#you see firsthand all of her worse qualities and how she never really grows from any of them

[butwhatifidothis]

The Flayn thing gets even worse when you realise that Solon used Flayns blood to cause the Remire incident. Remire, which is in the EMPIRE. Edelgard literally directly contributes to an entire village in HER territory being completely wiped out by a hate plauge because she lent TWSITD the Death Knight, soldiers, and intevenes and rekidnaps Flayn you run out of turns and then has the nerve to say "I would have stopped this if I had known about it" like she had nothing to do with it like bish wha

It’s just like... Imma use this ask as a catalyst to what I’m about to say cuz it’s actually something that’s been on my mind for a bit: looking into how the lords’ talk about themselves vs. their actual actions in the story.

With Dimitri and Claude, there are a lot of moments where they describe themselves in a very negative light, Dimitri as a inhuman monster and Claude as a callous schemer, but we see from their numerous actions that neither of those thing are really true. 

Even when Dimitri was at his worst during the first five chapters of AM, him constantly dehumanizing the enemy, outwardly and vocally, all the time? He wouldn’t do that if he didn’t still care for people; if he didn’t it wouldn’t matter whether or not the people he killed were monsters or not. 

In CF and AM we see Claude put himself in front of Derdriu’s citizens to protect them from an oncoming attack from the Empire and he never retreats, even when his life is in danger. Even in CF you have to spare him because he won’t leave. Sure he asks you to but he could just... you know... bounce on his own lol

These are just one example for these two but there a plenty others that show that their descriptions for themselves simply do not hold up when examined closely. Compare that to Edelgard, whose most self-deprecating thing she says about herself, personally, as a person, is that she may too be detached from others. Which... is true. Every attempt she makes to try and connect with someone her own ego gets in the way and the other person kinda just has to deal with it (her Bernadetta supports are a good example, where Bernie’s shocked reaction to Edelgard being afraid of the ocean is met with annoyance and slight scorn). She keeps saying that she is doing everything she does for the people of Fodlan but her actions bring nothing but continued strife throughout the entire continent.

Like, let’s look at Remire like you did; she says that if she’d have known TWS would have done this she would have stopped them, but like... why would she? Genuinely asking. She admits herself that she wouldn’t be above letting her people die to further her cause, so what does it matter how they die? Especially when, practically, this is a good thing since it furthers the research for Demonic Beasts, creatures she willingly uses to help her. And she swears she’d had stopped it... but she still uses what came of it (improved Demonic Beasts). She still works with the people who did - she in fact orders them to create a pseudo relic for her to make up for the fact that neither of her Crests give her access to one and it’s built to her specifications, meaning she has at least a decent amount of sway with TWS. In all the other routes she gives the order to set her people on fire in Gronder. She chooses not to evacuate Enbarr when Claude’s army advances (specifying Claude cuz not sure if this happens in AM). She conscripts her civilians into the war, stripping them of their choice. She says she’s for meritocracy but steals credit for work she didn’t do. She tells Rhea she’ll let her surrender but moments before she tells Byleth that Rhea must be killed. She claims she allowed Garreg Mach a two week time period to evacuate its residents when she attacks but we know for a fact those two weeks were her gathering her forces. She says she wants to reveal the truth but hides the truth about the Tragedy from Dimitri and Dedue, who kidnapped Flayn from Seteth, who killed Jeralt from Byleth, who bombs Arianrhod from her army along with all the other things TWS do

With Edelgard what we hear her say about herself and what she does are completely different, like Dimitri and Claude, but unlike those two she’s far worse than how she describes herself. She’s hypocritical, a flat out liar, she genuinely gaslights constantly, she’s uncaring for her people’s safety, and that is shown time and time and time again. With Dimitri and Claude, we see that while they have moments where their initial self-descriptions are somewhat accurate (Dimitri willing to torture Randolph, Claude with Jeralt’s diary and using Cyril as a scapegoat) their overall actions portray a far better light on them. With Edelgard it’s the exact opposite

Almost like that’s intentional! Almost like the good people in the story are better than they initially appear as the grow in their stories while the bad ones are the opposite! Almost like... damn near basic storytelling! Who woulda thought.

[celestialtitania]

whatever it is (whatever it isn't)

A big thank you to my lovely betas @anabielvriskamars and @kellynicole515! Read it on AO3 or FFN.

Norman watches Emma play with Phil and Shery, a small smile growing on his face as he waits for his coffee to brew. He knew her memories were wiped away, but at the core she was still the same Emma he had always known.

The one always ready to make a ruckus with the kids. Naïve but determined. Strong but pure. He chuckles as the kids give her a big hug before rushing to get to school on time.

"Come on," he beckons Emma. "You need to eat, too." She gives him a sheepish grin as she sits next to him on the table, forgoing the coffee for some orange juice. He hands her a plate of toast, marmalade already applied just how she likes it and tells her to eat.

She wrinkles her nose, putting the plate back down on the table. "Um, thanks Norman. I don't really like the taste of marmalade though," she sighs. "But wasting food is even worse," she sighs at the toast again.

Ray rolls his eyes at her as he sets down his own plate of toast. "You hate marmalade that much?"

Emma nods emphatically, "It's bitter and feels leathery." She gingerly pokes at the toast, looking as though all of her energy had been sucked away.

Norman frowns at her words but Ray just hums. "You're alright with butter?" She blinks as he gestures towards his plate of toast. Emma's face brightens as she happily swaps the two plates and begins to eagerly eat the breakfast Ray had prepared.

Norman sits there feeling quite confused. Emma had always preferred marmalade over something as plain as butter. He's about to ask when it occurs to him. The products must taste different from the demon and human worlds; after all, they were prepared differently. Mystery solved, Norman basks in joy at having the chance to speak with Emma and Ray without an imminent threat out to get them. Each and every moment was precious now, regardless. Norman has been through too much to ever think otherwise.

After breakfast, they go with Emma to visit her Gramps, the old man who had found her and taken her in two years ago. As they walk through the town, Norman expects to see Emma jumping excitedly or wanting to frolic in the snow. She does neither and the only time she lets out her exuberant nature is when Gramps opens the door.

The old man is clearly delighted to see her, just as much as she is to see him. Another thing about Emma that will never change. She has a way of drawing people to her wherever she goes. He'd seen it countless times, just her words and compassion changing enemies into friends, back in the Demon World.

They talk while Norman and Ray quietly sit and listen. They appear to have several inside jokes but that's only to be expected after living alone together for two years. At the end of their visit, Emma gives the old man a big hug before he takes Norman and Ray aside to thank them.

"She was alone when I met her. I probably wouldn't have gotten through my grief without her. You boys take care of her now, you hear me?"

Norman practically glows as he assures the man that he would do his very best to keep her safe and happy. Beside him, Ray appears thoughtful before voicing his own thoughts.

"Emma likes to take care of herself and she's still figuring out what makes her happy, but we'll always be there for her when she needs us," he says seriously. Norman thought that was a simple answer, especially when they had firsthand knowledge of what made Emma happy.

But the old man looks rather pleased as he laughs out loud. "Well said," he claps both boys on the back before he leaves them with Emma. The trio decide to take a look around the market before heading back home. Emma marvels at the sights but doesn't seem at all eager to purchase things. He'd expected Emma to point out all the things, the other kids would love.

Norman supposes it would be hard to buy things for them when she doesn't fully know their tastes anymore. Not that he would let something like that stop him from making sure Emma was having a good time.

His eyes light up as he spots a plush toy stall. He has an idea which he thinks is absolutely brilliant and was sure to put a smile on Emma's face. He separates from Emma and Ray, brushing off their questions and promising to catch up with them in just a moment.

Puzzled, they agree heading over to one of the food stalls. Norman smiles as he wonders why the idea never struck him before. Even if she didn't remember wanting to, the desire had to come from somewhere.

He picks the best quality the shop has before paying and rushing out of the store. He taps Emma on the shoulder before holding the plush in front of his face. Slowly, he lowers it to see her surprised expression.

"For you," he hands the plush giraffe to her waiting expectantly to see her smile joyously. Emma does smile but it's a confused one. She thanks him as she stares at the giraffe.

"Are you trying to tell me that I'm short?" She asks him after a moment. Norman tilts his head and asks her to explain her thought process.

"You know," she waves the giraffe around. "You're much taller than I am. Is this your way of saying you feel like a giraffe next to me?" She's frowning at him but her eyes show her amusement.

He can't help it. He throws his head back and laughs because that did sound like the sort of thing he would do. Emma tries not to but she's snickering with him while Ray rolls his eyes in the background.

Once they've caught their breath, Norman shakes his head. "No, I mean, I know it isn't big enough to ride but it's still cute right?"

Emma looks at him blankly, so Norman expands on his point. "Uh, some of the younger kids were saying that they wanted to ride a giraffe one day so I thought maybe you would too?" It sounds weak, even to his own ears but Norman didn't want to make Emma feel subconscious about not remembering the past.

Emma hums in response. "Ahh, sorry Norman," she apologizes sincerely. "It's a nice gesture but I'm not too interested in riding a giraffe. They're kinda weird looking, don't you think?" She giggles but Norman is frozen.

"But it's a giraffe," he repeats helplessly. Emma looks over at Ray who simply sighs and walks over to Norman, who is still asking how Emma could possibly dislike giraffes. Ray tries to get Norman to stop talking but something in Emma's expression changes.

"Oh, I must have used to like giraffes, that's it right?" Ray winces as Norman is forced to nod, there was no way to lie to Emma's face. "But now I don't. That must hurt you."

Norman nods again, an uncomfortable feeling growing in his stomach. Emma has never looked at him like this before and it hurts.

Norman opens his mouth to try and speak but Emma keeps talking before he can get even a syllable out.

"I thought you said it was okay that I was different from who I used to be," Emma asks, the expression on her face is unreadable but Norman can hear the quiver in her voice.

Norman winces as he shakes his head. He's reaching out, trying to form a physical connection to Emma but she steps back, a small frown beginning to appear on her face. "Were you just lying or did you think there wouldn't be a difference to begin with?"

Norman flinches, the words he'd said to Emma at their reunion coming back to him. He'd known she wouldn't be the same naïve and reckless girl. He'd prepared himself for someone who was more cautious and quiet.

"It's the little things," comes spilling out, unintentionally but it's enough to give Emma pause. She raises an eyebrow, clearly expecting him to explain himself. Norman swallows hard as he tries to come up with a way to tell her how he felt without hurting her.

"He was in love with you," Ray says bluntly, making Norman gape in shock. Emma's jaw drops as she turns to stare at Norman with wide eyes. Norman closes his eyes, as the pit in his stomach grows larger while mentally cursing Ray. But he also knows there was no other way to explain how he was feeling.

"You're still Emma," he reassures her. "You carry love and kindness in spades, especially for your family. You're bright and optimistic and that's the Emma that I fell in love with. It really doesn't matter how much you've changed to me because at the core, you're still Emma. It's just...we used to be best friends. I knew Emma better than I know myself."

Here Norman pauses to take a breath and try to decipher Emma's reaction. She still looks surprised but he can't figure out what she's thinking. Instead, he presses on.

"For the longest time, the only thing I could rely on was my brain. I've always known the right path to take, I can trust my knowledge. But now...you're still Emma but it's like I hardly know you. I know why that is but I still have trouble accepting that, of all people, I don't know things like your favourite flower or something." Norman flails an arm to emphasize his feelings.

Emma is biting her lip, seemingly deep in thought while a glance at Ray shows him studying the ground with intense fascination.

"It's not that I don't want to learn more about the new you, because I do! It's just become a habit to think I know what Emma loves and when I'm proven wrong, it's like the world has flipped on its head for me."

Norman bows his head, waiting for either Ray or Emma to speak now that his confession is over. They both remain silent. Finally, he looks up in exasperation.

Emma is staring up at the sky, looking completely lost while Ray is trying his hardest not to laugh.

"Guys?" Norman asks hesitantly and the flood gates open. Emma is sighing at him loudly while Ray laughs so hard he can't breathe.

"Stupid Norman," Ray chortles while Emma nods her head in agreement. While Norman gives them an affronted look, Emma shakes her head.

"Norman, you've already done the hard part," she finally says to him.

"What," Norman asks blankly; the conversation was going in a direction he didn't expect and he was left completely lost.

"As far as you're concerned, it's just confusing that the little things have changed right? Not that you wish the other Emma was here instead?"

Norman's eyes widen because that was a question which he has never even considered. He anxiously thrums his fingers on his leg, to ground himself while trying his best to answer honestly. "I won't lie and say that I don't miss the Emma I grew up with, but I appreciate her sacrifice. I meant it when I said that the best thing was for me to know you were happy and safe. That's all I've ever wanted for Emma."

"The little things that give you so much trouble? They would've been different, regardless. People's tastes change y'know and you've been separated from Emma for four years now," Ray rolls his eyes at Norman. Norman winces because those four years of separation weren't something he liked to think about.

"Maybe it's the way you're going about it? You want to think of me as the same but different at the same time," Emma muses, putting a finger on her chin as she turns to Ray.

"Huh?" Norman isn't even going to pretend he has any idea where this conversation is going.

Ray nods, "Norman is kind of stupid like that, he won't get it any other way."

Emma grins before sticking her hand out towards him. Norman stares at it, utterly baffled.

"Hi, I'm Emma!" Her eyes flick meaningfully towards her outstretched hand as she smiles beatifically at him.

"I know who you are?" Norman questions, eyes darting between Emma and Ray. Ray gives him a look, practically ordering him to play along so Norman does, quickly shaking Emma's hand and introducing himself.

"Get to know me from scratch," Emma tells him, leaving no room for argument. "Then those little things won't come as a surprise." She looks down, letting out a small laugh. "We'll kind of be on the same playing field that way."

That sends a shock through his system. Emma was working so hard to get to know all of them again, that included the little things which were second nature for those who had grown up together. She was struggling just as much as he was.

Norman smiles. "It's nice to meet you!" He chirps excitedly, warmth spreading through him at Emma's grateful look. Norman slings his arms around his two best friends. "I love you both," he tells them firmly. "Emma is new but I have no idea what I'd be doing without you, Ray."

Emma let out a startled laugh as Ray tries to shove Norman away while he hangs on stubbornly. Soon enough all three of them are laughing like there was no tomorrow.

In between laughs, they catch each other's eyes and Norman is content with the knowledge that things will be better from here on out.

@tpnfanworks

[spellcastersjudgement]

Scoopshipping #33 (I love the way you write those two. Their interactions are so satisfying? Like what Carly notices about Jack and the dumb shit Jack says. I love it so I have to ask for more)

ahhhhh stop youre making me blush!!! 

i am always here to provide scoop needs ask away :D

#33: a forceful kiss

The general rule was that one heard Carly Carmine long before she was seen, be it the clicking of her camera or her laughter. Jack had once thought it was obnoxious that she was always talking, preferred to tune out her ramblings or attempt to shut her down with remarks that made most people never want to speak to him again, but he underestimated how persistent she could be. At first it was annoying, just another journalist looking for their fifteen minutes, but after she’d decided to change the subject of her blog from dueling to politics and was no longer by his side constantly, he began to miss her, much to his own distaste. A few months later he got a girlfriend (or rather, she got him since she was the one that formally defined the relationship) and now the thought of not hearing her voice made him ungodly levels of disappointed. 

Carly left early, long before the sun was up, to head down to the station and get ready for the morning news. Jack almost never saw her before she left, too heavy a sleeper to be woken by her wriggling out from his embrace. The earliest he ever saw her was the early afternoon if she could slip out of preparing for the next day’s program to collapse on the couch, and that was only if he had taken a break from training long enough to stop home for lunch. 

Today, though, there was no distraction. It was almost six o’clock in the morning, the sun not even awake yet, apparently not interested in warming up the December air. Jack didn’t mind the cold, but it was inconvenient that when he arrived at the track to train it was in half-darkness, making him wish his duel runner had headlights. Carly always left before the sun was up, her show beginning at five, right when masochists–morning people, really, but Jack liked his sleep and could never imagine his alarm going off before nine–were waking up for their long commutes. He felt off-balance as he sat up in bed, grunting as his back popped, rubbing his eyes, cursing himself for not being able to fall back asleep. 

He wasn’t quite sure why he was up anyway, and that made him smolder as he stood up, the cold air biting his exposed arms. Carly radiated too much heat for him to wear more weather-appropriate pajamas, which was great when she was here but made for a very uncomfortable walk to where his robe was thrown over the back of a chair. Being warm made his mood improve only by a fraction. 

Jack had walked down the stairs multiple times a day, but right now the way his feet fell against the wood, echoing in the vaulted ceilings annoyed him. If he hadn’t had multiple noise complaints from neighbors regarding his screams at inanimate objects he would’ve yelled at the stairs. It was too quiet, it was cold, it was dark. If he was going to be awake early he should’ve at least been able to see his girlfriend before he left. Now he was alone in the house and Mina wouldn’t be here until nine to make him coffee–not that he was incapable of using the espresso machine, just Mina and Carly had both agreed it was best he stay away from it when he broke the last one for not foaming his milk correctly. 

It had been his fault, he realized now. He wasn’t holding the frothing pitcher correctly, and even though Mina had told him as such, he’d punched it anyway. 

His assistant would have to forgive him for breaking the rule this time. Mina had firsthand knowledge of how he was without coffee, and if the headache set in it would be an even worse morning for him, which would inevitably ruin everyone else’s day. Jack would explain that his recent discovery of a thing called ‘consideration’ had driven him to caffeinate himself, saving his staff from lots of yelling and whining later. 

Standing in the kitchen, Jack wondered when making coffee had become so complicated. When he and Yusei were growing up they’d stirred instant packets into water they’d nuked in the microwave. Now Yusei had graduated to a coffee pot, which was not nearly as high quality as the stuff Jack’s machine produced, but he would be lying if he didn’t miss the simplicity. Now he had to grind the beans, pack them in to the portafilter, get the milk–ugh, too much. He would never have to deal with this nonsense if he were still asleep. 

It was nonsense to have to uncross his arms, which he felt made him appear truly angry with his predicament, but he was once again dangerously close to bitching at whatever he looked at next to fill the silence. The fridge blasted him with cold and he muttered obscenities at the light making him screw his eyes shut. Carly always bought that free-range grass-fed organic milk that came in a carton and made him feel like he was back in middle school flinging chicken nuggets at Yusei and Crow. 

It was skim milk. Water, essentially. Unreal. Someone was getting screamed at for this later. 

Lining up his supplies, he felt like a surgeon. He had half a mind to say “nurse” and hold his hand out expectantly. Of course, there was no one else in the house to play along with him. 

Carly would do it. They always did silly things like that, things Jack would never admit to because he had a reputation. Now he would just have to imagine it. Or not, as the grinder made him jump, the sound breaking the oppressive silence but ruining his thoughts of Carly. At least it smelled nice, perking him up the slightest bit as he packed in the finely-ground beans, attaching it to the machine, putting the shot glass (it had a formal name but Jack could never think of it any other way) under the spout, hoping that whatever setting he switched the machine to wouldn’t make the thing blow up. Milk was next, and by god if he didn’t get this right and lost his mind and broke it again–he could already hear Mina chewing him out. 

That wouldn’t happen, not this time. Though he was annoyed his girlfriend drank the watery mess masquerading as milk, he would not allow that to get him bitched at by his assistant, at least not for this. 

Did the steam wand have to be so squeaky and loud and–ugh, awful. He was glaring at the bubbles forming on the milk, thinking about being up, being cold, feeling lonely in this huge house without another person, without Carly. 

He was veering into dangerously sentimental territory, and when Jack Atlas got sentimental he ended up embarrassing himself. 

“Holy–god fuck–shit!” he cried, the metal of the pitcher burning his palm. Dropping it on the counter with minimal spilling, the steam was whistling through the wand no longer muffled by milk, and he stared at it, holding his hand under the faucet, nice and livid, wanting to wrench the thin silver rod off the machine. 

He did not do that, he wouldn’t do that. Turning various knobs until the noises stopped and the lights on the machine turned off, he dumped the espresso in the first cup he saw, which was actually a cup that Akiza had given Carly, the two of their smiling faces looking up at him, mocking his anger. His girlfriend would most likely key his motorcycle if he ruined the cup and take pictures of the tears dripping down his face so he vowed to be careful with it as he poured the milk in, not even bothering to make the foam look pretty like Mina did. 

Cleaning up the machine sounded like too much work. The clock read a quarter past six and he wasn’t due at the track until ten. This was the only situation where he would ever complain about having a later start to the day. Sipping the coffee and grimacing at his impatience for it was burning his tongue and aggravating him more. He sunk down on the couch, the black surface of the television reflecting his scowl back at him. Quiet again. 

He sat there for about two minutes, nothing but the slurping of his coffee to keep him company, before he realized he was a fucking idiot. 

The remote sat by his right hand, the television right in front of him, where with a click of the button he could have Carly in front of him, hear her voice, see her smile. He couldn’t believe himself. He blamed it on the fact he’d barely got a quarter of the way down the cup. 

Flicking on the television, Jack jumped at the obscenely loud volume. They’d been playing video games last night, had forgotten to turn down the volume evidently, and he was paying for it now. It wasn’t the right channel, meaning he once again had to lift his arm and move his fingers to click the ‘3,’ a travesty. When would they create televisions that could read his mind and switch the channel itself? 

It was the weather, not Carly, yet another thing to add to why this morning was shit. Jack could do this man’s job, and probably be more entertaining. Cold, that was the forecast. They could say it in one word and switch back to the Carly. 

Jack was about three seconds away from throwing the remote at the screen when he finally got what he’d been suffering through the weather report for. 

“Thank you for that, James,” Carly’s voice made Jack’s mood instantly improve, like the sun was shining directly into the living room. He never cared for the way they did her makeup or hair, felt like it made her look too stiff and pale. Originally the producers had thrown a fit that she dyed her hair green, but she had raised a ruckus worthy of Jack Atlas himself to keep it. They got their revenge by not letting her wear it down, instead pulling it up into a tight bun that aged her about ten years. 

Despite the hair and makeup department’s best attempts to make his girlfriend seem to be a cookie cutter version of every news anchor out there, her energy made Jack wish he could listen to updates about the recent congressional elections all day. His eyes slid shut. Her voice, the way she gesticulated, hands waving in the air to emphasize her point, sometimes accidentally bumping the co-host in the shoulder, the way she’d fidget with her glasses while waiting for an interviewee to answer her question–all of it comforted him. 

And it made him intensely angry. 

Shooting up off the couch, coffee in hand, Jack Atlas thundered up the stairs. He’d never gotten dressed so quickly in his life, jeans and a sweater, the simplest of outfits that he normally detested, and he only took small comfort in the fact they were both designer and perfectly tailored to his body. He set the coffee down momentarily to put in his earrings and pull on his boots. This would be the closest the Master of Faster would ever get to ‘bumming it,’ and if he weren’t thrumming with rage he would have the decency to be angry at himself. 

Back down the stairs, holding the coffee far away from him so it wouldn’t slosh onto the cream-colored sweater because that would be an absolutely horrendous thing. He was already disgracing himself for the purposes of going down to the news station, no need to add insult to injury. 

Living in the heart of a city usually meant uncomfortable levels of noise and constant streams of tourists, but Jack could understand the positives when he only had to drive five minutes to the station (it was really a ten minute drive but he had no regard for speed limits or road signs). 

The short drive over, Jack’s fingers gripped the steering wheel, the other bringing coffee to his lips, eyes glaring over the rim of the cup. This had been a spectacularly unfair morning. Awake too early, cold, having to make his own coffee–all bullshit. The worst part, the part that made him want to start throwing things just to hear them shatter, was that he’d had to suffer through all of this without Carly. He was not going to be shafted like this. 

There weren’t any open parking spaces in front of the station, so Jack pulled into the fire lane and hoped a police officer would ticket him just so he had someone to yell at. Opening the door, he sped up the stairs, shouldering an intern out of the way, voices growing louder. 

Carly. He could hear Carly, long before he saw her as usual. 

Jack had only been here a handful of times, mostly to bring his girlfriend something she’d forgotten, like the one time she’d forgotten her glasses on the nightstand and called him, frantic, on a commercial break. He remembered enough to open the door that would lead him to where she was, though it seemed like her voice was coming from all around him, blaring through speakers, and though not unpleasant it did make locating her difficult. 

“Hey, you can’t–” 

Jack glared at the camera man as he passed, ignoring the illuminated “On Air” sign. Carly was talking about some upcoming charity ball for Christmas that Mina would certainly make them attend, and Jack saw confusion on the co-host’s face as he came to tower over Carly. 

This would get him a dressing-down from Mina, but he had to–he had to roughly grab Carly’s shoulders, hear her squeak in surprise, turn her to face him as he bent in half, hands tilting her face up as he pressed his lips to hers. 

It was a rough, impatient kiss, his fingers sliding in to her hair, searching for those godawful pins that held up her hair, pulling them out one by one, throwing them to the floor as they kissed. Carly was responding in full, her hand on his cheek, noses brushing together, her teeth playfully nipping at his lip. 

“Excuse me, uh, Carly? Can that wait for commercial?” 

Jack growled, pushing his tongue into his girlfriend’s mouth. Her hands slid around his neck, a moan rumbling through her throat, hair falling about her shoulders as he finally freed her hair. The anger in his chest had finally started to subside. 

“Carly, come on, kids are watching this,” 

The co-host (Jack had never bothered to learn his name) pulled her away, his fingers tugging at her blazer. A smacking sound erupted as they separated, and Jack was ready to reach over her and kill this man. 

“Oh, um,” Carly was looking up at him, cheeks flushed and lips glistening with saliva. “Sorry ‘bout that, got excited. Say hi to everyone while you’re here, Jack,” 

Waving vaguely in the camera’s direction, he never took his eyes off Carly. 

“Next commercial break. I’ll be waiting.”