for a while after rewatching renra on akdong seoul....just thought it would be a really cute idea!!

My love's so young, I'm young, at a sweet age I can't only look at you

As the ‘ON AIR’ sign flickers to life, you pick up the familiar pair of headphones at your seat, colourful stickers decorating the headband to separate it from the rest. The other guys at the station don’t particularly mind sharing headphones, but you find having a personalized one more enjoyable.

Seulgi, your program director, stands behind the glass wall, flashing a thumbs up from where she’s comfortably nestled in her chair. Jeno is just beside her, but he’s much more focused on the music controls, ensuring that it’s broadcasting smoothly. There’s a teleprompter in front of you, but you know you won’t need it. You’ll probably go off script anyways.

Which is why your partner flashes a warning glance at you, and you simply grin. He’s the one who keeps track of time and attempts to stick to Seulgi’s meticulously planned program sheets, reigning you in when you go off tangents.

Huang Renjun has been your partner host for the past year, and the both of you make a good team. A wonderful team, actually, if the listener numbers are anything to go off by. You know it’s partially luck that the both of you got an interesting show to helm, but surely part of it is due to your efforts as well.

Renjun’s dressed in a comfortable black hoodie today, already wearing his reading glasses as he looks over the script. You had teased him for his poor eyesight until he finally caved and bought the white frames that now rest comfortably on his nose.

A cue from Seulgi jolts you out of your thoughts, and you quickly take a sip of water before turning on the microphone. Renjun flashes an encouraging smile at you, even though it’s practically routine at this point.

“Welcome to The Love Club, where we provide a solution towards each and every dilemma you have about romance. It’s your favourite DJ, Y/N, along with Ren-D. I hope your Friday is going good, dear listener, so grab a cup of tea and let us accompany you until midnight!” The words flow out of your mouth smoothly, from weeks upon weeks of practice. Even then, the rush of excitement that fills you each time you speak into the microphone still remains as new as the first day you stepped into the studio.

“Thank you to everyone who sent in their stories! Today, we’ll be discussing the topic of first loves. Our first story is from user jiyeonluv.”

Dear Ren-D and Y/N-D,

I’m Jiyeon, a high-school student. I have a crush on someone in my school, and I really, really like them. But we’re graduating already, and I think we’ll be going to different universities. Should I pursue him?

You hum gently, thinking over your reply. The letter causes a fond smile to make its way onto your face, just from how adorable it is. “I think you should go for it. After all, if both of you really like each other, it’s possible. Besides, it’s better to try and be rejected, rather than not and worry about the what ifs.”

Renjun nods. “Besides, I heard long-distance relationships are the trend now,” he adds.

“I’m not sure where Renjun gets his trends from, considering he barely uses the internet,” you contradict, and Renjun scoffs slightly. “However, I hope everything goes well for you, user jiyeonluv! On that note, the first song of today that we’ll be playing is Young Luv by STAYC.”

“Good job today,” you say, and Renjun quickly returns your tired grin. He pushes open the glass door, you following behind him. Your tote bag lies on the shelf outside the office along with your sneakers, and you quickly put your shoes on, smartphone in hand.

Seulgi and Jeno wave goodbye to you as you leave, both of them already preparing for the next programme. Their schedules run a bit differently from yours and Renjun’s, considering they manage the night programmes until two in the morning. You wouldn’t be surprised if the both of them were almost nocturnal at this point.

The hallway is dim at this time of night, the broadcasting station void of much activity except for the room you just exited. However, there are still footsteps here and there, likely from interns or security patrolling the building.

It’s a short walk from your studio to the carpark, but you’re already shivering by the time you exit the building. It’s coming to fall, and the leaves are already transitioning to shades of autumnal red and yellow.

It’s quickly halted by the feeling of a jacket over your shoulders, however, and you quickly look up at Renjun, a silent protest in your eyes. “Don’t worry. I’ve got a hoodie on. You, on the other hand, should really start remembering to bring your own jacket.”

“I don’t need to, when you lend me one anyways,” you reply, and he huffs a laugh, rolling his eyes.

However, you’re quick to move your hands towards the heating vents of Renjun’s car once you’re inside, sinking into the plush leather seats comfortably.

“You don’t need to send me back, you know. The public buses are still running,” you mutter, your breath fogging up the window. You draw a smiley face on it absentmindedly, watching as the cityscape flies by.

“It’s not that safe. Besides, you’re on the way anyways.” Renjun’s lying, because you know where he lives, and it is most definitely not on the way. In fact, it’s likely added an extra fifteen minutes to his journey home, but you’re not going to protest with him further, especially when the rides are in your benefit.

Even though the both of you are able to continue an entertaining banter throughout the entirety of the radio program, you and Renjun seem to lapse more into silence once alone, likely due to fatigue as well. You suppose it’s also due to the fact that there’s not much need for words to be exchanged for you to feel comfortable in Renjun’s presence, him focused on the road and you with…well, nothing exactly. The drive is always a good time for you to clear your mind, considering Renjun’s careful enough and you completely trust him to get you back home safe.

“See you tomorrow,” he says once the both of you are in front of your apartment building and you wave to him before stepping out onto the pavement, watching as his car gradually disappears down the winding path.

When you reach home, you’re quick to fall into bed, already exhausted. You’ll shower tomorrow, you think, but for now, what you need is a good night’s sleep.

“Well, someone looks cranky.”

“Shut up, Haechan.”

“Even I don’t mess with Jaemin, Haechan. You should be careful,” Mark says, and Jaemin just nods. Haechan sighs dramatically, sinking back into the chair, and his antics are the first thing you see when you step into the office.

“Well, I hope no one’s cranky after what I bought,” you announce, paper bags with recognizable green logos in your hands. Jaemin immediately perks up, looking at you gratefully.

“You’re so much better than Haechan,” he says, a sound of indignance coming from the other boy at his statement.

“Eight shots for you- I don’t know how you actually drink that, by the way, an iced tea for Mark and a latte for Hyuck.” The boys mutter soft thank yous as they take the cups from you, leaving two inside. Your caramel macchiato, and someone else’s-

“Speak of the devil.” Renjun is quick to grab his drink from your outstretched hand, raising a brow at you. It takes a while for you to realise you said it out loud, and your cheeks turn red, quickly shaking your head. “I was just wondering where you were, and you walked in right after,” you explain, and he nods, stealing a sip of your drink before he goes to his seat. You’re used to it at this point, even if Renjun has already gotten his own cold brew. You had been the one to persuade the boy into trying your macchiato a few months ago, to no little amount of effort. After a while, he had caved, but Renjun would never admit that he liked your drink more than his own.

“Today’s meeting is quite important, which is why I asked you guys to meet early.”

“At nine in the morning, no less,” Jaemin mumbles, and there’s barely audible laughter from the other two boys in the room. You had been wondering why Mark had texted the groupchat asking all of you to come down to the office early.

This morning, you had stumbled out of bed groggily when your alarm awoke you, running to the bathroom when you realised you might be late. The coffee had simultaneously been an apology and a distraction, but it ended up not mattering as much, since Renjun had arrived later than you.

“We need to discuss our plans for the second half of the year. If you guys want to revamp your programmes, change something about it, or anything.”

Haechan raises his hand quickly. “I think 37.5MHz should be extended to four hours.”

“No one wants to hear you talk for four hours, Haechan,” Renjun replies, and Haechan looks at him incredulously.

“Just because you can’t appreciate the masterpiece that is my voice, doesn’t mean others won’t-”

“Let’s stay focused, guys,” Mark reminds, but even he’s struggling slightly to maintain a serious expression on his face. The five of you are already familiar with each other at this point, being the ones to host the weekday special programs.

Mark’s in charge of the broadcast from ten in the morning to noon, his programme aptly titled Mark’s Music Space. You had come up with it at a meeting once, and he ended up liking it a lot more than you expected.

At two, Jaemin’s the one in the studio, a cup of coffee always by his side. Which is accurate, you suppose, since his entire programme is cafe-themed. He’s the one in charge of curating most of the playlists for the station, considering how well-versed the boy is in picking songs based on the mood.

Haechan takes over at five with 37.5Mhz, brightening the natural lull of the afternoons with his cheery personality. The boy runs it almost like a podcast at this point, often spending more time chatting than playing music. Still, if his ratings are anything to go by, you suppose there is an audience that he appeals to.

And then at nine, it’s you and Renjun’s turn, with Love.fm. The most interesting program, in your opinion, but you’ll never tell the other guys that, because they’ll definitely begin arguing with you incessantly. Still, you’re proud of how much work you and Renjun have put in, taking hours to plan out your themes and filtering through the listeners’ letters personally.

“Y/N, Renjun. Anything you guys want to change?” You look up at Mark, shaking your head. “I’m happy with the program.” “Me too,” Renjun replies, and you grin at him.

Jaemin lets out a slight chuckle, Haechan right after him, and you cast a pointed glance at the two. “What?” Jaemin quickly shakes his head, expression becoming blank once again. “Nothing.”

You look at Mark’s hesitant expression, and decide to just bite the bullet. “Mark, what is it?” The boy’s expression is stricken as he meets your gaze, and he coughs slightly before continuing. “Oh..um…I was gonna ask if you and Renjun wanted to make Love.fm a viewable broadcast.”

”Why don’t I get a viewable broadcast?”

“Because you post everything on your Instagram already. If I was your fan, I wouldn’t want to see your face anymore,” Jaemin responds, and Haechan huffs petulantly.

“Like….a live stream?” Renjun asks hesitantly, and Mark nods. “Yeah. Your program is already so popular, and I think a lot of the listeners are quite curious about what you guys look like. It would be a good idea for publicity. Of course, you don’t have to do a viewable one every day, it could be once a week, or something,” he explains, and you consider the idea briefly. It isn’t a bad one. You’re not someone who’s particularly afraid of the camera, and neither is Renjun. The idea’s almost exciting, the fact that you and Renjun are something like mini-celebrities because of your programme.

“I’m down if Renjun is,” you say, smiling, and Mark looks relieved, turning to your partner. “Sure,” Renjun says, and Mark claps his hands together. “Great! We can do the first one on Monday? For everyone else, Seulgi’s also discussing with the publicity team about getting us to film additional content, so I’ll keep you guys updated on that.”

You realise now that this is likely Seulgi’s idea, and it makes sense, really. When you had first started the job, you hadn’t expected the listeners to show so much support for their show hosts. Jaemin, Haechan and Mark have something of their own following as well. The five of you have potential as media personalities, and it's obvious that Seulgi’s making good use of it.

“Want to get breakfast?” Renjun asks, leaning over to your seat. “Yes please, I’m starving.” You grab your things and follow him out, waving goodbye to the others in the room.

As you pass by the recording studio, you hear faint voices filtering out of the room.

“Welcome to Chenji’s this….”

“And that!” You immediately recognize Jisung’s baritone and see the two younger boys inside, already rehearsing for their show. “They’ve improved a lot,” you comment, a fond smile on your face as you watch the two.

“I remember when they first joined. Jisung couldn’t even say one sentence without stuttering,” Renjun adds, and you let out a soft giggle. “Well, it’s thanks to you that he’s so good now. Don’t act like you didn’t stay up practising with him.” Renjun’s cheeks redden at your comment, but you know it’s true. Despite his colder exterior, Renjun is caring to the ones closest to him, and has a soft spot for the nervous youngest. It’s something you’ve noticed about him after spending so much time together, his quiet acts of service.

“What are you thinking about?” Renjun asks as the both of you step out into the bright morning sunlight. He looks nice today, brown corduroy jacket over a white shirt and jeans.

“I like your outfit today,” you comment, not catching the way Renjun’s breath hitches, his pulse speeding up just barely.

“Are you just saying this because you want the jacket?”

“No promises.”

When I see you happy Naturally, I'm laughing along I get excited by your actions and toss and turn

Technically, you shouldn’t even be nervous. But you can’t shake the tension that grips you, despite the two cups of hot chamomile that you’ve already consumed. It’s okay, you tell yourself. Today is like any other broadcast, Y/N.

“We just hit fifty thousand listeners,” Seulgi announces, and you sigh shakily, hearing Mark let out a low whistle at the news. You take it back. Today isn’t like any other broadcast. That’s close to double your usual number. Your train of thoughts- more like a nervous trainwreck at this point, really- is brought to a halt by the feeling of a warm hand on yours.

“You okay?” Renjun asks, his gaze warm, and you feel your heartrate slow down slightly. It’s not that you don’t want this- you’re quite excited, to be honest, but there’s also a little fear at the viewers’ reactions.

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” he continues, out of earshot of the people outside. However, you’re quick to pull yourself out of it, shaking your head at Renjun. His concerned gaze doesn’t leave your figure, but you smile at him reassuringly.

“I’m fine. Ready as ever. Seulgi, shall we start?” You ask, and she nods, turning on the cameras. There’s a screen in front of you that shows the comments, but you decide not to look, instead focusing on your script and the camera.

“Hello, everyone! Today is a very special day. As you can see, Ren-D and I are meeting everyone for the first time via live stream.” Renjun waves shyly at that, and you automatically grin, nervousness easing slightly as you fall back into the routine of hosting.

“I feel like someone doing a face reveal,” Renjun points out, and you laugh slightly. “Yeah, me too. Honestly, I was so nervous.”

You’re feeling much better now, and it feels like any other evening in the broadcasting studio, Renjun next to you, script in hand.

“Let me read out our first letter today, from user tyongya.”

Dear Y/N-D and Ren-D,

You have no idea how excited I was for the broadcast today! I wrote this letter because I’ve been in a relationship with someone for two years, but we haven’t told each other we love each other yet. What is love to the both of you?

Thank you for this program, and I’m cheering both of you on!

“Oh…” you trail off as you think over your reply, head tilted. “Wow, that’s a big question,” Renjun comments, and you nod.

“I think love is wanting to see the other person happy, no matter what. Like, seeing them smile makes you smile too. That’s the simplest way I can put it,” you finally state, and Renjun makes a sound of agreement.

“Y/N said it well. If I love someone, I think I would place their happiness above my own. Personally, I would say that loving someone means that being with them makes you want to be a better person, both for them and for yourself.” Renjun’s looking at you as he says it, and his voice takes on a noticeably softer tone. You’re suddenly unable to look at him for some reason, gaze darting downwards to your script nervously.

Once you regain your composure, you continue, even though the back of your neck still feels warm for some reason.

“Yes, don’t forget that self-love is important too, guys,” you say, and Renjun chuckles, causing you to inevitably let out a laugh of your own as well. He’s smiling brightly, and you’re not sure whether it’s because of the excitement of doing a live video broadcast, but you can’t hold back the wide grin that appears resolutely on your features as well.

“Now, our next song is Love, Maybe by Melomance. User tyongya, this is for you. We hope you find love soon!”

“I knew you would recommend Love, Maybe,” Renjun says, a teasing smirk on his face. “It’s a good song!” you defend, and he doesn’t reply, causing you to jab him softly with your elbow.

“Say it’s a good song, or I won’t stop playing it in the car,” you threaten, leaning towards him until your faces are close. Renjun leans back playfully, away from you, and you only lean closer, eyes questioning.

Until your headphone wire gets caught, causing you to stumble forward into his chair. Renjun’s quick to catch you, and you turn to look at him, only realising your faces are a hair’s breadth away from each other when it’s too late.

You’re quite sure you’ve stopped breathing as you look into Renjun’s wide eyes. It seems like forever before he quickly regains his senses and puts some distance between the both of you, standing up from his chair and letting out a nervous cough.

You’re still in a daze, cheeks already reddening with their familiar flush.

”Guys, good job on the broadcast today- are you two alright?” Seulgi glances confusedly at the both of you as she steps in, and Renjun is the first to respond.

“Yeah…we’re fine. What did you say?” He asks, and Seulgi looks rather doubtful, even as she grins at the both of you.

“We broke our viewer record today. And you guys should see the comments,” she adds, handing the both of you her laptop. You scroll absentmindedly, taking a while to focus. There are thousands of them, coming in at a mile a minute even though the broadcast’s over.

Wow….the both of them look exactly how they sound. And I love their voices, so that speaks for itself.

Y/N looks like she could be a celebrity! And Renjun too.

It’s hard to conceal your happy smile at the positive comments, even if it’s shallow to care about your appearance. Renjun catches your eyes, and the previous tension seems to be dispelled. You continue scrolling down, not entirely ready for the next barrage of comments.

The more I think about it, Renjun and Y/N look so good together.

These two are so compatible…I wonder if they’re dating?

Wouldn’t it be so cute if they were a couple? They even run Love.fm together…it’s like something out of a fiction book.

You cough abruptly, cheeks flushing as Seulgi looks at you, concerned. Renjun seems to have noticed them too, handing the laptop back and averting his gaze from where you’re standing. You hear the door open, and realise the midnight news broadcast must be starting soon.

“Right, you guys must be tired. Go home and rest,” she nags, almost pushing the both of you out of the recording studio. You don’t even bother to resist her, thoughts hung up on the comments from the listeners.

There’s an awkward silence that hangs over you and Renjun as the both of you leave the company building, and you fiddle with your fingers, unsure of what to say. It continues even as you enter the car, and Renjun seems to feel it too, for he immediately plays music the moment the both of you get in.

You lean your head against the headrest, occasionally taking quick glances at Renjun when you think he isn’t looking. It makes you feel nervous somehow, as if you’re doing something you shouldn’t.

His profile is soft under the streetlights, silver hair shining brightly even in the darkness. You remember when he had first walked in with it, and you stared at him open-mouthed in shock. It was such a stark contrast from his previous raven black hair, and yet seemed to make his features glow even brighter. The thought makes your heart flutter against your own will. You’re bewildered at the strange feeling, and yet can’t seem to tear your eyes away from the boy.

“You’re staring. Is something wrong?” Renjun’s direct question causes you to sit up immediately, heart rate stumbling. “Nope, nothing,” you stutter out, stubbornly turning your gaze out the car window, just in time for you to miss the amused smile on Renjun’s face.

“Y/N, wait.” Your hand is on the car handle when Renjun halts you outside your apartment building. You turn back to look at him, tote bag already in your grasp. “What is it?” The silver-haired boy falls silent at that, seeming to hesitate over something. You’re patient, however, leaning back into the seat just as you recognise the next song that has started playing through his car speakers.

I'm gettin' really tired of this back and forth Why don't we just give in to this driving force? I mean, there's somethin' between us

The lyrics make your brain short-circuit, and you can’t help but interpret them in the context of the situation, filling your heart with a heady sort of hope as you look at Renjun. It feels like you’re wading into unfamiliar waters, but something tells you to keep going.

“You did well today.”

“Huh?” You’re brought back down to reality, Renjun’s words grounding you.

”You were nervous, but you got through it. I’m proud of you. That’s what I wanted to say, I guess,” he mumbles, and the words are sweet, warming your heart.

“That wasn’t what I was expecting,” you say reflexively, and he turns to you. “Were you expecting something else?” His gaze is strangely searching as he turns to you, almost as if he’s silently beseeching you to say something else as well. However, you’re seized by nerves, and quickly shake your head.

“No, nothing. Thank you, Renjun. You did well today too. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

Even then, you feel a sense of disappointment, but you can’t possibly blame him for your own overactive imagination. It must be the comments getting to your head, you think, as you step out of the car and Renjun waves to you.

Still, you can’t shake the thought of Renjun being more to you, of the both of you being more than just colleagues and friends. It’s never been something that’s come to mind, and yet made glaringly obvious by the events of today. The way you are starting to find it harder to let your eyes stray from his features, the drives home with him becoming the most treasured moments of your day.

The answer’s simple, really. Stupidly simple that you should have figured it out a long time ago, considering the fact that the both of you run a romance advisory programme. You have feelings for Renjun. Not-so-platonic feelings, if the speeding up of your heartbeat in the past few days are any indication.

You only remember the second half of the lyrics when you’re on your sofa, the lyrics of the song that was playing in Renjun’s car.

If I'm on your mind You know that you're on my mind I don't want to fall in love alone

“I don’t want to fall in love alone either,” you say to no one in particular, the only accompaniment being the four walls of your studio apartment. You’re at a loss on what to do with Renjun, haunted by both the endless possibilities and the fear of rejection.

Love is hard when it comes to Renjun, and you’re not sure if all your experience with hosting will have any use.

It’s two days before Renjun sees you in the studio again. On Tuesday, he had been waiting for you outside, before Seulgi had fired a quick text saying you had called in sick.

When you were absent from your seat beside him on Wednesday, there had been a foreign feeling of emptiness in the studio, compounded by the fact that you had yet to reply Renjun’s messages. Even then, he tries to make the program as engaging as possible, assuming that you’re home resting.

It’s not the same, no matter how hard he tries. It’s not the same without you.

By the time you step into the recording booth, Renjun’s positively overcome with worry, ready to jump out of his seat and hug you at the sight of you well and alive. However, he’s not sure if it will overwhelm you. He decides to force himself to stay where he is, fiddling anxiously with his fingers as his eyes follow you around the room. You smile pensively at him when you catch his gaze. In truth, you hadn’t been sick. You were just scared of seeing Renjun, especially immediately after being confronted with the weight of your new feelings.

The introduction passes as usual, and you put in extra effort to make your voice bright and cheery after your absence, knowing that the listeners must have missed you. Even then, Renjun can detect a note of artificiality in your voice, almost as if you’re deliberately trying to present yourself that way. Maybe you’re still feeling sick, he thinks, and feels a pang of guilt for hounding you with his messages. However, he already has medicine in his bag, and a heat pack for you later, just to make sure you recover as quickly as possible.

You’re less talkative than usual today, giving short replies outside of the programme itself. Renjun tries not to let it unnerve him, but he’s not sure how to reach out to you.

“Renjun, can you read the next letter, please?” You ask cheerfully, the way your emotions switch up from lethargic to energetic becoming rather disarming to him. “Oh yes, of course,” he says, panicking slightly as he fumbles with his script, lost in thought.

Dear Ren-D and Y/N-D,

Hello! I’m not sure if you can call me a regular listener, but I’m very familiar with this program. I wrote this letter because of a very big dilemma I have. I think I have feelings for a good friend of mine, who also happens to be a colleague. But confessing might make our relationship awkward, and I don’t want to ruin it for us. At the same time, my feelings are so strong that I don’t know what to do with them.

“This is from user caramelmacchiato,” Renjun adds at the end, and you’re awfully silent as he looks at you, waiting to see if you’ll reply first. When you don’t speak after a while, he decides to go first.

“I think you should go for it,” he encourages, and the only thing he hears from you is a sharp inhale, causing Renjun to furrow his brows in concern.

“Often, we don’t have control over what we feel, or the people we like. I think it’s better to confess first. If he’s really someone you like that much, I’m sure he’s a good person who will understand your emotions, and the friendship won’t break apart that easily,” he continues, and you’re staring at Renjun now, a stricken expression on your face.

“And…for all you know, user caramelmacchiato, your friend just might like you back too.” Renjun’s mouth tilts up in a grin as he says it, his heart fluttering strangely for some reason. It definitely doesn’t help that your gaze is riveted on him, and Renjun runs a hand through his hair self-consciously. You’ve always made him nervous, even if you’ve known him for more than a year.

He quickly remembers that the both of you are on live broadcast, however, Seulgi and Jeno still watching. “Y/N?” he asks, and you shake your head as if clearing your mind from a fog.

“Oh, yes. Good luck, um…user caramelmacchiato.” Your voice is slightly high-pitched and squeaky, and it’s obvious you’re nervous, though Renjun can’t think of a reason why.

“As the night comes to a close, we have one last song for you. This is Fall in Love Alone by Stacey Ryan. Goodnight everyone!” You successfully bring the programme to a finale, and Jeno ends the broadcast.

Renjun’s quick to grab his things and make his way over to you, but you’re two steps ahead of him, almost jumping out of your chair once the microphone is off. He stares at you from where he is, and sees the same confused expression on Seulgi’s face. It’s unlike you to simply just up and leave, especially when Renjun is the one sending you home. And he doubts you have plans after midnight.

When he enters the hallway, there’s no sign of you, and Renjun worries his lip in frustration. He’s not stupid. There must be something wrong, somewhere. He thinks back to each of his interactions with you over the past week, picking each of them apart moment by moment in his brain.

The both of you had called to discuss the live broadcast four days ago, and ended up watching a movie together. And then it was the broadcast itself, where he sent you home afterwards. Where he had been so close to saying something that was on the tip of his tongue, but didn’t.

The next two days, you had disappeared without contact while you were sick.

There had to be something he was missing.

Maybe Saturday? But nothing happened other than the morning meeting. When the both of you had gotten breakfast after you bought him a matcha latte and got yourself a…

“Oh God,” he mutters to himself, the puzzle pieces falling into place. It’s not an entirely plausible idea, and Renjun’s pretty sure he’s making connections based on pure gut feeling. Still, it’s too much of a coincidence. Or maybe it isn’t. The way you’re acting, the song that you chose today to finish the broadcast, they fill Renjun’s heart with just the tiniest bit of hope.

He really has to find you now.

Renjun’s grateful he wore his better pair of sneakers today as he rushes out of the building, eyes scanning the place for your familiar figure.

It’s almost a solid five minutes of his heartbeat thundering in his ears until he spots you, walking in the direction of the intersection, and then he’s running.

Renjun reaches you right as the light turns green, grabbing your hand and causing you to spin around in shock. You’ve got your headphones on, and the sudden disturbance leaves your eyes wide in shock. You don’t even resist as Renjun drags you to a bench, motioning for you to sit next to him.

You guessed he would ask about your odd behaviour eventually. You just didn’t expect it to be so soon. The area is deserted except for the both of you, and Renjun’s still slightly out of breath as he sits next to you.

You don’t dare to look at him. It’s a cloudless day today, and you can see clearly even though there’s barely any lighting, thanks to the moon.

“Well, I’m sure you have something to say-” you start, but you’re quickly cut off by Renjun.

“User caramelmacchiato. That’s you, isn’t it?” His question causes your heart to stutter to a stop, and you’re hoping you heard him wrong. Still, the resounding silence tells you that you heard him exactly.

Honestly, you should probably have picked a better username. You’re kicking yourself for it now, realising you overlooked Renjun’s natural knack for observation. Your silence makes it obvious that he’s right, and the boy next to you lets out a soft sigh, causing your heart to fall slightly.

Your posture is tense, already prepared for the sting of inevitable rejection. “It’s okay if you don’t like me, Renjun, really, I’ll be fine-” you’re cut off by his palm over your mouth, and you stare at him incredulously. Renjun, for his part, looks frustrated, forehead scrunched as he turns to face you.

“Will you let me speak for one second?” He says exasperatedly, and you nod.

“I was right about the friend. He likes you back too,” Renjun mutters, and you stare at him for a few seconds too long before the words sink in. You push his hand away roughly, your lips falling open into an expression of shock.

“What?” Renjun shrugs at the disbelief on your face. “Is it that hard to believe?”

“No, it’s just that the both of us-” You’re quickly silenced again, but this time, instead of his hand, Renjun’s lips are on yours. He’s kissing you, and you’re frozen, eyes wide.

Renjun fills with alarm when you’re unresponsive, and he’s wondering if he’s made a terrible, terrible mistake. He’s just about to pull away, when there’s a tug on his hoodie. You’re kissing him back, and he can hear nothing but his heartbeat.

Renju’s not one for physical affection, but he thinks he might be dreaming. You’re definitely topping the list of people he doesn’t mind being touchy with, and he might just seek it out himself.

It seems like too soon when you finally pull away, but Renjun doesn’t mind. After all, he’s hoping that the both of you have plenty of time, to do….whatever this is. There’s still a tiny part of him, however, that fears the thought of you realising this was a mistake and running away.

That fear quickly disappears when you break out into the most radiant smile Renjun has ever seen, causing him to let out an exhale of relief, and you burst out in giggles at his expression. “What?”

“Nothing. I’m just happy,” you confess, and Renjun’s heart feels so full, so light, as you lean against him.

“I think I liked you the first day you walked into our office. I was just too much of a coward to consider even dating a colleague,” you continue, and Renjun lets a fond smile make its way onto his face.

“If you’re a coward, then I’m an idiot for not realising sooner. Will you let me send you home now?” At your soft nod, Renjun extends a hand out to you, relishing the feeling of your smaller palm in his.

It may have taken a year of waiting, confusion, and a whole lot of running, but Renjun finally has you, and he’s never going to let you go, not if you’ll have him.

“Ren-D, some of our readers are asking about your first love. Do you have any fun stories to share?”

There’s a teasing lilt to your voice, and the only thing preventing Renjun from rolling his eyes is the fact that the camera is currently panned to him.

“No fun stories, unfortunately, but I do have a reader’s letter to share.”

“Oh?”

Renjun clears his throat, feeling strangely nervous.

Dear Y/N-D and Ren-D,

Yesterday, I finally found the courage to chase after someone that I liked, and looking back, I think they might be my first love. I didn’t realise it until they confessed to me first, but I found myself missing their presence unconsciously when they were gone. I think many of us don’t realize how precious someone is until they’re no longer there. Hence, to all the fellow listeners here, I hope that you’ll live without regrets, and bravely chase your first love no matter what!

“Oh,” you exhale softly, eyes wide. The letter was strangely sentimental, heavy for a program such as yours. You can see the comments flowing in, and you’re sure many of them feel the same as you now.

“This person is really good with words,” you comment, and Renjun huffs a laugh, almost like he’s hiding a secret.

“This is from user matchalatte,” he says, and you nod absentmindedly in response, before you freeze, head whipping to look at him. The corners of his mouth are tilted up in a smirk, and you’re staring at him, before realising that the cameras are now panned to the both of you.

There’s heat rushing to your cheeks now, realising that you know who exactly user matchalatte is. Of course it’s him. Only Renjun would think of returning the gesture, just to see your reaction on broadcast.

“Um.” You’re not yet able to formulate words to respond, even though you know that Seulgi and Jeno are likely in the other room watching you both, along with tens of thousands of listeners. Renjun lets out a soft laugh at your starstruck expression, and it causes your heart to skip a beat at his happy expression.

“The next song we have for everyone is Je T’aime by Joy. We’ll be back after the break!” Renjun smoothly takes over your line while you’re still distracted, and embarrassingly enough, it makes you melt even more.

The gentle notes of the starting piano play are audible throughout the studio, and you jolt with familiarity, eyes meeting Renjun’s. You had added this to his playlist while the both of you were drafting the program schedule, and even though he had been ambivalent to the song at first, you found the album sitting on your desk a week later.

Honestly, you should have realised it sooner. That he was the one you wanted to have morning coffee runs and midnight drives with. The person whose playlists you would listen to and whose favourite songs you would save.

Je t’aime. It’s an expression of love, but you don’t think all the languages in the world are enough to describe the way you feel with Renjun. He makes you feel like you’re floating, but at the same time the one who’s grounding you, a tethering force that makes you feel safe.

There’s a consistency to the way Renjun cares for you, the way he makes a space for himself so easily in your life that he feels like home. Having his love has already become a force of habit, one that you never want to break.

The beeping of the timer reminds you that the advertisement break is up, and you’ve managed to regain some semblance of composure externally, even though there’s still a light pink dusting your cheeks.

“Welcome back to Love.fm with Ren-D and Y/N! Today’s a chilly Friday evening, so let us accompany you into the weekend. Send in any romantic worries you have, and we’ll answer each and every one of them,” you start, and narrowly avoid stuttering when a hand encapsulates yours under the desk. You flash a warning glance at Renjun despite your previous nervousness, but the boy simply has a smug grin on his face.

Still, despite his teasing, you’ll gladly give anything to live in these moments forever, him next to you with his headphones on and script in hand.

Stay by my side like a delicate scent I guess I love you, I'm in love I hope this pleasant feeling will never change

41 notes · View notes

slashbitch2 · 3 months ago

Text

Sinful Thoughts- Midnight Mass

Characters: Bev Keane, Father Paul/Monsignor Pruitt

Mike Flanagan's characters are just so interesting that I couldn’t resist writing a little something (expect more as I rewatch all other shows lol.) So here are two short n sweet pieces on Bev Keane and Father Paul.

TW: blasphemy but also like im not religious so idk, swearing, panic attack? Internalised homophobia, mans like a vampire idk how to label that, blood n injury !!

Proverbs 1:7 “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge.”

Beverly Keane had always hated your guts. It made total sense. You weren’t very religious, only attending church on special occasions, and even then, each sermon was a struggle to keep yourself awake. You drank and had fun, flitting between the island and the mainland living your oh-so-sinful life free of repentance.

The only thing that kept you tied to Crockett Island was your parents, who owned the only culinary establishment on the island. It was a simple restaurant that extended from the back of your house, rustic wood interior and a gathering of tables which mostly remained unoccupied. Each dish was cooked in your kitchen, and the door between the two remained usually unlocked, and so the restaurant was as much a home to you as your actual house.

The busiest time was always Friday evenings, in which the majority of the island’s community would flood into the already cramped room in search of drinks rather than food. Without these Friday nights, your family would’ve gone bankrupt years ago. And the island knew this, and thus the island descended. It was routine, one you were grateful for. At 7 pm each day, that door would swing open, a queue of familiar faces following the leader inside.

Whenever you returned home, your parents would insist that you help out, not that you minded, there wasn’t much else to do on Crockett.

The buzz you felt within the room was a rare occurrence on the island. You wove in and out of groups who would stop you to request another drink, or to catch up with how you were doing. Your feet ached from constantly carting drinks from the kitchen to the main room, and your voice was sore from maintaining repetitive conversations above the general volume level, yet you wouldn’t change it for the world.

“Yes, Mrs Scarborough I have missed this. How’s Leeza doing?”

It was so perfectly predictable.

“No, I’m afraid I’m only staying for the week, Mrs Flynn.”

“Such a shame! I knew you couldn’t stay Warren’s babysitter forever, but it feels like we barely see you anymore, Y/N.”

The same conversation over and over.

“Yes, Joe I’ll be with you in a moment.”

Predictable and easy.

“Of course, upon returning to the island, you neglect to join us for Mass.”

Her voice caused you to halt in your tracks, a tray of drinks balancing tentatively on the palm of your hand, the other free to gently nudge people out your way. And yet, Beverly Keane had planted herself directly in front of you.

You swallowed back your mild irritation at her intrusion. “I only got here this afternoon, and unless you’re planning on opening the church doors at midnight, I’m afraid it’ll have to wait.”

Beverley opened her mouth to say something else, but you beat her to it.

“Now, is there anything I can get for you, or are you simply enjoying my company.”

She faltered for a moment, the crease between her brows deepening. “No.” Clutching the coat folded over her arm closer to her chest, she stepped aside.

Normally, you revelled in your ability to rile her up, aggravating her self-righteous attitude to no end. Daresay you looked forward to your inevitable run-ins with Beverly Keane. Yet there was something subdued about her posture today, lacking in how quick she was to surrender.

You smiled at her. Not your usual gloating nor forced politeness, but a genuine smile, and who were you to criticise the concern that might’ve laced your expression.

This didn’t seem to help as her face darkened before she retreated further into the comfort of the crowd, leaving you with the distinct impression that you had done something wrong. The people of this island were outwardly simple beings, relishing their monotonous routine and bragging about the confined safety of their existence, but internally, to survive in such a place like this, each person was a complex puzzle piece fitting together to form Crockett.

And Bev didn’t just survive here, she thrived.

So, God forbid you found her intriguing. It couldn’t be helped.

Upon returning to the kitchen to collect the next round of drinks, you paused to knock back a shot of whiskey, savouring the way it warmed your chest. It had been part of your terms that while working for your parents, you were allowed to drink. They didn’t mind as long as you could stay on your feet, and nobody was here to leave any kind of TripAdvisor review, so there were rarely any consequences to your increasing inebriation.

While you bustled about the room, tending to customers and cleaning empty glasses, you found your gaze seeking her out every time: Beverly, in the corner, chastising Sarah Gunning, likely for her lack of faith, or talking to Wade Scarborough in hushed tones, conspiring about something. On your fourth trip into the heart of the restaurant, you sensed the weight of someone’s eyes burning into your back. Placing down the last two glasses of this round, you swivelled around as you stood up, and there she was, unsurprisingly staring at you with undisguised judgment.

In amongst the crowd, shadows engulfed her, the low lighting of the restaurant only able to reach the shining silver cross hanging from her neck. It shone so brightly, as if it were glowing, and yet this wasn’t what captured your attention. Instead, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from hers, unwavering with a simmering hatred, the passion of which stole your breath away. Your cheeks burned, the whiskey you had been slowly sipping at suddenly rising from the pit of your stomach to your chest.

You felt sick. You needed air. To escape from this cramped environment. To escape her.

Abandoning your post, you pushed past everyone and back into the kitchen, muttering a soft apology to your mother as you excused yourself momentarily. You picked up your leather jacket en route, memory guiding your movement to the backdoor. You threw it open and stepped out into fresh air, taking a gulping breath, and bracing a hand against the external wall of your house.

One thing you missed about Crockett was the constant presence of the sea. It was always near enough to hear each tide crash against the sand, carrying with it the promise that as each wave washed inland, it too would return to sea. Now, with each push and pull of the surf, you breathed in and out, feeling your chest loosen and cheeks begin to cool.

Rather than panicked, you now merely felt foolish at your reaction. Embarrassed. You had let Beverly get to you, something you swore to never let happen. She was a rude bitch. Not just to you, but everyone. A thorn in the side of Crockett. An expected antagonist to your every decision. But she was also part of the routine you had grown to love, a routine that signified you were home. As commonplace as the smell of salty air that invaded your nose, as irritating as the seagulls that cried overhead. She was part of the life you were accustomed to on Crockett- and yet wholly unpredictable.

Unlike the sense of calmness that pervaded home, Beverly brought conflict, like the storms that occasionally frequented the island, washing oddities upon the shore. She was wreaking havoc in your mind even now, despite the sea breeze lulling you into a sense of security. It seemed that you couldn’t escape her, though you tried.

You shivered, wrapping your arms around your form. It was getting colder each evening, emphasising that winter was fast approaching. Soon, you would leave the island, not returning until Christmas, when the cold would tighten its grip upon your home. Festivities would overtake all else during this month, the church confirming its place in the centre of the community with Beverly at the helm and- ah, shit. Your thoughts had drifted back to her so easily.

The sudden desire for the bitter taste of tobacco crossed your mind. It wasn’t something you often indulged in; a bad habit ditched upon arriving at the mainland, but being here was different- and often difficult, so a packet of cigarettes was always your first purchase after stepping off the ferry. Your hands fumbled about your jacket pocket, finding the crumpled packet and lighter. You lit one of the cigarettes, bringing it to your lips and taking a long drag, watching the dry, grey smoke seep out of your nose and into the dark nighttime air.

“That’s a terrible habit.”

The sound of a voice from behind you startled you out of your subconscious state.

It was Beverly, of fucking course it was. Who else would it be? She was standing in the doorway, warm light from your house radiating out all around her, like a halo.

“Your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit within you. You are not your own. So, glorify God in your body.” She announced to the empty sea air as if she were talking to the whole congregation. “That’s from Corinthians 6:19-20, not that you would understand.” Beverly sniped when you didn’t immediately respond.

You sighed and brought the cigarette back to your lips, not finding the effort to deal with her sense of self-righteousness. “I didn’t come out here for a lecture, Bev.”

“Then why are you out here?” She asked casually, as though you were friends, as though you routinely shared anything personal with the woman.

Instead of answering, you fired back, “Why did you?” instantly regretting the harshness of your tone.

Bev shuffled on the spot, standing up straighter, if that were possible. “I wanted to order a drink.”

The absurdity of her response made you scoff, incredulous at the poor excuse. You took another drag from the cigarette to make her sit in the silence, broken only by the crashing waves and the muffled sounds of human activity from inside. “You can wait.” You muttered, loathing the churning sensation in your stomach, which worsened as you saw Bev shift closer out the corner of your eye.

“That’s not very professional.” She pulled a face of mock disappointment, though you saw right through the act. “Am I mistaken or are restaurants meant to have servers?”

“My parents manage without me most the year, I’m sure they can manage an extra ten minutes.” You replied through gritted teeth.

Bev tutted, turning out to stare at the sea. “No, it’s fine I don’t want to be a bother. They seem busy enough.”

You rolled your eyes. She was just trying to get under your skin as always, to make you feel bad for taking a break. What you couldn’t understand, though, was her reluctance to head back inside. She was standing next to you now, staring straight ahead, lost in thought but saying nothing. You even noticed she was shivering, having forgotten to bring her coat out with her.

With the whiskey warming your gut, and the cigarette bringing heat to your chest (though you suspected it wasn’t the sole cause) you no longer felt the chill on the breeze. You exhaled, steeled yourself, and spoke. “You’ll catch your death out here. Do you want my coat? If you’re staying that is.”

Beverly frowned, but the expression didn’t hold her usual frustration or judgment, rather she appeared confused.

It didn’t take much knowledge of Crockett to guess that Beverly wasn’t one to receive such acts of kindness or chivalry often. She had never been well-liked, starting way back at school. She was a few years older than you, and amongst the few young residents attending classes each day, you heard the reputation she held. Beverly Keane has not a friend in the world except those who have no choice but to be nice to her in church, according to anyone you would ask.

“Sure.” Beverly didn’t utter a thanks or spare a smile as you slipped the jacket off your shoulders and passed it over to her. You watched her put it on, your heart admittedly fluttering at the sight. It was so mismatched in comparison to her modest, traditional woollen cardigan.

She stayed staring at you, eyes dark and piercing like she was trying to guess what you’d say next. You didn’t know either, feeling rather adrift in the moment.

“I was sorry to hear about Monsignor Pruitt taking ill on his travels.” There were many riskier things you could’ve said, but you decided to choose the safest option. “I’m sure it’s not the same without him?” You prompted, desperate for her to say something, anything to end the tense silence that had descended.

“It isn’t. They’ve sent a replacement until he recovers.”

You quirked an eyebrow, curious. It wasn’t often the island saw new arrivals. “How’s he doing?”

“Settling in fine,” Bev answered concisely, unwilling to divulge the tendency to gossip that seemed to afflict the community- yourself included.

You made a mental note to ask your parents about the new minister later.

“Are you…” Bev began, then trailed off, as though she were fighting an internal battle whether to pursue a civil conversation with you or not. She cleared her throat. “Is it nice being back on Crockett?”

You had to stifle a laugh at the awkwardness lacing her voice. “I guess so.” For lack of better words, you decided to test how far you could push this newfound civility. “I just ended a long-term relationship, so it’s nice to have that distance from her.”

A muscle in Bev’s jaw twitched, though she didn’t dare to look in your direction. There was a longer pause before she said anything, and you could practically see the gears turning in her head. “It’s not my place to judge who you choose to spend your time with- only God can judge,” she added quickly. “But perhaps some relationships are better left behind, on the mainland.”

You snorted, admiring her ability to avoid what was truly bothering her, but decided to push the topic further. “No need to be jealous. No one ever makes it to Crockett unless it’s serious.”

“I’m not!” The simple statement had been sufficient to rile her up, face flushed and mouth agape as she struggled to hold back whatever it was that she really wanted to say. “What on Earth would make you think I’d be jealous of your sinful existence!? It sickens me that you would even suggest that I-”

“Woah.” You held up your hands playfully. “Calm down, I’m only joking.”

She glared at you, and where you would usually find it intimidating, now it was only amusing to have sparked such a reaction from her.

Your amusement died as she started hurriedly removing the jacket, chucking it at you like it had burned her.

You dropped your cigarette to catch it. “Hold on!”

“I’m going back inside.”

“There’s no need to-“

“And I don’t want to hear any more of your perverted allegations-”

“Wait just a minute. I wasn’t suggesting anything.” You tried quickly to amend, instinctively stepping in front to block her path, and accidentally bringing yourself much closer to her in the process. Close enough to count every freckle dotted across her skin, to see how her hair glowed orange in the warm light emanating from your living room window.

“Move.” She growled.

“I’m sorry.” You replied instead. “That was stupid of me to say. It’s none of my business how you think of my love life.”

You said the wrong thing, again as she moved towards the door, and thus closer to you. “I don’t think anything of it.” She spat, disgusted by the very notion.

Now staring at Beverly with barely a foot between you, you noticed not only details that distance would not permit, but the way her chest was rising and falling heavily, that prevailing dark look in her eyes, which flickered down to your lips and then back up to meet your gaze and softened ever so slightly. Her mouth was downturned as usual, but her lips looked cold and colourless, and oh how you longed to warm her up.

Rather abruptly you realised that it had been too long since either of you had spoken, and while you longed to fill this silence, you found yourself with nothing to say. All you could do was simply stare at her, and more shockingly, she was letting you. No snide comments or snarky remarks, just her eyes, fixed on your face. Waiting. Holding her breath. You couldn’t be the one to end this tension, you both knew that. It had to be her. She had to show you she was certain. She had to-

Beverly closed the distance, lips pressed anxiously against your own. She caught you off guard, and it took a second before your eyes fluttered shut. And then there it was, that feeling again, the burn in your cheeks, the churning in your stomach like the push and pull of the tide. But this time accompanied by the gentle sway of her face in front of yours as she didn’t dare reach out to pull you closer. Her lips were chapped and cold, but soft and chastely seeking out yours. It occurred to you then and there that she probably hadn’t kissed anyone before, and a newfound determination took hold of you.

As she went to pull away, you encircled your arms around her waist, and she let out something that sounded like a gasp. Enticing her closer, you parted your mouth to close over hers, gently sucking her bottom lip, and feeling as she practically melted against you. Cold hands cupped your cheeks, her thumb stroking along your hairline. It was tender, daresay, loving, and over way too quickly.

Beverly was quick to come to her senses and jerked away from you, though her hands stayed holding your face for another beat or two. Her eyes were shining with an open vulnerability, one you longed to soothe, but knew better than to try.

“Bev, I-“

Suddenly the air around you was cold, not in the pleasantly refreshing way you had earlier sought, but cold and empty. Similarly, that dark tenderness in Beverly’s eyes has morphed now, into something akin to hatred, prickling across your skin like jolts of electricity. Your hands dropped from her waist, and she immediately replaced that prior distance between you.

“Y/N Y/L/N, don’t you ever, dare come near me again.” She spat. “Do you understand me?”

You found your mouth inexplicably dry, the words unable to make it past your throat. You nodded instead.

In response, Beverly bolted, leaving only the resounding slam of the door as she fled back to the restaurant. Yet, despite her urgency to escape your presence, you knew this wasn’t over.

Ecclesiastes 12:13 “Fear God and keep his commandments.”

On Crockett Island, there were just two places where someone such as yourself could be truly and totally honest: screaming your deepest secrets into the unmoving, grey sea, or at confessional.

The only problem was that your deepest darkest secret involved said priest hearing said confession, so that wasn’t really an option. And, you see, it wasn’t your only problem either.

Problem number two: the guilt eating you alive from said unmentionable confession.

Even if you were to sit inside the confessional, you could hardly think about him, let alone speak aloud what was bothering you. You didn’t know how to say it, afraid that the moment you voiced your guilt, God might strike you down, banish you from church- or worse, that Father Paul might. And herein lay the route of all your problems: you were a little too fond of Father Paul. He was the deepest darkest secret, your unmentionable confession. You were enamoured with the priest.

How could you not be?

He was the young, new arrival on the island.

The very second he stepped through those doors, you were hypnotised, revitalised, a changed person, one might say, and this was before he opened his mouth and delivered the most moving sermon you had ever heard. And so, you tried to absolve your guilt in other ways, mainly by praying as often as you could and avoiding Father Paul.

Unfortunately, on an island as small as Crockett, this wasn’t always possible.

Earlier in the day, you had bumped into him at the general store… then bumped into a shelf stacked high with products which came crashing down all around you… and finally finished off the most embarrassing interaction of your life by stumbling over your words of assurance that ‘yes, you were fine, and no, he wasn’t at fault at all.’ You were simply insanely smitten by him, though you abstained from saying that last part.

After spending the remainder of your day regretting such a moment, you decided to venture to the church and confess your sins directly to God himself. Remove the confessional part, the middleman, if you will, and confess to the sky above.

The sky was darkening by the time you had summoned up the courage to venture out to the church, the building perfectly deserted for your private confession. As you kneeled down in one of the many empty pews, hands clasped together and lips silently forming blasphemous words, only the sound of the wind whistling outside the church answered your prayers. “Forgive me, God, for I have sinned.”

The whole church was dark and vacant. And silent, most importantly.

“I know this isn’t how these things are supposed to go, but… well…”

Your knees ached against the solid wood floor, a stark reminder that you were not here for the comfort of your God, rather to face your guilt.

“I don’t seek absolution, in fact, I believe that would be impossible.” You chuckled to yourself, awkwardly, as if to avoid voicing what you dared not to dwell on. “But instead, guidance, and the strength to do the right thing.”

Glancing downwards at your hands, you imagined the small gap between them to hold your secret, and thus tightened your grip, reluctant to let it escape.

“Strength to ignore any sinful thoughts I have about…”

The floor creaked anxiously while you shifted about. As uncomfortable as you felt, this was necessary. You would force out the words if that’s what it took.

“About…”

You were interrupted as the doors to the church swung open on their hinges, smashing against the wall and startling you with a loud bang. The torrent of noise didn’t cease as the wind, now howling, swept its way into the building. The weather was worsening outside, yet that wasn’t what concerned you. Unclasping your hands, you swivelled around on your knees to see who had disturbed your solitude and were met with the object of your simultaneously, sinful desires, and most dreaded imaginations.

Father Paul stood in the doorway, his dark coat billowing around him as the wind tugged at its edges. He hurriedly grasped the handle of the door, and battling against the gusts forcing their way inside, pushed backwards until it slammed shut once more. He leant back, out of breath, a dark figure in contrast to the light wooden walls. His eyes, unnaturally sharp and piercing, scanned the empty church before they landed on you, still kneeling in front of the pew. For a beat, neither of you moved, as though the beginnings of the storm raging outside had stilled time within the sacred space.

Father Paul didn’t look surprised to see you in the slightest, though you couldn’t say the same at his intrusion. While the church was a sanctuary from the weather outside, it couldn’t provide shelter from the emotional turmoil within you.

“Oh.” He seemed suddenly to remember that you shouldn’t be here, face morphing into confusion as he stepped forward, boots echoing against the hollow air. “Forgive me, I didn’t mean to interrupt anything.”

You were mesmerised as he approached, tracing the light rain that coated his jet-black hair, and soaked his clothes. To have Father Paul summoned so suddenly, as you were repenting for your feelings towards him was almost unsettling. You weren’t sure whether this could be classed as an act of God, or merely incredibly unfortunate timing on your part.

Father Paul continued to walk forward, stopping next to you. A flickered expression crossed his face, a blink and you would’ve missed it kind of quick, but uncanny- so uncanny that a chill crept its way up your spine.

“No!” You exclaimed, remembering that you ought to respond eventually. “I’m the one that should be apologising, Father.”

“Whatever for?” He asked, expression unreadable and tone casual as he regarded your posture.

Feeling insecure, you slowly stood up, joints creaking from the cramped position. “It’s a rather odd time to be here.” You swallowed hard and smiled, rooted to the spot under Father Paul’s curious glare.

He studied your face, frowning, giving you the distinct impression that he knew more than he let on. That, perhaps, he knew exactly what you were apologising for.

“In God’s house, there is no odd time.” He answered. “You are always welcome here, Y/N.” There was a concern to his voice, genuine and gentle, which only made the guilt gnawing within you more intense. How could you confess to anyone but yourself that the mere sight of him made you question everything you thought you knew, everything important to you, even your faith?

“Thank you, Father.” You nodded, your head remaining bowed as you enjoyed a respite from the intensity of his proximity. To spend time with him felt wrong, and yet, you couldn’t escape the need for more. “I had better get home before this weather gets any worse.”

As the words left your mouth, you risked glancing up at him and were met with the striking impression of anger.

Pure, unadulterated anger. Or no, rather, hunger. An expression of longing you previously would have hoped to have seen reciprocated, yet now felt so violently unsettled by. His brow furrowed, and he stepped closer, a comforting- possessive hand reaching out but stopping short of touching you. “No, stay.” Father Paul implored. “The storm is meant to clear within the hour, and I could use some company.”

You found your mouth inexplicably dry, and simply nodded, accepting his suggestion despite the unnerving energy that seemed to radiate from him. Perhaps, you were just being foolish, and what you felt was a result of your ungodly thoughts rather than any kind of sinister nature to Father Paul. That must be it.

“Let us pray together. “He gestured to the empty pew beside you. “I cannot be the reason for your prayers being left unfinished.”

You chuckled and moved further in, allowing Father Paul to shuffle into the confined space, effectively trapping you. And yet, his body was warm and steady, pressed up against you closer than it needed to be. Still, you couldn’t bring yourself to move away, nor deny the jolt of something- guilt, desire, fear, whatever it was, as it deepened the tempest raging inside of you. This was morally wrong. You couldn’t truly repent when you were so enjoying his company.

Turning your focus forward, you reclasped your shaking hands, trying to ignore the way his presence clouded your mind. Though you couldn’t stop your eyes from darting across, just for a brief beat, but long enough to see his hands mirroring your own in prayer- his fingertips stained a deep red, dried blood underneath his nails.

You gasped. “Father, your hands! Are you alright?” Your arms fell to your side, futile, your gaze locked on the crimson staining his skin, checking to see any visible injuries.

“Oh, no, no…” Father Paul raised his hands before him to calm your panic, bringing that horrifying red into better light. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from it, yet what it signified, you couldn’t understand.

“I’m not hurt.” He smiled, reassuring, your gaze finally relinquishing its hold as you calmed down and looked up at him. He appeared genuine in his reassurance, and perhaps, if you squinted, flattered by your concern for his wellbeing.

“What…that’s blood… What happened?” You stuttered out.

“Just an accident. It really is none of your concern.” He brushed off your worry as if it were nothing, like the weight of it wasn’t pressing down on your chest, making it hard it breathe in the accompanying tension you felt around Father Paul. You were held captive by it all.

“I should…” You flickered between his impassive expression and the stained blood, fighting an internal battle of your own. “I’ll get you something to wash up.”

Before you could stand, the lights blinked and then stuttered out, plunging the church into an abrupt darkness. The storm outside had grown stronger, the wind crying and rain pelting against the walls with relentless force. In this darkness, you felt Father Paul’s presence even more acutely, his breath warm against your face as he leaned in close.

“No, stay,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “Please.”

You were certain. You had no other choice, and thus remained still, unmoving.

Father Paul was staring at you now. In the shadows of the unlit church, you could just about make out his face, his features darkening with the lack of light, and something more, something unspoken. In spite of the gloominess that the power cut had plunged you both into, his eyes seemed to shimmer, a picture of innocence- but it should be impossible, with no light source to reflect off of. In fact, they practically glowed, holding a temptation that, perhaps, wasn’t yours alone to carry. A shared burden of lust.

You edged closer, if only to look deeper at this unnatural phenomenon, hypnotised by the way his iris shone. He echoed this movement, closer to you, and then again, and again, until he was too close for you to focus on anything except his lips. But this was wrong. You squeezed your eyes shut; to take a breath, to regain your composure, to try and escape the hold Father Paul ruled over your senses. But what you hadn’t anticipated in all your sinful hopes and secret daydreaming, was how soft his lips would be as they hesitantly sought yours out.

Father Paul kissed you, so softly, his breath fanning across your face as he sighed. You leaned further, giving in to temptation, savouring the touch. His hand rose to your face, warm but firm, as you fell into his hold. Any thoughts of repentance slipped away from your mind, replaced by a feeling that you hoped would never go away. It was blissful. Nothing existed except you and him.

The solid wooden floor beneath your legs melted away, your cramped positioning becoming somehow not cramped enough. You wanted to be impossibly close, to lose yourself in the embrace.

A sharp pain against your bottom lip dragged you out of this state, followed by a metallic taste filling your mouth as you gasped, tried to pull away from Father Paul. The pain on your lip was hot and white, soothed unsuccessfully as his tongue lapped at the cut. You were uncomfortable, you tried again to pull away, but at some point, his arm had snaked its way around your waist, holding you against him: trapping you. Despite the blood pooling in your mouth, Father Paul was kissing you more fervently, his grip tightening like he couldn’t let you go.

You whined, unable to speak up as he pushed you backwards, his hands firmer and firmer against your cheeks. Gone was the softness, the hesitance, replaced only by discomfort.

Finally, you pressed against his chest with more force than should be necessary, and he parted, falling back into the dark mass of his coat, splayed all around him like a pool of blood. It matched the dark liquid that now coated his lips and oozed down his chin. Your blood.

He had bitten you.

Jumping to your senses, you scrambled to your feet, observing the pure hunger that had taken over Father Paul, afraid that should you look away, he might pounce. Your chest was rising and falling at such a rapid pace that you could hardly control the way your body shook. Tremors reverberated through your mind, as all else screamed at you to run.

Suddenly, a static click and light flooded the church. Your eyes slammed shut, your vision adjusting from near-pitch black to a blinding warmth which penetrated your eyelids in an amber hue. Blinking a few times, you forced yourself to look back at Father Paul, who had raised an arm to cover over his eyes, clearly struggling with the change in lighting as the power returned. But to your utter dismay, this newfound light confirmed your worst fear: your own blood smeared all around his face.

When you needed it most, light had been returned to the church, and thus your senses had returned too. So, before temptation could make itself known to you once more, you turned and ran and didn’t look back.

reminder to self to proofread this at some point lol

#midnight mass #monsignor pruitt x reader #father paul hill x reader #father paul x reader #bev keane #beverly keane #bev keane x reader #beverly keane x reader

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spnfanficpond · 9 months ago

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Weekly Pond Newsletter

It's Daylight Saving Time again in the US! (It's coming for the rest of you soon enough.) Yes, it's that time of year when we lose an hour and all get cranky and have more heart attacks and car accidents. I wonder if we could Tulpa DST away, somehow? Like, if we all just thought about it hard enough all at the same time.... Of course, arranging the "at the same time" part of that would be a nightmare because of, you know, DST and time zones and such.

Old Business:

Poll results - Last week, we asked you all if you would be interested in learning about typesetting or fanbinding, and the answer was an overwhelming YES! We will keep this in mind and work on making this happen!

Monthly Prompt - The monthly prompt post went up and it's all about Sky and Water! Tag us in anything this inspires you to create so we can signal boost it!

Angel Fish Awards - The post for February went up, and the winner of the raffle was @spn-fanfic-reblog-writes!

SPN Rewatch: Fanfic Edition - We had another great chat, this time about the last two episodes in season 1! Check out the Archive masterlist for links to the docs for each episode to read all about it. Remember, if these ideas inspire you to write anything, let us know so we can signal boost it!

#TweetFicTues - Last week's prompts were:

New Business:

Steve Carlson Stageit today - Later today, Steve Carlson will be doing an online concert on Stageit! Click here for more info and to get tickets!

Conventions - AHBL is happening right now in Melbourne, and Creation Burbank is next weekend! So much new content from our cast! If you're attending a con and want to meet up with other Pondies, we have channels in our Discord server for that. Check them out!

Fishing For Treasures - Next weekend is FFT weekend here at the Pond, and the theme for March is CROSSOVER FICS! Drop your links in either the FFT channel in the Discord server or our inbox here by Friday, Midnight, EDT!

Manta Ray chat - Admin Michelle will be spending some time in the Discord server next weekend. Keep an eye out for announcements with the day and time!

St Patrick's Day is next weekend! Give us your favorite leprechaun or otherwise Irish-related fics in the replies and reblogs so we all can celebrate!

POLL - Since so many folks are interested in typesetting and/or fanbinding, and these seem like topics that would require video, would you all be okay with Zoom as a platform for these tutorials?

(Divider by @glygriffe!)

That's all for this week! To see all Pond events, and also other SPN-related things like conventions and online concerts, check out our Google calendar! Click here for a static view in Eastern US/Canada time (desktop only, no mobile app access, sadly), and click here to add our calendar to your own Google calendar! We try to keep it as up-to-date as possible. If there's something you want to see on the calendar that's not there (maybe a convention we missed, cast birthdays, or something similar), send us an ASK and let us know!

Hope you have a great week! - From your Admins and Manta Rays, @manawhaat, @mrswhozeewhatsis, @mariekoukie6661, @thoughtslikeaminefield, @spencereliotwinchester and @heavenssexiestangel!

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whats-9plus10 · 1 year ago

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Venture Bros Time Frame

Based on the Venture Brothers Wiki Timeline and what I could find in the show during my final rewatch before the movie. Like when I calculated Gary’s age, this is not an opinion piece. I pull straight from the source material.

I am not starting from a specific year because we know Venture Bros references current pop culture based on the year each season was released. Various dates documented in the show fail to provide a cohesive timeline. Hence, my focus is on the time frame. I'll be keeping track by noting "Venture Bros Year _" when the series moves into the next year and by referencing years as "000(number of year)" while using dates. I suggest following along with your calendar open like I had to do while organizing this lol.

S1e11 Past Tense - Orpheus predicts that The Action Man will have a stroke in "2 years, 17 days."

We will start pretty late into the first year, Venture Bros Year 1

S1e13 Are You There God, It's Me, Dean - Takes place in late September 0001.

The episode features Monarch's birthday, which is around late September 0001 when, according to him, "the leaves would be orange enough..." to build his Monarch wings.

The Monarch butterfly migration and the leaves turning can begin around late September in New Jersey.

A Very Venture Christmas Special occurs on Christmas, December 25th, 0001, between season 1 and season 2.

While the entire episode was a dream, it was still revealed to be Christmas time. Sally is shown to be pregnant with Rocket. This is important because it solidifies that this episode specifically took place sometime between s1e7 Ice Station Impossible and s2e5 20 Years to Midnight.

Venture Bros Year 2

S2e2 Hate Floats - The boys celebrate their 16th birthday.

S2e5 20 Years to Midnight - This episode takes place May 4th, 0002, "...in Rusty's 44th year." In s1e8 Mid-life Chrysalis, he states his age is 43. Rusty must have turned 44 last month on April 30th, 0002. This means a little over 7 months have passed since s1e13. Rocket was born to Sally Impossible during that time.

This means the boys' birthday is between December 26th - May 3rd. I'm casting a wide net because, for all we know, the episodes in between could have happened just days apart from each other. They live chaotic lives.

S2e11 ¡Viva los Muertos! - Rusty promises the boys will receive something better than their clones as Christmas gifts.

S2e12&13 Showdown at Cremation Creek (Parts 1 and 2) - This episode spans a month between the Monarch's proposal and the wedding.

S3e4 Home Is Where the Hate Is - The boys state that they are still 16 years old "going on 17". That phrase usually indicates a birthday is approaching, but we can't assume anything definitive. What this does tell us is that a full year has not gone by since s2e2 Hate Floats, assuming the boys didn't die again off-screen.

S3e5 The Buddy System - Billy says he is 35. Based on s2e12&13 Showdown at Cremation Creek (Parts 1 and 2), we know that he is 35 at least a month after May 4th, 0002.

Here's where it gets tricky

S3e8 Tears of a Sea Cow - Dean's newspaper is dated May 23rd. I will explore two possibilities.

Possibility 1

Even though I don't feel like the date on Dean's paper is strong evidence as it could be a secondhand thought made up by the animators or a reference to how each season seems to occur in the year it airs, the month of May would line up as the boys had previously told Hatred they were about to turn 17 years old four episodes prior, indicating a birthday was near. If we say we are already in Venture Bros Year 3 and believe the date in the newspaper to be May 23rd, 0003, the boys would already be 17 during this episode because we know their birthday is before May 4th. However...

S3e13 The Family That Slays Together, Stays Together Part 2 - Hank says "...open my Christmas gifts early...." referring to the clones they discovered in s2e11 ¡Viva los Muertos!. Indicating that December 25th, 0002 has not occurred yet.

Possibility 2

What this could mean, other than an oversight, is that it was May 23rd, 0002. This would make the boys still 16 years old. And everything between s2e5 20 Years to Midnight and s3e8 Tears of a Sea Cow takes place all in one month... but that also doesn't work because s2e12&13 Showdown at Cremation Creek (Parts 1 and 2) spans about a month by itself and we see the Monarchs multiple times in various stages of their relationship throughout season 2.

Because acknowledging the date in the newspaper would not work either way, I feel that it's safe to disregard it completely based on the current information we have. I feel more confident in trusting the writing that came directly from Doc and Jackson rather than the animation.

S4e1 Blood of the Father, Heart of Steel - The Nazis give Rusty "8 months" to clone Hitler. During this time Hank grew out his hair, Brock got out of shape and back in shape, and Gary got dieseled. Somewhere during those 8 months, we moved on to…

Venture Bros Year 3

S4e2 Handsome Ransom - Billy says he is 37. If Billy wasn't lying or rounding up, this means at least a year and a day have passed since s3e5 The Buddy System. The boys must be 17 at this point.

S4e5 The Revenge Society - Documenting where this episode takes place for a later reference.

S4e10 Pomp and Circuitry - Brock tells Hank "...you also have to be 18" to dissuade him from joining SPHINX. Confirming that two whole years have not passed since s2e2 Hate Floats.

S4e12 Everybody Comes to Hank's - Hank asks Dean "How was your summer?" hinting that they are approaching the middle to end of summer.

S4e15 The Silent Partners -JJ is in space building Gargantua II. This is information for later reference.

S4e16 Operation: P.R.O.M. - In the commentary, Doc and Jackson use prom to symbolize the boy's unofficial 18th birthday, more specifically their ascent into adulthood. I did not take this to mean it was literally their 18th birthday. The latest their birthday can be is May 3rd and at this point, they are nearing the fall.

S5e1 What Color Is Your Cleansuit? - Takes place the day after P.R.O.M. and spans 3 months. A Very Venture Halloween special takes place in the middle of it on October 31st, 0003. We see Gary raking leaves - Fall. Then the compound is covered in snow - Winter. The weather here is intentional to show the passage of time. It is unclear at this point if we have moved on to the next year. There is no mention of Christmas or New Year's. By the end of the episode, it could be as early as November 0003.

At this point, we are over 2 years and at least 1 month into the series. We started in September 0001 in s1e13 Are You There God, It's Me, Dean and are now sometime past October 31st, 0003. I am keeping in mind Orpheus' prediction of "2 years and 17 days". In the commentary Doc and Jackson state that the Action Man could have considered his health since the prediction which resulted in delaying his stroke.

S5e3 SPHINX Rising - Gary says "Hank is an adult." I took this to mean he had turned 18 at some point. While their birthday may be at the end of December because we had cast a wide net for them earlier, I will assume we’ve moved on to…

Venture Bros Year 4

Here’s where it gets tricky part 2

S5e4 Spanakopita! - This episode should take place in October. Team Venture attended the wedding of Aristotle Onassis and Jackie Kennedy which took place on October 20th, 1968. Another historical event mentioned was the Apollo 7 mission, which took place Oct 11, 1968 – Oct 22, 1968. In the flashback we see Spanakopita aligning with the Splashdown date, October 22, 1968. This is evidence that the dates are intentional.

In this episode we see Hank in his strength suit, confirming that Spanakopita takes place after s5e1 What Color Is Your Cleansuit? and A Very Venture Halloween special. I feel it's unlikely that they intended for a full year to have passed between s5e1 What Color Is Your Cleansuit? and s5e4 Spanakopita!. I want to make this as accurate as possible so I'm going to entertain two possibilities.

Possibility 1

If we say that s5e4 Spanakopita! was not intended to take place in October specifically and it was an oversight, then I feel safe to assume the warm weather we see after s5e1 What Color Is Your Cleansuit? indicates that we've moved onto spring or summer, still in Venture Bros Year 4.

S5e5 O.S.I. Love You - Hank’s limbs atrophied from wearing the strength suit he found in S5e3 SPHINX Rising for “weeks”.

S5e6 Momma's Boys - Hank tells Dermott “Last year…” and references the events of s4e5 The Revenge Society which took place in Venture Bros Year 3.

S5e7 Bot Seeks Bot - This episode takes place in July 0004. We see a flashback in S7e3 Arrears in Science which took place the night before Thanksgiving, November 0004.

S5e8 The Devil's Grip - Dean says a third of his age is 6 - indicating he is probably 18.

All This and Gargantua-2 - Monarch says Rusty “hasn’t paid his electric bill since June.” We know we are in July or August because s5e7 Bot Seeks Bot takes place in July 0004.

Season 6 starts in Venture Bros Year 4, August or September 0004 because we know Dean had applied and enrolled in the Fall Semester. The boys would be 18 years old—3 years since s1e13 Are You There God, It's Me, Dean.

S6e1 Hostile Makeover - Hatred says he's "been waiting to do that (hit Gary) for weeks”, assuming he is referring to the last time he saw Gary in either s5e8 The Devil's Grip.

S6e4 Rapacity in Blue - Takes place on October 7th, 0004. The timestamps are in the top right corner of the security camera videos.

S6e5 Tanks for Nuthin’ - Takes place on October 8th, 0004 the morning after s6e4 Rapacity in Blue.

S7e1 The Venture Bros. & The Curse of the Haunted Problem - This episode takes place the in the days leading up to Thanksgiving, November 0004. We flashback 2 years ago to JJ discovering the Gargantua crash. This implies JJ made this discovery sometime in Venture Bros Year 2.

According to The Art and Making of the Venture Bros. - Rocket is 3 or 4 years old now.

Next, we have a clear time span thanks to s7e3 Arrears in Science. It's Thanksgiving, November 0004. 3 years and 2 months since s1e13 Are You There God, It's Me, Dean.

Time jump to the start of the Spring Semester in s7e4 The High Cost of Loathing, which starts in Venture Bros Year 5, January 0005.

S7e4 High Cost of Loathing - There is a "two months later" time jump at the beginning of the episode.

We are still in Winter Venture Bros Year 5 as of the final episode. In total making the time span from s1e13 Are You There God, It's Me, Dean to s7e10 The Saphrax Protocol 3 years and at least 4 months.

Possibility 2

If we do say it has been another year and s5e4 Spanakopita! takes place in Venture Bros Year 4, October 0004, which means almost everything is pushed back a year. The boys would be 18 years old.

S5e5 O.S.I. Love You - Hank’s limbs atrophied from wearing the strength suit he found in S5e3 for “weeks”.

S5e6 Momma's Boys - Hank tells Dermott “Last year…” and references the events of s4e5 The Revenge Society which took place in Venture Bros Year 3. That would mean this episode would need to take place between October 23rd, 0004 and December 31st, 0004.

Venture Bros Year 5

S5e7 Bot Seeks Bot - This episode takes place in July 0005. We see a flashback in S7e3 Arrears in Science which took place the night before Thanksgiving, November 0005.

S5e8 The Devil's Grip - Dean says a third of his age is 6 - Dean must be 19 at this point and have rounded 6 years and 3 months down to just 6.

All This and Gargantua-2 - Monarch says Rusty “hasn’t paid his electric bill since June.” We know we are in July or August because s5e7 Bot Seeks Bot takes place in July 0005.

Season 6 starts in August or September 0005, because we know Dean had applied and enrolled in the Fall Semester. At this point, the boys would have to be 19 years old. - 4 years since s1e13 Are You There God, It's Me, Dean. Overshooting the 2 years and 17 days prediction by a lot.

S6e1 Hostile Makeover - Hatred says he's "been waiting to do that (hit Gary) for weeks”, assuming he is referring to the last time he saw Gary in either s5e8 The Devil's Grip.

S6e4 Rapacity in Blue - Takes place on October 7th, 0005.

S6e5 Tanks for Nuthin’ - Takes place on October 8th, 0005 the morning after s6e4 Rapacity in Blue.

S7e1 The Venture Bros. & The Curse of the Haunted Problem - This episode takes place the in the days leading up to Thanksgiving, November 0005. We flashback 2 years ago to JJ discovering the Gargantua crash. This implies JJ made the discovery sometime in Venture Bros Year 3 before S4e15 The Silent Partners.

According to The Art and Making of the Venture Bros. - Rocket is 3 or 4 years old now.

Again, we have a clear time span thanks to s7e3 Arrears in Science. It's Thanksgiving, November 0005. 4 years and 2 months since s1e13 Are You There God, It's Me, Dean.

Finally, we have the time jump to the start of the Spring Semester in s7e4 The High Cost of Loathing, which would start in Venture Bros Year 6, January 0006.

S7e4 High Cost of Loathing - There is a "two months later" time jump at the beginning of the episode.

We are still in Winter 0006 as of the final episode. Making the time span in this possibility, from s1e13 Are You There God, It's Me, Dean to s7e10 The Saphrax Protocol, 4 years and at least 4 months.

NOTES AND THOUGHTS

S1e1 Dia de los Dangerous - Presumably this episode takes place on Dia los Muertos, November 1st. Monarch states that he's in Mexico to find his foster parents. Butterflies arrive in Mexico around early November. Because this happened before Orpheus' prediction, it could be plausible that there is almost a year between the first episode and s1e13 Are You There God, It's Me, Dean. It is probably just as likely that Doc and Jackson were not considering keeping to a set time frame until much later in the series.

JJ did not appear in the season 1 Christmas Special. The boys are alive. Rusty was not on his journey running away from the boys' deaths. I wonder if this means s1e13 Return to Spider-Skull Island took place after Christmas. I am also not considering the weather as a determining factor here because I remember hearing about issues with animating different backgrounds in the earlier seasons.

If it helps, I placed the boy’s birthday on the Ides of March (March 15th) to help me keep track of things. It’s both a significant historical date and a 70’s rock band. Plus I wanted them to be Pisces :)

I also stuck the Monarch's birthday on September 30th because that's when Don became Venturion. I think it's poetic.

Doc and Jackson are phenomenal writers and I’m sure if they were to address this in the show they would find a way for it to make sense that we would all enjoy. I had a lot of fun doing this. I love digging deep into my favorite show and piecing together what I find 💛 Go Team Venture!

#I said go team venture but I meant Monarch crew 4 life #This took such a long time I hope it's somewhat accurate #vbros #venture bros #radiant is the blood of the baboon heart #the venture bros #rusty venture #hank venture #dean venture #the monarch #dr mrs the monarch #henchman 21 #gary fischer #billy quizboy #byron orpheus

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harlowhockeystick · 2 years ago

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hiiiiiiiiiiii babes!!!!!!!!!! hope you’re doing well! missed your blurb weekends 🥹 could i ask for prompt call it what you want with well,,, bae <333333333333 lmao. mwah love you and i hope you have a great new year xx

meet me at midnight | contains: fem!reader, implied famous!reader

just wanna say that this is my favorite taylor song. and it fits him so well. would i write a full fic on this? maybe, one day...........maybe.....

it was spread around and speculated that only you and william would last just a few months or so. that you would do that you had done with your past relationships, according to everyone else that is, and it wouldn't go further than a four to five months. but william was different. he made everything better.

though job wise, personality wise, you couldn't be more different. but the famous saying of opposites attract came to be true, you found out. he was the calm when everything turned upside down, he was the sound voice when everything was dialed to eleven. william was there when you thought others would be and they weren't.

"will?" you approached him as he sat on the couch. it was late at night, he had just gotten home not only an hour ago and he was already rewatching the game he just gotten home from. his shoulders were pretty tense; william came home and only muttered a few words to you. he didn't want to talk about the game, and you knew why. it wasn't a pretty game to watch so you can only imagine what it would have been like to play in it.

you sat down on the couch next to him on the couch and he only moved just a little, but didn't take his eyes off the screen. he watched with a tight jaw and a frozen stare, analyzing every single move he and his teammates did on the ice each shift. "honey, you gotta come to bed." you whispered, laying your arm across his shoulders, your hand playing with his hair lightly.

he didn't respond, like he didn't hear you at all. you had only seen him like this a few times, and each time you liked it less than before. but you didn't want to leave him alone, because you too have had nights like these and the last thing you wanted was to be left alone.

it was only during the commercial break that he turned to look at you. you gave him a soft expression, he tried his best to return the same. william studied your face, as if he was trying to figure out how in the world he got so lucky with you.

his eyes traveled down to a necklace he hadn't seen before. it was a light, small gold pendant with his initial engraved in the middle of it. "when did you get that?" he asked, his voice low and quiet. he picked it up off your chest to get a better look at it.

"uh, a couple weeks ago. you were in anaheim. i wanted to see how long it'd take you to notice, apparently it took longer than i thought." you giggled, and he smiled as he studied the pendant.

lightly, he pressed his lips against it with a smile. dropping it against your chest he cupped your cheek with his hand, then pressing his lips against yours. "it looks really good on you, baby."

william then wraps his arms around you and lays his head on your chest. comfortably you lean back against the arm of the couch and wrap yours around him too. sure, he knew how to comfort you and be there for you too when you need him, but you knew how to to the exact thing for him too.

#j's writing #j's midnights weekend #william nylander #william nylander imagine #william nylander x reader #william nylander blurb #nhl imagine #nhl x reader #nhl blurb #hockey imagine #hockey blurb #hockey x reader

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vammppyre · 7 months ago

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WARNING VOLTRON SPOILERS also blurb of thoughts n shit on it <3 basically a public voltron-centered diary entry at this point bc i have nobody to talk to irl so buckle up!!

just finished voltron and i’m fucking SOBBING. i finally started rewatching it a few days ago (kickstarted by a single keith post) when i had watched a few seasons before but not finished; from my scrambled memories of it as i rewatched, i think i originally stopped around season 7 somewhere?

anyway i had gotten to the beginning of s8 earlier tonight but when i got on our beloved hell site for the first time in like ages i went n followed a bunch of voltron tags and got a eensy weensy spoiler (lances markings he gets from allura) and was like GOTTA GO WATCH BC HOW DID THAT HAPPEN

so i binged all of s8 since like midnight and spent half of the last ep SOBBING. and i am NOT a crier. like. thinking they were gonna permanently lose their reality turned on all the fucking waterworks. allura’s sacrifice?? more sobbing. then crying from relief and also sad (allura) when they actually got their reality back. and then

AND THEN

ALTEA IS BACK?? BUT ITS THEIR REALITY??

and like lance is pretty much living there now and like the way he changed so much AND HIS MARKINGS 😭😭😭 like i love klance don’t get me wrong but oh my fucking god. what happened with him and allura. SOBBING. he literally cared for her more than anything and i can’t fucking imagine the shit he went through trying to accept and move forward once she was gone.

the REAL kicker was getting those pics of them all growing up and moving on with their lives. like i’ve fallen in love with all these characters over the last few days and those 8 seasons. i know yall get the end-of-series effect like this bc like come on we all do but we neverrr get a montage like that, at least not in any of the other shows that i know and love.

like wdym pidge is growing up?? and allura’s gone, leaving lance without her while he follows in her footsteps and lives on her planet? and shiro settled down and got a husband???

literally we got like ten minutes max (i don’t wanna go back and look and cry harder) of the rest of the storyline all smushed together and it’s so much and im sobbing anyway

i love this show sm i can’t wait to fully dive into the fandom <3

#voltron spoilers #literally fucking sobbing #voltron #vld #voltron legendary defender #keith kogane #lance mcclain #princess allura #pidge gunderson #pidge holt #hunk voltron #takashi shirogane #shiro voltron #vammppyre's posts

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sandymybeloved · 9 months ago

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okay this is going to be a bit random and tangenty and quite personal and very long but here we go because I am having thoughts.

so I just watched this video about the fandom hating whatever is new. the video itself is fine but the thing is it perfectly described the realisations I had in myself of how I came to a lot of my opinions of Doctor Who after joining the fandom

I have been a Doctor Who fan for borderline my entire life. That is not an exaggeration, "who was your first doctor" doesn't have a clear answer for me, because I have been watching from such a young age it could be any of 9, 10, or 11 depending on how you define it. I was two and a half when the revival started, both my parents were doctor who fans growing up, and watched the revival from day one. My earliest memory of Doctor Who is of Gridlock, but the chances that was my actual first episode may as well be zero. I watched and rewatched every available episode basically from the time my parents first got streaming.

I say all this to emphasise my joining the fandom was extemely extremely secondary to my love of the show. That sounds really trivial, everyone in the doctor who fandom joins because they love doctor who, but the difference for me is the when, I have loved doctor who for more than twice as long as I have been interacting with the Doctor Who fandom.

I was about 13 when I first started interacting with the fandom in earnest, around the time series 9 was airing, mainly through watching peoples reviews on YouTube. I think broadly this was good for me, I was getting something healthy out of them, either they were episodes I had watched douzens of time over the years leaving me with well cemented opinions on them, or for new episodes, because it takes time for people to make reviews, I had had enough time to at least know if I liked them or not. Watching these reviews informed opinions I already held or gave me a new perspective, what they did not do was dictate my opinion

I was 16 when the Chibnall era started, and it was during series 11 that I first started reading peoples opinions on episodes. This was very bad for me. I was not great at knowing why I did or didn't like something. I'd watch something, and to whatever extent enjoy it or otherwise, not immediately, but shortly after, I would go and look at what other people thought, and it was usually pretty negative. I remember it not seeming so at that start, but slowly fandom consesus was worse and worse.

Slowly, it felt like it was wrong to like an episode. Not in any extreme way, I never fell into not my doctor types, i never believed the ratings mattered, but I was at an age and a point in my life where my opinions were easily swayed, if everyone said an episode was bad then surely it must be, unless my opinions had been cemented by time and countless rewatches, it didn't feel like I disagreed, it felt like I was wrong.

[wow okay, that video really got me thinking apparently, for some reason its gone midnight, so I'm going to bed and will finish writing this tomorrow] [okay hi back now]

The problem was very much my own. Shockingly, not knowing why I liked or didn't like something, and immediately going online and reading articulate points about why it was bad was not going to help me understand my own opinions, it was going to make my differing opinions, which lets be real here was just when I liked something, feel incorrect

I think it got so negative so quickly because a similar thing was happening to a lot of people. There was a group of people who were never going to like it, but weren't going to say the real reason because the majority of the fandom didn't think it was inherently bad that the Doctor was a woman now. But if you can find something in the episode that you can legitimately complain about and shout about it loudly enough that it becomes the main talking point for the episode, then a lot of normal fans are inevitably going to come away believeing it, and after enough episodes its the whole era thats bad, not just individual episodes

By the time series 12 rolled around I was going into episodes expecting not to like them, and subconsciously looking for what the complaint was going to be. It may as well have been impossible for me to like an episode, because watching new episodes of a show you love looking for things to hate in it is not going to lead to you liking it

Some things did still break through but not for legitimate reasons, as soon as an episode would end I was on the internet before giving myself a second to form an opinion, if people seemed to like it, I liked it, if people seemed to hate it, I hated it. By opinions weren't being influenced at that point, they were being dictated

I realised something was wrong with the way I was interacting with my favourite show some time before Flux. Timing wise, it must have been during Revolution of the Daleks. I had been watching Doctor Who with my parents all my life, from the time I was old enough for it to be consistently before my bed time, every new episode I watched with them. While my mum has watched every episode since 2005, most of them multiple times, I have long since considered her a much more casual fan than me. We never really talked about episodes and things we didn't like, but we sat down to watch this episode, and she said she expected it to be bad. It was incredibly alien to me and like a great big flashing neo sign screaming at me that something was wrong even though I agreed. If the Chibnall hate was at such a fever pitch and prevelance it had reached my mum what was it doing to me

That was the catalyst that really made me realise a lot of my opinions weren't really entirely my own, and that going into new episodes expecting to hate them and looking for something I didn't like was warping my perspective.

I did make a conserted effort with flux to digest the episodes at least a little bit before seeking out other peoples opinions, but by that point it was sort of too late to save my opinion of the series as a whole. I did end up liking a couple episodes but I was still in a Chibnall bad mindset, if you will. I felt very weird about enjoying any individual episodes, but at least I knew I liked them.

After that, Eve of the Daleks and Power of the Doctor I was able to just enjoy, I reached a point where I was a lot more comfortable disagreeing from time to time, because it felt good to know those opinions were just my own, but my opinions on earlier episodes still hadn't changed

before Power of the Doctor, I tried to rewatch all of the Chibnall era, but I only made it half way through series 11. New episodes I could form opinions on for the first time, but my dislike for series 11 and 12 was pretty deep rooted, every time I watched an episode and came away liking it, it felt like I was getting it wrong, I was watching the episodes incorrectly and coming to incorrect conclusions, because how could I and seemingly everyone else be wrong for years. It also made interacting with the fandom not fun in its own way, If I liked Ryan now, and everyone else was constantly complaining about him, it felt bad

I needed more time and distance, and for everyone elses focus to shift, so its only really since the 60th that I've felt able to actually revisit it with a clean slate to form my own opinions, because everyone is shouting about something else now. And hey I'm almost done with series 11 and I liked most of it

I don't think everyone is regurgitating percieved fan consensus, I don't think its bad to not like the Chibnall era, and I don't think fan consensus is necessarily always wrong, but I do think being bombarded with other peoples opinions before your own has really solidified is a recipe for disaster if you don't do it critically.

Watching that video was very strange, because I have thought about this all before, but seeing someone else describe how they saw a lot of the fandoms opinions on the Chibnall era as regurgitated and not really holding water, and not really meaningfully held was like watching someone grab my teenaged self by the throat and begging them to realise what they were doing and how unhealthy for them it was

umm yeah, I don't know how to finish this, uhhh, critical thought good, blindly accepting popular thought as your own bad

#doctor who #what the hell did I just write and why did it take me several hours #okay #bye

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hollygl125 · 8 months ago

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yo umm i was wondering and couldn't find on google so i think you could help me

the shifts in csi (like day shift, graveyard shift etc) are around which times?

Hello, lovely anon,

First of all, my sincere apologies for not having responded to your query in a timely (or, you know, remotely helpful) manner. Not as an excuse, but as an attempt at an explanation, I will tell you that I have been kind of a disaster person lately (much more so than indicated in the linked post, and even much more so this past fall than now) and don’t always have a ton of control over where my mind chooses to focus.

I should also acknowledge that, while I carried out my fall 2021 CSI rewatch (when I didn’t realize I was subsequently going to care about any of these details) with sort of rapt attention, in my (yes, many) subsequent rewatches I have often skipped scenes or storylines that don’t really interest me (e.g., where neither Sara Sidle nor Gil Grissom is anywhere to be found), and I am almost always doing two or three things at once while watching. So it’s certainly more than possible I have missed some non-GSR details in there.

In response to your question, the two things I can tell you with certainty are these:

The CSIs of CSI have three shifts: day shift, swing shift, and night/graveyard shift (this last being what the lead characters of CSI are generally working). Logic would dictate that, with three shifts and 24 hours in a day, the shifts most likely start (and end) eight hours apart. (I will not, however, state that logic necessarily dictates that the shifts each be eight hours, and I will discuss that more below.)

At the end of “Mea Culpa” (05x09), after Warrick, Nick, and Catherine are transferred from night/graveyard shift to swing shift, Warrick tells Grissom, “Well, I got to get some rest. Swing shift starts at four in the afternoon. That’s a big change.”

Based on the above (and what I will discuss below), the best answer I can give is that the shifts should start at the following times (and end approximately, though not necessarily exactly, eight hours later):

Day shift: 8:00 a.m.

Swing shift: 4:00 p.m.

Night/graveyard shift: 12:00 a.m. (midnight).

(I will also note some contradictory information below the cut, although I don’t know the source of that information.)

But the other thing I will note (and for which I will give some possibly excessive examples below the cut) is that CSI does a pretty terrible job of keeping track of these kind of workplace logistics. You might have thought the writers and showrunners of what was for a time the most popular scripted TV show in the world (or something like that) would have added a few notes to their show bible about workplace logistics (shift times, scheduling, etc.) but . . . nope, not in any way that is apparent to me! (I find wanting to write a story that is compatible with the internal logic of the show and finding there really is no internal logic of the show to be terribly frustrating.)

Shift times:

Okay, to be honest, the first place I looked for an answer to your query was in @addictedtostorytelling’s wonderful meta, both because she is an expert in (among many other things!) these finer details (e.g., dates on documents shown in the show) and because I was pretty sure I had seen a post from her that addressed shift times.

The only post I could find on the topic was this one, in which the asker states that “we know there are 3 csi shifts: day (7am to 3pm), swing (3pm to 11pm) and night (11pm to 7am).” I don’t know the source of information for that statement. (If anyone else knows, I’d be most grateful if you shared in the comments, so I can update this post!) Honestly, it’s more than possible that CSI has given contradictory information on this subject. But the one place I personally know of a shift start time being given in the show is in Warrick’s statement quoted above.

I also did a general google search on shift times (not specific to CSI or even real-world CSI-type employees). The most common answers I saw were days = 8:00 (or 7:00) a.m. to 4:00 (or 3:00) p.m., swing = 4:00 (or 3:00) p.m. to 12:00 a.m. (or 11:00 p.m.), night/graveyard = 12:00 a.m. (or 11:00 p.m.) to 8:00 (or 7:00) a.m.

In this post on Talk CSI, you can see people trying to answer your question way back in 2006, when the show was airing. One board member there noted that their (forensic, as I understand it) agency had three ten-hour shifts (with two hours of overlap at each end). Another noted that, where they worked (also apparently in the forensic context), the shifts were “12:30 to 8:30, 8:30 to 4:30 and 4:30 to 12:30 working 8 hour shifts.” @figsr kindly advised me that in her (non-forensic) experience shifts would have a half-hour overlap for handover.

I have no personal experience with this, but to me also just logically it would make sense for these shifts to have some sort of overlap for handover—so that, e.g., one team can be dealing with their beginning of shift housekeeping (shifts, assignments, memos from upper management, etc.) while the other is still primarily responsible for calls to the field.

Anyway, based on the above, I can’t give a conclusion on exactly how long the shifts are/when they end. But, as for when the shifts start, my best answer is as given at the top.

The other thing I should probably note here is that the CSIs of CSI do not stop working just because their shifts have ended; when they are in the middle of something that needs to be addressed in a timely manner, they tend to keep going, and they seem to work a lot of double shifts. They also apparently help out other shifts sometimes when necessary. (You’ll note that we see them working during the day a lot, but I don’t know how much of that can be attributed to the issue I discuss below.)

Shift times + scheduling + lack of internal logic (i.e., WTF, CSI?!):

As @addictedtostorytelling discusses in the meta I linked above (which I highly recommend reading, if you’re interested in this topic!), CSI doesn’t make much effort to depict the characters’ work schedules in any sort of realistic way, and drawing inferences about the logistics of the their work schedules is kind of a crapshoot.

Here are a few examples of CSI seeming to ignore its own shift times:

In 01x10, Sara’s asleep with her head on the table in the break room. It’s daylight (looks like morning). She wakes up as the kettle starts whistling. Grissom asks, “Did you sleep here?” Sara responds, “I was working till 4:00 a.m.” —> 4:00 a.m. should be their lunch time. None of this makes any sense.

In 07x08, Sara spends her day waiting to testify in court; they never get to her. Afterwards she goes to talk to Grissom in his office; based on the foregoing it must be late afternoon (maybe around 4:30-5:00 p.m.). Grissom has been working on that episode’s case and must have been on shift since at least the night before. He’s now sitting there reading Thoreau, and she tells him, “I won’t wait up.” —> I know he’s traditionally been a workaholic, and maybe they both have the night off, but it always strikes me as odd (and maybe a bit irresponsible?) that he’s still not heading home, given how long he must have been up and the fact that their usual shift time is in probably close to seven hours (and I always imagine him, as supervisor, arriving early).

At the end of 07x18, the TV reporter says that the suspect confessed earlier that day to the murders of the six showgirls. (The TV newscast is supposedly live, and it’s dark outside where the reporter is. He also states, “The families have organized a candlelight vigil that will begin here tonight.”) Grissom brushes a tear off Sara’s cheek then walks her out of the lab with his arm around her/hand on her back. The hallway has dim lighting and is empty aside from someone (not Natalie Davis!) mopping the floors. It’s giving very “end of the day so the lab’s deserted” vibes. —> But it’s literally never the end of the day there! They work the night shift, and the lab is always humming!

Similarly, in CSIV 1x05, Sara and then Grissom as well (“the matched set”) run into their suspect (Martin Kline) while leaving what is very specifically (i.e., with several establishing shots) shown to be a dark and empty lab. (Like, it’s clearly supposed to feel creepy when Kline first confronts Sara and she’s all alone.) —> But, again, the original CSI showed us that place was never dark and empty! It was always humming!

In 08x01, the security guard at the parking lot from which Sara was abducted says that Sara “eats at the veggie place downstairs a couple times a week.” When Catherine asks when she was there that night, he says, “I don’t know, like 7:30, maybe. That’s when she usually comes.” —> Sara eating at 7:30 p.m. is like someone who works a 9-5 job eating at about 4:30 a.m. (I also feel like their working hours are so erratic that, if she were able to pull off anything regular a couple times per week, it would be something regular she could do with Grissom—like maybe sitting down to a nice relaxed home-cooked rather than take-out meal twice per week.)

Shift times aren’t the only issue, though.

In 02x15, for example, Sara’s “Request for Leave of Absence” form states that her work week is “Tue - Sat grave.” Now, I don’t pay much heed to the CSI props department. (They did give us these nonsensical ID cards, after all.) But this would make a lot of sense to me—the CSIs all having a staggered work week, with two regular, consecutive scheduled days off each. Only . . . we don’t ever really see anything like that?

At the end of 03x22, Sara notes that the schedule says Grissom has the night off, and, when he confirms, she then adds, “Me, too.” It certainly doesn’t sound like this is a regular (weekly) occurrence. But in truth I can’t remember ever actually seeing two of our CSIs have the night off together. We almost never see them having a night off at all. Even in 03x03, when we are told Sara had the night off, it’s in the context of Grissom having called her in to work.

(I think there are a very small number of examples of one of the CSIs actually having a night off—e.g., in 03x09, Catherine has a couple days off but stops by the lab to pick something up for Lindsey’s birthday.)

Admittedly, I get this one, because of course the showrunners want for the most part for the whole cast (especially its major players, the CSIs) to be onscreen throughout every episode. So the subject of days off would have to be fudged. But it strikes me as funny that, in 04x12, when Nick is absent for the entire episode, they don’t take the opportunity to show someone having their regular days off; instead, Sara tells us he’s at the “American Academy of Forensic Science convention” (even though it’s about a month early for the AAFS conference).

Another matter that makes no logistical sense to me is the staffing changes that go on during and immediately after season 05.

In the pilot, the graveyard shift is five CSIs (including Holly Gribbs) plus Brass, who presumably does a lot of paperwork. Then Sara takes Holly’s spot and Brass is transferred out, so it’s just five very qualified CSIs (and no wonder Grissom is always behind on his paperwork, with Brass gone).

By season 5, graveyard shift is up to five and a half CSIs, basically, with Greg’s inclusion as a CSI-in-training. Then Ecklie decides to mix things up (i.e., punish Grissom and his pals), and he splits them into two shifts, adding only Sofia (to the graveyard shift). So then graveyard has three and a half CSIs (four once Greg makes CSI I), and swing shift has three CSIs. In 05x11, Ecklie acknowledges swing shift is short a couple bodies and blames budget constraints. But, if swing shift is short a couple bodies, graveyard shift must be short a body, too, even once Greg makes CSI I. How can budget constraints suddenly necessitate them being down that many bodies—especially when by season six Ecklie can somehow justify letting them now have six full CSIs on graveyard shift? Also, we know the swing shift supervisor was transferred to days to replace Ecklie, but what happened to the rest of the previous swing shift?

Now, my petty headcanon would be that the entire day shift save for Sofia quits when Ecklie gets promoted because the thought of him as assistant lab director is unbearable to them, as a result of which he moves the entire swing shift to days and pretends the staff shortages are due to budget cuts. But I find it kind of funny (again!) that, during the fifth season, when CSI really was on top of the world (e.g., ratings, cast winning the SAG award, Tarantino directing “Grave Danger”), the showrunners couldn’t at least have found a couple warm bodies to show up occasionally to round out the swing shift (even if Ecklie was punishing Grissom and his shift by leaving the graveyard shift understaffed). (In 05x16, Catherine is shown talking to three randoms in “forensics” coveralls, one of whom calls her “boss,” but no explanation is given as to who they are, and I think that’s the most we ever see in that regard.)

Anyway, thank you so much for your question, and my apologies for rambling with some of my CSI logistics grievances. My best answer to your question is as given at the top. If you should have another question, please feel free to send it my way—barring any acts of God, etc. (unforeseeable future events), I will most almost certainly be able to manage a more prompt response!

#asked and answered #anon #my thoughts and feelings on the two lovely science nerds #i mean not really so much but that is the only meta tag i have #csi logistics #csi meta #meta: csi

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kylesvariouslistsandstuff · 2 years ago

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Little Things I Dig About 'Puss In Boots: The Last Wish'

This will be an unorganized collection of thoughts, but... Here we go!

Do not read on if you have yet to see PUSS IN BOOTS: THE LAST WISH. Spoilers *ahoy*!

The opening title card alone. A friend pointed this out to me, the whole "This story... Is a Fairy Tale..." graphic. This is **such** a 180 from the other SHREK movies, especially the first SHREK, which opens with a Walt Disney-style book opening, laying down some exposition, and then Shrek himself ripping out a page, wiping his bum with it... That shows just what kind of attitude one movie has towards fairy tales, and what attitude the other one has. It's like this franchise has matured from its early class clown days.

The sword-fighting in the opening action scene is seemingly in sync with 'Fearless Hero', just great timing and animated choreography there.

"Never been touched!"

Puss' battle with the giant gives me major SHADOW OF THE COLOSSUS vibes. He makes that whole ordeal look like nothing, and this was *after* he took on a governor and his soldiers.

The very subtle midnight-to-dawn transition as the giant fight unfolds. For whatever reason, it makes the coffee bit even more clever to me.

The shot of Puss running down the rope holding the bell, in mid-air? A companion piece to "What's Up Danger?" from SPIDER-MAN: INTO THE SPIDER-VERSE. Also the shot of him 360-ing in the air before skewering the giant with his sword... That, too.

Death being visible in the background during the fight has already been pointed out ad naseum, but I want to point out something else... Something that was actually bugging me, until I thought of an explanation... Okay, so... The bell that crushes Puss. The wider end is hanging above Puss, yet when the bell falls? It fell sideways, despite hanging straight down. You know, the open end of the bell was facing downward. If it had detached from the rope and fell on Puss, he could've survived if the ringer didn't hit him... And that position of the bell is visible in the shots of the defeated giant... But since Death was there... Did Death magically make the bell fall that way? It's established that Death is fed up with Puss for not only mocking him, but also not valuing the other lives he lost. So maybe he magically made that bell fall in a way that it could crush Puss? Just to get it over with and not have to wait any longer for that cat to put himself in another potentially deadly situation? Thus leading him to his last life and Death's incentive to finish off Puss once and for all? Maybe?? Or am I nitpicking or looking too into this?

The continuity nods to not only the SHREK sequels, but also PUSS IN BOOTS Uno. The flashbacks Puss has when he encounters Death for the first time seem to imply that the events of PUSS IN BOOTS took place "after" SHREK 2, maybe even SHREK THE THIRD and SHREK FOREVER AFTER... Despite the implication that it was a prequel? I rewatched PUSS IN BOOTS a few weeks ago, and even that movie - sans the flashbacks/Humpty backstory - is rather vague on when it is set. Puss never mentions Shrek, Donkey, etc.... But weirdly, it could possibly take place after SHREK 2 at the very least?

Speaking of the first PUSS IN BOOTS... I'm now willing to know what the geography is of the SHREKverse. Where Shrek's swamp is, Far Far Away, San Ricardo from PUSS IN BOOTS, Del Mar from this movie's opening scene... Like where is everything in relation to one another? Are DreamWorks gonna make some sort of SHREK lexicon or map of the world that tells us more about this stuff?

A nice sense of pace when Puss stays at Mama Luna's place. We even get a passage of time there, which isn't so common in a lot of modern animated movies whose whole storylines seem to be over in 2-3 days.

Papa Bear singing a random ditty while interrogating Mama Luna with her own piano.

The town where Big Jack Horner's factory is: A very grimy and industrial-looking place for a SHREK series locale. It's fascinating even if we see very little of it. Seems like a crumby place to live.

Big Jack Horner's "Wanted" poster... The hell is THAT face?

Ya know, about the "Wanted" posters... I like that the film, despite leaning harder into fairy tales/fantasy than the first PUSS IN BOOTS, retains that Wild West/old-school adventure movie vibe from the first one with the Wanted posters and some of the score. "Fearless Hero" in particular. Like, this is still firmly in Puss' Wild West/Three Musketeers/Zorro/etc. roots.

Horner's quick snaps: "TAKE IT TO THE TROPHY ROOM!" "MAKE WITH THE BOX!" He's probably the most neurotypical character in this thing.

The Serpent Sisters are a lot of fun, especially the not-so-bright-one. Would've liked to have seen more of these two... Oh well, maybe in a prequel/spin-off short. They really reminded me of the twins from HOW TO TRAIN YOUR DRAGON. Hey, maybe DreamWorks could make a Goldilocks/3 Bears prequel where they had run-ins with these sisters.

One of Kitty Softpaw's attack moves is literally grabbing enemies by the insides out their mouths, like she's a dentist or something, and hurling them like they're frisbees. Humans twice her size, even! Her and Puss would've eviscerated Thanos.

Death's sudden appearances throughout the film... He's like the pterodactyl from JOUST, or Bendy from BENDY AND THE INK MACHINE. There is no beating him, and he'll just randomly appear... It's handled so effectively each time out.

Their take on the "cute eyes" scene. With the pushed art style and new approach to the animation, they really, REALLY push this gag for both Puss and Kitty, and even for Perrito when he finally masters the cute eyes.

Everything about the dark forest, really. In my Letterboxd review, I noted how this film was unique to the other SHREK films and the first PUSS IN BOOTS movie, in that it really just took on this very dreamy and airy feel. Something about it felt so ethereal in a way. Again, going back to the title card... It truly felt like a fantasy world, a fairy tale. This, to me, is evident in the scenes of Goldilocks being entranced by the Nostalgic Pines and Puss' confession to Kitty Softpaws when they're climbing a tall tree. Just all the shot compositions and color work and score, it's perfection. This is still a funny and farcical upside-down fairy tale world, but it's markedly different from the other SHREKs because of this.

Much has been written and said about the panic attack scene already, but what I particularly liked was how Puss runs through the woods for a bit, imagining the trees as Death looming. It is very reminiscent of the scene in SNOW WHITE AND THE SEVEN DWARFS when Snow White, upon learning her stepmother wants her dead, runs through the forest and imagines all of the trees as gnarly monsters. Much like the scene in SNOW WHITE, PUSS IN BOOTS 2 doesn't lighten it with comedy or a gag. It is played straight, and Perrito coming to the rescue is not dissimilar to how the forest critters came to comfort a crying, frightened Snow White. Again, a night-and-day difference from how the other SHREK movies covered fairy tales. (And especially how the SHREKs “satirized” Disney's takes on those stories.)

The little song that Goldi, Baby Bear, and Papa Bear break into when approaching the illusion of their old home, dancing in a circle. It's like a nice little moment that those characters have together, establishing their connection and their little family quirks and such. It only lasts like a few seconds, but it's such a charming little moment.

The library card in the book of fairy tales Goldi used to read.

Nice callback to the dance-off from the first PUSS IN BOOTS when escaping Goldi and the bears.

"Oi like the cut of 'is jib!"

Is that an ACE ATTORNEY reference in a SHREK movie?

Such ace economy and pacing in the climactic final battle, with every section carefully thought out and so much being paid off, all the little details. It's just right. Three tones handled down pat, with seamless transitioning between the three: Kinetic action for everyone fighting, intense/scary when Death shows up, and then thrilling and heroic when "Team Friendship" defeat Jack Horner.

I'm sure I'm forgetting a few details, which I'll put on here when they come to me, haha... But yeah, I loved PUSS IN BOOTS: THE LAST WISH.

#puss in boots #puss in boots the last wish #dreamworks #shrek #opinions #unorganized thoughts

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starstruckkittensweets · 2 years ago

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“A Dance with the Devil” | Dabi x Reader

Fandom: My Hero Academia Pairing: Dabi x Reader Words: 6.2k

A/N: This is my very first attempt at writing for a non AoT character, and of course it had to be this guy! On my recent rewatch of MHA to prepare for Season 6 my crush on him was reignited (no pun intended I swear) and now with recent events in the anime and manga I’ve fallen into a hole I can’t seem to get out of. I started this as some basic angst/comfort, but it quickly morphed into something I couldn’t really stop writing. So here’s roughly 6k words of shameless self-indulgent comfort, fluff, flirting, suggestive talk, and awkward pining over some cigarettes and booze. The title’s partially inspired by that “dance with the devil in the pale moonlight” quote, honestly I had a really tough time coming up with a title for this because titles aren’t my thing! But I think it works for what it is. This is also my first time writing for him so I apologize if it’s a little choppy in some places; but I hope you guys enjoy! Oh and happy birthday Dabi you menace to society!

Warnings: mostly SFW, smoking, alcohol consumption, suggestive language, Reader can be very insecure at times, Dabi is an asshole but he tries his best to comfort Reader, this is just very self indulgent and I want to give him a hug and maybe a kiss or two

He’s waiting for you on the rooftop, in your usual spot at the edge. A lit cigarette hanging from his fingertips, flicking the ash down on the city streets below. At the scuffle of your shoes on the stone he shoots you his trademark smirk, motioning to the tiny cooler at his heels.

“About time you showed up.” You give him a shrug as he settles down on the edge with his legs dangling below, practically pulling you down to join him. “Worried you might skip out on me, doll.”

“I had…” Your throat runs dry beneath that burning blue gaze. “…Just had some shit to do.”

He reaches into the cooler and pulls out a beer for himself, before pressing a bottle of cider into your palms. He’s always teased you for your dislike of beer—the way your face scrunches up at the tiniest drop on your tongue, the way it seems to suck out every bit of moisture from your mouth. It took you guys a while to find a drink that didn’t make your insides squirm. Finally settling on a brand of hard cider that was too sweet for his taste, but gave you just the right amount of liquid courage to keep these little midnight trysts afloat.

The bottle opener hanging from your keys trembles against your fingers; you can barely fit the cap into the little slit before Dabi’s hands close over your own, snapping it off in one swift movement. You mumble a quick thanks before tipping back the bottle, hoping to drown out the low chuckle he gives in liquid fire. Or the sight of that damn cigarette barely hanging on between his lips.

“Thought my presence didn’t make you blush anymore,” he croons, and all you can think of is how to make the alcohol work any faster than it already does. “Nice to see it still works, though.”

“It doesn’t…”

But your voice dies in your throat as you nurse the bottle close to your chest, counting the lights of the city sprawled below. It used to be able to calm you down, sitting up here at night, with or without the company of someone else. But tonight it’s different, and no matter how many sips of cider slide down your throat, you can still feel that heavy weight against your chest.

Crushing you until you can barely breathe. Reminding you of just how tired you are, how much of a failure you can be—how much you already are—

“Doll.”

Your jaw tightens when you look over at him. His fingers are already tracing the fabric of your jacket, just above your shoulder.

“…Yeah?”

“You’re quiet tonight.”

“Oh… It’s okay, I’m—”

“Tell me what’s bothering you.”

Oh.

You clear your throat again before raising the bottle one more time. “Nothing’s bothering me, I’m fine. I promise!” It’s the same lie you tell yourself every other day, hoping that just this time, it’ll actually be true. “Nothing you have to worry about, I swear. I’m all—ah!”

His palm is suddenly pressed against the mouth of the bottle, your lips barely brushing over the skin of his knuckles. You yank yourself back as far as you can—with his arm still around you of course—as he plucks the drink from your hands and holds it up to his face. The glass glints against the moonlight, painting his face in a pretty amber shade.

“More than halfway done. You never drink this much this fast. So tell me,” his voice is deeper now, making you tremble all over again, “what’s bothering you?”

Fuck, he’s right! You’re not the fastest when it comes to drinking alcohol—you both know he comes in first in that regard. But from the looks of his beer on the slab of stone beside him, he’s probably had three or four sips tops. And here you are making a fool of yourself, knocking it back like you’re some idiotic girl who’s just gone through her first breakup.

“…I didn’t think you were that observant, Dabi,” you try to brush him off with a laugh, but it only makes him tighten his grip on your shoulder. And then your insides are twisting up again, your fingers itching to grab ahold of something.

Answer him already. He’s caught you, it’s too late to try to save this.

“…Just had a shit day at work… Well, a shit week, more like it.”

But how is that different from any other week at work? It’s always the same, every day rolling by as slowly as possible, little events and annoyances piling up on top of one another until the tears start spilling. Until the weight in your chest becomes too much to handle, and you end up shutting yourself away from the rest of the world to scream into your hands—or a pillow, whatever’s closest to you at the moment.

But it’s not just work—sometimes it’s the neighbors across the hall or next door, others it’s family members with their incessant poking and prodding, or maybe it’s just a random stranger on the street who’s too focused with their own problems to make room for anyone else’s.

Grin and bear it. Be as nice as you can be. Treat others the way you want to be treated. Everyone likes to see a smile, right? So smile until you can’t, until your face begins to ache.

Even if they don’t always smile back.

“I’m just…tired. And I know I shouldn’t be, but I guess I am.” Fuck, why are you even telling him all of this? It’s not like he cares, right?

He’s got more pressing matters to deal with. More important things to worry about, besides your sudden change of mood.

“Sorry, I know I’m being stupid…” Your tongue feels thick against your lips, nails biting into the skin of your palms.

“It’s not stupid if it’s makin’ you this upset.” He drags his thumb below your eye, catching a lone tear before it can fall down your cheek.

No, don’t cry, don’t you fucking start, not now, please not now!

“I…”

You swallow hard and reach for the bottle, whimpering as he holds it just out of arm’s length. You don’t want to feel like this anymore—like you’re a burden, a child, so fucking helpless you have to be coddled.

“One more—just one more sip—”

“Not if you’re gonna suck it all down one go.”

His voice is firm, almost enough to get you to stop reaching for the bottle. But he’s quick to place it down beside his beer, before catching your wrists in his hands. You can’t bear to look him in the eye, instead staring down at the line of staples holding his hands together. Your cheeks are flared up as he leans in close; you can practically taste the smoke on his breath from the cigarette he’s been nursing all night. The same one that’s currently burning on the rim of his beer can, lying forgotten as he brings you close to his chest.

“B-but I—”

“’S fine,” he mumbles, pressing his scarred cheek against your temple.

You snap your mouth shut. What is he doing? He’s never this tender, never one to initiate any kind of touch on his own, unless it’s inherently sexual. The closest you’ve ever gotten was holding hands when the nights got too cold—and he wouldn’t let you live it down as you sat there in your apartment shivering, at least three blankets already wrapped around your shoulders, practically begging for him to warm you up.

He’s never shown any physical interest in you like this, apart from the constant flirting and lighthearted smirks he’s thrown your way over the last year or so you’ve known each other. Never gripped your arms or kissed your cheek or even hugged you. Apart from tugging you down onto the couch and pressing his chest against your back. But you know better than to think there’s more to those touches. You know better than to expect that kind of affection from a man like Dabi.

So then…why now?

With a shaky breath, you squeeze your eyes shut and begin to speak. “I’m just…tired and pissed. Tired of being the only one around here who seems to give a damn. Tired of feeling like nothing I do is good enough—no matter how hard I try. It’s just so…fucking frustrating!”

Your eyes are no longer hot with tears; instead your nails are cutting into your palms, teeth bared against the chill of the night air.

“I try and try and smile as much as I can, but it never gets me anywhere, and I’m just so damn sick of it! And some people only make it worse—no, most people do! But if they don’t really care then why should I? Maybe that’s my fault though, for expecting too much from…”

Your voice dies in your throat when you feel a faint tremble against your fingers. You hadn’t realized that, in the midst of your ranting, you’d grabbed ahold of the lapels of Dabi’s jacket, and now the man was snickering against the top of your head as he cages you in against his chest.

…What the fuck?

“Fuckin’ hell, doll,” he breathes out in a gentle voice, “if I’d known you’d look as hot as you do when you’re pissed off I would’ve ramped it up ages ago.”

Is…is he serious? You roll your eyes and shove him away, nearly knocking over the pair of drinks resting at his side.

“Shut up! I’m practically pouring my heart out and all you can do is laugh, asshole!”

But you’re giggling alongside him, despite everything. It’s weak and pitiful, but at least you’re not crying anymore. And your chest does feel a bit lighter now…

You hold out your hands for the bottle of cider, putting on your best puppy dog pleading face…to no avail as he stubs out his forgotten cigarette and reaches into his coat pocket for a fresh one.

“Don’t know, doll. I don’t want you getting sick or passing out on me.”

“C’mon, just give it to me.” At least the air is less tense. The two of you are back to normal for now. “I won’t pass out, I’ll take it slow. Now give me the drink!”

“Mmm… Dunno.” He slips a second cigarette through his lips and lights it with the tiniest blue flame from the tip of his finger.

“You got it for me in the first place, it’s not like you’re gonna drink it yourself. Now give it to me!”

“You mean the drink or something else? ’Cause I can think of a couple other things to give you right now, dollface.”

“Stop it, you know that’s not what I mean!” You shove his shoulder as hard as you can, eliciting a smug laugh from his lips. “Come on now!”

But then he leans in close—so close you can spot the little rusting staples on the corners of his mouth. “Only if you say the magic word.”

“…You’re joking.”

“Not in the slightest.” And the little upward twitch of his eyebrow pushes you over the edge.

You groan and throw your hands up in defeat. “Such a pain in the ass, fine then! I’ll do it!” Acting like you’re fucking five years old again…

A deep breath fills your chest, as you shift your eyes to meet his own. He takes a drag of his cigarette, blowing a puff of smoke directly into your face.

“…Please? Pretty please?”

“Ooh, I love when you beg for me like that,” he says slyly, and just when you prepare to swat that stupid cigarette right out of his mouth, he’s hovering the bottle of cider over your outstretched palms. “Take it slow. No need to get yourself wasted for the wrong reasons, doll.”

You huff out a soft “thanks” before taking the smallest sip you can muster, well aware of those bright blue eyes on your body. When you’re done you let out a sigh, watching him as he takes another drag, a coil of smoke pooling past his mismatched lips.

“Although,” he continues with a smirk, “I like watching you speak your mind. Should do it more often; let everyone know what you really think of ’em.”

“Ah, I don’t know about that…” You clear your throat when some of the smoke slips past your nose. “I’m not…very good at that.”

“Seemed to be just fine a few minutes ago.”

“Yeah, well…I guess you’re the exception, then.” Unfortunately.

“Aww, I’m flattered.” He presses his hand to his chest, cigarette sealed between his fingers, and holds out his beer in the thin space between you. “So I’m just that special to ya, huh?”

“As if,” you murmur, clinking your drink against his own. “You just know how to push my buttons that much.”

Never mind the fact his face comes to mind practically every day of your life, even when you’re a handful of cities apart. Or the fact you keep the bathroom window unlocked every night just in case he decides to slip in for a quick visit. Or the rolls of gauze and bandages you have stuffed away under the bathroom sink, so you’re prepared if he ever comes in bleeding or burned beyond repair again.

The sly remarks, the taunting tone of voice—even the occasional dirty joke whispered against the shell of your ear. Every little bit of him just grinds your gears and makes your fingers curl. Sends a bolt of heat down your spine until you’re almost sure you’ll pass out…at least until he decides to shift that burning gaze onto something else instead.

“Anyway, how are the others?” Desperate to get his attention off you, despite the tiniest flutter in your chest. “The boss not running you too ragged, I hope?”

He shrugs his shoulders, stretching his arms above his head with a soft groan. The pit of your stomach flares up when the hem of his shirt rides up, showing a sliver of the scarred skin of his abdomen. “Not really, hasn’t been too demanding the last couple weeks.”

“That’s good to hear. At least you have some time to kill between jobs, too.”

“All the more reason to swing by here,” he adds, tapping his drink to yours before taking another sip.

You’re well aware of his less than favorable views of the world you live in, and the profession that comes along with them. It wasn’t hard to piece together; one too many refusals of going to the hospital rather than your tiny apartment when he needed some patching up led you to convince him to cough it up. Not that he shied away from villainous activities in your presence. Just spared you from the details of some of his more gruesome jobs. And at the end of the day, a small part of you is thankful for that, even after all this time.

The two of you slip into easy conversation between sips, a thin trail of smoke hovering over your heads. He keeps the names of his cohorts under wraps, as though they’re not blasted over the evening news every other day or so. You’ve only had the pleasure of meeting Toga, after she stubbornly—and not so stealthily—followed Dabi to one of your nightly meetups on this very rooftop. She’s not so bad, once you look past the sharpened blades strapped around her waist and thighs. A bit hyper and outgoing, but she can be a lot of fun to hang around with.

She’s always begging you to spend a girls’ night with her to talk about boys, but you know you’ll never hear the end of it from Dabi if you agreed—meeting up with a dangerous villain on your own, knowing full well they could kill you at any moment, and everything along those lines. He fails to see any irony in this; when you asked him about it one night, he simply slung his arm around your shoulders and pulled you in close.

“You said it yourself, doll, I’m the only exception around here.”

Still, once in a while you’ll get a text from an unknown number (probably one of those burner phones Dabi’s always using), and you’ll end up spending the rest of the night talking to Toga. She’s a great listener, too—and a master at keeping secrets. Even without the threat of a fiery demise, she’s promised not to spill to the rest of their little band about your relationship with Dabi.

If you can even call it that, at this point.

“Just so you know,” he breaks the silence with a grunt, “don’t look for me in the next week or so.” His voice is softer now, taking a longer drag from his cigarette than before. “Something’s come up, boss needs everyone this time.”

“Oh…okay.”

Your knuckles hurt from how hard you’re clutching the bottle. He never means it, whenever he gives a date like that. A few days could easily turn into a few months—a couple weeks at most, if you were lucky. Worst case scenario, this could very well be the last time you saw him.

Heroes did it all the time. How many sullen faces flashed over the news at night, sharing bittersweet memories of their loved ones lost to needless combat? You never saw yourself as a fan of heroes growing up, never even aspired to be one yourself. It wasn’t a lifestyle that appealed to you, with how isolated it seemed to be. And you were well aware of the risks that came with being one, or even caring for one.

It’s the same for any villain out there, maybe even more. Treat each day as though it’s your last. Otherwise you’ll end up cuffed and chained in a cell—or maybe even six feet underground. There’s no room for meaningless attachments or unwanted feelings. Squash those down now while you can, or you’ll regret it even more down the line.

This would be the sixth time Dabi’s left you. At least this time he’s given you a fair warning.

“…How long will you be gone?”

“Can’t say.” Another drag, just one more sip of his beer. The hollow sound it gives as he places it down makes you feel a bit better about your own drinking. At least I’m not the only one who’s almost finished. “No way of knowing how long this’ll take.”

“Oh.” Just drop it, you’ll only get yourself worked up. “…So no Toga either then, huh?”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Sadly no—but she’s never gonna shut up about you until we get back. Little shit,” he adds under his breath.

“…Okay.”

This time he turns to look at you; you give him a smile, trying to ignore the swirling in the pit of your stomach.

“You don’t sound okay.”

“Hm? Nah, I’ll be fine. You got shit to do, I get it. I’ll just be waiting for you until you get back.”

If you come back.

It makes your stomach squirm, the thought of not having Dabi in your life anymore. He’s an asshole, no way around it. He’s the reason your couch constantly smells of burnt skin and smoke, the reason for all those bloody bandages clogging up the little trash can you have in the bathroom. He keeps you awake until the ungodly hours of early morning, has a habit of stealing snacks from the fridge whenever he pleases, and always has you on edge whenever you’re out in public. As though any random passerby will catch a whiff of smoke from your clothes and immediately trace it back to Dabi.

But he’s also the reason you’re not as scared walking home in the dark anymore. The reason you watch the sun go down with a smile, wondering if tonight he’ll stop by for a quick visit. The reason you’re not as lonely as you used to be. He might be a villain, but he’s a damn good security blanket. Not to mention a free heater whenever the nights get cold.

“You go do what you gotta do, and don’t worry about me, alright?”

You can’t help but grimace at the bottle in your hand—not a drop left inside. Wordlessly he plucks another from the cooler, flicks the cap off with ease and passes it towards you. The alcohol still burns down your throat, though not as strong as before.

Just don’t leave me out here all by myself.

The next few minutes crawl by in complete silence, save for the sounds of the city below. He presses his cigarette into the stone before lighting up a fresh one with the flame at his fingertip.

A sudden boldness grabs ahold of you, and you find yourself motioning to the little cancer stick between his lips, before tapping your finger against your mouth. He shakes his head with a soft laugh, taking another puff and plucking it from his lips.

“I’m startin’ to think I’m a bad influence on you, doll. Drinking, smoking… What happened to that good girl image of yours, huh?”

Your nose scrunches up at the smoke near your face. “You were the one who thought I had that image—I never claimed to have it myself.”

A quick inhale, a glowing speck of blue, and suddenly you’re coughing up a storm, pounding at your chest with your fist.

“You sure about that?” He’s outright laughing now, as he reaches in the cooler for another beer. “Still can’t handle a tiny bit of smoke, huh?”

“I can handle it just fine. I spend all my time with you, after all!”

The laughter dies down, the cigarette’s back in his hand…and your stomach twists when you start to feel that heavy weight settling back in your chest.

You’re going to miss these nights. Just being stupid with him over a couple of drinks, as though you’re the only two people in the world. That damn smirk, those cocksure blue eyes, the way he always seems to find his grip on your shoulder, your hips, your—

“Pass me your phone.”

You quirk an eyebrow but obey nevertheless. Not the smartest move, handing a well-known villain your phone, but you’ve done worse than that in his presence. You still remember the night you gave him your number, the second time he found himself in your apartment, bloodied and beaten and leaning on the edge of the kitchen counter. You had rolled your eyes, grabbed the nearest pen you could find, and scrawled the digits on the palm of his hand.

“In case you need a doctor again,” you sneered, and he only responded with a smirk. “Keep this up and I might start charging you for your visits.”

But he kept coming back, and you never did charge him.

It takes him a few moments to find whatever he’s looking for. Hell, he could be sifting through all your personal texts to your family and you would be none the wiser.

A cool breeze slips through the air; you bring my knees up to your chest and continue to stare at the city below. Listening to the furious clicking of keys, the soft hum when Dabi finally seems to find what he’s been looking for.

A soft tune fills the air around you. He places your phone on the little slab of stone between you, looking rather pleased with himself as he turns the volume up to the highest setting. And before you can blink he’s pushing himself to his feet, his cigarette forgotten beside his drink.

He snaps his fingers, taps his heel with each beat of the song. It’s an older one, a song you haven’t heard in quite a few years. Not something you would associate with the villain beside you. Then again he’s always been full of surprises, hasn’t he?

He spins on his heel—nearly knocking over his beer can—and flashes you a smirk. It’s hard to keep a straight face as you watch him swaying from side to side, the elated look on his face making your throat close up all over again.

“What are you doing?”

He doesn’t answer you, only twirls around once more in time with the music. But then he’s smirking again, stretching a hand out to you. You shake your head as fast as you can, and that fuzzy feeling in your chest only worsens as he slowly makes his way over to you.

“Ah, I…I don’t really dance.”

“Too bad.”

A startled yelp fills your ears, your shoes scraping against the rooftop as he pulls you into his chest. Fingers laced around your wrist, his other hand pressed against the small of your back. Too warm—your hand slips against his chest, in the dip of skin between his scars and the collar of his shirt.

“D-Dabi, I’m serious!” Another gasp as he tugs you in and spins around. It’s a miracle you manage not to step on his heavy boots. “I can’t dance!”

“If you think you can’t dance, you haven’t been doing it right, doll.”

It’s almost overwhelming, being this close to him, face to face like this. So close you can count each individual staple embedded in the skin of his face, holding him together. The ridges of scarred skin beneath his eyes, the glimmer of the triple piercings on the side of his nose—

Fuck, he’s staring—I’m staring—!

“Aww, what’s the matter?” You can barely hear the music anymore, with his voice so close to your ear. “Still scared of me? Thought you were braver than this.”

“I am! You’re just…” An insufferable piece of shit. A constant headache to deal with. A cocky villain who thinks he can sweet talk me into anything he wants to do. “…Just…you.”

“I’m flattered, doll. That’s probably the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” He spins you both around one more time, keeping his hand firm against your back. “If I didn’t know any better, I would think you got a soft spot for me.”

“As if!” You hate to say it, but it’s getting a bit easier to move your feet, keeping rhythm with his own. “I don’t think I could ever have a soft spot for you.”

“No? Well, that’s a shame. I was kinda hopin’ for a different answer.”

Suddenly he’s pushing you away, keeping his hold on your wrist, snickering at the soft grunt that slips through your lips. He yanks you back in, twirling you beneath your clasped hands, before your back slams into his chest, and his arms coil around your waist.

“For someone who claims they can’t dance, you’re not half bad.” You can feel him smirk against your cheek as your blood freezes in your veins. So close, so fucking close. “You have no problem keeping up with me.”

“I don’t really have a choice,” you choke out as he readjusts his grip, shifting you around so your chest is against his own once more. “You’re throwing me from side to side. Is this what you call dancing, Dabi?”

He traces his lips with his tongue, and suddenly you can’t stop staring at the little silver piercing right on the tip. Wait, how long has he had that? And have I seriously just noticed that now?!

“It’s dancing as long as you’re having fun.” His voice is a low growl in his chest, sending a surge of heat right to your stomach. “And I’m having a blast right now, doll.”

You suck in a breath at the touch of his fingers against your back, slipping under your shirt to graze the skin beneath. He quirks an eyebrow, readjusting his grip on your wrist, before spinning you around one more time.

Fine. He wants to play like that then, huh?

Before you can think about it, you’re wrapping an arm around the back of his neck, pushing into his chest with all your might. He stumbles briefly before regaining his step—but you’re already leaning in close, lips pressed against the shell of his scarred ear.

“And what would you do if I said yes?” Suddenly you’re grateful for the alcohol coursing through your veins, giving you that extra leap of courage to pull this little act off. “If I told you I had a special spot for you, huh?”

But he doesn’t falter like you thought he would. Instead he jerks his body to the side, tugging you down until he’s dipping you towards the edge of the roof. The city sounds are little more than low hums; completely irrelevant with those bright blue eyes on your own.

“That depends. What would you want me to do?”

“Dunno.” The words spill out faster than you can stop them. “I’m down for anything you have in mind.”

“Is that so?”

It’s only when he pulls you back into his chest that you realize the mistake you’ve made. The hand around your wrist comes to rest against the column of your throat. The tiniest squeeze has you wincing, your face flushed with heat, your heart exploding in your chest. His fingers heat up ever so slightly, and a shiver drips down your spine.

His flames have never frightened you. They’ve killed plenty of people, reduced countless buildings to rubble and ash. They’ve left ragged scars along his body, a testament of just how dangerous they can be if left unchecked. He could easily kill you if he loses control—or simply if he feels like it.

But fear is the last thing you’re feeling right now. All you can see are those beautiful blue eyes, the same shade as the sparks emitting from his palm, the scent of smoke still strong in the air…

And the sudden rush of heat that’s pooling in your stomach at the mischievous glint in his eye.

“Be careful, doll, or else I might get the wrong idea.”

I can stop and leave right now if you want. Tell me what you want.

You should listen to him. You should shake your head and admit he’s right, that you’re way in over your head, so your night can continue underneath the stars. Before one or both of you has drunk too much and you stumble back down the fire escape and into your apartment. You should stop this before you do something you know you’ll regret in the morning. Before you end up ruining whatever dynamic you have, crushing any sparks of that forbidden something else you’ve been wondering about for the last few months.

But instead you curl your fingers around his own, pressing them deeper into the skin of your throat.

“Trust me,” your voice is barely a whisper, “I want this.”

In the few times you’ve imagined kissing Dabi—when you’re unable to fall asleep in the dead of night, or when you’ve had a few more drinks than usual—you always thought he would be rough. Quick and searing like his flames, leaving no room for you to breathe. You wondered if he would be demanding with his hands, tugging at your hair, nipping at your mouth, or slotting himself between your legs. He seems like the kind of guy to have priorities like that.

You suck in a breath as he leans in, mismatched lips pressing against your own. The first thing you notice is the slight tremble of his palm, the way his fingers quiver beneath your own. But he’s pulling away from your throat before you can blink, curling his hand around the back of your head.

His skin is burning against your own, but his mouth is startlingly soft. Even with his scars and piercings he’s still so gentle, cradling you into his body as though you might break. Soon your hands are in his hair, fingers tugging at black tendrils and pulling him in as close as you possibly can.

The song finally ends, a breath of silence before another one takes its place. It’s a slower beat, one meant for romantic dances or sensual dates between lovers. A part of you wonders if he chose these songs on purpose, just to try to win you over.

Your breaths are getting shorter with every traded kiss; your knees begin to buckle as he slides a hand down to rest at your waist. Every inch of you is blazing with heat, the alcohol making your head swim, your nails desperately scraping at the hem of his shirt, your chest tightening at the ragged patch of skin splayed across his stomach—

Your heel knocks into something on the roof, the sound of a splash filling your ears. The two of you jerk away from each other in time to see the bottle of cider tipped over, the alcohol dripping down the edge of the roof.

“Better watch yourself there,” he snickers against the shell of your ear. “Don’t want you getting hurt all the way up here.”

“I’m fine!” But your words are already starting to blend together, the faint pounding of your head matching the beat of your heart.

“Like hell you are—two drinks in and you’re already tipsy. Let’s call it a night, sweetheart.”

“I said I’m fine!” You can’t stop yourself from smiling as you swipe your palms over your eyes, watching as he leans down to grab the (now) empty bottles and cans. “You…you just made it worse, you know!”

Kissing me like that, how can I not act a little tipsy?

“Aww, you’re so sweet.” He throws the rest of the drinks into the cooler, flicks the remains of his final cigarette over the side of the roof. “C’mere, let’s get you to bed.”

“But you’re tipsy too, aren’t you?”

“Only a little,” he replies with a smirk, leading you down the fire escape as carefully as he can. “I know how to handle my alcohol, unlike a certain someone I know.”

“…Shut up or you’ll be dancing alone next time…”

“That’s a shame, I had a completely different dance in mind.” He licks his lips again, flashing that damn piercing on his tongue, as though you’re not already lightheaded enough. “But we’ll save that for next time, doll. When we can both remember it.”

“Huh, bold of you to think I’d want to remember it.”

His arm presses into the rung above your head, caging you against the steps of the fire escape, just outside your balcony door. It’s hard to stop the smile on your face as he leans in close, looking rather insulted at your little comment.

“You really don’t think I can make you feel good?”

“I don’t know—if you’re half as good as you are at annoying me…then I might have some pretty high expectations.”

He chuckles, his smoky breath warm against your cheeks. “Then I’ll just have to prove you wrong when I get back.”

His words are a kick in the gut, a grim reminder of the reality around you. He slips your phone back into your hand and slides the door open to let you both in. All the while your mind is racing, wondering if anything you say will get him to—

“Stay with me.”

“Already planned on it, doll.”

He sets the cooler down on the counter before flopping down in his usual spot on the couch. His long legs bend over the arm as he shuffles out of his coat, the scent of ash strong as you settle into his side.

But before he can kiss you again you grab his face with both hands, bringing his eyes up to meet your own.

“I mean it—stay with me. Not just for the night…” Your mouth goes dry, the words aren’t coming as easily as you want them to. “…You just…you better fuckin’ come back to me, alright? Or else I’m locking you out of my apartment for good!”

You expect him to roll his eyes, to laugh you off or even tease you for being so clingy. But instead he tugs you into his chest, his lips warm against your forehead.

“Yeah, you got it. I’ll come back, doll.”

You don’t know if you believe him, if you should believe him. Not when you both know you’re going to wake up to an empty couch tomorrow morning, only the lasting smell of smoke to keep you company.

“I’m holding you to that,” you murmur, pressing a finger to the line of staples running down his chin. He twists away with a grimace, and the ache in your chest slowly begins to melt away.

“Fine, whatever. Just go to sleep already, before you really do end up kicking me out.”

You roll your eyes before nestling your face into the crook of his neck. “Suit yourself—goodnight, asshole.”

“’Night, dollface.”

You know it can’t last—not for tonight, maybe not ever. Maybe it’s the alcohol swirling around in your veins, or the smell of ash so strong you think it might choke you. But suddenly you’re smiling against the scarred skin of his neck, idly tracing over the ridges and stitches left behind from his flames. The effects of the alcohol and touch of his skin are lulling you to sleep…but before you feel yourself slip away, you lean in close and press your lips to the shell of his ear.

“Better come back to me, I’m still counting on that second dance.”

#dabi x reader #dabi x you #dabi x y/n #touya todoroki x reader #touya todoroki x you #mha x reader #dabi #touya todoroki #mha fics

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bluepoodle7 · 1 year ago

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#Shezow #ThinkingAboutReviewingEachEpisode #Sheviews #MyThoughts

(I will be editing this post a lot and there might be multiple parts.)

I'm thinking about rewatching Shezow again but might make a review on each episode and maybe add my thoughts to it then at the end put what episodes I liked in order.

I wish this show got a second sheason.

Maybe keep the artstyle the same but make it better animated.

Maybe add Dudepow's evil version and Maz's parents.

I'm already dreading She-Phat I remember seeing most of the episodes on The Hub then later just Youtubeing the rest.

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

This is my first time reviewing a whole series so go easy on me.

I remember seeing this ad play on the Hub Network Channel when it was a thing.

Then later checked it out.

0:32

Image and video not mine but link is there.

Shezow (Premiere Promo) - Hub Network - YouTube

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The Pilot differences.

SheeZaam

I have seen the SheeZaam pilot a long time ago when it was basically lost media.

I think this pilot was aired on G4 for the Midnight Spank block but I never watched it but researched about this and the Disney Shezow pilots.

I was too young to watch that and I never knew when it aired.

But I did like the ads for it.

The SheeZaam pilot looks like something I would see on Newgrounds randomly and also the origin of the laser lipstick at 02:20 but it's a actual laser instead of a lightsaber or a beam sword from smash bros.

It's pretty dated like a old school offensive Newgrounds cartoon but for a flash cartoon standards it's okay and it was made in 2005.

If this show stayed adult I know the jokes would either get better with the right writers or worse but it depends on the time period.

I would add these characters as background characters like Joe Halpern just being a trash man then later helping the new Shezow fight crime while making dated jokes and maybe be annoyed by the she puns that replace his cursing.

Maybe make Joe slowly get more progressive in later episodes.

I give it a 5/10.

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The Disney Version Of Shezow.

This aired in 2007 on Disney's Shorty McShorts' Shorts pilot block where I think all the pilots never made it.

I never got to see this on my tv since back then I didn't really watch Disney a lot during those days I was mostly into Cartoon Network, Nick, and maybe other kids networks at the time.

This show really likes the dude looks like a lady joke and the no way José jokes.

I just wonder what the "I wasn't talking about the house." joke was about at 01:02-01:11.

I hope it's not bad.

I wish guy in the new show kept the fart knockers saying though.

Also add back in the bully characters and add José back in as a student that Guy knew before Maz.

01:58

This scene gave me a idea on a artwork I made with the 2012 guy looking in the mirror behind pilot guy.

Also the show made it canon that José was made to not know that Guy and Shezow are the same person which is weird to me but also had a crush on Shezow which is just Guy in bugs bunny drag but not knowing it.

I guess in the 2012 pilot they scrapped that detail.

The Shezow chant is different and its about pinching all the cheeks, the Shelair was hot pink and Sheila is just a lip tv, and feminine intuition or in the 2012 show it's She-S-P or a sixth sense.

The theme is different at 05:09-05:18.

This has the origin of the super sheslap at 03:46-03:48 and the laser lipstick returns but as a laser sword at 04:37 which is interesting to me.

This version of Shezow looks better animated for 2007 then the 2005 which was choppy and I wonder if Disney was brave enough to pick this show up would it be different then the 2012 version.

Also would Guy count as a Disney princess if they made a episode where Shezow got crowned as one?

Also the truck reminds me of the Illbleed trap with the truck from level 3.

The Truck trap I'm talikng about.

A blog about obscurity stuff, plushies and food. on Tumblr - #Woodmill Truck Trap

04:22

Forgot Disney Pilot Shezow has to pull his hair to do the first sonic scream.

02:50-02:59

Also in SheeZaam had that tampon weapon that suck up and contains liquid enemies which is cool.

I wonder if the tv network executives would allow Shezow to carry a tampon or a pad to use as a weapon?

Also the gendered bathroom scene returns in the 2012 version but the 2007 version had it at 05:13.

The 2012 version had the same scene at 0:29.

SheZow Files : She-S-P - YouTube

I give it a 6/10.

SheZow on Vimeo

2012 Shezow Pilot

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Now we are getting into familiar territory.

The first half is a little different from the Disney pilot.

José is replaced by Maz and has more of a friendship connection than José in the pilot.

Maz has a personality unlike José who is just a joke device and falling in love with your best friend troupe.

The bullies are gone and the "I'm not talking about the house." joke was removed in this pilot.

But in the 2012 Shezow Pilot the movers saying no problem and yep when putting up the furniture in the house.

Instead of in the Disney pilot there is only one mover by himself moving everything inside the house while just saying yep, an mhm noises, yeah, and okay.

The truck crashing scene is not here in the 2012 pilot.

Both guys still have the toxic masculinity sayings like the "girly unpacking" and it's a guy thing".

Both Kelly's still are the most intelligent of the team and Guy in the 2012 makes puns right out the gate.

The 2007 guy kind of sounded a little mean and called his boy squad fart knockers.

The "I'm not talking about the house." joke gets replaced with "Nice digs." and "I wish I had a Aunt Agnus." And Maz is the one to explain what is happening to the mover in the 2012 pilot and in the 2007 pilot it was Guy who said that information.

Both Guy's both toss stuff including the urn of their dead Aunt Agnes and both make the similar saying in both scenes.

Both Guy's make the tacky ring joke.

The Shezow change chants in the 2007 and 2012 are both different.

But the 2012 version of Shezow is the best dressed of the three pilots and also I like the leopard print.

Kelly in the Disney pilot just info dumps what Shezow is while 2012 Kelly is a mega fan and wants to be Shezow. (Remember that for later.)

Both Guy's snatch the ring away from their sisters.

You know what I want to know.

How did both Guy's know the chants when they find it too girly to pay attention to it?

Dude looks like a lady joke returns. 3:37-3:38

And both Guy's say "Say whut?" But the Disney Guy had better delivery of the joke.

I like it that this show has that Ben 10 rule where the user can't take off the ring until the user dies troupe.

The 2012 Shezow pilot has a I wonder what power I have montage.

The Shelair was behind the mirror and is a nice touch.

This shelair looks better than the 2007 Disney pilot and Shelia went from being a mouth tv to being a Ai like character similar to Karen in Spongebob.

02:47

Now we are in the new ideas added to the Shezow story.

I like it how Guy was like nah and then sees the Shehicle then says ok.

Remember Guy and Kelly are 12 and driving.

Guy is pretty good at driving even doing the MIB ceiling driving to avoid traffic.

The whole Shezow can't fly thing. (Keep that for later.)

Guy says Sheilarious at 6:35-6:36.

Shezow is as fast as sonic with super speed but running in heels is something to work on.

The She-S-P gets explained at 7:35-7:36.

Also the commercial break animations are pretty cool and feels like old school anime commercial break things.

7:48-8:14

SheZow S01E01 SheZow Happens & Coldfinger - YouTube

They say "Get the dog's jewels and his too." and that flew over my head when I first watched it and caught me off guard.

8:33-8:35

Yeah the dad hates Shezow for saving the day instead of the police doing it.

Reminds me of the Powerpuff Girls episode with the donut eating cop getting mad that the girls are saving the day instead of the cops.

But I would love to know more about Guy's Dad.

Also the closet threw up on on you joke is a wow.

10:41-10:43.

I want a vinyl figure of Guy in Shezow form with the random stuff he found in his closet to cover up that he is Shezow.

I like it that the show let Maz be part of the Shezow squad instead of being the guesser on why Guy keeps leaving. This is way better than what they did to José.

Also Maz saying a whole bunch of shepuns to guy and him looking annoyed is pretty cool.

I thought they would have made Maz a toxic person but he is just a happy chill guy.

11:17

Guy had to say Sheyeah to change back while in the Disney and SheeZaam pilots I think the power just poofs away then reappears when danger is near but I'm not sure.

Also Sheroes are the canon fan name similar to bronies for Mlp.

I remember the Shezow Creator having a tumblr where you can ask him questions but it's long gone now but I know a few things from looking at Tumblr from the outside without a account in the past.

Like Shezap is both male and female.

And how Aunt Agnes died and who killed her.

Shezow and Logan did go out but it was for a Shezow thing.

The creator is okay with Guy and Maz being a thing.

Maz's parents if shown were one is male and one is female.

Is a White and Asian couple.

I give this show a 8/10.

Images not mine but links are there.

The Shezow Tumblr that archived the creator's posts.

The Shezow Database! on Tumblr - #post by Obie Scott Wade

#Shezow #Thinking About Reviewing Each Episode #Sheviews #My Thoughts

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mysteriesofmarcy · 5 months ago

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Today in my GF rewatch I watched Roadside Attraction. And I thought, "Isn't it weird that I initially liked this episode and everyone else hated it? I wonder why."

So I decided to dissect that very topic.

Now, if you've been following me for a while, you might know that I'm not usually the biggest fan of the real plot heavy episodes. My favorite episodes are the ones with a good mix of plot and character development. I do typically tend to like the straight character development episodes the least, mostly because they tend to feel out of place. And the plot heavy episodes are somewhere in the middle for me.

So why, then, did I like Roadside Attraction so much? I mean, it's a straight character development (or character derailment) episode, and it's by far the most out of place episode in Gravity Falls, and maybe in TV history.

I'll admit there were parts I really didn't like. And they're the same as the parts everybody else didn't like: the cave scene with Candy, Dipper, and all the other girls showing up being at the top of that list, with the scene of Stan admitting that he knows nothing about women being close behind.

But then there were the good parts. This episode was carried by the first act. For Dipper, who is awkward around girls, just talking with a few that he meets on a road trip is a good strategy to get over a former crush. And it's not like he meant anything by it; he was just having pleasant conversations and making new friends, that's all. Nothing wrong with that. And the very end of the first act, with Candy revealing her crush on Dipper, was a great setup.

Act 2 started strong by setting up Candy wanting to sit with Dipper and him being uncomfortable about the whole thing. Now we know Gravity Falls can handle a situation like this because they did it before in The Hand That Rocks the Mabel, and differently in The Love God.

But then Stan gave some horrible advice that Dipper should just accept Candy's offer of a date just to... have a date, I guess? And then the other girls he met at the other tourist stops all showed up in one place? And then they all turned on him and assumed he was into one of them? I mean, Stan was right that Dipper should not have seen any of those girls again. At least, he should not have seen them all at once. And even if they did show up all at once, C.S. Lewis' words come to mind:

(Eros, if you didn't know, is a Latin term for the romantic type of love.)

But none of that really answers the question.

Why did I like this episode if it has such major flaws?

And the answer is two words: Happy Dipper. Happy Dipper is a rare sight to behold. Happy Dipper gives LIFE to any episode he's in. Happy Dipper takes charge of his own life and gets what he wants, not by making overcomplicated listy things or raising the dead or whatever, but by living in the moment. And as he said in the hot tub scene, he had "one of the best days ever!"

So when did Happy Dipper show his face?

In the man cave hot tub (OK, that was Destructor)

In the multibear's cave

After the party in Double Dipper (OK, this one was only written about in the journal)

Putting the bandage on Mabel's elbow on Summerween

Chatting with Wendy while leaving the pool

Having a sleepover with Mabel in their old room

Leaping into the Gideon-bot

Singing the chorus to T8king Over Midnight

Watching movies with Wendy

Encouraging Mabel on the mini golf course

Encouraging Soos in his dating life and on his birthday

The majority of Abaconings!

The Northwest Mansion after midnight

Playing with fireworks and water balloons the next morning

Playing DDAMD with Ford

At his birthday party

And of course, the hot tub at Septic Ridge

Happy Dipper is Good Dipper. That is all.

#gravity falls #gf #roadside attraction

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ask-missparker · 7 months ago

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I thought I had you figured out | OUAT AU Series 🌙

Summary: The curse has broken, yet both sides of the family are torn apart once again. One half in the enchanted forest and the other in FighterTown, what else can go wrong?

Pairing: Nikolai x Mia, Liane x Ethan, Jeremy x Cole

Platonic Pairing: Joshua & Bella

Timeline: Post--Don’t Give Up On Me fic & Present Day fics

Season: 2

~~~~~

A/N: I got inspired by a concept, I always had for Mia in the MCU as she isn’t much of a sleeper anymore after she gets her own upgrade from normal human to mutant. And with the recent rewatch of clips and my own sleepless nights, it only seems fitting. One of theses days I gotta stop traumatizing my OCs I swear 😂 BUT NOT TODAY!

Note: You guys can keep going with the tale and see who they meet in the forest fic. Or what’s happening in The Town fic hehe

———

~Flashback~

In the early morning air, the coldest temperature would bring the cozy atmosphere within small home. It was pouring outside, which made everything feel more colder than expected. It's been 2 weeks since the daring adventure and their wild saves.

It was good. In two weeks they were gonna be going to a ball, dancing and drinking the night away.

But the couple wasn't in peace, yet. They couldn't quite get a good deal of sleep.

She stood in front of the bathroom mirror, her hands rested on the sink behind her as she let out a sigh. Her sleeping curse was gone but still, she held nightmares of being trapped in a blackened room filled with deep fire, no windows or doors, just a narrow hallway.

Side effects of the sleeping curse.

She was in her thoughts when a pair of arms wrapped behind her humming and kissed her shoulder. She smiled tiredly, leaning into his chest and kissed his cheeks.

Nicholas has known about Amelia's nightmares for a while now, cursing his brother and that stupid curse, as he tried to calm her worries. He had his own nightmares. Dark thoughts and fears in those nightmares, he didn't care to admit, yet he knew that she knew about them. As she would hush his worries, let him cuddle in her arms and just listen even if he didn’t reveal everything.

He breath her in natural scent and sighed, pressing kisses to her hair as he said, "I got an idea."

"I am not staying up again until midnight." She joked looking over her shoulder, pressing the dark bangs out of his face.

"No, I mean, it could work. My mother, she used to light a candle, telling me they catch the nightmares and let the person.."

"..sleep in peace. My mother used that trick with my father during the Ogre wars. Do you think it will work?"

"Let's hope..if not, we can always take a few shots and wish our troubles away."

"You're hilarious."

The two of them headed back to the cozy atmosphere of their bedroom, as Mia lit a candles for the both of them. She knew her fiancé tends to have nightmares of his own, despite him not voicing them, so she decided it was a fair gift.

It was silent agreement to do this for a couple of days at a time, in hope of making their nightmare turn into forgotten memories.

He rested his head on his pillow watching her lighting the candle next to the nightstand, then nuzzling in bed beside him. The warm of the covers and bright light of the tiny fire brought a gentleness in the air. A comforting feeling to whip away the fears.

Two candles to catch the nightmares, as they fell back to sleep...

~End of Flashback~

---

..she shot up, awaken from the slumber after that nasty fall. Liane groaned rubbing her shoulder, looking over to find the teens, Nikolai and Jeremy surrounding her.

They weren't in the town hall anymore, but in The Enchanted Forest.

Jeremy was awake already, rubbing his neck from the hall trying to awaken his friends.

"Alright get up." Jeremy said, shaking them awake as the teens groaned and muttered 'let us sleep', "You two can sleep once we return home."

That caught Bella and Joshua's attention, waking up and looking around at the sight around them. Bella was silent drinking the world she just entered as Joshua said, "..uh, didn't Cole say that the forest was a wasteland? This doesn't look like one."

"Aye. Whatever we are, my husband lied about it, and we need to get out of here soon." Jeremy respond, helping them stand.

Liane puffed up her purple collar, following the four of them, keeping an eye on the kids. Nikolai asked if the others were okay, telling them that they needed to find shelter and a plan to get home quick. He also knew that their spouses are going to kill 'em! He led the path, pushing past a few bushes and trees in awe of the forest.

It was greener than he last remembered, yet some leaves were dry and rougher than others. It made the path look bleak. And foggy, despite the sunlight shining through the trees. Jeremy chuckled soaking in the bushing and semi-fresh land, meanwhile Liane touch the trees and snapped her fingers as it evoked magic from her palm.

Bella slump the book that was inside her backpack taken back by all the greens and dry oranges that filled her eyes. She read the book, or least the chapters that mattered to her, but she never expected to appear inside the words of the book itself. It was a wonder.

However she felt an off priming subject within their surroundings. Joshua felt it too, a hollow feeling he knew all too well, the forest felt alone and quiet.

Too quiet for their ears.

Joshua has spent his years alone, on the run and trying to adjust to figuring out who he was. He knew the hollow feeling, the quietness and hard times that follow behind it. All those sleepless nights, he was always told he was different and misunderstood. And when he thought he found some kind of peace, he was thrown into a world wind of situations such as this one.

He liked to think he doesn't need anyone, that he can figure out things on his own, because that's all he ever known.

But standing here in the woods, he feels less confident, unsure to admit it or not. He was only in this world for not even an hour before he was sent away in hopes to protect him from the curse.

"Up ahead! A pot of land." Jeremy shouted taking the young boy out of his thoughts.

"You sure it's safe?" Bella asked, following her uncle.

"Half of this land is dead, so it's the best thing at the moment."

"Doesn't sound promising."

"Hey, I'm trying here."

"Whatever you say."

Bella looped her arm around Joshua, telling him to pick up the pace as they followed the adults. Nikolai could tell his son wasn't in the best shape, it concerned him. Hell, he could tell his niece wasn't either. Like something was bother her, yet she refused to admit what it was. Liane was in a daze, rubbing her shoulders as her eyes fell on her daughter trying to ponder what was going on in her mind.

Nikolai bumped the blonde's shoulder and asked, "You alright?"

"Define alright.." She replied with a light smile.

"Well you woke up from a sleeping curse a while back and now we're stuck in the forest after a nasty fall from the hat."

"Yeah, right..the curse, not proud of it. Wh-when we fell and I was knocked out cold, I was dreaming..and now I'm awake."

"Uh, that's how sleeping works."

"Funny. I'm serious, I was dreaming but it was a weird one, like I was in a room and then..the corners were on fire. But not my fire.."

"Ooh. I see, it wasn't a dream..acted like a nightmare."

"Y-yeah! It turned into a nightmare, I was in this happy colorful room and then poof fire! Wa-wait, how did you..?"

"It's the side effects of the sleeping curse, it goes away with time. Mia had it..I once had it."

"Oh. Damn..when does it go away?"

"Depends on the person. It took Mia months, meanwhile it took me weeks."

Liane nodded silently remembering a certain redheaded princess she put under a sleeping curse and whines in embarrassment at the thought. Nikolai noticed the look on her face and sighed, knowing this must've been karma for the blonde.

Soon enough, they took shelter at the pot of land, which appeared to be an old campsite. They found swords laying around, pieces of clothes hanging on clothes line, bow and arrows and even a few dead bodies. Some were just their skeletons.

"Gross." Liane muttered stepping accidentally on a meatless hand, cracking a bone.

"Cool." Bella added with a smirk, earning a glare from her mother removing a scarf from the clothes line.

Joshua plucked a sword from the dead guy on the ground and grinned, "Sweet. You think he got money too on him?"

Liane gasped in disgust, "Ah no! Yuck, put that down. Both of you!"

"Not a chance." Bella said finding a satchel on the ground too.

Jeremy smirked holding back at his laugh at Liane's facial expressions while the kids collected items. Nikolai noticed there were no food nor water nearby, deciding him and Jeremy would go out to get some. Joshua perked up, wanting to go to but his father said otherwise.

"I'm not a kid, you know." Josh muttered standing up from the ground, lazily flipping the sword.

"You're 16 and somewhere you don't know. Think again." Nikolai responded before walking over.

"Hey! I can handle this, it's a walk."

"I know that but I need someone to watch the girls."

"Then have Jeremy do it."

"Not when Liane is dazed and Bella is barely talking. I need you to do this for me."

"Bella can handle herself. And so can-"

"Joshua Christopher Nolan, that's enough. You stay here."

That seemed to silence the young brunette, having never heard his full name before until now. He nodded then walked back to his post, sitting on one of the benches watching Liane rest and Bella examine the items she found. Joshua noticed Bella giving him a small squeeze on his shoulder, a little stunned herself.

With that men walked out of the campsite without saying a word. Jeremy had a lot on his mind but he knew he had to say something, even if it sounded humorous.

So, after a moment, the blonde spoke.

Jeremy looked over his shoulder as he followed his oldest friend saying, "That was harsh."

"He kept pushing." Nikolai replied with a sour look on his face, but his friend could tell something was deeper than that.

"And? Look, Nik, we're all stressed here but he wanted to help."

"He is helping. He's watching over the girls. I need him to watch over the girls while we get supplies."

"Why? More hands could be a lot more helpful."

"BECAUS—because, I need him safe. I know theses woods, anything can help and I can't return home knowing he let him get hurt."

"He—Joshua has lived without you for years, he won't..w-what is going on?"

"I lost him twice already, man..I won't let it happen again."

"The first time wasn't your fault."

"And the second time?"

"Nik.."

"Sorry. I don't want to fail as a father..like I failed as his friend."

Jeremy gave Nikolai a smile that said 'you won't'. His friend half smile at that, still feeling the weight over his shoulders but kept moving forward. Hell, Jeremy was trying to balance his feelings here, his niece and nephew were here, basically unskilled and his husband was back in their world probably freaking the heck out.

Better yet, drinking until he returned.

---

With the two adults gone, leaving one dazed and half alert, Bella was secretly losing it. Her mother was in and out of sleep, tired and a little dizzy, and Bella blames herself. If she hadn't told her to go to the diner, she wouldn't have ended up in the hospital in a small coma, under a sleeping curse.

Liane was still in her daze having tried not to fall asleep once again, but failed to do so. She was napping instead meanwhile Bella and Joshua were on watch time. It wasn't so bad.

The two friends chatted a bit, letting the other know what was going on in their heads. Bella admired how stiff her friend was acting, as she fit just as out of place as he was. However she was more in awe of the wonders in the land.

It was way different than the books.

She lean against the tree and said, "It feels like a dream..."

"Seriously?" Joshua asked with humor in his tone, holding down his gun for safety reason.

"Well yeah. Let's face it, I would have liked it in a different circumstances but still..you don't seem that excited."

"I..I am. It's cool, but we're out of our wheelhouse here, Belle..what if we don't make it back in time."

"In time for what?"

"I don't know. Maybe something weird happens in the town and we're not there to see it."

"That's what our parents and uncles..and well, aunts are there for. We just need to keep a level head."

Joshua smiled at that, "Yeah, you're right, it would be nice to see the ponds and forest life here..or visit the lake our parents escaped in once."

"You read the book?" Bella replied jokingly around a bit, "I thought you said you don't read."

"Maybe I read a little..and the book was right about one thing."

"And what would that be?"

"Our parents being protective and..a little dramatic."

He pointed over to Liane half asleep with her face on the wooden table, snoring away flinching her nose a bit and humming a tune. She was sorta humming Taylor Swift in her sleep. That cause Bella to snort and quietly chuckle.

"Yeah you're right about that.." Bella responded but was cut off mid-breathe as the tip of a sword rested against her neck.

Her eyes darted to the fair blonde women with a floral headband, blonde locks, a ashy blue dress and a dark lavender coat to match.

Joshua's eye widen in shock as he raised his hand held gun and scoffed, "Lay down your the sword, now."

His eyes whipped around to notice anyone else came along, catching the eye on a figure rushing behind him over to the benches. The figure carried herself was grace and pondering eyes, dark red hair and a sliver lined skirt to add to her look. She held in her hand a dagger inching over to them.

"Not another step." Joshua declared, darting his gun between both the blonde and redhead.

The redhead scoffed, facing her dagger in front of the brunette as she held a smirk. But her eyes were fixed on Liane.

Bella glared trying to inch her neck away from the blonde who faced her, with a dumbfounded look plucking her sword a little closer.

Yup, they were in trouble.

----

🔈Thanks for reading. That’s what I got! Comment down below with ideas and reblog your thoughts

Keep it going with any fic ideas! 🎥 It could be flashbacks or present day, I’ll love to see what you guys come up with

🏷️ Tags: @missstrawbs2001 @purpleprincessonfyre @meiramel @gcthvile @rickb-chaos @gaminggirlsstuff @wizzzardofoz @cherrysft @thechoooooosenone @luna-d-marsh and etc

#danielle campbell #once upon a time au #i need sleep #sleeplees night #agents of shield fanfic #agents of shield oc #ouat s2

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