#faking a british accent talking shit about so many people

[inlocusmads]

chosen family ~ trystan thorne

One does not simply ask their friends how to go about a drastic career change. Unfortunately, Trystan doesn't receive the memo. (Pre-Crimes of Passion)

wc: 3k, teen+, strong language

a/n: Written for @choicesjanuary2024, prompt for day 27: "Explore a character’s path to enlightenment as they embark on a journey toward self-discovery and understanding."

banner credits: jack forrest on behance

2016

“Dude, I am telling you, Todd’s gonna blow his audition, he’ll come back whining and take up the job. You’re just going to have to give him some time to know he’s a shit actor.”

Trystan laughed, wiping off the crumbs from the corner of his mouth.  “That is so mean, man.”

Monty shrugged, handing him a straw for his soda. “See? Even the prince agrees.”

“Nah, I don’t believe it.” Lee said, hunching over the kitchen counter, while he waited for the oven to finish baking the bread. “The market’s pretty soft for anybody with brown hair.”

“That’s weirdly specific. What market have you been watching?”

“No, dude, like -- you know the other day, they had a casting call poster and they were handing that stuff out to the people in the ice cream shop. It’s like this - y’know how there’s this -- huge requirement for uh, reality show models and stuff - how news companies don’t hire people who aren’t blonde, shit like that. Brunette is the new blonde these days, y’know? And god bless if you’re a natural one at that.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“All I’m saying is, Todd’s got a good chance. As equal as those freaks from drama schools.”

“You think I have a shot, Lee?” Trystan asked, toying with his can of soda. 

“Man, you’re already famous. It’s like asking one of the Kardashians to star in a fingernail commercial.”

“Nail polish.”

“No, I’m pretty sure they can sell fingernails.” Monty put on his best Valley accent. “I have been using Freddy’s Fingernails like, for as long as I can like, even remember.”

“Todd does impressions the best.” Lee informed Trystan.

“Jeez, go marry him or something.”

“I don’t think I want to be an actor.” Trystan shrugged. “Where would I start?”

“Playing mafia roles. They’re definitely looking for someone with a Russian accent these days. Or Italian. Italian’s pretty hot too.” Monty said, as he wiped the edges of the counter. “I have seen so many kids sitting at those very tables memorizing lines for advertisements. Ads are pretty wacky too, man. Anyway, it’s about fake it till you make it. I had one of my good friends, Dee who had a pretty short lived modeling career and was suggested to do some voice-acting because he had this uber-fake British accent. Dude actually spent three whole days on Youtube trying to learn a British accent and fooled the casting panel into thinking he was actually some dude from England.”

“I hope he succeeded.”

“Nah they didn’t take him after they learned he lied. Rookie mistake, you know? Trystan, my good friend, if you’re ever applying for a job, forge your birth certificates. Always.”

“Will do.” Trystan threw a two-finger salute his way. “Or you know - I could actually get a job here.”

“Pfft-”

“I am actually good at chopping.”

“With what? Gold knives with a flute of wine and cheese by your side, in case you get hungry?” Monty scoffed.

“I will pay you two hundred dollars.”

“To hire you?”

“Think about the publicity.”

“Okay, okay-” Lee interjected. “This is not some hobby, dude. Sandwich-making is an art form. People don’t come in here for just the thin slices of toasted bread, cuts of deli meat, special Himalayan chili sauce with a side of fries. No, they come in here for the experience. You’ve never seen something quite revolutionary like this. Yo-- wait, I’ll write this down.”

“Two hundred dollars everyday.”

“We will think about it.” Lee said.

“Nah, no - what if some economic shit happens again? Like you know the uh, dollar to whatever-currency-you-guys-operate-back-in-Palacetopia?”

“Drakovia, but go on.”

“Inflation. Economic crash. Wall Street babaganoush.”

“Did you not tell me you minored in economics?” 

“The point is, princey, the answer’s no. What if the money’s uh -- worthless or something, in like a hundred years?” Monty shrugged, as he grabbed a potato and peeled it. It was a new recipe under reception. Stuffed potato, baked and served with condiments around it and on top. A revolutionary alternative to salads, bowls and just about any starchy sandwich. Trystan watched with boredom as Lee tried to explain economics to him - occasionally pausing to express his disappointment (“How do you even pay rent with that knowledge?”) and encouraging Trystan’s offer. 

It was his favorite restaurant anyway - Paul’s was as welcoming as a grandmother who’d be tired of everyone’s bullshit and would much rather have you not knock at her door. Monty and Lee became fast friends; they didn’t mind Trystan being a celebrity or anything, considering Monty said he’d seen George Lucas near a coffee shop once and almost rented a place next to a diner that was frequented by Lady Gaga. Although those claims were widely disputed, Trystan didn’t mind this refreshing inattention for once. 

Sure, he was in the press a couple hundred times and charged with murder at the age of 22, but hey, Lee had done some wild shenanigans too. Such as cutting in line and smacking a person across their cheek, getting into table fights in the pub and spending a night in the local jail. Everything went on as usual, anyway, at least at Paul’s. There could be a national emergency that very second and they’d still be selling sandwiches and complaining about their landlords. A storm, a tsunami, a full blown out nuclear war and they’d be flipping coins over who gets put on bathroom duty. 

“I think I may have run into a technical problem. If I’m going to be stuffing a whole-ass potato in a sandwich, I might have to cut it up.”

“Hand it over.” Trystan insisted, wiping the crumbs on his jacket. 

“All right. Don’t mess up your pretty hands though.”

Lee punched Monty at the shoulder, hissing, “What are you doing?”

“He wanted chopping duty so I gave him chopping duty.”

“Contrary to popular beliefs, Lee, cooking is a basic human skill, like say learning to write or read-” Trystan set the peeled potato and aimed his knife at an angle. He cut across thin vertical slices - the shape of fries - optimal for a sub and across its breadth to make it more bite-sized. 

“I thought all you guys did in Drakovia was dressing up as vampires, doing a bunch of skull rituals and be all -- creepy and shit.”

“Oh yeah we do all of that.”

“Really?”

“He’s making fun of you, Monty.” Lee shook his head. 

“Drink pig’s blood-- dress like erm-- what is that store in America which sells all of those creepy, ghoulish things? Hot Topic, ah yes. They sponsored my kicking-out ceremony, by the way. We all drank the juice of giraffe’s tentacles - our expert DNA scientists managed to fuse a giraffe with an octopus - and ceremonially chopped off my head before gluing it back again. Seriously, Monty, I would expect better from an economics graduate. I can chop a potato. In fact -- there is this really beautiful dish from home that incorporates all of these things. Wait, let me remember it-”

“Not to burst your bubble, Your Highness, but we can’t really afford putting up a whole extra fusion cuisine on the menu.”

“Why not?”

“There’s dedicated restaurants for that stuff that ordinary chumps like us can’t compete with.”

“You could try something. It is not like you are getting anywhere with this --” he pointed nonchalantly at the one singular menu card they had for the whole place. “Here is a thought - why don’t I come up with nice, easy recipes? Something to draw in some crowd, you know?”

“The people who dine here aren’t exactly SoHo-rich, Trys.”

“Yeah, we’re lucky if we can keep the cops from the local precinct coming in. That’s why our egg sandwiches sell so well on Mondays. We can’t afford to topple up the menu entirely, ‘cuz it’s like uh-- it’s like we model what we serve after what sells well. More like a ‘Dish of the Day’ type thing, y’know? Demand’s pretty less. People just want to eat the same thing over and over again, yeah?”

“You could try introducing a bit of variety in this subtle, nuanced way whilst keeping the familiarity of the dish intact.”

“We aren’t trying to feed dogs their multivitamins, bruv. To hide asparagus and shit in like -- I dunno, eggs or something. But you know what? We’ll give you a shot.” Monty decided on his own, which should greatly piss off Lee but he didn’t seem that bothered with hiring Trystan as an intern recipe-developer. “If you can come up with something that’s quick to make, cheap and can sell like crack, we’ll take it.”

“Or I could just give you the money.”

“As if Monty’s going to make things that easy for you.” Lee shook his head. 

“Nah, nah, no, we aren’t accepting donations. This isn’t a charity. This is a goddamn restaurant with self-respect and shit -- oh damn, those are some neat potatoes. I'll take it all back. You’ve got some sick skills.”

“Why don’t you come on over and help us out with the bell peppers tomorrow?”

“I dunno - I might have a thing after this other thing-”

“You can pay us.”

“Gentlemen, you have a deal.”

“Some of us would kill to get some rest and look at this guy, eager to work and stuff. Is this a Communism thing?” Monty poked at the potatoes, before moving onto clearing up a pan and mounting it on the stove.

“Jesus Christ, Monty. Do me a favor and stop talking.” Lee scowled.

“You know, it is not exactly a bad question--” Trystan said, as he took his plate up to the sink behind the counter to give it a thorough wash. “I have thought about work, you know? All this time, it has just been this rat-race to get me to coronation day, but I have never really had this normal life where I could just do things at my pace with control of the quality of its outcomes. Might be a pretentious way of saying I am yet to have my Little Mermaid moment, with the whole growing legs and exploring the world quest, but yes, I think my idea of reflection and rest- or at least, some of my best ideas come from not lounging around and throwing a ball at the wall.”

“Get a cat and a laser-pointer. You’d never be bored. Also, dude, this is like the bottom-barrel of all jobs. You could totally be some actor guy.”

“I bleached my hair recently.”

“And a hack job at that.” Lee got on his tiptoes. “Looks like some guy vomited all over your head. But Monty’s not wrong. You’d be a shit actor without any formal training - or so the industry makes you think experience is everything.”

“That’s all the industries, Lee.”

“The point is, you could still look for something. Tons of people are famous for just being famous.”

“No, no-” Trystan shook his head. “I am not Paris Hilton’ing my way out of this. What do you think about writing?”

“Easier to have people write about you and get everything wrong than to have you write all the right things and not have people read it.” Monty shrugged. When he heard silence, he looked up from the pan of oil burning the fingers of potatoes and shrugged, again - “Read somewhere in a magazine or something, I don’t know. I mean -- isn’t that what they do, anyway? The tabloids?”

“Yeah, you lost me there, bud.” Lee shut him up quickly, shaken that his friend could say something so profound and controversial and not ruin it with a sarcastic joke. “Art historians get paid by the dozen, I heard.”

“I do have interest in art and history, but not so keen to make a career out of it. Maybe I should do something really ridiculous and run a circus. Embrace the clownery. Be the best buffoon I can be.”

“What’s with you two pulling off this existential shit?” Lee grumbled, as he took out the pizza from the oven to take home. 

“Something was in the sandwich I ate.”

“Pepper, salt, spice mix and dread.” Monty howled from the other side of the kitchen.

“I love me some good old dread!”

“My man’s one of us now!” he chuckled, walking up to them. “Yo, you should do the funniest possible thing and --” the snark from his tone faded into something serious - “- do community college. Seriously. Everyone expects some guy dressed in Barney gear in their language arts class, but nobody -- nobody expects a former crown prince to walk up with a number two pencil to figure out their career. Not too late to get into law school too. Funniest possible thing you can ever do, you know? Uh -- bonus if you get one of those really specific t-shirts.”

“That is not entirely a bad idea.”

“You could do politics and stuff man.” Lee suggested. 

“I have always been more of an Introduction To Pokemon and Subsequent Analysis of Its Impact 101 kind of guy.”

“Lee, stop ruining his career choices.” Monty elbowed his friend’s arm. “You are doing something right, princey.”

“I know, Pikachu is clearly the -- erm-- baton-holder for the next generation. A true inspiring idol for all of us.” Trystan agreed, as he took his seat on the high stool- watching Lee and Monty finish up their pre-requisites for the night to prepare for a busy tomorrow. “I have no idea who Pikachu is, by the way. Would it be possible to start a Youtube channel?”

“Breaking my silence on the coronation- not clickbait.”

“It’s a little too ambitious. Let’s start small.”

“You literally wanted me to send out an application for drama school not two minutes ago. I kept count, Lee. Not the minutes, but -- you get the idea.”

“I never said that, but you definitely should send out an application. Who knows? There might be a call for some dude who fucked up his hair with boxed bleach and like, the production could take a while - just enough time for your roots to grow back.”

“Get frosted tips and a Food Network show. Boom. Profit.” Monty punctuated his words by stabbing a spatula at the air with every passing syllable.

“Or--” Lee leaned against the counter, folded arms as if he were sitting his son, Trystan down for a birds-and-the-bees lecture. “You could really do something impactful. Right the wrongs, you know? With your influence and wealth, you could actually rectify a lot of flawed systems. You needn’t get into politics, but instead try and offer help to people who say, have been let down by the law enforcement. I know you’ve had tricky run-ins with them in the past and it goes to show how the whole -- conceptual conception-- words, words, words here, deserves a voice of reason. And not a lot of people can afford to do that. You can. Or at least, you can try.”

“Hold your horses, Mr President.” Monty paused. “What do you want to do, Trystan?”

“I dunno. The cat and laser pointer thing sounds really fun. Definitely helps me get off all the hit lists.”

“You’re on hit lists? Sweet. Also, yes, super fun. Orange tabbies - best rascals ever. I think the pet center nearby has some dudes up for adoption. Dogs and frisbees too - best. Get a German Shepherd and they’ll fuck up any one who dares to breathe near you within a two-foot radius.”

“Great, all sorted then.”

“I did not expect this conversation to go this way.” Lee threw a towel over his shoulder.

“Heck nah, nobody wants to get their brain fried trying to move up a ladder with missing steps. You know the rung you’re on and you know that exists. Nothing good comes out of skipping a rung and plummeting to your certain death.”

“Clearly we all have experiences of trying to move up and fucking it up-- What? I am not allowed to swear?”

Lee blinked like a deer staring wide-eyed at the headlights of a speeding truck. Monty gave him a toothy grin of approval. “You know what you’ve always wanted. Sneaky bastard.”

“Chopping is very relaxing, by the way.” Trystan offered them a knowing smirk, full of hopeful expectations. “So much can be done with just six precise cuts.”

“You’re persistent. Fine. You may contribute.”

“But this is no shiny-new-toy of the month, yeah?” Lee raised his knife midst sharpening it across a board. “You do this and show your commitment and sheer will and not just because-- apparently cutting these days, is the new purchasing-Dolce-and-Gabbana.”

“Oh man, we’re going to have so much fun.” Monty gave Trystan a fist-bump who returned it with a bit of confusion as to whether it was a high-five or not. “I mean, pissing off Lee is the only requirement.”

“I can kick you out, Monty. I’m already covering your portion of the rent for three months in a row.”

“He’s just jealous I have a new friend-- you’re just jealous!” Monty called out, to which Lee responded with a stabbing motion, as he disappeared far into the kitchen. “Yeah, totally jealous. Anyway, 9AM sharp, princey. Just because you’re exiled and your family hates you, there’s no exception. I mean, my family hates me and I’m still on the S Train by 7. Also, no Chardonnay bottles. Wear comfortable shoes. Get a hairnet. More instructions will follow. Also, this is like -- an interning thing- plus, we’re broke and we’d gladly take any free help, so you know. No pay, but we’ll cover drinks should there be a free Saturday that the Gods of Pardon-These-Clowns might grant.”

“Cannot wait to get started, man. When do the busboys get informed of a new addition to the Paul’s family? Or should we introduce ourselves?”

Monty glared at him.

“I am kidding! Kidding! So that is definitely a no on the gloves, right?”

“You are the suckiest, most pretentious guy I have ever met and thought about hiring. You’re a perfect fit for the job."

***

A/N: I HC Trystan made a lot of old friends in his exile period but at present doesn't talk to them as often as he should. I'd expect Monty to eventually quit being a cook and have enough funds to support himself through a certification course or some kind of education and Lee to maybe save up money to actually, professionally go through culinary school and get to work with top chefs. Todd's well, he's trying lol. He'll keep trying to become the next big star or something.

I hope to include more of Lee and Monty in any post-exile, pre-canon fics I write, which is pretty great because coming up with new characters has become a crippling addiction lmao.

Thank you so much for reading!

Tagging:

perma: @quixoticdreamer16 @tessa-liam @stars-are-within-me

crimes: @trappedinfanfiction @ao719 @cassie-thorne @peonierose @moominofthevalley @jerzwriter

#crimes of passion #crimes of passion fics #w:inlocusmads #trystan thorne x mc #trystan thorne #choices january challenge

[alsjeblieft-zeg]

236 of 2023

1. Hey! Enough with that bad self-talk! Tell me something you like about your body.

Eyes. Threre’s not much more to say.

2. Rap music: Yay or Nay?

Big yay.

3. Whoever invented post-it notes was a genius, right?

He’s not the only one, though.

4. Does the price of gas outrage you?

In current times, yeah.

5. Please tell me you know the difference between there, they’re, and their!

Of course. English is not my native language and maybe that’s why. I’ve noticed many Americand-s can’t even write in English properly.

6. Are you obsessed with cleaning?

Not obsessed,; but adult enough to realise when it’s needed.

7. Where do you keep your shoes?

On a shoe rack in the hallway.

8. What do you think of dating websites?

To each their own, it’s not for me. I don’t need it anyway.

9. Are YOU smarter than a 5th grader?

Well, I have a university degree, so.

10. Don’t you think its funny how people will wear those AC / DC shirts but when you mention one of their songs, they go, “What??“

I find it stupid. How fake can you ever get?

11. What’s the strangest thing a complete random stranger has ever done to you?

Asking why I pretend to be in a relationship when I’m actually single and he can see it (I was engaged then), trying to get into my house (you don’t do that in my country), or touching me without my permission. No Belgian would do that. They were only foreign tourists.

12. When you said something naughty when you were little, did your parents wash out your tongue with soap?

WTF? Do people really do such things??

13. What do you think of spanking little children when they do something wrong? Okay or not?

NO. It’s never okay to beat a child.

14. Y'all got a southern accent?

I’m not an English speaker. I speak Dutch with West-Flemish accent.

15. How do you pronounce the name Sean when you come across it in text… "Shawn” “Sheen” or “Shane”?

Isn’t it all the same name? Ask about something from my language.

16. Is it true that British accents are overrated?

How can something natural to some people be overrated? Only an idiot would ask such questions.

17. How does it make you feel that most American families are failing?

I don’t give a shit. I care much more about the European matters.

18. When you get married, are you gonna stick out with your husband or get a divorce on the first argument that comes your way?

...how old are you, 12?

19. Did you know that in Japan they have sushi flavored ice cream!?

Oh wow. Tell me something I don’t know.

20. Have you ever wondered if dogs think their thoughts in barks?

Yeah, and cats in meows.

#survey #q&a survey #random survey

[the-chosen-none]

An appreciation post for some underrated Fallout 1 characters...

1. Loxley from the Thieves’ Circle!

Possibly a controversial choice so I’m putting him first. He’s tucked away in a little corner of the Hub so a lot of you might not know who he even is, basically he’s like if an Elder Scrolls character got teleported to the Fallout universe by accident and he set up his own knockoff Thieves’ Guild.

I know many people including the devs themselves don’t like him for clashing with the more grounded tone of the rest of the game, but I don’t know man I think he’s funny. The idea that in the middle of this post-apocalyptic landscape there’s this random guy LARPing as Robin Hood is hilarious to me, and one of the devs confirming that his British accent is totally fake makes him even better. He’s trying so hard to look cool. What a dork! I wish there were more than one quest with him.

2. Laura from the Followers of the Apocalypse!

She doesn’t have much to do so there’s not much to say about her, I just think she’s neat. A lot of her charm comes from the line delivery of her voice actress, Kath Souchie, first she starts off with a saccharine tone when she’s in spy mode and then when she drops the act she’s just so done with everyone’s shit. Laura seems like she’d be a cool person to hang out with.

3. Cabbot from the Brotherhood of Steel!!

He looks a little sinister cause his eyes are perpetually shadowed but he’s actually pretty sweet. Sure, he doesn’t tell you about how dangerous the Glow quest is but he’s just so darn polite when he talks to you that you don’t even care. My hc is that Cabbot hoped nobody would be stupid enough to actually try it. 

He’s especially cute whenever he talks about how he’s studying to become a Scribe (which you mostly have to find out with the Tell-Me-About), you get the feeling that this big guy isn’t really comfortable in the power armor and he’d rather be studying. How many players joined the Brotherhood just so they could talk to him some more, I wonder?

4. Razor from the Blades!

(She’s the one in the leather jacket in the first pic, I know it’s really small)

Anyway, she’s definitely my favorite non-talking head NPC, although the concept art to the right seems to suggest she was supposed to get one but since the devs were running out of time towards the end they couldn’t implement as many talking heads as they wanted. It’s too bad, I would have loved to hear Razor’s pure rage voice-acted.

Her similar character design to Nicole in the concept art and the commonalities between their roles make me wonder if she was supposed to be seen as a darker counterpart to Nicole. They’re both the leaders of groups in parts of Los Angeles who get dunked on repeatedly by pretty much everyone else around them, but despite their hardships they still have hope of helping the people around them... except they have COMPLETELY different ways of accomplishing their goals.

Although Nicole and the Followers will defend themselves if necessary and will have a few of them help you storm the Cathedral if you ask, for the most part they’re all about peace and spreading knowledge; Razor, on the other hand, will lead the Blades (and Gun Runners) to ANNIHILATE the Regulators in Adytum to free the people under their control and get their revenge, if you help, that is.

I may be looking too deep into things and maybe Nicole and Razor aren’t supposed to be seen as mirror images, since I don’t think they even mention each other, but it’s something I noticed.

I may do another one of these for Fallout 2 characters eventually, but I haven’t explored as much of it through multiple playthroughs yet since it’s so much bigger, so that’ll have to be for a different time.

#fallout #fallout 1 #classic fallout #fallout analysis

[1025cherrystreet]

funeral

y/n attends a funeral and feels hopeless after losing her best friend until she meets her late bsf's cousin Harry.

a/n: this is for @harrystylescherry​ Playlist Fic Challenge!!! this is inspired by the song Funeral by Phoebe Bridgers. i used the name Phoebe in the story but i wasn't picturing Phoebe Bridgers when I was writing that character, i just liked the name and decided to go with it! but, y'all can picture her however y'all like lol. i went from loving this story to hating it, but i hope y'all like it! any feedback is appreciated!! <3

**despite it being surrounded by depressing matters, it's actually a cute and fluffy story lol! just wanted to point that out because i, myself, kinda avoid reading sad stories

warnings: a LOT of talk about death and dying and funerals, mentions depression/depressive episode?, mentions drugs and alcohol, swearing. i'm ceo of rushing the ending, soz <3 (also, gave up on proofreading lmao)

word count: 8k+ (this is the longest piece i've ever written lol)

Y/N has this dream. Where she's screaming underwater while her friends are waving at her from the shore. She's desperately calling for them, hoping and waiting for them to help, but, seemingly, her friends can't hear... and can't help. Submerged beneath the thrashing waters, her wails fall silent; her familiars deaf to her pleads. The more she struggles to get to the surface for air, the deeper she sinks. Her friends just waving at her as she drifts to the bottom. Every time she jolts awake from these dreams in a sweat stained bed and sticky clothes, she decides to brush it off. Not wanting to think about the problems she needs to face or what she needs to work on. Always concluding that she doesn't need anyone to tell her what it means or overanalyze her life through misplaced visions. Deciding to not believe assumptions made from vague, painful pictures.

As the familiar sinking feeling in her chest starts yet again, Y/N snaps her eyes up at the casket as the sound of her best friend's mother releasing a heart wrenching sob catches her focus.

The contrast of the white roses that lay on top of Phoebe's mahogany stained casket almost glow in the evening light, seeming like a mock to such a somber evening. The way the living looks so effervescent and bright, casting shadows on the less fortunate. The dead never celebrated in such light but rather mourned in dim grief and sadness.

Y/N doesn't like funerals, and not just because her best friend of 10 years is the recipient of this one. She's never cared for them. Believing they're just an excuse to get over the one they are to be honoring, they carry a stigma that everyone in attendance has to cry or you're seen as heartless, while the people who were never close to the deceased are presumed fake for showing emotion. Y/N thinks they're a big joke... with a cruel, cruel punchline.

The sound of despondent music playing and cries ring throughout the cemetery as Phoebe's casket is lowered six feet into the ground. The unchecked emotions start to boil inside of Y/N. Anger boiling deep inside of her quickly reaching its point, anger that stems from betrayal, that stems from hurt, that stems from...loss. She quietly scoffs, shaking her head with a stone cold look, before quickly getting up and walking away from the ceremony as her late friend's uncle, Bill, wraps up his poor excuse of a eulogy.

Phoebe wouldn't have wanted this. She wouldn't have wanted people to cry over her casket, stuck laying in a padded box while people who don't even know the real her, speak of her existence like they were the best of friends. They weren't. She was. Y/N was her best friend. These people don't... didn't know her like Y/N does. It's all bullshit.

In Y/N's quick pace away from the tent around the damp open ground, she spots a bigger gravestone with a stone bench built into it and takes a seat.

She inhales deeply, taking a moment to herself to look up at the sky. The clouds that overcast part of the blue sky drifting farther away from the graveyard as the sun starts making its way to set. She breathes in, the delightful scent of honeysuckle and dewy grass filling her nose before it's tainted by fumes of petrol from the road just on the other side of the cemetery gates behind her. It's so unfair; why of all people did Phoebe have to-

"It's all a joke," A deep accent says to her left.

She almost jumps out of her seat when she turns to the man who took the empty spot next to her. Jesus Christ, where the fuck did he come from? she thinks to herself. He had brown curly hair and green eyes (well, thinking green from what she can gather staring at the side of his face), wearing a black suit with a black button up shirt underneath. Rings clad his fingers and the sunset gleam shines off his cross necklace. She stares wide-eyed at him for a few moments before shaking her head to get out of her daze.

"Huh?" She says when she realizes he had spoken before.

"It's all a big joke," He repeats himself, the British accent more noticeable this time around. His head faced towards the funeral, having not spared a glance at her once this whole time.

She settles back into her seat, shifting her gaze to match his with the group of mourning people in the distance.

"Yeah." Y/N sighs in agreement.

The two of them sit in silence for a moment before Y/N decides to speak. Thinking to herself that if anyone would listen to her thoughts, a man who's also ditching the shitty eulogy would be her best bet.

"They all talk about her as if she was God." She chuckles humorlessly.

He scoffs with a small smirk, "Far from it."

Another wave of silence crashes over them, before Y/N breaks it once again.

"She would've hated this," She whispers, "People she barely even knows crying over her like they had any significance in her life. She probably only talked to five people here. She didn't even like her uncle." She laughs, referencing the man who gave the half-assed eulogy about how Phoebe being such an innocent, bright young girl.

"They're grieving her loss instead of celebrating her life, it's all fucked," He clears his throat before continuing, "Funerals are for the living."

"I hate funerals..." She says in reply.

Glancing at the boy beside her when she hears him digging through his jacket pocket, pulling out a flask.  He takes a sip, and another, before gesturing it to her. Not overthinking it too much, she takes the cool metal bottle and takes a big gulp. Tasting the burn of vodka in her throat and mint from what she supposes is the mysterious strangers mouth.

Handing the flask back she says, "She would've wanted a party. Something where everyone was having fun in her honor, not some substandard funeral full of random people and careless words."

This time he's the one who chuckles humorlessly, "Yeah, she would've wanted everyone t'take shots and dress up in fancy clothes n' wreak havoc on this fucking town,"

Y/N smiles at this because Phoebe really would. Phoebe was the type of person who everyone wanted to be friends with, but also who everyone was scared of. She was mysterious and intimidating (a bit like the man next to her, Y/N thinks). Phoebe was a master at persuasion and could get almost anyone to go on crazy fucking adventures with her. One of Y/N's favorite memories with Phoebe was when they dressed up in wedding dresses they had gotten from a second-hand store and walked down the street yelling random things at strangers, taking turns drinking tequila from a metal water bottle.

"She really was something else, huh?" Y/N says a bit somberly, reminiscing on her late best friend.

"Definitely, a know-it-all," He laughs, bringing the flask up to his mouth.

"Oh, of course, she always thought she was right." She smirks.

"I mean, most of the time she was." He shrugs.  

"Yeah, how did she always know everything?" The two of you laugh, taking turns drinking from the flask.

He shakes his head in disbelief, silence settling over the pair again.

"How did you know her?" He asks, still staring at the gathering of people in the distance.

"...She was my best friend," Y/N responds quietly, still staring out at the sunset.

He hums in return, "You?" She asks as she hands the flask over.

"Her cousin." His rough voice speaks out.

"You're Harry?" She says, less as a question and more in disbelief. Phoebe always mentioned her cousin Harry from England, always telling Y/N of stories they had together getting into reckless shit.

She turns her head to look at him just as he does, "And you're Y/N."

He offers a soft, knowing smile, both having heard countless stories of one another from Phoebe. He leans back and extends his arm on the top of the bench behind her, feeling the warmth of his body radiate off of him.

"I wonder what she'd say to me now. Sitting on a random gravestone in our hometown, drinking out of her cousin's flask, ditching what's supposed to be her remembrance." Y/N says, leaning back on the bench too.

"She would've said, 'quit y'crying, it's a sign of the times' and then would drag your arse t'the nearest pub." He laughs.

She joins in on the soft laughter, shaking her head because she knows that's exactly what she would've said. Phoebe was such a joy to be around, her presence unmatched.

"You know, she always talked about wanting to leave a legacy behind. Most of the time, I just laughed at her, thinking it was just another bizarre thing to come out of her mouth. But, she was always saying she wanted to be remembered as some enigma when she dies..." Y/N recalls the many memories of her and Phoebe staying up til 4am talking. Chills suddenly covering her body, not only from the cool Winter air but because of how Phoebe had talked about her death and now she's actually...dead.

She turns her head to look at Harry and he has a bittersweet smile on his face.

"I think she's accomplished that quite well, hasn't she?" He replies.

"How?" She questions softly with furrowed brows.

"Well, f'starters, her funeral is full of people who never even knew her, or frankly even cared about her, while two emotionless people just got up and stormed away from it t'drink vodka out of a flask on some random person's gravestone." He laughs before tacking on, "Trust me, the people over there are wondering who the hell she was and who she knew, right about now."

She turns her head from the (quite pretty, she thinks) boy to her left, looking at the wake, only to be met with a few people staring back at them.

"Well, I'll be damned," She scoffs. "Of course, the bitch did it." A smile bright on her face, probably the only real grin she's pulled since Phoebe's passing. Her best friends wishes coming true makes her heart warm just a tad, a relief to how cold losing her best friend made it.

"Always able t'make her life seem like an episode of Pretty Little Liars." He says shaking his head with a knowing smirk.

This comment makes Y/N laugh quite loudly, drawing a few — what she could only think were glares — back at her. Wiping a stray tear from her face that fell due to her laughing. The sweet sound coming from her lips only tacking on Harry to join her.

"Oh my god, she practically lived in an indie movie, always the role of the mysterious main character!" She chuckled out, creases forming at the corners of her eyes that Harry has taken a liking to.

As both of their laughter slowly dies out, another silence comes over them; only this time it's almost deafening. It's like the weight of the matter finally settled in.

Harry lets out a deep sigh, staring out at the never ending field of stone. Flowers accompany very few of the many graves; some wilted, some looking fresh, some long gone by now. Name placards littering the ground, all of these lost and forgotten people just decomposing underneath them. People coming and going to visit, only to be forgotten as time goes by, memories fading from their loved ones' mind. He wonders if he could ever forget Phoebe. No, I could never, he thinks to himself. He could never forget the only person that ever truly believed in him and embraced him for being himself.

Deciding he doesn't want to give anymore thought to the painful insight that one day he might forget Phoebe, he asks Y/N something instead.

"Y'wanna get out of here? M'starvin'."

The quiet girl next to him looks his way, his green eyes meeting her's that shine in the last few minutes of orange sunlight. Her eyes are so pretty, he tries to mentally shake that thought out of his head. He can't be hitting on his late cousin's best friend at her funeral, for fuck's sake.

Y/N only nods in response, gathering her bag and phone before standing from the bench. Harry towers over her when he gets up and the observation of how tall her his makes Y/N feel all giddy inside for some reason. Placing the flask back in his suit jacket pocket, he leads the way to a small restaurant nearby. She walks beside him the whole way there, the two of them just quietly observing everything around them.

***

The crisp, cool air passes through, goosebumps creeping up their arms as they sit in the outside seating of a small restaurant. Comfortable silence wraps them up and spits them out as their minds explore all the vast depths of their troubled minds, giving them time for their treacherous thoughts to eat at their sanity bit by bit.

"Phoebe told me once," Y/N cleared her throat, trying to get rid of the scratchy feeling from not using it. Harry's green eyes moved to her from his observance of the lonely street they're next to as she spoke softly. "She told me the only time she truly felt alive was when she made decisions that were reckless and spontaneous. She said living her life precariously was the only reason for her happiness, claiming that the perfect life is just an illusion. That dreaming of labor should not be the goal, but instead becoming your authentic self and living with no regrets..."

Harry stays quiet, reflection in his eyes as he stares at her from across the table, chewing the food in his mouth. Y/N plays around with the food on her plate with her fork and waits for his acknowledgment (although, she doesn't even know if he would say or do anything -- she doesn't know why she decided to tell him that)

"I mean, she's right, righ'? I never understood when people would ask what your 'dream job' is from a young age. No one's dream is t'work everyday 'til they die. They have to, t'make a living and survive, but what's the point in living if you aren't enjoyin' it. But, if y'workin' all the time, how do you make the time to really live?" He says, furrowing his brows as he talks.

Y/N takes in his words. The moonlight and street lamps casting a soft glow on his face, his carved features looking even more beautiful at night.

"Yeah... I guess, I guess I just envy how she viewed life, ya know?" She states, looking at the cars drive by as she tries to explain how she feels. "Always saying things to make you rethink your existence and purpose..." She looks back at Harry and whispers, "...She talked about life so much like she knew she was going to die."

"Well, we're all gonna die eventually." Harry rests his arms on the table with a quiet sigh, his features passive, but his mind is thinking of how he just wants to hug her and tell her everything is going to be alright.

"Yeah, but she just...she talked about it like she knew all the answers. She knew exactly what to say, when to say it. Sometimes, I feel like she was telling everyone around her how to live in complete happiness because she knew she didn't have much of her own, despite convincing everyone she was carefree and unbothered." Y/N shrugs and watches as they fall into a short silence.

"...I miss her." Harry breathes out after a moment, reaching his hand across the table to hold hers. Her skin is soft against his as he rubs his thumb against her hand in an attempt to comfort both of them.

Her eyes soaking in his softened expression, her cherry tinted lips whispering, "Me too."

They eat the rest of their dinner in silence, the only sounds reverberating from the road with the occasional car or pedestrian. Harry pays for the food, but not without many protests from Y/N.

As the two walk side by side down the street, back to the cemetery to pick up their cars, Y/N suddenly falls anxious. She doesn't want to be alone tonight, scared of being alone with her thoughts when she goes back to stay in her childhood home. Her parents, still living in the house they lived in since her youth, had to drive up to another town for a few nights to stay with her cousins because they planned to go there before the news broke about Phoebe. Leaving Y/N alone in the empty house since there wasn't room for her at her cousins.

The black cemetery gates coming into view, eeriness and gloom becoming more apparent when the sun is down, Y/N and Harry can see their two cars sitting idly on the side of the road. Y/N fidgets with her fingers as they grow close to departure.

"D-do you, maybe, wanna hang out for a little while longer?" She turns to face him, looking up at him nervously. "I just don't want to be alone right now." She rushes out when he doesn't respond.

"Yeah, I didn't really want t'go home alone right now either." He offers a sliver of a smile before unlocking his car, grabbing two brown paper bags that look to hold bottles, and gesturing his head, "C'mon, we'll pick up my car later. Let's go celebrate Pheebz, yeah?" He grins.

She smiles at him, unlocking her own car and waiting for him to get in, putting on a playlist full of Phoebe's favorite songs. She drives through her hometown, memories stirring up of her and her best friend smoking weed in the park the summer before graduation and jumping in the lake naked in the middle of winter. The two end up at her house sitting in her abandoned driveway, both unbuckling but neither making the move to get out of the parked car, the engine still running as they sit listening to the melodies playing from the speaker.

Harry suddenly pulls out two bottles from the brown paper bags at his feet, one of vodka and the other tequila.

"Pick y'poison." He says with a smirk.

She picks the vodka and Harry mutters, "Good choice, tequila is more m'speed."

"Weren't you drinking vodka at the funeral?" She laughs, unscrewing the cap.

"Yeah, figured I'd drink Phoebe's favorite since it was her party." He chuckles.

"To Phoebe." Y/N says, sorrow lacing her voice as she turns in her seat to face Harry.

"To living your life precariously." He says before the two of them take a big gulp of the sharp liquid, starting what will only be the beginning of a long night.

***

Light shines through the white curtains, the room glowing bright in the soft, yellow sunlight. The white comforter tangled up in bodies as birds chirp in the morning tranquility. Y/N's eyes flutter open, immediately feeling sweaty and clammy. The headache that sets in reminds her of the amount of alcohol she consumed last night. Waking up in her childhood bed after blacking out in the backseat of her car the night before doing very little for her sanity.

As she lays in bed, groggy, she needs to pee. She moves to get up and walk to the bathroom connected to her room, only to freeze when an arm wraps around her and pulls her closer. Warm breathes pant at the back of her neck, unintelligible murmurs coming from the person behind her. Her eyes widen, realizing Harry is the one she is snuggling with in the early morning (afternoon?) light. Despite needing to pee really badly, she finds herself only melting into his touch. She can't remember the last time someone held her like this, can't remember the last time she felt this content. In fact, she thinks the last time she cuddled with someone was with Phoebe when she slept over in her room at their apartment... Well, just Y/N's apartment now.

Y/N and Phoebe would have movie nights in Y/N's room and in the midst of the fun, they would grow tired. Phoebe would never want to leave the comfort of Y/N's warm bed, so she always asked, sleepover?, with a wide grin. To which Y/N never refused and the two would put on The Notebook and fall asleep spooning one another. The first time it happened, when they were children having sleepovers, she tensed a bit; thinking it weird for her friend to cuddle her because no one had ever done that. But, as the years went by and their friendship grew stronger, knowing that despite both of them being bisexual it wasn't an act of intimacy, but one of platonic comfort.

So, Y/N figured (in her touch deprived mind) that this was just an act of friendly, platonic intimacy...nothing else. After coming to that conclusion, she let herself relax into his touch, his warm embrace nodding her off to sleep once again.

What wakes her up the second time is the sound of a gravelly voice groaning. The arm around her waist squeezes tightly before the body it's attached to tenses up. Harry tries to take in the position they're in -- his arm snuggling her close to his bare chest and legs intertwined with hers -- but his hangover headache clouds his mind too much to think about it. Only registering that he's never felt this comfortable with someone before, never felt someone so warm and cozy. He's cuddled lots of girls (and guys), has spent many mornings waking up in someones hold or holding someone in his, but they've never been as addicting as her. Never being so relaxing, so soft. He's about to just say, fuck it, and fall back asleep as to spend as much time with her in his clutch, but Y/N had stirred awake from his groaning and she really has to pee!

She slowly turns in his arms, their legs shifting apart, and is met with probably the cutest sight she's ever seen. His eyes are glassy and the green of his irises shine in the soft light. His lips pink and his face holding a hesitant look, like he thinks she might yell at him for accidentally ending up in his arms throughout the night, but she can also sense the underlying feeling of content reading on his face. The way his eyes soften when they meet hers and the way his hand involuntarily squeezes at her side. The serene feeling almost tangible as her childhood room becomes their own little world. All the responsibilities and pain of the outside fall ceased at the door decorated with heights of a growing Y/N.

"G'morning," His gravelly voice going straight to her heart, melting it at the beautiful sound.

"Good morning," She says in a raspy whisper, her throat dry from the alcohol and singing at the top of her lungs the night before.

She takes the quiet moment to look at his body, her gaze drifting from tattoo to tattoo, not realizing how many he has. She knew he had some from the ones on his hands yesterday, but she didn't know he had so many. His long sleeve button up had covered the view of the ones adorning his arms, but she looks at them now in awe, thinking how pretty they are.

She's about to tell him how much she likes the butterfly tattoo on his chest, when her bladder has other plans.

"I'm sorry, but I really have to pee," She bashfully smiles as she looks at him.

"Oh, m'sorry. Probably should've told ya' I'm a cuddler." He gives a small smile with embarrassment soaking his words, thinking he's made her uncomfortable.

"No need to apologize," Her eyes light up at his out of character shyness, "I am too, I just really have to go to the bathroom." The harmonious sound of her giggles soothing every worry in Harry's body.

He playfully sighs, "Fine, I guess I'll let y'go piss."

A smirk pulls at his lips as she rolls her eyes and gets up, but he can see the corners of her lips turn up.

She goes to the bathroom, doing her business and washing her hands. She takes the time to brush her teeth and wash her face, cringing when she looks in the mirror. She feels gross that she looked like this when Harry woke up with the resemblance of an angel.

When she's finished, she walks out back into her room, excited to get back into the warm bed (and hopefully cuddle with Harry some more, but she would never admit that out loud), but she's met with abandoned sheets and panic consumes her. Did he leave? Did I make him uncomfortable by waking up in his arms? He was the one to cuddle me and he joked about it! But maybe he was just trying to be nice so he could escape? Her mind starts to race a mile a minute of anxious thoughts before they're all suddenly wiped away at the smell of coffee wafting in from the open doorway.

She throws on a sweatshirt and socks and makes her way down the stairs of the familiar, yet foreign after spending so long away from home, house. Her sock clad feet pad on the hardwood floors as she walks into the kitchen, spotting Harry silently staring at a spot on the wall with a cup of coffee in his hand (he's using the same pink and green mug with a little ceramic pig sitting on the top of the handle that Phoebe would use every time she'd sleepover in high school).

She walks in quietly, coming up behind him and grabbing a cup of coffee for herself, noticing the two pain killers next to the pot (which made her heart swell if she's honest). He had heard her coming down the stairs, but despite her presence his focus is still on the spot on the wall. Taking a sip of her pick-me-up and swallowing the pills, she takes up space next to Harry, following his eyes that stare intently at a picture frame hanging up and her eyes immediately soften.

"That was freshman year," Y/N spoke delicately, staring at the picture herself, "We had both been asked to prom by these senior guys. I was ecstatic because no one had ever shown any liking to me, but Phoebe had played it cool, of course." Harry lets out a quiet breathy laugh because of course Phoebe didn't care.

"We spent weeks planning out how prom night would be. Imagining how the senior parties would be like and if the boys would kiss us by the end of the night or not. She came over at 9am the morning of the dance and we spent all day getting ready and laughing with each other. She had even done my makeup all pretty and I helped her get into her dress. I remember I laughed when she decided she was going to wear converse under her dress, and she almost convinced me to do it too because she said 'you're not gonna be the one laughing when we're at all the after parties and your feet are killing you'." A genuine smile forms on Y/N's face as she reminisces on the cherished moment.

"But, two hours before the dance, our dates cancelled on us and told us they were going with these senior girls." Harry scoffs bitterly, understanding how cruel teenage boys are.

"I remember I was so upset because the one time I thought someone actually liked me or thought I was pretty enough to go to prom with, had just made me a second choice..." She recalls to Harry, who is now looking at the side of her face as she looks at the picture of Phoebe carrying Y/N on her back, piggy-back style, in long prom dresses, dirty white converse peaking out from under both girls' dresses.

"So, she grabbed me by the arms and looked me in the eyes and said 'Y/N L/N, we are deserving of the love we wish for. No senior boys are going to make us doubt that. We are not little freshmen girls who can be seen as cheap thrills and easy hookups. We are women, who demand respect and complete infatuation.' Then she took the tickets that the boys had pre-purchased for us, took my hand, and dragged me to that dance. We had been each other's date and made prom our bitch. She even got us into a party afterward...And we had one hell of a night."

She smiles fondly at the sweet memory. Harry's eyes flutter between the picture and the beautiful girl next to him. How could she ever think of herself as a second choice?, is all he can wonder to himself.

Letting his gaze fall to the picture one last time, he mumbles, "Well, those boys missed out on the best thing t'ever happen t'them."

He doesn't catch Y/N's blush that creeps up on her cheeks as he turns around, taking a sip from his little pig mug.

She shakes her head as to get out of the crushing haze she falls into, turning and walking to the countertop, leaning against it as Harry stands in front of her on the other side.

"Thank you. F'letting me stay the night, last night." He speaks up.

Y/N notices how he's still lacking a shirt, making her mouth dry up just a little at the sight of how fit he is. The tattoos stretching across his tan skin so perfectly, the black ink creating such a beautiful contrast on his body. He catches onto the not-so-subtle gawking and smirks.

"Uh, yeah. It's really no problem. There's no way I'd have let you drive home intoxicated and it was the least I could do after I made you practically spend the day with me." She blushes.

"Y'didn't make me," He shakes his head gently with a smile.

Y/N doesn't know to feel about how her cheeks heat up at his remark, shyly looking away as the teasing gleam in his eyes might make her combust.

"O-okay. Good to know." She squeaks out, the action only fueling Harry's ego and playful mood.

"I should go get m'car from the cemetery before it gets towed," He says almost disappointedly, like he doesn't want to leave yet. If she's being honest, she doesn't want him to leave yet either.

"Yeah, that wouldn't be good. I'll give you a ride." She says, shaking off the saddened feeling of his departure.

"Oh, you don't have t'do tha'." He shakes his head but Y/N quickly shoots him down.

"Nonsense, I'll take you. It's no big deal."

He smiles at her objection, nodding, and going upstairs to grab the rest of his clothes, feeling uncomfortable in his dress pants from the funeral that he had put back on when he got up this morning, not wanting to make Y/N feel weird by staying in only his boxers.

***

Vodka Lover: hey... are you up?

She chews on the skin around her thumb, a nervous habit that Phoebe had always teased her about, as she sends the text to Harry (having exchanged numbers when she had dropped him off at his car at the cemetery). Phoebe had always said, 'You're not gonna have any thumb left to chew, babes, if you keep at it'. To which Y/N just rolled her eyes, but in the deafening silence of 4am, she wishes she cherished those moments with her best friend more. Wishing she didn't take for granted in those little encounters of Phoebe's care and concern with her well-being. Y/N would give anything to be able to spend one more minute with her.

Butterfly Boy: yeah, everything okay?

Vodka Lover: um, can i call you?

Suddenly, breaking the bitter quiet with a ringtone, her phone she holds in her palm lights up with Harry's contact. A tear falls from her face onto the screen and she has to wipe it away before she presses accept.

"Y/N?" Harry's deep voice rings out, laced in worry, from the other line.

She chokes out a sob, not being able to hold it back anymore. The floodgate of her emotions she has been trying to keep at bay suddenly burst. Salty tears fall onto the blue fluffy blanket from her senior year she's wrapped up in.

"Hey, hey, s'everythin' okay? What's wrong?" Harry says, more alert now that he hears her in such a fragile and frantic state.

Y/N just cries harder, desperately trying to catch her breath, she feels like she's suffocating.

"Hey, love, just breathe. Just breathe, Y/N." He tries to coax her down in a soothing voice.

A raggedy breath is heard on Harry's side, making the worry dissipate just a little now that he knows she's breathing. Harry sits up in his bed, calling out to Y/N, repeatedly telling her to just keep breathing. He can't get to what's wrong if she hyperventilates.

He was laying restless in his bed when she had texted, lost in thoughts of life and replaying memories with his cousin. Trying to grasp everything she's ever told him before, hoping that by watching the moments he spent with her like a film reel in his mind would help him not forget them.

"Love, can y'tell me what's got you so upset? Please," He asks softly when she calms down enough where her breathing is regular and not sporadic inhales gasping for air.

"I-I-I miss her," She cries out into the phone, the thought of embarrassing herself by breaking down to Harry not on her mind; the only thought she has is how empty she feels.

"I know, I know, love. I miss her, too," He sighs out sadly, wishing he could take away her pain, hating the way her voice quivers with every word. "Do you want t'talk about it?"

She wipes the tears that sting her eyes and cascade down her face with the sleeve of her sweatshirt. The one she wore when Harry slept over, smelling a little like him still from the car ride to his car that day, three days ago.

They had been texting each other and talking every day since then, usually about light topics like asking how their day's were or what they were doing. However, tonight (or early morning), everything felt like it was crashing down on her. Y/N's strong front she had put up since the funeral for Phoebe's family finally collapsed, and she's found herself stuck under the rubble. She was trying so hard to keep it in because she shouldn't be feeling sorry for herself when someone's kid is dead.

She had bored herself to tears, not knowing what to do. The only thing that seemed right was to call Harry.

"Talk to me, babe." He begs her, running a hand through his disheveled curls.

"I-" She sniffles, "I feel like I'm fucking drowning,"

He hates how defeated her voice sounds and he wishes he could just be there to hug her and tell her everything's going to be okay, eventually.

"It-it feels like my whole life is in ruins. Harry, I miss her." Her face scrunches up again as she starts to sob, "Sh-She was my best friend, I d-did everything with her. How am I s-supposed to do this without her? How am I supposed t-to live without her?"

"Oh, darling. I know, but you will..and you can." He frowns, racking his brain for the right thing to tell her, "You got t'live so you can experience all those ways of life she always talked about. Y'haven't experienced all those feelings Pheebz would mention when she would live her life precariously. Don't y'want to know how she felt when she would talk of such a beautiful life she lived, yeah?"

He hears a hiccup and a quiet, albeit breathy, yeah, from the other side of the call.

"You are so strong, Y/N. I don't know how y'made it this far without breaking down..." He tells her whole-heartedly.

"D-don't know how you haven't either," She gets out, realizing how selfish she's probably being, bothering Harry with her grief when he has his own to deal with.

"Honestly," He breathes out through a somber smile, "The only reason I haven't is because I have you, love."

Y/N's heart swells tenfold, she thinks. She didn't realize Harry needed her just as much as she needed him.

"...I'm sorry for calling you, I know it's late." She says through sniffles when she notices the time.

"There's no reason to apologize. It's okay, love. It's okay to hurt or be angry or upset. No one expects you to be perfect all the time." He pauses, listening to her breathing.

"Ya know, one day, it won't hurt this much. One day, you'll be able t'look back at this moment and it won't break y'heart as much as it does now. You're just in the thick of it right now, pretty girl. But, the light's coming soon, I promise." He continues and Y/N feels her heart beat faster at the pet name.

"You promise?" Her voice barely above a whisper and Harry thinks his heart just broke at the sound.

"Promise." He says, wiping the stray tears rolling down his cheeks, "Phoebe wouldn't want y'to be this upset. She would want you to keep living your life and find out the ways to how she was so in love with it. If not for yourself, love, then for her...F'me."

She nods, despite knowing he can't see. Silence falls over the pair, only the sound of bated breaths assuring the other one is there.

"One summer," He speaks up, "One summer, my family had come t'visit them, partly because of the lake near her house. It was after we had moved t'the States from Cheshire, and Phoebe and I would go walk to the little pond near the park,"

"The one near Hope?" She asks quietly if they had gone to the park she had always played at as a little girl.

"Mhm. We would walk there in the blistering sun and when we got there she tried to convince me how fairies were real." He said in a calm voice.

He hears an airy puff of breath escape her mouth, which he takes as a small giggle -- making him want to continue his story as it's helping her cheer up, and because he'd probably do anything to hear her that sound from her.

"Yeah, fairies. She told me that they live at the pond and t'see them, I would have to find a pretty flower and then jump in the water with it in only m'underwear." He breathes out a laugh.

Y/N gasps, trying to keep quiet but fails when she lets out a loud laugh.

"Oh my, did you do it?" She asks bewildered, laying down so her head rests against the pillow.

"So, I told Phoebe 'no way', yeah? But, then she said she can't just tell me about them and not follow through with seeing them. Convinced me that it would bring bad luck." He scoffs, remembering the memory vividly.

"Bad luck, indeed." She giggles and it brings the dimple out on Harry's face.

"Yeah, so of course, me being like 8 or sum', I stripped down to m'pants in the middle of the day and jumped in the water." He smiles when he hears her laughing, even if it's at his expense. "Y'laughing, but I think I got ringworm after tha'!"

"I can't believe she got you to do that! I wish I'd been there." Y/N says, out of breath from laughing.

"Scarred me of ponds for the rest of m'life." He chuckles and a pause takes them both over as they settle back down. 

"...Thank you, H." She whispers into the phone, adoration taking up all her features.

“F’what?”

“For being you, for being here. Just...Thank you.” She sighs. 

They get lost in recalling stories of their loved one for the rest of the night, repainting her memories in gold. They laugh with each other until all the pain seems to disappear. The weight, of what felt like the world, lifting off of both their shoulders. Finally being able to breathe after days of endless battles of trying to stay strong for Phoebe's sake.

***

Days pass since the lonely 4am phone call and Y/N and Harry are still talking everyday.

She finds out he lives in her city, only a few blocks from her apartment she shared with Phoebe! She didn't believe him when he first told her, but he said he was always busy with college whenever Phoebe tried to meet up. Y/N's not going to lie, her heart picked up when she found out he'd be so close to her, wondering if he'd want to hang out with her when they leave her hometown.

Almost everyday of the last few days they have visiting, they've spent at Y/N's empty childhood home. Harry asking her to explain pictures and what she was like in high school, whenever he gets the chance. In turn, she's been picking his mind on what Holmes Chapel was like and how his family was growing up. She found out that he lived with his sister, Gemma, and his mom, Anne. They talked about everything, from their favorite things to every pet they've ever had (Y/N, particularly, falling in love with the pictures of his cat, Evie).

Just as the last few days have been spent, they are spending Y/N's last day in her hometown together before she goes back. Harry told her he had to stay a couple more nights with his family before he could leave, assuring her he would've gone back with her if he could've. That comment made her blush and she had to pray the butterflies growing in her tummy to relax.

That's another thing. Y/N had stopped lying to herself and denying the ache in her chest that would form when she was away from Harry, growing very fond of him since their first encounter at the headstone bench.

Harry, also, couldn't deny any longer the way his heart would flutter at every little thing she did. Just wondering to himself how everything about her was just so pretty. He loved the way her eyes would light up every time she saw him and how he would catch her checking him out whenever he took off his shirt.

He especially loved the way she let him sleepover a few times and how they would end up cuddling into the late hours of the morning. Both parties not minding one bit, the comfort and warmth actually preferred than sending Harry home to sleep in his own bed.

"Bet I can reach that branch right there," Harry shouts with a gleeful tone, a bit out of breath as he tries to stretch his legs far enough so his shoe brushes against the leaf on the end of the tree branch.

The two of them decided to go to Hope park, where they both held fond childhood memories at. They settled at the swingset, calm swaying in the seats quickly turning into a competition of who could swing the highest. Harry won of course, his legs being much longer than hers giving him the advantage. Playful giggles and sweet conversations of things occurring in that moment help distract them from both Phoebe and the fact that Y/N is leaving.

Y/N is distracting herself from worrying about if Harry will reach out to her when they get back to the city, if he even wants to talk to her again after this weekend or if this was all just out of politeness.

Harry, on the other hand, is distracting himself from wondering if she fancies him. He wonders if the cuddles and small touches meant as much to her as they did him, if after this weekend she would want to hang out again or if she was just being nice because he knows what she's going through.

"Bet I can reach it before you!" She giggles as her hair whips around in the wind she's created. Pumping her legs back and forth, desperately trying to get higher so she can beat Harry in her made up competition.

"Now, love, not everything has to be a competition," He huffs, really reaching out this time, "But, I wanna win, if we're playing a game, I wanna win." He grins, the cute dimple that Y/N has fallen for making an appearance on his face.

The two try their hardest to be the first ones to touch the tree branch hanging not too far from their swinging feet at their highest point. Harry, however, attempts a little too hard and flies off the swing when he lifted up his leg to make the two inch gap he was short of.

Tumbling to the woodchip covered ground, he ends up laying on his back. Groans spill out of his mouth and Y/N's eyes go wide with concern. She slows herself down just enough to safely jump off the swingset, rushing to Harry's side.

"Oh my god, are you okay?" She asks worriedly, trying to hold back the laugh that's trying to bust out. Crouching down to him, she runs her hand over his arm that's grabbing his leg.

He rubs his knee with a pained smile, "Yeah, just peachy, pet."

"Is anything hurting? Bruised?" She questions with a loving smile.

"Just my ego," He chuckles, looking up at her and admiring her caring nature.

She can't hold it in anymore, she laughs loudly at his comment, her carefree happiness making Harry's ears perk up and his heart warm.

"Yeah, love, just laugh at the crippled man." He jokes, smiling up at her happy face, wishing it could stay that way forever.

She lets out another laugh at his comment, delicately grabbing his arm to help him up, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. It wasn't funny," She attempts to calm herself but fails, "Okay, it was a little bit funny!"

Giggles fall out of her mouth as Harry brushes off the mulch from his jeans, "See how much you're laughing when I push you out of the swing."

"I'm soo scared." She mocks fear.

"Oh, just wait, pet. You'll never be safe on another swing set again." He playfully grabs her sides to tickle her, but her fighting his tries just ends up bringing her closer in his hold.

Their laughs quickly die out when they realize he's holding her in his clutch, his hands at her waist, hers around his neck. Harry stares into her eyes as she stares back into his. The empty park is serene, no other noises besides the chirping of birds and the sounds of other animals sprawling about. The sweet moment causes Y/N's breath to hitch and her palms to sweat. They've only been this close when cuddling, she's never been this close to his face before. His features glow in the sunlight, his green irises complimenting the bounce of his skin and dark eyelashes. Her skin is soft and warm against his, and he just wants to lean in and-

Y/N's eyes flutter close as Harry's face comes closer, his lips meet hers in a gentle caress. With the sweet kiss, he takes note of how soft her lips are, how warm and fuzzy her intimate touch is making his head. While one hand is squeezing at her side, the other is brought up to cradle her face and she leans into his touch. Harry sucks on her bottom lip before peeling away so they can catch their breath.

Y/N lets out a whine at the loss of contact, her bottom lip jutting out as he pulls away.

"What are y'pouting for, pet? W-was that not okay? Should I not have done tha'?" The blood almost drains from his face at the pouty look on her beautiful face.

She shakes her head at him, "No, I liked it. I want more," She pants, pulling him by the collar of his shirt to bring him back to her lips.

He chuckles at her cute antics (and in relief of not fucking up his shot with her). He smiles against her lips as he melts back into her, her hand around his neck reaching up to tangle in his curly hair. He groans when her nimble fingers pull tenderly at the curls at the base of his neck, causing him to squeeze her side gently.

She breathlessly kissed him, slotting her lips between his and immediately opening her mouth in acceptance when he brushes his tongue against her bottom lip in a silent ask to take it further. As the kiss deepens, the need for air increases. They naturally separate, Harry sucking her bottom lip as he goes until it pops back.

Taking in her reddened swollen lips and her pretty flushed face, he presses one last chaste kiss on her lips, and one to her cheek and her nose.

A big, genuine grin adorns Y/N's face as she stares up at the man in front of her.

"Thank you f'letting me do tha'." He says with a gravelly voice.

"I've been thinking about you doing that since the first night you stayed at my house." She tells him bashfully.

"Me too, love. And it was better than I ever expected," He says whole-heartedly, leaning in to press one more quick kiss to her lips again.

"So, does this mean we're gonna hang out when we both go back home? Because I really want to do that again." Her glassy eyes blink at him with hope awaiting his answer.

He smiles and shakes his head, bewildered at how she could ever think that he could just ghost her after that, "I think Phoebe would come back just to slap me upside the head if I ever kissed her best friend and just never saw her again."

She chuckles at his comment, shyly looking down to her hand on his chest when he doesn't say anything else.

"Of course, I want to hang out when we get back. I want to take y'out on a real date, if you'd let me."  He looks at her all starry eyed, squeezing her waist.

"I think Phoebe would come back and slap me upside the head if I ever kissed her cousin and just never saw him again," This time he's the one that laughs.

"I'd love that very much, Harry." She beams up at him.

Going back home couldn't come sooner to the both of them.

******************

ahhh i hope y’all liked that, i’d love feedback :) i’m thinking of making a series out of it, but only if that’s something y’all would like! so, pls let me know if you enjoyed it or if i should make a part 2 ?? 

anyways, stay safe and much love <3

#playlistficchallenge #Harry Styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry #hshq #hs #hs1 #harry styles writing #fanfiction #fanfic #romance #funeral #one direction #harry blurb #harry one shot #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles prompt #writing #adore you #lights up #fine line #falling #golden #dont worry darling #1025cherrystreet

[gucciwins]

Breakout Room

Harry is chatty and Y/N wants out

Word count: 1162

A/N: I dislike breakout rooms but I was in class and this came to mind. I thought I’d share it with you all.  A short piece that I hope you enjoy. 

____

"Alright, class, it's now time for breakout rooms to discuss this week's readings that we had to do for Bad Feminists by Roxanne Gay. Groups of two or three. See you in 15 minutes." Professor Green said with a cheerful tone, happy to put you all in rooms of quietness. 

You dreaded when this time came. It's not like you to interact with others in person. Why do they assume you want to do it as well through a camera that freezes every time you move to pick up a pen? 

Group 4, accept or decline why is it an option when if you refuse, you stay in the main session with your Professor who will ask many questions and accept is dealing with others who may or may not make you question why they are in that class. Men in a gender's studies class are there to be educated, not to do the educating. Thankfully, Professor Green never gets tired of putting them in their place. 

You feel your palms begin to sweat as your screen begins to load, one person exiting as your camera focuses. There on the screen staring at you with a dimpled smile is a boy in a black hoodie where only half the top of the design can be seen. It's an exciting design, and if you were any other person, you would ask to settle the burning question, but you won't. 

He waves and begins to talk, but you can't hear him because he forgot to take off the mute. No, you don't tell him because this is amusing. 

You turn on your microphone and stare at yourself through the small box displaying your name. Your hair is up, and you're wearing a grey crew neck with three different colored birdhouses, as well as a Blue Jay, and a Red Robin. It's soft, and you got it thrift shopping for a dollar. 

It's an eight-thirty class, meaning you don't look awake enough yet. 

Times like this, you wish you liked coffee to wake you up, you prefer tea, but it seems your roommate finished the last one and didn't bother throwing out the box.

"I'm logging off. I'll log back in fifteen." You move your mouse to the red leave button but stop when you hear his voice.

"You're going to leave me alone." A whine heard in his voice, but that isn't what surprises you. It's the accent. He's British. 

Most of the time, you forget how large your university really is when you only interact with your department. 

"Are you in the states or back in your native country?" You ask because this would eat you alive if you didn't ask. 

"The accent always gives me away. No, I'm still here. I have an apartment close to the university. My lease is up after I graduate. No point in breaking it." Harry shares that as if you are an old friend. "I'm assuming you aren't leaving me anymore."

"I don't like breakout rooms." You're not sure why you didn't just leave. You don't owe him anything. This is your first meeting if you can call it that. 

"Well, sorry to hear that. I love them." Harry shares. "I love talking with people." 

"Sorry." You don't know why you apologize, but it felt like the right thing to do

"Well," He pauses, seeing as he now has your attention. "We could just talk." 

"Why?" 

He looks down at his lap before once more looking up, you're not sure if his cheeks went red or he's sweating, but he does look embarrassed. "You have a nice voice." 

"Uh… thanks." 

"I'm Harry." He puts us a piece sign in greeting. 

It's different, you think. 

"I know." 

Harry's mouth drops. "How?"

"It's displayed on the screen." You say before you see him look down, nodding because your name was there as well.

"Right." He scratches his neck, nervous tick, you assume. "How do you like this class?" 

"It's great. Thinking of declaring it as a minor. Not that many units." You tell him surprised at your willingness to do that,  

"Barely? Shouldn't minors be declared sooner? I'm assuming you're a senior or whatever." 

"A junior, but I would be double minoring." 

"Impressive. I'm also a junior. Scary how close our last year is. What's your major?"

"Psychology," Your camera shakes, your cat headbutting the laptop, causing you to laugh, but Harry never questions you. "And yours?"

"Kinesiology."

You hum, nodding your head. 

"What's that look?" Harry is quick to question.

You shrug. "Just typical of you frat boys, if I'm honest." 

"I'll have you know I'm not one of them." He tells you smugly. 

"Shocker." You roll your eyes, getting him to laugh at your bored tone. 

"It's just that I'm too pretty for them." Harry fakes a hair flip causing you to burst out into laughter. 

"Very humble as well." The sarcasm dripping from your voice. 

You both laugh, causing you both to fall silent. 

"See, this was nice, a virtual date." You swear his eyes almost pop out when he realizes what he said. "Shit, what, not a date, not that you're not pretty because you are, but uh.. I'll shut up now."

"You're not so bad yourself, Styles, but you already know that." 

His camera goes black for a second before he returns, looking more composed. "Do you want to talk again?" 

"If the zoom gods allow it." You joke. 

"You're funny. I bet your laugh is even better in person." Harry has his head propped on his chin, smiling at you, a bit loved up if you're honest.

It makes you feel flustered; gosh, when has a boy ever managed that. Before you can reply, a text pops up on your screen, informing you there are sixty seconds to return to the main session. You don't even think about before accepting and leaving Harry alone without a goodbye. 

The last half hour of the class goes by quick. You push all thoughts away from the pretty brunette you spent fifteen minutes talking to. Professor Green bids you all goodbye, and you're out after typing out a "Thank you, Professor." Not giving you time to think about it twice. 

____

After scheduling out the following week's readings and assignments, you log in to your email, always needing to be up to date. Also, to get rid of spam that you may have begun to receive. There is one from a professor letting you know they submitted the letter of recommendation. You type out a quick thank you, it took a lot of courage to ask, but thankfully it got done, meaning a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. 

You stay staring at one email. It shocks you, honestly. 

[email protected] 

Subject: ZOOM ABANDONMENT 

You laugh at the subject, not at all, having expected him to reach out.

It seems it wouldn't be the end of your interaction with Harry Styles, but the beginning. 

#harry styles #harry styles blurb #fluff #harry styles fluff #harry styles story #zoom university #something short but sweet #harry styles writing #harry styles uni

[heroesandlovers]

Nancy Drew 2x06 "The Riddle of the Broken Doll"

It’s Allhallowtide in Horseshoebay- "kids make lanterns and release them by the shore to represent souls passing by." This town has so many ghost traditions I would have hated growing up here but yes it makes for good TV.

To celebrate, the DrewCrew is celebrating with a (non-pagan for Millie) game night. Is it completely awesome to see the DrewCrew acknowledge they are friends? Yes. They didn’t start out as friends but they’ve been through some shit. They're bonded now and it's refreshing to see after a few episodes ago where they all experienced grievance diarrhea with each other.

Nancy is doing community service at the morgue (did she finish those hours by the end of S3? Just asking…for no specific reason would I want to know whether there is a reason that Nancy would have to be at the morgue in future episodes)

Leo is the cutest bug.

“Charles says the spinning berries makes the world go round”- this is so weird and random. There’s no way it’s not coming back to be something important.

A weird body comes into the morgue. “Spinal column fully lacerated and haphazardly stitched together”. Nancy is briefly left alone in the morgue where she hears a “banging”. She covers up the camera (like that’s not suspicious in and of itself?). She opens the drawer with the body (because of course she does). Within seconds she finds…a string of…spiders? In his mouth? Are the writers just like…what’s the weirdest, creepiest, thing we can think of?

Ace and Nancy planning the food for game night.

My married parents. Back at her house now, Nancy hears the banging again. (Is she wondering if Lucy is still around?). This leads her to…finding a dead body in her cupboard.

The scene where the group convinces themselves not to call the cops about the dead body is HILARIOUS. It's like self-gaslighting. Nick is flabbergasted with his friend. His facial expressions are literally screaming “How did I get to this point”?

“Everything we’ve done with Nancy the last few months, gave me a sense of purpose”.

DON’T TOUCH ME I’M EMOTIONAL.

Nick is cautious to get back into the supernatural mystery solving business. Meanwhile Ace snaps his gloves on. Love it. Nick is so funny in this scene I CANNOT.

Inside the body are…flowers? And animal bones? That only existed over a century ago?

While the group performs the autopsy, Nancy goes to interview Darlene, the person whose backyard the corpse was found in..and Carson’s client. Darlene is a seamstress, she couldn’t have done the sloppy stitching Nancy saw in the morgue. She goes to Hannah to help next but Hannah is POed with her for opening the archive box without being aware of what the potential consequences.

None other than Connor the coroner comes to Nancy’s house where he finds the…dead body. Not a good look for them. The amount of blood in the corpse makes Nancy suspect that the corpse is in fact. Not. Dead.

While transporting the body make to the morgue…the corpse escapes. Connor is spiraling.

(How is there not a gif of Conner calling Nancy an omnipresent wizzard??)

Nancy and Nick check out Darlene’s house to look for clues. Our first (second?) time hearing of the “women in white” (I think someone correct me if I’m wrong). One of Darlene’s ancestors? was apparently a part of them. They were the first people to call to The Aglaeca. Per Hannah, Nancy opening the archive box must have released a sealed vapor that caused this evil spirit thing (lamia?) to take form. They do some research about the last time this spirit was in town and discover a harrowing fact, it seems to prefer children, including Charles Fowler whose statue has been standing watch over the buried lamia.

Charles says the spinning berries makes the world go round”- I KNEW IT WOULD COME BACK. Leo has apparently been talking to Charles?

Nick with a British accent…I’ve rarely heard the actor talk with his real accent so..is this what it sounds like? He does a good job of making it sound fake.

The lamia manages to get Ted and Charlie..but they’ve learned from Charles, through Leo, to ward him off with some lavendar and other things that will summon the ghosts of his victims. They are able to ward him.

Lemme just slide a little closer in this direction here...

Connor is on their side now (praise hands). Having the coroner on their side will come in handy.

Carson hires Nancy. (SO CUTE)

George (and Nick)

George is experiencing some weird symptoms.

Nick: “She won’t talk about it. And I don’t want to push her before she’s ready. I learned that lesson”

Ace, my insightful empath: “George isn’t Nancy”.

Because Ace is really good at reading people and understanding them, he can see that George’s needs are very different from Nancy. George is not used to having someone to share and process her emotions with so in some sense, she may NEED a little more pushing.

Ace offers to talk to George about their shared experience of being basically dead (it took me a minute but I guess he means the coma after the car accident)....where it ironically WAS George who found his soul and brought him back.

George opens up to Ace. Poor Nick. All his women are willing to share stuff with Ace they won’t share with him :(.

George tells Nick that she knows she’s not OK but that she has to figure it out. Honestly. I’m a bit heartbroken for Nick. This seems like such a repeat of his relationship with Nancy. The guy just wants them be there for her. He MUST be wondering why people keep pushing him away and won’t let him in. (I WANT TO GIVE HIM A HUG)

The episode cliffhanger- George realizes that Odette is “with” her.

Aceisms

“Did you burn your knuckle hair again" Ace, what do you mean AGAIN?

“Game night Ace crushes”

“Did he follow you home”- ABOUT A DEAD BODY?

“I owe you a new sponge”

“Those ghost kids were awesome”

#ace nancy drew #nancy drew #nancy drew reviews #nancy x ace #nancydrew #nace #ace nd #nancy drew season 2 #nancy drew 2x06

[jar-of-ectoplasm]

some la squadra headcannons nobody asked for lol

a/n: i haven't seen part 5 yet but i'm already in love with these assholes take some headcannons because i literally can't stop thinking about them

also please tell me if you want like,,,romantic headcannons for these hoes cause i got some of those too i guess :)

some mentions of violence but they're hitmen, what'd you expect?

-Melone has a glass eye but he's insecure about it so he covers it up with his hair

-Melone also forgets to eat/drink/bathe a lot so he ends up getting super sick and weak very easily

-Risotto overworks himself to the point of exhaustion and Prosciutto takes care of him

-Gelato cut the tip off someone's tongue after they cat called Sorbet

-Ghiaccio gets migraines very easily because of how much he yells

-Pesci has the strongest bones in La Squadra

-Risotto got his eyes tattooed and that's why his sclera are black

-Illuso and Formaggio are best friends

-Sorbet and Gelato like to take the team out to dinner when they have a good week

-Ghiaccio and Formaggio are both punk as fuck

-Melone had a scene phase in highschool

-Illuso was emo

-Risotto and Prosciutto are both goth

-Formaggio is a raging bisexual, so is Illuso

-Melone is pansexual

-Ghiaccio was afraid the team would make fun of his glasses so he got contacts but stopped wearing them after Prosciutto complimented the new frames Ghiaccio got

-Illuso, Risotto and Pesci all have horrible nightmares (they sit at the kitchen table when they can't go back to sleep and talk)

-Gelato also has really bad nightmares but Sorbet is always there to calm him down

-Prosciutto has asthma because of how much he smokes (Pesci carries his inhaler for him)

-Illuso has social anxiety and gets really overwhelmed when he's around large groups of people

-Prosciutto likes farmers markets and does most of his shopping there

-Risotto has an apron that says "kiss the cook" on it (Formaggio got it for him)

-Risotto has threatened his team that he'd learn necromancy and bring them all back if they die before him

-Formaggio is a himbo

-Melone goes by literally any pronouns, he straight up doesn't care what people call him

-Every member of the team is touch starved but are wonderful cuddlers

-Formaggio is always covered in cat hair

-Ghiaccio and Illuso are the nicest to new recruits. They both give the newbie a secluded place to be when they get overwhelmed (the mirror world, Ghiaccio's car)

-Even though they don't get paid enough, the gang always gets their teammates something for Christmas (Ex. Formaggio getting Risotto that apron)

-Melone makes SURE everybody has something for Valentine's Day whether they like the holiday or not

-Prosciutto gets scented candles from Bath and Body Works but they always end up missing (Illuso takes them)

-The gang has scheduled movie nights on Saturdays after everyone is back from their respective missions

-Pesci has beat the shit out of random dudes that have cat called girls on the street (and he'd do it again)

-Ghiaccio has a funko pop collection

-Illuso trolls people on the internet for fun

-Formaggio has been to New York and likes to talk in an overly fake accent sometimes (Prosciutto is SICK of it)

-One time Risotto ended up with a concussion after a mission gone wrong and he forgot everyone's names

-Illuso is very good at picking people's pockets (Prosciutto has lost many a lighter to this man)

-Illuso and Melone have girls night every Friday

-Everyone on the team owns one of Risotto's hoodies

-Ghiaccio has to sleep with a retainer in because he's clenched his teeth so hard in his sleep one of them chipped

-Melone's teeth are a little crooked because he didn't wear his retainer after he got his braces off in middle school

-Risotto gives wonderful forehead kisses

-Prosciutto talks to himself in a British accent sometimes

-Melone calls Risotto a girl boss

-Ghiaccio majored in English when he was in college but had to drop out because he couldn't afford it

-Prosciutto wanted to be a lawyer when he was younger

-Pesci gets car sick

-Every bartender in Napoli knows Formaggio

-Whenever Prosciutto holds hands with someone he does the thumb rub thing across their knuckles

#i'm sorry this wasn't a request/something i was actually planning to work on #i just love my boys sm #but fr if y'all want romantic headcannons for them please tell me because i love these hoes #la squadra #la squadra jjba #jjba headcanons #jjba

[spookybreadstick]

Hey!!!! I was wondering if you could write a scenario for Toby confessing to his s/o 😳👉👈 - dancing parrot 🐦🎶🐦🎶

Okay so I wasn’t quite sure where I wanted to go with this, I had so many ideas it was hard to choose so I kind of meshed two of my favorite ideas into one lol. I hope it’s okay, it’s my longest (I’m pretty sure anyway) little scenario yet and I’m nervous/excited to post it. I personally think it’s kinda cute but uh let me know guys 😅 I also had it be Toby confessing that he has a crush on the reader, and for the purposes of this scenario the reader is female (I tried, but it’s harder than I thought to write gender neutral scenarios) 

NOTE: I am trying out different ways to incorporate Toby’s tics into the writing, because I think it is an important part of his character and I want to honor that while having it be respectful and also easier to read. I put his tics in * * so that it is easier to see when he’s having a verbal tic because otherwise it can look a lil funky. Let me know if this was an okay way to go about it, I’m still learning! 

🪓 Toby Confesses To His (Female) S/O  🪓

"Dude, stop star-staring. You're making it weird." Toby whispered to BEN, who was currently staring intently at you from a distance.

"How do you think I'm gonna help you if I don't know what I'm doing?" BEN barely glanced at Toby, who was fidgeting nervously beside him.

After a couple of seconds, BEN turned to Toby. "I don't know, dude. I need to see you guys in action."

"What does that mean?" Toby asked.

"Just go over and talk. Act natural. I need to see the vibe between you two." BEN said, nudging Toby towards you despite his whispers of protest.

Seeing Toby walk slowly towards you, you turned and greeted him. "Hey, Toby. What are you doing?"

"Uh, nothing. Just, uh, j-just walking..? He trailed off uncertainly.

You didn't seem to mind his awkward behavior, and continued to chat with him for another minute or two. Well, it was more like you were chatting at him rather than with him. Toby was just standing there uncomfortably, as he tried to will all of his tics away for a few minutes. It's hard when he's nervous and trying to make himself look good in front of you. Suddenly, you were being pulled away by one of the other pastas who wanted your opinion on something. Toby watched you leave the room, waving goodbye as you went.

"Dude. That was literally the worst thing I've ever seen." BEN appeared beside Toby, laughing.

"Knock *knock who's there?* knock it off." Toby gave him a slight shove.

"I can't help you if you're gonna be a dweeb about it." BEN shrugged.

"I'm not being a dweeb!" Toby cried indignantly.

"Okay, sure." BEN rolled his eyes.

"So?" Toby asked eagerly.

"So, what?"

"So, does she like me too?"

"I mean, she must like you at least a little. You were standing there like a goober, and she didn't care."

"BEN!"

"I'm sorry, but that was some classic comedy material right there. I could have made, like, a dozen jokes about the whole thing. All I'm saying is, she didn't take a golden opportunity to make fun of you, so maybe you do stand a chance after all."

"Okay, well, are you gonna help me *hide the body* help me win her over or what?" Toby crossed his arms.

"Nah. It's too much fun to watch you make a fool out of yourself." BEN grinned.

"Dude, seriously?"

"Look, I may be a man of talent, but I can't pass my flirt skills on to you. They'd just go to waste, man."

"Thanks a lot." Toby huffed.

"The best advice I can give you is to just relax, man. Just chill out, and don't act like you have rigor mortis. The whole time she was talking to you, you were rooted to the spot and your limbs were all tight. Don't do that. Just be loose and let it happen, you know?"

"Do you think I should tell her how I feel?" Toby asked timidly, shifting his weight from side to side. He really did like you. And he didn't always get so nervous around you, he reasoned to himself. He was better in groups, at least, when some of the attention was off of him.

"I don't know." BEN shrugged.

"You're talking about Y/N, right?" Hoodie asked, stepping into the room.

"Jesus, man, you scared the shit out of me!" BEN yelped.

"Sorry. Toby, do you have a crush on Y/N?"

"No! Why would you think *clink clink clink* that?"  

"You're pretty obvious about your feelings, Toby."

"D-do you think she knows?" Toby asked, dread crawling through his body. "I mean, it doesn't m-matter, it's not like I like her or anything, I just want to know." He added quickly, trying to cover his tracks.

"No, I don't think so." Hoodie replied, after a moment of thought.

"Why do you care?" BEN asked Hoodie, peering at him suspiciously.

Hoodie shrugged. "I don't care too much. Just figured Toby would want to know if she was dating somebody else. I mean, if he did like her." Hoodie cocked his head to the side, looking at Toby through his mask.

"W-what do you mean? She's dating somebody?" Toby's hand began to involuntarily rub at his neck.

"Not yet anyway. But I did hear that Jeff might ask her out." Hoodie said casually.

"Jeff? Tha-" BEN's words were quickly cut off by Hoodie smacking him in the side. Toby's mind was too preoccupied with visions of you and Jeff together, that he didn't notice.

"S-shit. Do... do you think she'd say y-yes?" Toby asked apprehensively.

"I don't know. But if you did have feelings for Y/N, which you say you don't, but if you did then you should probably tell her how you feel before Jeff does. Just in case." Hoodie said pointedly.

Toby nodded his head several times before yelling about how he had to do something (something totally unrelated) and then dashing out of the room.

~~

Toby ran down the lengths of the corridors, desperate to find you before Jeff could. His heart pinched to think of what would happen if you did decide to go out with Jeff. He couldn't bear it.

Toby was so lost in his thoughts that he narrowly missed running directly into Sally, who was wandering the halls as well.

"Sorry, Sally, I gotta go." Toby puffed, out of breath.

"Toby! You gotta come play with me!" Sally looked at him with eyes full of childish begging.

"Not now, Sal." Toby bounced impatiently, waiting for her to move.

"Toby Rogers, you come play with me right now!" Sally crossed her arms. "Or I'll tell Slendy that you were being mean to me."

Toby looked down at her in shock. "You wouldn't."

Sally stuck her tongue out playfully. Toby sighed, then ran his hands through his hair in frustration.

"Fine! *Fine wine, very fine wine* I-I'll go play with you. But it has to be quick, I'm really *busy bee* busy!" Toby pleaded.

"Okey-dokey!" Sally exclaimed happily, grabbing Toby's hand and pulling him along to her playroom.

~~

When Toby entered Sally's playroom, he was expecting to find the table set for tea, with various stuffed animals positioned into chairs and dressed in different colored tutus. That wasn't a surprise. What was an unexpected surprise, however, was finding you sitting in one of Sally's pink plastic chairs. Toby skidded to a stop, like a deer in headlights, taking in the sight of you perched in the tiny chair with a princess tiara on your head.

"Hi, Toby." You waved slightly. "Like the tiara?"

"Uh, yeah. It, um, it looks-it looks great." Toby stuttered out.

"We're going to play Princess Tea Time." Sally announced loudly, putting on a tiara of her own. 

"Y/N and I are going to be princesses, of course." Sally gestured to the matching tiaras.

"Tickles and Marmalade will be the Ladies-in-Waiting." Sally pointed to a pink bear and a blue triceratops. "Larry is going to be a knight, and my very romantic fiance." She gestured to a manatee.

"And Toby is going to be the prince from another kingdom that comes to tea!" Sally beamed.

Toby plastered a big fake smile on his face before Sally's game of play-pretend began.

~~

The three of you had been playing for a good twenty minutes, and Toby had been having a good time in spite of the circumstances. He had been enjoying himself enough to have forgotten about the whole Jeff thing entirely. Sally was serving real cookies, and there was fruit punch in the pink teapot. Sally is an excellent little actress, and she had adopted an over-the-top British accent to go with her whole "diva princess madly in love with the lowly knight" vibe that she had going. Toby found himself relaxing as time went on, and he found his ability to actually converse like a normal person. He had even made a few jokes that you'd laughed at.

However, Sally decided it was high time to raise the stakes of her little game.

"Prince Toby, what just fell out of your pocket?" Sally asked, pointing to a spot of nothing on the floor. She leaned over to pick up nothing off the floor, then pretended to 'read' whatever it was. She gasped dramatically, hands over her heart.

"Prince Toby! This letter states your love for Princess Y/N!" Sally exclaimed. "And just when were you going to confess to my dear sister?"

"I-I-um, I-" Toby stuttered, unable to think of how to play along. This was becoming too close for comfort.

"It's true?!" Sally gasped dramatically once more, ignoring Toby's failed acting attempt. "Good heavens! Sister, what do you think?"

"I... I don't know, dear sister. What ever should I do?" You asked Sally, half-playing along.

"Well, we have to determine if Prince Toby's love for you is true." Sally turned to Toby excitedly. He stared at her blankly in return. 

"Well? Go on, tell her how you feel." Sally urged.

Toby looked at you and suddenly words starting coming out of his mouth that seemed to stumble right from his heart. "I don't know how to act when I'm around you, because you make me so nervous. You're the most amazing person I've ever met in my life. You're like... like a goddess to me. You're so beautiful, and kind, and you're always so nice to me of all people, and I really wanted to tell you this before, especially since there's other guys that want your heart, but I was scared of what you'd say..." Toby trailed off, heart racing. "I, uh, that's how the prince, I mean me, that's how I feel about you. Princess Y/N." Toby tripped over his words, trying to act like it was all part of the game.

"Now that was romantic." Sally sighed happily.

~~

The game ended shortly after that, due to Slender calling Sally downstairs so she could watch some cartoons that she liked, which was a good thing since Toby could hardly bring himself to look you in the eyes. He worried that you had read between the lines and realized that his words were actually true. Sally had just skipped out of the room when Toby stood and faced you. You stood as well, plucking your tiara from your head and fiddling with it.

"That was a pretty intense game." You half-laughed after several beats of awkward silence.

"Y-yeah, it was." Toby looked at the ground.

"Sally's got quite the imagination."

"Yeah. *Yeah, yeah*"

"You do too."

"What?"

"I mean, coming up with that whole thing about how the prince feels about the princess? That was pretty creative."

"Oh, yeah... about that..." Toby trailed off. "S-sorry if I made you uncomfortable or anything."

"No, no, it's fine. You were just playing the part." You smiled to try to put his obvious nerves at ease.

"But-but I wasn't." Toby looked you in the eyes.

"You weren't?"

"No, I..." Toby drew in a deep breath. "I really like you."

"In what way?" You asked, half in a whisper.

"That-that way. The-the lovey kind of way?" Toby half-whispered back, unsure of your reaction.  

"Really?" Your eyes brightened with hope.

"I like you so much and I really want to be your-your....your prince." Toby looked down at his hands, before glancing back at you. "If-if you want me to. I get it if you d-don't like me..."

"No!" You cut him off. "I like you, too."

"In that same way?" Toby glanced at you hopefully.

"Yes. In that same lovey kind of way." You repeated his words with a smile on your face.

Toby's entire face lit up with joy as he pulled you in close for a hug and maybe a kiss.

~~

"Guess things worked out for old Toby after all." BEN mentioned to Hoodie after the two of you announced to the mansion later that day that you were together.

"I guess they did." Hoodie commented. 

"What about the whole Jeff thing, though? He never mentioned anything to me, and I'm his best friend, and then you practically body-slammed me earlier when I was talking about it." BEN turned to face Hoodie.

"Oh, I made that all up." Hoodie said casually taking a sip of the drink he was holding.

"What? Dude, why?" BEN shook his head in confusion.

"Because," Hoodie began as he looked across the room at the happy new couple, "he would never have told her otherwise if I didn't give him just a little push."  

#🪓 #🐦🎶 #🐦 dancing parrot anon #💖 requests #creepypasta scenarios #🎀 scenarios #🪓 toby rogers 🪓 #ticci toby #toby rogers #creepypasta toby rogers 🪓 #toby rogers x reader #🪓 ticci toby 🪓 #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta #spookybreadstick

[ahookedheroespureheart]

I guess I'm kinda getting back into my Tumblr. I'm normally more active on my IG

https://instagram.com/poetgurl85

But I figured I'd do a quick about me :

Fandoms & Interests include :

Marvel

DC

Star Wars

Doctor Who

Star Trek

Musicals

Poetry

St Louis Cardinals

Tarot

Animals

Tom Hiddleston

Oscar Issac

Music of all kinds

Im a double lung transplant recipient & Survivor & will be celebrating 5 yrs post surgery on May 22nd

I'm an Taurus ♉

ENFJ

Ennegram 2

Earth Sign

I love deeply & often feel like an 'old soul'

I love talking & conversing about music & poetry.

British accents are a turn on. (even the fake ones)

I love to get lost in a beautiful pair of eyes & people have told me i have this ability to sense what their feeling.

I guess you could say I'm a bit empathic,which can be a blessing & a curse since I have a habit of putting others before myself.

Sometimes I have to take a breath while I take everything in. Sometimes my head can be overwhelming. The world is a beautiful,maddening place isn't it?

Sometimes I feel like the main character in my life,other times I've felt like a lost princess trapped in a deep sleep & waiting to be rescued with a kiss.

But you realize.. The prince isn't coming. You have to be the one to unlock your mind because you have a box of tools that have been at your disposal to use but you've been too damn stubborn to use them.

That's kinda what it feels like for me at least with having a mental illness,Bi polar & anxiety.

Knowing I'm living on borrowed time. That one day my donor lungs will fail me.

I've beaten the odds already.

5 yr survival rate of most transplants are 50%.

HALF. Everyone else goes into organ rejection.

I could go on & say 'why me?'. Why have so many others died before the 5 yr mark & not me.

But I won't. As I finish up these random thoughts,I'll end with this.

'Your reason and your passion are the rudder and the sails of your seafaring soul.

For reason, ruling alone, is a force confining; and passion, unattended, is a flame that burns to its own destruction.

Therefore let your soul exalt your reason to the height of passion, that it may sing;

And let it direct your passion with reason, that your passion may livethrough its own daily resurrection, and like the phoenix rise above its own ashes.

And since you are a breath in God’s sphere, and a leaf in God’s forest, you too should rest in reason and move in passion.

Khalil Gibran, The Prophet

Oh! One last thing :Moon Knight is such a fascinating show. I'm loving how we're getting into the more supernatural/magic/mythology type stories in the MCU.

Really hoping to see Moonknight/Black Knight /Blade & Dr Strange form a version of The Midnight Sons. I will manifest that shit. Cmon Feige DO IT.

Also Oscar Issac's change from Stephen to Marc fronting. Wow. You know the scene from episode 3. Just the instant change of his demeanor. Wow

I will never truely know what it's like to have D.I.D. but I can emphasize with that feeling of always wanting connection. Feeling misunderstood.

Looking forward to the final 3 episodes.

#moon knight #marc spector #steven grant #marvel #about me

[sweaterkittensahoy]

Mystrade meets MarMan. Maybe there's a diplomatic incident. Maybe Donna and Anthea avert it. Maybe they cause it. Who knows?

[The NOISE I made when this landed in my inbox. Holy shit.]

Josh spots him the second he walks into the ballroom of the Embassy. He's in a tux same as everyone else, but his energy is different than anyone else in the room. He's looser, seemingly amused to be at a white tie event but not seeming out of place in the least.

"Psst," Josh says to get Donna's attention away from the mini cherry pie she's communing with. "Two o'clock. Silver fox with the serious tan. Recognize him?"

Donna gives the guy a quick look, then shakes her head, mouth still full of pie filling. She does a finger waggle that means she has a theory. Josh waits her out and helps by stealing one of the mini-pies off her plate.

"Hey," she hisses, then swallows. "You already have four in the kitchen!"

"That was an hour ago," Josh replies around a mouthful of tiny pie. "Anyway, Mr. Two o'clock."

"Gotta be English because we know all the Americans."

"Good point. Where's John?"

"Bernice kidnapped him for a meeting."

Josh sighs. "He leaves me alone at these things all the time."

Donna gives him a mock pout. "I know."

"Just walks away like I'm nothing more than arm candy."

"You're so much more."

"I just don't know how I can keep this marriage going."

Donna's conciliatory pat on the arm is beautifully melodramatic in its slow motion tap. "Oh, I know it's hard, but think of the life you lead."

There's a snort, then a laugh, quiet but honest. John turns away from faking large, sad eyes at Donna and finds himself face-to-face with Mr. Two o'clock.

"Sorry to interrupt," the man says. He is, as Donna guessed, English. And Josh's brain--thanks to John's many explanations on the subject--pings his accent as East End London. "But I think I may have a part in this."

"Oh?" Donna asks, eyes lighting up at the idea of someone else having actual fun at one of these galas.

"You're Josh Lyman, right?" Mr. Two o'clock says. "And you're Donna Moss?"

"I am, but people don't usually know that," Donna says.

The man grins, looking delighted. "Let me guess. You're just an assistant to this lot here who think that doesn't mean you're the one actually saving the world?"

"I want my job title changed immediately," Donna says to Josh.

"Sure," Josh agrees. "Come up with whatever you want. I'll co-sign."

"World saver," Donna says with exaggerated reverence.

Mr. Two o'clock laughs. "I like it, though you might have to license it from Anthea. Think it was--"

"ANTHEA?!" Donna yelps. She grabs Josh's arm, her nails digging into his forearm through his jacket and shirt.

"CLAWS." Josh shouts.

"You were briefed by Anthea?" Donna asks.

The man beams. "I was. She's the best."

"Oh my god." Donna turns to Josh. "And you said John got stolen for a meeting."

Josh manages to twist his arm loose from Donna's grasp. "Yeah. Like always."

"No, Joshua, not like always." Donna's eyes have that gleam that means her entire week has just been made. "Because if this man--" she gestures to Mr. Two o'clock, who gives a little wave, "was briefed by Anthea, and he's standing here alone talking to us, that means John's locked in a meeting with Mycroft Holmes."

It takes Josh a moment to catch up with Donna's thinking. His jaw drops. "Wait," he says. He looks at Mr. Two o'clock. "You're Greg Lestrade," he says.

"In the flesh," the man says.

"You don't look anything like your official photo."

Greg Lestrade rolls his eyes. "Oi, that thing. Yeah, had to fit it between a double murder investigation and not murdering a police consultant for being a twat. Did my best not to look like I'd been up nineteen hours and contemplating someone's violent death at my own hand, but the lighting in Whitehall didn't do me any favors."

"My embassy ID makes me look like I got arrested for shoplifting beer," John says.

"Beer and the those cheap little cigars," Donna says.

Greg chuckles. "Well, we're in good company then. And since both our husbands are locked in a room plotting world domination, we should keep each other company."

"Works for me. I'm out of politics except for seating charts. I just show up so Donna can steal pastries."

"It's not stealing when you're invited," Donna says. "Also, did Anthea come with you? Can I meet her?"

"Happy to introduce you," Greg says at the same time Josh says, "How do you even know who she is?"

Donna gives Josh a long-suffering look. "Joshua. She is the long-standing personal assistant to Mycroft Holmes. Bernice says he basically runs the British government."

Josh scoffs. "What? He's a minor minister in Transportation. Something with the traffic cameras. I've read the info sheet." He turns to Greg. "No offense. Work's work. But back me up here. You're married to the man."

Greg shrugs and looks around with a studied nonchalance. "We don't really talk about his work. It's...boring."

Josh's eyes narrow. "Donna, has my husband been actually having world domination meetings and not telling me?"

"Yes, Joshua."

"Okay, I'm serious about this divorce thing now. Draft the papers. I want the estate in Sussex."

"Oh, I like Sussex. Mind if I pop by for a visit?" Greg asks.

Josh laughs. "Sure," he says. "But bring Anthea or Donna will murder me and take the estate herself."

"I deserve a nice place to retire," Donna replies.

"Fair," Greg agrees.

#fic #fic prompt #mystrade #sorry the spouses are off-camera #but world domination meetings are important #josh lyman #donna moss #greg lestrade #marman

[amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines]

Riverdale//without you i’d be nothing

Request: Reader plays a Northsider River Vixen on Riverdale and when the show’s on hiatus the cast takes a trip to New Orleans and her boyfriend Douglas Booth invites them to see him film a scene as Nikki Sixx for the Netflix movie The Dirt and he and reader are super cute after he finishes the scene and the cast totally ships them. The scene is from the YouTube video The Dirt - Shout at the Devil/with backstage (Turkish subtitle). Nikki’s bass guitar in the opening of the scene is really cool.

hey! i really hope you like this!! and i also hope you’re having a good day! 

“Hey guys! It’s me, Madelaine and welcome to the last day of shooting before our hiatus!” Madelaine beams into the camera and you lift your head up from your phone to watch her talk excitedly at the camera. 

“I’m sort of sad because I’m gonna miss all of these.” She does a twirl to show off the rest of the cast sat waiting to start filming and they all take a break from talking to wave and smile at the camera. “But I am very excited for the break. Plus, we won’t really be away from each other for long because in a few days we’re going on holiday!! Aren’t we guys!” She asks and zooms in on Charles while he scrolls through his phone. 

“Huh?” He asks when he feels everyone looking at him. You all stifle a laugh before looking back at Madelaine again. 

“Okay, let’s see what everyone is doing.” She smiles playfully and wiggles her eyebrows before flipping the camera and choosing who to annoy first. “KJ. What are you doing?” 

“Eating.” He replies through a mouthful of food before glaring at the red-head. 

“Vanessa?” 

“Ignoring you.” She replies, not bothering to look up from her phone. 

“You know, you all think that Vanessa is lovely, but this is what I have to put up with.” Madelaine frowns. “What about you Y/n?” She asks and you glance at her before sending your text. 

“She’s texting her boyfriend.” Jordan teases as he looks over your shoulder and you roll your eyes at his childishness. “Aww, they’re sending each other kisses. And now she’s opening Instagram and liking a picture of him-wait, that’s not his real hair is it?” He asks and you send him a look. 

“Of course not.” You laugh. “It’s his costume, for the Mötley Crüe movie.” 

“Ohh.” He replies. “Okay.” He starts again, faking a British accent and you roll your eyes again. “Now, she is liking the photo of her boyfriend and his cast members. She’s typing something and now she’s going into her notes and typing something else. It’s for me, and it says Jordan...fuck off.” He trails off and a playful pout replaces his smile. 

“Somebody please send help.” Madelaine deadpans as she flips the camera back. “I’m gonna have to put up with all of this for another week.” 

“Holy shit.” Madelaine mouths as she shoves the camera in her backpack. The rest of the cast are just as mesmerised with the stage set up in front of them. 

The stage is more light than actual stage and for a while you can’t really decipher between the lights and the many, many speakers they have. Four microphones are dotted around the black stage, just waiting for sound. The guitar amps wait to be plugged in and you remember watching Douglas walk in and out of your bedroom as he tried to master the way Nickki Sixx would walk on stage. Tommy Lee’s drum sits at the back of the stage and the pentagram really brings the whole dark aesthetic together. 

It genuinely looks like one of their shows. After Doug was offered the role, the two of you sat and watched countless videos of their shows together, just so he could really get into his role.

Normally you’d join them in staring wide-eyed at the bright set, but you’re too excited to see Doug that you can barely take in anything surrounding you other than him. Your eyes scan the countless people passing by. Crew members carrying large speakers and microphones back and forth, and hundreds of extra’s mill about around you, making you feel like you’ve just walked through a time machine. 

You feel eyes on you and it’s only when you look back at them do you realize you were bouncing slightly. 

“Be cool.” Jordan shakes his head and you flip him off making him feign offence. 

“Can I help you guys?” A woman asks and you quickly direct your attention to her. 

“Hi!” You beam. “Douglas Booth invited us to watch him. He said he got the okay from the director. I’m Y/n, his girlfriend. Nice to meet you!” You smile and stick your hand out in front of her. She blinks, trying to process what you’ve just said in the short space of time before a small smile twitches at her lips and she introduces herself. 

“I’m Amy.” She replies. “And I’ve heard a lot about you. It’s nice to finally meet you in person instead of being shown countless of pictures of you.” She teases and your cheeks heat up.

Cami and Lili share a look before nudging you and you stare at the floor, too embarrassed to look at them again. 

“Come with me.” She tells the rest of the group. “And help yourself to snacks and drinks.” She says and everyone’s head’s perk up at the mention of food. “We’re just about to film, they’re putting the final touches to everything, but if I see Doug I’ll let him know you’re here.” 

“Thank you!” You grin and sit down. Behind the camera’s are a bunch of seats, none of which match and it’s a race between the ten of you to get the comfiest seats first. It ends in KJ and Casey standing and they grumble quietly to each other while the rest of you smile sarcastically back at them. 

“Okay. Quiet on set!” Someone shouts and you stand up to crane your neck over the camera’s. For a second everything’s quiet, and then the lights go up and everyone screams. 

“Ladies and Gentlemen, from Los Angeles, Mötley Crüe!”

Douglas looks out into the crowd and your sure he’s seen you, despite the room full of people. Then the lights come up and the spark machines go off leaving all you to stare in awe at what is happening. 

The sound of drums pound along with your heart while you watch your boyfriend transform into somebody else in front of your very eyes. He strums the guitar in time and hops backwards while looking out into the darkened crowd and you follow his gaze, wanting to see what he’s seeing. 

You watch as the camera zooms in on Douglas’ strumming and you nudge Cami excitledy as you point proudly at him. She stifles a laugh before the two of you continuing watching. 

“Title track is from our up and coming album. We call it ‘Shout At The Devil’” Danny shouts and the crowd goes wild. The camera zooms in on Iwan playing guitar.  

‘Shout, shout, shout!” They sing, the camera zooming into each of them, focusing longer on Colson as he twirls the drum sticks around in his fingers.  “Shout, shout, shout! Shout at the devil.” Danny kicks his leg out and does a spin before starting to sing again and you can’t believe what you’re seeing. 

They all look so cool! Especially Douglas and you can understand why bands back in the day had so many groupies if they did stuff like this on the stage. The atmosphere is electric and it’s not even a real concert, so you can only dream of what it would feel like to be at a real one.  “He's the wolf screaming lonely in the night. He's the blood stain on the stage.” Danny points out into the crowd and you hear a few screams and squeals making you laugh. “He's the tear in your eye. Been tempted by his lie.” Douglas rocks back and forth, and despite your earlier teasing through texts about the wig, it does look good when he’s up there head banging. “He's the knife in your back, he's rage!” Colson raises a hand in the air before banging the drums again. 

Danny leans forward, his voice going up an octave and you watch impressed. “He's the razor to the knife. Oh, lonely is our lives. My head's spinning 'round and 'round.” He points out into the crowd again and you catch Pete Davidson’s eye. 

Colson throws a drumstick in the air again before drumming, and you don’t know where to look anymore. There’s so many incredible things happening and you wish you could film this or take a picture or something so you can remember. It’s going to be amazing when you see it in the actual film, but to see it being recorded in real life, that’s something you don’t think any movie theatre will be able to live up to. 

“But in the seasons of wither, we'll stand and deliver. Be strong and laugh and-” 

“Shout, shout, shout. Shout at the devil! Shout, shout, shout!” Flames erupt from the stage during each beat and all ten of your eyes widen when you see someone flash the band. They head bang and jump around and your eyes widen each second that passes. 

But it’s over far sooner than you’d like it to be. You could spent forever watching your boyfriend pretend to be a famous rockstar, and you’re surprised at how at home he looks up on stage. 

The band shout and cheer, before the director shouts cut and they suddenly all erupt into laughter. Douglas and Iwan high five before they disappear off stage and previously still crew members start moving again. They hurry past you, with props, costumes and coffee in hand. 

And you wait excitedly for Douglas to appear. 

“So, we’re on the set of a super important Netflix movie. We’ve just watched them film literally the best thing ever. Like I have goosebumps, look. Anyway, I’m not gonna show you much, but I am going to show you this.” Madelaine whispers, a soft smile lighting up her face before she flips the camera and zooms in on you and Douglas. 

You wrap your arms around him and he picks you up, twirling you around making you squeal. He puts you back on the floor and wastes no time in capturing your lips in a kiss. You’ve been waiting months to kiss him again and it was definitely worth it, even if he is wearing that ridiculously large wig. 

“I’ve missed you so much baby.” You mumble against his lips. 

“Me too.” He replies and kisses you again. 

Madelaine flips the camera back to her and she pouts in response to how cute the two of you are. 

“She hasn’t shut up about him since he invited us out here.” She says and rolls her eyes. “It’s been the only thing we’ve heard. Hasn’t it V?” She asks the shorter girl as she walks behind her. 

“What?” Vanessa asks and takes a sip of the coffee Cole stole for her from the snack table. 

“Y/n and Doug.” It’s only three words, but it sets Vanessa off into a whole ramble about how excited you’ve been to see him. 

“It’s a good job they’re cute.” She replies making Vanessa giggle and the two of them watch as you and Doug catch up with each other. You move his wig from his face and he smiles thankfully, before kissing your cheek. “Something that isn’t cute though is these two.” Madelaine interrupts her own vlog by swapping the camera again and zooming in on Jordan and Drew taking pictures of each other with badly put on wigs. 

Her and Vanessa shake their head and watch as they laugh loudly and try to knock the other ones off their head. However their laughter soon dies down when a crew member comes over and scolds them for tampering with props, and now it’s Vanessa and Madelaine’s’s turn to laugh. 

“I can’t wait for the internet to see that.” Vanessa giggles before sending a disapproving look at the two men now pouting sadly in the corner. 

“Knowing them, it’ll just make more people love them.” Madelaine rolls her eyes. She turns the camera off and lets Vanessa lead her to where the majority of the cast are. 

“Hi guys.” Douglas introduces himself nervously and the conversations slowly die out. You stand beside Doug, your hand in his to keep him calm and a reassuring smile on your face. 

He’s never normally nervous when meeting new people, however he’s only ever met a few of these people a handful of times and he knows how important they are to you so he wants to make the best impression he possibly can. 

Although, you’re pretty sure he already has done with that they’ve just watched. You’re sure that could turn even the most cynical and hard to impress people, so you’re not worried. 

“Hi!” They all reply, each of them moving to shake his hand first. 

“Can I just say, that was great. I’ve never seen anything like it!” Drew gushes and Doug waves him off bashfully. 

“Seriously. Y/n is very lucky.” Jordan replies making you shove him lightly. 

“I’m definitely the lucky one.” Doug replies and kisses you gently. Your friends roll their eyes and gag in response, but you know they’re doing it out of love. 

“So, how are you all enjoying New Orleans?” He changes the subject.

“We haven’t really seen much of it. We got here yesterday and we spent the majority of it sleeping.” Casey explains making him frown. 

“Why don’t we go sightseeing.” He smiles. “Before you guys get kicked out.” He adds and looks at Jordan and Drew who smile back awkwardly. 

“You guys go ahead.” You interrupt. “We’ll catch up with you.” 

“Ooo.” KJ teases and you flip him off making him laugh loudly. “Get out.” You shove him and Lili grabs his arm pulling him towards the exit. The rest of the gang follow until it’s just you and Doug standing in an empty room. You’re only company is the very large snack table and various chairs dotted around the room. 

“I’ve missed you so fucking much.” You admit and wrap him into a tight hug. He wheezes at the force but hugs you back and warmth fills your chest. “You were also amazing up there. I mean, it was like I was at a proper concert!” You ramble proudly and he rolls his eyes. “You are so talented.” 

“Nah.” He shakes his head and you send him a glare. “It was all you, you’re my good luck charm.” 

---

March 18, 2019, ArcLight, Hollywood. 

The fabric of your dress, bunches and un-bunches in your clammy palm. The pale blue silk is soft against your skin and it’s quite a comforting feeling, it’s good to know that you can still feel something, even if the rest of you does feel numb. 

Camera’s flash outside the tinted windows of the black car, and you can hear hundreds of people shouting and screaming. The last time you were at a movie premiere, it didn’t feel anything like this, and it’s not even your movie. You wonder if you maybe need to do more than two acting jobs to get used to stuff like this, maybe you never get used to it. 

The more you think of it, the weirder it feels. All of those people lining the streets and wanting to take pictures of you. Riverdale premiers feel a whole lot less scary than movie ones. You thought it was because you always have your friends around you, or maybe because you’ve been to every single one of them since the show started, you kind of know what to expect as they’re all the same. 

But then you glance at Doug and you feel a whole new set of nerves creep up on you. He looks so good in his suit, and you watch his fingers tap anxiously against his knee as the two of you wait for the door to opened. 

Maybe you’re more nervous because it’s him. You have no reason to be though, the small part that you saw being filmed was amazing, and if the whole film is like that, then he’s got nothing to worry about. But you know he’s nervous and maybe that’s what’s making you feel the same. 

“Doug?” You place a gentle hand over his, stilling the movements of his fingers and he looks back at you, his expression softening as he takes you in. 

“You look beautiful.” He smiles and presses a kiss to the back of your hand. 

“You don’t look so bad yourself.” You reply and he rolls his eyes. “Are you okay?” You ask and the question seems to take him by surprise.

“Yeah-I. Why wouldn’t I be?” He stutters and you send him a look. He knows you can read him like a book, it’s something you seemed to have mastered by the first day you met him. 

“You just seem a little nervous.” You shrug and give his hand a squeeze. 

“I’m okay.” He shakes his head. “Maybe just a little bit. But nerves are good.” He finishes and you look at him unsure. “Why? Are you nervous?” 

“A little bit.” You admit and drop his gaze. His finger hooks under your chin and pulls it up again so you can look at him. His hazel eyes seem to see straight through you and the way he’s looking at you makes your heartbeat increase. For a few seconds, it just feels like the two of you sitting in the tiny cab. 

The rest of the world disappears, it’s just you and him, and that’s all you could ever really need.  

“Come on, you’ve done scarier things. Remember when you found out you had to do that British accent. I’m pretty sure you told me, you’d considered dropping out of the film.” He says and you nod your head. 

“I suppose, yeah.” You agree. “That was very nerve-racking. Especially when I had to do it in front of the cutest British boy I’d ever met.” You add and he rolls his eyes playfully. The two of you giggle quietly to yourselves

“We’re ready for you.” A tall man dressed all in black tells you once opening the door. You look at Doug and the two of you take a deep breath. 

“Are you ready?” You ask and he nods slowly. 

“As I’ll ever be.” He grins and you mirror it. The nerves turning to excitement when you think about how proud you are of him. “Wait!” He shouts and you freeze, dropping your purse in fright. “Sorry.” He apologises awkwardly and you roll your eyes at him. “I just wanted to get a picture with you before we’re both whisked off by our adorning fans. I want to show off how lucky I am, and I want Danny to see what he’s missing.”

“Where did you say he was again?” 

“He’s off filming some other film. But I think he did a video message or something, basically thanking everyone.” He replies. 

“Oh, that’s sweet.” You nod. “Anyway, adorning fans?” You repeat and he nods, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “You know this is a premier for a film that you’re in right? I’ve got nothing to do with this.” 

“One. We all know that the majority of the people here, are here for you because they just assume you’re coming with me.” 

“They assumed correctly.” You nod and cross your arms. You raise an eyebrow as you wait for him to continue with this point that you know is going to be stupid. 

“And two. You have everything to do with this.” He says and your roll your eyes, pushing him bashfully. “I’m being serious Y/n.” He says, making you look at him. “If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t have had the confidence to say yes to all the offers I got, I wouldn’t have been able to recover from the many no’s. I wouldn’t have been able to learn my scripts and come to you for advice and support and just for a hug. This has everything to do with you, and the way you looked at me when you watched me film, gave me all the confidence I needed to keep going, even when the hours were long and I missed you like crazy.” 

“Douglas Booth, you’re going to make me cry and my makeup is perfect.” 

“And you look beautiful.” He replies and wipes a stray tear away. A curl falls in front of your face and he tucks it behind your ear, his fingers leaving a trail of heat along your jawline. “I love you.” 

“I love you too.” You laugh and wipe away another tear. 

He gives you one last smile before grabbing your hand. You step out of the cab and into the bright flashing lights and the overwhelming sound of your names being shouted. He looks back at you, concern growing in his eyes but you grin back at him and he mirrors it. 

The two of you make your way up the red carpet, posing together and separately as people shout your name from all angles. The camera’s always disorient you, but as soon as you’re back beside Douglas and he wraps an arm around you waist, you feel yourself become more comfortable with the sheer amount of press. 

Douglas talks to a few of his co-stars and you take the few minutes of zero attention to really take in the moment. There’s so many people here, all of them to see your talented boyfriend and his friends and you feel like your heart is going to burst with pride. 

Your gaze catches Jordan, Drew and KJ, all three of which are staring wide eyed as the real Mötley Crüe walk the red carpet. You watch as they try their hardest not to implode and a chuckle escapes your lips when they finally realize that you’re watching them. 

“Holy shit!” Jordan mouths and you roll your eyes. Drew points awkwardly at them and KJ makes small talk with Tommy Lee before he stares at you in shock. 

“Be cool!” You mouth back and roll your eyes at your friends. The three of them just stare back at you in shock before they notice Vanessa and Madelaine having a full on conversation with all four members. 

It looks like they’ve just bumped into each at the grocery store with the way they’re talking to each other, and even you must look a little surprised. 

“I’ve seen you’re show!” Nikki says and your jaw drops. “It’s fucking weird.” He adds making the girls laugh. 

“Yeah.” Madelaine nods. “It sure is.” She adds before they walk away to get their pictures taken. Madelaine and Vanessa stare at each other, frozen for a few seconds before they grab each others arms and squeal. 

“Your friends sure are weird.” Vince says and it takes you a few seconds to realise he’s talking to you. 

“Oh yeah. There are.” You laugh awkwardly and the rest of the band greet you. You take a second to glance back at your friends who are all staring at you with varying degrees of shock on their face. 

“Are you ready to go in?” Doug pulls your attention away from the silent conversation you’re trying to have with Vanessa, and a soft smile graces your lips. 

“More than ready.” You nod excitedly. “I’m so proud of you baby.” You whisper in his ear and a blush creeps up his neck. 

“Not as proud as I am of you.” He replies and nudges your arm. The two of you take a deep breath before stepping through the door, ready for whatever adventure is waiting for you next. 

support my writing! if you want! 

#riverdale #riverdale imagine #lili reinhart #cole sprouse #camila mendes #kj apa #vanessa morgan #madelaine petsch #casey cott #jordan connor #drew ray tanner #charles melton

[rebeccatherine]

Reconnaissance

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Marvel Rating: Mature Characters: Sharon Carter (Marvel), Sam Wilson (Marvel), Arthur Parks Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Espionage Summary: Sam Wilson accompanies Sharon Carter on an undercover SHIELD mission.

Read on AO3 under the pseud rebeccavis or below.

Sam had offered to sleep on the floor. He said he was used to it from his days in the military, which Sharon understood; Steve had mentioned to her offhandedly before that his bed never felt quite right. However, on this occasion the bed was probably the safest place for both of them. As she had pointed out to Sam, they had a clear view of the window from there should they need it and, if anyone decided to check in on them, it would look a little strange for a doting wife to be alone in a king-size bed. Sam, after looking horrified by the notion of someone spying on him while he was asleep, eventually conceded. 

“Sorry.” Sam’s whisper had been preceded by the sound of something soft hitting the floor. “Why do they give you so many dang pillows?”

Sharon chuckled. “I don’t know,” she admitted, “Rich people shit?”

Their backs were turned to each other and, even if they hadn’t been, Sharon doubted she’d be able to see much of anything in the darkness of their isolated cabin. She heard a soft rumble from next to her, though, and could see Sam smiling in her head. “Rich people shit,” he agreed.

Sharon supposed she was meant to go to sleep now. While she hadn’t served in the military, she’d had her fair share of sleeping in strange places as a SHIELD agent, many of which had been far less comfortable than where she was at the moment. Even so, this was maybe the first time she was worried about having trouble drifting off. Her mind was usually where she felt it should be: focused on the job and what steps she needed to take to ensure its success, including getting a good night’s sleep. Tonight, her mind was for some reason lingering on terms of endearment, unexpected compliments and arms wrapped tenderly around her waist. 

She felt Sam’s weight shift slowly next to her and suspected he was turning over onto his other side. It was something she had been thinking about, too, although now it meant they’d be face to face, which would be weird. Or would it? She settled for rolling over onto her back instead to stare at the ceiling. Her eyes were starting to adjust to the darkness, and she could just about trace the outline of the wooden beams above her head.

“Hey, Shar?” Sam’s voice was soft, but so unexpected that she froze for a split second. “Can we talk?”

*

“Sam? Is my purse out there?” Sharon had raised her voice a little, hoping she’d be heard from outside the bathroom where she was putting on her makeup. 

“Uh...yeah, I see it, baby,” she heard Sam reply, emphasizing his last word significantly more than was necessary, “Do you need it?”

“Oh, I think I left something in there, but I can…” Sharon trailed off as she heard footsteps in her direction and then a gentle rap on the door she hadn’t bothered to lock. “You can come in. I’m almost done.”

The door opened with a click and Sam stepped in, offering up a smile as his eyes met hers. She could tell there was a slight nervousness to his expression, at odds with how comfortably the bespoke dark suit he was wearing fit him.  

“Almost, huh?” he said, his tone playful.

“Wouldn’t want to forget my lipstick,” Sharon explained, reaching over to take her small silver clutch from his hand, “Thanks.”

“Yeah, you’d look terrible without it,” Sam teased, to which Sharon chuckled. 

Having reclaimed the missing item from her purse, Sharon turned back towards the mirror to apply the deep red shade to her lips. It reminded her of the colors her aunt had always been fond of wearing, perhaps even more so because, like her aunt once had, she was currently sporting brunette shoulder-length curls. Her dress, on the other hand - red, full-length, with a front slit and a mostly open back - was probably something Peggy would not have opted for unless she had also been undercover.  

“Just to be clear - you look amazing, Shar.” She glanced over her shoulder at the sound of Sam’s words, then directed a grin at him.

“So we’re not going with ‘baby’?” she asked. 

Sam’s brow furrowed. “Damn it.”

“It’s OK, you don’t have to worry. While you were out I put a bug killer in one of the lamps by the bed, so nobody’s listening in on us,” Sharon assured him as she turned around, “It’s good to get some practice, though.”

“I just thought ‘baby’ would be easier,” Sam explained, “I’m worried I’m going to forget to call you by your cover name.”

“‘Baby’ works great. I’ll go with it, too.” Sharon gave a nod to indicate she was ready to go, then emerged with Sam into the bedroom. “Look, I know this undercover stuff isn’t exactly your thing, but I promise you’re in safe hands,” she added, “Besides, it’s not like you have to put on a British accent or anything.”

“Thank God,” Sam noted, “I bet you can do a great British accent. You have family from there, right?”

“Yeah, that’s an easy one for me. My grandfather’s whole side of the family is British.”

“Did they teach you any fun British slang?”

“Plenty, but I’m pretty sure it’s all from the fifties so I’m totally out of date.” Sharon gave a small shrug of her shoulders. “You know my aunt used to call me ‘Shaz’ sometimes?”

“Shaz?” Sam echoed. His eyebrows raised as he shot an endearing glance at her, clearly entertained by the idea. “That’s amazing. Can I call you ‘Shaz’?”

“Absolutely not,” Sharon replied, though she kept her tone light.

“Noted. Although I make no promises after this mission is over and I’ve found the nearest place where I can get a daiquiri,” Sam noted, “You don’t have to join me, though.”

“Maybe I’d be OK with it under those circumstances,” Sharon conceded with a smile, “I do like ‘Shar’, though.”

Sam looked pleased with himself. He made his way over to the bed to pick up Sharon’s coat, which he offered to her. “Trust me, I’ve worked with you enough and heard enough to know I’m in the safest of hands,” he affirmed, “I just don’t want to get in your way. Do the photos look good?”

“Oh, yeah, they’re perfect. All you need to do is distract Parks and I know exactly where I need to go,” Sharon slipped her arms into the outstretched garment, shrugging it over her shoulders and gently tugging her hair out from underneath it. “Tell Redwing I said thanks.” 

“I will,” Sam replied after a small pause, “So we’re in, we talk to the party guests for a bit, you go download the files, and we’re out. Pretty straightforward apart from the fact that our ride isn’t coming until tomorrow morning.”

“So unlike Maria to not come pick up her friends after a party, but what can you do?” Sharon joked, “I think we’ll be OK to spend the night in our luxury log cabin.”

“I can always take the floor,” Sam said. 

“We can talk about that later. Let me give you your comm.” Sharon’s purse didn’t have room for much besides her lipstick and some cash, but the communication devices - one of which she handed to Sam - barely took up any space at all. “Is there anything else we need to go over?”

“I don’t think so. I’m glad we have these,” Sam admitted, then something seemed to occur to him, “Oh, I was going to ask you about ground rules. I wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable, but I know we’re supposed to be married...I guess I don’t know how this usually works.”

“When we’re in the field pretending to be a couple we tend not to go overboard on public displays of affection unless the intention is to make someone else feel uncomfortable. Honestly, though, I wouldn’t worry too much about it. I trust you.” Sharon exchanged a small smile with him, and was glad to see he looked a little relieved. 

“Alright, then, Mrs. Dixon. Let’s go.” Sam offered up his arm, which Sharon took as they made their way down the wooden staircase to the living room. “This is some really weird rich people shit, you know. What kind of person owns what looks like an English mansion in upstate New York and makes his friends hire out nearby log cabins with no cellphone service just to attend his party?”

Sharon laughed, partly because it sounded a lot like something Tony Stark might do. “I’m glad you got that off your chest,” she commented, “And you’re right. Unfortunately, tonight I think we’re going to have to deal with a lot of rich people shit.”

*

“Name?” The man at the entrance to the mansion was dressed as a butler and peering at Sam as if he was a curiosity, which gave Sharon a strong urge to kick him in the face with one of her high heels. 

“Dixon. Sean Dixon,” Sam told him with a confidence that meant Sharon didn’t have to force a smile. She gave his arm an affectionate squeeze, having kept her own wrapped around it for most of the drive over.

“Ah, yes, and you must be the lovely Cherie Dixon.” The butler pronounced her name with a perfect French accent, so Sharon naturally had to correct him.

“Oh, it’s ‘Sherry’, but believe me, if I could say it your way I would,” she declared. The giggle she gave along with her words was fake but well-practiced, unlike the smile the butler gave her in return which was simply fake.  

“If you would be so kind as to step into our testing area,” the butler instructed them. 

Sharon gave a small nod which Sam mirrored, and the two of them made their way inside. Out of the corner of her eye, Sharon noticed that their ride - a chauffeured limousine that had been provided by the owner of the mansion - was still waiting in the extended driveway. She wondered what instructions the chauffeur had been given should she and/or Sam turn out to be mutants.

They had both been briefed early on that the party had a strict policy against mutants attending. It wasn’t a particularly new development; there were many, particularly those in power, who didn’t like that mutants could often hide in plain sight unlike most of the Avengers. What wasn’t clear, however, was how such policies were being enforced, and that was one of the things she and Sam had been tasked with finding out.

“Please give me your left index finger.” Sharon had been ushered along with Sam through the first door on the left, where a line of men and women dressed as old-fashioned footmen and maids were holding anachronistic devices that were roughly the same shape as a large calculator. She glanced at Sam, who just barely raised his eyebrows, then turned to the woman who had addressed her. 

“Here you go,” she said, letting go of her companion’s arm to present her left hand to what she assumed was a lab technician-turned-maid. The woman clearly didn’t have much in the way of bedside manner, as she pricked Sharon’s finger with a needle without so much as a warning. She then instructed her to press the small drop of blood to a pad on the device she was holding, where a bright light shone behind Sharon’s finger before she received a reading. 

“NO X-GENE DETECTED,” the screen flashed. 

“Is that good?” Sharon asked, her eyes wide.

The woman who had tested her all but rolled her eyes. “Yeah. That’s good,” she said, then turning to Sam, “You’re up next.”

Sharon’s eyes darted around to the other would-be house staff while Sam was similarly tested for his lack of a mutant gene. The devices they were using were unfamiliar to her, and she could almost make out a logo on the back of them but not quite. For now, she just made a mental note to try to steal one of the devices before they left the mansion for the night. 

“NO X-GENE DETECTED,” the screen flashed again, and Sam was also cleared to go out the door and back into the foyer.

“I feel like she drew way more blood than she needed to,” Sharon remarked, shaking her head. The needle prick didn’t really bother her at all and she’d had far worse injuries in the field, but Sam had been very quiet so far and it was starting to unnerve her how differently he was acting compared to his usual self. She hoped that she might be able to help him relax by drawing him into a conversation. 

“Oh, yeah?” Sam’s response wasn’t very encouraging but he did offer her his hand, which she took. 

“Maybe she was just jealous,” Sharon mused playfully. Sam had taken her hand in both of his and gently turned it over. “What are you doing?”

“Just surveying the damage,” Sam said with a hint of a smile, “You think she was jealous of your ring?”

Sharon had managed to almost forget about the 2 carat, heart-shaped engagement ring and matching wedding ring on her left finger. Sam clearly hadn’t, though, and she was glad he seemed to be settling into his role. “I think she was jealous of my gorgeous husband,” she replied, “You do look very good in that suit, baby.”

“Well, you look good in pretty much everything, baby,” Sam replied. Something about the way he was looking at her took Sharon off guard, and she was surprised to feel the back of her neck grow hot. Sam was apparently a better actor than she had given him credit for.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice coming out quieter than she intended at first. She cleared her throat and then added: “You’ve always known how to compliment a girl.”

“Isn’t that why you married me?” Sam teased. He let go of her hand and offered his arm to her again. 

“One of many reasons,” Sharon replied with a grin. She accepted his offer and then nodded towards an open doorway that led into what appeared to be the living room. “Everyone seems to be heading in there and it looks like they have drinks, so I vote we go check my coat and then we follow,” she suggested. 

“Lead the way, Cherie.” Sam managed a pretty decent impersonation of the butler from earlier, and Sharon laughed.

“Shut up.”

*

“Sher-ee.”

“Sher-ee,” Sharon repeated, butchering the French guttural ‘R’ sound as if she hadn’t had plenty of practice speaking French in her line of work.

“Eh, close enough.” The woman seated in a small, cream-colored armchair across from Sharon and Sam shrugged her shoulders with a smile, tossing her shoulder-length blonde bob. Sharon didn’t know too much about her yet but she did know that her name was Marie, she seemed to speak better French than Sharon did even when she wasn’t pretending, and - most importantly - she was their ticket to the person they were looking for. She seemed younger than Sharon, maybe twenty at most, and eager to make conversation. Sharon had spotted her chatting with the host of the party earlier, and all they needed to do now was get her to lead them to him.

“Didn’t you tell me your name means ‘darling’?” Sam asked, glancing at Sharon. They were sitting on a powder blue couch, his arm resting gently around her shoulders. 

Sharon all but batted her eyelashes. “That’s what my mom always said.”

“Yes, she was correct,” Marie said enthusiastically, “From chérir, to cherish.”

“Like the Madonna song,” Sharon joked. Sam chuckled, but Marie’s blank expression suggested to Sharon she’d been right about the other woman’s age.

“Clearly your mother chose well,” Marie continued, “You make a wonderful couple.”

“Thank you. I feel like I can barely remember what life was like before Sean,” Sharon said, all smiles, “We’re a good team. He makes up for all the things I’m missing.”

“Come on, baby, there isn’t anything you’re missing,” Sam insisted. 

“It’s OK, I know I’m not the smartest cookie in the cookie jar,” Sharon retorted, “But you, on the other hand...I’m telling you, Marie, you’re looking at the world’s next Tony Stark.”

“My wife likes to brag about me,” Sam told Marie, “I also love to hear it, though, so it all works out.”

“So you are interested in technology?” Marie asked.

“I’m working on starting up my own tech company,” Sam explained, “Cherie’s father is an investor and I’m looking for a few more.”

“In that case, you should definitely talk to Arthur if you haven’t yet. I know he’s always looking for new collaborators,” Marie said, “You know the mutant detectors that scanned your blood when you first arrived?”

“So that’s what they were?” Sharon mused out loud.

“Wait, did Parks provide the lasers they use in those?” Sam piped up.

Marie grinned. “Yes. He and Trask are hoping they’ll be able to make them available to the mass market soon.”

“That’s impressive,” Sam said with a nod, “Do you work with him?”

“Oh, no.” Despite Marie’s reply, Sharon could tell she was flattered by the notion that she might be involved in Arthur Parks’s company. Nice going, Sam. “I’ve just known him since I was very young. Arthur’s wife, Lucy, knew my father and when I was growing up he wasn’t around very much...the Parks practically raised me.”

“Well, clearly you’ve picked up a lot from them. I’m around Sean all the time and I still don’t really understand his work,” Sharon said with a laugh.

“I actually had been hoping to get a chance to talk to Mr. Parks. I’ve never met him directly but from talking to friends of his I really think we’d have a lot to offer each other,” Sam affirmed.

“Then allow me to introduce you,” Marie offered, “Trust me, it would be my pleasure.” 

*

“Alright, Sam, I’m in the study. Clear your throat if our friend is suitably distracted.”

Sharon soon heard Sam’s subtle assurance over her comm, although she almost didn’t need it because she could also hear Arthur Parks droning on in the background. She felt relieved that she had only had to stand next to Sam and pretend to be interested in the man’s work for a relatively short time before, as she had expected him to, Parks had invited ‘Sean’ to join him and a couple of other men for a cigar. Sharon had then spent a few minutes in Marie’s company before excusing herself to use the powder room. Her companion had offered to go with her, but Sharon had managed to convince her that she needed some privacy when she implied that she might be taking a pregnancy test. 

“I’ll be as fast as I can and keep you updated. Sorry this has to be a one-way conversation,” Sharon told Sam. 

When she thought about it, there were quite a few things she felt as though she wanted to apologize to Sam for. This wasn’t supposed to be his mission in the first place, for one. The original plan had been for Steve to accompany her, until the discovery that more than a few guests at the party had ties to HYDRA had made it impossible for Steve to go incognito. Sam had the technical expertise to both help in the field and impress Parks, so he had been the natural choice. The world of espionage was far from Sam’s natural environment, though, and even though he’d been doing well so far, Sharon felt a sense of responsibility in making sure nothing happened to him. That feeling was coupled with a decent-sized amount of guilt that she would actually rather be on a mission with Sam than Steve at the moment. 

“I’ve got to admit I’m a little envious of you, Dixon. It sounds like your story’s just starting and you have a world of opportunities ahead of you. I remember when it felt that way for me.”

Sharon rolled her eyes as she took her lipstick out of her purse and popped a concealed flash drive out of the bottom of it. She had little to no sympathy for the plight of someone like Arthur Parks. 

“I do feel very lucky,” Sharon heard Sam’s voice say, “Now, don’t get me wrong, I’ve definitely had to hustle, but the hustle was worth it.”

“Hacking in now,” she informed Sam quietly, the flash drive now inserted into Parks’s personal laptop. 

“Mmmm, and I’m sure having a rich wife can’t have hurt. I wasn’t so lucky.”

Arthur Parks’s use of the word ‘wasn’t’ gave Sharon pause. They hadn’t been given any intel on his marriage having recently fallen apart, although it was a little odd that his wife Lucy didn’t seem to be in attendance at the party.

“A word of advice, Dixon, although it’s probably too late,” Parks continued unprompted, “Always sign a prenup.”

Sam gave what sounded like a slightly nervous laugh. “I don’t think I need to worry about my wife.” Sharon was about to tell him not to be afraid to throw his wife under the metaphorical bus if he needed to, but a third person with an English accent spoke up before she had a chance. 

“I think this one’s a lost cause, Arthur.” Sharon had heard the man introduce himself as Jonathan Wilson a little bit earlier. “You and your wife seem very much in love.”

“I really think it’d be hard not to fall in love with Cher,” Sam declared. Sharon noticed his ‘Cher’ sounded a little close to ‘Shar’, but hopefully nobody else would pick up on it. “I mean, you’ve all seen how beautiful she is but on top of that she’s so...brave, and talented, and just so competent…”

Sharon couldn’t help the smile that crossed her features for a moment, even if it quickly vanished as she realized she was listening to a bout of silence. Either something had gone wrong with the comms or Sam had paused awkwardly mid-sentence and although the latter was preferable, it still wasn’t ideal. 

“...at making me happy, you know what I’m saying?” Sharon heard a few ripples of laughter following Sam’s joke, and she breathed an inaudible sigh of relief. 

“Nice recovery,” she told him, “Alright, I’m in. Just keep doing your thing, but maybe don’t lean into the doting husband role too much. I don’t see so much as a picture of Athur’s wife in his study and it sounds like things got ugly.”

The conversation took more of a business slant again and Sharon was able to relax ever so slightly, continuing to listen while she went through the files on Arthur Parks’s laptop. She had always found it a little ironic that the objective of any given mission, like this, tended to be the easiest part. Getting in and getting out were usually the parts that you had to worry about. 

“Looks like the intel we got was solid. Parks is definitely trying to build himself some kind of team, but I think SHIELD will have to dig deeper to find out what for,” Sharon informed Sam, “I’m copying the list of contacts and his correspondence. Lots of familiar names here, several associated with HYDRA...and Georges Batroc. Interesting.”

“Anyway, I’m sure you’re tired of listening to me by now. Maybe I can get my laptop and show you some photos of all the places Parks lasers have been used. Who knows, I might even give you some ideas about where they haven’t.”

Sharon stiffened as she glanced at the progress bar in the corner of the computer screen. “I’m not done,” she said after hearing Arthur Parks’s words, “Sam, can you stall him?”

“I...think I already have some ideas, actually,” Sharon heard Sam say, “Marie mentioned you were interested in music, and I…”

“Marie thinks she knows a lot more than she actually does,” Parks interrupted, “My wife is the music lover. Not that her taste in music is any good.”

“Marie’s just a kid,” Sam noted softly, “They always think they know a lot.”

“Not that much of a kid.” Arthur Parks’s voice was quieter than before and Sharon was having a hard time hearing him. “It’d be nice if she acted like more of an adult every once in a while.”

“Almost there,” Sharon said to Sam. Her fingers were hovering over the flash drive, ready to retrieve it the moment it was finished copying the files. “Just keep him talking.”

“Well, she has nothing but nice things to say about you and your wife, so it seems like you taught her something,” Sam said, managing to keep his tone jovial, “She said you practically raised her?”

“You seem to be very interested in Marie,” Parks commented. Sharon thought she might have heard the sound of a clinking glass. “Wilson?”

“Yeah?” Sam answered at the exact same time as another voice that Sharon presumed belonged to Jonathan Wilson did. 

Shit. Sharon watched the progress bar creep towards the end far too slowly for her taste as Arthur Parks offered Jonathan Wilson a drink. 

“Sorry. I thought you said Dixon,” Sam said sheepishly.  

“Well, I was also going to ask you a different question,” Parks said, “You a Scotch drinker?”

 “Sometimes,” Sam answered. 

“Sometimes,” Parks echoed with a chuckle, “Where are you from again?”

“New York,” Sam replied, “City. The City. Harlem.” He clearly remembered his cover story but seemed to be having trouble keeping his nerves under control. 

“Right, right.”

“Got it,” Sharon declared, “I’m going to close up here and I’ll come knock on the door looking for you.”

“There’s something about your accent, though…” she heard Parks muse while she stowed the flash drive away back in her lipstick tube, “Sometimes it sounds a little off to me.”

“I can’t pick up on anything...but then, I don’t suppose I’d be able to,” Jonathan Wilson commented with a chortle.  

Sharon stood up after closing Parks’s laptop, making sure it looked just as it did when she had first found it. She felt as though she could practically hear Sam’s heart beating faster, or perhaps it was just her own. “Hey, don’t be afraid to change your backstory a little if you need to,” she encouraged him, “The easiest lies to tell are the ones with a bit of truth.”

“How did you know?” Sam said, feigning being impressed, “My dad is from Louisiana. I don’t even notice it most of the time but Cher tells me sometimes the occasional word slips out.”

Sharon smiled to herself. The door to the study was closed behind her and from there it was only a quick trip across the hallway to where she needed to be. Granted, it was quite a large hallway. 

“I knew it,” Parks declared, “I’ve been to Louisiana a couple of times. New Orleans is a great…” 

Sharon knocked loudly at the door. When Arthur Parks pulled it open, he was greeted with the sight of her with her hair slightly dishevelled and grinning from ear to ear. 

“Can I help you, Mrs. Dixon?” he asked. 

“I just thought I’d stop by to rescue my husband,” Sharon answered.

*

It was getting in and getting out that you had to worry about. Getting to the party had required a lot of planning, from SHIELD providing Sharon and Sam with aliases and a mission briefing to their conversations on the flight to New York. During that time they had also planned how they’d be getting out, but that plan hinged on everyone perceiving them as nothing more than party guests. To that end, what they couldn’t do was leave the party at the nearest opportunity. Rather than make more small talk, Sharon had suggested they head to the ballroom and she didn’t think she’d ever seen Sam look more relieved. 

“So do you think I thoroughly destroyed your chances at entering into a business deal with Arthur Parks?” Sharon wondered playfully. She had to lean in close to him to be heard over the music, but that was easy to do when they were dancing.  

“Oh, I think those chances are pretty much roadkill by now,” Sam replied, making her chuckle, “That’s alright. I think if I’d had to listen to him for another half hour I’d have lost my mind.”

“I wouldn’t blame you. It’s his loss, at any rate.”

“Sure is. For a successful businessman, he seems pretty good at losing things.” Sam lifted his arm and gently twirled her around while she barely hid a grin. 

“You can spin me more than that,” she said, “I used to be a figure skater, you know.”

“Wait, really?” Sam closed the small distance between them as the song changed to one with a slower tempo, his hands coming to her waist. 

“Oh, yeah. My mom taught me to ice skate when I was a kid,” Sharon explained, “Have you ever tried it?”

“No, I haven’t, but I always thought it looked fun,” Sam replied, “I guess it’s probably a bit like flying.”

 “Well, I’ve never flown, but to me it feels a lot like flying.” Sharon let her arms rest around Sam’s shoulders almost without thinking about it. “I’m a little out of practice, but I still go sometimes. I’ll take you - maybe before rather than after we go to a bar for that daiquiri.”

Sam seemed to like that idea if his grin was any indication. “You’ve got yourself a deal.” He glanced over his shoulder momentarily and then leant in so that he could lower his voice even more, speaking softly  close to her ear. “You just need to go on a few more ops with me if you ever want to try flying.”

Sharon was surprised not by Sam’s gesture but her own reaction to it. She’d seen him harmlessly flirt with other people before, especially Natasha, and she enjoyed flirting herself when the occasion called for it. The unusual part was feeling her neck grow hot and letting her gaze linger on his lips when he pulled back. “I’d like that,” she admitted, “You’re a good partner.” 

Sam smiled again.

Sharon swiftly decided that she should keep talking, mostly because she wasn’t sure what she’d do if she didn’t. “Hopefully next time you’ll get to have a little more fun,” she told him.  

“Hey, I’m having fun,” Sam insisted, to which Sharon raised her eyebrows. “I am now, at least.” Sharon laughed. “I do wish the music was a little better.”

“Mmm, some Marvin Gaye, maybe?” Sharon suggested.

“For starters,” Sam replied, a hint of suspicion in his smile. 

“You know who probably would’ve picked better music?” Sharon said. She was struggling to keep a straight face before the punchline of her own joke, which she decided to attribute to a combination of both the high and relief from having completed a large part of their mission. “Arthur Parks’s wife,” she just about managed to get out before she burst into laughter, hiding her face in Sam’s shoulder. She heard him laughing as well, which only made it more difficult for her to compose herself, but at least she figured the other party guests wouldn’t think much of it. 

“You’re a great partner,” Sam declared, then adding, “We’re good to stay here for the rest of the party, right?”

Sharon nodded, pressing her lips together to suppress any remnants of her giggles. “I did just tell you that I’m pregnant, after all.” Sam’s eyes widened almost comically for a moment before he seemed to remember the excuse Sharon had used to get rid of Marie. 

“Of course,” Sam joined in, “We can name the kid Laser.”

Sharon had to cover her mouth with one of her hands to muffle a guffaw. 

*

“Hey, Shar? Can we talk?”

Somehow, Sharon had a feeling Sam didn’t want to talk about the mission, which had gone remarkably smoothly, all things considered. The intel they needed was stored on the flash drive in Sharon’s purse, which was sitting on the nightstand next to something else they had also managed to bring back. Just before they left the mansion, they had returned to the testing room with an excuse about Sharon having misplaced her wedding ring. While Sam distracted the woman who had tested Sharon earlier, Sharon had managed to grab one of the mutant detectors and the staff seemed none the wiser. The only real concern now was the fact that they had to spend the rest of the night in their cabin, which meant if Arthur Parks or anyone else did suspect them, they would know where to find them. Sam was aware of all of that, though, and she would be very surprised if he wanted to go over what to do if they caught a glimpse of someone staring at them through the window. 

“Sure,” she replied, her eyes still on the ceiling. She let out a small exhale before she rolled over onto her side to face Sam, barely able to make out his expression in the darkness. “Is everything OK?”

“Yeah. I just...I’m not even sure I should be saying anything, but...y’know, aside from almost forgetting New York was both a state and a city and being called ‘entertaining’ by some weird British folks, I actually had a really good time tonight.”

 Sharon couldn’t help a small smile. “I kind of meant it when I told Marie we made a good team.”

“Did you mean it when you said we should go ice skating and then for drinks?” That question caught Sharon off guard, particularly in how hopeful Sam sounded when he said it. “It’s OK if you didn’t,” he added quickly, before she had a chance to respond, “We’ve known each other for a while, but we’ve never…” Sam paused. “Tonight, when we were dancing, I just felt like…”

“I felt it, too,” Sharon said quietly. 

“OK.” She was starting to be able to see his face better as her eyes continued to adjust to the light, and she realized a smile was slowly spreading across it. “OK,” he repeated with a nod, “I’m kind of getting the feeling there’s a ‘but’ coming, though.”

“There’s a ‘but’,” Sharon admitted. His delight at the notion that they both felt similarly was already making her reconsider what she was about to say, but she wanted to be honest with him. “I’m not ready, Sam.”

“Ah. There it is,” Sam said. His grin vanished, as she expected, and he gave a small nod. “I understand. You did break up with Captain America. That had to have been pretty crazy.”

“Or, as my extended family likes to tell me, I’m the crazy one.” Sharon flashed a humorless smile. “I don’t...I’m not in love with Steve anymore, but that breakup wasn’t easy. It wasn’t even anyone’s fault, really, it was just...well, I’m sure the last thing you want to hear is gossip about your best friend.”

“I did just kind of admit to having a crush on my best friend’s ex-girlfriend, though,” Sam noted.

“I guess you did.” Sharon’s smile was genuine this time. “God, I wish we’d figured this out sooner.”

“I’ll take some of the blame for that. I was too busy staring at redheads.”

“And I was too busy thinking if I stuck around long enough Steve might fall in love with me.”

“Shar…” Sam’s voice was soft, and Sharon suddenly felt like she might have said too much. 

“If you were just a hot stranger this would be a whole lot easier,” she joked, trying to lighten the mood. 

“I’ll take that as a compliment, I think,” Sam teased back, “It’s OK, Sharon. Sometimes the timing just isn’t right.”

“I just meant that if it was someone I didn’t really care about, maybe I’d go on a date or two and it wouldn’t end well but it wouldn’t be a big deal. If it was you, though...I wouldn’t want to mess it up.”

“If it was you, I wouldn’t want to mess it up, either.” Sharon’s breath caught in her throat. “Can I...can I ask you a favor, though? If you do feel like you’re ready someday, and assuming you haven’t met anyone even hotter, can you let me know?”

“What if you’re dating Natasha Romanoff by then?” Sharon asked, not entirely unseriously. 

“In that case I would like everyone to please give us as much privacy as possible,” Sam replied with a smirk. 

“Wow, OK. She’s really your type?”

“Are you jealous, Shaz?”

Sharon couldn’t help but laugh. “Maybe a little. Is that OK?”

“Yeah. That’s OK.” Sam’s eyes had what could only be described as a twinkle in them. “You still haven’t answered me.”

“You’ll be the first to know.”

#SamSharon #Sharon x Sam #Sam x Sharon #Sam Wilson #Sharon Carter #MCU #Marvel #One Shots #Shasam

[chaoticpete]

Our lives is a movie?

Peter Parker x reader...I think, Avengers x reader, Tom Holland x Reader (if ya squint)

Warnings: none

What would it be like if the team found out they were just a movie series in our world?

A/n: This is just an idea I had like last year, will probably end up rewriting it, well at least the end, hope you guys still enjoy it though!

“Oh come on! I was so close to an almost perfect winning streak!” You yell at Bucky. Tossing the controller beside you, you cross your arms and start pouting as your Yoshi finally crosses over the finish line.

“Guess I’m just better.” He replies with a smug smirk. “Is that why I beat you the first three games.” It’s your turn to smirk when he glares at you. An alarm starts going off through the tower. A code red. Someone is inside the tower. You wave your hand and your suit appears on.

“FRIDAY! Where’s the intruder?” Tony asks, running into the room, Nat and Wanda following behind. “They’re trying to get into the plans vault, sir.”

“L/N would you mind pulling up a portal?” You make one leading to the vault. “Why of course Papa Stark!” Tony summons a suit and the rest of you jump through your portal seeing a blue man trying to get past the actual vault.

“Hey, Smurf! Who do you think you are?” You ask, throwing a mini explosive his way. He jumps out of way throwing back a disk towards you guys that set off a bright light.

Then he sent another one.

“Void! Look out!” Peter says pushing you out of the way the same time you made another portal causing it to mix with the blue guy’s device.

Before anyone else in the team could do anything the guy was gone, and so were you and Peter.

You land landing on your face. “Ow...I really don’t get paid enough for this.” You grumble as you get back up and brush off your clothes. You notice a golden disk by you. It’s the one the guy threw.

Picking it up and slipping it into your suit, you begin looking around you, you see lots of people walking around some talking other carrying items. “Where the hell am I?” You say starting to walk around.

When you spotted some familiar brown curls. “Peter!” You say running towards the boy and pulling him into a hug. “Ugh, I have absolutely no idea whe- when you change your clothes?” You ask actually getting a good look at him.

‘Peter’ looks at you confused. “When did I change my clothes? Darling, I think the real question is what are you wearing and who are you?” He says in a British accent.

Before either of you can say anything else ANOTHER Peter runs up to you. “Y/n!” “Peter?!” You say back pulling this one in a hug.

“Are you okay?” “Yeah. But when I came out of that portal this woman automatically started coming at me saying that “I needed to get ready for the next scene” and “I needed a touch up” THEN SHE TRIED TO UNDRESS ME! I ran so fast.”

Quickly remembering the other Peter you step back from that Peter and look between the two. Peter looks over at the next person, who he saw...was him. “Holy shit!” He says jumping closer to you.

“Y/n, what is happening?” “I don’t know but I don’t like it. Do you think this is Loki’s doing?” “No, no.” He's on that time mission, remember.” “She.” “Oh yeah.”

The fake Peter looked just as confused as the both of you. “I feel like I should be calling security, but it’s not every day you meet someone who looks, exactly like you.” He says staring at Peter.

“Whoa, you’re British?!” Peter askes shocked at the accident. “Would it help better if I talked like this?” He asked now in an American accent.

He sounded just like Peter.

Both your and Peter’s eyes open wide. “Noooo.” You both say. “You both already look very much alike. Don’t you guys talk alike also?”

A loud bell rings and you and Peter automatically jump into your fighting stances. “Shit! Break is just about done.” Fake Peter says panicking a bit.

“Uh, okay follow me. You guys can stay in my trailer till I’m done for the day then when you get to the hotel we can figure this out.” He says starting to walk towards the trailers.

He goes to one labeled “Peter Parker” and opens the door. “You guys can wait till I’m done. Please, don’t let anyone in. I have a key so I’ll just lock it. Um, there are some snacks in the cupboard, water in the fridge, and feel free to watch anything on the tele. Even got youtube!” He yelled before closing the door.

“...did you catch any of that?” “Nope.”

Turning on the tv, you see the date. “February 16, 2021. What the hell is Covid-19-“

You get cut off by someone trying to open the door. “Fucking div locked the door again. And left the tele on.” You hear a voice mumble on the other side before walking off.

“N/n look at this,” Peter says flipping through pages of paper.

“What is it?” “It’s a script. For a “Spider-Man: No Way Home.” He says looking at the first page. “It has everyone in here. Aunt May, Mj, Ned even that European trip we went on.” “Wait what?” You ask, looking over his shoulder.

“Dude...where the hell are we.”

Hours passed and before you know it you hear the trailer door unlocking. Sitting up in the bed you see the fake Peter (whose name you learned was Tom) walking in looking tired.

“Hey. Okay, so before I actually bring you guys back home. Who exactly are you?”

“Well, my name is Peter. Peter Parker. Spider-Man. Um, I’m pretty sure you know me.”

“Yeah kinda. I am...you? Technically...in this universe. Well, one of you. I’ll explain better at the hotel. Oh, I’m Tom by the way. Don’t think I’ve actually introduced myself.” He says chuckling. “And you?” He asks turning your attention to you.

“I’m the actual Y/n. Or Void as my hero name.”

“Y/n huh? Yeah, we don’t have you here.” “Wait what? Really? But I’m Peter’s partner in crime. We’re always getting blamed for everything with the team.” You say pouting.

“Is there at least an actor that looks like me?” “No, I don’t think so darling. Sorry.”

Before anything else can be said there’s another knock on the door. “Tom, are you in there mate? We’re going to go get some pizza.”

“Uh, no thanks I’ll just meet you back at the room. Be safe.” “Who was that?” “My brother, Harry.” “Aww, he has a brother.” “Three actually.” “Awww!”

“Okay it should be safe to get you two out of here but first. Here,” Tom says opening up a kit bag and giving Peter some clothes and you an oversized hoodie. “They might think you’re trying to steal the suit.”

“Oh, and you’ll need these.” He says grabbing a box and handing you each a mask after Peter was done changing.

“Yeah what’s with these?” “We’re in a pandemic?” “Like the plague?” “Ehh, sort of. Now let’s find a way to get you two back home.”

**************************************************************

“So here, we’re all just...comic book characters? There are no avengers? No flying robots? Nothing?”

“Nope. No alien villains. Just regular people who wanna bring harm.” “Huh.”

The three of you were now in Tom’s suite.

“So how did you guys even get here.” “Well, my theory is when the guy threw his little disk thingy, it merged with Y/n powers and made a new portal.”

“But how do you know that’s what it was meant to do?” “It’s the only explanation with how he got into the compound and the vault unnoticed.”

“You guys never thought about that?” “Blame Tony.” You say as Peter hisses and moves back from getting shocked.

“You okay?” You say grabbing his hand to inspect the slight burn. “Yeah, just a sting. It’ll heal in an hour or two.”

“Can you get us back home?” “Yeah, but I’ll need a few supplies.” “Well,” Tom speaks up. “I’m off tomorrow so we can go pick up what you need. You can stay here tonight if you like.”

“Thanks, dude,” Peter says and you nod with him.

“You guys hungry? I can ask Harry to bring back some pizza for us.” “Ohh yes please.” You say bouncing on your toes a bit. “I’m absolutely starving.”

“So Tom you’re an actor right?” “Mhmm.” “And you said you play me?” “Yep.” “And they have the rest of the team?” “Besides me apparently,” you say under your breath.

“Maybe they’ll bring you in soon. The company is starting a new phase so,” Tom says shrugging.

“Do you guys wanna see them?” “How many are there?” “23 movies and more coming out. There's also shows.”

“23 MOVIES ABOUT US?!”

Tom can’t help but laugh at your guy’s reaction. “Yeah, Marvel movies are some of the biggest ones these days. Going on for almost 13 years.”

“How much have you acted in?” “Like five, two solo films, and this one we’re currently filming will make it six. Three solos and three with the actual avengers.”

There was a knock on the door. “Must be Harry with the pizza,” Tom says going to the door. “Why didn’t you just use your key?”

“Cause my hands are full ya div. Why did you get so much food any-“ Harry stops when he sees you and Peter sitting on the couch.

Tom quickly grabs the food from his hands before he can even think about letting it go.

Looking between his brother and his duplicate you couldn’t help but start laughing at his expression.

All three turned to look at you like you completely lost his mind (which I’m sure is exactly how Harry was feeling). “I’m just gonna...nice meeting you guys I guess.” He says walking to what you think is his room before looking back at Tom and Peter causing him to almost walk up into a wall.

“Uh...sorry about that. That’s my little brother Harry, he came along as my assistant.” You and Peter nod. “Well guess we can dig in and watch the movies.”

“I- it was not that dramatic when Mr. Stark took the suit.” “Yes, it was. You could barely talk properly when you called me.”

“I can’t believe they included Flash but not me.”

“Okay, but why is the guy who plays Mysterio kinda hot though.” “Y/n I swear.” “Okay, but am I wrong?!” “...no.”

“Tony’s ego is gonna be ruined if he ever knows they killed him off.”

“Sucks we didn’t have enough time to watch all 23 films. I’m sure it would make more sense.”

And that’s how your night went. You just watched the Spider-Man stand-alone ones before everyone started to crash from the long eventful day. Harry even came out and joined you guys.

After figuring out what was needed and put together his own device, it was time for you guys to go home.

“You guys got everything?” Harry asks as Peter puts the finishing touches. “Yeah, thank you, guys. Really, I don’t know what I and Peter would’ve done if we didn’t end up here.”

“Oh! These are for you.” Tom says handing you a bag. “It’s the whole MCU collection. I saw how much you guys loved the Spider-Man ones and it was confusing since they all interact. Plus, I’m sure the others would wanna see them.”

“As if some of them need an ego boost. Especially Tony and Loki. I’m pretty sure if Loki ever found out he was actually worshipped here he would find a way to get here.”

You go and pull Tom into a hug. “Nice meeting you Peter’s British half. I’ve never really cared for them but eh, I guess I have a little soft spot for two of them now.” You say shooting Harry a wink before placing a kiss on Tom’s cheek and then going to give Harry a hug as Peter says his byes.

“Ready N/n?” “I guess. I just hope we actually end up in our world and not a different one.” You say grabbing Peter's hand as he gets ready to throw the disc.

You both look back at the two Holland brothers. “See you again one day boys.” You say as Peter throws the disc and a portal opens and the two of you jump through it.

The two of you crash to the floor. “Ugh, Peter get off me! You’re skinny but really heavy.”

“Kids!” You both look up to see the team rushing to you guys. “Where did you two go?!”

Getting up from the ground, both tackled with hugs.

“YOu'll never believe us. But we do have the next movie night!” “What are those?” “Movies about us. Avengers! To the theater room!”

Tags:: @tommyunderoos @spideyspeaches @frenchfrostpudding @holland-styles @gwenvrse @allegra-writes @petersgroupie @cherry-hyejin @kitkatd7 @buckys-other-punk

#marvel #x reader #peter parker #peter parker x reader #spiderman #peter x reader #tom holland spiderman #avengers #mcu peter parker #tom holland x reader #alternate universe #peter Parker and Tom Holland #avenger reader #chaoticpete writes

[breanime]

How about for the reyes-Cruz polyship we go for fluff 2 and 7 😘

*gif not mine*

Angel and Coco were both on edge. Neither of them were comfortable in these kinds of situations, but you were their girl, and they wanted to support you, so here they were…

…in a god damn museum.

…wearing their kuttes.

…tats on display.

…uncomfortable as hell.

You had a piece on display, and there was a silent auction for it, so your boys came to support you. They loved your work, and more than one piece (including the one up for auction) had been inspired by your love for them. A week ago, when you’d told them about the auction, they’d been excited for you—and they still were—but they hadn’t really grasped the situation, meaning they hadn’t anticipated the snobby art people who kept eyeing them with suspicion and fear.

“You clock the motherfucker with the fifteen scarves?” Angel whispered to Coco, his eyes on you from your spot across the room.

Coco’s eyes narrowed, and he nodded. The guy had been following you around, chatting with you as people walked around the gallery. He was looking at a painting with you, talking your ear off. You turned to the side, looking at it from a different angle, and the guy not-so-subtly checked you out. “Motherfucker’s lookin’ hard as hell.”

“He can look, but if he tries to touch I’ll break his fingers,” Angel grunted, hands in his pockets.

“How much you wanna bet that that’s the guy who asked her out a month ago?” Coco asked. “The trust fund kid with the terrible taste in music. And art.”

“And scarves,” Angel added, “It’s fucking Cali in the summer, why is he wearing so many scarves?”

“And why is he talking to her so much?” Coco asked back. “You think we should step in?”

Angel looked around; across the hall was where your piece was, and there was a small crowd of people around it, appreciating your hard work. He sighed. “Nah, not yet. She knows we’re here; she’ll let us know if she needs us.”

“Can’t wait to be outta here,” Coco muttered, “fuck, I just wanna be in bed with our girl.”

“I feel you,” Angel said back, “just a few more hours, and then we’ll have her all to ourselves again…” He titled his head, eyes still on million-scarves-guy. “Okay, he’s starting to piss me off now.”

Coco opened his mouth to respond, but he closed it when the museum curator stood up and tapped a tiny, sterling silver spoon on his champagne flute.

“Attention,” he called in what was clearly a fake British accent, “attention everyone! We have made a sale—the biggest sale of the night!”

Everyone gathered near, and Angel and Coco both looked over at you. You smiled at them, knowing how much they disliked this setting—you did too. But this was where artists started in this town, so…here you were. It was uncomfortable for you being there, stuck with all of the snobs and hipsters, but having Angel and Coco there made it better. Just knowing that they were there with you helped keep you calm. Even as Evan—the pretentious mansplainer with his stupid “fashion statement” scarves—bothered you, it wasn’t as annoying as usual because you knew your guys were close.

“Miss Y/N Y/LN’s piece, titled Blood Is Blood, has just sold for $5,400 dollars!”

Your jaw dropped, and Angel and Coco both cheered loudly.

“That’s my girl!” Angel called out, applauding heartily.

“That’s our girl!” Coco corrected him with a grin.

You laughed, rushing over to them and letting them both engulf you in their arms. Evan, seeing you kiss Coco and then Angel, discreetly left the building, hoping not to run into either of them outside.

“So proud of you, mi dulce,” Angel said, kissing your cheek.

“What you gonna do with all that dough,” Coco teased, “not that we’re gold diggers or nothin’, but…”

You giggled, smiling up at them. “Well, the first thing I’m gonna do is grab my check and get the hell out of here,” you pulled them closer, one hand on Angel’s kutte and the other on Coco’s, “then I’m gonna cash it and toss it on your naked bodies.”

“Well shit,” Angel grinned, “let’s get the hell out of here then.”

You took both of their hands, matching grins on all three of your faces, knowing you were in for one hell of a night.

*******************************************************************************************

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[twinklelilstarkey]

hi i don’t know if you write about mental health problems or anything but if you do, please could you write a billy butcher x female reader where you’re his gf and it’s gotten really bad but he takes care of you ?? sorry i know it’s a bit much but i’m going through it tbh ://

A/N: You and me both, my love. Hope everything gets better for you.

I wrote this based mainly on anxiety since is the one I’m most acquainted with.

Words: 1.9k+

Summary: Billy gives you advice on your anxiety.

Warnings: Female!Reader. Mentions of anxiety. Mentions of stress over college work. Slight age gap is mentioned, but you can imagine it as big or as small as you want, literally, anyone can be a college student. College Student Problems!

You have been having an extreme hard time with college. Teachers like to believe that any student can easily work under extreme pressure, so they like to schedule all tests and essays in a space of a week and a half.

With all of that, it means that you need to study with many weeks in advance and hope that you won’t mix all the information in your head and get confused. As well as... Take as less breaks possible.

That may sound ridiculous to many, and you’re 100% sure that any doctor would yell at you if they had heard you say that, (since breaks are ALWAYS NEEDED), but you just can’t bring yourself to take breaks.

It’s both mentally and physically impossible. You already can’t sleep that well; you can’t eat that much or even focus on other things other than your notes and books (you had previously grabbed at the library).

Everyone that hangs out with you knows that you’re a very anxious person by nature, but they never saw you like this. And if they had to admit, it is quite scary.

Your boyfriend, Billy, who also lives with you, has been blind to it all. It’s not his fault. You try to hide it as much from him as possible. And he’s also out of the house for most of the day and only sees you when he comes back before dinner.

He has noticed your jumpy leg under the table, bloody bottom lip (from you biting it) and especially how less you eat. But like I said before, you’re an anxious person by nature.

Billy doesn’t see your daily mental breakdowns or hears you giving yourself a pep talk when in the shower, because he’s almost never present whenever something important happens between the boys.

But everything will change today.

And that is because today is a Friday that Billy decided to take off ‘work’ to stay home and relax, while you, on the other hand, will spend it with online classes and studying.

You lean back on your desk chair, finding it awfully uncomfortable after so many days sitting in that same position, and sigh loudly while looking at the PowerPoint that is being projected on the Zoom call.

Your webcam is on, yet your microphone is off, making your sounds of pure frustration be silent to others that could possibly see you.

The TV in the other room is on by what  you can hear over your headphones, and you’re pretty sure that Billy is sitting on the couch bingewatching a random ‘police drama’, as always.

He has made his appearance at least once on the background of your screen, which caught some people’s attention. But other than that, he has been leaving you in your corner to peacefully have your class.

You continue to take notes of what your teacher is saying silently as your mind runs miles an hour, always taking your attention somewhere else.

“You alright there?”

You turn your chair a bit to the side and look over your shoulder at the doorway behind you, looking at the owner of the deep voice and the British accent.

“Yeah” You say with a quick fake smile before turning back around to look at the screen.

“You sure?”

You nod, knowing that he can see your head (the chair’s back is not that tall).

“Alright,” He says before walking off to somewhere in your apartment.

(...)

Lunch went rather well. You ate as much as you could, which wasn’t a lot. But Billy’s cursing at the news were enough to keep your mind occupied for that short while. Other than that, your day has been like any other day of this week.

You’re officially done with your online classes for today, but unfortunately, you still need to study.

You have been reading your notes and small bits of the books the teachers told you to study with, for the past… what you believe, hour, but nothing seemed to make sense.

You’ve tried changing up a few words in the sentences, for simpler words, in hopes that your brain will soon catch the meaning as it sounds simpler... but nothing of the sort is happening.

Your eyes have filled with frustrated tears at least 10 times since you started, making the reading quite difficult. But as for right now, you are letting those tears roll down your face in complete defeat.

People do say that you shouldn’t hold back your tears, right? That it will always feel better once you stop?

Yeah, that is true. But they forgot to mention that it only lasts 10 minutes.

You sniffle while wiping the tears off your face, throwing the pencil down at the desk in pure frustration, before leaning back on the chair.

“Are you okay?” Billy asks from behind you, probably on his way to the bathroom.

“Yeah, yeah” you say while wiping your tears quickly, “My nose just started running for no reason”

A silence is set and for a few seconds you believe that he has walked away, but that was until you felt his warm hand rest over your shoulder.

“Runny nose that created tears?” He asks in a slight ironic tone.

You don’t answer him, yet his hand gives your shoulder a small squeeze.

“Get up, let’s go to the living room” He says in a whisper.

“I can’t” you say, not taking your eyes off your notebooks, “I need to keep studying”

“I’m sure you can take a break”

You sigh loudly, trying to rearrange your feelings before looking up at the older man.

“I need to keep studying” You repeat.

Your sad tone was way more noticeable to Billy this time, and he caught it right as you said the first word.

“How long has it been since you took a break?”

“I’ve been here since lunch”

Butcher’s eyes widen at your words and his mouth falls agape.

“It’s almost 5pm, what do you mean since lunch?”

You shrug as an answer before taking a quick look at your phone, checking if Butcher isn’t lying about the time, and he’s not.

His mind runs with thoughts about you probably feeling exhausted, while yours just run around the idea of another day almost being over and you haven’t even started to understand this new chapter.

You try to grab your pencil back from the table but Billy, in that same second, snatches it off your hand and puts it back down.

“Get up in your two little feet and walk your arse over to the couch”

You, surprisingly, do as told, once noticing his change of tone, as well as his change of facial expression. He looks slightly annoyed, but also, worried.

You walk off the bedroom, Billy right behind you, not even a meter away.

Once your body collides down into the soft surface of the couch, Butcher lets out a loud sigh, also taking his seat.

“Have you been doing this routine every day?” He asks, looking over at you.

“Yeah. I mean, kinda,” you answer, shrugging again, “it depends on what classes I’m having”

“Have you eaten anything since lunch?”

“No, I’m not hungry”

“How? You almost didn’t even eat anything today”

“I just feel nauseous every time I smell or see food, I can’t eat, Billy” you say, with a sadder expression taking over your face.

“And why do you not take breaks?”

“I don’t have time for breaks”

“Honey, 15 minutes wouldn’t hurt you” he says, making you look away, knowing that he won’t understand your side, “You know that”

“Yeah, I know that. But what are breaks when my mind just stays on that stupid piece of paper the whole time?” You ask, “I’ve tried everything to keep my mind occupied with something else, believe me! I just can’t relax until I got all of this sorted in my head”

“I get it, love” He says in a calmer tone, as if he was trying to calm you down with his voice, “But you know that if you’re non stop studying, at some point, your brain just wont grab anything that you’re reading, right?”

You stay silent.

“I’ve studied for college as well. No degree is easy, love, that’s for sure. I know how stressful it is, and how it feels when you don’t have your own stuff under control” His hand rests over yours, “But you don’t have to destroy your mental health because of it”

“What if it’s my mental health destroying itself and not me destroying it?”

“Well… You are sure helping it” He admits, “If your mind is worried about something from when you wake up to when you go to sleep, all you could do to relax is get a distraction, right?”

“Yeah, but I’ve tried everything”

“I’m sure you didn’t try everything, babes” He gives your hand a little squeeze, “There’s millions of options. Try not to read if you space-out too much, and try, I don’t know, watch one of those highly chaotic videos you like to watch. I’m sure those one’s will leave your mind more than occupied”

A small smile grows on your lips as you hear his words and you take a deep breath.

“And what do I do if I continue to not be able to understand anything?”

“I’m sure you understand something. You take notes like a mad woman when in class” he says with a joking tone.

“I’m serious”

“I know you are, princess. But this is not the first time you’ve felt this much pressure because of school, is it?” You shake your head, “And every time you lived past this type of shit, you were able to do every test and every essay right on time. And most of them with fucking amazing grades!” He says with a smile at the end.

There’s some silence between the two of you.

“I know it feels like it’s impossible to live through this right now, but believe me, there’s always someone in a worst situation than you, yet still is able to live their lives with smiles on their faces. If they can do it, I’m more than fucking sure you can do it 200 times better”

A silence is set between the two of you again, this time, a little longer than before.

“Why don’t you take the rest of the day off? I know it sounds impossible right now, but just try and focus on something else. Leave all of that for tomorrow”

As good as that sounds, you feel a little hesitant. Billy lifts his hand from yours and brings it over to your head, caressing it as you look down at the ground.

“I’m just scared that I won’t be able to pass these tests”

Butcher, with your words, leans forward and presses a kiss on the side of your head, over your hair.

“I would offer you my help if I could” He says making a sympathetic smile appear over your lips, “But I don’t even understand a word from what you write down”

A chuckle escapes your lips and you look back up at him.

“I can always ask Hughie for help” He offers.

“I would love that. Thank you.”

You wrap one of your arms around Billy’s torso and lean your head over his shoulder. Butcher responds quickly to your actions by wrapping his own arms around you, pulling you closer to him.

Billy leans his head to the side, laying it right on yours, and you snuggle closer to him once feeling his warmth envelop your colder body.

“Here” He says, before passing you the remote.

As soon as you start surfing through the channels, Billy remembers something.

“Start thinking about what you want for dinner” He says, “You’ll be eating a whole 3 course meal tonight, young lady”

- - - - - - 

Hope you liked this!!!

#billy butcher #billy butcher x reader #billy butcher x you #billy x reader #the boys #the boys imagine

[aftgficrec]

Neil nonchalantly using different languages ?

2/ omgjustkillmealready said to aftgficrec: Neil doing accents. Like not mockingly but like convincing ones nonchalantly?

We combine language/accents as one tag, but I’m listing some Neil with a British accent from previous recs, plus some new-to-us ones at the end of this post. As always, please make sure to check the top of the previous recs for many more fics. - A

Also check out

Neil with languages/accents

Neil with math/language skills

‘andreil learning russian’ here

‘Okay so I have this headcanon about andreil’ here

neil or andrew use sign language

Neil is British or a British accent comes out in these previous recs

‘Armies’ here

‘Neil Hatford’ here

‘The Morning AUs...Ch. 47: i like your face' here

‘morbid stuff’ series (kandreil) here

‘nothing to lose’ series here

‘Broken English’ here

‘it suits you’ here

‘Sinister Kid’ here

‘Fake It ’Til You Make It’ here

‘Dancing With the Devil’ here

‘teach me something about love’ here

I Can't Read Your Mind (I've Tried) by trubenblack [Not Rated, 1976 Words, Complete, 2019]

based on a Tumblr prompt from insanewallaby.

how about the foxes figuring out just how many languages he knows (besides the ones already mentioned in the book)

tw: implied/referenced abuse

AFTG headcanon - Neil sleep talking by @not-until-tuesday​ [Tumblr, 2018]

- once Neil and Andrew get comfortable with eachother in the same bed they start to move

- and holy shit is Neil the fidgetiest motherfucker the world has ever seen

Okay but I love any and all situations involving Andreil and French hc by @gohgue​ [Tumblr 2017]

- Neil saying things to Andrew in french because he knows it gets him hot and Kevin running out of the room screaming “HOW DO YOU UNLEARN A LANGUAGE”

The Languages of Andreil hc by @gohgue​ [Tumblr 2017]

English

- Public conversations (including dramatic statements to fuel the josten vs. minyard rivalry)

- Hushed and gasped ‘yes or no’s

- Used on social media because honestly who is bothered with all those keyboards, not them.

i bet everyone in neil’s spanish class hates him. hc by @smokeypaprika [Tumblr]

Neil with a British Accent

neil w a british accent and the team losing their shit over it??? prompt fill by @nekojitachan [Tumblr Fic, 2017]

It was the reporter’s fault, Andrew supposed.

when neil gets mad a slight british accent comes out prompt fill by @nekojitachan [Tumblr Fic, 2017]

Now that the Foxes know about Neil’s past (Mary) and everything, he doesn’t need to keep such a close guard on how he talks and everything. He’s a bit more free in talking in French with Kevin and German with the ‘monsters’, in letting the small bit of Italian and Portuguese and Dutch he picked up out at various moments from rambling all over Europe.

NEIL WITH A BRITISH ACCENT prompt fill by @titforatat [Tumblr Fic, 2016]

i like to call this “neil is so hot that he can accidentally turn on a room full of people with just an exy article and andrew is fed up (and turned on)”

HC THING by @i-want-delfeur [Tumblr, 2018]

So Mary was English and we know Neil can do a fucking good British accent if needed. None of the Foxes have heard it, and none of them ask to hear it.

  tw: sexual content

Neil can mimic a British accent perfectly hc by @rayluneia [Tumblr, 2018]

NB: Edited to correct attribution

#fic #neil josten/andrew minyard #neil josten & the foxes #kevin day & neil josten & andrew minyard #jack #universe: post canon #theme: languages/accents #theme: wagers & bets #theme: fluff #theme: sleeping #theme: bed sharing #theme: foxes react #theme: nonsexual intimacy #theme: the press #theme: drinking #theme: kissing #theme: frottage #theme: british!neil #tw: implied/referenced abuse #tw: alcohol #omgjustkillmealready