#Fast and furious 2 references

[mypalbuck]

TWO GHOSTS— P. PARKER {2}

↳In which two people, trying to move on from the loss of their lovers, find themselves fated to one another.

pairing: tasm!Peter Parker x female!reader

warnings: NWH SPOILERS! angst, mentions of infidelity, mentions of death

word count: 1.7k

a/n: i tested positive for covid, so I’m not sure if half of this makes sense lol pls lmk if there are any errors. Also when all three peters are in a scene of the fic, y/n will refer to Andrew’s spidey as Pete to not confuse anyone, but when its just andrew spidey and y/n it'll be peter or pete

“So let me get this straight. Your Peter just let you fall to your almost death?” MJ asked, causing you to wince at the thought. Finishing the second glass of water that Peter had graciously handed you, you nodded your head slowly.

“Pretty much.” you laughed nervously before turning to Pretty Brown Eyes whose face was furious, jaw clenched as he closed his eyes briefly before opening them and looking at you. Once you made eye contact with one another the fury faded and turned into what looked like sympathy. But the last thing you wanted was for him to look at you like that.

“I’m okay. Really, Pete” the nickname slipped from your lips before you could register it. Peter ‘Pretty Brown Eyes’ or now Pete was beaming, pushing himself off the wall he was leaning against he gently checked the wound on your forehead that he cleaned for you “I would never have let you fall, Y/N”.

You close your eyes for a brief second before taking a step back and turning to face the two teens. “I think we better go find, your Peter.” The older Peter nodded his head in agreement. “Is there some special place you think he would go?” you watched the teens ponder.

“My Peter used to like the roof of the Daily Bugle. Do you have one here?” the teens nodded their heads but it wasn’t the place their Peter would go. Older Peter or youth Pastor Peter as you had nicknamed him suggested “For me it was the Chrysler Building.”

Pete smiled sadly “Mine is the Empire State”. You excitedly shove your hand into the pocket of the lab coat you were still wearing from work and pull out your keys. Everyone looked at you in confusion before you show Pete the dangling Empire State keyring you have had attached to your keys since you got your first car. “It’s my lucky charm…” you smiled sheepishly at Pete whose jaw was dropped. He regained composure before reaching his hand out to your outstretched on. You gently place the keys in his hand and let him examine the keyring. You admired him as a small smile forms on his face and his pretty brown eyes begin to twinkle. If you could stop time, you’d choose to stay in this moment forever.

But that’s not how things work...

MJ’s eyes lit up as she realized where her Peter’s special spot is. “I think I know where he is.” Everyone nodded their heads and prepared themselves to leave. You felt Peter place your keys back into your lab coat.

“That’s a cute keyring.” you smiled at him and nodded in agreement. “It’s very dear to me, someone special gave it to me”. Peter’s eyebrows furrowed as he guessed “Your Peter?” as you shook your head no, you watched his whole body relax.

“I don’t have a Peter anymore… but no, not him. It was my best friend whom I lost.” You felt Peter place a gentle hand on your shoulder “I’m sorry…” you looked up at him and shook your head “Don’t be, she wouldn’t have wanted me to be sad”. Peter nodded his head, a sad smile still etched onto his face as he guided you out the door. Peter placed an arm around your shoulders and pulled you closer to him so he could talk to you privately.

"Don't worry, Y/N. I'll be your fill in Peter." you gasped softly, your heart began to beat so fast as you tried to hide your beaming grin with a cough. You looked up to his kind face, his eyes showed nothing but sincerity and you began to feel yourself fall for him.

"I'd like that very much."

You only hoped that he would be there to catch you.

It felt so foreign, yet so natural to be in Pete’s arms as you all let MJ and Ned hug their Peter. You waited with the two other Peters, waiting for the right time to reveal yourselves to the young Spider-Man. MJ looked towards you and signaled that it was time for you all to show yourselves. You felt Pete tug you closer to him as he moved into the light. Warmth spread on your cheeks, you couldn’t remember the last time your Peter had held you. It had been a very long time, how did you not see the signs… Snapping back into reality, you listened to the young spider explain how no one knew what he was going through.

“I lost my Uncle Ben.” the older Spider-Man spoke as he tried to reassure the teen that he wasn’t alone in what he was going through and that they too had lost someone dear to them. You felt Pete tense next to you as he spoke “I- I lost Gwen… She was my MJ.” you gasped in surprise that Gwen existed in another universe. You knew that she would have been just as brilliant as your Gwen and that her death would have ruined Pete the way your Gwen’s death ruined you. You gently squeeze Peter’s arm in sympathy before turning to the young Peter “I lost my Peter. He didn’t die, I just wasn’t meant to be included in the next phase of his life. But the same night, I lost my Gwen. She died saving a child from a pumpkin bomb, The Green Goblin had thrown their way”. You turned away from the young boy to wipe the tears that you didn't realize were falling down your cheeks. As you turned, you made eye contact with a pair of pretty brown eyes which were also filled with tears. He reached into a hidden pocket of his suit and handed you a handkerchief. “She was the best, wasn’t she.” Peter spoke quietly as you took the handkerchief from him noticing the cute little 'P' that had been stitched into the corner of it. You nodded your head in agreement and wiped your eyes “The very best.”

As you stepped into the science lab, you felt your body immediately relax and you sighed in relief. You heard a chuckle from behind you and turned to see the younger Peter smile at you before asking “What’s with the lab coat?” you laughed and walked over to one of the tables and sat down “I work for Oscorp, I specialize in cross-species genetics.” you saw the younger Peter get giddy with excitement before he began pestering you with questions.

As you laughed and answered Peter’s questions to the best of your ability, from the corner of your eyes you saw Pete sit down beside you at the bench. He was now wearing a lab coat similar to yours, rubber gloves and safety goggles.

You giggled at him, and he raised an eyebrow at you mockingly. You hated to admit it, but seeing him all decked out in science gear made him even more attractive to you. He reached into his lab coat and pulled out another pair of safety goggles and gloves before sliding them over to you “Here, wouldn’t want you to poke your eyes out.”

You smirk and cross your arms before sighing in dramatically and putting everything on. “Fineee, if you insist” you watched him smile as if he had won the lottery, this made butterflies erupt in your stomach. You patted your stomach in retaliation causing the older Spider-Man to look at you funny. You smiled sheepishly before starting to work on an antidote for Sandman.

You zone out as you began to work, just as you finish you overhear the two older Peters talking. “Have you got someone back home?” you watched at Pete tensed and laughed sheepishly in response “No…I got no time for… uh, Peter Parker stuff. You know?” You felt your heart break hearing this. You placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it comfortingly. Pete squeezed the hand you had placed on his shoulder and smiled weakly at you before turning back to the older Peter “Do you?” You watched Pastor Peter chuckled “It’s a little complicated.” You nodded your head understanding.

“I guess it’s just not in the cards for guys like us.” Pete said, avoiding the look of sympathy casted his way and continued to work on Dr. Connors’ antidote.

The older Spidey sensing Pete's sadness spoke up “Well… I wouldn’t give up. Took a while, but… we made it work.”

“Yeah?” You watched flecks of hopefulness pass through Pete's eyes. You wanted nothing more than to hug him and reassure him that everything would be okay.

“Yeah, me and MJ. Well, my MJ.” You looked at the older Peter and smiled “It gets confusing, huh…” both Peters chuckle and nod their heads.

You laughed in agreement and nodded your head before grinning sheepishly “I guess it would become even more confusing if I told you that my middle name is MJ and I used to go by that as a kid…but at some point I guess it just sounded wrong coming from some people’s mouths.” you smiled sadly at the two Peters who looked at you gobsmacked. The older Spidey laughed “So I guess that would make you the MJ of your universe…” you nodded your head and laughed “I guess it does.”

The older Spidey turned to Pete who was still staring at you in shock. “Well I guess you just haven’t met your MJ” he tore his gaze away from you to look at the older man who smiled knowingly.

But you shook your head in disagreement “I guess since I’m the MJ of my universe, that would mean I’m technically meant to end up with my Peter. But that didn’t happen…and I guess my Harry Osborn is actually Harriet Osborn. She is the one my Peter left me for, can you believe it. He left me because she was pregnant… even though he refused to start a family with me” At this point Pete had begun to choke on air, you turned and began to pat his back to help him breathe again. “I’m okay.” he wheezed.

“I’m so sorry to hear that, Y/N.” the older Peter said sadly. You raised your hand and waved it at him “It’s in the past. I’ve moved on, seems the fates have one sick and twisted sense of humor. I guess that means I’ll be alone forever or get offed by a villain”.

You laughed bitterly but Pete didn’t find the humor in what you had just said. He turned to you and grabbed your shoulders “You are brilliant. You don’t need him. Look at where you have gotten yourself in life, did you need him to get you where you are?” you thought about it and shook your head no “You’re right, thank you Pete.” he smiled in return, but his hands still lingered on your shoulders “Anytime, MJ.” you froze for a second, but as you went to open your mouth to correct him you stopped.

For some unknown reason it sounded so perfect coming from his mouth, the way he said your name made you wonder why you ever stopped going by it. You wanted to hear him call you MJ for the rest of your life.

Pete looked seriously into your eyes as if he was trying to convince you that you would be okay “We’re going to get your home, MJ and you’re going to meet the love of your life and have a bunch of babies.” You laughed at this, but didn’t miss the flicker of emotions and how Peter’s voice faltered slightly when he said the last part. Was that jealousy? or sadness that flickered through those gorgeous brown eyes. You weren't sure.

“You’ll meet your MJ, Pete. Don’t give up.” You pulled him in for a hug, taking a moment to savor the feeling of him holding you. It felt like coming home, which was so strange for having known this man for only a few hours.

“Peter!” all three Peters turned towards Ned. You laughed at the confused look all three Peters seemed to share. They indeed were like brothers, each so similar yet so different from one another.

“Okay, Y/N you stay here with Ned and MJ.” you nodded your head as Ned opened the portal to the Statue of Liberty, it was time for the plan to commence. To say you were nervous would be an understatement. You were terrified, not for yourself but for the Peters. God, if anything were to happen to Pete you surely would loose your mind. Your not sure what it was about him, but you had become fiercely protective of him. You felt it was your duty to mend the broken pieces of his heart and to show him that no matter how cruel life could be towards him, that you'd be the one there to shelter him from it all.

One by one, each Spidey walked through the portal. Peter 1 and Peter 2 as they had come up with to make their plan go smoother walked further onto the statue but Peter 3 stopped and turned back to face you “Please stay safe…” he gave you the most adorable puppy eyes you have ever seen, once you nodded your head in promise you ran towards him and jumped into his arms pulling him into a hug. You felt him pull you so tightly against him, savoring the feeling of you in his arms as if his life depended on it. Burying your head into his neck you whispered so quietly you didn't think he heard you but he did "Please be safe and please look after little Spidey, he's just a kid."

Peter squeezed you tighter, a non-verbal way of promising you that everyone would come out of this fight unscathed. He reluctantly let go of you and gave you a goofy grin before saying "You smell like coffee." you laughed and nodded your head, "It's my facemask, maybe we can have a slumber party one day and I can put one on you." you laughed as Peter eagerly nodded his head in agreement.

Casting you one last smile, he turned around and disappeared from sight. You turned towards Ned and MJ who were grinning at you “What?” you shrugged, unsure of what they were smiling at. “He likes you.” Ned sang as MJ snickered next to him. You couldn’t help but smile at their childlike innocence, you prayed they would hold onto that for as long as they could.

Next part

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Masterlist

Taglist: @tsukishimawhore @apoloslut @lokisel @l4mentis1 @stormbeyondthewall @bethanyhasjoinedthechatroom @ohashley101 @4rin4 @im-nada @eg-dr3amer3 @pretty-pillow-princess @imsuperbored @m-ar-i @tuxic @insomniac-nerd-posts-things @saltedcoffeescotch @xoxoloverb @lizzieann143 @shoxji @aubreylovesthegames @ay0nha @itsnotquimey @having-fun-is-what-i-do @doctorsgirl262 @buckys-vibranium-arm @cyanide-mustard @idfk-random @notalxx @haroldpotterson @ghostspf @spencybear @idli-dosa @kyushii @silverwindptv

(If your user has a line through it, means I couldn’t tag u for some reason 💔)

[thetwobosses]

"I'm Jack Armstrong in the newsroom with this special report: In the '50s it was called "racing for pinks", and was seen as a rite of passage for the youth of America. But today, in Stilwater, far from seeing pink, local police and medical personnel are too often seeing red. High speed drag racing, circuits that wind through the roughest parts of town, and in almost every case, destruction, maiming, and death follow in these street racers' asphalt wakes. Innocent bystanders are not only suffering from fear and sleeplessness, they too can become victims, joining the drivers for trips to the emergency room. So far, authorities have not been able to bring this raging case of the speedies under control. For now, these criminals are moving too fast, leaving those authorities too furious. For updates, tune to us for the latest details and information. For Jane Valderamma, Flying Officer Mike McCabe, and all of us in the newsroom, I'm Jack Armstrong."

[More SR newscasts]

[whiteqnn]

PURE [2] - Corpse Husband x Fem! Reader

Pairing: Corpse Husband x Fem!Reader

A/N:  443 notes?! THIS IS INSANE! Thank you guys so much for all the love under the first part of this, I was so shocked to see how many people enjoyed this story! I hope this one will be just as fun for you as the first one ^^

part 1

part 3 

part 4 

part 5

PURE [2]

Corpse stared at the red screen with the word IMPOSTOR written in the middle, his eyes widened, a small smile tugging at his lips. 

“No way” he murmured into his microphone, no longer holding himself from breaking into laughter. “Do you guys see this? I wish I could see Y/N’s reaction.”

It took his audience just a second to respond, his chat being flooded with lots of comments about the said girl. 

“SHES SHOOK” he managed to read one from the hundreds of comments, once again bursting into laughter. “Yeah, I can imagine.”

He decided to follow Lily for a while to make himself less suspicious. He probably didn’t need to do that this time, since the others usually suspected him when he was innocent. Ironically, each time he was the impostor, they seemed completely blind to every murder he committed. 

They were both doing their tasks in O2 when the first body was reported. 

“Woah, Y/N is fast” he mumbled, before unmuting himself. 

“Okay,” Lily began speaking first “Corpse is 100% innocent, we were together this whole round, doing our tasks in O2. That’s all I have.”

“Yeah I saw you guys in there,” Felix said. “Where’s the body Sykkuno?”

“Um, so first of all I can also vouch for Dave and Y/N, we were hanging out all this time. So in the beginning, we were all in the upper engine, protecting each other like good friends that we are, and then we headed towards the medbay. And that’s where it gets interesting because I’m pretty sure I saw Poki leave medbay and run to the cafeteria.”

“You really think I would kill my best friend in the first round?”

“Yeah well, some people do” Sean scoffed, clearly referring to the last game when he was murdered by Felix. “Besides, I saw you guys when I was leaving Security so it looks like you were with her the entire round.”

“Wha- Okay, let me defend myself. I would never kill her if I was the impostor, which I’m not because she’d literally come barging into my room to murder me. She’d kill me for killing her first.”

Toast, who seemingly still held grudge against Corpse’s fellow impostor, decided to call Y/N out “Y’know, we all played with Rae before, so we all know how furious she gets after being killed first... but there’s one person who doesn’t know that.”

“Y/N/N?” Sean’s voice blared through their headphones “As much as I know how hard it would be for her to make the first kill, I can actually see that happening.”

“What?! Sykkuno vouched for me literally seconds ago, where the heck did you get that from Toast?” she asked in utter shock. Corpse glanced at his chat and leaned towards his mic, making sure that he was muted in the game.

“Y’know guys, if I didn’t know she’s the impostor, I’d believe in her every word. I mean, she’s so innocent, just listen to her.” he said with a smile, not expecting in the slightest how his audience will react. 

“Aww, he goes soft for her ^^” 

“The duo we need but don’t deserve”

“Y/N FOR THE BRIDE”

“What?” he almost stuttered, quickly going through the growing number of such comments. “I mean-”

“Ooh, someone’s getting angry. Where the heck? That’s aggressive, Y/N” Felix’s amused voice brought him back to reality, and even though Corpse didn’t use a webcam, he still tried to hide his pink-tinted cheeks in the material of his hoodie.

“It was not me! I swear! I was doing my tasks all this time, making sure that no one murders Sykkuno or Dave!” 

“You’re pretty defensive for someone who claims to be innocent,” Toast said with a smirk hiding in his voice. 

“Give her a break guys, she was literally with us all this time. I’m sure we would’ve noticed if she killed somebody” Dave stood up for her, but it seemed like all the attention was directed from Poki to Y/N. 

“Well maybe the other impostor is either you or Sykkuno and you’re just trying to clear each other?”

“Um, if there were two impostors among the three of us, the third person would have to be a crewmate. I mean, it would be impossible for them to kill somebody without a crewmate seeing it.” Sykkuno pointed out, much to Corpses’ relief. 

“I knew Sykkuno would vouch for her” he told his chat, before unmuting himself to defend Y/N as well “Haven’t we already established that Poki is sus as well? She was last seen near the body and has no alibi.” 

“I didn’t do it. The only person that could vouch for me is dead, we were with each other the entire round. I leave her for a few seconds and somebody kills her, but it wasn’t me.” 

“I don’t think she’s lying guys, I mean, if she killed Rae she’d probably be dead already” Felix chuckled “Let’s just skip this round, we don’t have enough evidence.”

“Alright, but Y/N,” Toast said, as everyone pressed the skip button “I have my eyes on you.”

Corpse could hear her sigh before everyone muted their mics. 

“We’ve gotta get rid of Toast guys, he’s too suspicious. I don’t want him accusing my partner in crime, even though he’s right” he chuckled under his breath, following Toast’s character into Admin. “Alright, Felix is with us as well, good. If I just pretend I’m doing card swipe, they’re gonna both vouch for me since everyone knows I’m great at this task.” he shook his head with a deep laugh escaping his throat. 

He could see the other two astronauts running around admin, before they both decided to leave, which gave Corpse a perfect opportunity to frame Toast. He killed the lights and chased his victim who, much to his joy, was now completely alone in comms. 

“Hi, Felix. Bye, Felix.” Corpse snapped his neck before speeding out of the room and venting into Navigation.

That’s when someone fixed the lights. And Corpse jumped out of the vent, only to come face to face with none other than Toast. 

“SHIT” he laughed in panic, seeing that he couldn’t use the kill function yet. “Shit, he must’ve seen me.”

And indeed, it took Toast just a split of second to run out of the room and speed towards the emergency button, Corpse hot on his tail, even though he knew he wouldn’t avoid getting ejected. 

“I’m busted guys, there’s no way they’re gonna believe me” he told his audience, watching as Toast’s character approached the button. However, Corpse wasn’t sure if he was just seeing things, but he thought that he saw an outline of another character appear out of nowhere just mere seconds before Toast called the meeting...

“YES” he almost screamed, at the same time laughing hysterically, when he saw the red cross decorating Toast’s name. 

“WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?!” Sean yelled, similarly to every other player that remained alive. “HOW DID THAT HAPPENED?!”

“Oh my God.”

“But- I don’t get it. What just happened?” Y/N’s soft voice sounded out, making Corpse laugh even more. 

“Someone killed Toast the moment he called the meeting.” Sykkuno explained, barely holding himself from laughing.

“Is that even possible?” she asked confused, her voice sounding so innocent and sweet that the other impostor couldn’t stop himself from grinning.

“Oh my god, she’s just- I can’t.” he chuckled deeply “She’s too precious guys, I swear I’m gonna do everything to keep her alive.”

“Yeah, that’s some big brain move. And since Toast is dead, there’s only one person with balls who could do it” Sean said, clearly very sure of his next words.

“CORPSE!” Lily chirped into her microphone, her voice soon being followed by others who eagerly agreed with her. 

“Okay, I admit I saw them in admin where I was doing the card swipe, but then they both left and I haven’t seen them anymore.”

“Were you in admin this whole time?” Poki asked. 

“Um- yeah, pretty much. I tried to beat my own record in failing a card swipe.” he replied, making everyone laugh. He thought of it as a good cover, unless someone entered the admin after he left... 

“Sykkuno where are you?” Poki directed her next question to the lime astronaut.

“Why am I accused again?” he asked confused “I was with Sean in medbay, I think Y/N joined us for a moment to do the scan, then she left, and then Toast called the meeting.”

“So maybe it’s her?” Dave commented “I mean, medbay is right next to the cafeteria, so she had quite an easy access to the emergency button.”

“Yeah, that would actually make sense” Lily added.

“Oh no, they’re gonna vote her off...” Corpse mumbled under his breath, deciding that he had to intervene. She just saved his ass, he couldn’t possibly just watch her get ejected because of that. 

“Guys, I didn’t even know it was possible to kill someone this way. Trust me, I played only a few times and Jack made sure not to reveal any of his big brain moves.” she scoffed at the last part, making Jack let out a loud laugh.

“How can we be sure you’re not just acting all innocent? I mean, you exposed Felix last game, being one of the last people to stay alive.”

“Y/N was with me when Toast called the meeting, she is innocent” Corpse decided to finally speak up. The silence settled among other players. “She found me in admin and made sure nobody killed me when I failed the fucking card swipe.”

“Why are you saying this just now, Corpse?”

“Cause he’s fallen for her god damn trap! I told you!” Sean argued.

“What trap?” Y/N asked confused.

“I mean, who wouldn’t? It’s like listening to an angel” Corpse said, before he could stop himself. Everyone on the call went wild, just like his chat did... He didn’t know why he said that, it just slipped before he really thought about it.

“Corpse, you do realize you’re simping only makes you even more suspicious?” Poki asked with a laugh, and Corpse felt the blush rising up his cheeks. Even more, when Y/N completely ignored this comment, deciding to suddenly stay quiet...

Did he make her uncomfortable with such comments?

“Seriously though, I’m pretty sure it wasn’t her. We watched each other’s back, so I’m also clean.” 

“As much as I hate to do it, I have to agree with Corpse on this one” Sean suddenly said. “That she’s innocent, I mean. I’m sure Corpse just follows her around like a lost puppy and I didn’t see the two of them, but I doubt Y/N knew it’s possible to kill somebody like that. No offense kiddo.”

“See? Guys, it wasn’t me!” she exclaimed. 

“Wait, why do you hate to agree with me?” Corpse asked in confusion.

“CAUSE YOU’RE KINDA SUS CORPSE” 

“What? I just told you my alibi, weren’t you listening Jack?”

“We have twenty seconds left” Lily reminded, cause everyone seemed to forget about the voting time. “We don’t skip at 7, right?”

“Alright, I’m voting Corpse, I still think he’s sus even though I agreed with him.” Sean announced, much to Y/N’s dismay. She quickly objected, trying to defend her fellow impostor:

“It’s NOT him, I watched him fail that dang card swipe!”

“DANG?! NO NEED TO BE SO OFFENSIVE YOUNG LADY” 

“I’m also voting Corpse, he must be one of them.” Lily agreed with Jack.

“Sykkuno, I hope you’re not doing what I think you’re doing” Y/N asked the lime astronaut, who was silent for the past few minutes.

“I um- I don’t know, they kinda have a point Y/N...”

“Sykkuno, listen to me.” she lowered her voice, trying to convince him “Corpse is not the impostor. You know you can trust me, right?”

“...”

“SYKKUNO GOD DAMN IT, DON’T LISTEN TO HER!”

“Sorry guys...”

Corpse burst out laughing, seeing that out of seven remaining players, five of them decided to skip. 

“She’s too good” he chuckled, quickly running up Y/N’s character when they started the next round. He circled her white astronaut, and she seemed to get his message because she eagerly followed him into Electrical to fake the tasks and wait for someone to show up. 

Soon enough two figures waltzed into the room, only to be simultaneously decapitated by the two impostors, who then swiftly vented into medbay and locked the door to their crime scene. 

“That was smooth” Corpse smiled, happily running around Y/N’s character. “I love being impostors with Y/N, it’s so much fun. The best thing is that no one besides Toast really suspects her of doing something wrong.”

Corpse figured Y/N sabotaged the oxygen because the next thing he saw was Lily running past medbay to stop it from depleting. 

“Ladies first, Y/N” he mumbled, and even though she couldn’t hear him, her small character sped up and left the medbay, chasing after Lily. He waited a few seconds, before bursting out laughing.

Victory. 

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” Sean yelled in shock “Y/N?! EXPLAIN YOURSELF RIGHT NOW”

“Y/N HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME?!”

“That was... I would never guess it was you!” 

“I’m sorry guys, I really didn’t want to kill any of you” she laughed apologetically, but Corpse could sense she was smiling “I just had no other choice...”

“Yeah, I’m sure you killed us by accident” Toast’s voice blared out, followed by loud laughter.

“What was that again? I didn’t even know you could kill someone this way?” Felix mocked in a high pitched voice, making them laugh hysterically. Corpse also found himself unable to catch a breath between his giggles.

“I told you guys they’d fuck us up.” Rae spoke up “But I was actually glad Y/N killed me first, watching her kill Toast was so much fun.”

“Ha ha, thanks, Rae!” Toast exclaimed ironically.

“Y/N and Corpse are just complete serial killers, I don’t know how else to comment that” Felix chuckled. 

“Well...” Corpse mumbled, unmuting his microphone “I can’t disagree. She’s a perfect partner in crime.”

“NOT AGAIN WITH SIMPING CORPSE” he heard Sean’s response, and once again felt awkward when his all his friends laughed at him, and Y/N remained quiet. 

That was, however, until her soft voice effectively quietened everyone. 

“It was.. an honor to murder my friends with you.” 

Corpse never thought his face could hurt from smiling so much...

“Alright, who’s up for another game?” Felix asked after a few moments, and received a chorus of me’s from almost everyone. 

“Unfortunately I have to go now, but it was so fun playing with you guys!” Y/N said, making everyone (Corpse included) object rather loudly:

“One more round, please? I want to see you kill someone again!”

“C’mon kid, what else do you have to do?”

“Stay with us Y/N, I need someone to protect me!” 

“I’m sorry but I’m really tired. I’m sure I’d just fall asleep on my desk and Toast would come up behind my back to murder me.”

“Well, that was actually my plan...” the man in question replied with a chuckle.

“You sure you don’t wanna stay?” Corpse finally asked “Killing won’t be the same without you...”

“I know, and I’m sorry... But I was working the whole day and my eyes just hurt and I feel like I’m gonna faint” she replied. 

“Alright, but just so you know, we’re playing again later this week, and I better see you entering the lobby on time” Felix said, trying to sound threatening, but failing at it. Y/N giggled to herself, the sound making Corpse smile almost unknowingly. 

“I wouldn’t dare to miss a chance to murder my new friends!” 

“Oh my god, she’s too adorable!” 

Everyone said their goodbyes and soon Y/N left the call, her small astronaut disappearing from the lobby, much to Corpse’s disappointment. He wished she’d stay a little longer, playing with her was something he found incredibly fun and quite relaxing if he was completely honest. Or maybe aside from playing itself, listening to her voice was what kept bringing a smile to his face every time she spoke up. 

“Guys, I think I’m also gonna call it a day, it was really fun.”

“What? It’s not even been over an hour!” Rae protested. 

“Yeah, I um.. I know but-”

“Don’t push him guys, he can’t play without his partner in crime” Toast’s teasing voice made everyone burst out laughing, and Corpse just shook his head, glad that nobody could see how red his face became.

“Fuck you guys, okay?” he chuckled into the mic, before finally saying his goodbyes and leaving as well. He thanked his viewers for watching and promised to stay longer next time, before closing the discord. 

He sat for a moment in his chair, staring at the black screen, a smile slowly widening on his lips. It was one of the best games he had ever played in Among Us, and he couldn’t wait to be Impostor with Y/N again. 

“Perfect partner in crime... I’m such an idiot” he mumbled under his breath and felt himself blush, shaking his head at how awkward that must’ve sounded. He pulled his phone out and checked his Twitter, only for his eyes to widen once he saw the top trending hashtags. 

#Y/NxCorpse

#Y/NfortheBride

#PerfectPartnerInCrime

“Oh my God...” Corpse yelped, covering his eyes with his hand as if it would make all those tweets disappear. “Why am I the way I am?” 

He considered texting her, trying to maybe make things less awkward than they already were, but decided against it. He feared he’d make even more of an idiot out of himself... 

Convinced that all those comments about simping and now those hashtags made her uncomfortable, it didn’t even cross his mind that Y/N might be looking at them at the exact same moment, with adorable blush tinting her cheeks, and her lips turning into a small, shy smile...  

A/N: I think about writing 3rd part... 

[finelinevogue]

HI! HOPE U HADE AN AMAZING DAY TODAY😊!!

Could you do one where your three children are teaching you and Harry to do a TikTok dance? (Or maybe just Harry)

And the next thing you know it goes viral?

this is too cute i’ll cry :( i’m going to continue to write with the same children characters so Oliver, Felix and Isabella. in this one Oliver is 16, Felix is 14 and Isabella is 11.

ok so imagine it’s a rainy saturday afternoon.

The rain had been most unforgiving today. It was coming down in bath loads. As much as you loved listening to the rain at night as it sent you to sleep, you hated it when it meant you couldn’t go and fulfil adventures with your kids. Especially this Saturday in particular since it was Harry’s first day off in a long while. You all had plans to visit a nearby castle and were going to take a picnic to have out, but the weather had other plans for you.

Instead, you’d spent the day inside and all cuddling together whilst watching movies. Each of your children were allowed to pick out a movie; Oli chose Fast and Furious 8, Fix chose Thor: Ragnarok and Belles chose Moana. Harry didn’t allow Belles watch Fast and Furious because it was quite graphic and contained bad language, so you and her went to make cookies for later.

It was now later.

“Ok who wants cookies?” You shouted to the boys in the other room, who you could hear had finished up their movie.

Belles and you had spent the last few hours baking your cookies. An assortment had been made; raspberry and white chocolate, raisin and oat and dark chocolate and orange. They were the three flavours that your family loved the most so they were always the ones you ended up baking.

You pulled out five glasses along with the milk you’d kept cool in the fridge. The Styles family absolutely loves cookies with milk, it was your guilty pleasure. It had started as a tradition when Oli was little and you’d just carried it on ever since. The way the warm cookies melted away like butter in your mouth and then downed with refreshing creamy milk was absolute bliss. It was a treat like no other.

“No you do it like this!” Flix stated, but about what you had no idea.

“What are you on about? It’s like this!” Oli challenged his brother, making you really curious as to what was going on as they approached the kitchen.

“Both of you are no help.” Harry finished the conversation, playfully hitting them on the backs of their heads as they entered the kitchen. It never failed to surprise you how tall your sons were in comparison to Harry. You were little in comparison, well apart from your little Belle. They were the spitting image of their dad and you couldn’t believe how alike they both looked, regardless of their 2 year age gap.

“What’s the fuss for?” You asked your boys, as you poured and handed Belle a cup of milk. She grabbed it with two hands and drank carefully, as Harry passed her and stroked his hand over his daughters hair once - out of habit.

“Trying to teach dad this TikTok dance, but he’s absolutely useless!” Oli laughed, seating himself at the kitchen island and Flix sitting next to him.

“Yeah only ‘cause you’re a crap teacher!” Flix playfully shoved his brother, who rolled his eyes at him.

“Oi.” Harry warned, not wanting the bad language to be picked up by Belle. You and Harry didn’t mind you sons swearing, as long as they weren’t too harsh words, but as long as it was only in front of just you two.

Don’t tell Grandma Styles this though.

“Sorry.” Flix held up his hands in surrender, pouring himself a glass of milk and then one for his brother.

“Mummy? Can I have a cookie now please?” She sweetly asked. You helped her up and onto the kitchen counter, next to the plate of gooey cookies. It didn’t take long for Harry to walk over and protectively stand in front of his daughter in case she fell off the side.

“Let’s see this dance again then, Ol.” Harry requested, Oli picking up his phone with a cookie wedged in his mouth and turning it around to show him. You had a little look for yourself too and laughed at the fact that Harry didn’t understand how to do it. It was a simple little dance to ‘Still the One’ by One Direction, which resulted in two people making a heart with their arms. It was so cute and simple and yet Harry was so uncoordinated.

“Oh you are such a plank.” You laughed, referring to how he was as solid as a piece of wood when he attempted to follow the moves on the screen.

It was making Belle laugh though, so it was worth watching your husband wiggle around like a jelly bean on fire.

“Hey, why are you laughing little miss?” Harry pretended to be offended, but could never actually be. He loved his little girl too much.

“Mum you try it with me.” Oli suggested, setting up his phone and coming around to meet you. You were pretty confident that you’d got the hang of it already.

The screen counted down from 3, 2, 1 and then you were copying the actions you’d just learnt. Flix could be seen hovering in the background watching you two ace the dance moves, whilst Harry could be seen devoting his attention to his daughter who had got crumbs all around her face.

“Go mum!” Flix hooted as you finished, joining you and Oli to watch back the video. You laughed at certain points and pointed out certain bits which were off.

“See dad, mum just gets it.” Oli said once you’d finished watching the video, returning to finish the rest of his cookie. Flix finished the rest of his milk before putting it in the sink for you to clean later.

“Alright, let’s me and y’mum have a go then.” Harry suggested, “Flix, watch Belles on there please.” He sternly ordered, not wanting any casualties unless it was him poking himself in the eye from dancing - which was highly likely.

Oli set up the phone again and pressed the countdown once more. Oli stood back with his siblings and laughed happily when he watched his sister trying to join in.

“Go Belle!” Oli cheered, making you turn around to see the commotion between the siblings. It was a blessed sight to watch.

“Oi focus on me, missus. Know they’re cute but focus.” Harry caught your attention as he finished his little dance segment, before you had to follow. You had no idea whether Harry had done it correctly, but you didn’t care it was just fun to be silly and young with him again.

Once you were finished you all laughed as you watched it back, especially as you focused in on the determination on Harry’s face. He’d actually aced it, which he looked awfully smug about.

He’d hold that over you all forever, now.

“Dad can I post these?” Oli asked. He had quite a large following on TikTok, even without posting content containing his dad in. He liked to keep his dad and his relationship quite private - because it was really special to him - so of course Harry welcomed the idea of people getting a slight glimpse of the Styles’ relationships.

You didn’t, however, expect the videos to blow up so much to the point where it became the most liked video on TikTok, talked about on almost every talk show and start a trend on twitter of #StylesforStrictly.

[saintobio]

pov: he’s your rival.

↳ suna rintarou/fem!reader

(this is a spin-off to pov: he’s a racer and you’re the finish line. please click here if you wish to read.)

summary. when your most hated rival challenges you for another race to redeem his losing streak, but what he doesn’t tell you is that reaching the finish line isn’t his only goal.

genre. fluff, humor, rivals, enemies to lovers, street racer au

cw. illegal street racing, street racer!reader, gambling, profanity, reference to sex, smoking, suggestive themes (no actual smut)

notes. yes i gave you fast & furious suki’s car in this bc you deserve it lol thanks to everyone who read the oikawa street racer au. hope you guys will like this spin-off too :)

masterlist

Stupid Suna and his Toyota GT86.

You hated how he always acted so cocky and stubborn whenever he challenged you for a race which he, in fact, always lost. He had enough guts to even attempt racing with you for a couple times, but he just could never win one against you. Embarrassing, really. Say, if it was a four-man quarter mile race, you’d end up 2nd and he’d end up 3rd. If it was a race where only you and him would compete, he’d even fall harder down the embarrassment lane. He was a loser and always would be.

It was hard enough to earn some respect in the underground street racing scene as a girl who could actually freaking drive, but douchebags like Suna would tell you that they were only going easy on you because you were a girl and that you weren’t even that much of a challenge. Fuck him.

You’ve always been interested with cars due to the fact that you grew up with cousins who were all boys. As a matter of fact, as a child, you preferred collecting Hot Wheels instead of Barbie dolls, you preferred watching Formula 1 races than Next Top Model episodes, which of course delighted your father. Your mother? Not so much. She wanted you to act like a normal girl instead of ‘joining these stupid dangerous races’, but at some point, she had given up because you’d still sneak around anyway.

You were 16 when you first learned how to drive and eventually honed your skills enough until you could rightfully join street races. Your dad gave you his old Honda S2000 and you took it by yourself to fully modify the classic car to your liking. Your cousin, Makki, was the reason you were able to join street races firsthand because he was the appointed contact for their crew and he would often take you to watch their races. However, when you left Miyagi and moved to Hyogo, you had to join street races by yourself and build your own reputation in the new environment. It was difficult and you almost went through hell before the folks in Hyogo even considered you to join races which was why it took you at least 2 years to earn some kind of respect—not even fully, at that.

Then your stupid neighbor Suna Rintarou showed up at a race one day with his amateur skills claiming that he could beat your ass if he wanted to. In the first place, the only reason he earned some kind of reputation was because he was recruited by the Inarizaki Crew who were greatly popular, but you weren’t all impressed. Atsumu was their best racer until one crazy incident with his ex caused him to go downhill and eventually stop attending street races. Because of this, Suna was now acting as the main racer for the crew and you had to face against him more than you usually did.

It wasn’t like you were intimidated, though. You two had very different driving styles—him leaning more towards his capability to set the right tempo and catch up in speed during the most crucial moments, while you were known for your drifting skills that you acquired after a series of practices with the infamous Grand King from Miyagi himself. If you weren’t Makki’s cousin, you reckoned Oikawa wouldn’t have generously taught you the techniques that made you one of the skilled street racers in Hyogo.

“Nice car paint job. Looks like Barbie’s out for a drive again,” Suna commented in sarcasm as he walked by your pink Honda S2000 and later leaning his body against the side of your car. His GT86, as well as Kita Shinsuke’s silver Mazda RX-7, were parked behind the starting line in parallel to yours and you could hear the song Everytime That Beat Drop playing from his car.

You rolled your eyes and wiped the hood of your vehicle, unwilling to entertain him. “You wish your car’s as artistic as mine with your basic ass.” No, his GT86 wasn’t basic at all. He actually perfectly modified it with a Rocket Bunny body kit, but you weren’t going to tell him that. Your Veilside Millennium body kit was still better than his and that was a fact.

The guy snorted, clearly amused, leaning on your car way too comfortably while continuing his snarky remarks. “I prefer performance over design. Clearly, a girl like you would think otherwise.”

“And that’s another episode of Rintarou being a misogynistic bitch,” you muttered, scowling at the guy, much to his entertainment. You handed the towel over to one of your crews before putting your hands on your hips. “You know, you’re too loud for a loser.”

The small audience behind your cars were cheering you on as they listened to yours and Suna’s bickering. It was typical for them to witness you two arguing by this point because you only ever antagonized Suna during street races and gave zero shit about other racers. Only this guy could rile you up before your races to try and set you off the mood—a dirty strategy, for fuck’s sake.

“I’m gonna win tonight and I’m gonna make you cry so hard,” he confidently claimed, his foxy eyes turning into moon crescents because of the cocky grin displayed on his face.

You scoffed at his declaration of victory knowing that he never, in his dreams, won a race against you. “Yeah, right. You said the same thing for the past four races and guess what? You’re still on a losing streak.”

0-4 to be exact.

“Fuck off. The four times I went easy on you will end tonight.” He stood back up and gave a more defensive stance to look intimidating. Pfft. “Oikawa got me to swap my engine to a Ferrari 458 V-8 last time I was in Miyagi. It’s a beast.”

“He—what?”

Dammit, how could you forget? Because Suna’s close friend had now started dating Oikawa, he got the chance to get closer to the best known street racer across Japan and probably got enough tips from him. You found it unfair how he was seizing every little opportunity just to play dirty and beat you. God, he knew Miyagi was your turf, he knew the whole Seijoh Crew were all big brothers to you, and you were getting all the high performance parts installed from your cousin’s garage. Sunarin was competitive enough to not miss his chance of doing the same thing.

You pursed your lips in annoyance. “You’re lucky Oikawa’s a simp for his girlfriend that’s why you got access, but I’d say poor Rinrin would still lose tonight. Mark my word.”

“Blah, blah,” he mocked. “Let the cars do the talking.”

“Then shut up, you moron.”

“You shut up, ugly.”

“Look at the mirror!”

I’m tired of seeing your stupid face at every race, you silently thought.

As you two stood face to face with each other like two rivals who were about to get into an actual catfight, Kita suddenly got in between and laughed it off. The guy was Inarizaki Crew’s veteran racer turned contact turned leader and as much as you wanted to hate him, you actually admired his skills so you have some respect for him that you could never give to Suna.

“Easy. I thought you guys reconciled in Miyagi?” Kita asked, playing with the toothpick between his teeth. “Let’s not forget I’m also gonna race tonight. Both of you are just gonna lose to me.”

Suna let out a weary exhale and shook his head in disagreement. “Why are you even gonna race tonight, oldie?”

You also wanted to ask that because they were from the same crew. “What happened to the dude that owned a Subaru WRX STI?”

“Got called for a graveyard shift. Good thing I need some extra cash,” he merely answered, nudging Suna and gesturing to you with a teasing smile. “Didn’t you say you’re looking forward to race with her tonight, Rin?”

Suna quickly and very defensively reacted against it. “Hell no, but I’m gonna get the exhaust on her face if that’s what you mean.”

“You talk a lot of shit, Sunarin.” Your face contorted into a petty frown.

He didn’t get the chance to answer back because Aran Ojiro, the race host and organizer, had joined the three of you and started talking about tonight’s wager.

“Wassup, are my racers ready?” Aran asked, patting yours and Suna’s back. “What do we got? How much do we got?”

“You said thirty-five large,” Kita reminded as he looked at the race host.

Your rival didn’t even take a minute of hesitation to nod. “I’m fine with that but Y/N doesn’t have to empty her pockets ‘cause she’s not even a real opponent.” Suna scoffed on his own, enjoying the fact that you were grimacing at him from a distance. He loved this. He loved pissing you off at every chance he could get.

“You say that but continue to lose,” you huffed before you turned your attention towards an entertained Aran. “I’ll do thirty-five large.”

“Alright, alright! It’s settled, then,” Aran agreed as he started hyping everyone. “Y’all the race is set. We got Suna, Kita, and Y/N for the final line up!”

The small crowd cheered from a distance with most of them yelling Suna or Kita’s name. Some of your girls were also supporting you to once again smoke Rin’s ass and show him that he’s got no chance on you.

Sunarin, on the other hand, seemed thrilled by tonight’s race as he side-eyed you with a smirk creeping up on his lips. “I’d say good luck but it’s not luck that you need.”

“You’re not the clever guy you think you are.”

Tonight’s racecourse was only a 1km route in an abandoned airport runway. The road itself was stretched into a straight line that had only had two turns directing back to the starting line. First one to get back wins, as usual. It was an easy course but the main skill you’d need to have to win this race was setting the right tempo and speed—which was Suna’s strength as a racer.

But no, obviously you weren’t going to let the guy win. You two didn’t even pay attention to Kita because you were both fixated on beating each other to dirt. The sly smirk on Suna’s face annoyed the hell out of you because you could tell that he was thinking of the things he’d say to you once you lost, but sad to say, you were going to make your streak 5-0 tonight.

Osamu was doing last minute checks on your engines while you sat waiting inside of your car. And by the time he shut down your hood, he was coming towards your window with a warm and friendly smile.

“Nice Comptech supercharger,” he complimented, leaning by your window with an arm resting on your car roof. You couldn’t admit it but Osamu was actually attractive and the fact that he was the Inarizaki Crew’s mechanic gave him extra points.

“You think?” you probed, sounding a little flirty than intended. “Maybe tell me what else I can upgrade next time.”

“We’ll see, cutie.” He released a faint chuckle as he stood back up and tapped the roof of your car. You were able to catch a glimpse of Suna who was scowling from inside his car in what seemed like an act of... annoyance? You couldn’t describe. Either way, his reaction made you snigger as you purposefully winked at Osamu with the intention of distracting your rival’s headspace.

“Can you guys stop eye-fucking each other?” Suna let out a bitter huff before violently revving his engine.

You furrowed your brows and responded with, “Mind your business.”

Kita simply laughed from your other side as he, too, revved his. That was Osamu’s cue to walk away and head towards Suna to give him a quick fistbump but your rival barely returned it. Jerk.

“Alright, we ready?” Aran announced to an energetic crowd from the sidelines.

You held on to your steering wheel while watching the sexy flagger in her checkered miniskirt standing between yours and Suna’s car. You glanced at your rival but he was far too focused on the girl in front of him to even notice you. You remembered the flagger’s name being Akiko and she always wore a cropped blouse that exposed her big chest—which you couldn’t blame because her body was freaking hot.

But the way Suna was ogling at her just made you displeased.

“Maybe stop staring at her tits and actually focus on the fucking race,” you said, clutching your gearshift.

“You’re not my mom.”

The bickering didn’t continue because the race was about to begin and all three cars filled up the whole area with roaring engines. It took less than a minute of cheers and some announcements made by Aran before the flagger yelled, “Ready, Set, Go!”

The first thing you did was to step on the gas pedal until it gave you enough advantage to get the lead. Your car was speeding fast, gaining acceleration with each second and you even hit 40 in a few seconds. Kita was tailing closely behind you while Suna came forward last and seeing your rival at the back caused a loud cackle out of you.

“Not too cocky now, are ya?” you yelled out, shifting your gears and increasing your speed.

You could see from your side mirror how Suna put his arm out and gave you the middle finger.

The lead was yours as your car dashed through the path like lightning bolt and you hesitated if it was a good time to use some NOS but considered that it was too early to do so. Suna thought otherwise, because you could see the blue flame on his turbo when he zoomed past you in a blink of an eye.

What the heck? You could never give him the lead, especially with a short course like this. You knew Suna had better chances of winning short tracks than racing in a long complicated route. Put in the topic of ‘running’, sprinting and marathon races are on opposite ends of the spectrum and require very different skills. A sprint focuses on the short term while a marathon focuses on the long run—that was the exact difference between you and him. It was kind of the Inarizaki Crew’s thing to focus on speed than strategy. On the other hand, you focused on strategy (and drifting) than velocity because that was what you learned from Makki and the Seijoh Crew.

There was a nasty grin on Suna’s face that you could see from his side mirror and it irked the shit out of you. “You haven’t won, yet!” you yelled.

He was weird as hell. There was something different about the way Suna drove because he seemed less reckless and more in-control of his car. It even shocked you when you drifted on the first turn and he was able to do the same, if not more precise.

Sunarin had never fucking drifted so perfectly before.

Did he just pick this up from Oikawa? You didn’t want to jump into conclusions but the guy definitely learned his techniques from your cousin’s friend to whom you also treated like an older brother.

God, you felt betrayed.

And because you were awfully distracted with Suna who was only a few meters in front of you, you almost forgot the calm Kita who sneakily used his NOS at the perfect timing.

“See you guys!” Kita shouted while laughing and taking the first place.

Now you were on the third place and you were starting to panic. “Oh, hell no!”

You turned the switch on your own NOS and felt your car accelerating in speed where it felt as if time has warped. Your favorite thing about using nitrous was how it would give you the confidence knowing that the sudden boost could make you catch up to the race.

However, Sunarin the asshole just proved you wrong.

He annoyingly blocked your way with each turn you tried to make—you tried steering the car to the left but his car also skidded to the same direction, you moved to your right and he did the same. He was doing it to piss you off.

You scowled and gripped your steering wheel like you were going to rip it. “Move, bitch!”

“You’re not passing me, babe. Nah-uh!”

A low grunt left your lips while you slightly bumped the rear end of his car in spite.

“Yo, don’t mess my car!” he protested.

You bumped into him once more. “You asked for it!”

“You’re gonna lose so hard, I’ll make you cry!”

His new V-8 engine and his recently enhanced skills certainly made him a different racer than what you were used to. It was leaving you frustrated because you didn’t expect this at all. You expected the same old Suna who was clumsy and incompetent, not this new Suna who looked like he was going to race in the fucking NASCAR.

About a few meters away from the finish line, Sunarin used his NOS and accelerated past Kita’s RX-7 with a triumphant grin on his face. At that exact moment, you already knew your fate and you were certainly not happy about it.

You lost.

Not just a simple defeat, but you actually went third and it was embarrassing to even think about. You weren’t really upset about losing races, you were just frustrated at the fact that you lost to your rival, Suna Rintarou.

He had so much fun mocking you, too. In fact, he was telling you to ‘eat dirt’ and kiss his ass because you lost to him. For fuck’s sake, that guy was truly the epitome of all the bad things in life.

“Did you install the new V-8 to him?” you accused Makki as you spoke on the phone, watching Suna basking in his victory from a distance while you were seated on the hood of your car. Lots of guys and girls surrounded him to praise him for his win. “I can’t believe I lost to him.”

“Wait, you lost?” Makki repeated, releasing a guttural cackle. “Dude, you’re not my cousin anymore.”

“Shut up,” you muttered before exhaling in defeat. “You guys are so unfair. You know he’s my biggest rival! Why’d you help him out?”

“Talk to Oikawa, that’s not my fault! He’s the one mentoring Rintarou whenever the guy’s here,” he responded to his defence and you could hear some shuffling on the background before hearing another voice. You realized he handed the phone to someone else.

“What’s up, baby girl?” Oikawa casually spoke on the other end of the line. “Don’t be a sore loser. It’s just one race.”

You puffed out your cheeks, annoyed. “You taught him how to drift like how you taught me. You even offered him to upgrade his engine.”

“He’s already got the skills, he’s just not showing his full potential,” the guy tried to reason out but you refused to take it. “Look, you two can come down here and we can race again, alright? I’ll make sure you’ll win the next race and—Babe, baby, wait for me in the shower—Hey, gotta go. Talk to you soon.”

“Whatever, that’s TMI. Bye.”

Jesus Christ.

You saw Osamu heading your way just as you ended the call with a pout displayed on your face. He had a smile, not smug, but a comforting one that made you feel a little better.

“You did great,” he reassured, holding his hand up for a high five.

You reached to return it and nodded your head. “Thanks. We’re still 4-1.”

Osamu then let out a chuckle before seating next to you. “You know Sunarin’s gonna let you win more races. Don’t worry about it.”

You didn’t know what else you expected because obviously, obviously he was going to say that Suna just went easy on you on your previous races—because you were a girl and that your wins were all luck. It was frankly disappointing to hear from him. “I won because I can race.”

“I know that and you’re an amazing driver,” he affirmed. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

Slumping, you sighed and realized you were being too much of a sour grape over something like this. You normally wouldn’t but everyone knew that you and Suna were just very competitive with each other to the point where you two couldn’t find other racers as exciting as compared to when you two raced each other. The thrill, the tension, the determination to win—they just weren’t the same if it wasn’t against your most hated rival.

“It’s fine, I—” you trailed off after seeing Suna talking to Akiko with a hand on her waist and an irritating grin on his dumb face. You got so distracted that you literally forgot about your conversation with Osamu, but you decided to be petty and just focused on the Miya twin. “Hey, how’s Atsumu? Haven’t seen him in a while.”

“Still a mess,” Osamu shared, sounding a tad bit stressed over his brother. “I just feel sorry for the people he bothered in Miyagi but seeing his state right now also worries me a bit.”

You could see the amount of worry painted on his face and it made you feel sympathetic. Oikawa and his girlfriend knew that you side with them, especially after everything his girlfriend had gone through with the abusive Atsumu, but you also felt bad for the other twin somehow.

You briefly recalled the time you were in Miyagi for the weekend to watch the Seijoh Crew’s race and it was completely unexpected for you to see Suna and Atsumu’s ex in there.

“That night was crazy,” you said, leaning back and using your hands as leverage. “Never seen Oikawa so angry, plus the whole car chase? Man.”

Osamu found humor through your narration. “You make it sound like you watched an action movie.”

“It kinda was!”

You two smiled at each other with the conversation you were having and you almost didn’t realize that Suna was shooting you a sharp glare—the fact that his eye shape was already narrow even emphasized his glare even more.

You blew him a kiss out of sarcasm and the guy was quick enough to fake-gag like the little bitch he was. So annoying.

“You two are so obvious,” Osamu noted, beaming as he looked straight at his crewmate.

You have no idea, you wanted to say. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I really fuckin’ hate you.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re too cocky just because you won one race against me. You’re still a loser.”

“Anything else?”

You drew in a long deep breath with a moan falling out your lips as he continued running his tongue on the skin of your neck. Your hands were pressed on the backrest of his seat, barely gripping the cushion because the sensation made you weak. His car was already cold as is but being seated on his lap, still clothed but just topless, in a close proximity gave you enough warmth.

“I-I just hate you.”

The corner of Suna’s lips upturned at the slightest quiver on your voice. “You say you hate me but still fuck me once a week.”

You lost the ability to answer because even you, yourself, had no single idea how you two led to this. It all started with one drunk hookup that turned into something more constant after every race and you two would be hate-fucking each other all night.

Now here you were inside his GT86 that was parked at a secluded parking space to be in your usual rendezvous.

Suna roughly pulled your hair back and made you look at him. “You had too much fun talking to Osamu, don’t you?”

You winced at the stretch on your scalp but also secretly liked how he did it. “Why not? You were busy touching Akiko like a creep.”

“You’re jealous,” he stated, smirking knowingly.

“You wish.” You grabbed a fistful of his hair in return and gave him a taunting look. It was give and take—the tighter he pulled on your hair, the tighter you’d pull on his. You could feel his other hand travelling on your waist with a mischievous grin forming on his mouth. “Rin, I’m not jealous. I fucking swear, I’ll beat the shit out of you.”

He simply leaned his head back, allowing you to release your grip on his locks while you watched him enjoy the scene before him. “Whatever, you’re talking to Osamu because you’re jealous. I get it now.”

“What the fuck’s up with your thick skull,” you retorted in total defense. “I said I’m not—”

The bastard beamed in satisfaction and was in absolute triumph at your reaction. “You look pretty when you’re mad.”

That made you raise an eyebrow because he rarely complimented you. “Pretty?”

“Pretty ugly.”

You punched his shoulder. “You know what,” you spoke while reaching for the shirt that he’d taken off you just a few minutes ago and slipped it back on. “Have a good night. I’m outta here.”

You already tried to hop off his lap and managed to open the door but he was quick enough to close it and pull you back. “No, babe. I was kidding, c’mere. You’re really hot when you’re angry.”

Dammit. “You know when I step out of this car, we’re rivals again, right?” you reminded him of your agreement.

Yes, the agreement.

You two have agreed that whenever you were inside his car, you could do whatever you wanted—make out, have sex, act like a couple—but the moment you were out of his precious vehicle, you ought to return to being rivals. Enemies. Back to the way it was before this whole secret meetings ever happened. Before that one drunk night in Miyagi ever happened.

“I know, that’s why.” He pulled you into his chest and held you tight. “Stay with me a little more.”

You could feel the vibration of his heartbeat meeting yours at the same pace and you wondered why you enjoyed this too much. Sunarin was only that annoying guy from your neighborhood and he would always be that, but this feeling, right here right now, was different. It was odd and you couldn’t understand it.

“We’re literally not doing anything,” you mumbled on his ear as he kept hugging you like he didn’t want you to move away.

“I’m not in the mood for sex,” he stated the obvious.

“So what do we do?”

“Just talk.”

You pulled back, suppressing the smile and suppressing the butterflies that erupted in your stomach. How could he be so annoying but adorable at the same time? “You do know Makki’s gonna kill you when he finds out that we snuck around, right? Not just him but also Oikawa, Iwa, Mattsun. I’m like their little sister.”

He raked his fingers through his middle-parted hair and chuckled. “I’ll get into their good graces so they won’t be too hard on me.”

“God, you act like this is something serious.”

“Kita already knows,” he revealed before shrugging. “He figured out when he saw hickeys on both our necks.”

Fuck. That actually made sense how Kita reminded you earlier that you two supposedly ‘reconciled in Miyagi’. Oh god, he knew all along! You didn’t exactly know what to feel out of it because you and Suna were plain enemies in everyone’s knowledge. You ‘hated’ each other, and despite it being true, it was only during races.

“We’re rivals, Rin,” you strictly reminded as you looked straight into his eyes. “We’re enemies.”

Enemies that hate each other.

You wanted to hear his answer, but he responded to you through his actions and it was on how he held your cheek, pulling you into a deep kiss that was full of yearning and desire. His kisses were soft but passionate, his lips were moving in perfect sync against yours like you’ve done it a million times before. Frankly, you could also do it a million times more. He bit your lower lip and took the chance of putting his tongue in when you opened your mouth to let you have a full taste through his amazing kissing skills.

You’d give it an 11/10 even if he was your enemy.

When he pulled away, you were breathless and breathing against his chest. His lips spread into a genuine smile while his eyes stared intently at yours. “Enemies don’t kiss you that way.”

Your heart was going to burst out of your chest.

The feeling of when you hit the NOS and the car would jerk off to an insane speed—that was how your heart leaped out of your chest.

“Rin... what are you trying to say?”

He didn’t speak. He stayed silent, momentarily looked out the window, rolled it down, grabbed a pack of cigarettes, pulled one out, put it in between his teeth, took a long a drag, but you cupped his cheeks and sucked the smoke from his mouth, later blowing it out while he smirked at you, impressed. That was hot, he probably thought.

And by that time, Suna already rested his forehead against yours. “Let’s date. Officially.”

“Sunarin...”

“I like you.”

“No, you don’t.”

He deeply exhaled and refused to remove the arms that had you caged around the waist. It looked like he expected you to hesitate but how could he not? You were taken aback by this because you two were supposed to hate each other. “I like you. Fuck, even if you’re a dick to me and even if I mock you a lot, I actually like you. You’re fucking cool and you can drive so well. But sometimes I find it okay to lose to you because I like seeing your reaction whenever you win against me. It’s cute—no, it’s adorable. I also like how cute you are when you pick a fight or when you get annoyed at the littlest things—”

All this time, you were so fixated about the fact that Suna Rintarou was only a rival that you hated so much and you never realized how sad you actually get whenever he wasn’t present in some races or when you see him talking to other girls—Jesus, it was all because you like him too. How could you be so damn stupid?

Your instinct was to hush him with a kiss before even fully comprehending his hidden affection towards you. Perhaps, or as oblivious as you were, you realized that you felt the same.

“Rin?”

“Hey.”

You intertwined your hand with his. “You’re gonna be a cool boyfriend, right? ‘Cause I’m an extremely clingy girlfriend and I’ll argue with you a lot.”

With this, he offered you a smile of triumph as if he’d crossed the finish line and won the best race of his life.

“Fight me all you want, I’m yours.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

general taglist: @x-cloudyyyy @iwazubean @elianetsantana @cottonheadedninnymugggins @centvry @kageyamakock @sunnsettee @bluesylveon2 @tsukkisfatsimp @cuddlesslut @mysteriousparker @asdfghjkl7things @02hhsailor @anejuuuuoy @minswags-posts @chemnerdkuroo @misssugarless @deeznutss @tanakax123 @oikawa-bubs @lust4keiji @black-kuroover @stel9 @tsumuuwu @daylghits @semibaby

[monessencevirtuelle]

[thimbil]

Having some thoughts about the references and inspirations used for the Bad Batch’s designs.

So Boba Fett is my absolute favorite character and Temeura Morrison was perfect casting. I went to see the 2008 TCW movie in theaters because I was so excited to see him again, even if he was animated. You can imagine my disappointment. Whoever was on screen was not Temeura Morrison. You could sort of see a resemblance if you squinted and didn’t think too hard about it. They replaced Temeura with Racially Ambiguous G.I. Joe. If I didn’t know better and someone told me the animated clones are space Italians from the moon of New Jersey I would buy it. One Million Brothers Pizzeria and Italian Bistro. Not that there’s something wrong with being space Italian, I just don’t think it’s the right choice for the Fetts. The design got slightly improved by season 7 but it still bugs the hell out of me.

I did eventually get into the show later and (of course) got invested in the clones. Unfortunately, they were largely sidelined by the Jedi storylines. Out of the two new main characters created for TCW, Ahsoka definitely got more development and focus than Rex. When they announced The Bad Batch, I was excited to see a show specifically devoted to the clones… at least that’s what it said on the tin. We have all seen what lurks beneath those stylish helmets.

Jango Fett, you are NOT the father.

So who is?

Based on interviews with Filoni, it sounds like the Bad Batch was a George Lucas idea. And like all his ideas, it’s super derivative. The original trilogy directly lifted elements from sci fi serials, westerns, and samurai movies, more specifically Kurosawa films like The Hidden Fortress. For The Bad Batch character designs, the influence is obviously American action and adventure movies.

Now let’s get specific. Bad Batch, who’s your daddy?

Hunter

Sylvester Stallone as Rambo in First Blood 1982. That bandana has become an integral part of the iconic action hero look. You see a character wearing one and it’s a visual shorthand for either “this character is a tough guy” like Billy played by Sonny Landham in Predator 1987, or “this character thinks he is/wants to be a tough guy” like Brand played by Josh Brolin in The Goonies 1985 or Edward Frog played by Corey Feldman in The Lost Boys 1987.

Hunter’s model is closest to the original clone base. If you look closely you will see the eyebrows are straighter with a much lower angle to the arch. His nose is also not the same shape as a standard clone like Rex, including a narrower bridge. It’s certainly not Temeura Morrison’s nose. Remember what I said about space Italians? It didn’t take much to push the existing clone design to resemble an specific Italian man instead of a specific Māori man. The 23&Me came back, and Hunter inherited more than the bandana from Sylvester.

Crosshair

The long narrow nose, the sharp cheekbones, the scowl. That’s no clone, that’s just animated Clint Eastwood. Not even Young and Hot Clint Eastwood from Rawhide 1959-1965. With that hair, I’m talking Gran Torino 2008. The man of few words schtick and family friendly toothpick in lieu of cigar are pure Eastwood as The Man With No Name from Sergio Leone’s spaghetti westerns A Fist Full of Dollars 1964, For a Few Dollars More 1965, and The Good the Bad and the Ugly 1966.

In a way, this is full circle because the actor Jeremy Bulloch took inspiration from Clint Eastwood for his performance as Boba Fett in ESB.

Wrecker

In an interview Filoni lists the Hulk as an (obvious) inspiration for Wrecker. Ever seen the old Hulk tv show from 1978? Well take a look at the actor who played him, Lou Ferrigno. Would you look at that. Even has his papa’s nose.

You could make the argument that Wrecker was influenced by The Rock, an appropriately buff ‘n bald Polynesian (Samoan, not Maori) man. But look at him next his Fast and Furious costar Vin Diesel and tell me which one resembles Wrecker’s character model more.

Tech

Tech is a little trickier for me to place. If he has a more direct inspiration it must be something I haven’t seen. That said, his hairline is very Bruce Willis as John McClane in Die Hard 1988. His quippiness and large glasses remind me of Shane Black as Hawkins from Predator 1987. In terms of his face, he looks a but like the result of McClane and Hawkins deciding to settle down and start a family. Although, Tech’s biggest contributors are probably just everyone on TV Trope’s list for Smart People Wear Glasses.

And finally,

Echo

Oh Echo. Considering he wasn’t created for the Bad Batch, he probably wasn’t based on a particular character or movie. But if I had to guess, his situation and appearance remind me a lot of Alex Murphy played by Peter Weller in Robocop 1987. However, Robocop explored the Man or Machine Identity Crisis with more nuance, depth, and dignity. Yikes.

The exact tropes and references used in The Bad Batch have been done successfully with characters who aren’t even human. Gizmo from Gremlins 2: The New Batch 1990 had a brief stint with the Rambo bandana. I could have picked any number of characters for Defining Feature Is Glasses but here is the most cursed version of Simon of Alvin and the Chipmunks. Suffer as I have. Marc Antony with his beloved Pussyfoot from Looney Tunes has the same tough guy with a soft center vibe as Wrecker and his Lula (also a kind of cat). Hell, in the same show we have Cad Bane sharing Cowboy Clint Eastwood with Crosshair. I actually think Bane makes a better Eastwood which is wild considering Crosshair has Eastwood’s entire face and Bane is blue.

So we’ve established you don’t need your characters to look exactly like their inspirations to match their vibe. So why go through the trouble and cost of creating completely new character designs instead of recycling and altering assets they already had on hand? Just slap on a bandana, toothpick, goggles, and make Wrecker bigger than the others while he does a Hulk pose and you’re done. Based on the general reaction to Howzer it would have been a low effort slam dunk crowd pleaser.

But they didn’t do that.

So here’s the thing. I like the tropes used in The Bad Batch. I am a fan of action adventure movies from the 80s-90s, the sillier the better. I am part of the Bad Batch’s target audience. Considering what I know about Disney and Lucasfilm, I went in with low expectations. I genuinely don’t hate the idea of seeing references to these actors and media in The Bad Batch. I don’t think basing these characters on tropes was a bad idea. If anything it’s a solid starting point for building the characters.

The trouble is nothing got built on the foundation. The plot is directionless, the pacing is wacky, and the characters have nearly no emotional depth or defining character arcs. They just sort of exist without reacting much while the story happens around them. But I can excuse all of that. You don’t stay a fan of Star Wars as long as I have not being able to cherrypick and fill in the gaps. This show has a deeper issue that shouldn’t be ignored.

Why do the animated clones bear at best only a passing resemblance to their live action actor? In interviews, Filoni wouldn’t shut up but the technological advancements in the animation for season 7. So if they are updating things, why not try to make the clones a closer match to their source material? Why did they have to look like completely different people in The Bad Batch to be “unique”? Looking like Temeura Morrison would have no bearing on their special abilities and TCW proved you can have identical looking characters and still have them be distinct. In fact, that’s a powerful theme and the source of tragedy for the clones’ narrative overall.

Here’s Filoni’s early concept art of Crosshair, Wrecker, Tech, and Hunter. (Interesting but irrelevant: Wrecker seems to have a cog tattoo similar to Jesse’s instead of a scar. Wouldn’t it have been funny if they kept that so when they met in season 7 one if them could say something like “Hey we’re twins!” That’s a little clone humor. Just for you guys 😘)

None of these drawings look like the clones in TCW, much less Temeura Morrison. Let’s be generous. Maybe Filoni struggles with drawing a real person’s likeness, as many people do. But he had to hand this off to other artists down the line whose job specifically involves making a stylized character resemble their actor. Yet the final designs missed the mark almost as much as this initial concept. Starting to seem as if the clones looking more like Temeura Morrison was never even on the table. It wasn’t a lack of creativity, skill or technical limitations on the part of the creative team. I don’t think there is an innocent explanation. They went out of their way to make the final product exactly how we got it.

This goes beyond homage. They could have made the same pop culture references and character tropes without completely stripping Temeura Morrison from the role he originated. It was a very purposeful choice to replace him with more immediately familiar actors from established franchises and films. It wouldn’t shock me if Filoni, Lucas, and anyone else calling the shots didn’t even think hard or care enough about the decision to immediately recognize a problem. And I don’t think they believed anyone else would either. At least no one whose opinion they cared about. Those faces are comfortingly familiar and proven bankable. They are what we’re all used to seeing after all. They’re white.

Lack of imagination, bad intentions, or simple ignorance doesn’t really matter in the end. The result is the same. Call it what it is. They replaced a man of color with a bunch of white guys. That’s by the book garden variety run of the mill whitewashing. There’s no debate worth having about it. For a fanbase that loves to nitpick things like whether or not it’s in character for Han to shoot first or Jeans Guy in the Mandalorian, we sure are quick to find excuses for clones who look nothing like their template. Why is that? If you don’t see the problem, congratulations. Your ass is showing. Pull your jeans up.

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Bound Blood (Cassandra Dimitrescu/Reader, Soulmate AU) Pt. 2

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village

Rating: T+ for blood, language, nudity, and horny

Warnings: Implied pain/blood kink

Summary: Local vampire tries to give her human soulmate a bath, but the human is feral and loving it. Then it gets a lil horny, to both of their frustration.

Previous Chapters: 1: Sharing Is (Not) Caring

2: Bloodbath, Baby!

“I take it you changed your mind about the clothes? Or am I supposed to use these towels like a makeshift toga?” You asked, glancing around the bathroom, eying the ornate tub with mild interest. This certainly wasn’t where you had expected Cassandra to take you, especially not when she had somewhat promised you garments to wear. There were no pants or shirts (or even dresses) in sight, just a rack of the softest looking towels you had ever seen. It was admittedly difficult for you to resist the urge to use one to wipe the blood off of your shoulder. However, you figured that it would be best to save that for after you were given a good behavior prize. After all, it was much more fun to be a bastard if your “victim” (not that Cassandra really counted as that) knew how polite you were capable of being, and you were, under normal circumstances, very polite. Most of the time. Maybe.

“What did I say about talking?” Cassandra snapped at you, glaring at you from her perch on the counter. She was sitting on the edge, waiting for something, occasionally eying the room’s entrance.

“You told me to shut up for ‘five minutes’. It’s been eight, at the very least! I’ve been holding back, just for you, babe,” you replied, smirking as you did. For a moment your soulmate seems to consider chucking a bar of soap at your head. Eventually she thinks better of it, opting to roll her eyes at you instead. “For the record, I did count, just to be sure. Wouldn’t have wanted to make any assumptions about the passage of time, considering how fast time seems to fly when I’m with a loved one.” Unfortunately, this does not get a rise out of Cassandra, who has shifted to face away from you. Not yet willing to give up your buffoonery (and assuming that you would not, in fact, be getting a good behavior prize anytime soon), you released a loud, exaggerated sigh, before switching tactics.

Standing up with the blanket still curled around yourself, you maneuver over to the tub, eagerly climbing inside. With how large it was, laying down was fairly easy, though you weren’t entirely flat. Wanting to be as comfortable as possible, you adjust yourself and the blanket until it covers you, while letting one end go behind your head like a pillow. It’s nowhere near as nice as you had hoped. On the plus side, however, is the attention it gets from Cassandra. Before long she’s standing adjacent to the tub, staring down with an expression of exasperation.

“What the fuck are you doing?” She asked.

“Napping, obviously. Care to join me?” You answered, without hesitation. Then you gently pat the blanket, as if offering to let her sit on top of you. This only serves to make her angrier. Now she’s leaning over the basin, bracing one hand against it, her other hand reaching to grab your throat and pull you towards her. The two of you are so close that you can’t help but blush, and the feeling of her skin against yours is weirdly attractive. “I should have known you were the kinky type. Not that I mind,” you murmured, gaze wandering a little farther south than her lips. Before you know it she’s shoved you back down and let go of you. She shakes her hand a bit, like she’s just touched something gross, but you see the pink rising on her cheeks. As much as you want to tease her, the sound of approaching footsteps takes priority. Soon the door is opening, revealing a stressed servant, a pile of clothes in her arms. Suddenly you’re glad that Cassandra pushed you away, considering you don’t think she would have enjoyed having someone walk in on the two of you in that position.

“Lady Cassandra, I have what you requested. Would you like me to draw a bath for you? Or-” she pauses when she sees you, clearly unsure of what to make of your behavior. Hell, she almost drops what she’s carrying, and makes a soft ‘oh’ sound. Presumably dying inside, Cassandra quickly takes the bundle from her. Then she stands between the two of you, blocking line of sight, looking as tense as could be.

“Just get back to work, and don’t mention this to anyone,” she growled, gesturing towards the door. As soon as the maiden closes it behind her, Cassandra is turning back to you. “Get rid of that stupid fucking blanket or I’m forcing you to wear wet socks.” Understandably, you start giggling at her request, hardly able to believe that she had really just said those words out loud. “Would you prefer I cut up the soles of your feet? I’ll heal long before you do, asshole.” Now that makes you pause, trying to figure out whether or not her threat held up. Even though everyone had a basic understanding of how blood bonds worked (the less romantic, and more historic, way to refer to soulmates), the specifics were confusing for most people, including yourself. Would your aching wounds bother her? Or only the initial injury?... Somehow you had a feeling you’d figure out the answer within the next few days.

Until then, you decide to err on the side of caution, for once in your life. Still, you roll your eyes before you pull the blanket up and out of the tub. Again you spot a faint rosy tint on Cassandra’s face, and her gaze most definitely lingers on places other than your eyes. In the end you have to bite your lower lip to stop yourself from calling her out on it. Gotta get some clothes first, you think, then back to being a dick. Holding back only gets harder from there.

Wordlessly, Cassandra takes a seat by the front of the tub, where your feet are propped up on the edge. Giving you a judgemental look, she pushes them aside so she can reach the controls knobs easier. You give an exaggerated pout in response, only for her to ignore you completely, trying very hard to look anywhere but at you. It was in stark contrast to how she had looked at you a mere half an hour earlier. There were several interesting things to note about her behavior, and you found yourself almost excited to figure out the puzzle she presented. Did she care about you now? Simply because of your blood bond? Did she have a genuine soft spot for romance?... Those sorts of questions were all you could think about, even as Cassandra turned the handles, letting cold water splash into the tub.

“I’d say ‘fuck you’ but honestly, were I in your position I would likely do the same,” you said, shivering a little. Cassandra raises an eyebrow, staring at you like you were stupid, before turning the handle a bit more. Eventually you figure out what she meant by it. “What, you guys don’t have a quality water heater? This is Romania for fuck’s sake. I would have figured the water would be a hell of a lot hotter by now,” you added, only for her to splash some still very much cold water on your face. “Is this fun for you? Are you enjoying this? God, I hope you assholes have Legos somewhere in this maniac menagerie, so I can step on them while you sleep.”

“Do you always spit in the face of kindness?” Cassandra asked, moving towards the other end of the tub as she spoke. Once more you laugh, though this time it’s much more of a hollow sound, and your smile doesn’t reach your eyes. “My sister wanted to kill you, but I pulled your pathetic corpse out of the basement, now I’m letting you use my bath, and you’re mocking me. This is why I don’t bother with this shit,” she growled, even as she wets a washcloth and starts dabbing at your wounds. On one hand you understand her frustration… but on the other you couldn’t get the image of her past victims out of your head.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’d rather be clean than not,” you started to say, pausing to think for a moment. Then you reach out, putting your hand over Cassandra’s, making her freeze in place. It’s soft enough of a touch to surprise her. Which is why it’s so easy for you to snatch the towel from her hands. “You ‘don’t bother’ with this ‘shit’ because you’re a fucking sadist, who thinks all humans are beneath you, who acts like she has every right to bleed innocent people dry, who thinks she’s God’s gift to this goddamn hellhole we call Earth. Do you think this makes up for your sins? Do you-” her nails dig into your arm and she grits her teeth in pain- “think that I can forget listening to the screams of your victims? Whose graves is this castle built upon? Whose fucking bones am I standing on? Who died to keep you alive? How many other versions of me have you killed, in other timelines, in other lives, where the universe didn’t demand that we be together? I’ve seen your heart, girl, and it’s as raw as they come.”

There’s a brief second of intense, furious eye contact. Then a flash of movement, a rush of pain, tears filling the corner of your eyes. Blood pours from the new hole in your shoulder, but Cassandra is quick to lick it up. She’s groaning in between each run of her tongue across your skin, clearly feeling it every bit that you were, yet she shows no signs of stopping. If anything, her pain seems to spur her on harder. Even you can’t help but blush a little as you struggle beneath her grip. Why did vampires have to use their mouths? Why couldn’t they get blood transfusions, like the rest of society? This way, your pleasure mixes with your misery, leaving you confused, and the fact that you’re still naked is not at all helping.

“Oh fuck off, please,” you gasped, trying to push her off of you. To your surprise, she does as asked, pulling away after one last lick. When you turn to look at her, you see your blood covering her lips and dripping down her chin. “You’re a mess, Cassie. Hot water?” With that you return her favor from earlier, splashing some of the (finally above room temperature) water in her direction. Most of it misses her. A few drops, however, do manage to hit their mark. Then she’s wiping her face on her sleeve, scowling the whole time. There’s still plenty of blood on her face afterwards, but it’s nothing compared to what’s gathering on your shoulder. She eyes the wound, nostrils flaring briefly, a predator dying for one more bite. “If you bite me again, I swear to whoever that one lady y’all worship is, I will bite you. My teeth aren’t made for that shit, but I don’t care. We’ll both be miserable and that’s it, baby! That’s love! I’m threatening you with an unhealthy perception of affection, dipshit!”

This time you expect her to move away, or hit you, or do anything other than what she does. Calling your bluff, she moves around the ever-filling tub, pausing to turn the water off, before hiking the edges of her dress up and… oh. Oh. Somehow she’s in the tub with you now, legs on either side of your waist, presenting the side of her neck to you with a knowing smirk. But you are not known for your cleverness. Nor your ability to make good decisions, at that. Perhaps your blood loss was starting to affect your cognition. Whatever made you so feral, so beautifully unhinged, you embraced it with utter glee. Soon enough your teeth find themselves on Cassandra’s throat, digging in enough for you to feel your blood bond reacting. For a moment she stiffens in response. Then she relaxes, even takes in a rush of air that sounds oddly content, leaning into your touch. What the fuck? You think, almost shocked enough to let go. Almost.

“What’s the matter, pet? I thought you wanted me to know what it felt like on the other side of things?” Cassandra teased, voice quiet and low. Something about her tone sends a familiar, although unwanted, feeling to your core. Still, her words egg you on, and you find yourself biting harder, tugging at the skin a little. More tears gather in your eyes, but you fight through the pain as best as you can. You drag your teeth across her skin, wishing for sharper canines, before letting go to inspect your work. There’s a clear outline where your mouth had been, but not a single drop of blood. Frustrated, you go back in for seconds, choosing a different spot to target. Again you go through the motions, only for no crimson to stain your lips. This cycle repeats several more times, with you running your tongue along her neck in between bites, so focused that you don’t realize that she’s grinding against you until she stops.

“I need to file my teeth,” you mused, trying to forget about what you had just done. Now that it’s over, Cassandra seems to feel the same, and she quickly climbs back out of the tub. She’s refusing to meet your gaze, instead focusing on arranging the clothes the servant had brought earlier. By the time she’s facing you again her blush is almost entirely gone.

“Finish cleaning up, then bandage yourself and get dressed. I’ll have a maiden wait outside to bring you back to my room. Don’t even think about trying to run,” Cassandra said sternly. You’re too distracted by the thought of what happened to give her any snarky response. So she simply nods to herself, then leaves, slamming the door behind her. Though you had expected to be relieved by her absence, you find yourself groaning, holding your head in your hands. Why is she so attractive? This is probably illegal, you think, in at least several countries. Or it should be, at least. Now that she’s gone, there’s nothing to distract you from the price of her attention, with your shoulder and neck aching horribly. Cleaning up was going to hurt even worse. Still, you think, at least I’ll have some time to think of new insults. With that in mind, you begin to wash away the blood, thoughts entirely consumed by your newest ‘partner’.

[shprka]

Ok so I'm new the st fandom (even tho i always liked the show) and this thing has been around for ages but I wanted to see for myself what kind of movies are on the Video store fridays thingy which is every film the writers talked about when writing/making season 4

But i could barely read that board lol so I found an amazing list of all the films listed there (and some more that reference s4) made by @ strangerclips and as I was going through them I noticed some patterns so I decided to sort the films into categories for myself, just as a fun thing to do, and so I can maybe see where's the direction s4 is going

So for the past week I've been doing that and decided to share the results (maybe you can catch something I missed or we can discuss)

Sorry in advsnce it's gonna be long (there's around 300 movies altogether 😭)

I sorted them in character categories that I know/feel going to be important which are: ELEVEN, WILL, BILLY, HOPPER

I will explain my reasoning with a lot of them in later posts maybe but definitely with Billy and his themes I was inspired by @strangerthings4theories so kudos to them for making me believe the boy will be back. I know they analyse some movies that can't be about anyone other than Billy (like The Crow) but I found a lot of others that just don't fit other categories or characters (and there's a movie about a boy named Billy who goes back to California which is his hometown, im sorry what?? Who else would that reference??). So if the sheer amount of them doesn't give you hope idk what else can! I know it gave me more hope haha

The other categories are sorted through genres (ROMANCE, SCI-FI) but I found a lot of them fit similar themes (TIME, CRIME, EXPERIMENTS) and they mostly fit so neatly in those categories, and it fits with a lot of stuff we know about the previous season and season 4 so far so that's interesting!

FULL LIST UNDER THE CUT

ELEVEN:

- The Book of Henry

- Pan's Labyrinth

- Labyrinth

- Carrie

- Inside Out

- Karate Kid

- Kingsman

- Little Miss Sunshine

- Little Women 1994

- Peter Pan

- Step Up 2

- Stoker

- Tangled

- Terminator Dark Fate

- The Wizard of Oz

- Willow

- Welcome to the Dollhouse

- Return of thr Jedi

- Empire strikes back

- The Orphan

- Nightmare on Elm Street 3 Dream Warriors

- Long kiss goodnight

- Let the right one in

- Girl interrupted

- Edward Scissorhands

- The Craft

- Amelie

- Daryl (Movie in theatres at the mall in s3)

- Return to Oz (Movie in theatres at the mall in s3)

- Firestarter (movie advertised in the Video Store)

WILL:

- Karate Kid

- Kingsman

- Peter Pan

- The Sword in the Stone

- Return of thr Jedi

- Empire strikes back

- Nightmare on Elm Street 3 Dream Warriors

- The Never-ending Story

- Lost Boys

- Let the right one in

- Good Will Hunting

- Daryl (Movie in theatres at the mall in s3)

BILLY:

- The Crow

- Beauty and the Beast

- Kingsman

- Terminator 2 Judgment Day

- Terminator Dark Fate

- Wanted

- Unleashed

- Unbreakable

- The Terminal

- Source Code

- Society

- Shooter

- Scrooged

- Papillon

- Ordinary People (giving Max and the Hargroves vibes)

- Nightmare on Elm Street 3 Dream Warriors

- Lost Boys

- It's a Wonderful life (not sure, giving me Billy vibes)

- Highlander

- The Guest

- The Guardian

- The Graduate (Billy + Mrs. Wheeler vibes but I'm not sure)

- Good Will hunting

- Fast and Furious Tokyo Drift

- Enter the void

- Edward Scissorhands

- Shape of Water

- Fifth Element

- Scarface

- Sixteen Candles

HOPPER:

- A Team

- 13th Warrior

- Leon the Professional

- John Carter of Mars

- Mask of Zorro

- The Revenant

- Road Warrior

- Unforgiven

- Tombstone

- Stalag 17

- The Rock

- Ravenous

- Prisoners

- Predator

- One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest

- Mystic River

- The Great Escape

- Congo

- Cast Away

KIDS/TEENS:

- Black Cauldron

- HP and the Chamber of Secrets

- Sky High

- Spy Kids

- Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles

- Toy Story 4

- Young Sherlock Holmes

- What's eating Gilbert Grape

- Ferris Bueller's Day Off

- Welcome to the Dollhouse

- Wayne's World

- The Hobbit Desolation of Smaug

- Superbad

- Return of thr Jedi (also Steve's favorite movie)

- Empire strikes back

- Rushmore

- The Peanut Butter Solution

- Orange County

- The Natural

- Magnolia (maybe)

- Hunger Games

- Home Alone

- Hackers

- The Goofy Movie

- The Good Son

- Girl interrupted

- Ghostbusters

- Dumb and dumber

- Dukes of Hazzard

- Drop Dead Fred

- Don's Plum

- Cabin in the woods

- Billy Maddison

- Almost Famous

- Aristocats

- Babe Pig in the city

- Cocoon (Movie in theatres at the mall in s3)

- The Outsiders (movie advertised in the Video Store)

- The Hidden Fortress (Robin's favorite movie)

- Animal House (Steve's favorite movie)

- Fast times at Ridgemont High (Steve's favorite movie)

ROMANCES:

- Emma (2020)

- Clueless

- High School Musical

- Princess Bride

- You've Got Mail

- What Women Want

- Wet Hot American Summer

- Wedding Crashers

- True Romance

- Titanic

- Swingers

- Swept Away

- Splash!

- Scrooged

- Reality Bites

- Never Been Kissed

- Interview with a vampire (no idea where to put it)

- High Fidelity (big Steve vibes)

- Ghost

- Forrest Gump

- Cider House Rules

- Casablanca

- The Birdcage (an LGBT film wow!)

- 16 Candles (movie advertised in the Video Store)

- The Apartment (Robin's favorite movie)

- Children of Paradise (Robin's favorite movie)

MILITARY/WAR:

- Fullmetal Jacket

- The Green Mile

- Independence Day

- Saving Private Ryan

- Robocop

- 300 (big battle)

- Independence Day (big battle)

- Platoon

- LOTR Two towers (big battle)

- The Hurt Locker

- Dances with Wolves

- Crimson Tide

- Broken Arrow

- American Sniper

- Behind enemy lines

SPIES:

- True Lies

- Mr and Mrs Smith

- Kingsman

- Men in Black

- Swordfish

- Skyfall

- James Bond (all)

- North by Northwest

SUPERHEROES:

- Age of Ultron

- Batman Begins

- Batman v Superman

- The Dark Knight

- Into the Spiderverse

- Thor Ragnarok

- Constantine

TIME/ALTERNATE REALITIES/DIMENSIONS/MEMORY/HALLUCINATION/VISIONS/BRAINWASHING:

- Total Recall

- Fargo

- Inception

- Into the Spiderverse

- The Matric

- Peter Pan

- Total Recall

- Truman Show

- Zoolander

- The Wizard of Oz

- What Dreams May Come True

- Welcome to Marwen

- Timeline

- Source Code

- The Pumaman

- The Prestige

-  The Lighthouse

- Dreamcatcher

- The Cell

- Back Swan

- 12 monkeys

- Altered States

- Assasin's Creed

- Back to the future (Steve's favorite movie/he talks about in s3 which is most likely gonna be important)

DOUBLES/DOPPLEGANGGERS:

- Bill and Ted's Bogus Journey

- Terminator 2 Judgment Day

- Source Code

- The Prestige

- Innerspace

- The Crazies

- Assasin's Creed

- Basket Case

OCEAN/UPSIDE DOWN:

- 47 Meters Down Uncaged

- Deep Blue Sea

- Open Water

- The Perfect Storm

MONSTERS/TRANSFORMATION/EXPERIMENTS:

- The fly

- Godzilla King of the monsters

- King Kong

- Shape of Water

- Splice

- Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles

- Silver Bullet

- Society

- Predator

- Jurassic World 2

- Island of Dr. Moreau

- Innerspace

- Crank

- CHUD

- The Birds

- Battle of big rock

ZOMBIES/DYSTOPIA/VIRUS:

- 28 days later

- I am legend

- Mad Max Fury Road

- Mimic

- Twister (it's about tornadoes destroying Oklahoma, idk where to put it. It has a virus spreading dystopia vibe)

- The Mist

- Hidden

- Hackers

- The Crazies

- Children of men

- Annihilation

- Armageddon

- Lifeforce (Movie in theatres at the mall in s3)

- The Stuff (Movie in theatres at the mall in s3)

SCI-FI:

- Ex Machina

- Fifth Element

- Jupiter Ascending

- Robocop

- Weird Science

- War games

- Starship Troopers

- Event Horizon

- Doom

- Blade Runner 2049

- 2001 A Space odyssey

- Arrival

- Lifeforce (Movie in theatres at the mall in s3)

HORROR/SUPERNATURAL/CULTS:

- It follows

- The Mummy

- The Ring

- The Shining (giving Victor Creel vibes)

- What Lies Beneath

- The Visit

- Society

- Paradise Lost

- Hellraiser (1 and 2)

- Get out

- Dracula

- Don't breathe

- The Descent

- Bair Witch Project

ADVENTURE:

(Searching for something to save something/someone)

- Fifth element

- Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom

- The Mummy

- Paddington 2

- Raiders of the Lost Ark

- Rogue One

- LOTR

- Hobbit

- Betlejuice

CRIME:

- Fargo

- Oceans

- Minority Report

- Ocean's 11

- Ocean's 12

- Ocean's 8

- Paddington 2

- Pulp Fiction

- Red Dragon

- Reservoir Dogs

- Se7en

- Silence of the Lambs

- The Shawshank Redemption

- Zodiac

- Young Sherlock Holmes

- Who framed Roger Rabbit

- War Games

- War Dogs

- Very Bad Things

- Unleashed

- True Romance

- To Kill a Mockingbird

- Speed

- Sicario

- Shooter

- The Raid

- Primal Fear

- Pineapple express

- Papillon

- No Country for old men

- Mystic River

- My Cousin Vinny

- Misery

- Knives Out

- The Italian Job

- In Cold Blood

- I am a fugitive from a chain gang

- Hell or High Water

- Heat

- Goodfellas

- Girl with the dragon tattoo

- The Fugitive

- The Fisher King

- Fallen

- Dogma

- Die Hard (1, 2 and 3)

- Devil's Advocate

- Death to Smoochy

- Constantine

- Con Air

- Burn after reading

- Borat (idk where to put it but this whole movie is a crime in itself)

- The Boondock Saints

- Ace Ventura (1 and 2)

- Analyze This

- Backdraft

- Beverly Hills Cop

- Scarface (movie advertised in the Video Store)

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

What movies have you seen this year, and how would you rate them?

I can't remember every film I saw this year, but these are the ones I actually saw in the movie theater.

F9

I had never seen a Fast and Furious movie before. I did not get any of the references. It was so dumb, but weirdly what I needed in that moment. Will likely never see it again. 2/5

In the Heights

This was fun and it made me wish I could see it live on stage. I know why they decided to give this a summer release, but I kind of wished they wanted just a bit longer, maybe to next spring, to get it properly hyped. It has its problems, but the cast is stellar. 3/5

Godzilla vs. Kong

So dumb, but you saw the title. Only really came for the spectacle, which make the human characters even more useless then they normally are. Godzilla: King of the Monsters is still the superior film. 2.5/5

Black Widow

This really felt like it was the third movie in a trilogy we never got. The opening is solid and Yelena is seriously one of the best new additions to the MCU. I would have liked to tweak a few story beats Alexi as he's a character who's arc is left dangling, but it's not distracting. Not my favorite MCU film, but a solid entry. 3.5/5

Shang Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings

The acting in this films has no right to be as amazing as it is. Everyone in this cast is amazing. The fights scenes are great, the core relationship between Shang-chi and his father is complicated and compelling, and it's just plain fun. I would have liked one more pass at the script to tighten it up in some areas and cut out a few jokes, but otherwise top tier MCU material. 4/5

Venom: Let There Be Carnage

Every bit the train wreck I hoped it would be. A true disaster. Awful. I loved it. I honestly wish it was more of a disaster. If you liked the first one, you'll like the second and if you didn't like the first one, this one won't change your mind. This is for fans of Venom (2018) and fans of Venom (2018) exclusively. 2.5/5

Last Night in SoHo

Honestly one of the the most jaw dropping movies I've seen so far. The look of this film is amazing. The soundtrack is perfection. The acting is top notch and the story thrilling. This may be a case of style over substance. I could sit down and pick at the plot holes, but I was there for the ride and it took me on one. 4/5

Eternals

I think I respect this film more than I like it. I love the different tone and look of the film. I like the more quiet and introspective moments. The characters aren't so much characters as vehicles for themes and ideas. There is a lot there you can sit down and think about, but I do think they bit off more than they could chew. At the very least, it got me curious to see more. 3/5

Belfast

Just a solid movie all around. If small stories about people just trying to figure things out while the world seems to burn around them, then this is the movie for you. The acting is top tier all around with all the characters having their own charm and life. Special shout out to Jude Hill specifically who handled a film basically being placed on his shoulders with ease. There are a few things that bothered me about the film, namely the climax, but it wasn't distracting. I'm not sure if I'll go out of my way to watch it again, but I would recommend it. 3.5/5

The French Dispatch

Classic Wes Anderson from top to bottom. This collection of short stories aren't as frenetic as something like The Grand Budapest Hotel, but they have their own low key charm and humor found in all of Anderson's work. There are some stories I certainly like more than others, but the over all quality remains consistent. 4/5

Encanto

Very sweet and just a solid family film over all. I don't think its breaking any new ground in animation or music, but there are plenty of fun characters to get attached to and a story solely focused on the complicated relationships between them. That all being said, of the animated films I saw this year, Luca is still my favorite. Still, be sure to catch this one if you get the chance. 3.5/5

West Side Story

The more I think about this movie, the more vI love it. I want to go back to the theater and rewatch it just so I can get all of my thoughts in order. The cast is just so incredible and I'm so mad people have been avoiding it because of Ansel Elgort. It is clear from every frame that nothing but love was put into this adaptation. It still have it's problems here and there, but at the end of the day they're nit picks. Nothing will replace the original, but finally, a really fucking good musical adaptation. 4/5

Spider-Man: No Way Home

I just got home from watching this one actually. I don't want to give any spoilers, so I will simply say; this movie has no right to be as good as it is. 4/5

[nat-20s]

Part 5 of Wonderful! Au. *boyband voice* banter’s back alright!

Also on AO3

~*~

Jon: Hello everyone, and welcome back to our regular format. If my husband being horribly soppy-

Martin:-hey!-

Jon: -turned you off the how, this should be a refreshing return to formula, though I can’t guarantee there won’t be further horrible soppiness-

Martin, performatively under his breath: -most people thought it was charming-

Jon: -as that tends to happen when one is recording with the love of their life. If last week’s episode is the only one that you like, too bad, I’m back in full form, and should be at least through the rest of the season.

Martin: This show doesn’t have seasons? Due to the whole lack of a narrative thing?

Jon: I was referring to spring.

Martin: Oh, right.

[A beat passes.]

Martin, flatly: Oh. Great goof hon.

Jon, smug: Thank you.

Jon, sincere: Also, before we get properly started, I did want to actually thank everyone who sent well wishes.

M artin: Yes! We got positively inundated with lovely messages, it definitely brightened both of our days. I would even say it was wonderful.

[Jon groans.]

Jon: I am..not proud of the energy we’ve created for this episode so far, and we haven’t even hit the small wonders. Speaking of, do you have a small wonder this week?

Martin: Mine’s bad action movies.

Jon: Really? I had no idea you even liked them, let alone consider them wonderful.

Martin: Okay, so, saying I like them is a bit of a misnomer? It’s more that I like what they can do more than the movies themselves?

Jon: Elaborate?

Martin: It probably comes as a surprise to no one that I’ve tried my hand at a fair amount of mindfulness and mediation techniques. I’ve found poetry and journaling have been helpful for actually processing life events and whatnot, but when it comes to giving your brain a hard wipe and reset, nothing is half as quick and effective as a shitty shoot-em-up. Somethings about 2 hours of cartoonish, pg-13 violence held together with the absolute loosest of plots brings me to a state of mental blankness that would make a monk jealous.

Jon: How have I never witnessed you doing this? When are you sneaking off to go see Micheal Tarantino or who ever films?

M artin: That’s definitely not the right name.

Jon: Martin, dear, I don’t care. And you’re dodging the question.

Martin, fond: I’m not dodging anything. Since apparently we’re getting into it, you haven’t caught me cavorting with a movie involving more explosions than character development lately because I haven’t been. Haven’t needed it, in recent years. Turns out when you’re not crushingly lonely and working a literal nightmare of job, there’s less of a drive to try and escape your own thoughts. Shocker, I know. Still, to anyone out there that feels like their brain is on fire, go try watching a fast and furious. Any of ‘em, it doesn’t matter. Or even better, Chronicles of Riddick. I can’t remember a single goddamn detail of that movie, which makes it perfect for what I’m talking about.

Jon: I have the strong feeling that th is is a “mileage may vary” scenario.

Martin: Well, yeah, that’s this whole podcast. Plus, I imagine that movies like this would cause more stress to someone who cares about, say, world-building or rules consistency.

Jon: I wonder who you could possibly be referring to.

Martin: It’s a purely hypothetical person, love, don’t worry about it. Any small wonders?

Jon: Yes! Particularly relevant to the last week, my small wonder is stripping the sheets from your bed when it’s been too long between washes.

Martin: How very specific. M ost people would just say ‘clean sheets’.

Jon: Well, for one, I’m fairly certain that we’ve already covered clean sheets-

Martin: Shit, have we? Thank god other people keep track of this, otherwise this show would be unbearably repetitive.

Jon: Christ, yes. I typically check the website a good three times while prepping, and every about one out of those three times I find I’m trying to do an topic we did 30 episodes again. Anyway, um, it’s just nice, I think. When you’ve been too busy or sick or away for awhile, tossing the sheets in the wash makes a room instantly seem nicer. Of all the chores out there, this one, at least for me, has the highest reward to effort ratio.

Martin: Hard agree. Especially when the y have that slight funk of having been around to long, getting rid of that is such a relief. Speaking of, we need to change our sheets soon.

Jon: We can do it after the episode. Who goes first this week?

Martin: Considering last week was only me talking, I’m gonna say it’s you.

Jon: Alright, then. My first thing this week is Martin K. Blackwood.

Martin: Absolutely not!

Jon: Oh, you can do a whole episode on me, but I can’t do one little segment on my husband, whom I love very dearly?

Martin: Not while I’m sat here, no!

Jon: So you’re saying you don’t want me to tell the internet that your resolve to be kind even in the face of indescribable cruelty is one of the mot breathtaking things I’ve ever witnessed, or how I find it incredibly endearing when you get so emotional that your voice comes out as a squeak, or even that, on a more base level, you’re very physically attractive, and I could lose entire days thinking about your arms alone?

Martin, audibly blushing, voice the aforementioned squeak: Oh my god, Jon!

Jon, laughing: Then it’s probably for the best that my actual first thing is best friends.

Martin, peaking the audio levels: Oh you absolute bastard! Do you enjoy this? Do you get some sort of perverse sense of entertainment from riling me up?

Jon: Oh, don’t you start. As if you’re not as bad as I am. Maybe even worse.

Martin: That’s not…

Jon: Yes?

Martin: Okay. Maybe it’s slightly true. Really, what is romance for if not flustering your partner with compliments?

Jon, teasing: I certainly can’t think of anything.

Martin: Hush, you.

Jon: No, I don’t think I will.

Martin: Fine. I suppose you can tell our delightful audience about the power of friendship or whatever.

Jon: I would’ve assumed more enthusiasm, considering this segment is still, indirectly, about you.

Martin: In what way?

Jon: In the way that, to the shock of all, you’re my best friend.

Martin, pleased: Oh, is that what I am?

Jon, exasperated: Yes, dearest husband, I wouldn’t have married you otherwise. Though, upon reflection, I knew you were my best friend before I knew I held romantic feelings for you.

Martin: When was that?

Jon, letting out a breath that vibrates his lips: God it was...2016? I think it might’ve literally been the day after you told me about your CV.

Martin: That early? Huh. I wonder if that’s what people were picking up when they said they we were close.

Jon: What people?

Martin: I don’t know specifically, that’s just what Daisy told me.

Jon: Daisy? When the hell-?

Martin: It...was when she was interrogating me? And, because sometimes I have to be a parody of myself, pretty much my only take away from that interrogation was “people think me and Jon are close”.

Jon: Well then. It’s not like they were wrong.

Martin, smug: No, no they weren’t.

Martin, sincere: And you’re my best friend, too.

Jon: I was certainly hoping that you’re in this relationship for more than my good looks and incredible fortune, both in the monetary and luck sense.

Martin: You say that as if you aren’t good looking, which we all know is patently untrue.

Jon: You’re biased. You’d say I was good looking if I were nothing more than some primordial ooze with thoughts about its station.

Martin: I’m being completely objective. If you were primordial ooze with thoughts above its station, you’d be the cutest ooze of them all. That’s just scientific fact.

Jon: I’m starting to think we might be insufferable.

Martin: Starting to? Might be?

Jon:…

[Jon clears his throat]

Jon: What I find wonderful about the concept of best friends is, to me, they’re the closest thing real life has to soulmates. I don’t personally believe that there’s some..grand mystic force that drives people to be tied together in the manner that narrative typical soulmates are, and if there was I don’t think it would necessarily be the kind of emotional, heartfelt bond one would hope for, but I do believe that there’s individuals that get to know one another, and because of that knowledge, they chose to stick with one another. It doesn’t have to be a romantic, which is why I say best friend rather than specifically ‘spouse’, but I would argue that the basis of a strong romance like you and I have, is very much rooted in that connection. A true best friendship is an equal partnership, and there’s a sense of..matched sensibilities and understanding that can be utterly incandescent when it happens.

I also think that having one or more best friends makes living life on a day to day basis both better and just flat easier. The dark times aren’t as dark, and the bright times shine even more. I know from my own personal experience there are events that I..that I don’t know how I would’ve made it through without you. Hell, last week my..recovery period would’ve taken much longer if you hadn’t been there.

It’s an amazing thing to have someone to share things with, both triumphs and burdens. Um, also, according to Dictionary.com, the term best friends in English has been around since the 1200s. Something about that delights me, like, yes, we’ve had this casual way of referring to a Favorite Person for roughly 800 years. That makes it a hold-out from early Middle English. I dunno, it’s one of those things that make me feel overall very charmed by humanity.

Martin, audibly smiling: No, yeah, hard agree.

Jon: What’s that look for?

Martin: Nothing. Just. I love you a whole lot, you know that?

Jon, voice soft: I may have heard you say that once or twice. Per hour.

Martin: Only that often? I really need to be more diligent about that.

[There’s a bet of silence, presumably where they’re making doe eyes at each other.]

Jon: What’s your first thing?

Martin: Oh, um, right. Rats!

Jon: The expression or the animal?

Martin: Jon, have you ever once heard me say “rats” as an expression? Obviously I’m referring to the animal.

Jon: Ah. Should’ve known, considering that what, a third?, of all your segments have been on animals.

Martin: Yeah? And? You got a problem with critters? With creatures? With lil guys?

Jon, laughing: No, no, it’s very sweet. I’m just surprised you never became a vet.

Martin: Oh believe me, I wanted to. But then I learned that it was not, in fact, a job composed entirely of getting paid to play with other people’s pets.

Jon: You had that job, though, didn’t you? I thought I remembered you mentioning a month long stint at a doggie day care.

Martin, sighing dreamily: Best job I ever had. Too bad that place was shut down after it was revealed to be a money laundering front.

Jon: Good lord.

Jon: Martin did you...did you know it was a money laundering front at the time?

Martin:

Martin: Would it make you feel better if I said no?

Jon: Martin!

Martin: I figured it out like a week in, but, like, who cares? The pay was decent and the floor was super easy to clean, which is very much a plus for even a front of a doggie day care.

Jon: That’s...rather a lot. How about instead of getting into that any further, you tell me about rodents.

Martin: I would love to. But first, we have a shoutout!

Jon: Ooo, a shoutout. Does it specify who should read?

Martin: Let me check. It...does...not…..

...

Jon: Martin?

[A beat.]

Martin: Right! Sorry, um. This week’s shoutout is from Tim, to Danny. It says, “Danny! My favorite person who shares genetic material with me! I wanted to say thank you for your podcast obsession from 4 months ago, and specifically for telling me about these marrieds. They’ve gotten me through many a dull hour at the publishing house. Also, with this shoutout, I’ve officially gotten ahead on the Superior [Last Name Redacted] Brother scoreboard, so suck it. Love you lots, and looking forward to your visit next month, Tim.”

Jon: Oh.

Jon: Um. That’s very..sweet? I think? Mostly?

Martin: Yeah, I’d say so. Uh. We have to take a quick break because, uh, someone is..at our front door! Be back with you all in, from your side of things, just a moment.

[therenlover]

The Boy With The Easel (A Young Artist!Helmut Zemo x Reader Oneshot)

(Hey! If you end up enjoying this fic, it’s the first chronological part of a new fun expanded AU I’ve created with @creme-bruhlee​! Their fic Bliss is part of the same timeline and takes place about a year after this one, so you should check it out!!!)

Synopsis: About a month into your first semester at Novi Grad’s top university, you finally meet the strange young man that you’ve taken to calling “easel boy” in the back of a bookshop. From a distance, he always seemed cold and aloof. As you get to know him, though, you realize things aren’t always what they seem.

Tags: Meet Cute, College AU, First Meetings, Coffee Date, Artist!Zemo, Embarrassment, Awkward College Kids Falling In Love

Rating: T

Warnings: Very Vague Mention of Sexual Content, Swearing, Zemo Says The Word Daddy In Reference To His Father and The Reader Thinks It’s Kinda Hot

Word Count: 7000~

This fic has been crossposted to my AO3!

------

                                    The University of Novi Grad

                                                 Fall 1996

Mornings in Novi Grad could be beautiful if you knew what to look for.

Sokovia was… different from America in many ways. From the language to the scenery, you often found yourself adrift in the strangeness of it all. There had been nothing quite as old as the buildings in the historical district of Novi Grad back home, no towering grey behemoths serving as a reminder of a bygone fight against Soviet invasion in the memories of your childhood. Still, though, there was beauty in the strangeness nonetheless.

From your tiny room in the Helena Lyudmila International Scholar’s dorm, for instance, you had a perfect view of a large campus courtyard hosting a statue of the donor by the same name. She was some royal who had invested in education a few hundred years ago, and by the looks of her metal likeness, she had been quite pretty. The sight of her shining in the early morning sun was one of the things that made uprooting your whole life seem worth it in the end, no matter how silly that seemed.

There were other small comforts that you had found beauty in during your first month attending your prestigious university, too.

You found beauty in the way the sunlight streamed over the rooftops like the opening to an Oscar-winning film. In the sound of traffic below and the overcast skies above. Sandwiches from corner stores, wildflowers growing in the median of the road, cups of the worlds best black coffee served steaming by scowling attendants at the cafe; Everywhere there was something small and kind and just familiar enough to relish in, more than able to distract you from the stress of living hand-to-mouth in a country where you didn’t even know the language. It made it all worth it.

That being said there was something else too…

Someone else to be specific.

The campus tended to run like clockwork. The same groups of students would walk past your window to their classes, the same professors would get their coffee and lunch at the little cafe across the square, and every weekday morning at 8 am on the dot, easel boy would set up his palette and canvas and paint the same bustling street.

He was talented, that you couldn’t deny. Even from the 6th floor, which was a considerable distance away, it was possible to admire the detailing and consistency with which he painted. His talent wasn’t when kept you captive at your window in the morning, though. Though you were sure his art was beautiful, he himself was a thousand times more stunning.

All dark eyes and dark hair and dark clothes, he parted crowds with his piercing gaze alone. He was always dressed like the protagonist of some awful artsy film. Massive argyle sweaters, untucked button-ups, corduroy jackets, and flare bottomed pants that must have survived his father’s wardrobe from the ’70s… his style was as close you could get to atrocious while still being impeccable as possible, and that wasn’t even getting started on the smudged black liner always present under his persistent gaze. You had never had the pleasure (or embarrassment for that matter) of meeting him in person, but you were sure that you would have had the same awed and slightly frightened reaction if you ever did. He could have been plucked entirely from the pages of some awful romance novel.

You were well and truly smitten with the idea of him.

If you looked at your morning routine through the eyes of a stranger, you’d consider yourself odd for your strange obsession with him, but you didn’t look at it like that. It wasn’t an obsession. You never overstepped your bounds. He was simply pleasing to look at and so you did. That didn’t constitute as obsessive, right?

Even if it did, you weren’t causing any harm.

Easel boy, as you had come to refer to him, was simply a tool you used to ground yourself in your new and frightening environment. Nothing more. If you ever met him, you would surely hate him from the short interactions you’d seen him have with strangers. They never ended well. He would remain an unattainable, attractive ideal in your mind until he eventually faded away into a funny memory you’d share with your kids one day.

Until then, though, you would watch him from your window before your morning classes and refused to feel guilty about it. So, that was that, no ifs, ands, or buts about it.

On the morning in question, you had woken up a little late and in a foul mood. In preparation for a test in your foundations of algebra course you had spent the better part of the night pouring over formulas while your upstairs neighbor’s bed slammed repeatedly into the wall and floor. Though you were sure they were having an excellent time, you were most definitely not. It all culminated in you missing your original alarms and despite the fact that your first class started at 10, you were exhausted, furious, and not looking forward to missing breakfast to finish the assigned reading you had put off the night before. The only thing keeping you from throwing in the towel and just giving up was the promise of seeing the painter.

So, when he arrived for the day at 8 am sharp, you were positioned at the ledge by your window, textbook in hand with a mug of instant coffee at your right. It was like a breath of fresh air.

As usual, he retrieved a small pack of cigarettes from the back of his eternally paint-stained jeans only to bring one to his lips and light it quickly. He always smoked before he worked, and just like always, he took an extra cigarette from the pack to tuck behind his ear for later. Then, he got to work setting up his easel and the small stool where he set his palette.

Pulling tubes of acrylic, brushes, and pencils from his well-worn messenger bag, easel boy flipped out the kickstand without any problem and set his thick, pre-primed canvas on the worn metal. You watched in fascination. Art had always seemed so unattainable to you. Instead, you were drawn to the more academic. The man before you, though, created beauty with an ease that had evaded you all your life, and it had you both jealous and entirely intrigued. Slowly, you reached down to take a sip of your coffee as you let your eyes drift back to your reading.

Learning about ancient Babylon was far less interesting than watching him, though.  

When you next looked out the window and away from your work the handsome artist had created his base sketch already. How did he do it so fast? You assumed it was practice. He had been drawing the same 3 buildings every weekday morning for at least a month, so after a while, it must have been second nature to measure out the lines and put things into perspective. You smiled. He tended to have that effect on you.

The process was repeated until a little before 9:30. You would read a few paragraphs then look up to watch the painting progress from a sketch to a full-fledged work of art. It was good today from what you could see. The colors were a bit more muted than usual, but that was only on account of the awful, dreary overcast sky that threatened to dump rain on the city at any time. Overall, you would have considered it a masterpiece. Easel boy didn’t seem to think the same.

He regarded the painting with a sort of begrudging satisfaction that bordered on disappointment before he pulled the second cigarette from behind his ear, lit it, and began the process of packing up his materials. You finished the last of your coffee watching him do so. Smoking, well, smoking tobacco at least, had always been a vice you had avoided and yet you often wondered what it would feel like to take a drag of one of his cigarettes after it had been between his lips. Then, the magic lifted.

He folded up the flimsy easel, tucked it away with his materials back into his messenger bag, hoisted the stool under one arm and the painting under the other before taking off at a brisk clip down the street away from your window. You watched him until he was out of sight.

You were snapped from your concentration by a knock at your door.

“Y/N,” a heavily accented voice called, sending you scrambling for your bag, “If you are not outside in the next 15 seconds I will break down your door,”

Shit.

“Coming, Sasha!” You wailed. It took about 10 of those seconds to grab your backpack and shove your textbook inside, an extra 2 to check your appearance in the mirror- you looked slightly disheveled, but it was the best you were gonna do after the night you’d had. Besides, it wasn’t like you were doing anything important. You didn’t need to be dressed for a date -and you were opening the door for a quick save at the 14th second. Your door was safe for another day.

Out in the hall waited Sasha Balandin, arms crossed and grey eyes piercing in the flickering light of the terrible overhead fluorescents. As a fellow international student, you had become fast friends with Sasha. He was a little rough around the edges, and definitely didn’t take your bullshit, but he was a rare friend. “I have been waiting for 10 minutes,” he griped. You tried your best to look apologetic. “Don’t do that,”

“Do what?” You asked, closing and locking your door behind you as you began walking down the hallway.

Sasha huffed. “Do not pretend you were not too busy ogling that painter in the courtyard to hear me knocking on your door,” His Russian bluntness was on full display now as you shook your head in mock disbelief.

“I can’t believe you’d accuse me of something like that!”

“It is not an accusation if it is true,”

“There’s no way you know for a fact that I was watching him again,”

“But you were. This happens every week,”

You sighed, pausing at the top of the stairs. “I was,”

Taking the stairs in twos, Sasha sighed. “You are too soft, Y/N. Besides, you have said so often that he seems like an asshole. Why do you continue to get all mushy at him out the window if this is the case?”

“Because… well, because…” for a moment, you floundered in search of an answer that wouldn’t make you sound like a complete freak, but you found that there really wasn’t one. It came down the one small factor. “He’s just really hot, okay?”

The look Sasha gave you could have killed. He kept his mouth shut, though, choosing to let his silence shame you more than anything else did. It worked. For the entire trip down the stairs and the mile-long walk to your lecture hall, you felt the weight of shame heavy on your shoulders. Or maybe it was just your backpack. You didn’t know which you’d prefer. He did start speaking again eventually, going on about some party you had missed in favor of studying, but the feeling never left. Even as you sat down for your lecture it was still at the forefront of your mind. In fact, you were so busy thinking about your crush on easel boy and the problems with it that you barely paid attention to the professor’s rehashing of the Epic of Gilgamesh.

Your error only hit when the professor flipped the PowerPoint to the final slide.

“Before you go, I want to remind you that you have a paper on the importance of Enkidu in the Epic is due at the beginning of class this Friday. The details and requirements should be listed in your syllabus. Class dismissed,”

Fuck.

Friday was only two days away.

You were so screwed.

The problem was, you didn’t have a spare copy of the Epic of Gilgamesh just lying around your dorm room. Usually that wouldn’t have been an issue, the professor for your current history course used English for her slide because her particular history course was specifically for first-year international students. Unfortunately for you, though, you hadn’t been taking notes. Instead, you had been daydreaming about how it would feel to have easel boy blow his cigarette smoke in your face and then subsequently scolding yourself for having thoughts like that about a total stranger. In a terrible twist of fate, the professor only held office hours after her last classes on Mondays and Fridays, so even getting the information from her then was off the table. Dread began to pool in your stomach.

Any other student would have been able to cut their losses, rent a copy from the library, slog through it in a night, and write the damn essay even without the help of the classroom slides for context. The only problem was all the books in the library were in Sokovian, and you still barely knew how to order a coffee correctly. Reading the language in a full Cyrillic alphabet would just be impossible, especially for a book as stupidly old as the Epic of Gilgamesh.

In short, unless you could get your hands on a copy in the next day or so, you were absolutely, well-and-truly fucked.

Sasha was quick to find you as the hall cleared out, waiting near your seat as you packed away your notes. “That was all bullshit, no?” He asked, but the second he took in your slightly panicked expression he stopped short, pinching the bridge of his nose and breathing deeply. You knew what he was going to say before he ever said it.

“Something is wrong. You were not paying attention. Were you thinking-”

“Yes. Okay? Yes, I was thinking about him,”

He shook his head slightly. “I am concerned for you,”

“Who isn’t?”

Despite his usually stoic demeanor, that made Sasha huff out a soft laugh. “You got yourself into this mess, Y/N, you will get yourself out somehow,”

Your jaw dropped as you slung your bag over your shoulder and started making your way towards the door. “You’re not gonna help me?”

“Though I would love to be helpful, you forget that my English is poor. It will do me better to read the book in Sokovian myself than to use the information from class,”

Oh, yeah. You winced. “Sorry, Sash’”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” he shrugged as you walked out onto the lawn, chilled to the bone by the wind that whipped in every direction.

A storm was brewing. It might not fully take hold of the city for a few hours yet, but it would make the walk to your evening class absolute hell if the rain fell as hard as it had several weeks prior. You could only hope that it wouldn’t start until after you had walked home. Your odds were looking slim, though, based on the way you could already hear thunder clapping in the distance. After a moment you hit the edge of the sidewalk where your paths would diverge.

“Good luck with the paper,” you offered weakly.

Sasha replied with a sharp, “Good luck with your crush,” and then he was off in the opposite direction without another word. Sasha was blunt like that, never overstaying his welcome or lingering when he didn’t need to. There was something enviable about it. What you wouldn’t give to be able to simply say things as they were without an unnecessary sugar coating to save face and spare feelings. It lingered on your mind for the whole half-mile walk to the campus bookstore. Speaking of which...

There was only one place where you might possibly find an English copy of the Epic of Gilgamesh. It wasn’t the big student bookstore, most of the textbooks there had been in Sokovian, Russian, or German and you hadn’t even tried to set foot in their actual book section. No, your only hope was the tiny hole-in-the-wall bookstore you had stumbled upon during move-in. It was only about half a mile away from your dorm from any of your lecture halls, so you often found yourself wandering inside when you had time to kill. They were one of the only stores you’d come across that sold anything in English, magazines included, so despite the fact that the young cashiers rarely spoke your language you often found that the back shelves of that tiny shop kept you from going mad.

Now, they might also be keeping you from ruining your GPA.

You could only hope. If anybody could save you, it was them.

Ducking in through the small doorway, you were greeted by the soft ring of the bell above your head. The attendant at the register simply regarded you with a polite nod. You had seen her there before and she knew you barely spoke a lick of Sokovian, so she didn’t attempt a pleasantry. Instead, she simply let you wander through the entrance and into the towering bookshelves, passing a few other faceless shoppers on your way towards the back. You were grateful for her nonchalance.

If there was anything worse than feeling foolish for not knowing Sokovian, it was being talked down to in perfect English by a Sokovian citizen. Most interactions left you wishing you’d actually taken anything away from your high school French class other than emotional trauma from your teacher and a caffeine addiction. Damn America and its terrible public-school language programs…

The path to the English classics section was one you’d walked many times since discovering the book store. It was right in the very back corner of the shop, tucked away where the city natives wouldn’t have to address or see it. You had snagged a copy of Pride and Prejudice a few weeks back, so you knew exactly where to search. The only problem was slogging through every single book on the shelf in search of the one you were looking for.

Your eyes scanned the wall.  

Gilgamesh, Gilgamesh, Gilgamesh…

Gilgamesh!

On the 6th shelf up sat one small copy. Score! You were saved! As you reached up to grab it, though, you were met with yet another roadblock. The shelf it was on was juuuust a little too high for you to reach. Oh, come on…

You hopped a little, extending your hand up as far as it could go, but your fingers just barely brushed the spine. Somewhere behind you, you could hear footsteps. Then someone coughed to suppress laughter. The shame was plain on your face. As your flannel rode up and you stretched up in one last desperate attempt to grab the book when suddenly someone, you assumed the same person who had been laughing at your misfortune, spoke.

“They have stools, you know,” he said, accented voice thick with amusement. The English surprised you, but you assumed they used it for your benefit. You were in front of the English language books after all. Besides, the shame of it all kept your mind from questioning it too much. “For reaching the top shelf,”

Of course they had stools.

If your face hadn’t already been burning with embarrassment it definitely was now.

In a split-second decision, you decided playing dumb was the only way you could walk out of the situation with any dignity left at all, so you plastered on a confused smile and spun around to greet the stranger. “Really? I had no cl-”

You stopped short.

Oh.

Oh no.

You’d know those paint-stained jeans anywhere.

There, with his hands in his pockets and the most self-important, thin-lipped smirk you had ever seen, was easel boy in all of his cocky, intimidating, hot glory. Had you really noticed how hot he truly was before? It didn’t feel like it. Not now that you’d really seen him close up and reveled in the way his dark eyes hypnotized you with their smudged liner that felt borderline obscene. You could smell him too, all charcoal and turpentine and cigarette smoke. If you had it bad before when he was just a blurry ideal out your window, you were completely and utterly smitten now.

He regarded you with a sort of practiced annoyance, and yet there was a strange softness to it that you hadn’t found in many native Sokovians, especially ones that saw you as the stupid, bumbling American wandering blindly around their country.

“Would you like my help?”

“Huh?” You were so lost in his eyes that you couldn’t even focus on his question.

“To reach your book. Would you like my help?”

“Oh!” With a brisk nod, you stepped away from the shelf to make room for easel boy, “yeah, I’m just trying to grab that one there. The, uh, Epic of Gilgamesh,”

In one swift movement, he was stepping right beside you to easily reach up and grab the offending piece of literature. The closeness of it all nearly sent you into a tailspin. That wasn’t even mentioning the way your heart thudded just a little faster when he finally handed the book to you, his calloused fingers brushing against your own. You barely find a grip on your brain strong enough to thank him through the fog of embarrassment and attraction. Eventually, though, you managed to choke out a placation as your eyes explored the cover of the book.

“Thanks for that,”

“It was no problem,” he shrugged. He didn’t move though, still standing just inches away from you. When you looked up from the book you found his eyes were still on you, watching intently as if he expected something from you. The answer to what he actually expected was a mystery but you could tell he wanted something. When you didn’t speak, he spoke for you. “So, The Epic of Gilgamesh? That’s definitely a bold choice,”

You looked up at him sheepishly through heavily lidded eyes. “It’s not a choice at all, actually. I’m only buying it so I can write an essay,”

“Ah,” Something about his tone was almost disappointed as the conversation stalled.

You quickly changed the subject to the first thing you could think of.

“Your hair is really nice!”

“My hair?”

“Yeah… your hair,”

Smooth move, dumbass.

Easel boy’s expression seemed to soften once more as his signature grin crept back onto his face. “Thank you, I grew it myself,” Between his accent and the way he was looking at you like he was going to eat you alive, you weren’t exactly sure how you hadn’t had a heart attack yet. Still, the attention was nice, even if it was bourne out of you repeatedly embarrassing yourself in a never-ending cycle of fuckups. He ran a hand through his loose brown hair. “I like your shirt. Very American,”

Silently, you cursed yourself for not taking a few extra seconds to pick out a better outfit when you woke up. Standing next to him, even while he was dressed in his paint-stained jeans and undone button-up, you looked like a wreck in comparison. He didn’t seem to be speaking from a place of judgment, though.

If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was being nice, but that couldn’t be the case… could it?

“Maybe it’s just that I haven’t met very many Sokovians that are fond of America, but I’m not sure if that was meant to be a compliment or an insult,” You joked. It was a bit sarcastic, the lilt of your voice masking your deep insecurity, and to your surprise easel boy laughed. He really laughed. From your place beside him, you could almost feel the warmth radiating off of him as he shook his head.

“It was definitely a compliment,”

Oh.

Your heart skipped a beat.

That was a new revelation.

You steeled yourself with a deep breath. Fuck it. It was now or never.

“I, uh… I’m Y/N, and you are?”

He regarded you once again with that strange expression of expectation. “What?”

“I asked for your name,” you repeated, and yet he still stood, slightly dumbfounded, staring down at you with that same expectant expression from earlier. For a moment, you almost thought he expected you to know it already. That fact was quickly glossed over when he moved to rub the back of his neck with his hand, eyes drifting down to the floor.

“Sorry,” he chuckled, “I’m not very good with people. My father thought college might help me finally connect with my peers, but I don’t think he expected that I was the problem, nor do I think he expected me to pick a degree in the arts,” Suddenly, he paused and stuck out his hand to you. “I’m Hel. It’s very nice to meet you Y/N,”

With only a moment of hesitation- because wow, your name had never sounded more right on someone’s lips -you took his large calloused hand in your own and shook it gently. His palm was warm, his fingers lingering on your own for just a moment even as he pulled away. It wasn’t much, just a soft brush against your flesh, but it sent a flash of heat and liquid confidence through your chest.

“Is that short for something?” Your eyes met his in the soft yellow glow of the overhead lamps. Seeing him like this, so up close and personal, he looked a lot more human than he had from your window. Sure, he was imposing. Underneath the initial harsh facade, though, was something softer and almost poetic. You weren’t an artist by any means but if you had been, you had no doubt that he’d be your muse.

“It’s short for Helmut, but only my father calls me that, and only when he’s cross, which, unfortunately, is most of the time,” he chuckled, “Besides, it’s an old man’s name. It doesn’t suit me,”

The words left your mouth before you knew what you were saying.

“Well, it’s better than calling you easel boy,”

Shit.

Today really just wasn’t your day, huh?

In the split second where you were mourning your chances with the most stupidly handsome guy who had ever shown any interest in you, you almost missed the way Helmut’s eyes lit up at the admission.

“Easel boy?” His voice was teasing, but not demeaning. That didn’t do much to ease your mortification, though.

“Is there any chance that I can get you to forget I said anything?”

“If you already have a nickname for me when we’ve barely met, I think you already know the answer to that question,”

His knowing smirk was enough to get you pleading. “You can’t just let me off the hook this once?” you begged, scrubbing a hand across your forehead in a desperate attempt to get away from his piercing gaze. The things those brown eyes did to you could be classified as obscene… “I will genuinely do anything if you don’t make me explain myself right now Hel,”

Hel quirked up an eyebrow. “Anything?” The way your stomach turned at just one word from him was both terrifying and extremely exciting. It felt like a promise. Without hesitation, you nodded. That made him smile. “In that case, get coffee with me today?”

Once again, you were rendered speechless.

“My treat,” he added, “unless you’re not interested…”

“No!” Your answer left your lips embarrassingly fast, “Or- yes? No, no, I think I meant no. No; I am very interested. Yes; I would like to get coffee with you,” There was a hint of shame in your words, but only a hint. After the day you’d had already, there wasn’t very much there to be ashamed of. Still, that same pit of dread began to open up in your stomach as you mulled over your choices.

Thankfully, Helmut continued to take it all in stride. “Wonderful! Is there anything else you’d like to do here before we go? It’s best we leave soon if we want to beat the rain,” He offered up his arm as he spoke like some sort of Disney prince. It was, by far, the cutest gesture you had ever been lucky enough to receive.

You linked your arm with his without hesitation. “As soon as I pay we can get going,” He was warm. It radiated off him in waves just like the warm hints of tobacco and wintermint that seemed to seep from his skin and clothes. With that, you made your way to the front desk as Hel shot you a sly smile.

“Who said anything about letting you pay?”

True to his word, he didn’t let you pay for a single thing for the rest of the afternoon.

The two of you made your way up to the cashier together, and Helmut only separated from your side to grab his wallet before you could grab yours. He then spoke in rapid-fire Sokovian to the lady at the register and pulled what could only be described as a wad of Sokovian koronas while you set the book on the counter, and from the looks of it, she seemed more than pleased with the two of you. Who wouldn’t be, especially when Hel seemed to insist that she keep the excess? In the end, after the book had been wrapped nicely in a paper bag and deposited in your backpack, Helmut held the door open for you like some sort of gentleman and followed you out into the grey afternoon.

Then, you were off down the street on Hel’s arm, pushing through the wind and the biting chill that had settled in the air.

“So, you don’t sound like a big fan of your dad,” you asked, half laughing as you attempted to broach conversation once again.

Helmut groaned beside you. “My father is a menace who is unable to understand that some people want more in life than to sit behind a desk all day making phone calls. In fact, most of my family is the same way. The only reason I haven’t completely cut them off and changed my name is the money,”

“I assume you get a lot of it if it’s worth sticking around someone you hate so much,”

“Never ask a man about his net worth,” he chuckled, gently elbowing you in the ribs, “but yes, I’m very comfortable. I have my own apartment just far enough away to be considered off-campus with my own car and as much money as it takes to keep me happy and getting good grades; Daddy makes sure of that,” The word daddy was a deep sneer, barely there in the wind, but something about it sent butterflies through your stomach. Well, that was never something you thought you were into… “Little does he know, I’m not here to make money. I’m here to find inspiration worth my time while out from under his thumb,”  

You snorted softly. “Artistic and rich? You’re just ticking all the boxes, Hel,”

“Good for me. Would offering help on that essay of yours endear you to me further?”

“Absolutely,”

The next 5 minutes you spend discussing the Epic of Gilgamesh. Surprisingly, in one of the first stokes of good luck you’d had all day, Helmut seemed to be one of the only people on earth who knew plenty about Enkidu off the top of his head. When he was the one lecturing you in his smooth, heavily accented timbre it was so much easier to pay attention to something so very tedious than when you heard it from your aging and often monotone professor. In fact, you were so enthralled by his retelling of the tale that you barely noticed you’d made it all the way to the cafe that sat across from the international dorm.

If you didn’t consider Hel to be smart as a whip and twice as clever as he was smart, you would have thought it was a coincidence. It couldn’t be though. No, there was no way anything was a coincidence with Helmut around. You shot him a smile when he opened the door for you and ushered you inside.

“You know Hel,” you muttered, “I’m starting to think you might know more about me than you initially let on,”

He shrugged. “You’re American, so it’s unlikely you live anywhere else and I wanted to make the walk home easy. It’s supposed to rain, you know? Besides, despite the… interesting waitstaff, they make the best pastries in town right here in this cafe,”

“Did you mean it when you said you were paying?”

“Absolutely,”

“Then I can’t wait to try one,”

The two of you were seated quickly (you assumed it had to do with the waitress finding Hel as hot as you did, because you caught her looking at him from behind the counter and whispering excitedly in Sokovian to her coworker at least twice over the course of the meal) and the conversation flowed easily as you waited on your coffees and the deserts Helmut insisted on splitting to let you try. Millefeuille, pear tart tatin, chocolate devil’s food cake, and a towering plate of apricot kołaczki awaited you, and they kept you sitting and talking and snacking for over an hour as you really got to know each other. The more you learned, the more you fell in love with the man across from you.

Over the course of the afternoon, you learned that Helmut was majoring in studio art while minoring in psychology just because it interested him, he hated the Beatles almost as much as he hated Freud’s theories on women, his favorite color was purple, and he spent most of his free time reading or getting high off his ass in his massive studio apartment in what you now knew was one of the most expensive areas in the city. He, in return, sat at rapt attention across the table as you gushed about your life in America, your reasons for going to university in Sokovia, your favorite books, and the ridiculousness that was trying to pass college-level classes in a country that seemed to avoid English at all costs.

Eventually, though, you did touch upon his nickname.

“I just thought it was really interesting that you did the same thing every single day, no matter what,” you explained, grabbing one of the last kołaczki from the plate and ignoring the powdered sugar that stuck to your fingers, “and by watching you… I don’t know, I guess it kind of felt like I had another friend who’d share breakfast with me in the morning if that makes sense,”

Hel nodded, swallowing his last bite of chocolate cake. “I understand completely. It can be lonely, coming to a new place without any friends or connections, but you were brave enough to take the leap. I admire that,” He brought his napkin to his lips before crumpling it and setting it one of the now empty plates before him, “But I can’t say I’m not a little disappointed that you didn’t watch me because I’m attractive,”

You nearly choked on your pastry. “Well, I wouldn’t say your pretty face didn’t help…”

The grin that spread across his face was heartstopping. He grabbed a napkin from the little holder next to the two of you and grabbed a pen from one of his pockets as he spoke. “In that case, you should join me tomorrow morning. Bring coffee if you can, I never have enough hands to bring a cup for myself, but even if you can’t bring some, if you want to come and watch me work I’d be more than happy to have a companion for the morning,” he paused for a moment, flustered, “or every morning, for that matter,”

“That sounds like a deal,” Your cheeks were hot, but not from embarrassment this time. No, it was anything but, because here you were across the table from a kind, attractive, intelligent Sokovian boy with money to spend and time to spare for you. You couldn’t help but feel a little bit proud too. He wanted you back, after all. You could see it in the way his eyes lingered on you just a little longer than he should, and even more plainly in the way he wrote his phone number in bold blue ink on the napkin and signed it with a doodle of a heart before passing it across the table to you.

“I’m going to go pay,” he said quietly while standing, “but I’ll be back in a second to walk you out. Alright?”

“Alright,”

There was something strangely similar to sorrow sitting in your chest when you watched him walk away. The sight of his ass as he went made up for it, though. Once he was obstructed by other patrons, you turned your attention to the napkin in your hands. Hel’s handwriting was neat as far as artists’ handwriting goes, but it still held a sort of looseness in its curves, a freedom in the way the numbers had flowed effortlessly from his pen. You popped the last kołaczki in your mouth as you admired the blue ink before devouring the final bites of pear tart and millefeuille. How had you gotten so lucky to have someone like him giving you his number and buying you pastries? You pondered the bizarre nature of it all until Helmut returned.

You stood quickly, folding the napkin and putting it away in your pocket. “Ready to go?”

“If you are,” he replied. In an instant, you were standing beside him again as he opened the door for you. The wind was even stronger now, strong enough that his loose hair whipped wildly around his forehead from the force of it. You couldn’t help but giggle at his appearance.

He caught you off guard as he walked you across the street. “You have such a pretty laugh,”

It was like you were seeing him again for the first time. You fiddled with the strap of your backpack as you got closer and closer to the door to your dorm. “Thanks. I’m pretty fond of your laugh too,”

Then, you were there, just two college kids standing awkwardly before your first departure.

“So,” you said before you could stop yourself, “when I tell my one friend all about this afternoon after my math class tonight, should I say it was a date?”

Hel’s cheeks flushed pink. “You can call it that, if that’s what you would like it to have been,”

“I think I would,”

“Good, good,” he let out a little chuckle, “I’m glad. Would you… would you consider going on another? I promise I have much more to offer than just small talk and tips on where to buy the best pastries,”

Looking into his brown eyes, so full of uncertainty and hope, you knew you couldn’t have denied him even if you wanted to. Still, you weren’t going to give in to his advances without a little bit of taunting. It made it fun, a game to be played where, hopefully, you both would win big in the end.

“That depends,” you teased, letting your lower lip catch between your teeth, “what do you have in mind?”

Helmut shoved his hands into his pockets as he rocked back and forth on his heels, pensive. “If you want to, we could go to my place and I could actually show you all of the paintings I’ve been working on while you watched me. The view from the rooftop is lovely too. We could have dinner up there while looking out over Novi Grad. I have to warn you, though, it’ll probably be takeout. I’m an atrocious chef,”

Slowly, a brilliant smile spread across your face. “Does Friday work?”

The smile Helmut shot back was as bright as every star in the night sky and even more enthralling. “Friday is perfect. Can I pick you up at 7?”

“As long as you come in that fancy car you were talking about,”

“Then it’s a deal,”

“Well,” you turned away, walking up the steps towards the door before turning back to him, “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, Hel, and I’ll bring coffee. Have a good night,”

“You too, Y/N. Parting is such sweet sorrow and all that,”

With that, he gave one last short wave before turning on his heel and pulling out a cigarette from the pack in his pocket. You watched him walk away until he turned the corner and disappeared from view. Only then did you enter the punch code and race up the stairs to your room.

Your back was pressed to the door of your dorm room the second you had shut it, your hands clutching at your chest in a desperate attempt to keep your heart from beating right out of your ribs. The second you were in the privacy of your own place, your cool facade had melted away to reveal just how much of a wreck you really were.

He had invited you over to his apartment.

He liked you.

Easel boy really, honestly liked you.

No, not easel boy. Helmut. Hel.

Hel liked you, and he invited you over to his apartment, and you had plans to meet him with coffee as he painted the next morning.

You smiled softly under the fluorescent lights and pulled the book that had brought you together from your backpack. It seemed so unassuming now, just a fresh paperback with an unbroken spine, but in reality, it was so much more than that.

Hel.

It was such a nice name. You liked it a lot.

Now you couldn’t wait to see what else you liked about him too.

------

a/n: I have been so excited to start sharing this AU with you guys, and it’s finally here!!! If you liked this fic, I once again will direct you to Bliss by @creme-bruhlee​ because that’s technically next in chronological order for this AU. I hope you enjoyed!!!

TAGLIST: @tatestripedsweater , @elaineygrace, @multiyfandomgirl40 ,  @lovelymischief , @rami-malek-trash , @avgravy , @wh0re-4-techno , @forcebros , @sugarsweetkiss , @grandmuffinsharkbailiff , @killsandthrills , @novasstudy , @thnksfr-ptrkstmp , @inmate-marmalade, @alanathedeer , @your-pixels-are-showing , @shit-post-things , @bbarton​ , @sux-ubus , @halefirewarrior , @janelongxox , @rax-writes , @mossybank​ , @simsiddy​ , @xxspqcebunsxx​ , @be-cautious-around-bri​ , @metaphorical-love-for-a-car​ , @frothonthedaydreams​ 

[fruitcoops]

could we see coops first big fight when they’re married? (essentially pure angst)

Yes, we can! Don’t worry, I got your follow-up ask about a happy ending as well--there are no sad endings on this blog, just some bittersweet ones, and this is very soft and fluffy. Hope you enjoy!

Combined with prompts for...

1. Another of Coops’ serious talks

2. Remus overworking himself to keep up

3. From @colored-rain: Sirius sleeping at Dumo’s for a night

4. Slow dancing in the kitchen

TW for couples fighting, suppression, and marriage issues

“Do you think we got married too fast?” a quiet voice asked in the darkness.

Remus paused for several heartbeats before opening his eyes and turning over; Sirius was staring at the ceiling, wide awake. “What?”

“Do you think we got married too fast?” Sirius repeated without looking at him.

“Do you?” Remus countered. Something panicky was starting to buzz in the back of his brain and he tried to keep his breaths steady. Sirius wasn’t breaking up with him. They had only been married for a few months. Things were really, really good—as far as he knew, they were both happier than they had ever been.

Sirius sighed through his nose. “I don’t know.”

“What?” Remus sat up against the headboard, wide awake. “What do you mean, you don’t know?”

“I—” Sirius shifted to sit up as well and crossed his legs. “I don’t know! People usually date for a lot longer than a year and a half before getting married, right?”

“We’ve known each other for seven years, Sirius.”

“Yes, and I love you, and you’re wonderful, but everything happened so fast.”

Remus wasn’t sure if his heart was trying to crawl out of his chest or dissolve into a puddle of pain. “Are you—Sirius, are you breaking up with me?”

“No!” Sirius said immediately. “I just said I love you, what the hell?”

“People can love each other and still break up!”

Sirius grabbed his hands, holding tight even when Remus tried to pull back and let his panic overtake him. Grey eyes locked on his, as solemn as he had ever seen them. “I’m not breaking up with you, Remus.” The clock on the nightstand beeped midnight and Sirius pressed his lips together. “We have early practice.”

“We need to talk.”

“We need to sleep.”

“Promise we’ll talk tomorrow, then.” We need to talk right now, actually.

Sirius squeezed his hands and kissed his cheek. His cheek. “I promise.”

Remus didn’t sleep much that night. His cheek burned with the memory of Sirius’ lips.

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

Their morning routine was stilted and quiet. Practice was awkward, and though neither of them let the previous night’s events influence their performance, he knew the tension was palpable. “Y’all good?” Leo asked under his breath as Remus filled his waterbottle up.

“We’re fine,” he answered, exhausted.

“Loops—”

“Stay in your lane, Knut.” He regretted the words as soon as they escaped his mouth—the kicked-puppy look on Leo’s face was more than enough to make guilt spike up—but he kept on moving down the hall and tried to wash the bitter taste from his mouth.

The ride home was worlds worse than he could have expected. Sirius turned the radio off the moment it started to play and kept his eyes firmly on the windshield the entire time, tapping his thumb against the wheel in the tic that always appeared when he was nervous. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t help us fix whatever’s going on.” Remus wasn’t angry, per say, but he was really fucking frustrated with Sirius’ sudden inability to communicate. “Talk to me. What happened?”

Sirius chewed the edge of his lip. “I was just thinking.”

There was a long stretch of silence between them. “Wow, thank you for that incredibly helpful information,” Remus said sarcastically when it became clear he wasn’t going to continue.

“You don’t have to be mean about it,” Sirius muttered.

“I’m not trying to be mean—”

“Well, you kind of were—”

“Then maybe you should talk about your problems for once!” Remus snapped before he could shove it back down. Sirius’ jaw clenched. “If we’re going to work through this, then you have to tell me what the hell happened to make you so worried and upset. Do you regret getting married to me?”

The response was immediate. “No.”

“Thank you.” He leaned his head back against the seat rest and closed his eyes. “Thank you, that was what I needed to hear.”

“Do you think we moved too fast?”

Remus scrubbed a hand over his face. “I used to. I don’t, anymore. There’s no rulebook for any of this. How long have you been thinking about that?”

Sirius started tapping the wheel again. “A couple weeks.”

He may as well have opened the passenger door and booted Remus from the car. A breath punched out of his lungs. “A couple weeks?” he whispered. The world was spinning, the floor was open, hell itself was coming to swallow him up. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I figured it was normal marriage stuff. That it would pass.”

“Oh my god.”

“I don’t have a clue what I’m doing.”

“And I do?” Remus said incredulously. “News flash: this is the first time I’ve ever been married, too!”

“Please don’t be angry.”

“Being married means you share things, Sirius, not keep them bottled up for two weeks! Especially when they concern the other person!”

Something stormy came over his face. “Oh, really? So when were you planning on talking to me about the fact that you haven’t slept in six days?”

“I literally sleep next to you!”

“You toss and turn all night, and then you get up and run drills for an hour before coming back to bed. Every time I ask how you slept, you lie to my face, Remus. That’s not okay.”

Remus was speechless. He had done everything he could think of to be quiet and careful so Sirius wouldn’t know. “I…”

Sirius glanced over at him, eyebrows raised. “Yeah, I noticed.”

Be an adult. Be an adult. You’re married. Be an adult. “I’m still worried about catching up to the team.”

“I figured. We’ve talked about this before, Re, it’s not safe for you to do that to yourself—”

“You don’t get it!” Sirius pulled into their driveway and turned the car off. “You have no idea how it feels to constantly be catching up to people! I’m fine, it’s not like I’m doing any damage!”

“I’m sorry, did you forget who you’re talking to?”

Remus clenched his teeth and got out of the car, grabbing his duffel from the backseat before slamming the door. He felt a little guilty—the rising memories of hushed confessions of hours of exercise to his father’s whistle meant Sirius understood better than anyone. Then the front door closed behind them both and the indignance on Sirius’ face sent his temper flaring up again. “You never bother to talk to me about anything that’s going on with you, so why should I even try?”

“What happened to ‘marriage is a partnership’?” Sirius followed him into the kitchen. “Have we moved on to the hypocrite stage yet or are we still clearing the air where nothing ever gets solved?”

Remus reeled back like he’d been slapped. “Fucking excuse me?”

“Every time we fight, you start all sarcastic and defensive, and then you get preachy like you’re reading something out of a fucking self-help book!” Sirius ran a hand through his hair. “Christ, Remus, it feels like I’m talking to a therapist instead of my partner!”

“Husband!” The ring on his finger had always been a comfort instead of a lead weight. “You can’t even say it?”

“I don’t regret marrying you!

“Then why are you so upset about us being married young?!”

“Because it’ll fall apart!” Sirius shouted back. “We’re going to be insufferably happy for a while, and then somewhere along the line we’re going to hate each other, and then it’ll be cold looks when we pass and different beds and all our friends will have to pick sides because we can’t stand to be in the same room together!”

“If you’re so sure about that, then why are you trying to fucking hard to keep us together?” Remus’ heart pounded like he’d run a marathon. Hearing his own fears thrown in his face was the most terrifying thing he had ever experienced.

“Because I love you.” Sirius’ voice broke. They were on opposite sides of the kitchen island, but Remus could see the pain on his face. “I love you, and I don’t want some—some impulsive decision to ruin that forever.”

“I love you, too.” Tears clogged the back of Remus’ throat. So stop pushing me away.

“Then I’ll be at Dumo’s.”

Remus nodded silently as Sirius walked past him toward the stairs; the moment he was out of sight, he headed into the downstairs bathroom and sat down with his back to the closed door, burying his face in his forearms. There was a rustle outside, and the front door closed with a click.

It wasn’t until his face itched with drying tears that he remembered Hattie. Guilt and panic stabbed through him and he scrambled back out, sprinting to her bed and then to the backyard. “Hattie?” he called, frantic with worry. “Hattie, c’mere!”

He closed his eyes and thought back to the events of the day. They had left her in the house for practice, and he vaguely remembered hearing her in the other room while they were fighting, and when Sirius left—

“Oh, you bastard,” he said aloud. The rustling of Sirius grabbing his duffel and whatever else he packed had been accompanied by the pattering of Hattie’s paws. “You took our fucking dog.”

Part of him was grateful that at least somebody had remembered their baby. The other part was absolutely furious. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and took a few deep breaths as the tone played. “Hello?”

“Can you pick me up?”

“Re, are you okay?”

“Not really. Can you pick me up?”

Concern dripped from Lily’s voice. “Where are you?”

“At home.”

“…where’s Sirius?”

“At Dumo’s.”

“I’m on my way.”

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

Harry Potter had been alive for less than two years, and he had been cried on by about half the Lions. Finn had started referring to him as ‘therapy baby’, and Remus was inclined to agree—it was hard to feel anything extreme when he was holding the pudgy little angel to his chest.

“So you fought?” Lily asked gently from the armchair across from him. Remus nodded. The whole story had spilled out in a gross mess of sobbing and baby snuggles until he laid down on his back, holding Harry to his chest as he dozed.

“I feel like an idiot,” he said miserably.

“Don’t.”

“It was awful.”

“I bet.”

Remus sniffled and kissed the top of Harry’s head. “Thank you for getting me. I didn’t want to be there alone.”

“I’m glad you called.” She took a sip of tea and gave him a look that he never liked. “Re, can I be honest with you?”

“Always.”

“I was kind of waiting for this to happen.” At his stricken expression, she folded her hands around the sides of her mug. “I don’t think you got married too early, because neither of you do big things like that on impulse and you love each other so much. However, I do think that you have a habit of trying to protect each other from the shit you carry with you. James did the same thing to me, and it sucked.”

“It does suck,” Remus agreed. “I hate the thought that he can’t trust me.”

Lily held her finger up and shook her head. “Nope. It’s not an issue of trust, is it? Why didn’t you tell Sirius that you were having trouble sleeping?”

“Because I didn’t want to worry h—oh.” Harry wiggled around for a moment and Remus adjusted himself so he was leaning on the armrest. “I think I get it now.”

“You guys need to talk about that at some point or it’s going to keep coming up.”

“Is that what you and James did?”

“No, we let it fester for, like, a year and then broke up for two weeks.”

Remus made a sympathetic face. “I forgot about that part. I should call him, huh?”

Lily shrugged. “It’s up to you.”

“I want to apologize,” he said carefully. The sore spot in his heart and chest still twinged. “But I’m still really upset. And hurt. And a little angry? Mostly worried. There’s so much happening, I just want to hold your baby.”

“Go for it, he’s having a blast. Lover?”

There was a shuffling sound from the other room before James appeared in the doorway. “Yes?”

Remus snorted. “Simp.”

“Yes, and? What’s up, darling?”

“Can I have some more tea?” She batted her eyelashes at him with a dimpled smile and he sighed, then took her mug with him into the kitchen.

“You only love me for my kettle!” he called over his shoulder with a grin.

“Maybe!”

Remus turned his head to look at Lily while he ran a hand over Harry’s back. “Lils?”

“Hmm?”

“Am I preachy when I’m upset?”

She frowned. “What?”

“Preachy. Like—like I’m reading out of a self-help book.”

With a heavy sigh, she stood up and walked to the couch, leaning over the armrest to kiss his forehead. “No, Re, you’re not preachy. You like being right, but you’re not preachy.”

“Sirius thinks we’ll end up like his parents.”

“I’m not surprised about that, either.” She brushed his messy hair off his forehead and braided a small strand along the front, then gave it a little tug. “Guest bedroom’s yours for as long as you need it, okay?”

“That might be a while.”

She shook her head and patted his shoulder. “It won’t.”

“Could be.”

“Remus.”

“Sorry. Sleep well, Lils.” He sat up slightly and covered Harry’s ears. “And you, eavesdropper!”

“Love you!” James laughed from the other room. Lily picked the sleepy baby up and ushered Remus into the guest room with a final ‘goodnight’.

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

“Am I an idiot?” Sirius asked.

The bed creaked as Dumo readjusted his legs. “No, mon fils, you’re not an idiot. You are a young man going through his first marriage spat.”

“I hate it. I hate it. I said horrible things to him.”

“It sounds like you’re both to blame.”

“No, I brought it up first.” Dumo huffed, and he let out a slow exhale into the pillow. “Okay, maybe—maybe we were both in the wrong.”

“Fights are rarely one-sided. You have a visitor.”

Something cold prodded Sirius’ ear and he groaned, then curled on his side to let Hattie onto the covers next to him. “Bonjour, sweet girl. Thank you for the cuddles.”

She licked his nose and he smiled, petting the velvety top of her head. “Are you staying here tonight?”

“I was thinking about it. Re’s got the house to himself for a bit, then, and he knows I’m here.”

“I’m glad you’re taking the time to calm down a bit,” Dumo said as he stood with a final ruffle of Sirius’ hair. “That’s a wise decision. Bonne nuit.”

Sirius mumbled a response and made more room for Hattie, then settled in for a restless night. He never wanted to sleep alone again.

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

By some miracle, practice was more bearable the second day. Remus still ached somewhere deep inside, but it wasn’t like he had anything else left to suppress. Seeing Sirius was a relief; it surprised him at first, considering the explosive nature of the previous evening, before sliding into something that soothed him. If he could still find peace in Sirius after all that, they would be okay.

He knocked lightly on the side of Sirius’ stall after he returned from the shower. “Knock, knock. Ca—”

“Who’s there?”

Remus’ heart stuttered as Sirius looked up at him from the bench with an apologetic tilt to his mouth. Something clicked into place. “Can I get a ride?”

“ ‘course you can.” Sirius stood up just as Remus stepped forward, and they met in the middle for a tight hug. He tucked his face into the dip of Sirius’ collarbone and breathed in his shower-fresh smell, as well as the trace of laundry detergent from his shirt.

“Love you,” he murmured.

“Let’s go, mon loup.” Sirius pressed a kiss to his hair and they headed out toward the parking lot together; Remus caught Leo’s eye and saw him smile.

“How’s Dumo doing?” Remus asked as they turned out of the parking lot. Start slow, start easy. “Did you drop Hattie off at home before you came to practice?”

“Yeah, I did. He’s good, and Celeste sent me back with some brownies.”

Remus tentatively reached over and rested his hand on the side of Sirius’ thigh—his chest visibly caught before he relaxed into it and reached down to put his own overtop. “Harry’s doing well. Lily says he’s almost started running.”

“Did you go see them?”

“Stayed at their place last night.” He shrugged one shoulder. “It felt weird being there by myself.”

“Re—”

“I’m so sorry.” The words spilled out in a rush, despite his best efforts to keep it in until they reached home. “I’m sorry for everything I said to you, and especially for how I said it. I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you about how I was feeling, too. It should never have gotten to that point.”

“Apology accepted.” Sirius sounded a little choked up. “I don’t think we got married too soon, if that means anything.”

“Of course it means something,” Remus half-laughed as he wiped the dampness from the corners of his eyes. “It means everything.”

“I thought it might be too late.”

“Can you pull over for a second?” Sirius obliged, and as soon as he turned the car off, Remus turned to face him. He linked their hands, making sure Sirius was looking into his eyes. “It is never too late to talk to me, okay? I’m sorry if I ever made you think that it was.”

Sirius unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned over for a brief kiss that sent bubbling warmth throughout Remus’ entire body. “I’m so, so sorry for yelling at you. And for keeping everything in, even though we both promised to stop doing that. All that shit I said, it—it wasn’t true, Re, and I wasn’t thinking.”

Remus rested their foreheads together and wound his fingers in the short curls fanning Sirius’ face. “Honey, we’re not your parents.”

Sirius swallowed hard. “I know.”

“So you don’t have to be afraid that we’re going to hate each other out of the blue, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“If—” His mouth went a little dry and he faltered. “If you want to take a break, or take things slower, I totally respect—”

“Nope, no, no, no,” Sirius interrupted, grabbing his cheeks and pulling him in for another fervent kiss. “I love you. I’m happy with you. I let my head get away from me, and I’m sorry.”

“All’s forgiven, love.” They sat in silence for a minute longer as Sirius traced his jawline. “Let’s go home.”

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

Sirius woke up in bed alone, which would have scared him if he didn’t know exactly where his husband was. He smiled to himself and got out of bed, grabbing a hoodie off their dresser before heading downstairs.

The kitchen light was on and music played quietly from Remus’ phone over the sound of running water. “You’re up late,” he said casually from the doorway.

Remus almost dropped a pot. “Jesus Christ!”

“Just me.” Sirius wrapped his arms around his waist as he set the pot on the drying rack. “Stressed?”

“A little. I forgot to do these earlier and didn’t want to leave them overnight again.” Sirius hummed his agreement and rocked back and forth, then took Remus’ hand and spun him in a slow circle. “Oh, are we slow dancing to the Billboard Top 100 now?”

“Very romantic, I know,” Sirius laughed.

Remus shook his head with a wide grin as they swayed, much too slow for the actual song but absolutely perfect. He was beautiful in the low light of their kitchen, puffy eyes from and all. “You are ridiculous.”

I’m the luckiest person alive. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Sirius leaned down for a series of quick kisses, pulling him in until their chests pressed together. Remus let go of his hand and draped both arms over his shoulders, tangling his hands in his hair. “I know we can’t exactly control it,” Sirius said against his lips. “But let’s never fight like that again.”

“Deal.”

[calaofnoldor]

Driving My Baby

Characters: Dean x Reader (gender neutral)

Words: 2,183 (i can’t drabble)

Summary: Dean doesn’t know about your mad skills behind the wheel, but it turns out there’s nothing hotter than seeing his baby driving his Baby.

Warnings: implied smut, language, fluff, dean’s bow legs, references to the fast and furious franchise

A/N: was originally gonna post a slightly angsty 2-part dean fic next, but decided against it in light off recent events lol. there’s really no plot or substance here, just some light floof. (and yes, the title is a reference to the song ‘you’re having my baby’)

MASTERLIST

The roar of Baby’s engine rumbled to a halt as Dean glanced over at you, “Alright, so you gonna sit tight while I go scope this place out?”

You sent him a close-lipped smile, trying your best to repress the excitement bubbling within you. “Mhm!” you concurred with a bouncy nod, pausing to sneak a quick peek at his shapely behind when he stepped out of the car, “I’ll try and see if I can get a hold of that morgue guy again.”

Walking over to the passenger side, Dean bent down to kiss you through the open window. “Mmkay, I’ll be back soon,” he mumbled against your lips, before turning to commence his search for the potential vamp hideout you suspected was in the vicinity.

“Oh wait! Dean!” you called out, stopping him in his tracks.

“Yeah?”

“The keys?”

Dean looked down at his pocket where the Impala’s keys were safely nestled and then back up at you with raised brows.

“You’re not gonna leave me in here like a dog, are you?” There was a subtle hint of amusement in your voice, but also a challenging edge, as well as a slight pout which you added for good measure. You knew he could never really say ‘no’ to you.

And as expected, Dean returned to deposit the keys into your waiting hands. You gave him a wide smile in return, “Thank you! Love you!”

Your boyfriend narrowed his glimmering green eyes at you, imparting one last suspicious glimpse in your direction as he grumbled somewhat warily, “Love you too,” and then finally sauntered off for good.

Biting your lip, you watched with bated breath as his figure grew smaller in the rear-view mirror. Normally, you would have enjoyed the exquisite vision of what you often dubbed his ‘sexy ass bow-legged swagger’, but this time, it was when Dean was no longer in sight that a devilish grin broke out across your face.

But really, who could blame you? You’d been a car enthusiast all your life, and classic cars were your weakness. “It’s just you and me now, Baby.” Your fingers glided along the dashboard.

With Sam on the bench due to a broken ankle (courtesy of the werewolf from your last hunt), you and Dean had driven out to Piedmont to take care of this vampire case on your own. So now after two years with the Winchesters, you finally had a chance to explore the front seat of Dean’s Baby, his pride and joy, the glorious, refurbished 1967 Chevy Impala.

When you’d joined forces with the brothers, it was readily agreed upon that you would be better off riding together in the sleek American muscle car, so you ditched your stolen, rusty 2003 Honda Accord and never looked back. Since there was a giant moose to accommodate, you were naturally relegated to the back seat, and rightfully so, but boy, did you miss the thrill of being in the driver’s seat.

You were always a bit of a demon behind the wheel, and it’d been ages since you’d gotten the chance to flex your driving skills. Back when you and Dean first got together, he promised you joyrides (and other recreational activities) in Baby, but the hunting life never seemed to let you get it on.

Sliding across the bench seat, your lungs released a contented sigh as you wrapped your hands around the leather-bound steering wheel. Dean’s bowlegs, however sexy, were not the same length as yours, so you pulled the lever beneath the seat to adjust its position to your liking. Perfect.

You took your time getting to know the ins and outs at the helm of the Impala, though it seemed like none at all had passed when you suddenly heard Dean’s deep voice cry out.

“Y/N!” Your eyes shot up to the rear-view mirror to find an image of the older Winchester running towards the car. “We gotta go!”

Well that’s strange, you thought. Dean never ran – not unless someone, or more often something, was chasing him… Oh shit. Had he somehow woken the vampires? But the sun was still thriving; how much could they retaliate out in the open at this point during the day?

“We gotta get outta here! Now!”

Dean’s voice was much closer now and if you’d learned anything from your experiences hunting with the Winchesters, it was to never doubt your boyfriend’s commands. He was a seasoned pro and possessed instincts like you’d never seen. It’s a good thing you’ve also got some of your own.

Plunging Baby’s key into the ignition, you started the car without hesitation, allowing yourself only a second to relish in the thunderous purr of the engine below you and the incomparable feeling of glee that always sprouted in your chest whenever you were sat at the wheel of a powerful, capable vehicle. Indeed, the adrenaline was already rearing.

As Dean approached the car, you quickly reached over to open the passenger side door for him. “Get in the car!”

“You- Wha-“ Dean stumbled for a split second, so accustomed to taking the driver’s seat. “Y/N, they’re awake and they’ve got bikes – a bunch of Harleys!” he continued to explain, as if that would get you to move out of his designated spot.

“OK, so hurry up!” you yelled again.

Seeing no better option, Dean hastily climbed into the car. Just as he got in, your ears picked up the unmistakable resounding growl of revving motorcycle engines. From the sound of it, they couldn’t be too far off. So when Dean slammed the door shut, your foot came down fast and heavy against Baby’s gas pedal, propelling you forward with an aggressive lurch before you whizzed off, burning rubber and leaving nothing but flying leaves and dust in your wake.

“Jesus!” Dean bellowed; his eyes had grown to about twice their usual size.

You paid him no attention though, too busy reveling in the delightful buzz that vibrated through your body starting from your fingers and toes, where you could feel every unit of Baby’s intoxicating horsepower, and travelling up your limbs until the exhilaration settled deep within your very core.

Stealing a glance at the rear-view mirror, you caught sight of the monster-driven motorcade advancing considerably, so you decided to take the next available turn as an attempt to throw them off. Things were getting truly exciting now.

“Vamps on bikes? Really?! And covered in leather?” you huffed mirthfully with a shake of your head.

But it was Dean’s turn to ignore you. He was clutching at his door tightly, as if afraid your driving might somehow hurl him out of it. In fact, when you took the first corner without warning, Dean just about fell over.

“Woah! Slow down, Toretto!” he shouted in alarm, looking over at you as if you’d grown a second head.

Seeing you’d managed to surprise the vampires with your unexpected maneuver however, a loaded smirk was your only reply.

It took you about twenty minutes to get the vamps off your tail, during which time Dean managed to recover from his initial shock and began instead to absorb your radiant form. The look of exuberance on your face and the utter determination in your bright eyes, mixed with the mischievous tug of your lips, and combined with the all-around liberated and euphoric aura that surrounded you was sexy as hell, not to mention your sheer competence. All of it astounded him and caused his blood to flow to places he could not have foreseen.

You seemed to be completely at one with his esteemed Baby, handling her with perfect control and aptitude, and all the while enjoying yourself so very much. It was something Dean never knew you were capable of, but more so, it was something he never knew he needed.

Dean had always loved how much you loved and appreciated his car, but this made him feel like he was seeing you in a new light; it made him feel like he was falling for you all over again. That devilish glint in your normally kind and virtuous eyes, your ever jubilant and fervent love for life after enduring so much pain and grief, the way you never ceased to amaze and surprise him – it was all gloriously heady and irresistibly addictive. His teeth couldn’t help but pull at his lower lip, emerald eyes glazing over with lust and adoration as he stared over at you in the driver’s seat.

So when you ultimately pulled into an empty clearing, not wanting to lead the vamps straight back to your motel room, Dean was at a loss for words.

“So, a bloodsucking motorcycle gang, huh? Can’t say I’ve seen that before,” you speculated in a cheery, nonchalant tone, feeling perfectly satisfied after your little stunt driving escapade.

Dean, on the other hand, appeared not unlike a fish out of water with his furrowed brows and pouty lips which appeared undecided as to whether they should remain open or closed.

“That was… I just- You-… I don’t even know…” he ran his hands through his hair, pulling the short strands forward roughly, “What just happened?”

You sent him a small, innocent shrug, rather amused at his adorably stuttery response.

“You never told me you could drive like that.”

“You never asked,” you replied truthfully.

“Fuck, Y/N. That was… so… incredibly…”

What? Your curiosity was killing you. Dean’s opinion always mattered to you and at the moment, you could read a myriad of emotions upon his face. He looked stunned and confused, perhaps a bit frightened, but at the same time awed and impressed, and maybe even – were you reading that right? – slightly… aroused?

Dean lowered his voice to answer your unspoken question, “Hot,” he finished emphatically.

You heaved a breathy laugh, “Yeah?”

“Fuck yes! Baby, that was incredible. The way you handled Baby like a fucking pro, the little faces you made when you were living for the thrill of the chase. The skill, the speed, the Tokyo drifting, all of it. Goddamn, you are so sexy when you’re driving my Baby like that.”

“Well that’s a coincidence ‘cause I also happen to find you amazingly sexy when you’re behind this wheel,” you joked lightly, “In fact, I think seeing you drive this car might’ve been part of the reason I fell in love with you.”

“And I think I just fell in love with you all over again,” came Dean’s suave response.

You giggled a bit, but soon sobered when you saw his gorgeous eyes cloud over with wanton desire. One minute you were dwelling in the heavily charged sexual tension that seemed to consume the entire car, watching his gaze wander down to your lips while yours did the same, and in the next your mouths met ferociously as your bodies swooped forwards simultaneously, crashing together in the center of Baby’s front seat.

You moaned into the kiss, your hands finding their way around Dean’s ridiculously broad shoulders and up to his thick neck. When you were forced to come up for air, his lips began to work their way down to your collar bone. “Mmm, god Dean.”

“Seriously baby, that was such a turn on,” he rambled across your skin, “I didn’t even know driving could be so hot.”

Your laughter was really more just an exhalation of air. “Are we finally gonna do it? Are we gonna christen Baby now, thanks to your newfound kink?” you whispered salaciously, your brain already presenting obscene images of the two of you re-enacting something akin to the infamous Titanic scene.

Dean paused for a moment, allowing you to rip off his outer layers with relish before he brought his large hands up to cup your cheeks. “See I wouldn’t call it ‘newfound’,” he started, dazzling forest orbs boring into your soul, “Cause I’m pretty sure it only turns me on when it’s you behind the wheel, and I’ve always had a kink for you.”

You stare at him in disbelief, unable to keep the smile off your face, “You are such a smooth fucker sometimes, Dean Winchester.” And with that, your lips and bodies collided yet again. His strong hands held you impossibly close while yours ran joyously across his expansive chest before travelling down to find the zipper of his jeans.

“Ungh, wait a sec,” you pulled back a little with knitted brows, a playfully incredulous tone taking over your voice, “Did you call me Dominic Toretto earlier?”

“Well, yeah. You were driving like a madman!” Dean exclaimed candidly.

You smirked, “So does that make you Letty Ortiz?”

“Sweetheart, I will gladly be the Letty to your Dom anytime you want… I still can’t believe you just took me on a high-speed car chase, that was fucking awesome! Just wait ‘til Sam hears about this one!”

Laughing as you pulled him back in, you shut him up with your tongue as it invaded his mouth, pausing only to smile against his luscious lips, “Mmm, well maybe he doesn’t have to hear about this next part?”

A/N #2: thank you so much for reading, feedback always appreciated! oh and here’s a look at some new stuff at lexicolor.redbubble.com :)

[softinkshadows]

㊙️Secret facts㊙️, or Things the JJK sorcerers would rather die than tell anyone (*ノ▽ノ)

Headcanons, crack edition, of our favourite sorcerers! (partly in homage to @snk-headcanons)

Some extensive contextual references to both the anime and manga ahead ~

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Itadori Yuuji

Itadori has had a six pack since elementary school. He has also remained at the bottom of his cohort for academic grades since elementary school. Itadori isn’t actually good at cooking; meatballs are his only specialty. His wardrobe only contains hoodies. Itadori really ate his boogers as a kid. Itadori is so bad at reading cursed energy he still can’t tell the difference between a curse and a sorcerer. Nanami once asked him if he considered therapy. Itadori’s favourite mode of transport is Fushiguro’s demon dogs. On some days, Itadori thinks Fushiguro looks better than Jennifer Lawrence. 

Megumi Fushiguro

Fushiguro once tried to pick up smoking in middle school. He gave up because he was irritated at how popular it became amongst his schoolmates when he did. He has a drawer full of un-replied confession letters. Fushiguro can’t sleep without a bolster (he gets touchy in his sleep). Fushiguro cuts his own hair. His go-to drink is strawberry milk. Fushiguro is so unused to smiling he practices in front of his room mirror before giving up. In reality, when he’s genuinely happy his eyelashes grow by 3 centimeters. On some days, Fushiguro admits that Itadori is the person he will always count on to save him.  

Nobara Kugisaki

Nobara likes to dress up in her room and pretend to be a cover girl or fashion model. She once found Inumaki-senpai attractive. But this was probably because he was quiet. Nobara actually got lost in Harajuku station before meeting Itadori and Fushiguro for the first time. Nobara only processes emotions by yelling. Nobara does not feel pain. Ever since arriving in Tokyo, she has been scouted for several television shows. They were all makeover specials. Nobara has a personal grudge against the mirror in Shibuya’s UNIQLO store. She has a private photo folder in her phone dedicated to snaps of city lights, skyscrapers and Maki.  

Inumaki Toge

Inumaki likes to visit convenience stores to look for new onigiri flavours. He assigns expletives to a different flavour every week, and enjoys swearing at others without them realizing. His uniform collar serves a dual purpose of concealment when he sticks his tongue out at people he doesn’t like. Inumaki likes flirting. Inumaki secretly stocks up Yuta-senpai’s favourite snacks just before he returns from missions. Inumaki longs to be kissed (on his beautiful, cursed mouth). He keeps a written diary of things people say to him and and things he would like to say back to them. Inumaki’s favourite verb is “susumu” (keep going). 

Panda

Panda is intrigued by meat, particularly fried chicken, even if they cannot eat it. Panda does not like cooked vegetables. Panda gets PR packages from apparel and household brands with panda designs; they do monthly unboxing videos for over a million subscribers. Panda’s favourite tv shows are Oprah and Japanese crime dramas. Panda reads religious texts on Shintoism in their free time. Panda’s third core is a koala. 

Maki Zenin

Maki once lost her glasses at a party and almost burned down an entire restaurant to look for it. Maki does not like spicy food because it makes her blush. Maki giggles at memes. She has timed crying breaks in the bathroom. Maki secretly names her cursed tools after her favourite celebrities. Maki always buys herself two birthday cake slices. 

Aoi Todo 

Todo drinks protein shakes more often than he would like to admit. He has never won Maki in an arm wrestling match. Todo’s IQ fluctuates between 80 and 155. He has only been part of Takada-chan’s fan club for 6 months. 80% of Todo’s memory is fabricated fantasy. Todo’s teary face has made both children and grown men cry, out of fear. His dream is to open a pancake house. 

Ijichi Kiyotaka

Despite his looks, Ijichi is skilled in Jujitsu and Aikido. He pre-orders extra sets of Itadori’s uniform every month. He has at least 3 Fast and Furious movie posters in his bedroom. He likes to daydream about being part of an A-list sorcerer team with Nanami, with Gojo as his personal chauffeur. Ijichi keeps a treat money jar for every time he feels slighted or overly stressed at work. To date, he has used the jar to visit 3 Michelin-star restaurants. 

Geto Suguru 

Geto developed a sweet tooth after enrolling in Jujutsu High. His first kiss was stolen by Gojo in a supply closet when they were both sixteen (the latter did it for fun). Geto was once dared to shave off all his hair and had to stifle a sob at the thought. Geto’s non-sorcerer disinfectant spray is coincidentally a rose-scented line of luxury cologne called Infinite Love. On a bad day, Geto finds himself indulging in dessert. 

Gojo Satoru

Mostly shameless, Gojo feels the most self-conscious with his eyes uncovered. Gojo gets turned on by an exquisite pair of sunglasses. Gojo doesn’t like drinking alcohol. Gojo once injected sugar into his blood, partly in jest, partly because he was curious. Gojo reads critical theory. Gojo uses SK-II facial treatment essence. Gojo likes reading fanfiction written about him. He keeps a scrapbook for deliberately ugly doodles of Jujutsu society’s higher ups. He is the owner of tabloid news twitter account @jujutsushits. He is also the owner of twitter account @RealNanamiKento. When he has a bad day, Gojo scrolls through old, defunct chats between him and Geto.  

Nanami Kento

Nanami has never suffered from hair loss problems. He earned a university degree after leaving Jujutsu High, where he majored in economics and minored in comparative literature. Nanami freelanced as a poet-writer for 2 months. He is so respectable in jujutsu society that he once sold (more like auctioned) his pair of men’s leather shoes for 500,000 JPY. The buyers were all women. He has a drawer of XXL condoms. He did not buy them (Gojo did). He keeps a slogan t shirt that reads ‘Hot Stuff’. He did not buy it (Haibara did). Nanami is fluent in 5 languages. Nanami’s hobbies are ironing his blue dress shirt and getting into existential crises. Nanami has an excel sheet detailing his weekly expenses titled ‘letsgetthisbread.exe.’ When embarrassed, Nanami is prone to hiccups.

Ryomen Sukuna

Sukuna has a personal list of ‘Top 10 Sukuna Badass Moments’ playing on loop in his head. He sings when Itadori is in the shower to spite him, but mostly because he likes the sound of his own voice. Sukuna has a bad memory, having been alive for more than a thousand years. Sukuna hates contemporary fashion, but has a fascination for Crocs. He prefers jazz to imperial court music. Sukuna delivers lengthy, oftentimes ultraviolent monologues to Itadori when he is bored. He thinks he would make a good university professor. Sukuna is still terrified of motorised vehicles. 

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Notes: writing this was so fun, but some of it made me sad... 

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Taglist (っ˘ω˘ς ) : @encrytpta @wilddreamer98

[ghostbustermelanieking]

i'd like to hear some headcanons for your "georgie can see dead people" au! :0

oh thank you so much!! this is probably going to be a little messy, since i haven't actually started the fic, but!! here is something!! :) (also i am so sorry for all the sixth sense references. the actual fic will undoubtedly be worse.)

1. So the basic premise of this AU is that the end result of Georgie's encounter with the End is that, instead of losing her ability to feel fear, she gains the ability to see the dead. Everything goes the same otherwise: the protest, Alex, the dead woman, Georgie waking up days later at home, the months of strangeness and unfeeling. The difference is that when Georgie wakes up, she can see the dead woman, too. Never too close—only in corners, behind doors, in the window. And never always, but only in the moments that feel crucial. The moments where she's searching for something of herself. Her mother hugs her and she sees the dead woman over her mother's shoulder. 

Georgie sees Alex, too, sometimes. Closer and more head on; she is always looking back. But she never speaks, and neither does the dead woman from the room. It isn't until she begins to see other ghosts that she realizes they can talk, if they want to. If they choose. 

(Six months later is when Georgie figures out how to lock the dead woman out. She stops seeing Alex shortly after, except on occasion. Sometimes she'll see a flash of those familiar eyes in the mirror, over her shoulder, and they always seem to be apologetic. But Alex still never says anything. Georgie gets good at pretending that this doesn't hurt nearly as much as losing her.)

2. Jon is the first one that Georgie almost tells. Almost. They're honest with each other in a way that Georgie usually isn't, when they first meet, and she almost thinks he'd believe her. They talk about ghost stories all the time. 

She mostly thinks about it when she sees Jon's ghosts. It isn't often but she sees them. He'll talk about what little he remembers of his parents, or pull out some old, faded pictures, and she'll see the faces reflected in the kitchen, the bathroom mirror, Jon's bedroom. He never talks about the apparition of a strange teenager that appears, once, when they both wake up sweaty from frantic nightmares and he refuses to explain, and Georgie doesn't press. He doesn't tell her about Mr. Spider and she doesn't tell him about the ghosts. Much as they love each other, they do still have secrets. 

Georgie goes to his grandmother's funeral years later, even though they're barely talking at this point, and almost tells him then. Seeing him stand mostly alone at the grave, looking monumentally alone, and then a flicker of his grandmother behind him—she almost does. But still she doesn't. She's never told anyone before, and she and Jon aren't really in touch, so she just hugs him and tells him she's so sorry, and doesn't meet the eyes of the woman watching behind the fresh grave. 

3. Melanie is another person Georgie almost tells. They still meet through their connections—Ghost Hunt UK, What the Ghost, and Georgie's power is (probably unsurprisingly) very useful for the paranormal podcast business. (All her episodes aren't pulled from real life, from her own experiences—that would be irresponsible, and there's more clout in retelling familiar stories. But sometimes when Georgie runs out of episode ideas, she'll visit a spooky place, write down what she sees, do a deep dive on the history, and fill in the gaps by attributing her sightings to "unnamed" witnesses.) She's met a lot of people in the ghost hunting business, but Melanie stands out, because they hit it off so immediately. Start hanging out outside of work drinks, at parties or pubs or research stints. Melanie starts inviting Georgie to consult on the show, or to collaborate, and Georgie uses what she sees to point Melanie and her team towards real sightings. Why not? Might as well have the horrible power be useful for something. Haley Joel Osment solved his problem by helping people, and this isn't the same at all (and that's a movie, anyways), but it is something. 

So she and Melanie become fast friends, faster than Georgie is used to, and Georgie genuinely thinks about telling her. She trusts her, and she doesn't think Melanie would laugh, or call her a liar. (Melanie's got stories about not being believed, too; it's common in the paranormal business.) She thinks Melanie might be the right person, maybe. Just maybe. 

(She doesn't end up doing it. She's still a coward when it comes to that. But it isn't because she isn't tempted.)

(The idea to tell Melanie comes before she starts seeing Melanie's father. But that fact doesn't help her decision, either. In quiet moments with Melanie, Georgie starts seeing the man in Melanie's framed photos in the shadows, looking at Melanie with sad eyes, calling her little moth. But Melanie can still barely talk about her dad, and the accident, and it feels even more wrong after he starts showing up, to tell her. Georgie worries Melanie might think she's making fun, or making something up to make her feel better, and she doesn't see this going well.

Instead she says, sometimes, I know your dad loved you a lot. Melanie says, Yeah, I know, too. Georgie says, And I bet he misses you, even though it isn't a bet; she knows. But she can't tell Melanie, and that's as far as it can go.) 

4. The most significant time Georgie wants to tell Melanie, but doesn't, is the one she'll end up regretting the most in the end. When Melanie gets out of the hospital, first, and then when she comes back from India; when Georgie is basically the only friend Melanie has left from her old life, and therefore is probably the person Melanie goes to the most. The person Melanie confides in. 

So Georgie is there to see it all. She'll be sitting across from Melanie in a pub, or beside her on the couch; she'll brush Melanie's hand with hers, or their knees will knock together, and Georgie will see flashes of blood, violence. Hear screaming. She'll see haunted faces out of the corner of her eyes: soldiers, doctors. Muzzles of guns. Once, a stained hand gripping Melanie around the leg. 

She'll regret it, later, but Georgie doesn't say anything; she doesn't know what to say. She's never seen anything like this, even with over a decade of seeing ghosts. How is she supposed to explain it? She doesn't really know what it means. Melanie talks about war ghosts, and Georgie listens, and she rationalizes that Melanie will have to be okay. (She was okay, when it was her, and if—if this is something serious, something worse, than… then Georgie will be there. Melanie will have someone who understands.) 

5. One night in February of 2018, Jon shows up back in Georgie's life, looking shell-shocked on her doorstep. He stands in the hall looking mildly terrified, when Georgie opens the door, and behind him stands a dead woman, looking desperate and furious all at once. 

"Georgie," Jon says weakly. "I-I know it's been a while, but…" 

"Jon! Christ, what happened to you? Are you all right?" Georgie says, trying to take in Jon and the dead woman all at once. (She is new—Jon must have had someone else close to him die.) She focuses on Jon, puts a hand on his shoulder. "Are you hurt?"

"I… I'm fine." Jon's hands twist in front of him. "I… didn't know where else to go."

Georgie swallows hard and says, "Are you in trouble?" The dead woman is looking right at her. Georgie keeps looking at Jon. 

"I… yes." Jon chews on his lower lip. "If… I know it's a lot to ask, b-but I… could I… possibly stay here for a little while?"

Georgie swallows hard. She has a dozen questions—what's happened, why he needs somewhere to stay, why he looks like this—he looks like he's been through emotional turmoil, through hell—and worse, why a dead woman has followed him here. But she doesn't know how to ask these questions. And she can't just turn him away. Jon helped her heal during one of the worst periods of her life, even if he doesn't know it. And she can do the same. 

"Yeah," Georgie says, and leans forward to pull Jon into a hug—tentative at first, and then stronger, when Jon latches on like he needs it. "Y-yeah, Jon, of course."

Jon rambles out a frantic thank you, layered in with apologies and copious promises to pay rent, but it becomes harder to listen. Right over Jon's shoulder, the dead woman is staring right at her, her mouth hanging open. She's got long hair and glasses, and she looks exhausted, and it isn't immediately obvious how she has died, which is unusual. And she's looking right at Georgie. She says, suddenly, "Can you—can you see me?"

It isn't the first time a ghost has spoken to her, but it's a rare enough occasion to be shocking. Her throat is thick with surprise, and she can't say anything in front of Jon, so she just sort of imperceptibly nods. Holds the dead woman's gaze for a moment. 

"Fuck," says the dead woman. "Thank—thank god, thank Christ, I…" She pauses and looks at Jon, then back at Georgie, still numbly hugging Jon there in the hall. "My name is Sasha," she says, and Georgie thinks of the scene in The Sixth Sense where the sick little girl under the blanket asks for help. "Can you… can you help me?"

(send me an au and i'll give you 5+ headcanons)