#like that song is nothing but theatricality and it is SO good

[pu-butt]

Child-me may have not gotten all of her songs, but upon further review and with the power of voortschrijdend inzicht, i must conclude that Anouk's For Bitter or Worse album consists of nothing but banger after banger after banger

#like little me could not stand faith in my moon but honestly...it's a vibe #there are very few albums where i genuinely like every single song #but for bitter or worse really is one of them #like even bløfs umoja i have zero interest in één en alleen #klein orkest's roltrap naar de maan has that god awful song about the trains and the stomach aches #hozier's shrike and as it ways are as my mom would say: zeiknummers #i think maybe rumours might qualify? although i dont care much for don't stop but it's not like i hate it #katzenjammer's a kiss before you go is also way up there in terms of chef's kiss albums #like the diversity of the genres they go through and then they end on god's great dust storm #like that song is nothing but theatricality and it is SO good #the way it goes from so small to so big #ugh so good #but anyway #for bitter or worse: deeply underrated album (by me) honestly

[likeabxrdinflight]

prior to literally this summer, 1989 was the only taylor swift album I had any real attachment to. like I had kinda liked a few of the hits from red, but 1989 was the first album of hers with songs I genuinely loved and would seek out from time to time. it was also the first (and for a long time, only) one of her albums I ever listened to start to finish. so this is the only re-recording where I feel anything about losing the original tracks. not that they don't exist anymore but like...if there is one place where I respect taylor swinging her wealth and power around, it is definitely in support of artists owning the rights to their works. so I won't be listening to the originals on streaming anymore in support of that.

but I can't pretend the new versions don't sound noticeably different to me. some are improved, some...I'm not as sure of. but I notice it in a way that I honestly couldn't have pointed out as much with the fearless, red, or speak now re-recordings, beyond her voice maturing, because I never cared about those albums before (honestly I still don't care about fearless, and red is still hit and miss for me, sorry babe. I slept on speak now tho I'll admit that). but 1989 is different. I have legitimate nostalgia for 1989.

#style and blank space are the two that will take the most getting used to #clean was a bit jarring to hear in her more mature voice but in a good way #out of the woods and this love sound way better now #but I feel like she's lost a little bit of theatricality on this new recording #which is most evident in blank space I think #a little bit in wonderland too #I'll get used to it lol #...I'm still not sure how I ended up down this rabbit hole like I've now listened to the majority of her discography #where before it was mostly just 1989 and a few of other songs here and there in my playlists #like I was never impressed by reputation and I hated me! so much that I never bothered with lover #I ignored the pandemic albums completely #...but then idk man midnights impressed me and then would've could've should've came for my whole throat #the re-recordings have given me a decent excuse to re-examine her older work and some of it has surprised me #some hasn't lol #...but that was never the case for 1989 like #I always liked this album there was nothing there to re-examine #anyways I'm rambling

[barblaz-arts]

I know that pilot was gold!!!! The only thing that kept me alove was the promise of more and Helluva Boss!!!

But yeah their interactions, Vaggie OMG i love this idiot face every time Charlie feels too much and get too excited is GOLD.

It is always refreshing to have a well established couple since the beginning that work thors issues together. I might live for a good slowburn, but the fluff woth a dash of angst around them was enough to get me feed.

And the songs... the songs!!!!!

Exactly! There were so many moments where Vaggie is stressed about something but then she sees Charlie being her theatrical adorable self and she just immediately melts.

She loves her so much 💗

And i know what you mean. I get it when people dont take much interest in an already established ship because I'm like that in a lot of cases, but something about Chaggie got me so invested even tho they're already dating for years now. People complain that they don't act like a couple, not being all over each other and shit, but their behavior with each other is my ideal portrayal for couples i write. As great as seeing physical chemistry is, i love it when a couple just shows how much they enjoy being with each other even more. And just... Like each other as a person yanno?

And oh my gosh the songs. They were so good, i applaud their song writers. And the fact that most of their voice actors were theater actors in a lot of musicals i loved really made it even better. This is a long shot, but since Nifty was the only one who didn't get to sing more than two lines in a song, i hope they get her to sing more next season. Nothing special, just a fun musical number that maybe welcomes a new sinner in the hotel. Like a Be Our Guest kind of thing. Otherwise casting Kimiko Glen for her would be suuuuch a waste.

(for those who don't know her, this is Nifty's VA)

#asks #hazbin hotel #i know i coulda linked maybe a song from the mlp movie she was in #but ya gotta appreciate her live vocals here

[harleehazbinfics]

Home is where my heart is.

Chapter 2: It was a date? Table of Contents | Profile

Word Count: 918 A/N: I'll make a separate post for what I envisioned Miledy to be, those would be early designs tho.

(edited as of Feb 20)

“Thanks again for coming, Al. Thanks for the radio too, it must’ve been quite expensive,” I said to him with a small smile. We were currently in a coffee shop, where I invited him as a thank you for taking me around the city for the best stores and sights in town.

“It’s nothing grand, it was my pleasure! Besides, I was the one that asked to come with you either way,” he replied with his grin before drinking his coffee. “I just hope you would listen to me while I’m on air.”

“I wouldn’t miss it!” I replied happily giving him a radiant smile.

Alastor seemed to enjoy the sight and happy hum and continued, “Speaking of which, darlin’. I wanted to ask you to sing a few songs during my radio show. I quite enjoy your songs and fantastic singing voice; it definitely has the potential to go big! And why not invite you over, it’s a win-win-win for us!”

I was shocked for a moment and rambled on mostly to myself, “W-well, I don’t know. I don’t think I’m good enough to do that and specially on your own show I couldn’t--.”

I stopped when he took my hand pat it, encasing my hands with his large ones. “Calm down, sweetheart. I won’t force you if you don’t want to. I just wanted to open an opportunity for you, I didn’t to put you in a tight spot there. I apologize.”

I looked at him with grateful eyes with how understanding he was and nodded my head.

“Just tell me when you’re ready, darling. That offer is always open,” he encouraged with his enthusiastic theatrics. He then looks at his watch and announces, “Oh would you look at that! It’s almost time! We should hurry if we want to catch up.”

I stood up with him confused as he escorted me outside and hailed a taxi for us to get in. “Where are we going, Al?”

“That’s a surprise,” he whispered with half-lidded eyes and his easy grin.

Flustered, I turned my head to the streets and watch as the people pass by. Eventually, halted by the seaside. The golden hue flushed the world around us, making everything look magical.

I went and held the silver railing and simply uttered, “Wow.”

Hearing nothing from the usually talkative radio host, I looked over to Alastor who looked over the distance with melancholy hazing his eyes. Thinking over what happened today and the day I first met him, I started to reconsider what he said at the café. I wanted to do something for him for all the things he had given me.

“Hey, Al?” I called to him somewhat embarrassed.

He turns to me and puts on a lazy grin, replying, “Yes, sweetheart?”

“About the offer…” I look away from his eyes and breathed in, “I want to do it.”

His eyes visibly light up and gives me a hug, making me go wide eyed from the sudden show of affection. I didn’t think of him as the type of guy to be all touchy-feely. Before I could even return it, he unlatches off me and holds my shoulders eagerly.

“Wonderful! You won’t regret it. I’ll put on a show for you in no time!” he responds happily.

I give him a wry smile and laugh, before looking back at the shore reliving through what I went through today, while Alastor placed his arm around my shoulders quite intimately. I looked at the hand on my shoulder and back to his face and laughed.

“You know, if someone were to look at us right now and all the things we did together. I’d think they’d surely assume that we were on a date,” I jested, nudging my shoulder at him.

He doesn’t say anything at first but the counters, “Funnily enough, I always thought that were the case.” I look at him confused making him pet my head, “I won’t deny that I hold an attraction towards you, and neither will I deny that today’s plans were exactly a date.”

“S-so you.. to me??” I stuttered bewildered that someone as him would like a simple girl like me.

“But of course!” he explains, “The moment I saw you in the club you’ve already caught my eye, and having to share a two, few many drinks with you. You are quite a rarity in an age like this.”

“B-but what if I-,” I started feeling my anxiety get to me, try to get away from his grip.

“My dear, what if are only figurative. Nothing good will ever come out of overthinking,” he tried holding my hands trying to soothe me.

I took a big breath in and asked, “Are you sure you’d want me? I’m not a good person, Alastor. I mess up, make mistakes and I’m a coward.”

Looking down at our hands, I missed the mysterious haze over his eyes and replied, “So am I. I like you for who you are, Miledy. Whether you stumble and fall or flourish and grow, I want to be the first person there to pick you up and support you.”

I smiled at him, finding comfort in his words and nodded my head, “Okay. I want to there for you too, Al.”

“Lovely. How about I take you home now? Our outing has gotten a little bit late,” he changed the topic.

“Alright,” I answer happily letting him escort me while talking all the way home.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin charlie #hazbin angel dust #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor x oc #alastor x reader #alastor #hazbin niffty #hazbin husk #hazbin vaggie

[mediocre-daydreams]

𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭

summary: sirius accidentally apparates into your bed instead of his.

w/c: 3.5k

notes: mutual pining, sirius is so jealous of jily, a few swears, suggestive moments, remus likes crosswords, soft! sirius

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

sirius felt pathetic.

“i feel pathetic,” sirius whined, throwing himself on one of the potters’ cushy sofas. he buried his face in a decorative pillow and kicked his feet against the couch cushions.

“quit your little temper tantrum,” lily said, rolling her eyes. “it makes you look more pathetic.”

“which is shocking, because i didn’t think it could even get worse,” remus piped from his seat at the kitchen island, where he was doing yesterday’s daily prophet crossword.

“what’s a six-letter word and starts with an ‘s’ that could be similar to cowardly?” remus tapped his quill against his chin.

“scared?” said sirius.

“sirius?” said lily.

“hey, i’ll have you know that i am in fact a gryffindor, despite what my parents have to say about it!” sirius retorted, throwing his pillow at lily’s head blindly and missing.

“what the-” you were hit in the chest by a flying pillow as you wandered into the sitting room, looking for your friends. you identified sirius as the culprit. “are you serious?”

“why yes, i am!”

you rolled your eyes but with no real malice; instead, discarding the pillow to the side and flung yourself on top of sirius’ back with full force. he oomph’d at the sudden weight.

you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and tucked your knees into his sides to pin him down. he protested meekly.

lily giggled as she watched sirius squirm under you as he pretended to be upset while you clung onto him triumphantly. sirius could’ve easily pushed you off, or even flipped you over, but he wasn’t going to complain about how close you were to him. no, sirius didn’t mind it one bit.

loud, thunderous footsteps could be heard bounding down the stairs as james made his presence known. euphemia trailed behind him, wary but amused.

“james, you can apparate now,” she chided. “why do you insist on causing such a ruckus every time you use the stairs?” 

“but muuuuum, last time i crashed into the clock and you were all upset. i’m just being cautious.” james smiled guiltily.

euphemia waved him off. “your friends combined make less noise than you do, james.” she sighed happily as she watched her mosh of children settle soundly into her home. remus was sleepily humming a muggle song, james had taken a seat by lily and was resting his head on her lap, while you and sirius continued to smother each other.

“remus, feel free to head upstairs anytime,” euphemia said sweetly. she looked towards your crowd. “and you all as well. there’s no rush, but it’s getting late and fleamont and i will be heading to bed soon.”

there was a chorus of thank yous as euphemia left, leaving the lot of you alone on the lower level. lily looked at you and quirked her head.

you nodded. “i think lily and i will start washing up as well; goodnight everyone!”

lily kissed james’ forehead. james’ blush was apparent even in the dimness of the evening.

sirius perked up as you slid off from his back with a laugh, hoping for a kiss too. the two of you were normally affectionate anyway, so it didn’t seem so demanding.

when you made no indication of giving sirius a goodnight kiss, he sat up and pouted theatrically. “what about me? can i have a kiss too?” he whined, pointing his chin at james, who looked smug.

you appraised sirius for a minute “hmm, let’s see. have you been a good boy today?” you tapped your chin like you were deep in thought.

sirius’ heart raced.

“i think so, yes,” you decided, stepping closer to the anxious boy. you pressed three fingers to your lips—it was better than nothing, sirius decided—and slapped him (gently!) across the face.

“there’s your kiss!” you grinned mischievously.

james and lily laughed, even earning a snort from remus, who was half-asleep already.

“hey, that wasn’t- you slapped me!” sirius stammered, feeling cheated. “look how nicely lily gave prongs his kiss! you conniving little minx!” sirius crossed his arms.

“ah, well lily and james are dating and we are very much not. you’ve got to be promoted to the boyfriend level to earn that kind of salary.”

lily nodded solemnly. “that’s true. and your resume must be strong, too. job offers can be very competitive these days, y’know? and your girl has a lot of applicants.” lily winked at you.

your girl, sirius thought. he liked that. “well, how can i apply?” sirius joked, looking up at you with raised brows.

you pinched his cheek endearingly. “oh sirius, you flirt. now goodnight, all.” lily took your hand and pulled you up the stairs, hushed whispers trailing behind you and the occasional giggle from lily. sirius sat on the couch, dazed.

“what in merlin’s name happened?” james hissed loudly. “what do you call that, pads?”

remus rubbed his eyes blearily and sat beside james. the two boys stared down sirius from their couch like they were courtroom judges and sirius was being interrogated. in a sense, he was.

“i- i don’t know! she just slapped me and then ignored what i said!” sirius exclaimed.

james shushed him. “you’re going to wake up the entire house!” 

remus sighed disappointedly. “are you two daft? she clearly thinks you’re flirting with her-”

“-i am!”

“-as a joke. you flirt with everyone, padfoot. coming from you, flirting is almost like… platonic behavior.”

“that literally makes no sense, you realize that, right?” sirius scoffed.

james hummed and shook his finger as he came to realization. “no, no. moony’s right-”

“-when am i ever not right?”

“-you flirt with all your friends. if you want to make it obvious you like her, you have to treat her differently. for you, that wouldn’t be flirting. it’d be more like…”

remus butted in. “domesticity, i think. little, genuine things that let her know you’ve been thinking of her. nothing too theatric; that’ll make her think you’re doing it jokingly too. you’ve got to be personal with her… vulnerable, even. yes, that’s it. you should be vulnerable. everybody knows loud, annoying padfoot-”

“-i am not annoying!”

“-but if you let her see you without all the exaggeration, she’ll know you really mean what you say.”

james and sirius looked at lupin, impressed. james shook his head like he was clearing his thoughts. “when did you become so wise, moony?”

remus smirked. “wouldn’t you like to know?”

--

sirius couldn’t sleep. well, he was restless most nights, often plagued with nightmares or a constant stream of thoughts, but tonight he was simultaneously battling james’ snoring and remus’ rolling and shuffling around.

sirius groaned quietly, draping an arm over his eyes. he needed a break. with a quick breath, he apparated himself into the potter’s kitchen and poured himself a cup of juice, sipping quietly as he leaned against the counter.

living at james’ house was like living on the moon. at home, sirius never got to decide when he wanted to sleep. he wasn’t allowed to brush his teeth with his friends and get foam all over the counter, or nibble on a secret stash of sweets at midnight, much less leave his room to raid the fridge.

when sirius finished his juice, he wrapped up his late night escapade with a quick scourgify and a quiet sigh. once again, he apparated upstairs to avoid the creaky staircase.

sirius had made a grave error.

“what the-” you sputtered for the second time that night. “sirius?”

sirius looked down at your sleeping figure. this time, he was the one sitting on top of your body, though he was considerably heavier than you were.

“lumos,” you whispered. “sirius, what the hell are you doing here?” you tried to sound scolding, but your voice came out slurred and bleary as you tried to blink yourself awake.

“i- i don’t know! i tried apparating back to-”

“shhh!” you furrowed your eyebrows, grabbing him by the neckline of his shirt and pulling him into bed beside you. “you’ll wake lily! thank godric she’s a deep sleeper.”

you huffed, pushing yourself upright. while the boys were crammed into james’ room, you and lily were sharing the guest bedroom which housed two larger twin sized beds. there was just enough space for sirius to move off your chest and to your side.

“i’m sorry, i went downstairs for a drink and i must’ve apparated to the wrong place or something-”

“clearly! how on earth did you manage that?”

“i don’t know! i’m tired, alright?” he punctuated his words with a big yawn.

“you know,” you began, a smug look growing on your face. “you have to envision where you want to go when you’re apparating. thinking of me in bed, are you now?”

sirius gulped, burning with nerves at your close proximity. “n-no! i mean, it’s not that i haven’t thought about- shit, i mean- uh, i can go now, if you want.”

you laughed breathily. “you’re good, siri.” you yawned. “maybe… maybe you should stay here for the night. i don’t want you to splinch yourself if you’re tired.”

sirius chewed his lower lip, admiring the side of your face as you fiddled with the edge of your blanket. he was wordless as he tried to steady his breathing.

you turned your head suddenly with wide eyes and met his. “you don’t have to, of course! i don’t want to make you uncomfortable, i just thought-”

“no- oh no, i mean, yes! yes, i’ll stay. i’d love- like to stay. i appreciate it,” he smiled, eyes flickering across your face. you hadn’t realized how close the two of you really were; you could easily kiss him bump heads if you leaned in. of he shuffled a bit closer to you and his thigh brushed yours. “sorry, the bed’s a little small.”

your mouth formed a little O as you scooted over as well, making more room for him. “i hadn’t realized—here, you can have some more space. you’re bigger anyway.”

the two of you awkwardly adjusted as sirius slipped under the covers. he punched the pillow a few times and cozied into a comfortable position. his body faced yours; his breath fanned over your skin.

“hey,” you whispered giddily.

“hi,” he echoed, biting his lip to stop himself from smiling too largely. sirius’ face seemed to melt into something soft—it was a vulnerability you’d never seen from him—as he gazed at you. he almost seemed to marvel at you.

“you’re so beautiful, y’know?” sirius murmured, brushing a few loose hair from your face. when he was finished, he didn’t pull his hand away. instead, he let it cup your cheek gently as he began to rub little semicircles into your skin with his thumbs.

“that means a lot, coming from the prettiest boy i know.” you placed your hand on top of his, hooking his thumb between yours to stop the movement. “my pretty boy, hm?”

your eyelids fluttered. sirius wasn’t sure if you were fully present; you looked half asleep. still, your words made his heart flutter, even though he knew he shouldn’t take them to heart.

“my best girl,” sirius cooed, slipping his hand out from under yours to wrap it around your shoulder instead. he pulled you closer to his chest and you eagerly obliged until the two of you were completely pressed together. you sighed in contentment.

sirius pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. “g’night, lovely. i- i love you.”

you responded with a soft snore.

--

click! a bright flash and twinkling laughter made you open your eyes. you squinted at the harsh light—had somebody left the blinds open? you groaned, making a note for tonight.

you buried your head into your pillow, inhaling a deep breath of the potters’ laundry detergent. you knew the family was rich, but were they so rich that their detergent smelled this heavenly? they must’ve put some sort of spell on the bedding. it was rich; a little smokey, with notes of spice that reminded you of christmas cooking. you smiled to yourself, nuzzling closer. the potters were sweet to invest in something that’d make you feel welcome in their house. you’d never felt so at home.

click! another flash. a chuckle, but deeper and decidedly male. you hummed with annoyance at the interruptions.

your pillow was moving. did the potters enchant the pillows as well?

“dove?” sirius’ raspy morning voice mumbled into your ear. the vibrations tickled your skin and sent goosebumps running down your arms. 

“sirius?” you exclaimed. the ‘enchanted pillow’ was not a pillow at all, it seemed. it was your best friend longtime crush, whose body you’d been cuddling up to all night. well, shit.

“did y’get a good one?” james’ voice floated through the room.

“oi, shut up, prongs. ‘m trying to sleep,” sirius grumbled. he didn’t seem to care about the intimacy of your position. instead, he only tightened his hold on your waist and even brought his other arm to rest at the name of your neck, which allowed him to settle his chin on the crown of your head. you could hear—and feel—the steady thumping of his heart.

as you awoke, you became more aware (and more horrified) at how you’d fallen asleep. one of your legs was bent over his, and his hands were carded through the hairs at the nape of your neck.

“holy shit,” you muttered, pulling sirius’ hands off of you. “sirius, wake up. i think they’re taking pictures of us.” you looked up at james, lily, and remus. “-those little shits.”

“huh?” sirius jolted awake, his arm never leaving your waist. “what in merlin’s name-”

james snickered. “you two seem to have had a good night, eh?” he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“shuddup, prongs,” sirius retorted. “get your head out of the gutter.”

“sirius…” lily ribbed, pursing her lips in amusement.

any annoyance on sirius’ face vanished and was quickly replaced by pure terror. “oh fuck,” he grimaced, before throwing the sheets off his body and running awkwardly to the bathroom while adjusting his pants.

your face heated. lily came by your side, practically in stitches, and you squeaked in shock. james went jogging after sirius, yelling suggestive comments unabashedly.

“so, what was that?” remus probed, sitting on the corner of your bed where sirius had just been laying.

“he was wearing clothes, alright? stop- don’t make this weird,” you pleaded.

“we didn’t say anything about states of undress,” lily chided, looking triumphantly at remus, who sighed.

“what’s it to you, anyway?” you pushed yourself out of bed, fussing with your hair momentarily as you tried to tame your bedhead. “‘s none of your business.”

“oh, but it is. james owes me three galleons,” lily announced. “and remus is coughing up eight sickles.”

“you bet on me?”

“well, not on you, perse,” lily backtracked. “on you and sirius’ relationship. so technically, that’s not either of you. it’s a relationship. aaaanyways, remus thought you were going to get together before summer break, i guessed during the second day of staying here, and james guessed at the end of our stay. and i was right! well, i was a couple hours off. but i still win.”

you closed your eyes, unable to process the audacity of your friends. “you lot are cheeky assholes, y’know that?”

“oh, we know. but these ‘cheeky assholes’ have blackmail now,” lily smirked.

“or, photos and a good story for your wedding,” remus piped in. lily nodded her head eagerly.

“i didn’t take you for a romantic, lupin,” you mumbled, beginning to dig through your clothes and change out of your pajamas. “what time is it, anyway?”

“nine-thirty!” lily chirped, placing emphasis on each number. “we let you two sleep in. it was cute.”

“we aren’t cute.”

“aha! so there’s a ‘we’ now!” james cheered from the doorway. sirius had returned in his normal clothes, still looking a little flustered. you averted your eyes.

“‘m gonna change. goodbye, twats.” you shuffled down the hallway. as much as you pretended to be annoyed by your meddling friends’ antics, you smiled uncontrollably as you heard them interrogate sirius next, who did a much worse job of hiding his feelings.

feelings. were there feelings? and james’ question still stood. was there a ‘we?’

“i’m starving,” james whined, clutching his stomach dramatically. “if we keep pushing off breakfast, i’m going to be too weak for quidditch season next year.”

lily rolled her eyes. “you big baby. c’mon remus, let’s leave the toddler here and make something for ourselves.” lily linked her arm through remus’ and made a big show of trotting away, with james scrambling after them desperately.

when you came to the kitchen, your friends were still fighting playfully over lily’s taunts. “i am not a big baby!” james complained.

“you’re literally throwing a fit right now!” lily laughed, shoving him with her shoulder. you laughed alongside her as you watched james stumble.

sirius, though he’d always found james’ embarrassment to be funny, didn’t laugh. he was watching you, smiling hopelessly at the way your laugh seemed to pierce his senses more sharply than the brightness of the sun, noticing the way your body shook a little from the enthusiasm of your happiness, and staring longingly at your parted lips.

remus thwaked sirius in the back of the head with the most updated copy of the daily prophet. “stop staring like a fucking idiot and do something,” he hissed. sirius found himself pushed off his chair as remus slipped in with a pencil in hand, already immersed in his crossword.

“siri, y’alright?” you giggled, noticing sirius’ unusual quietness and the odd, hazy look in his eyes.

“yeah! ‘m all good.” sirius startling slightly. “thanks, dove.”

sirius made his way beside you and again, wrapped his arm around your waist. you shivered. “are you cold?” sirius asked.

“ah- no. you’re just- you make me nervous,” you said hesitantly. 

sirius’ words were slow, calculated. “in a good way or bad way?” he looked down at you and raised his eyebrows questioningly. he bent down and lowered his voice. “‘cos i’m really hoping it’s a ‘sirius black, you give me butterflies and i’m madly in love with your charisma, luscious hair, and gorgeous face,’ type’a way.”

“ugh,” you groaned, pushing against his chest playfully as your face burned. sirius only strengthened his hold on you. “you wish, black,” you sniffed, tipping your chin up at him haughtily. but then your teasing smile dropped into something intense and genuine. you opened your mouth to speak, but no words came out. 

so, sirius did the speaking for you. cupping your pointed chin in a delicate hand, sirius lowered his head until his lips brushed over yours—just barely. he smilled, his breath warming the planes of your face as he held himself still.

pulling sirius closer down to you by the fabric of his shirt, you dusted your lips across his for a fleeting moment. you pulled away almost immediately, panicking at what you’d just done. sirius shook his head, amused, and pulled you in once more, pressing his lips against yours firmly and holding you there, supported and assured, until you melted comfortably into his mouth.

“siri…” you gasped, pulling away. “oh my merlin, sirius?” you called, chewing your kiss-swollen lip as you watched sirius sway hazily in his spot. he was muttering silent words.

“pads!” james hollered. “way to go, padfoot!” he slammed his hand into the back of sirius’ head.

“ow, what the fuck, mate?” sirius rubbed the spot that james had attacked.

“you dog!” lily shrieked, running around the counter to throw herself at you and wrangle you around excitedly. it seemed that your friends were more passionate about the kiss than you two were.

well, that wasn’t true. the two of you were a bit too dizzy to appreciate the excitement of it all.

from remus’ position at the stove, two eggs came magically whizzing through the air and cracked themselves on top of james and lily’s heads.

“moony! what the hell was that for?” lily sputtered.

“i just did a hair mask last night!” james complained.

remus rolled his eyes, nonchalantly waving his wand over the pan of scrambled eggs he was cooking. “leave the two of ‘em be. i’m sure you’ll have plenty of moments to see them snogging in the future.” remus turned towards the two of you, looking bashful. sirius had given you his hand to hold and you were fiddling with his fingers. he looked very pleased.

remus sighed exasperatedly, before turning back to his eggs. “now you two get out! you’re killing my appetite.”

you and sirius looked at each other, and with bright, childish giggles, you ran out of the kitchen with sirius on your heels. remus huffed grumpily, waving his wand again to scramble the eggs, but unbeknownst to his friends, he cracked a satisfied smile.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

marauders masterlist | main masterlist

taglist:

@im-a-slut-for-fluff @cowboibeepbeep @yourallihave @bambamwolf87

#sirius black imagine #sirius imagine #sirius x reader #sirius black #sirius black x you #sirius x you #sirius black x y/n #sirius x y/n #sirius fluff #sirius black fluff #sirius x you fluff #sirius black x reader #sirius black x reader fluff #sirius black mutual pining #marauders mutual pining #marauders friends to lovers #sirius friends to lovers #sirius mutual pining

[madaboutmunson]

Corroded Coffin are rehearsing a new, extremely thrashy, purely instrumental song. 

Eddie said it didn't need words. They wouldn't do it justice. This was a song that should "Punch you through your chest, grab your spine and tear your skull right out," or at least that's what Eddie said it should do.

Eddie has already nailed the lead, and rhythm guitar parts, essentially thunderous, chugging, down-picked power chords, and a face-melting, ear-splitting solo that sounds like the guitar is howling in pain, screaming.

Gareth and Jeff try their best to replicate the beat Eddie is tapping out and the sounds he's making, and they match it precisely every time.

That's just what you had to get good at real fast when playing with Eddie. He might write down ideas and lyrics, but the music itself...forget about it.

"No. No. No!" Eddie throws himself backward over the empty beer crate in frustration. "Guys, I know it's not you. It's not right. I can't convey what is in my head. I just..." Eddie looks thoughtfully out of the garage, frowning slightly, trying to figure it out.

"How about me and Gareth put our thinking caps on and try to come up with a few things similar to what we already played," Jeff suggests brightly, turning back to Gareth on the kit, who already looks close to exhausted. They had been going at the song all afternoon.

Eddie leaps out of his seat, "What time is it?" he says with urgency looking intensely at Gareth.

"Time you gotta-" Gareth starts before getting cut off by Eddie running around and grabbing his wrist.

"Ok, ok!" Eddie runs into the house.

The band listens at the door.

"Henderson?...*mumbling*...Uh-huh...I just want your opinion on it...oh, I see...noooo, sorry my dude, I can't...oh, he can?...I guess...ok, cool, later" Even though Eddie had made the call to Dustin, his tone was like he was trying to sound as disinterested as possible.

The jangling of chains indicates Eddie is running back to the garage and everyone scrambles back to their original, casual positions.

Eddie bursts back through the door, a wicked grin on his face, "The answer is on the way. Just follow my lead. I need you to say absolutely nothing about it. Just listen and play, alright?"

The band nods. Everyone in Corroded Coffin had their turn to present songs to the band, and each had displayed their fair share of theatrics in rehearsal, so this kind of display wasn't unusual. But this was an Eddie epiphany, and these tended to be the most dramatic. Jeff and Gareth smile at one another knowingly. He had been working on his song since the hospital. He said it was inspired by something he saw when he was on the run.

"How about we take a break, huh?" Eddie says, producing a grocery bag of drinks and snacks for the band, "Take a short rest to max out HP before round 2, yeah?" Eddie unleashes his most charming smile, and of course, the band agrees, even though the practice had already overrun by about an hour.

Twenty minutes later, the familiar BMW rolls up on the driveway. 

Dustin stumbles out of the car in his hurry and rushes towards the band, "So let's hear it!" He's totally hyped about being chosen for an opinion on a Corroded Coffin song.

"Yeah, in a minute..." Eddie says, watching the car.

Steve Harrington emerges, nods a greeting at everyone, and the look on his face reads whatever it was, he was over it. He leans back on the hood of his car, arms folded, and waits, occasionally checking his nails or looking around with a bored expression.

Eddie puts down his guitar and walks into the house.

Dustin stands gobsmacked, gesturing with his hands at the spot Eddie was just standing in and turning around, looking completely lost, to the other band members for answers, but they only have shrugs.

Moments later, Eddie re-emerges, but he's sneaking up behind the car. Something in his hands. Some kind of rubber bat or something. He pulls back his arm and throws it at Steve with all his might.

Steve almost leaves his body for a second when this thing makes contact with the side of his face. He hurriedly grabs it and rips it apart. Eddie is standing there, eyebrows raised and mouth slightly agape.

Then, Steve looks into his hands and turns to Eddie, looking less than impressed. Eddie is snickering, no, he's giggling, and walking backwards into the garage as Steve berates him, hand on hip, accusing finger pointing at a grinning Eddie.

Eddie circles around the drum kit, Steve still pacing after him, and he grabs Gareth's hand and puts it to his chest.

Gareth smiles, "Oooooh, I'm gonna need the double kick pedal for this one" Jeff raises his eyebrows and rushes to get it for him, and sets it up while Gareth can't move.

Eddie is still grinning wildly as Steve lectures him on the dangers of scaring someone who has nearly died on numerous occasions.

Dustin still looks absolutely bewildered until Gareth's sticks smack the skins of his drums, and the double kick pedals against the bass drum start to drown Steve out, even though he's still trying to make himself heard.

"Oh fuck yeah!!" Eddie shouts, "That's fucking it" Jeff follows the rhythm on the bass and starts to move around the notes for the scale in the designated key.

"This is heavy as fuck!!" Dustin shouts, causing Steve to focus on him and his foul language, leaving Eddie free to grab his guitar.

As Eddie swings his sweetheart around into position, he drops into a low rock stance, dragging his plectrum along the strings as he and the rhythm guitar play their parts over the new bass and drums.

The whole band is headbanging in unison, as is Dustin, and Steve gives up, shakes his head, and goes back to leaning against his car, tapping his watch at Dustin.

As Eddie launches into the solo, he runs up to the BMW and leaps onto the hood of it, and makes the guitar squeal. Steve is absolutely not ok with this in any way, he's yelling and waving his arms around, but all it does is make Eddie point his guitar at him as he plays and sticks his tongue out of his mouth like a demon.

Eddie jumps back down once the solo is over, leaving Steve to frantically search his car for something to clean the hood with.

Dustin, a little dazed from all the headbanging, is jumping up and down with the band as the song comes to a close.

"That beast is going in the set list, my dudes!" Gareth gets up from his kit and makes his way over to the wall set list, "Er…what's it called, Eddie?"

Eddie looks a little nervous, "Oh…er…I don't know…I hadn't thought of one yet" Dustin sees him sneakily try to slide a notepad off the crate and onto the floor. Dustin grins and intercepts it, and runs out of Eddie's reach before he can grab it 

Dustin raises his eyebrows at the pad and giggles, "No title, huh? What about this right here at the top of all your notes? Looks like a title to me" Dustin pokes at the pad with a big smile on his face.

"Er…well…that's just when I've been doodling when I'm thinking," Eddie says, trying his best to look unbothered, but he is edging his way towards Dustin and the notepad.

Dustin laughs again, "So are you saying you were just deep in thought, wistfully looking into the distance, absentmindedly doodling, and this is what was on your mind?" Dustin takes a few steps away again, noticing Eddie's subtle approach.

"No, absolutely not that, I just meant…er…it's a working title…yeah, that's it. Yep." Eddie tries again, but the stress is starting to show on his face. His mouth is tense, and his eye twitches a little, "So, if you'd kindly give it back, Dustin!"

Realising there is a joke happening he isn't the butt of, Steve peers over Dustin's shoulder to read the pad. All he says is, "Huh." He shakes his head, puts a hand on his hip, and approaches Eddie.

Eddie looks like a deer in headlights as Steve reaches for the pen sticking out of his mass of hair and returns to Dustin and the pad.

Steve smiles big and laughs, shaking his head, and glances up at Eddie. as he puts pen to pad, Steve says, "Sleeve has two e's in the middle, you silly goose!"

Steve looks proud. Eddie has never looked more relieved, and everyone else is looking at Steve in shock.

"What? It's an easy spelling mistake to make. Anyway, I've fixed it now. You're welcome." Steve says, looking around the garage with wide eyes because not one of these little shits said thank you.

Eddie walks over and smiles smugly at Dustin, taking back his pad, "Yes, thank you very much, Harrington. None of these goons spotted it"

"Anytime, Munson," Steve claps his hands together at Dustin, "Henderson, come on, the game is gonna start soon."

As Dustin gets into the car, Eddie gives them a little dainty finger wave, the smug grin still on his face. 

He's never been more grateful to have forgotten to cross a t in his life.

This song when Corroded Coffin make it big

AO3 Link

#eddie munson #stranger things #eddiemunson #eddie stranger things #steveharrington #steve harrington #steve stranger things #steddie #steddie fic #dustinhenderson #dustin henderson #corrodedcoffin #corroded coffin #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #steddie fanfic #steddie ficlet #minific #madaboutmunsonmini #madaboutmunson

[renthony]

I haven't enjoyed a Marvel movie since I stopped bothering to keep up with the MCU in 2014. I don't care for most Marvel movies. I think Marvel Studios is a case study in things that are shitty in the entertainment industry. But holy shit, pretentious posts along the lines of "haha, I don't watch Marvel films, I have real taste, go watch another movie!" are so fucking annoying.

Like, go put up your middle finger at some preps or something. People are allowed to watch whatever they want and enjoy whatever movies they want and make whatever fandom stuff they want, and that doesn't say anything about their intelligence or morals or character. It doesn't mean they are somehow bad at watching movies, or are too stupid to realize whatever nugget of wisdom ye high-and-mighty Marvel Haters think you're the only ones to understand.

Again, not personally a Marvel fan, but this whole "haha, I'm better than Marvel fans" relates to something I've been musing on about media analysis as a whole. There is a persistent idea that mass entertainment is inherently lower quality or less artistic because it's made for a wide audience, and that bad art isn't worth analyzing or engaging with just because it's low quality. In this mindset, the only art that has the possibility to be any good at all is 100% independent projects made by amateurs, and anything produced by a studio or with wide appeal is inherently poser art with absolutely nothing meaningful to say. In this mindset, you can't possibly learn anything or take anything from bad art, and if you find meaning in bad art, you're clearly just stupid and uneducated and have bad taste.

The thing is? Liking bad art is not a sin. Having a different opinion about what constitutes "bad art" is not a sin. Finding something entertaining despite its flaws is not a sin. Studying bad art is not a sin. You can learn a lot from bad art, you can learn a lot from interpreting propaganda, you can learn a lot from engaging with things even if you don't think they're very "good."

My vaudeville research keeps turning up author after author who talks about vaudeville as some sort of "point of no return," like the performing arts all turned to shit the second things were intended to be seen by more than a single audience for a single show. Popularity gets equated with lack of skill or quality, because all the performers were "just pandering to the audience" instead of relying on "real skill."

For one, what the fuck does that even mean, but for two, the theatrical quality of vaudeville isn't what makes it interesting and worth engaging with. Every single thing that ever came out of vaudeville could be 100% total utter garbage, but vaudeville would still be worth studying because of how influential it still is on arts and entertainment today. It has significant historical and educational merit. And some of it is still genuinely fun and entertaining, once you pick out all the things that didn't age well or were just plain bigoted. There's artistic merit in those old sketches and songs, and there's meaning to be drawn from plenty of it even here in 2023.

You want to learn about the Hays Code? Well, let's talk about how early films were shown on projectors on vaudeville stages, so vaudeville censorship went on to influence American film censorship. Let's talk about how we still use slang to this day that originated on vaudeville, such as "skit" or "one night stand" or "ad lib" or "the big time." Vaudeville is still in the bones of the modern American entertainment industry and pop culture, and you can't really escape that influence.

People in modern day use Marvel movies as proof that big studio films are singlehandedly responsible for the decline of art, and there is nothing to learn from them or see in them at all, ever. But to me, "Marvel movies are bad" is such a flat, uninteresting observation, because when it comes to media analysis, it doesn't really matter if Marvel films are good or entertaining. If you want to actually dig into the problems with big-budget summer Hollywood blockbusters, and the way they're impacting the industry as a whole, you have to go deeper than "pop culture is all stupid stuff for stupid people, unlike me, who isn't like other girls actually has good taste in media!"

There are so many more factors at play than "mass entertainment = bad art." Let's look at the ways capitalism screws over small creators and forces them to seek funding from the very same studios that fuck them over. Let's talk about how the actual workers in the industry are fighting tooth and fucking nail against the exact same things all the Marvel haters harp on about. Let's talk about studios that accept funding from the United States Government to turn superhero comics into propaganda films, and then threaten the actual workers with never having a career again if they complain or quit. Let's talk about how the actors are regularly abused and treated to hostile work environments.

Let's talk about the people who made the films, because the films were not made by a CEO pressing the "make movie" button. The workers made those films. The workers were exploited by those studios. Let's try giving a shit about them, instead of taking the "haha, Marvel fans are stupid and cringe" route.

There is so much more fucking nuance and detail and conversation about mass media as a topic, and boiling it down to, "art made for a wide audience is inherently shitty and has nothing to say."

You're not a better, more intelligent, more educated person just because you don't like Marvel movies. Making posts about how much better you are than Marvel fans does nothing to either explain or tackle the issues in the entertainment industry.

It just makes you look like a dickhead.

#original post

[answer2jeff]

when it rolls in like thunder:

chapter 1.5 — anyone else but you.

DISCLAIMER: half chapters are much shorter and used as wholesome, or not ;), fillers for the series! they're essentially palate cleansers so you can be emotionally prepared for more angst + hurt/comfort in the full chapters. however, you won't need to read these half chapters to understand context in full ones.

husband!carmy x hispanic!wife!reader

teaser. chapter 1. next chapter.

warnings : reader occasionally speaks some Spanish that Carmen hasn't picked up on. he thinks it's endearing. nothing else really. just very fluffy and touching. just good ol' sappy carmen and his wife going out for the day before the honeymoon!

authors note : this series is not doing well and it's kinda killing me inside but that's okay! just for funzies. also, the end is mostly dialogue. got a little lazy. sorry!

word count : 3k (not as short as i thought it would be ngl..)

highly recommend listening to the series playlist.

song(s) for this chapter : anyone else but you, & everyone adores you (at least i do)

"14.56? You're kidding me!"

Your eyes scan over the rainbow assortment of fresh, boxed fruit, the overpriced strawberries immediately grasping your attention. But not necessarily in a good way. Neither you or Carmen can totally remember who's idea it was to walk to the farmers market in this dry heat. It's not like you don't enjoy long walks, but it comes with cons. Pollen irritates your nose and the wind always messes up your hair.

You tug at Carmen's shirt, which, for once, isn't a tight-fitting pure cotton tee. It almost looks a little big on him, the sleeves rolled and cuffed perfectly so they still hug his arms. It's collared too. That ring on his finger makes your knees weak. He smells like the cologne he used to snag from Mikey's bathroom as a teenager. Richie got him his own bottle for Christmas the year after his passing and he's been wearing a spray or two on his neck and the insides of his wrists every 'special occasion' ever since.

And a hint of cigarette smoke. But you like it.

You always have.

He looks good. Fresh. Clean. Yours.

"Wow. I mean—" Carmen lets out a breathy chuckle that isn't quite loud enough to be a laugh, "it's a massive box. And it's strawberry season: May."

Still, despite his persuasive tone and the big hand that sits in the back pocket of your jean shorts as he stands beside you, it's not enough to convince you it's reasonable.

"But—"

"And we're at a farmers market, like, 10 minutes away from our place. Convenience costs money, baby."

Carmen peers down at you, retracting his hand from your rear and teasingly pushing your head into his shoulder. You pout. You don't want him to be right. The dramatics are fun.

"Pero, que es eso? Quieren que yo pago casi quince dólares para unos pinche fresas?" You throw your hands up, directly pointing to the tempting, fresh, and beautifully red fruit.

Carmen only nods. Even after 2 years of accidentally eavesdropping on your conversations, filled with the Spanish slang and sometimes vulgar language you've been using your whole life, he still hasn't quite learned much. Most of the time, he's too anxious to ask you what you're saying. He worries it'll make you stop doing it in front of him.

Until he comes to Tina, desperately. She'll ask him for the details but he can only remember bits and pieces of your one-sided conversations with him. She laughs for a moment or makes her eyes go theatrically wide just to fuck with his head. But eventually, she tells him the truth.

You only know this because Tina immediately started cracking jokes after she spent 15 minutes crying over your engagement, and then another 25 over your official elopement. 'Sacaste con un puré, gringo, mi vida! He needs patience!' she'd say to you whenever Carmen did the most minuscule thing that not-so-accidentally set you off.

"Mi amor," you turn to him, pinching your fingers and widening your eyes to make sure he's really paying attention, even if he doesn't understand you, "podemos comprar la misma cosa en Walmart, or algo así!"

The look in his eyes suggests that he didn't catch most of that. The only words he picked up were "mi amor" and "Walmart," obviously. He just assumes you're continuing your pointless bicker. But he doesn't have the heart, or even the want, to stop you.

He does love the way your nicknames for him roll off of your tongue. It warms something in him. Almost as if he believes your words capture your feelings and fully encapsulates him better than boring English ever does. They're smooth and they stick to his brain hours, or even days after they're spoken to him. In fact, he's been pretending he didn't faintly hear you whisper into his curls as he drifted off to sleep 'te amo con todo mi alma' last night, all fucking morning. It's the only full sentence you've ever spoken to him that he's been able to engrave into his memory.

"Uh-huh," he chuckles as he nods his head slowly, his dimples cinching in near the corners of his mouth. His skin looks a little tanner and brighter than usual. The veins in his eyelids are nearly invisible now, and the little moles that are scattered around his face and body are so much darker now. You thank the spring, nearly reaching the tips of summer, sun for bringing some life back to him. But you're not done complaining. So, you try not to smile in awe of your husband.

"Ó sea, que, are they gonna make me grow a magical straw-baby?"

"What, like—like how people say you'll grow a watermelon in your stomach if you swallow a seed?"

"Yeah! Like that!"

"I don't know, peach. Maybe?"

"It's not worth finding out."

"Yeah. Definitely not."

Despite this, you guys buy the damn strawberries.

You continue walking through the market and stopping at every other intricate little selection of produce, picking up ingredients for tonight's, tomorrow's, and the next day's dinner. You're still snacking on the overpriced strawberries, the entire carton in hand. Carmen occasionally lets you pop one in his mouth. He contently bites right before the stem and swallows. They're perfectly ripe, sweet, and juicy. And unfortunately a tad bit sticky. In the end, they're worth the aggressive price tag.

Finally, you stop in your tracks at a flower stand. Bouquets tied together with white ribbonYou're immediately drawn to the vibrant red of the roses and the pure, angelic white of the mums. Oh god, and you're convinced the baby's breath tucked in neatly between each gap that couldn't be closed by blooming petals could remedy the need for plant life in your living room. The fantasy makes you feel like you just can't leave without taking some of these gorgeous flowers with you.

"Mm—" you point, your mouth full of mushy strawberries, "those look really nice."

For a moment, Carmen hesitates. Those flowers will shrivel. They will lose their once attractive and captivating saturation of color. He's not even sure if they'll last more than 72 hours, given how bloomed the petals are. But you still have those clay vases from your engagement party. And he still loves to make you happy. Despite their fleeting nature, your appreciation for his gestures will last forever. Even if their lifespan doesn't.

Carmen's had this tendency for longer than either of you can pinpoint. Having money he doesn't need, money he doesn't use, has led to him making some questionable decisions. All in good faith. But impractical nonetheless. Take, for example, that time he bought you a Cartier love bracelet for your 1 year anniversary.

Yes, you heard that right. Cartier. The gold and shiny flat bands that required the disassembling and unscrewing of 18 karat gold bolts with a miniature fucking screwdriver. Oh, and this was even after you and him agreed to 'no gifts,' as you were already planning a trip to Copenhagen. The reaction he received from you wasn't quite what he expected. Tears streaming down your face and the kiss on his cheek to compensate for the lack of a proper gift for him was not part of the thoroughly walked through plan he wrote in his head. But your happiness is his, in the purest and pathetic and shameless way. He realized this the moment he screwed that last bolt and secured the thin piece of gold against the circumference of your wrist.

It's around 4pm, and the glistening sun is just slightly past its highest peek. Bright transparent blue and green spoons made from hard plastic swirl around in the cheap, (and definitely not authentic) gelato you share. Outdoor seating wasn't the first option, now that spring was slowly evolving into another scorching hot Chicago summer, but the AC of the parlor was sure to give you hypothermia.

"Fuckin' hot out here. Can't see," Carmen mutters, taking a small bite of the creamy pistachio mixture. He squints at the blinding beam of the sunlight. You felt a little guilty for letting him sit right in the direction of the sun. But he insisted.

"Did y'know blue eyes are more sensitive to sunlight?" You raised your brows, wiping the corner of your mouth and licking the gelato residue from it.

"Seriously?" Carmen leans forward, putting his hand above his eyes as a makeshift visor. His hand reaches out to adjust the heart shaped sunglasses that started to fall off of your head.

"Here," you hand them to him, feeling bad that you'd completely forgotten about them.

"And yes, seriously," you nod, hovering over the table and adjusting the sunglasses so they'd rest perfectly on Carmen's nose before sitting back down, "It's because blue eyes have less melanosomes compared to green and brown eyes."

A simple, "thank you, baby," would've sufficed, but kisses your lips, gently cradling your jaw and barely letting a breath of air slip through the empty space between your mouths after the 3rd kiss. Alas, you remove your lips from his and sit back down.

"Is there, like—"

"An exact number?" You finished his sentence.

"Yeah."

"Yes, actually. Blue eyes have 3 in each, green eyes have 5, and brown eyes usually have around 9 to 12 depending on how deep the color is."

You smile, shrugging your shoulders as you try to remain humble. It's impressive, he has to admit. Carmen's always been fascinated by your knowledge of pointless information. He wishes he could store and retain so much of what you know. But for now, he'll just admire you for it. He'll contemplate his lack of ability to remember things like patterns and bullet pointed facts that didn't relate to culinary arts later.

"Huh," he crosses his arms against his chest, his button up shirt squeezing his flesh and showing his slightly faded tattoos "kinda makes sense."

Letting out a laugh or two, you take another disappointing bite of the fake gelato monstrosity. It's not that it doesn't taste decent, but the texture is off and the crystallized ice that formed around the sides is unappealing for the price. Carmen had doubts since the moment you dragged him in by the hand like a greedy kid spotting a candy store. But he didn't say anything. What's the point of using his knowledge and skills to crush making you happy? It wasn't necessary at the time.

But, much to his pleasure of being correct, but his dismay of your disappointment, you aren't the biggest fan of it in the end.

"This isn't great," you swallow, shaking your head and dropping the spoon back into the paper cup in defeat as the green and nutty mixture went down your throat for the last time.

"It's not real," Carmen joins you, just to end up dropping his spoon in the same unfulfilling manner, too. "Most gelato places aren't. Gelato's dense. Not fluffy."

You nod, pushing the cup to the side and interlocking your fingers into his. His calloused fingertips gently caress the back of your hand and go over every little vein and mole that shines through your soft and soothing skin. He's become pretty fond of the whole hand-holding thing. Especially with that pretty rock on your finger. It's delicate. You're delicate. You're his.

"You've been doing that since the day we met, y'know," you hold onto his hand tighter, smiling and snatching your sunglasses back from his face with one swift motion before he can protest.

"What? Explaining shit about food you don't care about?" Carmen chuckles, his teeth showing. Sometimes he was embarrassed of his info-dumping, but he's learned to not be so shameful of it. You find it interesting. He doesn't really notice that he does it anymore.

"Yeah. But it's cute. It's what made me wanna keep talking to you. You don't do it to make me feel stupid, or something. You just.."

You paused to think.

"You know a lot about what you do, Carm. You're passionate."

Ah. The day you met.

Around 3 years ago, you'd just moved to the bustling city of Chicago after writing and successfully selling a beautiful script to an indie short film, which ended up being undeserving of your work due to the poor execution of dialogue. It didn't even end up showing at the film festival you were practically forced to attend. Even after co-writing and directing film projects and not-so-popular cinematic pieces, you hadn't tasted the pleasure of success. You dreamed to write something all on your own and conjure up a moving script of the century. You figured moving to a brand new city would get the creative juices flowing. Eventually, it did, but it took a boring circle of friends and a couple sleepless nights before you were successfully back and thriving in the industry.

You decided celebrating with an appletini or two at a shitty Karaoke bar down the block from your apartment was the best option. And thank god you did.

Carmen caught your eye the moment you detached yourself from your social circle to smoke a cigarette or two outback in the alleyway to melt the anxiety that started to consume you once you got a little tipsy for the first time in months. The tattoo on his hand and the way he crouched down on the asphalt beside Richie who complained endlessly about the complexities of his divorce was intriguing.

You butted into their conversation and lit a cigarette of your own, politely greeting them. Richie didn't say much. It's like he knew it would be Carmen's opportunity to function like a normal person and have a pleasant conversation with a random bar girl in black pantyhose and combat boots. The two of you discussed moving back to Chicago, discovering that Carmen actually grew up there and started a new life of culinary exploration and expertise, while you just needed a sense of control and escapism.

After the conversation had reduced to mundane small talk, visibly making both of you tense up, you finally got his name: Carmen Berzatto. His use of his full name was a little displacing. It made you wonder if you should've known who he was, considering his surprisingly humble background check. You couldn't help but want to know if there was more to him than his career. More than his cigarettes and his tattoos and his weird love-hate relationship with his family friend he called 'cousin' for no real particular reason.

More than the restaurant he'd been trying to revive.

That night caused him to come to the realization that he didn't actually know if there was more to him. Ever since that conversation and its rude interruption of Richie's right hook into some random guys face landing him in a cell overnight, he's been forming into a real person instead of the outer shell that is his job as a chef. He asked about your films, your projects, what made you start working in cinematography, and who your inspirations were. You answered completely honestly and wholeheartedly with every question, never making him feel a burden for his curiosity.

You could tell he was nervous with the way his voice shook and his breath went uneven with every look.

"I was kinda scared to talk to you when you came up to me," Carmen smiles, running his free hand through his dry and defined blonde curls. You squinted in disbelief.

"What? Me?"

"Yeah. I don't know, I–" he shrugs, leaning forward to get even closer to your again "you were cool right off the bat. You still are. Possibly a lot cooler than me."

You roll your eyes playfully, refusing to take the compliment in a fit of flattery. Constantly being humble around Carmen was kinda hard. Especially with the way he unintentionally showered you with compliments that were really just state of facts to him. But he didn't want you to be humble. He wanted you to own that shit.

"And you're beautiful. So, so beautiful. I think that scared me a little, too."

"I think I might've been more nervous than you were. I was just so determined to talk to the hot guy with tattoos and a blue apron over a slutty white t-shirt that I tried desperately to hide it," you joked, laughing harder at the sight of an eyeroll of his own.

"Yeah, well, look at us now. Married," Carmen smiles, gently pushing a strand of your hair behind your ear and exposing your decorated lobe with earrings Natalie gifted you for your birthday last year. "I'm glad you stuck it out. You always do. All the time."

Carmen gushes over your ability to 'always know what to say,' when you know deep down your life is just a constant cycle of 'figuring it out' and 'going with the flow' of inevitable highs and lows of life as you go on. Your brilliance is so organic. Everything about you has always been the purest form of excellence and love to him. Even when he barely knew you.

"Can I ask you a really stupid question?" You bite at the inside of your cheek, your hand releasing from Carmen's so you could clasp your palms together in a pleading motion.

"Sure."

You pause, swallowing the familiar lump that hasn't formed in your throat since the first time you told him you wanted every part of him in your life.

"When..." you breathe in sharply through your nose, "did you realize, 'oh yeah, I need to spend the rest of my life with her.' Was there any specific moment?"

Almost without a second thought, Carmen answers with a blush against his cheeks and his hand grasping yours again at the loss of physical contact.

"Probably the first time we kissed."

That response surprises you more than it probably should. That night in your apartment changed his course and perspective on love and life for the rest of eternity. He learned to slow down and let himself fail and pick the pieces of his mistakes back up.

"I love you, Carmy."

"I love you."

He says it back hungrily like he needs it to be branded into the ridges of your mind. And at this rate, it might've already been stamped into your memories of him.

current taglist : @lemmejustpulloutmylightsaber @fallinallinmendes @sexyyounglatinoboy @febris-amatoria

#carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto fluff #husband!carmy x wife!reader #carmen berzatto x hispanic!reader #the bear x reader #when it rolls in like thunder #carmen berzatto series #wow this took forever #hope u guys enjoy this little number #gotta keep my followers fed

[sky-kiss]

YAS! Free time is best time! Hmm for prompts, I love the idea of low intelligence Tav and Raphael? Like Tav convinced Raphael is a Fae? Man offered her food, won’t call her by her name, rhymes, and wants to make deals. He’s totally a fae, and he gets so pissy she won’t be convinced otherwise.

Or for spicy prompt. I know it’s not everyone’s thing, but innocent Tav being deflowered by Raphael as part of a deal? Or cockwarming, that’s my favorite as well.

A/N: Had to fight, had to actively restrain myself for going for one of these prompts. Will do the scenario though. And I weep. But when Idiot!Tav calls, I answer.

______

R/T: Local Devil Tries to Flirt; Local Idiot Too Far Gone for Banter

______

There are mortal eccentricities he finds charming. Ambition, for one! Their pluck! The gods create meager little creatures, soft, small, and weak, yet they forge ahead! Unconcerned by their relative lack of status in the universe! He'd go so far as to say he admires the trait. And there is something endearing in their youthful naivete, comparative ignorance of the outer planes. Raphael is not so proud as to admit he has not actively exploited this lack of knowledge in the past. It's always served his best interests! 

But it can be, and currently is, a double-edged sword. The cambion strokes his chin, lips pressed to a thin line, as he surveys his champion. His little mouse regards him with narrowed eyes and a vacant stare. "Come, my dear! Eat and make merry for tomorrow," he prolongs the sentence, letting it hang between them with a practiced theatricality. "You may die." 

"Is that a threat?" 

Raphael chuckles, shifting his weight to the back foot, his right hand pressed to his sternum. "From me? Have I been ought but a friend? A champion, an advocate, in this your hour of need?" 

She huffs, "I can't see that you've done a thing for us. You dangle a deal and won't let me take it!"

"The thrill of anticipation, sweetling. Best in all things." He winks. 

She does not reciprocate. Her brows pulled together; she frowned, arms crossing her chest- not the body language Raphael wanted. In truth, he's been finding the whole arrangement a touch challenging. There's no back-and-forth or witty banter- not like he planned it. Tav shakes her head. "And that's another thing. I'm not your sweetling. Or your dear. I'm Tav. Can you manage Tav?" 

"We're certainly feeling combative, aren't we?" The devil narrows his eyes. 

"You can do it, can't you?" 

And he's momentarily struck by the notion that she isn't challenging him; she's genuinely curious if he can do it. Raphael hums, "Nuanced as it is, I am perfectly capable of naming you, Tav. Is that satisfactory?" 

She shakes her head. "I don't trust you." 

"Clever girl. Only you don't have to trust me. There is something deliciously illicit in such partnerships—a hint of intrigue. A flash of- "He leans nearer, flourishing with his right hand. Sparks dance from the tips of his fingers. "Danger." 

"No good ever came from the fae-folk." 

"My dear, I assure you, I…" Raphael cuts off, brain catching up to his tongue. "Beg pardon? Fae?"

"Fae," she repeats. Tav eyes him with renewed caution, hand slipping to the hilt of her (comically ineffectual) cold-iron knife. "I'm many things, Raphael, but I'm no fool."

"Truly." He licks his lips. It's rare for him to be purely baffled, but here it is. Nothing about her suggests she's joking. A quick peak in the little idiot's head suggests she believes her statement with absolute certainty. He crosses his arms over his chest, indicating himself with a hand sweep. "My dear, what do you make of all this?" The horns, red skin, the tail…clearly infernal. 

She shakes her head. "A devil would deal more honestly. I'd be more inclined to trust them. This is…a glamor. Convincing, but false."

He blanches. "What." 

"You bring me here. You make me pretty promises and ply me with wine and sweet words. You speak in riddles and songs!" He wants to argue that those are all devilish traits, but gods, why bother? Raphael pinches the bridge of his nose. "Devils may be evil, Raphael, but at least they're honest."

"To their detriment, apparently." He sighs. "Pet…" 

"Tav." 

"Tav," he corrects, feeling his temperature rise in response to his temper. "I have offered a contract, its terms clearly stated."

"No. You've offered me a deal. No contract, no terms. And the matter with the Orthon! A purely verbal arrangement. No devil worth their salt would go along with that." 

"How dare you! Impertinent, thoughtless…" Raphael catches himself. He makes a mental ten count and assures himself the deal will be done shortly. It all comes back to the crown. He needs them. He…gods, he has to play along. It tastes like bile on his tongue. "Fae, yes. You've found me out, pet. A…creature of chaos. Such am I." 

Tav nods. "Thank you for your honesty." 

He honestly considers strangling the little idiot. 

#bg3 raphael #raphael x tav #bg3 #asks #my writing #Shes too dumb to live your honor #hes gonna have to put her down #its for her own good

[meet-you-at-the-north-star]

Save the Last Dance For Me

Summary: you and Dick have been dating in secret, until at a party he’s forced by circumstances (coff George Luz coff) to set things straight

Notes: fluff, jealousy

Word count: 1068

“I don't believe you actually have a boyfriend. You were saying that just to throw me off” The brown-eyed soldier insisted in a mocking way.

I smiled to myself and glanced furtively behind me, more or less where I knew the man I was secretely dating must have been.

“Oh you better believe it, George” I crossed my arms and leaned against the wall, looking at him quite amused.

“Then who is it? Why is it such a secret?” He asked rolling his eyes.

“I'm really not sure you want to know” I smirked, and that was certainly no lie.

“Alright, alright” he raised his arms in surrender. “Tell you what, let's make a deal: I stop asking about this mysterious guy if you agree to dance with me.” The tone was hopeful: “Just one song” He specified, noticing my raised eyebrow.

I didn't see anything wrong with giving him one dance, so I agreed: “Okay, but I don't want to hear another word about it.” I warned him.

He flashed a toothy smile and offered me his hand, in such a funny and theatrical way that it made me burst out laughing. "You're an idiot"

“I know” He winked.

We began to move to the center of the wide room, where other couples were already dancing. He wasn't exactly a talented dancer and kept tripping over my feet, making us both laugh.

About a minute and a half into the song, we managed to find a slightly more synchronized rhythm. I looked up at his face and little by little his usual playful smile had disappeared, his eyes instead fixed on me with an unusually serious and intense look that left little room for misunderstandings.

Uh oh, I thought. This wasn’t good news. I had been too naive to think that accepting to dance with him wouldn’t send involuntary mixed signals.

“George…” I said, instinctively moving away to leave more space between our bodies.

The song we were dancing to came to an end just then. “One more song?” He half pleaded, his expression so hopeful that it broke my heart a little. I didn’t want to be the one to do this to him.

I looked at him gently. “I'm sorry, I can't” I started to take a step back, but he didn't let go of my left hand, still intertwined with his, almost as if he was struggling and fighting the urge to draw me back to him.

“George” I repeated, voice calm but with a hint of warning.

Before I could do or say anything else, I felt a slight shift of air and then a hand coming to rest lightly on my side. I didn't need to look to know who it belonged to.

George’s eyes widened and he immediately let go of my hand. “Major Winters!” He almost stood at attention. “I-I didn't see you there”

I finally allowed myself to shift my attention to Dick. His gaze was firmly fixated on George and he was barely blinking. I saw no trace of anger or irritation in it (though I knew he was quite good at disguising those), but a clear determination that spoke much louder than words.

“No need for formalities, private, this is a party. I trust that you're having fun?” His tone was calm and polite as usual, but for once almost unnaturally so. As a consequence, it came across as slightly menacing.

George must have sensed the trap, because he soon started babbling: “Yes, sir! I mean…a normal, regular amount of fun. Nothing special going on here. Just one dance” He really stressed the word one.

“I'm glad to hear that” Dick smiled, at last turning his attention towards me. “Because I was really looking forward to this next one. Can I have the honor, miss?”

My heart skipped a beat at that. Jealousy was a new but certainly rather good look on him.

“Of course you can, major” I decided to play along even though it was pretty clear, what he was doing.

When I looked to the side, George had already vanished into thin air. I gave a small chuckle. “You didn't need to terrorize him like that”

“I did no such thing” he said with a smirk, quickly intertwining our fingers, while his other hand was still firmly resting on my right side. The band began playing a slower tempo, romantic song and I gladly let him lead me into the music. He was a pretty good dancer. Then again, I was yet to find anything he couldn’t do well.

Both of my eyebrows shot up. “Are you sure? What happened to keeping secrecy above all?” I teased him.

“Well, it felt like the situation required that I come clean.” He whispered very close to my ear. “Besides, you didn't seem to mind all that much”

I felt a warm rush of adrenaline going through my body, and hoped I wasn't blushing outwardly as I was on the inside.

I recognized it as the effect only he had on me. Being in his arms felt so natural and right, it left no space for doubt in regards to my feelings for this man, and his for me. And I really didn't mind one bit.

“Who are you and what have you done to Dick Winters” I shook my head in disbelief, laughing.

“Does that mean that I should stop?” He inquired.

Without interrupting our slow swaying back and forth to the rhytmn, I placed both of my hands around his neck, bringing him closer, allowing myself to stare straight into his eyes. “Don't you dare”

I saw a brief flash of hesitation passing through those blue eyes, like an implicit request for permission, and I nodded, smiling.

“I've been waiting to do this all night” He gently cupped my face in his hands and kissed me, slowly but ardently, in front of everyone.

I could hear a few gasps and cheers in the background over the sound of the music playing, but when we turned around everybody had gone back to the party acting as if nothing happened.

“You know, major, your men will definitely talk after this” I jokingly protested.

I could feel his smile on my lips as he kissed me again: “Let them”

#alright we’re doing this. #hopefully good soul will read it and let me know what they think 💕 #dick winters x reader #dick winters #george luz #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers #band of brothers fanfic #my fics

[hyunsvngs]

𝐡𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 - hwang hyunjin x gender neutral reader

wc: 1.1k words

cw: none - just fluff!

a/n: hello everyone! billy here, dropping my first post. it's a short and sweet one, hope you all enjoy :)

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

There was nothing stranger than watching your friends grow up and get married. It had been strange enough seeing them all settle down into relationships, watching in equal parts awe and envy as they each met the one. But marriage? It all seemed so grown up. So utterly terrifying. Most days, you still felt like a kid. This sort of thing was barely even on your horizon. Yet there you were, at Chan’s wedding.

“Are you ready to go, darling?” Hyunjin asked, holding his hand out to you. You took it with a smile, hoping your cheeks weren’t flushing as brightly as you thought. At least you had a boyfriend for the night.

It had worked out that you and Hyunjin were the only members of the friend group forced to attend solo. Everyone else was bringing their fiances, partners, dates; so you thought it might be fun to couple up for the night. Strictly platonically, of course.

You really had no idea how or why Hyunjin was still single. Out of all of your friends, he was the most romantic, the very embodiment of “boyfriend material.” Though he’d never so much as been on a date. You sometimes wondered if maybe nobody was good enough for him - you knew Hyunjin didn’t think this way though. He was far from pretentious, he loved everyone.

All in all, it was a beautiful day. Chan and his partner were beaming with joy, the venue was lovely, and the food was delicious. Sure, seeing everyone around you all loved-up and happy was absolutely sickening (and by that you meant incredibly jealousy-inducing), but you and Hyunjin were having fun. Somewhere along the line, you’d decided to play up the whole relationship for a day thing, purely for the theatrics of it. And maybe to deflect from your loneliness a little bit too.

A slow song began to play, the melody sweet and gentle. You and Hyunjin looked at each other, and you noticed a mischievous glint in his eyes. 

“Would you honour me with a dance, my love?” he asked, grinning at you.

You put on a fake gasp. “Hyunjin, my dear! Nothing would make me happier than a dance with the love of my life!”

The charade went mostly ignored by the people around you. They were growing tired of the facade; it had been amusing at first, but grew old. Not to you and Hyunjin, though. You snickered as you walked towards the dance floor together. You rested your hands on his shoulders, while his found your waist. You swayed together slowly to the music. 

Hyunjin’s eyes sparkled, reflections of fairy lights twinkling like stars. You looked deeply into them, getting lost in those dark pools of bliss. Until he brought you back, snapping you back to reality with his low voice.

“This has been fun,” he said, genuinely.

“Yeah,” you agreed with a bashful smile. “I’ve really enjoyed myself today.” 

He smiled down at you, gently. “We make a pretty good team, you and me.”

You nodded. “You’ve been a wonderful fake boyfriend.” You paused, before adding, “You’re gonna make someone really happy someday, Hyun.”

He broke your gaze, cheeks flaming red. “Don’t say that,” he stammered with a nervous giggle. You apologised, although you couldn’t help but laugh at how bashful he was.

The two of you lost yourself in the moment once more, swaying in a comfortable silence. You spent a lot of time around Hyunjin - of course, he was one of your best friends. But you felt it had been a while since you really looked at him. He was probably the prettiest boy you knew, but today he looked absolutely stunning. His hair was gently pushed back, his sharp, well-fitted suit accentuating his slender frame. He was beautiful.

You felt your heart begin to race. You didn’t know if you were just getting caught up in make-believe, but you found yourself wanting this for real. You wanted this night to last forever - no, you wanted it to push past tonight. You wanted to slow dance like this, together in his kitchen, after cooking dinner together. You wanted to hold his hand as you shopped together, you wanted to sit nestling your cup of tea while you watch him paint, you wanted - 

“I could almost kiss you right now.”

You blinked. Had you heard that correctly, or were you becoming truly delusional?

“I’m sorry-”

“No, don’t apologise.” You hushed him. “I was just surprised.” You knew very well what kissing meant to Hyunjin. You’d shared platonic kisses with many of your friends, but not him. He’d made it clear that he’d only kiss someone if he was in a relationship with them, if he truly wanted to be with them. So why was he saying this to you now? 

He gave a small laugh. “I-I know… I just…” He smiled at you softly. “I want to kiss you.”

You smiled back at him. “Are you sure? Because I’ll kiss you, but only if you’re sure.”

He paused. “Not here. Not in front of everyone.”

“Okay,” you giggled at him. “Okay, let’s go.”

Hyunjin took your hand, interlocking his long, slender fingers with yours. He led you out of the room, and you ran down the hallway together, hand-in-hand, giggling like a pair of teenagers. You stopped around the corner, Hyunjin leaning against a table.

You stroked his cheek gently. “Are you sure you’re sure about this?” you double checked.

“I’m sure,” he nodded. “I… I know this hasn’t been real today. I know this was just pretend, just for fun. But even still, you’re my partner for today. So I don’t mind ending the night with a kiss.”

Your heart swelled, hammering in your chest as you spoke these next words. “It doesn’t have to be just for tonight.”

Hyunjin’s pretty lips parted in surprise. “Are you saying…”

You nodded. “Be mine, Hyunjin. For real. For longer than just tonight.” 

He was quiet for a moment, and you almost began to backtrack, apologies rising in your throat and threatening to spill out - until he kissed you. His lips were soft, warm, delicate. A little tentative, landing lightly on your own. You rested your hand on his chest, leaning in closer.

Hyunjin pulled away, planting another kiss on your forehead for good measure. “That was nice,” he whispered.

“Yeah,” you agreed. “It really was.”

He kissed you once more, a second-long peck that made you smile. “Are you sure you want to do this, Hyun? You aren’t just getting caught up in today’s act?”

He shook his head decisively. “I’ve felt this way forever.”

You looked at him in surprise. “You have?” He nodded. “Yeah… me too.” You kissed his nose gently, making him giggle.

Distantly, from the main reception room, you heard Bruno Mars singing through the speakers - something you never could resist.

“C’mon, let’s get back out there.”

“Nobody will even know it’s not an act any more,” Hyunjin laughed, taking your hand and walking with you.

“Well, we can’t steal Chan’s thunder, can we? We’ll share the news some other time. Until then, it’s our little secret.”

Hyunjin hummed. “Hidden in plain sight.” 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

taglist: @moasworld . @sunnyhonie . @seungincore . @msaddictions

#billy's fics ☆ #stray kids #stray kids fluff #hyunjin #hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin x reader #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin fanfic #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids x reader #kpop

[caesium-55]

Lewis just wants to sleep. He's tired. He just arrived yesterday from Las Vegas and he needs to grant himself a lazy day or else, he'll go insane. He already planned out a perfect morning. You, on the bed with him in the most innocent sense—Lewis wouldn't mind sex because sex is nice and all but he also loved just resting with you and basking in your existence and your being—freely drifting in and out of the realm of sleep, no annoying alarm waiting to ruin his morning with that god-awful buzzing nose, basking in the silence and peace of a morning in the quiet part of Monaco, and letting the hours pass by without care. Then, when you both get sick of the sheets, you go down and grab breakfast in that café just across the building that sells amazing crepes.

But he wakes up and your side of the bed is cold and empty and panic sinks in his system quickly. He glances around the room. Sunlight peeks through the tiny gap of the black out curtains in the window. Besides the night lamp, it's the only source of light in the room. Your phone is not on the bedside table, Lewis notes. That means you slipped away from the bed and left the room some time ago without Lewis noticing. Usually, he'd feel it if you even just twitched and he'd wake up in a heartbeat, but the jet lag and the exhaustion that engulfed his entire body must have stopped him from doing so.

He sits up and rubs his face with his palms. He decides to follow after you downstairs.

The door abruptly opens with a loud bang, making Lewis flinch and turn his head towards. Lewis's face transitions from sleepy to shocked to confused.

You're wearing a gown that greatly resembles the type of gowns that the female cast of Netflix's Bridgerton wore in the show. It's a mixture of lilac and pink, both are pretty colors. Your hair is fixed into an elegant half-do with a plastic tiara to complete everything. On one hand, you carry a portable Bluetooth speaker. In the other, a microphone. You sport the most serious facial expression in the universe but nothing about you screams seriousness at all. Especially not with the funky-shaped eyeglasses that sit on the bridge of your nose.

You slam your hand against the light switch next to the door and the entire room brightens. Lewis chuckles at the sight of you, eyes twinkling with mirth. The room never feels more alive than it does now.

"Ta-da."

"Good morning, baby."

The intro of the song starts blaring through the speaker. A strong beat of drums. Then, you began to sing.

“After the war I went back to New York

A-after the war I went back to New York

I finished up my studies and I practiced law

I practiced law, Lewis worked next door—"

"Baby, you practice medicine—"

"Even though we started at the very same time

Lewis Hamilton began to climb

How to account for his rise to the top?"

You point the mic towards him. Lewis smiles and shrugs his shoulders.

"Man, the man is non-stop."

Lewis chuckles, amused. You are getting into it. You put your mic on your mouth again.

"Gentlemen of the jury, I'm curious, bear with me

Are you aware that we're making hist'ry?

This is the first murder trial of our brand-new nation

The liberty behind deliberation (Non-stop!)

I intend to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt

With my assistant counsel

Co-counsel—"

Lewis tries to leave the sheets so he can get his phone and capture you in video. You stop him by putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Hamilton, sit down."

"I'm sat."

You begin pacing around the room, hands waving around in theatrical fluorish.

"Our client Levi Weeks is innocent

Call your first witness

That's all you had to say

Okay

One more thing–"

You walk up to him and Lewis waits for your next move.

"Why do you assume you're the fastest in the room?"

"Because I am?"

"Why do you assume you're the fastest in the room?

Why do you assume you're the fastest in the room?

Soon that attitude may be your doom!"

Lewis shakes his head at you.

"Why do you drive like you're running out of time?

Drive day and night like you're running out of time?

Every day you fight, like you're running out of time

Keep on fighting, in the meantime."

Your number ends with you doing a dramatic pose and Lewis bursts out laughing, the sound mixing with the fading music.

"I love you so much. You have no idea."

This is far from the ideal morning he's planned out. This is not quiet. This is not peaceful. This is boisterous and obnoxious and too much energy so early in the day and every bone in Lewis's body still screams exhaustion.

But Lewis wouldn't trade this morning over the peaceful morning in his mind. Not when you looked so happy singing and rapping that Hamilton song. You theater nerd. God, Lewis didn't know he was physically capable of loving a person this much.

"Hey baby, if we get a son, can we name him Alexander?"

"Whatever you want."

Lewis wishes this morning will never end.

#lewis hamilton #lh44 #lewis hamilton x reader #lh44 x reader #established relationship #f1 x reader #formula one #formula 1 #f1 imagines #fanfic #hamilton musical #fluff #Spotify

[hephaestuscrew]

"Minkowski's been talking about Sondheim again…": Minkowski's love of musical theatre and what it reveals about her characterisation and her relationships

TL;DR: Renée Minkowski's love of musicals, while it might seem just like a mundane character detail, is used to give depth to her character because it contrasts with expectations of her from both the listening audience and the other characters. Her willingness or unwillingness to share this interest in different circumstances reveals her relationships with other characters at various points. Since this is a long one, if you'd rather read it as a document, you can view it here: Google Doc version.

"She actually really cares about these talent shows": Episode 8 (Box 953)

In the early episodes of Season 1, Minkowski is presented (largely through Eiffel's unreliable perspective) purely as a strict no-nonsense authority figure without much emotional depth, the kind of person who only likes things that are useful, purposeful, or mandated by Command. In contrast, musical theatre is a creative pursuit that has nothing to do with the mission of the Hephaestus and is viewed by many people as fairly frivolous or silly. The gradual exploration of Minkowski's passion for musicals is one of the many ways that the show expands and challenges our understanding of her as a character. 

The first indication that we get of her interest in musicals is through her entry into the infamous talent show, something that is required as part of the mission. Minkowski really cares about 'crew morale' activities in general, even when they actually have a negative effect on morale and even before she's friends with any of her crew (for example, the Christmas and Thanksgiving dinners in the earlier stage of the mission), perhaps partly because doing things in the "right way" is important to her. 

But Eiffel senses that the talent shows aren't just about rules for her: "it’s bad enough when she makes us do something just because it’s military protocol, but I think that she actually really cares about these talent shows". This might be the first indication that we get of Minkowski caring deeply about anything that isn't inherently part of her role as a Commander. Moments like this are part of the gradual process of giving us insight into her character beyond the Commander archetype that she tries to embody. And yet, she only indulges her theatrical passion because something mandatory gives her permission, or an excuse, to let another part of herself out.

Of course, to satisfy the needs of a talent show, she'd only need to provide a performance of a few minutes. But Eiffel mentions "the second act of the play" - which along with Hera's comment that "Isabel isn't the biggest role in the play" - implies that Minkowski was intending to put on the whole of Pirates of Penzance as her talent show act, rather than a few of the songs or some kind of medley. (I suppose that Eiffel could be exaggerating or Minkowski might have been planning to do extracts from different parts of the play, but I prefer the interpretation in which Minkowski gets to be more ridiculous.) 

Even though no one else would be willing to be in her production of Pirates of Penzance, Minkowski casts Hera as Isabel, a role with two lines and no solo singing. I found some audition notes for this play which said "The traditional staging gives [Isabel] more prominence than the solo opportunities of the part suggest, so she must be a good actress" which does make me sad in relation to Hera's inability to have a more significant role by being physically present on stage. 

It’s sweet that Hera still wants to take part though. She tells Eiffel "Pirates of Penzance is a classic of 19th century comic opera", so either she’s absorbed what Minkowski has told her about the show, or she’s done her own research and formed her own opinions. I enjoy the fact that Hera is the one Hephaestus crew member who shows potential to share Minkowski's musical theatre appreciation; I like to think that this is something they could explore together post-canon.

Anyway, I'm obsessed with the idea that Minkowski was planning to play every character except one in Pirates of Penzance, a show which is designed to have 10 principal characters and a chorus of 14 men. It seems that her contribution to the talent show was supposed to be an entire two-hour two-act musical, with costumes and props, in which she would play almost all of the parts. This is very funny to me as the perhaps predictable consequence of giving an ambitious and frustrated grown-up theatre kid a position of authority and asking them to arrange a talent show. Minkowski knows that the audience will be made up of her subordinates who are theoretically obliged by the chain of command to watch and listen, so she absolutely tries to make the most of that opportunity. There's probably also a degree to which she limits other people's involvement in her musical because - as with her other endeavors - she wants the outcome to be almost entirely within her control (something that is usually pretty much impossible in as collaborative a medium as musical theatre).

Of course, Minkowski's behaviour in most of the talent show episode is affected by her being drugged by Hilbert. This creates an exaggerated situation which is the first real opportunity for Minkowski to be something other than the strict sensible authoritarian Commander and the foil to Eiffel's jokey laid-back attitude. I don't agree with ideas that being intoxicated brings out anyone's true self (especially in the absence of consent for the intoxication), but it seems pretty clear that being under the influence of whatever was in Hilbert's concoction caused Minkowski to fully commit to a level of manic enthusiasm for her musical production that might have otherwise been obscured by her professionalism. It's a particular kind of person who belts showtunes when drunk, and Minkowski is that kind of person, even if that's not how she wants to present herself. (As a sidenote, I seem to remember that they took Emma Sherr-Ziarko's script off her to help her sound more drunk. It's an excellent performance.)

Minkowski wants interval ice cream. She wants "pirate costumes" (and she'll threaten to shoot a man to get them). She wants "swashes and buckles". She wants whatever props she can get her hands on (including a real cannon). This show is important to her, even though only three other people will witness it and two of them actively don't want to be there. It’s important to her for its own sake.

Eiffel says Minkowski wants "a second pair of eyes to tell her if the prop sabre for her Major-General costume was a bit much…"  While I certainly wouldn't put it past Goddard Futuristics to have a prop sabre on the station for no apparent reason, it feels more likely that she might have made it or adapted some existing item. Which suggests that maybe she was that passionate about the props even before Hilbert drugged her. 

Even so, it does feel significant that Minkowski's love of musicals is only revealed in the episode in which she is drugged, exhibiting lowered inhibitions, exaggerated behaviour, and an "impaired euphoric effect". Her love of musical theatre is initially revealed through a professional structure that provides permission, and then further emphasised by a forced intoxication that exaggerates some impulses that perhaps she already had.

"Some hobbies other than making trains run on time": Episode 17 (Bach to the Future)

After Eiffel tells to find Minkowski to find something else to do while her work duties have quietened down, they have the following exchange:

EIFFEL: You must have some hobbies other than making trains run on time. Something to do with friends? Boyfriends? MINKOWSKI: Of course I do, but, well, there aren't really a lot of opportunities for rock climbing or trail hiking in the immediate vicinity. 

Even though this quote doesn't mention musicals, I've included it here for two reasons. Firstly, it's very funny to me that, even after the talent show debacle, Eiffel acts like he's never had any evidence of Minkowski's hobbies. She tried to perform a whole play almost single-handedly and it didn't occur to him that this might indicate an interest of hers outside of work. I think this reflects the fairly two-dimensional view that Eiffel has previously had of Minkowski, which her interest in musical theatre didn't fit into. 

Secondly, it feels notable that Minkowski doesn't mention musical theatre here. She wants to show that she has non-work interests, but without undermining her own authoritative image. Her interest in rock climbing and trail hiking - while it may be genuine - fits with how she wants to be seen as a Commander. These are hobbies which portray her as physically capable, with a high degree of stamina and a willingness to adapt to perhaps less hospitable surroundings. Of course, Minkowski does have these traits and they serve her well on the Hephaestus. But there's not really anything particularly surprising about her expressing these interests. The surprise in this scene comes from the reveal that she has a husband, a character detail which - like her love of musicals - isn't something we'd necessarily expect from the archetype-based view of her we are initially presented with. 

Her interest in rock climbing and trail hiking never come up again, because these details don't really deepen her characterisation (or at least, they aren't really used to deepen her characterisation beyond proving that she isn't entirely all-work-and-no-play). In contrast, Minkowski's love of musicals is brought up over and over because it shows another side of her that she struggles to reveal on the Hephaestus, and that allows more interesting things to be done with her characterisation.

"You wanted to write showtunes": Episode 35 (Need to Know)

Alongside the more high stakes discoveries prompted by the leak from Kepler's files, we also learn that Minkowski applied to - and was rejected from - the Tisch Graduate Musical Theater Writing Program.

Up until this point, we've only had evidence that Minkowski enjoys performing in musicals. But here we learn that Minkowski doesn't just love watching or performing in musicals - she wanted to write them too. This suggests a creative side to her that we never see her fully express.

The course

The Tisch Graduate Musical Theatre Writing Program claims to be the only course of its kind in the world and it accepts just 30 students each year. The current application process requires applicants to: upload play scripts or recordings of songs they've written; answer a large number of extended response questions about their creative process and views on musical theatre; write a 'statement of purpose' which has to talk about why they are applying and include 3 original ideas for musicals; provide a professional resume and a digital portfolio; complete an exercise of writing in response to a prompt; and undergo an interview. The process might have changed somewhat since Minkowski would have been applying (which, if it was soon after she finished college, might have been around the early 2000s) or it might be different in Wolf 359's alternate universe, but I think we can safely assume that applying to this course was a serious undertaking that required an intense amount of commitment and work. 

Applying to a course like that isn't something you do half-heartedly or on a whim. You couldn't apply to this course if you hadn't done a fair amount of musical theatre writing already. (The course requires applicants to choose to apply as bookwriters, lyricists, or composers, but I'm not going to make a guess here as to which of these Minkowski went for.) The fact that Minkowski wanted to study this course suggests that she was seriously considering trying to make a career out of musical theatre writing. In Once In A Lifetime, she tells Cutter that commanding a space station has always been her dream job, but we've got evidence here that it wasn't her only dream job. There's something kind of funny and kind of sad about the idea that writing musicals was her back-up / fall-back career path. She does not like to make life easy for herself.

The revelation 

This information is revealed against Minkowski's will. It's not something she wanted people to find out, and she isn't happy about them knowing:

JACOBI: "Dear Renée, thank you for your interest in the Tisch Graduate Musical Theater Writing Program..." MINKOWSKI: Oh, come on!  JACOBI: (pressing on) "We are sorry to say, we will not be able to offer you a spot in this year's blah blah blah." Oh this is too good. You wanted to write showtunes?  MINKOWSKI: Number one? Shut up. Number two, why are my personal records on there?! [...] How is it in any way relevant?! JACOBI: Oh, I think it's very relevant. I mean, if you're sending someone to pilot ships in deep space, you want to make sure that they can, you know... paint with all the colors of the wind.  Jacobi CRACKS UP - and, although to a lesser degree, so does Lovelace. Minkowski looks at her: really?  LOVELACE: Sorry, Minkowski. It's... it's a little funny.  MINKOWKSI: No, it isn't!

Minkowski seems defensive and embarrassed here. She obviously doesn't trust everyone there with this revelation (Jacobi, Maxwell, Lovelace, and Hera are all present). She considers this information to be "personal" and irrelevant and not even "a little funny". She's used to reactions like Jacobi's (and to a lesser extent Lovelace's); in Ep41 Memoria, she says "most people think it's hilarious that I like musicals" (see below for more thoughts about this quote). But the fact that these mocking reactions are expected doesn't mean that they don't bother her. She wants so badly to be taken seriously and, in this scene, her interest in musical theatre seems to be incompatible with that. Jacobi reacts the way that he does because of the idea that I've already expressed, that a passion for musical theatre does not fit with the serious authoritative image that Minkowski has often presented. It's not the typical hobby of a soldier, especially not a Commander.

To me, the way Lovelace laughs suggests that she might not have previously known about Minkowski's love of musicals, or at least perhaps not the full extent of it. At any rate, it's definitely news to Jacobi. And Minkowski clearly hasn't talked about it enough for it not to feel like a big reveal for her.

The rejection 

It's notable that this reveal is not just that she wanted to write for the stage, but also that she failed to get into a course that might have helped her work towards that goal. This of course compounds Minkowski's discomfort at having this information revealed. Not only did she want to write showtunes, but she encountered rejection in her attempts to do so. This detail implies that perhaps it wasn't just the appeal of her spacefaring dream that stopped her going down a theatrical career path. 

I'm about to move more into headcanon territory rather than just straightforward analysis, but I personally believe that, while Minkowski auditioned for a lot of musicals (particularly as a child / young person), she was never cast as the main role. She seems embarrassed about her interest in musical theatre in a way that (at least judging by people I've encountered) people who were always the lead in their school / college productions don't tend to be. 

We don't have much evidence about her actual level of singing/acting ability, given that she is inebriated during the only time we hear her sing in the podcast. However, it resonates with other aspects of her characterisation to imagine that Minkowski was generally good enough to get an ensemble part but never quite good enough to be cast as a main part. I think she might see only ever being cast as part of the ensemble, and failing to get into the Tisch Musical Theatre Writing programme, as slightly more down-to-earth examples of the same pattern as her repeated rejections from NASA. She is desperate to prove herself. She is "someone who very much wants to matter. To do something important." When she casts herself as almost every part in Pirates of Penzance, she is finally taking the opportunity to be a main character, an opportunity which I imagine had been denied to her over and over in both a literal and metaphorical sense.

"It's just from a play I saw once": Episode 41 (Memoria)

The next scene I want to talk about is from a memory of Hera's, which took place on Day 57 of the Hephaestus mission and in which Minkowski appears to be talking about the Stephen Sondheim musical Sunday in the Park with George:

MINKOWSKI: Oh, it's just from a play I saw once. It doesn't matter. (BEAT) The guy who sings it is this famous French painter. And his entire life is kinda falling apart. But he can always turn what's happening around him into these beautiful paintings.  HERA: And? MINKOWSKI: And... That's, I don't know. Reassuring, maybe? (BEAT) I don't know why I'm going on about this. You don't care.  HERA: I think it's interesting.  MINKOWSKI: Yeah? Most people think it's hilarious that I like musicals.  HERA: I don't see what's funny about it.  MINKOWSKI: Well, thank you Hera, but you're not exactly... you know.  HERA: I'm not... what? 

There's a couple of different things I want to pick out from this exchange. Firstly, the line "Most people think it's hilarious that I like musicals" makes me sad. I don't think she's talking about people on the Hephaestus there. Judging by the quote I talked about from Bach to the Future, Eiffel definitely wouldn't have registered Minkowski's love of musicals at this stage, and I doubt Hilbert cares at all about the hobbies of his fellow crew members. So Minkowski is talking about experiences that she's had on Earth, of people mocking her interest in musicals and thinking it doesn't fit with who she is. You can hear the impact of those experiences in Minkowski's reluctance to elaborate, in the way she says that something she obviously cares about doesn't matter, in her assumption that Hera doesn't care.

Secondly, this scene is a complicated one for Minkowski and Hera's relationship. On the one hand, Minkowski freely talks to Hera about something she's passionate about, and Hera listens and expresses interest. Hera validates Minkowski's interest in musical theatre without making a thing of it being weird and Minkowski thanks her. Again, it’s shown as an interest they could could potentially share.

But on the other hand, it seems like part of the reason Minkowski feels able to open up to Hera is because at this point Minkowski doesn't see opening up to Hera as fully equivalent to opening up to a fellow human. She doesn't just accept Hera not making fun of her interest; instead it seems Minkowski is about to imply that this lack of judgment indicates Hera's difference from humans (although she does have the decency not to say it outright). Minkowski's expectation of judgment from others contributes to her saying something very hurtful to Hera here. (This kind of potential consequence of negative self-attitude is explored a lot with Eiffel, so it's interesting that Minkowski can sometimes have a similar issue.)

Minkowski and Hera's conversation is interrupted when:

The DOOR OPENS.  EIFFEL: Hey, Minkowski, we've - What are you guys talking about?  MINKOWSKI: We were just discussing how I'm going to take away your hot water privileges if you don't reset the long-range scan.

Eiffel can obviously tell that he's walked in on a conversation that is about something other than work, or he wouldn't have asked. But Minkowski actively chooses not to tell him that she was talking to Hera about musicals. Perhaps she doesn't know how to open up to a human subordinate about it. Perhaps she doesn't trust him not to make fun of her. Perhaps she just doesn't have any impulse to talk about her interests with him. Either way, if Minkowski's love of musicals is something which reflects a side of her personality outside of her Commander role, this is a moment where she chooses not to take an opportunity to share that side of herself with Eiffel. This reflects the emotional distance between them three months into the mission, which forms a nice contrast with the next couple of quotes I'm going to talk about.

"Composition. Balance. Harmony.": Episode 54 (The Watchtower)

When Eiffel comes directly face to face with alien life, he discovers that music is the human invention that fascinates the Dear Listeners:

EIFFEL: You haven't figured out music?  BOB: ORDER. DESIGN. TENSION. COMPOSITION. BALANCE. HARMONY.  EIFFEL: (low, to himself) Minkowski's been talking about Sondheim again…

I only learned in the course of writing this post that in this moment the Dear Listeners are almost exactly quoting a repeated phrase used throughout Sunday in the Park with George. The titular protagonist lists various combinations of these qualities in multiple songs in reference to his art. In the closing song, the lyrics are "Order. Design. Tension. Composition. Balance. Light. [...] Harmony." It's not only Eiffel's references that the Dear Listeners are incorporating into their speech - they've picked this one up from Minkowski. This also suggests that some element of her appreciation for musicals and the way she talks about them has fed into the Dear Listeners' understanding of the human phenomenon of music. The Dear Listeners aren't just parroting - they understood the quote enough that they left out the word "light", arguably the only quality in that phrase which isn't a big part of music as well as visual art. Eiffel likes music too, but I don't think that this is how he'd talk about his favourite songs.

This is a refrain about finding order and beauty out of the chaos and uncertainty of life, which was also the aspect of Sunday in the Park with George that Minkowski focused on when talking about it in Memoria. It suggests that art/music could be something governed by rules and principles, which is potentially something that appeals both to Minkowski and to the Dear Listeners.

Eiffel's response to this reference is one of those little hints that reminds us that Eiffel and Minkowski have spent a lot of time together and that not all of that time has involved them being at each others' throats or actively in a life-or-death situation. Some of it has just been Minkowski going on about a musical she loves and Eiffel (willingly or not) paying enough attention that he recognises this phrase as a Sondheim quote that Minkowski has talked about. I suppose that this quote might have been in Eiffel's pop-culture-brain anyway, but judging from Eiffel's general tastes and the fact that I don't think Sunday in the Park with George is one of the more commonly known Sondheim musicals among non-musical fans, it seems more likely that this quote is something he only knows because Minkowski has talked about it. 

Eiffel sounds exasperated at the mention, like he's heard Minkowski talk about Sondheim far too much. But I'd argue that this still says something positive about their relationship, when we contrast it with a couple of other moments I've already mentioned. Firstly, when her previous musical theatre ambitions are revealed to Jacobi, Maxwell, and Lovelace in Need to Know, Minkowski seems embarrassed and defensive. Secondly, in the memory from Memoria, she avoids telling Eiffel that she was talking about this same musical. Yet, by the time The Watchtower takes place, Eiffel is sick of hearing Minkowski talk about Sondheim. She doesn't have the same barriers up in sharing her interests with him, even though he doesn't have the same interests. I think this is a demonstration of how comfortable she feels with him. It's a hint at the kind of easy downtime that they've sometimes shared.

"One day more": Episode 61 (Brave New World)

Eiffel recognises another musical reference of Minkowski’s in the finale. As the crew are preparing for their final confrontation with Cutter and co., Minkowski quotes Les Misérables, mostly to herself - but Eiffel recognises the lyrics and joins in:

EIFFEL: Hey - chin up, soldier. We're almost through. Just one more day, and then we're done.  MINKOWSKI: Yeah, one more day. (more to herself) The time is now, the place is here - one day more.  EIFFEL: - one day more.  They both stop, dead in their tracks. MINKOWSKI: Did you just - ?  EIFFEL: Was that what I - ?  They look at each other: No way. And BURST INTO LAUGHTER.  EIFFEL: Man... this is really it, huh? The end of everything. 

It feels really important that Minkowski and Eiffel share this moment of togetherness before she tries to send him back to Earth and before the rest of the action goes down. I think there’s some nice symbolism about them finding a way to communicate that they both understand. Making references is Eiffel's thing, and musicals are Minkowski's thing, so this is a synthesis of their two approaches. Again, there's a contrast with Minkowski's previous unwillingness to share her musical theatre passions with Eiffel (at least without the mitigating circumstances of a mandatory talent show and some kind of intoxicating substance).

I talked about the significance of the fact that they reference this particular musical in this post from ages ago. I don't think it's too much of a spoiler for Les Misérables to say that the revolution that the song One Day More is building up to does not end well for the revolutionaries. When Eiffel says "Just one more day, and then we're done", it encompasses both the possibility that the crew will escape to travel back to Earth and the possibility that they will all die. Minkowski's reference to a famously tragic musical suggests that it's the latter possibility that's at the forefront of her mind (right before she tries to send Eiffel away from the danger). But Les Misérables is also a story about people standing together in solidarity against powerful oppressive forces, which gives particular resonance to the way that this reference brings Eiffel and Minkowski together in a moment of being completely on the same wavelength as they prepare to fight Cutter and Pryce's plan.

When they laugh here, it's not about the 'hilariousness' of Minkowski's interest in musicals, it's about their unexpected unison - Eiffel's recognition of Minkowski's reference and Minkowski's surprise at the fact he joined in. It's a laugh of togetherness, of shared understanding, of friendship. It's a moment of lightness in dark times. And that moment is provided by Minkowski's pop culture interests, not Eiffel's. In spite of all they've been through, she's not lost that part of herself, and in fact, she's more open about it, at least to Eiffel.

I'll finish by highlighting what Eiffel says when he's trying to get into character to impersonate Minkowski so he can turn the Sol around:

EIFFEL: Umm... yes, this is Lieutenant Commander Renée Minkowski. I'm... uh... well I sure love schedules, and, uh, musicals. And that man, who I married…

I just think this is a nice example of Eiffel not defining Minkowski solely by her professional Commander role. Sure, she likes schedules (probably in a personal as well a professional capacity to be fair), but she also loves musicals, and her husband. It is a fairly reductive overview of her as a person, but it feels reductive in a fond way, like these things are part of Minkowski's brand to Eiffel in a way that he might affectionately tease her about. (Credit to @commsroom for this thought.) His view of Minkowski has come a long way from "our resident Statsi agent" or even just "you must have some hobbies other than making trains run on time." He doesn't see any contradiction or inherent humour in Lieutenant Commander Renée Minkowski's appreciation of musicals.

Conclusion

Minkowski's love of musical theatre is used to deepen her characterisation and is one of the ways in which we gradually begin to see her complexity beyond the strict Commander archetype. The degree to which she is prepared to share this interest at various points is used to illustrate the nature of her relationships with other characters: a general unwillingness to show a less serious side of herself; a complicated potential shared interest with Hera; and the growing understanding between her and Eiffel.

If you read this whole thing, well done / thank you 😄 It wasn't meant to be this long - it just happened… Feel free to share your thoughts!

#It's Minkowski Essay Time again! #This is over 4700 words and still doesn't cover it all... #I hadn't quite realised there was so much to say! #Wolf 359 #w359 #If anyone is more familiar with 'Sunday in the Park with George' and has thoughts on why it might particularly appeal to Minkowski #I'd be interested to hear #I listened to the soundtrack and read the Wikipedia plot summary #but I don't think I really got it #My other significant bit of research was that #in order to see what applying to the Tisch Graduate Musical Theatre Writing Program involves #I had to create an account as if I was actually applying #which might be the oddest thing I've done for character analysis #If it interests anyone I could do a post with more detail about that application process #cos it looks insanely intense #Renée Minkowski #Renee Minkowski #the empty man posteth #I hope no one takes things I have said here as critical of musical theatre people btw #I'm just talking about general perceptions #In general I do enjoy musicals myself from an audience perspective

[therealcocoshady]

Recovery - Chapter 3

Eminem x Reader (Y/N) fanfiction

Summary : Marshall and Y/N decide to celebrate a sobriety milestone but bad news get in the way.

Tag : -

A few weeks went by and you slowly started to adapt to what you could call your new normal. You were getting used to living with your friends and started working on your doctoral dissertation again, while going to meetings and making it to therapy. Every so often, you’d be invited to hang out in the studio with Talia and the boys and spend a couple of hours with them. However, most of your time was devoted to uni work so you didn’t hang out with them too much. In fact, today would be the first day you’d see them in a couple of weeks. If you were honest, you were particularly excited to see Marshall. The two of you had crossed path a number of times since you went on that drive and you always had a good time when you were with him. At that point, it was safe to say you had developed a harmless crush on him. Nothing major, but you did particularly enjoy looking at him and you were always happy to hug him hello and goodbye. You knew he would never be interested in you, so you simply decided to enjoy the sensation of feeling good in his presence.

The night after the two of you went on a drive, Talia had been grilling you with questions, but there was not much to say. The two of you had not talked about it but you were pretty sure she knew about your crush. She knew you too well anyway. Whatever, it was harmless, although she did make sure to always have you sit next to Marshall whenever she had the chance.

That day, you were happy for three reasons : first, it was Friday, which meant you would enjoy the weekend and some much needed rest from uni. Secondly, you were celebrating two months being sober. It hadn’t been without its trials, but you had made it so far and were extremely proud. Finally, you got to see Marshall. You were all smiles when you pushed the door to the studio and greeted everyone.

- Y/N, we have been waiting for you like you have no idea ! Jamal said.

- Oh really ? You asked in disbelief. Is that because you produce your best work whenever I’m around ? You asked with a smirk.

- Kind of, he answered jokingly. But it’s mostly because Marshall has been in a bad mood all day, which usually doesn’t happen when you’re around. So whatever it is, please work your magic and make our life bearable again, I beg of you, he added as he fell to his knees for good measure, in a very dramatic and theatrical way.

- Speaking of the devil, where is he ?

No one had time to answer your question, as Marshall came in the room, looking unnerved and slamming the door behind him. You looked at Talia, whose look confirmed that he was indeed in a bad mood. Everyone was silent.

- Now can we please give it a couple more tries and get that right ? Marshall asked exasperated.

- We’ve been working on that song for hours and nothing good came out, someone pointed out. How about we circle back to that later ?

- No, Marshall said coldly. We can get that thing to sound right and we will.

- Stubborn much ? Jamal asked jokingly before Marshall shot him a death glare.

You didn’t know if Marshall had seen you there or not but you weren’t sure as to whether or not greeting him was a good idea. You just sat next to Talia and stared at your phone as you were trying to finish reading a paper. You didn’t pay much attention to your surroundings before you heard Marshall slamming his head against the mixing desk.

- Fuck. He said. We’re already behind on schedule. This album is going to be my last, I swear. If it ever even gets done.

- You already said that for the last one, Paul pointed out jokingly.

- Yeah well you know what ? I’m soon to turn fifty-two. I’m too old for that shit anyways, Marshall replied.

- Come on, dude. We have our good luck charm here today, Jamal said pointing at you.

You smiled shyly at Marshall, who seemed to ease a little.

- Hey there, he said before getting up to properly greet you. Sorry I didn’t say hi before. That was rude.

- It’s ok, you said as you hugged him. So… last album before you become an accountant ? You know, you could ask my dad for pointers, you said jokingly.

Marshall laughed and kissed your cheek.

- Ok, maybe I was being a bit dramatic and maybe it won’t be the last one, he said with a laugh.

Jamal looked at the two of you in disbelief, yet smiling.

- So he’s been an ass all day, and now that Y/N has been here for ten minutes, he’s laughing ?

Everyone laughed and Marshall raised his middle finger.

- Now that you’re in a better mood, can we PLEASE take a cigarette break ? Someone asked.

- Fine, Marshall said rolling his eyes, as most people left the room and he went back to his seat, scribbling in this notebook.

After a moment of silence, you decided to talk.

- I have News, you said.

- Good or bad ? He asked without looking up.

- Well, you tell me, you said with a smile, proudly showing your newly-earned sobriety chip.

He greeted you with a smile and pulled you in for a hug.

- I’m proud of you, he said before kissing you on the forehead, making you blush. We should celebrate.

- Really ? How so ?

- Dinner ? He offered.

- That sounds good, you said. How about you come tomorrow night ? I’ll cook !

- I’m intrigued, he said. So you’re beautiful, smart AND you can cook ?

- I would also showcase my dancing abilities, but you’d be too jealous, you joked, trying to distract yourself from the fact that he called you beautiful.

The two of you shared a laugh but were interrupted by people coming back from their break. They resumed the work and, thankfully for everyone, Marshall ended up being pleased by one of the versions they recorded.

The next day, you decided to go shopping for your celebration dinner. You decided to cook some French recipe. « Whatever you want, unless it’s frogs or snails » Talia had told you. A while ago, you may or may not have tried to get your friends to taste snails, which ended up in a complete disaster. You were excited to cook and were in a good mood when you arrived to the store. You quickly grabbed the items you needed but the joy left your body when you reached the register and saw Simon - your Simon - kissing a beautiful woman as they were grabbing a few items. He seemed happy as ever. You could not help but stare at them and wonder for how long they’d been together. Something about their demeanour made it feel like they’d been a couple for ages. As you lowered your gaze, in hope they wouldn’t notice you, Simon called your name.

- Y/N ?

- Simon. Hi, you said.

- You look… well, he pointed out.

- I am, thank you, you replied. How are you ?

- Good. Kind of busy.

- I figured, you couldn’t help but say, quickly staring at the beautiful lady he was with.

- I meant with work.

- Oh. Right. Well I’d love to chat but I have to go. Have a good one.

You paid and quickly left the store. For some reason, you felt humiliated, even though Simon had every right to date whoever he liked. After all, you hadn’t been together for nearly three months. Plus, Simon was the very définition of perfection : handsome, polite, successful. Looking back, it was kind of obvious he wouldn’t have trouble finding someone else. And it wasn’t exactly like he made a promise to wait for you either.

Even though you tried your best not to cry on the way home, you sniffled as you walked through the door.

- Baby, are you alright ? Talia asked.

- I saw Simon, today. Kissing someone.

As soon as the words left your lips, tears started to stream down your cheeks.

- Oh, Y/N, I’m so sorry ! She said before giving you a much needed hug.

- I know it’s silly but some part of me thought that… I’d get better and we’d get back together and… and…

- I know. I thought you guys were endgame too, she said sheepishly.

She held you for a while as you sobbed.

- Let’s focus on the positive, honey ! Let’s celebrate those two months of you getting better. I’ll help you cook, she offered.

- Do you mind if we reschedule ? You asked. I don’t feel like celebrating. Or cooking. Or eating, for that matter.

- Are you sure, baby ? Marshall should be here soon. I promise we’ll have a good night, just the four of us, she tried.

- Yeah… can you call him and tell him I’m sorry ? I think I should go to my room and rest for a bit.

You apologised once again and left the items on the kitchen counter before going to your room. You changed into some sweatpants and a tank top and laid on the bed and stared at the ceiling. It dawned on you that Simon and you were truly over. Even though you tried thinking of something else, you couldn’t help but seeing him with that girl. She was truly beautiful. Probably more deserving of him, too. The tears wouldn’t stop flowing from your eyes. It felt like a fountain. Deep down, you knew it was your fault. You were the one who screwed up. He was the perfect match for you, you screwed up and now, you’d probably end up alone.

You heard a knock on the door.

- I’m fine, Talia, you said while wiping away your tears.

- It’s not Talia, you heard Marshall’s voice say. Can I come in ?

Marshall ? What was he doing here ? You quickly got up and opened the door.

- Hey, you said. I’m sorry, I told Talia to cancel for tonight. I’m feeling a bit under the weather…

- She told me about your ex, he said. But she thought we should do something to get your mind off things. Come here.

He pulled you in for a hug. He grabbed your face in his hands and wiped your tears with his thumbs.

- I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone’s face so swollen after crying, he said with a smile.

- I know, I’m an ugly cryer, you replied.

- Everyone’s ugly when they cry, he pointed out.

- No, that’s not true. Some people manage to stay hot even when they cry.

- Well I’ve never seen that, he said as he shook his head.

- I’m sure Ms. Perfection over there is still beautiful when she cries, you mumbled.

- Who ? Marshall asked, looking confused.

- The girl Simon was kissing. You should have seen her, Marshall. So beautiful. Tall. And blonde. And skinny. And perfect for him in every way. The opposite of me.

You rolled your eyes at the thought of her.

- As beautiful as she may be, I’m sure she can’t compete with you, Marshall said.

- You haven’t seen her, you pointed out.

- I don’t need to, he shrugged.

He was just being nice and you knew it full well. Still, the compliments made you feel a bit better.

- Why don’t you join Talia and Jamal ? Let me just put on something other than sweats and I’ll start cooking.

- I thought you wanted to cancel dinner ? He asked, looking confused.

- Yeah, but Talia still made you come all this way, so I might as well feed you.

- That’s awfully nice of you, he said with a grin.

- Nice of you to come, you said with a shy smile.

- Anything for you, Y/N, he replied with a serious tone. You can call me and I’ll be there.

- Good thing I don’t have your number, you said with a smile. You’d never live in peace otherwise.

- Let’s correct that, shall we ?

He grabbed your phone and entered his number in it.

- Now you can call me, he said. Anytime.

- Thanks, Marshall.

You gave him a shy smile and immediately rang him so he’d have your number too.

- I can help you cooking if you want, he offered. But I should warn you : I’m not too good at it.

- You’re a grown man and you can’t cook ? You asked in disbelief.

- Well I guess I can prepare food. I even worked as a short-order cook, a long time ago. I wouldn’t call that cooking though. Neither would my kids, he said with a grin.

- I’ll teach you a thing or two, then. Let me just get dressed.

- Why ? He asked. We’re staying in. You don’t have to make an effort for me.

You shrugged and headed to the kitchen with him. Truth was, you didn’t want Marshall to think of you as sloppy. Even though he did not really seem to care.

When you entered the kitchen, you found Jamal and Talia hugging and kissing like teenagers.

- You guys are too cute. I can’t handle that right now, you said.

- Yeah, please don’t rub your happiness in our single faces, Marshall pleaded.

- Sorry guys, I’m too in love with this gorgeous lady, Jamal said.

Both you and Marshall pretended to puke. The four of you laughed and started cooking together while listening to music. You tried teaching them how to prepare some traditional French chicken dish. It was a simple one but you hadn’t exactly been given the most attentive students. Marshall was desperately trying to cut the vegetables correctly (nearly destroying them in the process), while Talia and Jamal kept on making out like teenagers. You ended up preparing the dish by yourself. It wasn’t perfect but the group deemed it to be good enough.

- Don’t worry Y/N. If you keep cooking like that, we’ll find you a husband soon enough, Jamal complimented.

- JAMAL ! Talia shouted.

- Sorry. Wrong timing, he apologised. You know what I mean.

You couldn’t help but burst out laughing. Jamal was really sweet and you knew he meant well.

- it’s good to hear you laugh, Talia said as she grabbed your hand.

- Thanks for being here, guys, you replied. My day sucked but you make it better.

- Anytime, Marshall said.

The four of you kept the conversation going but were soon disturbed by the door buzzing. Talia went to answer.

- Hey Talia. Is Y/N here ? I’d like to speak to her, you heard an all too familiar voice say.

- Simon ? You asked as your heart started racing. What are you doing here ?

#eminem #eminem x reader #marshall mathers #eminem fanfiction #slim shady #eminem fluff #eminem imagine #marshall mathers imagine #marshall mathers x reader #marshall mathers headcanons

[thatscarletflycatcher]

Sense and Sensibility (2024, Hallmark) a review

I had expectations for this movie. They were not surpassed. It didn't perform below them either.

Spoilers under the cut.

So, this is a short movie (1.24hr long) a tv movie, a hallmark movie. You must keep that in mind as a frame of reference for what I'm about to say. You cannot really compare this with theatrical movies on equal footing.

Where to start. Costumes and sets. It is Bridgerton's world and we live in it. Everything is VERY colorful and shiny and not very real looking; that was to be expected. I think that sort of semi-fantasy aspect didn't hurt at all, and it was consistent. If you are not going to stick to the time period, at least go ham and show me something really interesting. I'm looking at you, Netflix Persuasion. There are some dresses that are pretty, and some others that... aren't. Considering that apparently the costume designer had to make something like 60 pieces in a month, it's kind of impressive that it came out as it did.

One funny bit, though, in this respect, is that they complain about how small the cottage is like some actual estate houses aren't the same size IRL XD Allenham we only get to see from afar, and it is rather disappointing.

Music: nothing to write home about, to be expected. Yes, we got one of those Vitamin String Quartet modern-song-played-by-strings. IDK. They were a bit dorky in their heyday, I don't know why they are so sought after in these pieces lately. I digress.

The acting. Deborah Ayorinde was a really good Elinor. She definitely deserved better writing and direction. The rest of the cast was good enough; I feel some roles really benefited from their characters being a bit hammy already in the source material (Lucy, Mrs Jennings, Anne, Fanny, Robert), others were really struggling because of being given very poor dialogue (Mrs Dashwood), and others were just... not good (Willoughby and Brandon, sadly). Edward was... a very special case. I can only describe it as the actor having two expressions: one, an attempt at reaching Hugh Grant's adorkableness AND Dan Stevens' ease at the same time, and two [SCREAMING INTERNALLY], but I guess those two were indeed enough to make it work just fine!

Which leads me to the writing. We all knew this adaptation was going to live or die in the writing, and most likely die.

The thing is that most of it is written around repeating 95' and 08's greatest hits, while attempting to compress the narrative into an hour and a half. And that goes as well as you can expect it to. Some scenes are painfully rushed -Brandon's backstory was extremely awkward to get through- some things are over before you have any time to assess their real weight -Marianne's illness, and many others end up being... incongruous.

Let me stop a little on those. The movie keeps Margaret, and gives her the whole play acting as a pirate with Edward from 95', but then removes the only real plot relevant thing she does in the book. So why keep the character at all? (Willoughby asks for Marianne's handkerchief in exchange for Queen Maab, instead of cutting a lock of her hair).

Because 2008 makes Brandon suspicious of Willoughby from the get go, this one makes it so that they know each other and implies that Brandon knows dirt on Willoughby, but then plays the rest of the story straight, which makes it... pretty inconsistent.

Speaking of Brandon, we have reached adaptation #5 that cuts out the fact that he tried to elope with Eliza sr. This time the backstory is that his father promised to let him marry Eliza if he proved himself as a soldier, but when he came back, he found his father has kicked her out of the house. Yeah, that was utter nonsense.

The adaptation makes a clumsy attempt at including the dinner at Mrs Ferrars... but Brandon isn't there to see Marianne defend Elinor.

We needed to have a "Brandon rescues Marianne in the rain" scene, but in this case, she's not faint or anything, he just grabs her because she's sad XD

And the list goes on and on and on. It was to be expected that the shadow of both 95 and 08 would be large over this one, but it truly is to the point that the references and contrivances are almost constant. Which is a pity because I think most of the original choices were interesting.

For example, Marianne twists her ankle running after Margaret, to try and stop her from asking something embarrassing, which is a good choice in terms of showing that Marianne is passionate, but she has more sense than Margaret.

On his deathbed, Mr Dashwood makes Elinor promise that she will take care of her mom and sisters and keep the family together. That added pressure on Elinor works really well in the context of the adaptation, and ads a new layer of interest.

John Dashwood is written mostly as a hapless but not malicious idiot. This is similar to what From Prada to Nada did (though there it made more sense because of the father having two families simultaneously), but I'm not sure where was that going. They did cut the Palmers, so I suppose the choice was so that they could go to Norland instead on their way to Barton (it is never established that Norland is so far away as it is in the book, so I guess one could give it a pass), but in that case, I feel the most cost effective shortcut is... have them go to Barton? Because we do get to see Barton (Marianne goes alone with Brandon to see it close to the end, and they get engaged before Edward returns, don't think much about it, manners and such are... for this movie... loose guidelines. But it isn't super offensive most of the time).

Anne Steele is decent fun as she's supposed to be, but Lucy really suffers the flattening. The mastermind has been flanderized into just a mean girl, and that's a pity.

Oh, Edward is sassy at times! And the sassy jokes land! I have to say it is not my preferred way of doing the character, but he does show some sass at the end of the novel, so, you know, I'll allow it I suppose XD

Edward's return and proposal started pretty good, but it overstayed its welcome. I cannot emphasize enough that, when writing this kind of proposal, you must avoid the word love if you can, and if you must use it, use it once, and with great reluctance.

The movie chooses to dedicate quite a time to the reveal of Edward and Lucy's relationship, and it's honestly... decent? For a scene made out of whole cloth it stands on its own feet reasonably well. But there's no Fanny freakout. This is probably the most shocking plot twist in the adaptation. This very on-the-nose Hallmark adaptation decided to cut the Fanny freakout of all things. Impressive restraint.

One thing, however, that was sadly cut out was Elinor and Marianne's conversation about Willoughby at Barton. It is instead replaced by an unsubtle comparison between Willoughby and Edward, and an exchange between Brandon and Marianne. It is one of the several points where the storytelling relies on previous knowledge of the work.

These are my main, disordered thoughts. I leave you with this choice from the ending, that I cannot form a thought about:

At Elinor and Edward's wedding, on the first pew are in attendance, from center to side: Mrs Dashwood, Margaret, Marianne, colonel Brandon... and Eliza Williams with her baby in her arms.

As a summary, I'd say Elinor and Edward's story was good enough, the relationship between the sisters was sweet, there were some odd choices, some interesting choices, and overall the writing was severely downgraded by attempting so much to stick to the choices of previous famous adaptations.

#Jane Austen #Sense and Sensibility #Sense and Sensibility Hallmark #Sense and Sensibility 2024

[padfootagain]

How to Make Sport Fun

Hello! Here I come with a new request! This came from @thenerdysimp : “where reader and Ben is that cute gym-couple. Like they are working out for Shadow and bone or something and they are doing pull-ups together. (Like she has her legs around his waist while they are holding the bar together) When he is doing push-ups she is laying on the floor under him to give him a kiss every time he comes down and when she is doing sit-ups he is holding her feet to giver her a kiss every time she comes up. The cast is just teasing them about it all the time but they couldn’t care less😌

I just see Ben as a big simp😂”

I completely agree with you about Ben being a simp, he is an absolute softie like… zejzeijroiejrzijrezi!!!

(Also, know that I hate sport, and know nothing about working out, so sorry if some details don’t make sense, I had to google these things).

I hope you all like this fic! Please, tell me what you think about it.

****

Pairing: Ben Barnes x reader

Warnings: Extreeeeeeme fluffiness!! Tooth-rotting fluff!! Just lots of disgustingly sweet cuteness!! It also got very very flirtatious for some reason, I don’t know why… *glances over at a picture of Ben working out* yeah, I know why…

Summary: You hate working out. Ben hates working out. Lucky for the two of you, like most things in life, it’s more fun when you do it with someone you love.

Word count: 3048

Ben Barnes's Masterlist - Main Masterlist

Working out is (almost) never fun.

Muscles aching, sweat sticking to your skin, breathing hard like a bloody buffalo… All traces of sexiness gone for good. And the need to focus, the whole seriousness of it.

Many disadvantages in workouts, but then it keeps you healthy, so it’s not that bad. And it is needed for this role of yours you’re going to play in a couple of months in Shadow and Bone, so you don’t exactly have a choice.

And then… well, there’s the fact that your husband is training with you these days. And that brings a lot of fun to the whole exercise.

Goodbye to the stern sessions, the focused frowns. Instead, you’re getting a very goofy husband currently improvising a karaoke session in the empty training room rented by the studio for the cast and crew to use.

It’s early still, most people are still in bed, but that’s why you’ve come now. You and Ben have the room only for the two of you. You train with a coach as well, but only twice a week, the rest of your sessions are spent laughing at your husband’s silly choreographies more than actually working out.

Although… that’s not exactly true. After all, laughing does train your abs. That’s why your stomach is painful right now…

“IIIIII WANNA DANCE WITH SOMEBODY!” Ben is singing at the top of his lungs next to you while dancing, bringing out his most ridiculous moves on purpose just to make you laugh.

He sings along with the radio, turning fully to you for the next verse.

“IIIII WANNA FEEL THE HEAT FOR SOMEBODY!” he points at you as he sings, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively as he insists on the word ‘heat’, making you double with laughter.

He can’t go on as you lean on him for support, laughing too much to stay upright. His laughter soon joins yours.

“Are you laughing at my singing?” he asks, faking outrage, still struggling to speak.

You shake your head, unable to speak at all. You choke on your laughter, making his grin double in size and a wave of giggles bubble on his lips.

“I wouldn’t dare,” you finally answer.

You brush your tears away, and he does the same.

“I love you,” you sigh, holding your painful stomach. “You’re such an idiot.”

“And now you’re insulting the artist…”

He gives you a dramatic pout, puppy eyes and a theatrical sniffle for good measure. You giggle at him, but it works all the same, his evil plan. Because now you’re wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to kiss his lips, the radio still blurting the old hit song.

“Awwww, poor Benjamin…”

“Don’t call me that!” he protests, but he lets you kiss his cheek anyway, his beard tickling your skin. “I hate it!”

“What should I call you then? Thomas?”

He lets out a disgusted growl.

“Barnes?”

“Oh, stop it! Call me a real name?”

“A real name?”

“What you usually call me.”

“What do I call you again? I don’t remember…”

He rolls his eyes, pouting again.

“You’re so mean!” he complains.

You giggle into his beard, but give in anyway.

“Aww, my sweetheart!”

“Better…”

“My love.”

“Hmmm…”

“My darling.”

“Keep going…”

“Baby.”

“Yes?”

“My husband. My man. Handsome. Lovely. Honey…”

“Yeah, these are very good,” he nods in approval, before leaning in to kiss you, passionate and yet tender still.

When he moves his lips to your neck, you gently push him away, shaking your head.

“Oh, I see what you’re trying to do here, mister!” you warn him. “And you’re not getting away with it!”

“Getting away with what?” he asks back, faking innocence, but he’s got this mischievous glint in his eyes and smile, and you’re not fooled.

You wave a finger at him.

“Do not distract me with your charm and your kisses! You’re due for some pull-ups.”

“You think I’m charming?” he shoots you a flirtatious smile, and you roll your eyes despite the heat that spreads across your whole body because of how his voice is deeper than usual, sulkier, huskier…

“Why do you think I’ve married you?”

“My money?”

“I wish. It would have caused me less trouble. I wouldn’t be here sweating my ass off if I did. I’d be drinking cocktails by a disgustingly expensive pool then, like any real gold digger.”

“’Sweating your ass off?’ Can you be less romantic?”

“I can’t. But, my love…”

“Hmm?”

“Pull-ups!”

He groans, mumbling something about his tyrant of a wife, but walks over to the bars anyway.

“Come on, get to work,” you tease him some more, just for good measure, landing a playful slap on his butt that makes him chuckle. “These muscles of yours won’t grow by themselves.”

“Are you saying that that’s what you want? More muscles? I didn’t know you did. Want me to sign you up at the bodybuilder fan club?”

“Our director wants you to grow some muscles. Me? I mean… I don’t mind the muscles. But your pretty eyes are enough to woo me.”

He grins at that, bright and genuine, before dropping a sweet peck to your lips. Your cheeks hurt a little after smiling so much.

“Part of my charms, I’m sure,” he jokes, but you nod in all seriousness.

“Absolutely. You have very pretty eyes.”

“Well, thank you. But they aren’t as pretty as yours, my love.”

“Sweet-talking your way out of training, I see…”

“I’m not!” he defends himself, and as to prove a point, he stands under the bar, getting ready.

“Come on! You can do it!” you encourage him, and he winks at you before getting to work.

Yes, these sessions with your goofy husband are a laugh. But then again, you can’t deny that he’s redefining other disadvantages of these sessions too…

You mentioned the loss of sexiness? That doesn’t seem to apply to your husband. Not at all. Quite the opposite.

You struggle a little to swallow as you stare at Ben, pulling up his weight until his chin goes all the way above the steel bar. Muscles flexing, tensing, bulging under his black t-shirt. His face strained by the effort, and the veins on his forehead and his neck pulsing as he struggles. His cheeks have reddened, and he heaves a loud breath at the next climb. He’s sweaty, beads rolling down the side of his face, but you find that sexy. You’ve stopped encouraging him altogether, merely admiring your husband. You can’t find anything to say at all, anyway. Your brain has stopped functioning as soon as your eyes have landed on his tensed biceps, pale skin glimmering with the thin layer of sweat under the white neon lights…

Only when you hear him letting out a grunt, and that he remains suspended above the ground but not moving up anymore do you finally bring yourself back to earth.

“Come on! You can do one more!” you encourage him.

“How many did I do?”

“Huh…”

“You counted, right?”

“Yes…?”

“What were you doing, then?”

He’s still out of breath, voice a little strained because of the effort, and you decide to definitely scratch that argument against training.

It can definitely be hot…

“Come on, I lost count, but you can do one more!”

But Ben shakes his head.

“Too tired.”

He’s about to let go, but you press him on.

“Come on! One more! For me!”

He grunts.

“Why do you want to torture me so much anyway?” he asks, clearly annoyed.

“Honestly?”

“Yes…” he answers, raising up an eyebrow, surprised by your tone.

“Your biceps look amazing when you do pull-ups. It’s super hot.”

He explodes with laughter, and has to let go of the bar, laughing too hard.

“What?” you ask, amused and trying to shy away.

But Ben shakes his head.

“I’m sweaty and disgusting right now,” he argues, but you shake your head.

And there’s something terribly hungry in your eyes, even if you try to hide it. It makes him grow serious in the blink of an eye, while his heart misses a few beats.

Damn, you’re really something else…

“I think you look hot,” you answer earnestly.

He shakes his head, still amused, but grabs the bar again anyway.

“Yes! Go on! Go on!” you cheer on, your eyes glued to his arms as he pulls himself up above the bar.

He lets go, exhausted, as soon as he is done. He rubs the painful muscle of his right arm with a small wince.

“I hate you,” he claims as you approach.

“Awww, my poor baby.”

Your fingers replace his as you massage his weary arm, and he heaves a relieved sigh at the feeling. Soon, a playful smirk is back on his lips.

“So… sexy enough for you?” he asks with a wink.

“Not bad,” you answer, but the grin on your lips betrays your thoughts.

“The other arm is very painful too, you know?”

“Fishing for attention, now?”

“Only massages for my sore muscles.”

“Oh… well, I wanted to give you a kiss, but as you just need some massage…”

“I won’t pass on a kiss, though.”

“Too late! Lost your chance.”

But the next second, he’s wrapping his arms around you, pulling you close as you rest your hands on his upper arms, still rubbing his skin.

“Never too late for a kiss,” he grins, leaning in and kissing you for a rather long while.

“You’re sweaty,” you point out after he finally frees you from his tight embrace.

“And? Disgusting?”

“Weirdly enough, not really.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“Sexy?”

“Rather, yes.”

“You have to stop all this… flirtation. Innuendo. Temptation… or we’ll never finish our training session.”

You laugh at that, replacing Ben under the bar to do pull-ups too. He helps you by holding your legs for the last couple of tractions, and rewards you with some water and a couple of pecks in your hair.

“You’re sweaty too,” it’s his turn to point it out.

“And? Disgusting?” you ask, playing a long.

“Not gonna lie… it’s kinda gross.”

You swat him playfully on the shoulder, both of you laughing at the teasing.

“I’m obviously kidding. You are always gorgeous,” he corrects himself, and you roll your eyes.

“Sweet-talking your way out of trouble, as always…”

“Absolutely not. Just stating facts. We should do sit-ups now, let our arms rest a bit before we do push-ups.”

You nod in agreement, putting your bottle away.

You hold Ben’s feet when he lies down, knees bent. When he sits up, his face coming to your level again, you lean to press a kiss to his lips, making him giggle in surprise.

You’re too adorable, he can’t help it. Because he can’t say he enjoys this kind of workout sessions, but you make them unbearably more fun…

“Nice reward,” he grins, stealing another kiss before lying back down.

“I think so too. You’ll have to give me those too…” you’re interrupted by his lips as he comes up again, “…when it’s my turn.”

“Deal,” he smiles, pecking your lips once more.

And he does. Once it’s your time to get to work, he gives you kisses every time. You do a few more just to steal kisses, and he notices, but he doesn’t complain.

You’re the one to start with the push-ups next, and Ben would be lying if he claimed to have kept a perfect count throughout the exercise. Because he didn’t think seeing you sweaty and huffing and exhausted could look sexy… outside of a bedroom, that is. But it is, one thousand percent. And he kind of gets why you wanted to see one more pull-up before. Because now your muscles are flexing, and your hair clings to your temples, and you have that determined look on your face he finds absolutely endearing…

“How many do I have left?” you ask, struggling to breathe, your forearms shaking slightly as you hold yourself up.

“Two,” he claims, giving a random number as his brain has stopped functioning long minutes ago.

“Right…”

He counts with you to cheer you up, and he can’t help but laugh when you let yourself crash on the mat when you’re done.

You let out a dramatic moan, making his laughter double.

“Poor baby!” he coos, kneeling next to you and running his fingers through your hair. “Come on, my turn, and then we’re done for today.”

You turn your head towards him, just enough to look at him.

“Can we get a coffee afterwards?” you ask in a shy tone.

“Sure, I’ll get you coffee,” Ben nods, smiling, voice tender.

“And my shoulders hurt a lot,” you complain in a baby voice.

“Awww…”

“Can I get a massage afterwards?”

“Yes, you can.”

“And a shower with you?”

“Yes, we can take a shower together.”

“And sex in the shower?”

He explods with laughter, while you chuckle, a mischievous smile on your lips.

“You’re unbelievable,” he answers with fondness, shaking his head.

“Is that a yes?”

“Undoubtedly. Have I ever said no to that kind of offer?”

“Don’t know… seeing me like this could kill my sex-appeal for good.”

“Actually, you doing these push-ups was rather hot.”

“Really?”

He nods, standing again.

“Come on! My turn! Hurry up, we have many things to do after this. And some I’m very excited about.”

There’s flirt in his crooked smile, it oozes charms and his voice grows huskier as he speaks. You can’t help the way your heart skips a beat.

But you don’t move just yet, groaning at your painful muscles.

Ben chuckles, standing over you, his arms crossed before his chest.

“I do have a very nice view of your ass from up here, so I can’t say that I’m willing to complain about you lying down like this a little longer… but you have to move if you want this session to end.”

You smile while Ben bends to pinch your thigh through your leggings, making you squeal and let out a bright wave of laughter.

“I knew you loved my arse,” you answer proudly, wriggling happily on the floor as you turn to lay on your back.

Ben rolls his eyes.

“I do tell you every single day how beautiful you are, my darling,” he reminds you, shaking his head with a tender smile.

“You do,” you nod, your smile matching his. “But it never gets old.”

“Why do you think I married you in the first place?”

“My money?”

“I wish. It would have gotten me in less trouble than your pretty arse.”

“When did I get you into trouble?”

“Every single day since we met.”

“Fair enough…”

You laugh, and finally sit up, until an idea crosses your mind, and you choose to lie back down.

You have a mischievous on your lips, and Ben looks at you warily.

“I’ve got an idea!”

“Hmm… and a terrible one, judging by that smirk on your face. What did I just say about trouble, again?”

“Come on! In position!” you order, ignoring him. “You’re gonna do your push-ups above me.”

His eyes grow round.

“What?”

“Come on! In position!”

He hesitates for a second, but he’s too used to your antics to argue. He knows you’ll end up convincing him anyway, so he rolls his eyes again, for good measure, but complies. He holds himself up above you.

“Like that?” he asks, frowning a little.

But you nod.

“Now, do a push-up!”

“I’m going to crush you, darling,” he argues, an amused smile on his lips.

“Of course not! Come on! Do a push-up!”

“It won’t work…”

“Stop arguing! And do it! Trust me!”

“You? You’re a mischief maker, I don’t trust you one bit.”

“Ouch, that hurts! To your own wife!”

“You heard me.”

But he bends down anyway, bringing his body against you, and as you kiss him when he gets down, right before he would pull himself up again. He chuckles, struggling to keep his balance as his body shakes with laughter, and you soon join him.

“So, that was your evil plan, huh?” he asks, still laughing.

“Devilish, right?”

“Outrageously so!”

“Good plan, huh?”

“Great plan. Might want to test it again.”

“Please, do.”

And he does, leaning down to reach your lips before pulling up. He has a precise number to follow for his routine, but he’s lost count, too busy staring at your beautiful eyes, and longing for your lips everytime he has to pull away, and his muscles are sore anyway, and he’s tired, and he just wants you close…

You let out a surprised huffing noise when he lets himself fall on top of you, before you both explode with laughter.

“Now, you’re crushing me, lovely!”

He lets out a dramatic grunt, shifting to get more comfortable, resting his cheek on your chest. You merely chuckle in response, holding him close.

“That was a good session.”

He hums in agreement, holding you tight.

“Yeah… I’m very sweaty and very sore. Apparently, it’s a good sign.”

“Undoubtedly.”

“It was fun though. You make these things fun.”

“Yeah, you do too.”

“What time is it? I could easily take a nap like this.”

“No idea. But you can’t fall asleep, you’ve promised me lots of things after the gym!”

“Really? I have no memory of that whatsoever.”

“You’ve promised some coffee…”

“Hmm…”

“Some massage…”

“Ha, did I?”

“You did. And also some sex.”

“Ha, yes,” he looks up at you at that, mischief back on his ridiculously handsome features. “In the shower, I think…”

“Yes, precisely.”

“Well, can’t keep my wife waiting for that.”

“You can’t indeed.”

You’re about to kiss when you hear the door of the gym open, and you turn to find Freddy, Calahan and Patrick staring at you with wide-eyes.

“We were doing push-ups,” you explain with a grin, but even Ben laughs at that.

Freddy puts down his bottle on a bench while you and Ben get back to your feet.

“I swear, if you’ve done anything sexual in this room, I will channel my inner Crow to kill you both.”

But as a response, you merely laugh, wishing for your three colleagues a good training session, while you gather your things and head for home.

Busy schedule ahead, after all…

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