#Me when I annoy my technically older brother

[banesberry-anomoly]

Being able to shapeshift has advantages, including being able to annoy your brother

[bunny-jpeg]

thinking about older brother’s best friend!max who takes little innocent virgin you home after you got too drunk at a party. you trust him so much and he’s sooo dreamy but you can’t figure out how you ended up in his lap with his fingers up your miniskirt, other hand locked around your neck and skimpy lace thong stuffed in your mouth. but you don’t want to annoy him when he’s finally paying attention to you, so you furiously nod and drool when he tells you to be his good girl, his stupid little slut, and bullies his big, aching cock into your pussy. it’s soo wet and sticky but it doesn’t matter cause maxie promised he was wearing a condom…right? Right?

thank you so much for sending this to me! this is a crazy ass prompt and i love it. thank you so much! and for the people at home, send me your shit! i love insane prompts to write! give them to me, i need to write! i went with the tried and trued method of a leclerc!reader so add a little extra zest to it. i changed a few things around so i hope that's okay, all the pieces are still there just a few tweaks!! i hope you enjoy <3

max verstappen

cw: smut/pwp, leclerc!reader, drunk sex, dubious consent, lying, unprotected sex, size difference/kink, crybaby!reader, dark-ish fic, missionary position, fingering, (slight) choking, (technical) virgin!reader, filth(!!!)

"thank you so much for doing this. i told her not to go out tonight because i was out of town and couldn't get her if she needed help. you're a big help, mate. i owe you." charles' voice was clear on the other end of the phone.

max was grabbing his keys, "you owe me nothing, charles. i'm happy to help. wasn't up to much else tonight." he got his shoes on and headed out the door, "i'll let you know when i get her." then hung up the phone.

he got in his car and drove to the club you were supposed to be. max had known you for about as long as he had known charles, you were the curious little thing that liked being around your brother. you were close in age, but max hadn't seen you in years.

charles said that university had prevented you from ever really hanging around as much as you used to. which was a shame because max always thought you were cute, even if you were a little bit a cry baby.

he pulled up to the address of where you were supposed to be and got out of the car. it was late into the evening and there were a few people outside. the sight of him turned a few heads and some whispers. but he had to pick you out of the crowd.

he leaned against the car and did the tried and true method of finding a leclerc. he cupped his hands around his mouth and said, "hey! leclerc!"

and then as it had worked a million times with charles over the years, your voice rang out, "holy shit, max! what are you doing here?" and you got out of the crowd in front of the club.

that was when max's heart stopped.

he remembered you in your high school uniform and baggy t-shirts with various bands on them. he remembered when you had braces and that bad haircut in tenth year. but, now, are a twenty-something year old woman, you were beautiful.

you practically stumbled over to him, you tripped over the curb and against his chest. but you clung to the front of his t-shirt, "oh my god, it's you!" you howled laughter, "where's charlie?"

max steadied you back on your feet and looked over you to see the other people who were murmuring. he looked down at you, his hands still on your shoulders, "i'm going to take you back to my place tonight." even though charles said to bring you back to his place, there would be a slight detour.

plus, what if something happened? max needed to protect you, or at least he had self appointed himself with the role.

"god, i haven't seen you in like what, five years? still got those chubby cheeks though." you giggled drunkenly as you pinched at his face.

max could feel the heat rise in his face, didn't help that your plump breasts were pressed against him and he got a good view of your cleavage. he said to you, "c'mon, let's get out of here." he gave you a smile, "i think we're turning too many heads."

you nodded innocently before max helped you into the car. even going as far as to buckle to you in and closing the door. as he rounded the car he exhaled deeply, this was not what he was expecting.

you looked at him and giggled, "holy shit, it's actually you. why are you picking me up? i called charlie?"

max sighed and buckled himself in, he patted your knee, "how much have you had to drink? your brother is out of the country for most of the summer break."

a few seconds ticked by before you made an 'o' shape with your mouth, you snapped your fingers and pointed to max, "i was supposed to call lorenzo!"

max's eyebrows knitted together, "how much have you had to drink?"

you shrugged, "i don't know. there was this nice guy who kept buying me drinks and he was like super nice. but then, my friends kinda got me away from him and told me to call my brother and i said, 'which one?', because you know. i have three brothers and i don't very well want arthur to see me THIS drunk so i called charles... but i wasn't supposed to call charles, i was supposed to call lorenzo."

max wanted to kiss you really badly at that moment. and when he squeezed your thigh for reassurance, you moaned. then max's brain went silent for a moment.

you looked at each other and you felt the heat rise in your cheeks as you said, "sorry.... over sensitive." you licked your lips, "you can still hold my thigh if you want."

this was going to be a long night, and max wanted to see how deep this could go. after all, you both had about five years to make up.

"i hate being this drunk." you whined, as you padded across his home. you were out of the skimpy dress you wore to the club, much to max's pleasure. you looked better in no bra, one of his t-shirts and his socks that you pulled as high as they could go, "i wish i could stop being drunk the moment i got home."

he was on the couch, a glass of water and some tylonel was on the table. he patted his thigh and suggested, "i think i know something that can help." his brain had been trying to think of a clever way to get you closer to him, but you were too easy.

"water and rest?" you asked as you got closer to him. your arms across your chest.

he leaned back into the sofa a little and said, "no. why don't you come here to find out?" he could tell in the slight wave of your stance that you were still quite drunk. he chuckled as he watched you come over to him, were all leclercs curious like cats?

you perched yourself on his thigh and he pulled you into his lap. being so close to you made his cock throb in his jeans. you yelped and admitted, "i'm a virgin!"

"what?"

you looked at him so innocently it almost broke the driver's brain in half. you had your hands up near your face and your bottom lip was wobbling, "i've... i've never had sex before. i mean... i technically let a guy finger me." you swallowed, not knowing why you were admitting this, "but.. but he didn't even make me cum, i lied to him and faked it."

max's hungry gaze remained on you, "so... so no one's actually... had sex with you."

you looked like you were going to cry. you were in your twenties and a virgin (he wasn't going to acknowledge the curl of jealousy in his gut at the thought of some loser at your school poorly trying to finger you). that had all the lights going off in max's brain.

leclerc's little sister was a virgin, drunk and on the verge of tears in max's condo. shivering like a leaf. max never thought of himself in terms of animals, but at moment he felt like a big scary lion. and you a poor little deer. the signature leclerc doe eyes only added to his point.

"it's alright." he said, "how about this, you let me finger you properly. i don't think your technical first time should've been spent with you faking an orgasm."

you had to admit, you had feelings for max. when you were younger and your brother would race him, you'd follow him around afterwards asking about max. it annoyed the hell out of your brother.

even the guy who fingered you was almost an exact fit to max, the blond-brown hair, blue eyes and a big nose. but it didn't quite cut it. max had been the subject of your fantasies for years now.

you blushed, "i mean... i don't want to force you or anything. i don't want it to be a pity fuck."

he laughed and curled a strong arm around you, "no, no, not you. to make you cum would be an honour." catch more flies with honey than vinegar. catch the pretty sister of a fellow driver with soft words.

he got your panties off with a little help and put them in your mouth. the sight of your mouth full of your lacy thong made all the blood in his body pool into his cock. he brushed your cheek and chuckled at your lack of resistance, "aw, does someone like to be roughed up? i bet you're just so used to everyone treating you like glass. the only daughter." he cupped your pussy with his wide hand, "how would charles feel about this? or lorenzo? they'd have my head." he kissed at your neck.

you whined, liquor swam in your head still as you squirmed a little, "don't talk about my brothers while you're fingering me." you tried to say around the panties in your mouth.

max grazed his fingers across your pussy, "alright, alright." his breath was hot in your ear as his other hand came and was placed around your throat. he shuddered a little, oh you were just a perfect fit weren't you?

now max really had to make sure that you weren't going to run off to your private university and fooled around with other boys.

maybe a baby would have to do.

he held you close to him by the throat and played with your pussy. soon he sank two digits into you and you whined around the panties in your mouth. you felt a hot flash go through you.

this was totally different, you felt the pleasure bloom in your gut as he roughly fingered you. you held onto his wrists, but remained pressed to him as he occasionally rubbed his clothed erection against your backside.

"oh, you're beautiful." he said softly, "you are so painfully beautiful. i'm surprised you haven't made yourself a whore at school. why? scared that your brothers would kill whoever touched their sister?" he kissed your cheek as he heard your whimper.

your body felt loose and your brain felt like it was working overtime. it was beyond adorable, the little cry baby with tears in her eyes. don't worry, max will make it all better.

"but you don't want anyone else, do you? you wanna be my good girl? you know so little about sex, poor thing. but don't worry, i'll make you a nice little whore for my cock." he pressed on your throat a little harder as he really started to work his fingers inside of you.

you didn't know what to think, everything around you felt oppressive but the liquor and lust short-wired your brain. you nodded and tried to speak around the fabric in your mouth, but it all came out like a jumbled mess.

max could feel the heat rise in his body, his cock grew more stiff. he liked the sight of this. you in his clothes, letting him explore your body. you were untouched territory. all for max's taking.

you wanted to cover your face from the embarrassment of being finger-fucked by your crush. but max squeezed your throat a little tighter.

"don't hide yourself from me, i want to see it all." he pressed a hard kiss onto your shoulder and watched your shudder. your pussy clenched around his fingers which only spurred him to keep bullying them into you.

you whined something around the panties in your mouth and max continued his kisses. you felt amazing on him. he hissed against your back as you hit your climax and whined loudly. you coated his entire hand in your wetness.

max moved you by your neck and kissed you on the cheek, he said, "good girl. see, orgasms aren't that hard." he let go of your throat and took the panties out of your mouth.

you were panting heavily as you said, "holy shit." your heart was hammering and you felt hot all over. you felt his arms around you waist and his mouth in your ear.

"we're not done yet." he said.

before you knew it, you were on max's bed. the shirt you had borrowed was on the floor and your bra was right next to it. when max took off your socks, you whined and he pressed all his weight on top of you. leaving one sock left on you.

he was naked on top of you, his cheeks were pink and he felt hot all over. you could see your eye bug out a little from the sight of his naked body. he pulled away soon after and grabbed you by the hips then rubbed his hard cock against your slick pussy.

"i wish your brother brought you to the track more." he chuckled as he continued to rub up against you, "you would've been so cute hanging around, you were always so curious. but, i don't know if i could contain myself if you were around often."

you blushed, "oh c'mon, stop it, max. you're going to kill me!"

max was over you, "i would never do that. i like you very much alive. you're perfect. i think it would be the best strategy your brother ever did if he had you around the paddock. i'd have to fight off every other driver to get to you."

you admitted, "i'd only want you, max."

max grinned, "is that why you're letting me take your virginity? giving yourself over to me? i bet a part of you wished i showed up, maybe that was all the plan for you." he pressed the tip of his cock up against your entrance, "someone has a crush." he was teasing, but the look on your face showed that he had you all figured out.

you squeaked, "i do! i'm sorry! i've had one for years!" you looked like you were going to cry again.

max almost came from the sight before him, he swallowed to keep himself together as he reached for your face with one hand and looked into your eyes, "you like me."

in your inebriated state you replied, "more like love you."

he chuckled, "really now? after all the times i beat your brother, you had all these feelings for me." he pressed his chest up against you, as he guided his cock into your slick slit.

you clutched onto his shoulders and tried not too tense up too much. this was a wet dream come true. you croaked, "i've always have."

"well, aren't i lucky." he said as he kissed you gently, "taking the virginity of the most beautiful woman i've ever seen." he was a snug fit in you but, he peppered your cheeks with kisses to help relax you. thankfully you were painfully wet.

he felt a curl of possession in his gut. like he needed to have you by his side. it wouldn't be hard to convince charles to let the two of you date, even if he was protective of you. he knew that max was a good man, he'd be a loving, caring boyfriend. maybe even an eventual husband.

he moved his hips slowly, not to push too much on you at once. you were still painfully drunk, all of these were admissions under intoxication. the consent of the situation was murky at best, but the way you looked at he pushed his cock into you excited him.

"do you want this?" he asked.

you nodded, your gaze unfocused, "of course. why, why would you ask that?" you really were so cute. your brain was polluted with liquor and pleasure, maybe he should've put you to bed before this all got out of hand.

but in all fairness, max was a little too far gone. he always held feelings for you, he was just better at covering them up. but, as he thrusted into you, your legs around his waist as he rutted against you. it was like the little flame from his youth came alive into an inferno.

oh, this was the woman he was meant to marry.

he kissed you once more, and picked up the pace. he held your sides, feeling your warmth against him as he felt the intense feelings bloom in your chest. call him an obsessive freak, but he should've known all those years ago.

stupid teen max, look what was right in front of him! you two could've been married by now. had a family and everything. but as he was balls deep inside of you, he believed everything happened for a reason.

you were now in his arms, under him as he moved against you. the blunt end of his cock, hit against the beginning of your cervix. a promise of what was to come. that you'd get nice and pregnant by him.

by the time he was finished with you, you were going to be at least five percent dutch if not more, you two had a whole week together. this was just the start. you two lazily made out.

the lust throbbed in your head as the liquor still coursed through your system. your mouth felt dry but you couldn't do much else but lie under him. his kisses were domineering and strong. his cock was buried up inside of you like it belonged there.

he believed that you two were two halves of a same whole. he wish he had gotten a glimpse of you sooner. seen how much you matured, he melted a little at the feeling of you. beyond perfect for him.

the pleasure was getting to your head, even in your intoxicated state. you clung to him like a life line as he moved against you. your sweet noises and that your eyes were barely open.

"beautiful." he said, "and all mine."

you swallowed, "you're wearing a condom, right?"

he staggered in his pace for a moment, but he gave you best media smile as he lied through his teeth, "of course, can't have any accidents." he kissed you once more. and you just melted into it so easily.

you then let out a sweet noise as you felt orgasm grip you. you panted heavily as the lust flooded your brain. you held onto him tightly as he continued to move against you. this all felt like a dream, and the noises you made as you came had max panting heavily.

"please."

"i need you." you said with tears in your eyes. the orgasm has torn through you and you were left a sputtering, hot mess under him.

he continued to rut against you, his pace was erratic as he moved against you. his heart raced at the sight of you. he was fully gone for you, he wanted you. tomorrow and the day after that and the day after that. he wanted his cock buried in your sweet pussy.

it was fine, obviously there was a connection. he just had to seal the deal, and with a few more strokes of his cock. he was putting all of his weight on top of him. he finished inside of you and you made a small pathetic noise.

"fuck." he groaned.

you whined, "please, max."

when he pulled away, he wasn't away long. he soon pulled you in for a searing hot kiss while he let his cock stay inside of you for a moment longer. to feel the closeness. you were a lucky girl, you were now max's newest obsession.

he licked the bead of sweat off your neck, his cock twitched inside of you. perfect.

he curled up beside you soon after, his grip on you was possessive at the least and obsessive at the most. he felt like a lion with prey between its jaws, not biting hard enough to kill it. but just to keep it still. you were a sweet little thing in his arms.

maybe it was smart for you not to be around the track as much because of school, because if max had gotten a glimpse of the little crybaby leclerc all grown up, you two would've already been married by now.

but don't worry, be a good girl and you'll have a pretty ring in your future. the thoughts pooled in max's gut and made his softening cock twitch a little.

before he could go another round with you, you were fast asleep next to him. your soft snoring could be felt in his chest. he may have had to a little lying and manipulating before, but he wasn't going to fuck that sweet cunt while you were asleep.

he wasn't a monster. but that didn't mean he got out of your sleepy grasp and grabbed his phone from his jeans pocket to take some photos. not to share of course, he doesn't share. they'll be for his personal collection when you eventually go limping back to your brother.

come morning you were wrapped up in max's arms. you woke up with a throbbing headache and the sun that came through the window made you want to die. when you tried to wiggle in his grasp, he held on tighter.

he kissed you on the back of the neck, "good morning."

the sound of his low voice was like a shock to your system as you woke up quicker. you looked over your shoulder at him and swallowed. last night was barely pieced together. but you were naked next to him under the covers with one of his cats scratching at the door demanding breakfast.

when you tried to pull away he only pulled you back to him. your back against his broad chest. he said, "you're not getting away that easily." he rested his head on your shoulder, his arms around you tightened.

"what happened last night?" you croaked.

"ah don't worry. just tell your brother your safe and sound. you can stay here until he gets back home." he rubbed his cock up against your behind, "a woman like you shouldn't be alone in a city like this. lots of bad men out there that could hurt you."

"but not you?" you felt something bloom in your chest. the familiar pang from your youth.

he kissed your jaw and said, "of course. i'll always keep you safe." as if his cum wasn't dried to your inner thigh. but don't worry, he'll freshen it up once that pesky headache of yours is gone. after all, your sweet older brother was gone for another week.

-

"you know." charles said sometime later, he was in max's drivers room picking at the food on the table, "i feel like i should kill you for fucking my sister."

max was seated across from him, one leg over the other. he smirked, "and what's stopping you?"

charles shrugged, "i don't have to hear her talk about you all the time. i mean, at least i can vouch for you. you are practically family, better than some random guy that she met at school." he looked at his fellow driver, "will not forgive you for getting her pregnant though. and outside of marriage too. you should've heard our mother when she told her." he rubbed his forehead.

max chuckled, "well that'll be dealt with after the season. it feels wrong scheduling it between races. she deserves a lovely wedding."

"good, good. and i better see my nephew! we live in the same city, you better not lock her away!" charles shook his finger at max.

max laughed, "don't worry don't worry. but i cannot promise that he race for monaco when he grows up." then winked at his fellow driver (and future brother in law).

in the end, max hobbled together a narrative of the night you spent together. which led to a week together, which led to you getting pregnant by him. no one could've suspected that he could ever hurt a hair on your head. he was too in love with you, almost to an obsessive degree. he took your virginity and now you were taking his last name. <3

[morganbritton132]

Steve Has Older Siblings AU: Robin Edition

In an ideal world, Steve’s family life is completely separate from everything important. But in an ideal world, monsters don’t exist so, you know.

1. Technically the first of Steve’s siblings that Robin meets is Jason because he came into Scoops Ahoy to be an asshole. Robin liked to see King Steve knocked down a peg or two more than the next person but not by a forty year old (he’s 32) loser who has nothing better to do on a Tuesday afternoon. Robin sees him knock Steve’s hat off his head and then informs him that they had a zero tolerance harassment policy (they don’t) and they can and are denying him service. “So leave, now.”

2. The first time she is aware that she’s meeting one of Steve’s siblings is after Starcourt burns down. They were drugged, tired, and Russians took Steve’s car keys so it felt like a good idea to just lay back on the hood of the Beemer and watch the smoke swirl in the air until they come up with what to do.

They never think of anything, and she is startled awake the next morning hungover and dehydrated by someone laying on their horn. Robin looks at the car and then at Steve, and then asks, “Is that your dad?”

Steve - looking somehow worse than yesterday - just blinks in the direction of the car like, “Richie?”

“Get in the car,” Richie practically seethes, barely lets them get in before he starts asking questions like, what the fuck and are you high, right now?”

“I don’t dooo drugs, Dad,” Steve spat out annoyed and Robin, in the backseat, felt compelled to adds, “Drugs do me.”

They both start giggling and can’t stop even when Richie tries to lecture them.

3. Robin meets Jason again when he attacks her.

She doesn’t remember much about the car ride back to Loch Nora or how Steve convinced Richie not to take them to the hospital, but she remembers flopping face first onto Steve’s cloud of a bed. She remembers him taking her shoes off for her and pulling the covers up.

Then she is rudely woken up by a hand yanking her out of bed and big arms wrapping around her head. They’re barely there before Steve is shoving them off her like, “Fuck off, Jason.”

“Carver?” She asks but, no. It’s the dick from the mall. She is ignored while Jason prattles on about how it’s not his fault that Steve looks so much like a girl that he confused him with one. Then he’s whistling about how Steve has a girl in his bed and how surprising that is to them considering they all thought he was a queer.

Robin stiffens beside him. New queer ally, Steve Harrington, not wanting her to be uncomfortable, blurts out, “What if I am?”

And the room goes quiet. Steve’s quiet. Jason’s frozen. Richie, coming in through the door, wasn’t moving. This family doesn’t really paint a picture of unconditional love and acceptance so Robin throws her entire (unsuccessful) theater career into use and slugs Steve in the arm with a snort like, “Yeah, right. With all the girls you flirt with? Ha!”

And everything comes back to life. The hospital conversation comes up and morphs into an argument immediately. Robin is just happy to fade into the background and observe.

4. Robin probably should’ve met Claire that day too but the hospital was an apparent disaster. She actually meets Claire randomly at Family Video.

She sees a woman who’s kinda cute come in and peruse the shelves. She comes to the counter where Robin is on register and Steve is stocking candy right next to her.

She’s carrying The Muppet Movie and makes small talk about watching it with her kids, and never looks twice in Steve’s directly. She’s not in the system and just laughs, “It’s probably under my maiden name, Harrington.”

Robin gives her a tight smile and finishes the transaction. Claire leaves with barely a ‘bye’ to her brother and Robin decides right there that she hates them all.

[andreafmn]

Kinktober ⛓️ Day 3

Word Count: 2.5K Paring:  Lip Gallagher x Fem!Reader Prompt @kinktober2023: Hate Sex WARNINGS: SMUT 18+ (minors DNI),  p-in-v sex, foul language, reader is technically underage

Summary: There is no one that (Y/N) despises more than Philip Gallagher, but having his brother as her best friend forces them in close proximity more than they would like. Or maybe they do?

A/N: This is set some time during season 3 so Lip is around 18 and reader would be 17 since she's contemporary with Ian's age, so do with that what you will.

<- Previous

“Yo, Ian,” Lip’s voice rang through the house. “Your girlfriend’s here!”

“Oh, fuck off, Lip,” (Y/N) said as she bumped past him into the Gallagher home. “I know you wish I was here to see you, but I don’t do charity work on Tuesdays.” 

“Fuck you, (Y/L/N). You’d be lucky if I was the one you were studying with.” 

“Of course, the genius Philip Gallagher that doesn’t even want to go to college,” she snickered, stopping at the rest on the stairs. “I’ll take my chances with my own brain. Thanks.”  

“You’ll regret helping Ian with math,” he called as he walked to the front door. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” 

With an exasperated scoff, (Y/N) walked up the rest of the stairs, clutching her backpack tighter than she should have. She didn’t understand why she and the older Gallagher son didn’t get along. She had a wonderful relationship with everyone else in the family –even Frank was courteous enough with her– but something never clicked with Lip. Every time they were in close proximity, they would bicker and fight until someone else got in the way. It made it especially difficult when (Y/N) came over to spend time with Ian. 

She would never say she hated Lip. But the sentiment was close enough that others would notice. Between the terrible side-eyes and the snide comments, being around the two could easily become suffocating. Granted, everyone but them knew what was truly happening. They had met their match in each other but were too stubborn to admit it. 

“You ran into Lip, didn’t you?” Ian chuckled as his friend walked into his room. “It’s all over your face.” 

“Unfortunately, I did,” she sighed, plopping down next to him on the floor. “But he seemed to be going somewhere, so I didn’t have to talk to him for much.” 

“Just long enough to make sure you got annoyed. Perfect mood to study Geometry with you.” 

“Fuck you, I’m always a delight.” 

“Sure. Until you spend a second with Lip, and then everything goes to shit.” 

“Shut up, Ian,” she said, rolling her eyes. “If you want me to help you study, you’ll stop talking about your despicable brother, Phillip.” 

Hours passed between textbooks and worksheets, notebooks and loose papers, and somehow the bright afternoon sun had shifted into night. Ian had already gone to bed, tired from a long day of shapes and mathematical equations. Almost everyone in the house had done the same, tucked into bed early, which was a luxury for anyone on the South Side. 

Meanwhile, (Y/N) was still wide awake, taking advantage of the tiredness of the family to use up what was left of the hot water. She could have gone home, to her packed house and probably cold water, but she found comfort staying with the Gallaghers. The family was a melting pot of chaos, there were more fights than a WWE ring, and every single day brought a different kind of adventure. Her house had all of that, except the real warmth of a family. And being there made her feel like she was a part of something. 

The water ran across her skin, soothing the tight muscles that stiffened her body. The smell of soap filled her nose as she lathered herself, and she was glad that the bar seemed new still. They were small luxuries that she was grateful she could partake in every once in a while. And in the quiet of the night, it was almost peaceful.

Until a sound that did not fit into her spa-like scenario filled the air. From behind the curtain, she could hear a strong stream of liquid falling into the toilet. But she knew she had locked the door —not that it would have worked in that house anyway. 

She moved the curtain slightly to reveal Lip standing in front of the toilet. “What the fuck are you doing?” (Y/N) exclaimed, making sure her body was covered. “Can’t you see I’m using the bathroom?” 

“You’re in the shower. Toilet was up for grabs.” 

“Why couldn’t you have gone downstairs?” 

“Because I was already upstairs,” he shrugged, shaking his cock above the toilet as he finished. “Stop gawking, (Y/N). I know it’s impressive, but staring is kind of rude.” 

“Fuck you, Lip. I’ve seen better,” she said, closing the curtain to conceal the way her skin was flushing. “I’ve definitely been with better.” 

“Keep telling yourself that,” he snickered, turning on the sink. “But we both know the guys you’ve fucked are not exactly Adonises.”

“You’re such an asshole, Lip,” she scoffed. “If you’re gonna be here, at least pass me my towel.”

“Why should I? You can just step out.” 

“You’re not seeing me naked, Lip.” 

“It’s only fair,” he chuckled. “You saw mine, I get to see yours.” 

“Stop being a perv, Lip. I’m not one of those chicks you fuck for fun. I actually have standards.” 

“Right, and they’re so high, right?”

“They are.” 

“Is that why you fucked Billy Spencer two months ago or lost your v-card with Jesse Suarez in his car? Yeah, those standards are skyscraping high.” 

In a fit of rage, (Y/N) ripped the curtain open and sauntered out of the tub, getting as close to Lip as possible. “You don’t get to fucking judge my decisions, Philip,” she spat, jabbing her index finger against his chest. “Who I sleep with or don’t sleep with is none of your business. And you sure as hell are one to talk. Your list is not the most pristine, either. Starting with Karen, for example.”

“Don’t you fucking talk about her,” he said through gritted teeth, pushing back on her as she had. “You don’t talk about her.” 

“What? You can dish it out but can’t fucking take it, huh?”

“I can take whatever you fucking throw at me, (Y/N). I ain’t scared of you.” 

“Maybe you should be,” she continued. There was almost no space between them. She had him pressed against the wall, their noses almost touching as they heaved in anger. “There is no one else that can put you in your place like I can, and you know it.” 

“I don’t need you to put me in my place.”

“Are you sure?”

“You’re so fucking infuriating!” 

“Yeah? And what are you gonna do about it?” 

Lip’s next move was a surprise to her. She was expecting him to keep yelling or stomp out of the bathroom. Instead, he placed a hand on either side of her face and crashed his lips onto hers. He was all kinds of rough and forceful, clashing teeth and lips together without any care. But somehow, (Y/N) found herself kissing back just as roughly, grabbing onto the lapel of his jacket. 

But it wasn’t until she felt the roughness of his hands on the skin of her back that she realized she had jumped out of the shower, naked and still dripping with water. She jumped away from Lip as though his touch was fire and scrambled for her towel, trying her best to cover her body from him.

“Why are you covering yourself now?” he laughed. “I already saw everything, (Y/N).”

“Fuck you, Philip.”

“I was gonna let you,” he grinned. “But it looks like you got performance anxiety. Maybe you’re not as good as guys say.” 

“Not that it’s any of your concern, but I’m great in bed,” she argued. “But I would rather do it with someone I actually like.”

“It’s just sex, (Y/N),” he countered. “This is not to fall in love.” 

(Y/N) kept quiet for a beat, thinking over the boy’s request. His reputation for being a good lay preceded him, and she would have been lying if she said she had never thought about it. But the fact that his personality was almost revolting made her wonder if it was worth it. 

“God, you’re so fucking infuriating,” she said before doing the same thing he had done. “This means nothing. You’re just convenient.”

“Right,” he chuckled against her mouth. “Keep telling yourself that.”

“Oh, shut up already.” 

“Make me.” 

Her lips did all the answering, molding to his mouth perfectly, their tongues dancing together in perfect symphony. If she had believed in fate and the alignment of the universe, she would have deluded herself into thinking that they were meant to be. 

Lip’s clothes were rough against her unclothed skin, the zippers and the fabrics scratching at her body and rubbing the most sensitive parts of her body that were exposed. Warmth pooled between her legs with the kiss alone, and her body’s reaction scared her. It was almost instantaneous, and it had been the first time it had happened. 

“It’s not fair that I’m the only one that’s naked,” she said breathlessly.

“Do you ever stop fucking talking?” 

“Not when my mouth’s unoccupied,” she snickered. “And I have a lot to say.”  

“You’re too fucking much,” he grumbled as he took off layer after layer of clothing, letting them fall to the floor. “Now come here.”

He kissed her roughly again, pressing his chest as close to her body as he could, his hands snaking to the small of her back. As their mouth moved in synch, they walked backward until her back was pressed against the wall, the coldness making her skin erupt in goosebumps. But his hands were enough to build a fire inside her. The way they mapped every inch of her body and worked in tandem with his mouth to find her most sensitive spots. 

Lip nipped at her jaw and her neck, traveling down to her collarbone as his hands tweaked the hardened peaks of her breasts. Somehow, he was able to annoy her within an inch of raging ire and could bring her to the brink of orgasm with just his mouth and hands. 

In a swift move, Lip turned (Y/N), bending her against the wall as he pulled the zipper of his pants down. The clothes pooled at his ankles as he held his cock and lined himself up with her wetness, running the head across her fold and teasing her clit. 

“For someone that is just doing this out of convenience, you’re really wet,” he chuckled darkly. “Have you been dreaming about this?” 

“I could ask the same of you, Philip,” she retorted. “Because for someone that doesn’t really care, you’re really fucking hard.” 

“I’m only just a man, (Y/N).” 

“How about you shut up and prove it already, then? Maybe…” 

(Y/N)’s words died in her throat as she felt him sink into her completely, stretching her walls like no one had done before. He took the air out of her lungs, a moan getting strangled in her throat at the suddenness. 

Lip didn’t move instantly, allowing her body to get used to the size. At least, that was what he would have said if she had asked. Truthfully, being inside her was the most overwhelming experience he had ever had. He needed a moment to compose himself before he busted too early. The last thing he needed was for (Y/N) to have more ammo against him. He enjoyed their bickering reparté, but he had quite the reputation when it came to sex, and he wouldn’t let her ruin it. Even if his body was trying to betray him. 

Once he felt he could control himself, he started moving hips, quickly setting a pace that had (Y/N) letting out a string of moans that he wanted to listen to for the rest of his life. Her hands gripped the towel bar before her, her knuckles turning white from the tightness. She met his every move, pushing against him as he pummeled into her. 

“Harder,” she meweled. “Fuck me harder, Philip.” 

Lip did exactly as told. Skin met skin at a rapid pace, filling the otherwise quiet room with pants, moans, and slaps. Even her using his full name did not put a damper on his mood, rather loved the way it sounded in her mouth. And for the first time, it didn’t sound like she was saying it with  hate. At least, not completely. 

He snaked his hand around her body, his hand finding the mound of her clit and pressing two fingers on it. They circled and rolled the bud, making her walls clench around him as he pistoned into her. He knew both of them were reaching their end. The tightening of her cunt and the tightening of his balls told him enough.

“Fuck, don’t stop, Lip. Don’t you dare fucking stop.” 

“I wasn’t planning to.” 

And he didn’t. He kept thrusting until (Y/N) let out a pleasurable yell that had him covering her mouth. As he did, she bit down on his skin unconsciously, making him moan and awakening something in him he didn’t know was dormant. It brought him right to the brink of his end, and it took everything in him to leave her warmth and explode all over her ass. 

His body slumped over hers, absentmindedly kissing the skin of her shoulder as they both came down from their orgasm. They felt comfortable in their silence, their pants synching and their bodies melting against each other. If they could have, they would have fallen asleep in that very position. 

But a knock on the door startled them apart.

“Yo, I need the bathroom,” Carl called from the other side of the door. “I’ve gotta piss real bad.” 

“Can you go downstairs, Carl?” (Y/N) asked. “I’m just finishing up in the shower.” 

“Ugh, fine! Just hurry up. There’s more people in this house, you know?” 

“Yeah, sorry!” 

After wiping themselves down, Lip and (Y/N) started getting dressed, neither meeting each other’s gaze. “We don’t speak about this to anyone,” she finally said. “Especially not Ian. And this can’t happen ever again.” 

“Sure,” he mumbled. “Whatever you say.” 

“I’m serious, Philip,” she pleaded, placing a hand on his chest to get his attention. “If Ian finds out, I’ll never hear the end of it.” 

“I won’t say anything,” he laughed, looking at her in a way he never had before. “But I wouldn’t mind if this happened again.” 

“Are you serious?” 

“What? The rumors are true. You are a good lay.” 

“You’re not too bad yourself, Mr. Gallagher,” she grinned before stopping at the door to exit first. “But I don’t think this will happen again.” 

“Keep telling yourself that, (Y/N).” 

“Fuck off, Philip,” she whispered from the end of the hall before disappearing into the boys’ bedroom, leaving Lip to think of just how he could make this a repeat situation.

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[slut4thebroken]

Pathetic

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Stepbro!Neil Lewis x reader

Summary | Your stepbrother is weird and annoying, but you’ve found a way to make good use of him.

Warnings | Smut, dub con? but like not really, incest technically, dry humping, cunnilingus, multiple orgasms, he’s very pathetic, and subby, reader is very mean.

Words | 1.2 k

Notes | Idk in my head they’re both in college but still living at home lol. Also once again, I can’t think of a title😭

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

Kinktober | day 17: degradation

You thought your step brother was super weird and honestly a little annoying… but there were some redeeming qualities. He’ll pretty much do whatever you say— he’s only a few months younger, but he acts like it. Even though he’s taller and probably stronger, you can still boss him around like an older sister should. Then there was… his other useful quality. 

“You’re such a fucking pervert.” You spat, almost disgusted, and he whined behind you as his hips sped up. You were currently on your hands and knees on his bed, wearing just a shirt and panties. Neil was behind you, holding your hips still so he could dry hump you with his clothed dick in the cleft of your ass, over your underwear. “This is what gets you off? Humping your sister like a dog?” You snickered. 

“Oh god…” He moaned, rutting against you harder and faster. “Fuck, I- I’m gonna come.” He whimpered and you barked out a laugh. 

“Already?” His whines got louder and louder until his hips stilled a little and he was moaning and whimpering instead. You could feel his come soaking through both pairs of underwear and his cock twitching as it stayed pressed between your cheeks. “That’s all it takes? You just rub your dick on something and come in less than five minutes?” 

“Stop..” He whined pathetically. 

“Get off me.” You huffed, leaning up to push him down on the bed. You got him on his back, then straddled his hips and began grinding on him again, this time with your cunt.  

“Wait- wait,” He choked out, grabbing your hips. He let out a pained whine at the overstimulation, only encouraging you. 

“Don’t be such a baby.” You started grinding down on him harder, mostly to make it hurt more for him, but also to finally get yourself close to the edge. 

“Please stop..” He threw his head back and squeezed his eyes shut, barely coping with the overstimulation. 

“God- do you ever shut up?” You groaned, leaning over him to put a hand over his mouth. The new angle was stimulating your clit even more, making you curse under your breath. 

He sobbed out a moan behind your hand and looked up at you with glossy eyes, his brows scrunched together in pain. Pink dusted his cheeks and you couldn’t help but enjoy the sight. 

He’s never looked more pathetic. 

“Y’know, if you actually knew how to make a girl come, I wouldn’t have to do this.” You said bitterly, making him whine. “Of course I had to get stuck with a fucking virgin for a step brother. Maybe I’ll go find one of your friends— see if they have better stamina than a fucking teenager.” His hips bucked under yours, making you smirk a little. 

“Oh, do you like that?” You sneered. “Is that what you are, a cuck? Should I let you watch your friends do a better job than you ever could?” In response, he whimpered and shook his head. 

“You’re so fucking useless. This isn’t even worth it— I’m just going to get off by myself.” You started to lean up and when he reached out for you in a panic, you slapped his hands away. 

“No! I- I’m sorry. I can help.” 

“Can you?” You scoffed. “I don’t think your pathetic excuse for a cock will help me very much.” 

“My— my mouth..” You huffed, but laid down on your back, making him frown when your come soaked underwear got on his sheets. 

“Get to it then.” You snapped, bringing him into motion. He laid down between your legs and wrapped his arms under your thighs, then pulled your underwear to the side. He started with slow kisses and licks, quickly testing your patience. “Why am I coming like this and not with my vibrator?” You asked sarcastically, egging him on. Which got him to start moving more enthusiastically, sucking on your clit and slurping up your arousal. 

“God, you even eat pussy like a fucking virgin.” You muttered, sounding almost bored. He whined against you, sucking on your clit even harder and occassionally fucking his tongue inside you. 

You waited for him to bring you to the edge, but it was taking a while, so you decided to grab your phone and watch something to help you get there. The movement of you picking up the device caught his attention and he looked up at you without removing his mouth from your pussy. When moans started playing through the speaker, he immediately frowned and his ministrations faltered. 

“I let you come. Do the same for me or I’ll tell your mom about how much of a pervert her ‘precious baby boy’ is.” You snapped. He stared at you with slightly wide eyes, then reluctantly put his attention back on your cunt. 

The porn was definitely helping, as was knowing how degraded he probably felt. After a few minutes, he pulled back and you looked down at him, raising your brows. 

“My tongue is getting sore.” He explained with a pout, making you scoff. 

“You’re the one who begged to eat me out. Stop fucking complaining.” Using your free hand, you grabbed his hair and yanked his head back down, burying his face in your pussy. You held him in place like that for a few minutes, but when you started nearing the edge, you put his head in a leg lock, keeping his mouth pressed firmly against your cunt, giving him no other choice but to make you come. 

When you finally fell over the edge, you squeezed his head with your leg even tighter and your back arched off the bed. He was moaning against you and humping the bed, apparently enjoying your orgasm almost as much as you. 

After the pleasure faded, you let out a heavy breath and sagged back onto the bed, closing your eyes. Neil let out a soft sound against your pussy, so you sighed, but let your leg fall back down onto the bed, allowing him to pull off. The bottom half of his face was completely covered in his spit and your arousal, and he panted heavily for a few seconds as he wiped his face with the back of his hand. 

“Can I please come again?” He asked timidly, waiting until you had mostly recovered from your orgasm to ask. 

You looked down at him, then rolled your eyes and reached for your phone again. “Whatever. Hump my leg I guess.” He whined quietly, but straddled your thigh and started rutting against you while you scrolled through your phone, waiting impatiently for him to finish. 

Soon enough, his breathing was starting to pick up and his hips were moving more desperately as he neared the edge. “Fuck.. I’m gonna come.” He choked out, humping you frantically. When the front door slammed shut though, both of you froze. 

“Can you help bring in the groceries?” His mom called out from downstairs. 

“Be right there!” You yelled back, then sat up, making him whine loudly. 

“No- please.. I’m so close.” 

“Not my problem, loser. Get off.” You spat, pushing him off your leg onto the bed. You stood up, but paused when you heard quiet whimpering. More come was leaking from his underwear and he quickly reached down to try and salvage the rest of his ruined orgasm. You watched him stroke his erection through the fabric, getting his come all over his hands and crotch, making an even bigger mess. 

“You’re so fucking gross.” You scoffed, making him whine pathetically. Before leaving, you picked up his shirt from the floor and wiped the rest of his come from your ass, then put your shorts back on and walked out. 

[sellasstories]

CLOSE (III)

word count: 6.0k

pairing: paige bueckers x azzi fudd

⚠️warnings⚠️

implied smut, angst, mentions of a panic attack, swearing

prompts:

what happens when two best friends with strong, undefined feelings quarantine together (part 3: pazzi)

in other words, the pazzi covid fic

“We haven’t done anything fun in a while,” Azzi remarks one night while she and Paige are getting ready for bed in her room.

“Huh, you’re right. What were you thinking?” Paige asks disinterestedly as she climbs under the covers.

“Oh, you know,” Azzi makes eye contact with the blonde as she steps out of her shorts. “I have a few ideas.”

Paige almost chokes on her saliva. “Like what?” she asks, pretending like she’s not blushing furiously.

“Like going to the park,” Azzi rolls her eyes and Paige notices for the first time that she’s put on jean shorts instead of pyjamas.

“But why? We go like every day,” the older girl retorts.

“Because we should go right now. Alone, without my annoying ass brothers. Plus, I’ve never been at night, maybe it’s better.” Azzi’s logic might be slightly questionable, but Paige is already standing up.

“Okay, I’m down. Let me go get changed.”

Azzi watches her best friend leave, marvelling at how easy it was to convince her. Obviously, Paige was going to agree because she’s always game for an adventure, but Azzi was fully expecting the blonde’s usual stubbornness that came up whenever the younger girl suggested anything.

Come to think of it, Paige has been quicker to agree recently. Azzi wouldn’t necessarily bet money on it, but she’s pretty sure it started around the time that she started flirting with Paige. Really, she doesn’t mind (if anything, it’s made her life easier), but she’s starting to worry that it’s actually affecting Paige in a profound way. Azzi would have to be blind and probably stupid to not pick up on the intensity of her best friend’s reactions, but that doesn’t mean she’s able to tell if they’re due to Paige being flustered or uncomfortable. The problem is that now that she’s started, she can’t seem to stop.

Technically, nothing’s happened, but Paige is definitely looking at Azzi differently, and the ambiguity of the older girl’s responses prevents Azzi from having full confidence in her own actions. She should be better than this — she knows she’s better than this — but there’s something undeniably addicting about allowing her true feelings to be put out in the open, even only slightly.

It’s with all this in mind that Azzi finishes getting dressed, electing to curl her eyelashes and put on lip gloss for the first time in months. Already feeling antsy, she sits on her bed, tapping her fingers on her thighs as she waits for Paige. Azzi soon opens Snapchat out of boredom and is pleasantly surprised at what she sees in the camera. Her cropped tank top showcases both her abs and cleavage (both very deliberate decisions on her part), and — she’s not sure if it’s the makeup or the adrenaline — she looks confident, maybe even… seductive?

Smirking to herself, Azzi reclines onto an elbow and takes a photo from high enough to showcase all of her accessories. She barely looks at it before captioning it, ‘I’m ready ;) waiting for you’ and sending it to Paige.

Paige, face already heating up as she opens it, is so focused on saving it that she forgets to respond. Frantically getting ready, she almost slams her bedroom door shut in her haste to see her best friend up close.

Azzi hasn’t moved for her bed, nor has the smirk left her face. “Photo so good it left you speechless?” She notices a smudge of mascara on Paige’s eyelid and her smile gets wider. Clearly, she wasn’t the only one putting effort into her appearance tonight.

Paige’s heartbeat is going crazy, and it’s definitely not from her sprinting to her best friend’s room. “More like I didn’t want you pestering me to get ready faster,” she makes herself roll her eyes.

Azzi stands up and stretches, making her shirt ride up even higher. “That’s why you saved it, right?”

Paige looks at her shoes. “Accident?” She doesn’t even sound convincing to herself. “Anyways, shouldn’t you grab a hoodie or something before we head out?”

“It’s summer, I’ll be fine,” Azzi reassures the blonde. “Besides,” she grabs the front of Paige’s hoodie, “I can always wear yours if it comes to that.”

“Let’s just go,” Paige groans. She doesn’t bother denying Azzi’s claim because they both know it’s true.

•••••

“Fuck, I think we forgot the ball.”

“I thought you were bringing it!”

“It’s fine, we can do other stuff,” Azzi shrugs. “Playing when it’s this dark is probably dangerous anyway.”

“Always so practical, Az,” Paige says sarcastically. She easily avoids the younger girl’s attempt to smack the back of her head.

“Whatever, race you to the swings!” Azzi’s already running.

Paige really should win — she’s in sneakers compared to Azzi’s slides — but when the dark-haired girl reaches the play structure first, the smile on her face makes Paige feel like a winner, too.

The girls swing in silence for a few minutes before Paige has to speak. “You know what swings are for right?”

Azzi looks at her quizzically. “No? Swinging, I guess?”

“When I was a kid, everyone would go on the swings to tell secrets. We literally called them ‘Secret Swings’!” A look of betrayal crosses Paige’s face as her best friend’s confusion intensifies. “Wait, did you actually not do that?”

“I’ve never heard of it,” Azzi says. “Must be a Minnesota thing… or you’re full of shit.”

“How could you say that,” Paige pouts. “It was like, my whole childhood.”

“I’m just saying, you’re kinda obsessed with learning my secrets lately,” Azzi teases her.

“Am not,” Paige retorts. “I just wanna learn more about you because you’re my best friend,” she says in a high-pitched voice.

“You’re so stupid,” Azzi can’t hide her smile at Paige’s antics. “Sorry to disappoint, but I don’t actually have any deep dark secrets. The closest thing was-” she pauses, not sure if she’s comfortable saying it yet, “-what I told you when we were drunk. And that’s out of the bag now, so you officially know everything about me.”

Paige isn’t satisfied with her best friend’s answer. “Fine. If you’re gonna be boring, I’ll tell you a secret,” she looks at Azzi, waiting for her to make eye contact before continuing solemnly, “I really like you.” Seeing Azzi’s raised eyebrow, her eyes widen as she’s quick to add, “as a friend, I mean!”

Azzi clasps a hand to her heart, choosing not to comment on Paige’s darkening cheeks. “While I’m touched, I may have already known that,” she says sarcastically. Even though they’re alone at the park, she lowers her voice to a whisper. “You coming to live with me kinda gave it away.”

“I don’t like this game anymore,” Paige jumps off the swing and dramatically falls to the ground.

Giggling, Azzi follows her lead but stays upright, offering the blonde a hand. Paige allows herself to be pulled to her feet, confused when Azzi doesn’t drop her hands.

“Can I tell you a secret, P?” She leans to whisper in Paige’s ear. “I really like you, too.”

It speaks to how much has changed that Azzi feels comfortable not adding the ‘as a friend’ distinction like Paige did, content to drop her hands and run off in search of their next activity. Paige picks up on her wording, of course, and she can do nothing but stand there speechless as Azzi’s silhouette disappears into the darkness.

Azzi’s prior worries about the dangers of playing in the low light don’t seem to extend to tag as she’s happy to start an unexpected game in the empty field by the playground.

They chase each other back and forth, laughing every time the other slips on grass still wet from a storm the previous day. After one such time, Azzi thinks she’s gotten away as she runs up a hill, only to discover a fence that would be too hard to climb with her current footwear. Seeing Paige approaching, she runs along the fence until it changes direction.

“You’re literally cornered, there’s nothing you can do,” Paige says gleefully as she gets closer.

Azzi almost makes it. She slips through Paige’s outstretched arms, but the blonde is quick and an expert at reading her. The next thing she knows, Paige has tackled her and they’re tumbling into the grass and rolling down the hill.

They come to a stop, both seeming to realize at the same time that Paige is on top of Azzi in a way that has their bodies pressed together and their faces much too close for friends in their situation. Paige makes no move to get up, and Azzi doesn’t push her off as they stare at each other, panting slightly.

Paige reaches out to pluck a strand of grass from Azzi’s hair and is disarmed by how calm the younger girl seems to be. She knows that her own heart is nearly beating out of her chest, but her best friend appears content to stay where she is, seemingly unbothered by their position.

Facing skyward in the grass, Paige thinks that Azzi belongs in the moonlight. For a fleeting moment, she imagines closing the distance between them to press her lips against her best friend’s. Instead, she settles for another kiss on the younger girl’s forehead.

When Paige pulls away, Azzi’s looking at her like she knows the answer to a question Paige hasn’t even thought to ask yet, and it sends her mind scrambling. Can she see how this is affecting me… does she know how I feel? Oh fuck, what if she’s uncomfortable?

That last thought has Paige scrambling to get up, despite no discernible change in Azzi’s body language. The dark-haired girl extends a hand up so Paige can pull her to her feet.

“If you’d stayed there any longer, I’d have no choice but to think you liked having me under you,” she says with a laugh, walking off to find a shoe that went missing in their scuffle.

For the second time that night, Paige is left speechless as Azzi walks off into the darkness.

They decide to go home soon after and Azzi, wanting to get the grass off, gets in the shower. She’s surprised to find her bed empty when she gets out, expecting Paige to be there as usual. Confused, the dark-haired girl goes down the hall to find Paige’s door locked with no light or sound coming from the room.

“Paige…?” she calls out softly. Getting no answer, she sighs and begins to make her way back to her own room. This is so weird. Come to think of it, Paige had maybe been a little closed off on the walk home, but Azzi figured it was just because her best friend was tired.

Paige listens to Azzi’s footsteps fade away from the door. Her breath shakes as she tries to hold back tears. She’d pushed it way too far with Azzi tonight, there was no way around that.

The blonde mentally berates herself for her actions. Azzi’s tone was always the same, it was so clear that she was joking, so why had Paige almost kissed her? She doesn’t know how she let things get to this point, but she does know that it’s time to set some rules with herself.

Even as she resolves to put up firm boundaries, Paige still finds herself subconsciously missing Azzi’s comforting presence next to her. As much as she hates it, Paige realizes that she has to find ways to distance herself from the dark-haired girl in spite of their inevitable proximity.

They don’t talk about it, but neither Paige nor Azzi sleeps well that night.

•••••

Azzi thinks that something must be wrong with Paige. The blonde has always been a physically affectionate person — really, they both have, at least with each other — so it’s almost impossible for Azzi to miss the space between them as they’re sitting on the couch watching some random movie. She almost thinks she imagined it because Paige still lets Azzi cuddle up against her, though there is a certain stiffness to the arm that wraps around her.

And it keeps getting worse. Azzi doesn’t know how she’d barely noticed them before, but the absence of gentle hands on her hips, arms thrown over her shoulders, and brushes of fingertips the next day is glaringly obvious to her. She can’t pretend that it doesn’t sting a little.

She considers asking Paige if she’s mad at her or something, but decides against it. Apart from whatever this is, her best friend is acting mostly normal, still looking at Azzi with the usual radiant smile and bright eyes (“that look like she’d give you the world,” Azzi’s mom had once said). So Azzi lets it go. This is fine.

And it should be, except… Azzi just wishes she knew what was going on. Needs to know, almost. She tries to think back to the night in the park, when her best friend started acting weird. Nothing stands out to her as abnormal. As much as she wants to ask Paige what the problem is, the blonde’s unwillingness to address it gives her pause.

While Azzi can’t remember anything like this ever happening to them, she’s not quite ready to start panicking. No one else has noticed the slight change in their interactions, and she reasons sadly that they might just be getting older or something. They’ll be fine, they have to be.

•••••

After a week, Azzi’s almost made peace with this new version of Paige. Thankfully, they still observe their routines and end up cuddled in Azzi’s bed watching some new show that has caught their eye.

If Azzi always waits for Paige to lay down so she can make sure they’re as entwined as possible, nobody needs to know. And if she thinks she feels Paige’s heartbeat speed up when she lays her head on the older girl’s chest, that’s a secret that she’s happy to keep.

This particular night, Azzi’s eyes are stubbornly refusing to stay open, and she decides that it’s Paige’s fault. Azzi’s head is in its usual spot on her best friend’s chest as she lays on her side. Paige’s large hands are rubbing soothing circles on her back, occasionally dipping low enough to graze the exposed skin where her hoodie has ridden up. She doesn’t know what caused it (she hadn’t even asked), but she isn’t complaining because Paige’s hands feel really good and this is the first time in a while that the blonde has touched her first.

Realistically, there was no reason that she couldn’t drift off. It had happened many times before, and it’s not like Paige would complain. But Azzi likes this time, their time, when she allows her imagination to run wild just for a little while as the pounding heartbeat beneath her echoes in her ear. So she fights to stay awake, even as her breathing evens out and her body relaxes even more.

Paige looks down at the peaceful expression on the younger girl’s face, and it almost physically hurts how beautiful she is. She can’t help but stare, a million thoughts running through her mind. Feeling brave, she plants a gentle kiss on the top of Azzi’s head, hoping that somehow her best friend will understand everything that she put into it.

Azzi doesn’t say anything, but her lips tilt upward in a soft smile. She snuggles closer and drapes an arm and a leg over the blonde.

Paige feels the gradual change in the rise and fall of Azzi’s chest, and it doesn’t even occur to her how crazy it was that she knows exactly what it means: Azzi is very close to falling asleep.

Quietly, she fumbles around for the TV remote and pauses the show, not wanting to risk waking Azzi up. The younger girl shifts slightly again and Paige holds her breath for what feels like forever.

Finally daring to exhale, she slowly returns her hands to Azzi’s back and sinks further into the pillows. The soft glow of the TV continues to illuminate the room, and Paige continues to look at Azzi.

Later, she’d come up with a million excuses for what she’d said. It was late, she was tired, she wasn’t thinking. But maybe it was simply an utterance of the truth that had been building, because it felt good to say out loud, even if it didn’t change anything.

A confession whispered in the dark, loud enough to cut through the thick fog of sleep in Azzi’s brain.

“I wanna kiss you so bad right now, you know. Like, for real.”

An answer muffled by her face still pressed into Paige’s chest.

“Do it, then.”

Paige’s heart stops. She’s pretty sure she actually forgets how to breathe as Azzi’s eyes open and she lifts her head.

Azzi props herself up on an elbow. “Did you mean it, P?” Her eyes droop as if she’s just asked the most unimportant question in the world, not one that could completely ruin their entire friendship.

Paige is frozen, her blue eyes wide with shock. “I-” The lump forming in her throat stops her from answering, and that’s honestly fine, because she doesn’t know what she would’ve said. All she can do is stare helplessly, desperately blinking back tears.

Azzi’s gaze softens. “Baby, it’s okay,” she soothes, her voice still gravelly. Rubbing her eyes, she pushes herself up into a sitting position, sliding her leg all the way over so that she’s straddling Paige.

“I’m going to kiss you now, okay? Unless you don’t want that,” she says gently. She leans forward to tuck a strand of hair behind Paige’s ear, getting a whiff of coconut and vanilla. She used my shampoo. It’s so domestic, and the realization further solidifies in Azzi’s mind that what she’s about to do is right.

Azzi looks down at Paige, unable to keep the excited smile off her face, knowing she’s wanted this for years now. As she places a hand on Paige’s cheek, the blonde gives a hesitant nod, and it gives Azzi the confidence to connect their lips.

It’s tentative and new and honestly, a little scary. Despite her outward demeanour, Azzi’s heart is racing just as fast as Paige’s as their lips move against each other. But as they both relax into the kiss, a sense of calm settles over them. This feels safe. This feels right. This feels like them.

Their foreheads stay pressed together as they break apart and inhale. Azzi wants to roll her eyes at the stupid smirk on Paige’s face, but she settles for kissing it off, finally able to do what she’s wanted to so many times before.

Paige’s hands roam Azzi’s body, touching everywhere she’d told herself she couldn’t. Azzi starts to plant sloppy kisses on Paige’s neck, but eventually the blonde feels the weight of the body on her start to press down more.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Az?” She pinches Azzi’s side.

Azzi barely lifts her head from where it’s buried in the crook of Paige’s neck. “Hmm?”

“You’re just gonna fall asleep, like right now? Really? Is kissing me that boring?” The older girl says exasperatedly.

“Yes,” Azzi deadpans. She lets the silence drag before breaking down into giggles. “We have so many nights to do this, and I’m exhausted.” She drops her head back onto Paige’s shoulder. “Talk to me tomorrow or something.”

Paige isn’t really mad, of course. She’s quite content to let her eyes fall closed as she holds Azzi in her arms.

—

Katie opens the door to wake them up the next morning. If she notices the way Azzi might be suspiciously holding Paige’s face or the way Paige’s hands might be suspiciously low on Azzi’s back, she doesn’t say anything. Closing the door, she smiles to herself. That can be a conversation for later. Right now, she’ll let Azzi enjoy something new for once.

—

Azzi is, in fact, not enjoying herself in the slightest. When she wakes up to an empty bed, she figures that Paige has somehow gotten up before her even though that has never happened in the entire history of their friendship and gone to help with breakfast. When she walks into a completely empty kitchen, her heart sinks. Where the fuck is Paige?

Wandering the house, Azzi is disappointed to find everyone’s door shut, including Paige’s. She doesn’t understand.

Azzi is getting tired of this weird cat-and-mouse game. She figured that kissing Paige would clear everything up and finally put a stop to it, but apparently she’d overestimated her best friend’s intellectual capacity or something, because why would she leave?

Breakfast is… awkward, to say the least. Paige is disturbingly polite and formal, visibly stiffening every time Azzi addresses her. Thankfully, no one comments on it, but Azzi is almost positive the tension is so thick that even her brothers have picked up on it.

When Tim suggests a ‘family day’, Azzi thinks that maybe she doesn’t give her parents enough credit. Now, her and Paige will have to interact, but at least they can avoid the awkwardness that would certainly come with being alone. She’s still super upset with her best friend, but she’s smart enough to know that anything she wants to say to the blonde right now wouldn’t help the situation.

—

Paige spends the day in her head. She’s really trying her best to act normal, but there's been an ever-growing knot in her stomach since she woke up in a panic at four in the morning.

After getting out of Azzi’s room as fast as she could without waking the younger girl, Paige had spent several hours in the bathroom as she hyperventilated. Then the tears had come, not stopping until she was crying so hard she was gagging over the toilet. Why did I say anything?

As far as Paige is concerned, Azzi’s response meant nothing good. Either she’d kissed Paige out of pity, or it meant so little to her that she hadn’t given it a second thought. Clearly, the dark-haired girl didn’t want to go further than kissing her, and she hadn’t even done that for very long (as evidenced by how quickly Azzi went to sleep).

The realization that Azzi must see this as nothing more than something best friends could do had haunted Paige as soon as it had dawned on her. It all made sense really, why Azzi had never addressed the flirting either. It had to be nothing more than a game to her. The worst part is that, in spite of everything, she still craves Azzi’s touch and comforting presence beside her.

Paige can’t even say anything. It’s not fair to tell her best friend how far from a game it is to her. And it especially isn’t fair to tell her that she accidentally broke Paige’s heart.

—

As the day goes on, Azzi calms down a bit. Paige is still acting distant, but it doesn’t feel like it’s coming from a place of malice. The younger girl figures she knows her best friend better than basically anyone in the world, and the only way she could describe Paige’s behaviour would be ‘scared’.

It’s not something she’s familiar with because Paige is hardly afraid of anything, but the haunted look dimming her normally bright eyes quenches the flames of anger in Azzi’s heart to give way to worry.

Her instinct in the morning had been to drag Paige somewhere to talk it out, but because of family time, she’s had to settle for small gestures to get the blonde out of her perturbed state.

They’d teamed up to play board games and Azzi had actually gotten a couple laughs out of Paige and a high five when they won. She’d also accepted Azzi’s offer to be teammates in 2 on 2, and Azzi had breathed a small sigh of relief when their chemistry on the court was still as good as ever. Her own concerns had eased a little when the blonde had brought ice cream bars out of the freezer after dinner before Azzi even asked for one.

All of this led to the ultimate test — going up to Azzi’s room for their nightly ritual. Paige initially claims to be too tired, but after some urging from Katie and Tim to ‘complete the day’, she relents and reluctantly makes her way upstairs. She sits stiffly at the edge of Azzi’s bed, still not sure what to say.

“You can pick the show today,” Azzi suggests, standing up and walking across the room to her closet. “I’m just gonna have a quick shower before we start it, okay?”

“Okay,” Paige replies automatically. When Azzi leaves the room, towel in hand, the blonde sits frozen in place for a few minutes before panic overtakes her again. While Azzi had been acting totally normal, Paige had barely been able to keep it together even with the buffers of the rest of the Fudds. So there’s no way she’s going to be able to get through several hours alone with Azzi.

Coming to a decision, Paige stands up abruptly and makes a beeline for her room. Finally safe behind her closed door, she can’t dispel the guilt for what she knows is a situation entirely of her own creation.

—

Azzi steps out of the shower with a clear head. She won’t push too hard, but Paige is not leaving her room tonight until they’re on the same page about the kiss and what it meant. These good intentions are dispelled the moment she steps into an empty room. Getting dressed as quickly as possible, the anger from earlier in the day comes flooding back despite her efforts to quell it.

She only makes it through four deep breaths before she’s flinging her door open and stomping walking down the hall. She expects Paige’s door to be locked, but can’t help trying the handle to confirm her suspicions. When it doesn’t budge, she insistently taps her knuckles against the wood.

“Paige Madison, I’m not doing this with you again, so help me God.” She doesn’t raise her voice, conscious that the whole house is in bed, but her tone tells Paige that she means business.

Azzi hears shuffling and a long sigh before the door opens slightly.

“What is it?” Paige stares at the floor.

“You know what,” Azzi says exasperatedly. “We clearly need to talk about this.”

“Do we? Talk about what?” Paige says evasively.

“Paige, you can’t even look at me.”

“Fine,” The blonde sighs dramatically again. “Can we at least not do this right here?” Azzi clearly isn’t letting this go, and Paige will take any extra time to get her thoughts together that she can get.

“We can do this wherever you want,” Azzi says flippantly. “But you have to promise you’ll actually talk to me, I can’t do this with you anymore.”

For the first time that night, Paige’s eyes meet Azzi’s. “I promise I’ll talk to you,” she says in a small voice. “Can we go to your room? It’s farther from everyone else.” She doesn’t want to explain the real reason: being in Azzi’s space brings her a fraction of the comfort that the girl it belongs to does.

“Then let’s go.” Throwing a pointed look in Paige’s direction, the dark-haired girl grabs her best friend’s hand and drags her down the hallway.

Paige immediately flops down onto Azzi’s bed. “I changed my mind, I don’t wanna do this anymore,” she covers her face with her hands. “Can we actually just go to sleep?”

Feeling a weight on her stomach, Paige uncovers her eyes to find Azzi straddling her. “That is the last thing we should be doing,” the younger girl argues, “and you promised me. We don’t break promises.”

Azzi grabs Paige’s hands, pinning them to the bed. Paige can’t control the flash of heat that shoots through her body. When did this get so fucking confusing?

“I’m keeping you here until we’ve figured this out. I know where my head is on this, but I need to know what you’re thinking,” her voice softens, “and I don’t like seeing you so stressed.”

Paige is once again kind of in awe of her best friend. She’s both impressed at how mature Azzi is being about this, and shocked that Azzi doesn’t seem to realize the effect that their current position is having on her.

“You should think about where you're sitting,” she pouts. Her breath catches as Azzi shifts slightly on top of her. “How am I even supposed to focus right now?”

That was bold. Azzi wasn’t doing anything on purpose, but this is the closest to an explanation that she’s gotten, and she’s willing to work any angle to fix this. It’s not like I don’t want this, too. She stares down at the older girl, a challenge in her eyes.

“Maybe I did think about it. Can you handle this, or do you need me to move?” Azzi doesn’t even sound remotely apologetic.

“I can handle it!” Paige answers a little too quickly, earning a smile from the other girl.

“Don’t panic, I’ll go first while you think,” Azzi decides. “I kissed you because I like you, obviously as more than a best friend. I have for a while, actually-”

Paige cuts her off. “How long?” She has to know.

“Years, P, but that’s not important,” Azzi sounds mildly annoyed again. Paige, wisely, lets her continue. “I’ve spent too much time trying to figure out if it’s normal for friends to act like we do, but I don’t want you to kiss me because you’re bored or anything like that. I need you to know that this actually means something to me, okay?”

Azzi leans in and Paige closes her eyes, only to feel the press of Azzi’s lips on her cheek. She opens her eyes as Azzi starts to kiss all over her face.

“Your turn,” Azzi whispers in her ear. Paige shivers as the younger girl’s lips brush her ear. “Then we can do whatever you want.”

Azzi lets go of Paige’s wrists to run her hands down the blonde’s arms. The drag of nails against pale skin isn’t especially suggestive, but goosebumps still cover Paige’s body as she considers what exactly Azzi means. She shakes her head to clear it, certain that she sees a simmering hunger in her friend’s eyes that wasn’t there a few minutes ago.

Paige swallows thickly. “I’m sorry for avoiding you,” the older girl begins sheepishly. “You were just confusing me and I didn’t want to overstep or scare you or mess up us, which I guess I did maybe but I never wanted that and I-”

She cuts herself off with a sharp intake of breath as Azzi begins to kiss her neck. It reminds her of the previous night, only this time Azzi doesn’t seem tired at all as she grinds her hips down in tandem with the rough kisses.

“Keep talking, baby,” the dark-haired girl stops to say. “You’re doing so well.”

Paige doesn’t know if it’s the praise or that name, but she feels heat bloom in her cheeks and travel down her body. The panic that had risen when she started talking subsides slightly.

Paige opens and closes her mouth, searching for the right words. “I like you a lot, too. I kissed you because I really wanted to… I want to all the time.” Feeling embarrassed, she looks away. “I think I always want too much with you. You mean everything to me, honestly.”

Maybe it wouldn’t make sense to everyone, but Azzi understands and it’s all she needs to hear. Paige, already having turned her head as far into the pillow as she can, doesn’t notice her best friend breathe a slight sigh of relief.

“Mmm,” Azzi nips playfully at Paige’s ear, “and what do you want right now?”

Paige glances down at the way their bodies are pressed together before she looks up at Azzi. They lock eyes, and there is only one word that encompasses everything she’s feeling. “You,” she breathes.

And finally, Azzi doesn’t press for more as she allows their lips to meet again. They’re both a little more sure than last time, and they fall into a comfortable rhythm with Paige’s hands on Azzi’s waist as the younger girl tugs insistently on her shirt.

In fact, there’s not much talking at all as they shed the rest of their clothes, then only the occasional whispered curse slipping from Paige’s lips as Azzi’s fingers and mouth finish what she started the previous night.

When they kiss again and Paige tastes herself on her best friend’s lips, it’s better than anything she’s ever dreamed up. And if Paige is a little nervous to return the favour, Azzi pretends not to notice as she gently guides the blonde’s hand between her legs, kissing her all the while.

—

Azzi is relieved to not wake up alone, realizing with a start that she’s wearing significantly less clothing than would be appropriate if anyone were to come in. Her frantic scrambling wakes Paige, who looks a little disoriented.

The blonde rubs the sleep from her eyes. “Hi,” she says softly, a content smile settling on her face.

The sound of her voice calms Azzi down. “Hi,” she responds, unable to keep a cautious undertone out of her voice.

Paige doesn’t register it as she’s too busy admiring the dark-haired girl. “You’re so pretty in the morning,” Her brow furrows. “And at night, and always, but especially right now.” She reaches for Azzi and her eyes slide closed.

“Go back to sleep, you sound stupid,” Azzi giggles. Locked once more in her best friend’s embrace, she can’t suppress her giddiness at how easily the words had flowed from Paige’s lips.

When they do finally get up (due to the incessant rattling of Azzi’s locked door), there’s a certain shyness as Azzi helps Paige put her clothes back on, but none of the awkward tension that had followed their first kiss. They talk in whispers until Azzi’s eyes drift to Paige’s neck and shocked laughter shatters the quiet.

“Everyone is so gonna know,” Paige panics as she examines the marks that have already begun to turn purple. “Your dad is gonna kill me or something!”

“You didn’t do anything, or at least it doesn’t look like it,” Azzi replies with a hint of pride. “It’s not a big deal, just don’t draw attention to them and no one will notice.”

—

Seeing Paige sit down to breakfast in a hoodie with her hair down (both things she’s done only a handful of times during her stay, and never together), Katie has no doubt that what she saw the previous day was, in fact, exactly what it looked like. She shoots Tim a look that says ‘I told you so’, and they both struggle to hide their smiles.

“Why all the layers? Are you getting sick, honey?” Katie bumps Paige’s shoulder as the blonde stands up to get a drink.

“Nah, I’m fine,” Paige mumbles as she looks at the floor. The blush that instantly colours her face has Tim choking on his coffee with suppressed laughter.

Azzi isn’t sure how her parents figured it out, but their playful jabs at Paige’s choice of attire don’t scare the younger girl as much as she thought they would. They know, and it’s okay. At least her brothers still seem to be completely clueless.

Paige, on the other hand, looks petrified as she struggles to explain to a still chuckling Tim why she doesn’t want to go swimming on this particular day. Even after shooting her best friend a pleading look, the only help she gets from Azzi is a reassuring squeeze of her hand under the table.

It’s a small gesture, all things considered, but it speaks to how far they’ve come that Azzi doesn’t think twice about it, and Paige doesn’t have any lingering urge to pull away.

Maybe they really will be fine.

[iwillbringyouruin]

Visions Magazine with Tobias Forge on the idea behind Rite Here Rite Now, the importance of soundtracks in general and how he distinguishes between himself and his characters (Visions Magazine issue nr. 377, 08/2024)

Full translation of the included interview by me below the cut - buckle up, this is a long post! There are no spoilers for RHRN in this.

Markus Hockenbrink: Tobias, have you ever watched the movie Metallica: Though The Never?

Tobias Forge: Yes, once, when it had just come out. The topic Metallica came up when we were taking care of the funding for [RHRN]. Every larger production company – and I have to emphasise here that this was before Taylor Swift’s The Eras Tour and her extremely successful movie about it – voiced a lot of concern back then whether anybody would still be interested in concert movies. I had to explain time and again that my movie wouldn’t be a typical concert movie, to which I was asked several times: “Oh, so something like Through The Never?” I had to deny that again. We tell a story in our movie most of our fans are already familiar with. So it’s not an entirely new concept, which is already the first distinction from Through The Never. If you only consider that there is a concert part and a feature film part, then those two movies are probably similar. But that also applies to La La Land.

M. Hockenbrink: You describe your movie as a combination of Kiss’ Alive II, Ralph Bakshi cartoons and silent film horror. Is that a kind of childhood dream that comes true there?

T. Forge: Definitely. For as long as I’ve been interested in music, I’ve also been interested in film and television. Working in film could have also been a career option for me, but I always got the rather annoying impression that one would have to go to film school to really find a place in that field. School was never my strong suit, I see myself more as a autodidact in that regard. That I had the opportunity to work on/contribute to my own movie as a sorcerer’s apprentice of sorts is a real privilege. That is a dream come true but it is also something I can picture more of in the future. Next time maybe without the band.

M. Hockenbrink: Can you remember a specific moment in your life when you realised that you were especially drawn to topics that are slightly morbid and unsettling?

T. Forge: I think that due to my family I came in contact with vastly different kinds of pop culture from a very young age. In more traditional families with more conservative parents and siblings of similar ages, you only really start with your respective journey to find yourself in your teens. Then there are often restrictions that are meant to distract from those darker influences. My parents on the other hand are very liberal and my brother was 13 years older than me. There were never limits or censorship for me. My childhood didn’t go by without rules entirely, but I was always allowed to watch or listen to what my brother was also watching or listening to. That way I was exposed to all kinds of teenage culture from the beginning. Sure, I also liked Pippi Longstocking and He-Man. But that was always combined with the French arthouse films my mother liked to watch or the horror flicks my brother was into. I can’t recall a particularly striking horror film experience, but I still remember the first time it dawned on me that movies don’t just exist, they’re made.

M. Hockenbrink: How do you mean?

T. Forge: My father worked as a documentary maker in television. His job was to connect the video track and the sound track in a fitting way for different film production. I saw Jaws on television with him as a small child. It’s important to note that my father is not somebody who can just quietly enjoy films but somebody who likes to butt in. Thanks to him I already had a kind of epiphany during the introduction. He said: “Look closely! There is nothing to see in this underwater scenery except the algae. Technically completely harmless. But it only takes the ominous music to turn the whole scene into pure horror already!” And I thought: Wow! That’s true! Later in the movie you only have to hear that music and it immediately puts you on edge, even when there’s nobody in the water right now. They don’t even have to show the shark anymore. I found it fascinating that the [viewer’s] senses/perception could be manipulated like that. Ever since, I’ve been viewing films with different eyes. I can still allow myself to dive into the story but at the same time I see the practical aspect to film-making.

M. Hockenbrink: I had a similar feeling during the introduction of Shining: technically a cozy road trip in the mountains, but a pure nightmare with the music.

T. Forge: I’m with you on that. Shining is one of the best movies of all time. And funnily enough, only the intro sequence was actually shot in nature. All the other scenes, even if they were outside, were filmed in the studio. Exactly that kind of craftsmanship is what I find inspiring.

M. Hockenbrink: With that in mind, what makes a good soundtrack in your opinion?

T. Forge: We already talked about Jaws, but I can think of Eyes Wide Shut as another example. There is that short piano theme that comes up again and again, incredibly effective. A good soundtrack needs to deliver something that you don’t have to be able to see to perceive its existence. Sure, there are no monsters in Eyes Wide Shut, aside from the main character’s jealousy as an internal monster maybe. But just like the music in Jaws, the theme from Eyes Wide Shut symbolises something that doesn’t have to be shown. The sound is enough. That is also a commonly used effect in adventure and love movies. You just put in a short vignette to describe the love between two characters. In Star Wars, Luke Skywalker also has his own theme, that is used every time when things get emotional and you’re supposed to feel that hope. You’ve got to pay attention to that. Jason Voorhees from Friday the 13th also has a personal theme to recognise him by. Every time you hear it you immediately know “Oh shit, he’s nearby!”

M. Hockenbrink: What about soundtracks that are made up of songs?

T. Forge: With that, I’m especially thinking of Silence of the Lambs. In the scene where Buffalo Bill dresses up as a woman and dances around his basement, a song called Goodbye Horses by Q Lazzarus is playing. I have no idea how the artist felt about that since the song is now so irrevocably connected to that awful scene, that you can’t listen to it anymore without thinking of it.

M. Hockenbrink: Do you feel like soundtrack work is more appreciated now than it used to be?

T. Forge: I think that it’s definitely gained importance over the last 40 years. The right song on the right soundtrack can be incredibly powerful. Just think of Stranger Things. Obviously, Metallica and Kate Bush already had successful careers before, but what happened with Master of Puppets and Running Up That Hill following the series was something else entirely. The songs were associated so strongly with the narrative, that way more people listened to them than before. Of course I’m a strong advocate for live music but I also realised that nothing is as strong as the connection of visuals and music. That is still the most powerful way to appeal to a deeper emotion through the association.

M. Hockenbrink: More or less a shortcut to the subconscious.

T. Forge: Exactly. But you can’t be cynical about that either. If I was an A&R person at a big label, I would probably also say: “You just have to find a spot for one of your songs on a popular soundtrack, then you’ll have made it!” That’s really how it is. But when you view it from an artistic perspective, when you want to reach people a certain way or bring across a certain message or a certain feeling, the combination of visuals and sound can’t be topped.

M. Hockenbrink: It especially lends itself to an immersive experience, as seems to be in the foreground of [RHRN]. An album by Black Sabbath or Iron Maiden ends at some point, then you’re gone from that metal world again. With Ghost, however, you get the feeling that the illusion just keeps on going, across several media. Did you plan the Ghost mythology like this from the start?

T. Forge: In part. When I started with the band, I only wanted to make a standalone album. The concept was supposed to be interesting and practical, but I wasn’t planning for Ghost to be a huge thing. The style I pictured has its own limits in my opinion. The band was supposed to function a certain way and appeal to a certain target audience. The concert was supposed to be a theatrical performance in the literal sense. Ghost were never supposed to perform in a normal rock club nor go on tour. I wanted more of a kind of Vaudeville show in a proper plushy theatre. The band was supposed to be as anonymous as the actors that stand on stage and play, say, Faust. The idea behind this was: Those who don’t know who the people are on stage are more ready to follow the story. Then we would perform three days back-to-back in select cities. Berlin, Amsterdam, London. Just like Diamanda Galás who can more likely be found at a culture festival than in a rock shack. But things turned out differently in the end, and I had to kiss my original ideas goodbye again, so to speak.

M. Hockenbrink: Why?

T. Forge: After the success of our debut album, it became clear to me that more conventional concerts were going to be demanded of us and that I could only really say yes or no. This problem became worse after our shift to a bigger label. It became clear that my vision of telling stories clashed with the live sector and requirements for success more and more. At a certain point anonymity doesn’t work anymore and I had to make peace with that in the end.  I originally didn’t even want to do interviews but that’s obviously tricky when you want to sell records. The question that I constantly ask myself since is how I can do those things best in the Ghost way without denying the original Vaudeville spirit.

M. Hockenbrink: In his autobiography Golf Monster, Alice Cooper talks about himself in third person a lot when he is talking about his character. Are you feeling similarly at this point?

T. Forge: At least I can definitely see where he’s coming from. There is a difference between the person Vincent Furnier and the character Alice Cooper. I believe that he was on the verge of completely transforming into Alice Cooper at one point – to the point where one has to decide where they want to live or die. In the end he decided to remain Vincent Furnier and only become Alice Cooper for work, on stage. So far I’ve been fortunate to combine the two pretty well, but had I started Ghost ten years earlier in my life, it would have probably affected me similarly to how Alice Cooper did with Vincent Furnier in his time. But with my humble experience as an actor I have to say: every character you play becomes a part of you to a certain extent. You have to find certain qualities – good or bad – within yourself to bring such a character to life. I think that most actors only play one or two roles throughout their life that they then end up being known for. The different characters that I’ve portrayed on stage are not only very similar but actually also a part of me. Fortunately a part of me that I don’t want to deal with all day long.

M. Hockenbrink: Too cynical and antisocial?

T. Forge: Cardinal Copia or Cardi, as I like to call him, is not an all-around cool person, but that makes him so fun to play for me. He is half Freddie Mercury and half Jacques Clouseau. Kind of clumsy, kind of silly, kind of stupid. The kind of guy who trips over his own feet but catches himself elegantly. That’s also me in a way, but not just. And I think that’s easier to embody than a daredevil hero character who can rival anyone and gets all the ladies. When somebody plays only those characters their whole life, it will probably really go to their head. Especially when there are drugs involved on top of that.

M. Hockenbrink: With all that fondness of doom that can be found with Ghost, that universe also has something humorous about it, benign even. It that an intentionally included contradiction?

T. Forge: Yes, and it is also very important to me that it comes across like that. For me that also has something to do with the evolution of metal. Originally it was mostly a phenomenon connected to the youth, nowadays the musicians and their fans are close to retiring. That brings a certain maturity. Even the Norwegian black metal musicians who were super pissed and extreme 30 years ago and were only made of hate and aggression are well-adjusted people now. Bearded fathers and grandfathers with a pleasant view on life that make others laugh. I see a certain duality there. Everything that has something to do with goth, with metal, with horror, appears dark, dismal and hostile at first. But in reality, that can all be extremely life-affirming and a source of great joy for many people. So pretty much the opposite.

M. Hockenbrink: Speaking of horror: could you imagine making a real feature film some day?

T. Forge: Yes, I would love that. I’m well aware that it’s not going to be easy to make what I’m picturing a reality, just because I’ve done directing once with [RHRN] now. The creative liberty I got to enjoy there also was due to the fact that I funded the movie myself. So nobody was meddling with it. That is likely completely different when you work on behalf of a big studio, because we are talking about different sums here. If I only go off my dreams, I would name two points of reference. One is Shining, the other Bram Stoker’s Dracula by Francis Ford Coppola. I would like to make a movie that’s only shot in a studio, with elaborate sets, matte painting and all that. No outside shots, no special effects, no green screen. And no actors who only gets to see what they were actually doing after the fact. Proper old-school. The way movies are actually meant to look.

[jazeswhbhaven]

The domestic AU from Raphael gives me fluffy feelings like omg thats kinda nice if he was actually that way- *mc cries in canon*

Anyway how about the domestic au with the two seraph(separate) too? Though i also would want to see my dear lovely andrealphus again♡♡

Thank you for waiting anon, I as a Rara fan love writing domestic fluff stuff about him despite his attitude pretty much being the opposite of fluff. But he's learning. This feeling is new.

Now in a perfect world.....his Seraphim brethren would also behave even though we know they wouldn't...but that's what AU's are for and I'm happy to write them.

Domestic!Gabriel

✝Morning routine starts with prayer, hymns, planning out battles, recouping afterward, more prayer, worship, and study of the "commandments"

✝He enjoys a nice glass of wine with you for dinner each time

✝Kisses on the cheeks are permitted, and he wants you to walk close to him whenever you're both strolling about in Heaven

✝No one is allowed to gaze upon you without a good reason, Gabriel would assume they are thining "unholy thoughts" of trying to take you away from him

✝He lets you plan some of the battles on your own, (even if you are trying to low key sabotage them because you don't want the devils to get hurt)

✝Once you found out he loves compliments and praise for what he does, you've pinpointed that words of affirmation and quality time are his love languages

✝When it comes to arguments and fights he gets really emotional and sometimes tongue tied. You can only soothe him if suggest to pray together.

✝You sleep in separate beds, but in the same room. There is one night though where he wants the bed pushed together. He's..."cold" (which oddly, he always cold to the touch...)

✝Everytime you joke about getting a kiss on the lips, he side eyes you and prays to himself about his "partner's dirty mind" (though secretly he really wants to kiss you too lol)

Domestic!Michael

✝He doesn't care if you sleep in the same bed, just stay on your side of it and don't hog the blankets (he ends up cuddling with you anyway)

✝He's killed lower angels before because they accidentally bumped into you or even met eyes with you

✝Likes to vent to you about his older brother Lucifer and how he misses him, he appreciates you for listening

✝The wing on the back of his head is sensitive, but he likes it when you pet him right at the base, lightly scratching

✝He lets you braid his hair from time to time, and even wash it!

✝Prayer times are always before or after Gabriel is done, he apparently doesn't like to be doing it at the same time as him because Gabriel is "loud and annoying"

✝When it comes to battles, he likes to go solo and not include you. He says it's because you'd be "in the way" but it's mostly because he's afraid they might capture you

✝He cries easily, mostly because he thinks about how technically, he shouldn't have feelings for you, but if God created someone like you and you love him...maybe it's not so bad after all?

✝His love language is acts of service, with occasional words of affirmation

✝Morning routine is, wake up, yell at Gabriel for being loud, tell Raphael he should stop eating everything and threaten him, and then spending time with you as you walk through Heaven. (You notice that he doesn't seem to pray as much but mostly just try to figure out how to get his brother back to Heaven)

[sycamorelibrary754]

The Doting Tree

Summary: During your visit to your grandmother at her assisted living community, you learn that Bucky has been regularly volunteering there as a part of his therapy sessions with Dr. Raynor.

Pairings: Bucky x Platonic reader

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: None

A/N: Who doesn't want to see Bucky healing?

"Ms. Y/L/N, Mr. Stark requests your presence in his lab," Friday announced, pulling you out of your intense focus.

"Can it wait, FRIDAY? I'm swamped with overdue mission reports here," you replied, shuffling through the stack of papers on your desk.

“Mr. Stark says you have a phone call,” FRIDAY responded.

“A phone call?” you asked, puzzled, picking up your phone. “No, I don't.”

“In his lab, Ms. Y/L/N,” FRIDAY said.

"Okay,” you said as you rubbed your tired eyes. “Tell him I'm on my way.”

Walking into Tony's lab, you found the genius hunched over his desk, tinkering with one of his holographic interfaces. His phone was propped between his ear and shoulder.

“Really? I had no idea,” Tony said with a surprised look. “Y/N is so at ease on the motorcycle you would never know she didn't learn to ride a two-wheeler until she was nine.”

Your eyes widened. "Oh my God. Who are you talking to?" 

"One moment, ma'am," Tony said before placing the phone against his chest.

"It’s your grandmother," Tony said. "She called the front desk trying to reach you, and they patched her through to me." 

"What? Why didn't they call me?" you said, reaching for the phone as Tony pulled it away. 

"Because this is way more fun," Tony smirked. 

"Gimme the phone!" You snapped.

Tony placed a hand on your forehead to hold you at arm's length like an annoying older brother while putting the phone back to his ear.

"Y/G/N, your granddaughter just walked in. So, I’m going to pass you over to her," Tony said. "No, don't be silly. It's no problem. I enjoyed talking with you, too. Feel free to call back anytime. My pleasure, ma'am. Bye-bye."

You sighed as the billionaire finally handed over his phone, walking back toward the pane-glass windows for some privacy.

"Hi, Grandma," you chirped.

"Hello, dear, so good to hear your voice," your grandmother said.

"How did you end up on the phone with Mr. Stark?" you asked.

"I accidentally deleted your cell phone number, but your mom has your workplace down on this list she made, so I called information and then was connected to your lovely boss," your grandma explained.

"Ah, I see. Well, he’s not technically my boss, more like an annoying man-child who pays for everything," Smirking back at Tony and sticking your tongue out.

Your grandma asked, 'What is this I hear about you riding a motorcycle?”

"Oh, no need to worry. I’m a professional, and it's part of my job," you reassured her.

"Still," your grandma began. "I hope you're wearing a helmet."

"Always, Grandma, don't worry,” you fibbed. “So, how are you?” Doing your best to shift the conversation away from your dangerous life as an Avenger.

"I’m good, sweetheart. I'm just wondering when you're going to visit me. It's been a while since I’ve seen you,” your grandma asked. 

Your heart broke at her words. Your grandma lives in an assisted living community near the compound called The Doting Tree. You did your best to see her often, but the unpredictable nature of your work made regular visits difficult.

“I know; I’m sorry. Things have been hectic lately, and I just got home from a work trip a few days ago. How about I stop by tomorrow around noon?" you asked.

“That would be great," she exclaimed. "See you then!"

"Okay, bye," you said, hanging up Tony’s phone.

You gave Tony his phone back, and he handed you a hundred-dollar bill in exchange.

“What's this for?” you asked.

“I may be an annoying man-child, but even I know you treat Grandma like a queen,” Tony quipped with a wink.

*^~^*

The following day, you joined the rest of the team for breakfast. Wanda had made her special chocolate chip pancakes and fresh orange juice for everyone. You sat beside Bucky and began squeezing Maple syrup over your pancakes. 

Pepper set a plate in front of Morgan and sat beside Tony. "So, what's everyone got lined up for today?"

"Nat and I are getting the recruits up to speed," Steve replied, digging into his pancakes.

“That sounds interesting,” Pepper said.

"It would be interesting if they paid attention this time," Nat remarked, downing the last of her orange juice.

"I always paid attention," you declared confidently.

"Sure, Y/N, you ran those extra laps after training at Nat’s request just for fun," Maria teased.

"Yelena and I are off to an advanced obedience class with Lucky and Fanny," Kate said. "This week, it's all about the army crawling!"

"By the end of the training, they'll be more mission-ready than your little recruits, Natasha," Yelena teased as she cut into her pancakes.

Nat leaned over and flicked her sister's arm.

"Ow, son of a—"

"Language!" Steve interjected.

Yelena was about to retort, but then she caught Morgan's smile and shut her mouth.

"I’m supposed to meet with Secretary Ross, but I'd much rather catch the new Godzilla vs. Kong movie. Anyone up for it?" Rhodes suggested.

"I'm in!" Sam exclaimed. "How about you, Buck?"

"Can't make it; I'm tied up," Bucky replied, sipping his orange juice.

“Come on, man, how often do we blend in with the crowd?" Sam quipped.

"I can't, Sam," Bucky replied with a shrug.

"Your loss," Sam retorted. "What about you, Y/N?"

"I'd love to, but I promised my grandma a visit," you replied.

"That's thoughtful of you, Y/N," Wanda chimed in.

"Oh, that reminds me, guess who didn't learn to ride a bike until they were nine?" Tony butted in enthusiastically.

You rolled your eyes. “And that's my cue to leave," you said, getting up. "Catch you all later.”

*^~^*

You made great use of Tony's money by treating your grandma to a lovely bouquet of roses and a box of her favorite chocolates. When you arrived at The Doting Tree, the scent of Fabuloso greeted you, mixing with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee from the communal area. Passing through the lobby, you exchanged a warm smile and a wave with Joan, the friendly receptionist stationed behind the oak desk.

You knocked eagerly on the door of room 508, and the sound of your grandmother's footsteps grew louder before she swung open the door.

"Y/N!" she exclaimed.

"Hey, grandma," you greeted her with a smile. "These are for you," you said, handing her the roses and chocolates.

"Oh, you didn't have to, sweetheart," she replied, taking her gifts.

You hugged her and were instantly transported back to his childhood. Her warm embrace was a comfort you didn't know you were missing.

"Please, come on in, Y/N," she said as she broke the hug.

As your grandma whipped up a delightful batch of creamy, rich hot chocolate, the cozy aroma filled the room, enveloping you in warmth and comfort. You lost track of time, immersed in lively conversations and shared memories as you leisurely walked down memory lane. She asked about your work, and you carefully selected the most positive stories to share: the most recent Stark Gala and the Avengers community outreach efforts. You wouldn't dream of telling her about the near miss on your last mission when Nat's impressive scissor-leg neck grab saved you from a potentially fatal situation.

I can't believe how quickly time has flown by," your grandma exclaimed, glancing at the clock. "Movie night starts downstairs in fifteen minutes."

"Oh, in that case, I'll leave you to get ready," you replied, getting up.

"Nonsense," she insisted. "I'd love for you to join me. Tonight is Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, a classic from the Golden Age of Hollywood."

You quickly checked your phone and were relieved to see no missed calls or texts from Fury, Maria, or Steve.

"Great, I've never seen it, and I’m free for the rest of the day," you said.

"Wonderful, let’s go," your grandma replied.

*^~^*

When you and your grandmother arrived in the small community theater, the Doting Tree staff handed out popcorn and queued up the movie. You followed your grandma to two empty seats near the end of the row. 

Hi, Y/G/N, I was hoping to see you here tonight," the brunette woman with half glasses beside her confessed.

"I wouldn't have missed this for anything. You know Jimmy Stewart is my favorite!" your grandma proclaimed. "Oh, Betty, this is my granddaughter Y/N, she's one of those Avengers!" she proudly introduced.

You felt slightly embarrassed by the attention but extended your hand to Betty. "Hi, Betty. It's great to meet you."

"It's lovely to meet you, dear. Y/G/N has told me so much about you!" Betty said.

"All good, I hope?" you joked.

"Of course. I don't know how you all do it, but thank you for everything you've done."

"It's my honor, ma'am,” you said.

"Excuse me?" a man in a sweater vest behind you said, catching your attention. "I couldn't help but overhear. You mentioned you're one of the Avengers?" 

"That's right," you replied.

"Do you happen to know James? He's one of our volunteers. My buddy Walter swears he's an Avenger."

"James?" you asked, puzzled. "We don't have anyone named—"

"Alright, folks," a familiar voice interrupted.

"Bucky," you whispered to yourself in surprise.

Your friend stood at the front of the room, looking effortlessly stylish in a casual navy crew neck shirt, perfectly fitted jeans, and trendy sneakers. His beaming smile transformed his entire appearance, making him almost unrecognizable.

"Tonight's movie is one of my favorites, Mr. Smith Goes to Washington," Bucky announced, clapping his hands together. "Jimmy Stewart was one of my favorite actors when I was a kid."

"Not to mention Jean Arthur!" someone shouted from the back row, and the room erupted in laughter.

“Alright, Stacy, can you turn off the lights, please?” Bucky asked one of the staff members.

As the idealistic young Jefferson Smith was appointed to the United States Senate, your attention continually drifted to Bucky. You observed as he quietly passed a box of Nestle crunch bites down the row to one of the residents and whispered something to the woman beside him, who laughed in response.

*^~^*

When the credits rolled, and the lights came on in the theater, you lingered at the back of the room while your grandmother caught up with her friends. Perhaps it was the spy-like instincts that Natasha had instilled in you, but you couldn’t take your eyes off him. You were captivated by the transformation in his demeanor. The man who once seemed only to wear a scowl now appeared happier than you had ever seen him.

You walked over slowly as he was engrossed in conversation with a man you recognized as Richard Swanson. According to Joan, he was one of The Doting Tree’s oldest residents in time and age. Tall and slender, with a confident posture that hinted at a lifetime of discipline and care, he still boasted a thick mane of hair that belied his age. The strands, once a rich chestnut, now shimmered with a distinguished silver hue, the only overt sign of the passing years.

"What unit were you in, Barnes?" Mr. Swanson asked.

"107th Infantry Regiment, sir," Bucky replied.

"No kidding?” said Mr. Swanson. “I was in the 103rd."

"I remember that regiment," Bucky said, snapping his fingers. "You were guarding the Trisssana Bridge, right?"

"That's right," Mr. Swanson replied. “My cousin was in the 107th Regiment. Maybe you knew him? Tim Dugan.”

"Wow," Bucky sighed, his voice trailing off as he paused to reflect. "Tim Dugan. I haven't heard that name in almost 80 years," Bucky said, his eyes distant with memories. "I did know him. He was a good man," Bucky reminisced, a hint of wistfulness in his voice.

He was indeed," Mr. Swanson sighed, his tired eyes reflecting the long day he had endured. The elderly gentleman checked his antique pocket watch. "I've got to get going. It's almost past my bedtime," he chuckled softly as he patted Bucky on the shoulder with a sense of fondness. "See you next time, Barnes."

"See you, Mr. Swanson," Buck called out, his voice carrying a tinge of warmth and respect.

"Bucky?" you said softly, careful not to startle him as you approached.

He turned at the sound of your voice, his eyes meeting yours with surprise. "Y/N? What are you doing here? I thought you were visiting your grandmother today?"

"I am; she lives here," you explained, a gentle smile gracing your lips.

"What are you doing here?" you asked, your curiosity piqued.

Bucky took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, the weight of his thoughts evident in the furrow of his brow. "Alright, look,” running his hand through his hair nervously. “Dr. Raynor thought it would be good for me to volunteer here. Spend some time with people from my generation," he said. "I resisted at first, but now..." he paused, looking around at the bustling activity of the assisted living community. "It's nice.”

"That's awesome, Buck. It's clear that the residents appreciate having you around, but why didn't you mention it to us?" You inquired.

"I just didn't want to deal with the inevitable jokes and questions from everyone," he explained.

"Oh, come on, Bucky. It wouldn't have been that bad. They would have been supportive," you reassured.

"After you left, Tony told the bike story and bought you a kid’s bicycle as a joke," Bucky deadpanned.

"Jackass," you remarked dryly.

"See," Bucky declared.

"But a supportive jackass, Buck. We all give each other shit, but at the end of the day, we're a family," you insisted. "Everyone would get it."

"Maybe," he mused. "When I'm here, I'm not an Avenger, The Winter Soldier, The White Wolf. Hell, I’m not even Bucky."

"I've noticed that, James," you said with a smirk.

Before he could respond, your grandma and her friend Betty strolled over to where you were standing.

“James, I just had to tell you how much I enjoyed tonight's movie. You have impeccable taste,” Betty said, touching his metal arm.

“Thanks a lot,” Bucky replied.

“Will you join us for our knitting class next week?” she asked eagerly.

“Work can be unpredictable, but I'm planning on it,” he responded.

“Wonderful!” Betty exclaimed. “I've been knitting a scarf for you, honey.”

Bucky blushed. “Oh, thank you. I can't wait to see it.”

"I see you’ve met James, Y/N,” your grandma said. “We’ve so enjoyed having him here the last few months.”

“Oh,” you said, looking between Bucky and your grandmother. “Yeah, I just had to come up and tell him how much I loved the movie, too.”

“Right,” Bucky said. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

“Well, I’m feeling a bit tuckered out, Y/N,” your grandmother said. I think I'll call it a night.”

“Okay,” you said. “I'll walk you back to your room.”

“Okay, goodnight, James,” your grandmother said.

“Goodnight, Y/G/N,” Bucky replied.

You turned back toward him before following your grandma out of the room and whispered, “Don’t leave. I'll be down in a few minutes.”

Bucky nodded in agreement.

*^~^*

As you stepped off the elevator and entered the lobby, the warm glow of the chandeliers illuminated the spacious communal room. Your eyes scanned the area, searching for Bucky. After a moment, you spotted him sitting on the plush sofa, engrossed in a copy of Lord of the Rings, which he had plucked from the nearby shelf.

Sitting beside him, you couldn't help but ask, "So, what do people think James does for a living?"

With a half-smile, he replied, "Well, those who don't know who I am think I’m a mechanic at that garage on Wilshire."

The image of Bucky as a mechanic made you chuckle, and you leaned in to hear more.

"The ones who do, like Mr. Swanson, don't give a damn about who I am or who I‘ve been," he continued, returning the book to the shelf. "All they care about is living each day to the fullest."

As you silently nodded, you reflected on his words, feeling the weight of the conversation settle in. "I understand, Buck," you said, patting his thigh. "I'm glad you're finding fulfillment here, and you can trust me to keep this between us."

"Thank you," he sighed, a sense of relief in his voice.

"Let’s go home," Bucky said, a hint of determination in his tone.

As you both said goodbye to Joan in the lobby, you stepped out into the refreshing early evening breeze.

"Alright, see you at home," you said, heading towards the bus stop.

"You took the bus here?" Bucky inquired.

"Yeah, just didn't feel like driving today," you replied.

“Want a ride? I've got Nat's motorcycle," he offered, nodding towards the bike.

You arched an eyebrow, "Does she know you have it?" You knew Natasha didn't just lend her bike to anyone. You had learned that the hard way during one of your early missions together.

"Yep, she allows me to borrow the motorcycle in exchange for helping with recruit training," Bucky explained as he slipped on his leather jacket.

"Alright, I'll take your word for it," you agreed.

As you were getting ready to hop on the back of the motorcycle, you spotted the extra helmet hanging on the back. 

“Really?” Bucky quipped. “You never wear a helmet out in the field.”

“I know,” glancing back at The Doting Tree, “I just want to keep a promise to my grandmother,” you said with a smirk.

“Good call,” he replied with a grin.

You fastened the helmet and hopped on the back of the bike, wrapping your arms around Bucky’s waist. With a twist of the throttle, the bike roared to life as Bucky revved up the engine. Together, you both zoomed out of the parking lot, heading back toward the compound with a newfound sense of camaraderie and understanding.

[averagewriter-inthedark]

The Ship Of Dreams 🚢 | Twilight Imagine

Set during the events between New Moon and Eclipse & after Breading Dawn Part 2

Twilight Masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Cullen!reader (female), Bella Swan-Cullen (platonic), Edward Cullen (adoptive ‘twin’ brother), the Cullen family (platonic/adoptive family), family OC!s, Alex Mason!oc (past romance)

Content Warnings: major angst, smoking, details of historical event disaster, profanity, descriptions of stalking and death | female!reader (she/her) | wc: 9.4k

Requested 📨 yes/no (rules for requests)

Premise: Bella Swan always wondered what the story was of her vampire boyfriend’s so called ‘twin’ sister. Quiet and reserved, she had a mysterious aura to her, and what many would describe as a lady lost in time. Though she appeared no older than the age of 17, Y/n Cullen had eyes that saw a multitude of lives. Though in April 2006, the anniversary of a fateful night, finally reveals the truth behind the ‘youngest’ Cullen’s history with the Ship of Dreams.

Note: I had this Twilight x Titanic work in the making for two years 💀😭 back when I visited the Titanic Museum in 2023! I had done the TGM x Titanic AU and immediately started working on this but then, as usual, I got hyperfixated on other things and pushed this to the back burner...but anyway hope y'all like this! ❤️ also I cried writing the hospital scene. I mean I literally had to pause and gather myself at times while writing it because I was making myself so sad.

———————————

April 2006

In the year since becoming involved with Edward Cullen and learning of the secret he and his family share, Bella had yet to uncover the story of his ‘twin’ by name and nature, Y/n.

Calling them twins was a far reach. Sure they had the same golden eyes and inhumanly beautiful physique, but that was it. Unlike Rosalie and Jasper who were blonde and could easily pass as twin siblings, Y/n and Edward appeared nothing alike save for the tiny detail they shared the same birthday of June 20th and were both turned at the age of 17. But whereas Edward was born in the year 1901, Y/n’s was 1895–the same year Esme was born. 

Bella only learned this by doing the math, after Edward let it slip Y/n was technically six years older than him. 

Like Alice and Jasper, Y/n had not been turned by Carlisle but, to Bella’s surprise, was the first to join his coven. Well before Edward came into the picture. When asked about this, following Edward’s explanation of Carlisle’s origin to her the night she visited his home for the first time, Edward plainly stated with a look she couldn’t decipher, “You’d have to ask her, it’s not my story to tell.”

But Bella never could bring herself to ask. Y/n’s exterior was as cold as Rosalie’s. Guarded and reserved. Quiet to the point she hardly added input during times the Cullen’s faced conflict. Always glued to a corner, hidden from the shadows. One glare was enough to send goosebumps along Bella’s arm. Understanding it’d be better to either not know Y/n’s story all together or silently hope one of the Cullen’s would tell her. Since it was obvious the vampire was going to keep her secrets to herself. 

Well….she was hoping to. 

“We can’t watch it here,” Edward’s voice was serious. More serious than ever, causing confusion to etch Bella’s face, taking the DVD case from Edward with a frown. It was a movie she’d seen a handful of times, a classic and one she thoroughly enjoyed whenever it played on TV. The only reason she was suggesting it now for their weekly movie night was for an assignment her history teacher gave on the historical event it was based on considering the upcoming anniversary was the following week.

“Don’t tell me you don’t have a DVD player.”

“I do,” he rolls his eyes, yet still carries the serious strain of his tone “but we can’t watch that here. We’ll go to your place.”

Her frown deepened, a little annoyed with the vampire changing their plans considering she drove all the way out to his. “I don’t understand, Edward….why is it so much of a big deal to watch Titanic here.” 

Lightening fast, Edward held a hand up, freezing the two in their places while Bella watched him turn his head to face the open doorway. Tilting it slightly as though to strain his hearing. When it appeared whatever coast was clear, he let out a breath of relief before facing her again, noting her visible confusion. “I’ll explain everything once we get to your house. I promise just…” he pleads with his eyes, gently taking the DVD once again to tap at the title Titanic with his finger, “don’t mention this when we’re here or in front of my family.”

The entire drive was quiet. Save for the soft remedy of the radio. The music gave Bella the distraction she needed to not say anything about what took place in Edward’s bedroom until they reached her house. All the while she replayed the moment in her head, followed by how eerie the Cullen house became right after the famous ship’s name spilled from her lips.

Titanic.

“You wanna tell me what that was about?” She did not hesitate the second they entered, hanging her coat on the hanger and moving past him to set up the DVD player. She heard his sigh, igniting her annoyance, “you promised me an explanation.”

She felt his presence behind her, then a second later Edward kneeled to her level and took the DVD once more.

“You once asked me about Y/n,” he began, eyes lowered to the ground, “What her story was and how she was the first to join Carlisle” Gold met brown, his gaze shifting upward, while holding the disk cover up. “This isn’t just a movie, Bella. Not to her.” Heart pounding, Bella felt the air catch in her throat, realizing his implication. 

It’s her life.

“You’re saying…” She glanced at the cover. The iconic image of Leonardo DiCaprio and Kate Winslet as Jack and Rose. The love story that ended in tragedy. Bella’s heart skipped at Edward’s nod.

“She lived it.” The air caught in Bella’s throat as the words left his mouth. “Y/n was on Titanic the night it sank--where she was turned by a vampire who wanted access to her family’s fortune.” 

“Family’s fortune?” Bella was processing multiple things at once. 

She was getting Y/n’s backstory she’d been curious about for over a year. 

The vampire was aboard the famous ship which sank nearly a century prior.

Y/n apparently came from a wealthy family. 

It was a lot to take in. 

Edward placed the disk in the compartment, pressing the button to turn on the tv. “Her family were first-class passengers.” He began to explain, “Her father was the co-owner of the Brooklyn Dodgers and her mother was the daughter of a wealthy banker who happened to be a popular socialite among their class. Y/n was privately educated, and set to study literature at NYU.”

“Wow,” Bella exhaled, taking in the information. The screen had projected the main menu but neither were focused on it. 

Discovering Y/n wanted to pursue literature was no surprise. From the massive book collection in the Cullen’s library which Edward said belonged to her, to the phenomenal school papers Bella had read in their English class during their peer review sessions, she knew Y/n was a gifted writer and storyteller. She made the simplest of words feel powerful. Brought scenes to life in the reader’s mind. 

Then there was the tiny detail that Edward made a comment months back saying Y/n had published several books under pseudonyms.

He won’t admit it, but Bella’s fairly certain Y/n wrote one of the books on their summer reading list. The suspicion formed when she caught him sending his sister a knowing look after the sheet was passed out. When she looked at Y/n, Bella noticed her amused smirk, followed by a chuckle as she winked at her brother. 

“I-I don’t--,” she had trouble putting the words together, flushing red. “I can’t imagine….”

Edward nodded, understanding what she was trying to say. “Talking about our past is hard for all of us. But for Y/n, it doesn’t help that every history class talks about it.” He lifts up the DVD cover, “or that Hollywood continues to make shows and movies.” 

Bella wanted to ask more questions but understood it wasn’t the time. She knew if she wanted more information, she was going to have to gather the courage to ask Y/n herself. A task easier said than done when the vampire had barely warmed up to the human since implanting herself in their lives. 

They settled on the couch and pressed play, but Bella’s attention was far from the film. Her mind drifted to Y/n. Thinking about her as each scene played out to the point Bella started to picture Y/n in Rose’s place. It brought chills to her arms, shuddering as she couldn’t help but wonder what it was like in those final moments as the ship sank. 

When the movie ended, Bella said goodbye to Edward and began her assignment. Again, she was distracted. Feeling off as she searched online for sources about Titanic and watched video clips of survivors. 

Eventually, after contemplating for over an hour, Bella picked up the phone off the receiver and dialed the number. It rang three times before the familiar voice with a slight transatlantic accent spoke through. 

“I’ve been waiting for your call.” 

Bella silently cursed, face and neck turning red as she cleared her throat before replying, “Can you come over? I’d like to talk to you.” 

20 minutes later, Bella and Y/n sat across from each other in her kitchen. Notebook in front of her, cup of juice on the table and pencil in hand while Y/n’s were folded in her lap. To Bella’s surprise, the vampire knew exactly why she had called her, for Alice had seen it that morning and warned Y/n. 

‘So much for easing my way into this,’ Bella thought to herself. 

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” She nervously said, fiddling with the pencil in her hand. Y/n gave her a soft smile in hopes of easing the poor girl.

“Bella, if I didn’t want to do this I would have said so over the phone.” 

“I know but…” she cringes slightly, more embarrassed with herself than anything. “This is your history. And I feel like I invaded your privacy by making Edward tell me why we couldn’t watch the film at your house.”

“You didn’t make him tell you anything,” Y/n’s words shocked her, Bella tilting her head in confusion. “Edward made a promise, and you were ensuring he lived up to it. I can understand given the way he behaved and made you clueless as to what the issue was. Granted,” Y/n paused, shuffling in her seat, “I would have rather you simply came to me, but I realize my part in why you refrained all these months since you got together.” 

‘Avoiding you like the plague,’ as one would say.

Y/n put her folded hands on the table, nodding to the notebook. “How would you like to start?” 

Bella straightened in her chair, bringing the notebook closer as she opened it to remove the paper listing the assignment. She skimmed over it, brows pinched, “Um, it says I have the option to write an essay on media--documentaries, movies, tv specials--about the event. Research and write a biographical report on a famous passenger. Or….” her teeth sunk into her bottom lip, peering at Y/n over the paper. “Interview a survivor.” 

Y/n hummed, elbows propped on the table to rest her chin on her folded hands. “And which option are you leaning toward?” 

A frown made its way on Bella’s face, shrugging lightly as she placed the sheet back down. “Honestly I’m not sure. I’ve watched the movie and a couple documentaries. Read a memoir from a survivor and searched about a few passengers on the internet.”

“Well my advice,” Y/n mused, shifting her arms down so they were crossed but still leaning on the table. “Options one and two are your best bet. Unfortunately the last remaining survivor, besides myself,” she paused briefly with a strained smile, “lives all the way in England. She’s I believe 94, and was only two months old when she was aboard. Frankly I do not understand why our teacher would have that option on the assignment.” Leaning back in her chair she let out a sigh before giving the girl a knowing look. “But Bella, you and I both know you don’t really need my help on this assignment.”

Heat rushed to her cheeks, making Bella’s pale face turn red as a tomato. Of course Y/n wasn’t going to buy her excuse of helping with homework. And there was no point in denying it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t really know how to approach the subject.” 

“You could’ve just asked,” Y/n teased, but waved a hand dismissively and huffed. “Again. I’m to blame for why you didn’t.” Straightening her already perfect posture, Y/n tugged at the sleeve of her turtleneck and got serious. Taking a moment before speaking as though she were preparing herself. “You want to know my story and I’ll tell you, but you have to understand that it is not like how you see in the movies. My experience,” a faint look reached her eyes. “Was very different.”

Bella swallowed thickly, closing her notebook and pushing it away. Giving Y/n her full attention. “I understand.”

“What all did Edward tell you?”

“That you were on the Titanic when it sank. Your family came from wealth, and you were targeted by a vampire who snuck on who wanted access to that.” Bella saw the way Y/n’s breath hitched, stiffening but quickly recovered herself. Making the girl mentally curse herself for possibly overstepping. 

“Okay. That at least gives me some insight on where to begin.” Clearing her throat, Y/n reached into her satchel and removed a silver metal tin. It was in great condition despite evidently being from the 1910s. “Do you mind?” 

The question confused Bella, who didn’t know how to respond until her gaze landed on the now open tin, revealing five pristine cigarettes on either side. “Oh,” her eyes widened in surprise. Not sure how to respond since this was new information to her. Instantly questions popped in her mind. ‘Can vampires even smoke?’ ‘Does anyone else in the Cullens smoke?’ ‘How does that work?’ 

Bella shrugged, “my dad smokes cigars in the living room at times. And my step-dad is a smoker so I don’t mind, help yourself. Whatever makes you comfortable.”

“Thanks,” Y/n plucked one from the tin, placing it between her lips before looking in her bag again to fish for her lighter. “You know, it pleases me that there are still some cigarettes from my time available. These are Camels,” she gestured at them with one hand while the other pulled out the lighter. It matched the tin. Silver, vintage, and in pristine condition. “I preferred Fatima’s back then, but these will have to do. I hate Malboro’s,” her thumb flicked the lighter open, the flame igniting. 

“Never tried them,” Bella commented with a small smile. Frankly she was quite stunned with how Y/n was speaking to her as though they had been friends for decades. Just telling her the favorite cigarettes she used to smoke gave a little insight into her past. 

Bella pictured the young woman on the terrace of a New York cafe, cigarette in hand with a martini in the other while gossiping to her friends of the latest scandals within their socialite circle. Pearls around her neck, diamonds on her ears. Standing in the powder room with said friends to reapply her rough lipstick and adjust whatever pillbox hat she chose to wear that day. 

Thinking of what Y/n’s life might have been before becoming a vampire saddened Bella. The possibilities, the opportunities. Would she have married and have children? Would she have gone on to do great things? 

“It doesn’t do anything to me, obviously.” Y/n explained, bringing the flame to the filter. The glow of it made her golden eyes brighten in color. Once lit, she flicked the lighter off and tossed it and the tin back into her satchel. Bella stared at Y/n with fascination as she inhaled deeply before tilting her head back to blow out a thick cloud of smoke. “But it makes me feel….human. I used to do it so much that having one in my hand became second nature. It was common for the times. Plus the taste of it reminds me of bitter coffee,” That distant look in her eyes returned, but was then replaced by annoyance, “Carlisle hates it--as does Esme but they tolerate it so long I do it on the terrace. Emmett and Rosalie will indulge me by partaking to get under their skin,” a light chuckle leaves her lips, taking another drag. “The others say nothing. As I said, it doesn’t affect us.”

Bella laughed under breath, “Honestly I can’t see Edward smoking.” Picturing it felt foreign, and Bella wondered if he had before turning. 

Y/n laughed with her. “I’ve tried tempting him, but he never breaks. Still tries to use the excuse that it is a bad habit.” Y/n scoffs, “believe me, I know. He just hates the smell of it--enhanced senses to blame for that.” Blowing smoke out, Y/n finished with, “Alright, enough of my bad habit.”

Y/n began to take Bella back to April 10th, 1912. To the day she and her family boarded Titanic to set sail to New York from Southampton, England. “Before they were the Los Angeles Dodgers, they were the Brooklyn Dodgers. And before that, they were the Brooklyn Superbas. My father co-founded and owned the team in 1883 as the Brooklyn Grays prior to all the name changes and eventual move. His father,” she took out a small antique ashtray from the satchel, tapping off the ash from the filter. “had accumulated wealth after hitting big during the Gold Rush. My father then used his part of the inheritance to go into business with Charles Byrne, Joseph Doyle, and Ferdinand Abell.”

Now it made sense for Bella why whenever the Cullen’s played baseball Y/n sported Dodger merchandise and would find her watching the team play on T.V during the season. She also was a fan of the Brooklyn Mets, but not as enthusiastic as she was with the Dodgers. Not to mention the intense rivalry with Edward for his love of the Chicago Cubs. 

“Now you know how my family’s fortune came to be,” Y/n waved the smoke she released away, “and as you can imagine, he was friends with some very rich, influential people in New York. The whole reason we were in England to begin with was to attend the wedding of one of those people. As for Titanic,” she swallowed the imaginary bile in her throat. “He wanted to have the ability to tell everyone that he and his family were amongst the ship's first passengers. To brag or whatever--I don’t really know. But it happened that the wedding took place around the time she was set to set sail to New York. Extending our trip to last three weeks instead of the two we planned. All because he managed to snag the tickets by talking to the right people at the right time…..”

“I do not understand why we couldn’t have left on the Lusitania last week,” Y/n complained as the car neared the boarding docks. Trying to peer out the window but was annoyed by the crowd of people taking up every inch of the pavements, making their journey last longer than planned. “We’ve taken the liner twice now--surely it would have been up to satisfaction. We’ve had no trouble traveling on it--why go through the hassle of staying a whole week longer just to be on this ship, father?”

Not looking up from the newspaper in his hands, Y/n’s father sighed and shook his head. Irritated by her complaining as she had yet to stop since he told her the news. “Because, daughter, this is no ordinary ship. The White Star Line has spent years crafting the perfect vessel for the sea and we are in an extraordinary position to be able to be amongst the first passengers aboard. How could you not be excited by that?”

Y/n secured her coat tighter around her shoulders, frowning while keeping her gaze on the scene outside. “Forgive me for not being comfortable at boarding a ship that is set to make its first voyage across the Atlantic.” 

“Oh for heaven’s sake, Y/n. There is no need to be dramatic and consume yourself with worry. The White Star Line has assured Titanic passed every safety precaution and is unsinkable.” 

That did nothing to lift her unease, “Is that not what they said about the Tayleur? It sank three days into its maiden voyage?!” Her father grumbled, closing his paper to fold and place in his lap. 

“That was over fifty years ago. Times have changed. Technology has changed.” His hand waved dismissively, “That ship was doomed from the start despite what the papers make of it. Look, it would be foolish of them to not have learned from their mistakes. I’m telling you there is nothing to worry about.”

“But that feeling never left me,” Y/n put out the cigarette, blowing out the last bit of smoke. “Even after meeting the crew and the captain, there was an odd heaviness in my stomach. Telling me that something would happen. No matter what I did to distract myself--whether that be playing cards or chatting with other young girls my age aboard, thinking about my fiancé back in New York….it never left my mind.” 

Bella let out a gasp, eyes widening at the revelation, “Fiancé?” At the vampire’s nod, Bella felt her heartbreak. 

“Alexander Mason,” there was an airiness when Y/n exhaled, reminiscing at the memory of her lost love. “His father was a real estate mogul and big fan of the Dodgers. Our fathers met at a banquet, not long after they were invited to watch a game from our private viewing box and introduced us. Alex was a doll,” Another cigarette was lit, the woman shifting in her chair. “Handsome, intelligent. Beautiful eyes you could get lost in. Had a sharp tongue but a quick wit. I honestly wanted nothing to do with him,” Y/n chuckled at Bella’s gaped expression. “He talked my ear off that night.”

“And that was a bad thing?” Bella giggled.

“No,” Y/n defended, her own smile threatening to peek through. “It’s not a bad thing. It was just….odd. Took me off guard--especially because the conversation was centered around me. Which--,” her finger not holding the cigarette lifted up for emphasis, “most men in the 1900s of that class were not interested in the hobbies and interests of women. They desired a wife who would be a shiny doll to hang off their arm and keep the house in order.” The cigarette went between her lips. 

“I was not like that. I had dreams. Aspirations. I wanted to go to school, become a writer, and maybe see a little of the world before settling down.” The small, albeit sad, smile appeared. “He supported me--encouraged it actually. Then after several dates I was smitten. Alex was the first man to whisk me off my feet and make me believe there were truly good people out there. He was so sweet. So kind. Loving.” If her heart could beat, Y/n was sure it would have died on its own from being broken. “I knew I’d never find another like him. Which is why I said yes to marrying him after four months of courting. Under the condition we’d wait until I completed university--we were seventeen after all and the idea of marrying that young, despite it being common, unnerved me.”

“And he was okay with that?”

“He was. He agreed that it was too soon to get married, but he told me he’d rather refer to me as his fiancée than telling people we were going steady.” It was then Y/n peered down at her left hand. Bella followed her gaze, landing on the dainty diamond ring on the finger reserved for when one commits their life and love for another person until death do them part. Realizing what the ring was, and seeing how she never saw Y/n without it, Bella felt her eyes water. 

“Is that…?”

“Yes.”

“It’s beautiful,” it truly was. Timeless and the type of ring that belonged on display in an antique museum. It suited Y/n.  

“Thank you,” she beamed, lifting her hand up to inspect it. “His words when he proposed was he saw the ring and it reminded him of the way my eyes sparkled when I laughed.” Y/n tightened her lips, emotion flooding her. “Little did he know the only time I genuinely laughed was with him. He was the reason for that sparkle.” 

A pregnant pause fell over the two. Y/n shuddering as she blinked away the tears that would never fall. God if there was one thing from her human days she wished she still had, it was the ability to cry. 

“What happened to him? If you don’t mind me asking,” Bella’s tone was gentle, hand nudging slightly forward as if to offer Y/n comfort. 

“He lived a long life,” Y/n resumed smoking, though the sadness never left her tone and her gaze remained on her ring. “I watched over him for many years--even after joining Carlisle. He can attest to the weekends I’d go missing and return with a tortured presence.” The heaviness in her chest heightened, she quickly reverted the story back to Titanic knowing at some point Bella would ask more about her relationship. 

“Anyways, we boarded Titanic the morning of April tenth and I kept to myself most of the time. If I wasn’t in my suite, I read in the lounge or sat on the deck drinking tea. Played cards with wives and daughters in first class. Chatted with the crew whenever I had questions.” Y/n inhaled sharply, eyes turning narrow. “It wasn’t just the ship I was worried about--Twas the main reason for my anxiety, yes, but there was a sense that I was being watched. You know the feeling?”

Bella nodded, heat rising to her pale cheeks as she thought back to the first weeks she lived in Forks and first met Edward. Even when she could not physically see him, the feeling she was being watched hovered over her. Then of course the incident with James, and now with Victoria still out there, Bella kept looking over her shoulder believing she’d catch a glimpse of red hair. “I know it quite well.” 

“Then you know it brings the hairs on the back of your neck up,” Y/n snarls, clutching her fists together. “And it is frustrating because you feel as though you are going crazy scanning your surroundings every second hoping to find the one responsible.” Unclenching she shook her head and took a deep drag of the cigarette. Letting the nicotine, a placebo to her, linger in her system before releasing. “The entire time on that ship I knew I was being watched. On the deck--in the lounge--in the ballroom, God, on my way to the powder room, I felt like a deer being hunted. My father dismissed my concerns, naturally, because I had no evidence of this faceless individual stalking me aboard. My mother, God rest her soul, at least listened and advised me to not wander on my own after nightfall.” 

“I’m assuming this faceless individual is the vampire who…” Bella trailed off nervously, her suspicions confirmed by the firm nod she received. “Who was he?” This time she got a scoff.

“To this day I’m unsure if the name he gave me was in fact his real one. Hours prior to the sinking he introduced himself to me--Called himself Arthur Deveroux. Said he was an investment broker out of London.” The sneer returned on her visage. “And that he was on his way to New York to do business with Rockerfeller. I’d never heard of him, and to this day the name Arthur Deveroux is not on the list of first class passengers aboard Titanic. He was a stowaway,” Y/n explained with a grimace. “Snuck on minutes before the ship departed Southampton and imposed as a member of London’s elite. In reality, Arthur--or whatever his true name was--was a man who’s greatest power was the ability to deceive.”

A chill ran down Bella’s spine. Enough to make her shift in her seat. It wasn’t hard to picture the kind of man Arthur was based on the fury laced in the vampire’s tone. And as Y/n relayed the story of the night she met her creator, Bella felt as though she were there with her. 

“What did you say your name was again?” Y/n’s brows pinched, observing the man with skepticism as she removed her hand from his after he’d taken it to kiss her knuckles. Just before he approached her at the table where she had been retrieving a plate of custard for her mother, that inkling of being watched had pooled in her stomach. Sending off alarm bells when she turned to find a beautiful man appearing not much older than her with the most unusual eye color. 

Red. Deep like the rouge lipstick she wore. The sight of them made her take a cautious step back. 

“Arthur Deveroux, madam.” Never had she heard a voice like him. Smooth and echoey. Unique and the type one would hear singing on the radio. Or beckoning prey out to sea. 

“Arthur,” Y/n repeated, scanning his physique which was donned in a crisp suit. Matching the men around them present for dinner. “You’re from England I assume? What brings you to New York?”

“Business. My company hopes to collaborate with Mr. Rockerfeller.”

“Fascinating,” she wasn’t really. Many men attempted to get their hooks into the millionaire and turned up short. Y/n thanked the waiter handing her a martini, taking a sip while eyeing Arthur, who declined the waiter’s offer of making him a drink. “How come I have not seen you before tonight, Mr. Deveroux? Are you not one to mingle?”

His chuckle sounded like wind chimes. “I’m afraid not. I tend to stick to the walls during these gatherings and observe. The people here are far too ostentatious for my liking.” If he’d been anyone else Y/n would laugh. Agreeing with the statement. But something about Arthur screamed that he was hiding something.

“Well, do enjoy yourself these last days Mr. Deveroux.” She began to excuse herself, sneaking a glance to her table to find her parents watching the scene. “I hope New York is up to your standards.” 

The smirk that appeared sent goosebumps along Y/n’s arm. And not the good kind she’d get when Alex looked at her. Everything about the expression was eerie. As though Arthur was calculating an idea--and Y/n was at the center of it.

“I believe you might be right, Y/n. I think New York is going to be everything I envisioned.” Taking her hand once more, Arthur’s smirk never left as he felt her shudder at the touch. Cold lips pressing to her knuckles. “Perhaps we’ll see each other there.” Before she had the chance to reply, Arthur backed away slowly then turned on his heel. Striding toward the exit amongst a sea of guests, and Y/n let out the sigh of relief she’d been holding. 

When he disappeared from her view, Y/n realized she’d never given him her name.

As it came time to recall the final minutes of her humanity, Y/n was on her fourth cigarette and the golden color of her eyes had dimmed. Bella’s heart skipped and she swore to herself knowing Y/n heard it. The last thing she wanted was to dishearten the young woman further. 

“I’d got separated from my parents during the initial chaos,” her voice was barely over a murmur. Gaze fixated on the surface of the table. “Titanic had just struck the iceberg and the impact woke me up. My parents went to the deck for information and I was trying to find them when I was suddenly pulled into a storage closet by a force so strong I remember it knocking me off my feet. Dragging me into the darkness. I couldn’t see and the grip on me prevented me from moving--I let out a scream but then a hand covered my mouth causing me to freeze. That’s when I heard his voice.”

“I’m sorry it had to be this way, Y/n.” his icy mouth caressed the side of her ear. Y/n whimpered against the rock solid hand holding her still. “I’d hoped to continue our conversation in New York, but it appears this ship will not be arriving. Now I have to improvise, but rest assured….this will only hurt for a little while.” And before Y/n could react, a pinch on her neck turned to a searing, excruciating pain that exploded in every cell in her body as Arthur sank his teeth into her skin. 

Ensuring Y/n L/n was listed among those lost at sea when Titanic greeted the bottom of the Atlantic on the early morning of April 15th, 1912. Her name missing from the list of survivors recovered on the RMS Carpathia. To the world, the beautiful young socialite died along with the thousands Titanic took with her. Never knowing she was reborn into a creature of the night, destined to walk the Earth for eternity as a living reminder of the ship of dreams that was believed to never meet her end. 

“By the time I awoke Titanic was all but a memory. A blur. He kept me in that closet for most of the transformation as the ship took on water. Slowly descending further and further into the icy waters of the Atlantic,” Y/n finished the last of her cigarette, putting the nub out and curling her hands into her elbows. “I heard everything. The screams. The cries. Women and children saying goodbye to their fathers. The violins from the band who refused to stop playing.” The melody filled her ears, bringing Y/n back in time. “I focused on the music. Ironically enough, it brought comfort despite the chaos unfolding and served as a distraction for the torment I was going through. Mentally and physically.”

Bella wiped away a tear with a sniff but she remained quiet.

“When the upper deck flooded, that's when Arthur moved us. Edward might have told you before that when a vampire bites a human, the amount of time it takes for the venom to course through all depends on where they bite them.” Bella nodded slowly, remembering the conversation from when she first went to the Cullen’s home and he told her that Carlisle suffered for days during the transformation because he was bitten on the hand. For Y/n, Arthur bit her neck. Closer to the heart and therefore it would only take hours. 

“I was nearing the end--and he knew that, but it was minutes before the ship would submerge and he did not want us to get stuck. He gathered me up, hauled me over his shoulder and made our escape. To everyone on board scrambling to stay afloat it looked like a man carrying his lover to safety. What they didn’t see, however,” Y/n paused briefly to gather her emotions. “Was Arthur throwing us off the railing on the opposite side and swimming away. For miles and miles in absolute darkness. Until we finally reached the shore.”

Bella pictured a newly turned Y/n dragged from the waters onto the sands of New York. Returning home as planned, but without a beating heart and newfound thirst for blood. Scared. Confused. One minute she’s aboard a sinking ship, the next she’s on land. Life stolen by a man with sinister intentions. Depriving her of the future with Alex she dreamed of. 

“What happened next?” Bella carefully asked. 

Y/n’s expression remained dejected, offering a light shrug. “Arthur kept me hidden for days. Forcing me to feed on innocent humans. The RMS Carpathia would be arriving in New York and he needed to confirm if my parents had survived so he could blackmail me into stealing my inheritance.” Pushing away from the table, Y/n gathered the ashtray and discarded the remains into the trash. Running it under the faucet before wiping it dry with a paper towel.

“What the bastard didn’t anticipate,” she said with a tone Bella couldn’t decipher, but it sent a wave of unease through her. “Was the level of rage I experienced when I finally got a hold of my mind. It’s easy for creators to manipulate newborn vampires, but they have to be precise and hope that the person does not remember what preceded the bite. Unfortunately for Arthur, I remembered everything.” Y/n returned to the table, tossing the ashtray in her satchel and Bella saw the darkened expression that had encased her. “And once I realized what he’d done to me…let’s just say Arthur should’ve thought twice about taking on a newborn vampire for the first time.”

Bella didn’t have to hear the words to know what Y/n was implying. Gulping as she muttered, “You destroyed him. Like Edward did to James.”

Their eyes locked, and Bella felt her breath hitch by the blankness in Y/n’s. “Does that bother you?”

“No,” there was no hesitation. How could Bella blame her for wanting revenge on the man who stole her life. Y/n deserved her revenge and from the sound of it, Arthur had never turned anyone prior to her. Leaving him unqualified for the intensity a newborn experiences adjusting to their new life. 

Y/n would’ve been stronger. Faster. Combine that with rage and the taste for vengeance and Arthur was no match for her. 

“Carlisle found me three months later--in July of 1912,” Y/n wrapped up the story, fiddling with the cuff of her sleeve before moving to play with her ring. “I knew immediately he was like me, but his eyes were different and I wanted--needed--to know what my future was like. Considering I didn’t really give Arthur the chance to explain,” A sheepish look came over her. “Carlisle had this aura, and I knew I could trust him.” A soft chuckle escapes her, “It’s funny, you know, my intuition never failed me when I was human. It was so strong even then and becoming this only enhanced it. Just look at how the entire time on Titanic I could not shake the feeling it wouldn’t reach America. Then Arthur….Carlisle believes it to be my gift and If I’m being honest I didn’t believe it myself until decades later.” 

Bella instantly became curious, “What made you think otherwise?”

Y/n tensed, and the crushing expression replaced the somber one. Folded hands going in her lap, but her thumb still stroked the ring. “Remember how I said I used to watch over Alex?” Bella nodded slowly, chest tightening at the implication, followed by confirmation. “Well I always felt,” her left hand went to the part of her chest where her heart lay. Unmoving. “In here, beckoning me to be near him. That I needed to see him--even if it was for a split second. And so, for seventy years--,” Bella’s mouth parted with glistening eyes. Y/n mirrored her, but unlike Bella the tears wouldn’t fall. “I would go to him. Observing from afar of course I could never…get close.” Y/n squeezed her eyes shut, placing her hand back in her lap. “There were times he saw me.”

A gasp left Bella before she could stop it. “He did?”

“Yes,” Y/n murmur was more of a whimper, and Bella let the first tear fall. “I knew it was wrong, but I’d let our gaze lock. Then the second he blinked or turned I bolted. I know,” she huffed, “It was selfish of me. I hated myself because I was quite literally a ghost haunting him. But God I just needed to see his eyes--they were always my favorite thing about him.” 

Y/n cleared her throat loudly, rubbing her arms as she gathered herself. She knew telling Bella about Alex her years watching over him would come to this moment, but nothing could prepare her for the pain surfacing within her. 

“The uh--the last time I saw Alex was on his deathbed,” her eyes were closed but she heard Bella’s reaction. From the stutter of her heart to the sharp inhale. “In the days leading up everything felt off. I knew he was sick--he’d been for awhile, but I hoped he’d pull through like the other scares. This was different.” Her hand went back to her chest. “My intuition never failed me,” she let out a watery laugh, “and this time…it was warning the inevitable. Then Alice gave a look I’ll never forget, and I knew I needed to get to him as fast as I could.”

Bella couldn’t even imagine, just envisioning it made her heart sink into her stomach and throat dry up. Before she could ask the million dollar question, Y/n answered for her. “I got to say goodbye. It’s what Alex deserved. After everything I put him through he deserved to have closure.”

“Why did you never…?”

“Turn him?”

“Yeah,” Bella frowned, immediately regretting the question upon Y/n’s look of torment. 

“Same reason why Edward has yet to turn you,” it was harsh and Y/n knew it. But Bella needed a wake up call, if she could be the one to deliver then so be it. Yet at the same time, Y/n finds it aggravating that Edward would put this much effort into a relationship with Bella to not turn her. With Alex, Y/n never pursued him and kept her distance for a reason. Yes, she tortured herself by constantly checking on him, but at least she committed to it. 

A flash of hurt was evident on Bella, but she recovered as Y/n continued, “Alex lived a long life. Maybe not always happy, but he went on to do great things. He became an engineer, and dedicated his career to advancing ships for cross-Atlantic travel. Because he never wanted another disaster like Titanic to happen again,” a small smile curled up on her lips, a proud look in her eyes. “Eventually he married a nice woman, had a daughter, and three grandkids. Turning him would’ve taken that all away.”

Despite feeling broken-hearted for Y/n, Bella understood her reasoning, even though she herself desires becoming a vampire to be with Edward. Unlike Y/n, who sacrificed her chance at having her love with her to give him the ability to live a full life. 

“Did you,” she bit her lip, leaning her elbows on the table after wiping a stray tear. “Did you at least get to talk to him? Before he died?”

Y/n was silent. Gaze drawn down to her lap where it focused on the diamond ring. And while her undead heart broke for the man she’d never see tending to his garden or placing fresh flowers on her ‘grave,’ ever again, Y/n smiled at knowing he was in a better place. 

“I did.”

“I-I knew--I always knew,” the old man croaked in anguish as tears welled in his beautiful eyes that still held the color and sparkle they did when he was a seventeen-year-old boy. Now covered with wrinkles to match his withered skin and silver hair. He laid in a hospital attached to different machines, heart monitor picking up in pace at the rapid beat due to the emotions consuming him. But no matter his appearance, he was still the sweet, darling, Alexander Mason Y/n fell in love with all those years ago. “I-I saw you--after Carpathia docked I scoured the area for you.”

“I know you did,” Y/n whispered with agony. Grabbing his hands gently, making him gasp by how cold they were but he clutched them like a lifeline. Holding them to his chest because he feared that if he let go she’d disappear. 

“They told me you were lost at sea,” the first tear fell, and Y/n felt a sob in the back of her throat. “They said you sank to the bottom and would never be recovered. They--they told me I was making it up--but I knew you were out there. I saw you.” He shook his head as more tears cascaded down his cheeks like a never ending waterfall. “I saw you at my graduation. At the cemetery when my mother died. At the docks when I left for France--when I was in France.” Y/n shuddered at the memory surfacing. 

America had entered World War I and despite Alex coming from wealth where he easily could’ve dodged the draft, he enlisted and spent the year in Europe fighting. And the entire time Alex carried a photograph of Y/n in his pocket close to his heart. Removing it when he was about to go on the frontlines to take one last look at her face and press a kiss to the image. Men in his battalion often asked about the lady Alex held in his pocket, and each time they were met with shock and regret when he revealed she was on Titanic when it sank. 

That was the longest time Y/n had been away from Carlisle. He advised her not to go as she did not know any of his friends that lived in Europe, but Y/n refused to be an ocean apart from Alex. Especially when there was the high chance he may never return home. No, she needed to be close to him. To ensure he was safe. Eventually when the war ended, and Alex was back in New York, Y/n tracked down Carlisle in Chicago. Discovering that during her departure he turned a 17-year-old boy dying of Spanish Influenza. 

“I was there,” she breathed, confirming his statements as she stroked his hand and wrist. Aged skin contrasting with hers frozen in time. It pained her to see him like this. Pained her to have gone decades as a shadow in his life. Observing from afar while never drawing close. 

“You were there,” He repeated with awe, the memories of each occurrence flooding his mind. She wasn’t a figment of his imagination, conjured by his grief. She was real. “At the docks.” Y/n nodded. “At the hotel opening.” Another nod, this time slower. “At my wedding.”

Y/n couldn’t take it anymore. Her head dropped between her shoulders, leaning forward to press her forehead against their conjoined hands. The tearless sob released, echoing along the walls and hitting her straight in the chest. Her undead heart breaking into pieces. “I’m so sorry, Alex. I am so so sorry. Please forgive me--I couldn’t come to you no--no matter how much my soul begged for me to put an end to the suffering.” 

“What happened out there, my darling?” He brought her attention back to him. Not wanting to go another second without looking at her face. The beautiful face he fell in love with as a boy. The face that haunted his dreams. That he swore he saw on a crowded street and when he looked out his window on every birthday and anniversary that passed. The face he thought of when fighting for is life in France--praying he’ll see when he was called to the heavens. 

Now that face was in front of him after decades of mourning. When people called him crazy for always believing Y/n to be alive and forced to hide away. “You’re still as beautiful as the day I lost you.” One hand let go of hers to caress her cheek, wrinkled thumb stroking the area below her eyes. “Except your eyes have changed. They’re not the color they were when you left New York.” His hand rested on top of hers, still perched on his chest right by his heart. “But nonetheless, still beautiful.” 

Y/n swallowed thickly, trying to find the right words to say but none of them seemed appropriate. “You remember all those stories of creatures in the night we used to read about that our parents said were incongruous?” His nod was slow, but attentive. 

“Like Dracula?”

“Yes,” Y/n choked out a laugh, “Like Dracula. Turns out all those stories are not fairy tales.” His sharp intake filled her ears.

“Are you saying…?” This time Y/n was the one to nod. “Good Heavens. You--you are a--.” She shook her head roughly, not wanting to hear him say the word. 

“I’m not the same I was when I left for England all those years ago. There are things--dark things, that exist in the world, and unfortunately I’m one of those.”

Alex rescinded her words, “No. I don’t believe that for a second.”

“It’s true, darling.”

“You might have different eyes, but you’ll always be my Y/n. You’ve been my guardian angel all these years. Any--anytime I felt lost, you were there. Anytime I-I felt like I was forgetting your face, there it was in the distance.” 

Y/n let out a pained sound, but it was so soft Alex couldn’t hear it. His words struck her. Like lightning hitting a tree. How could he still have devotion to her after all the suffering she put him through. 

“You still wear it?” He brought her attention to their hands, where his frail finger traced the ring. “After all this time?”

Y/n stared at him with absolute love, “I’ve never once taken it off.” Bringing his hand to hers, she kissed his weathered skin. “And I never will.” For a moment they just sat there. Staring at each other while the beep of the monitor filled the room. Getting slower and slower to the point Y/n felt herself starting to crumble. “I’m breaking all the rules coming here,” she eventually said, wanting to hear his voice until the inevitable arrived. 

“Rules?”

“Things in this life are not so different from yours. There are rules to follow and the reason why I had to stay away from you. It would’ve put you in danger--and I couldn’t let that happen.” Alice assured Y/n her visit with Alex would remain hidden from the Volturi, but part of her still worried. Thankfully her intuition wasn’t screaming at her, otherwise the situation would be different. 

“Will you get in trouble if you’re caught?”

“Yes. But I don’t want you worrying about that. Alright?”

“Does anyone know you’re here?” The fact Alex was concerned made her smile. 

“The man who took me in does--and the family he and I found along the way.” One of her hands came up to brush away a silver hair that had fallen in front of his eyes. “He found me shortly after I…became this. He knows I would've moved mountains and fought my way through anyone who got in my way to prevent me from being here with you.”

Alex sighed, eyes fluttering shut as they fought against the sleep his body desperately craved. Y/n saw it too, and the look of anguish overcoming her made Alex understand why she waited until now to make an appearance. 

“This is it, isn’t it.” Not a question, a statement. 

“Yes,” she whimpered, scooting closer so she was sitting beside his torso rather than his legs. Leaning into his space as he kept her palms pressed to his slowing heart.

His smile was gentle, “I guess I should find some solace. Dying with the last thing I’ll see being the love of my life I lost a lifetime ago.” Another groan left her. “I always regretted not coming with you to England. That damn Yale interview.”

“I’m grateful you didn’t,” she defended, tone serious as though appalled by his confession. “Had you who’s to say we would’ve made it on a lifeboat. And if they refused to let you on, I would’ve leaped off.” The chances of him surviving would’ve been slim. The lifeboats took women and children first and therefore the majority of those who died aboard Titanic were men. Including Y/n’s father. “You would’ve never done the amazing things you accomplished, Alex. You would’ve never got your Nobel Prize--or had your family.” 

A sigh left him, knowing she was right, and another wave of tears fell as he whispered, “I would’ve joined you.” He would’ve become a vampire for her. Traded in his future of living to remain unmoving in time with her. 

It devastated her. “I know you would have,” her bottom lip trembled, “But Alex, you deserved to live. You deserved to do all those great things. You’ve embedded your name in history--thanks to you, there hasn’t been a commercial passenger ship to sink in seventy years.”

Alex let out a snuffle, “I didn’t want--I didn’t want anyone to experience the pain I did. Losing you that way…I never recovered, Y/n.” 

Now that destroyed her. Worse than she ever imagined. Y/n audibly reacted as the pain tightened and exploded in her chest. “Oh, Alex.”

“You’ll stay, right?” The monitor decreased in pace. Alex used what little strength his heart had left to stay alive to treasure the last moments the universe afforded him with Y/n. His time was coming, and he was ready, but he needed to see her face, hear her voice, and feel her touch, one last time. “You’ll be right here.”

Y/n leaned forward, holding her weight up but still keeping her body close to his. “I am not going anywhere,” She vowed, lacing their fingers together, pressing them into his chest so she could feel the light thump of his heart. “I’ll be right here every second.”

And Y/n did. She sat there, holding his hands until they went limp. The beeping decreased. Alex’s breathing turned into soft pants, eyes fluttering as the darkness beckoned him. The last thing he felt was cold lips pressed to his forehead, and the melody of her voice in her ears sending him off to the Heavens, “I love you, Alexander Mason, I will love you until the end of time. And when the day comes, I’ll meet you at the docks.” 

April 14th, 2012 

The Cullens stood together in silence as the cool wind breeze passed them and clouds drizzled light rain above. The smell of salt from the sea filled their senses, the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks, causing the boats docked to lightly sway. 

Bella, now possessing golden eyes and skin so pale and cold, leaned into Edward’s side while brushing a hand down their daughter’s hair. Like her family, she remained silent as she watched her sister-in-law stand alone at the edge of the docking port. Staring ahead into the deep, quiet ocean. 

In the middle of the night one hundred years prior and 1,300 miles away, the ship of dreams known as Titanic sank to the bottom of the Atlantic. Carrying 2,240 souls on her maiden voyage to New York, only 706 made it to their destination. The rest were lost to the sea. 

Y/n L/n may have survived the sinking, but she died aboard Titanic. As the ‘unsinkable’ vessel took on water, her heart stopped. Never to beat again. Becoming frozen like the waters consuming them, she went on to outlive the 706 survivors rescued on the RMS Carpathia. The last one leaving the docks forever in 2009. 

Flowers in her hand, with the same face that boarded Titanic, Y/n approached the edge of the dock. The wind breezed past her, stronger this time but she remained afoot. Crouching down so her knees hovered over the wood. And when she leaned over to stare at the water, the reflection of that 17-year-old passenger stared back at her. 

With a shuddered breath, Y/n gently lowered the bouquet, watching as the current grasped the flowers, allowing them to drift away in the direction Titanic would have traveled when she reached her final destination. 

Golden eyes followed the flowers as they grew smaller and smaller in the distance until Y/n barely made out the color. When it was gone from her vision, she tilted her head up to the sky, smiling at the sight of the sun breathing through the dense clouds. 

They’d have to go indoors eventually, but Y/n rejoiced in the feeling that the universe was sending her a sign. They might be gone, but they are never forgotten. The people we love are always watching over us. Sometimes it’ll feel like a gentle touch to the shoulder. Or comes as a whisper. Or in a crowded room you might find their face. 

However it may come, they are always there. 

And as Y/n began to stand, wind picking up once more, she felt the caress of a hand on her shoulder, a gentle murmur filling her ears. 

“I’ll always wait for you at the docks.”

[leggerefiore]

cw: Short drabble, comedy mostly,

pairing: Emmet/Reader

A funny idea popped into your head as you watched the twins work. Both seemed completely lost in their tasks, so you opted to strike while they were least expecting it. Calling out to them, you managed to get Ingo to turn his head toward you and question what you needed. Emmet kept focused on the paperwork on his desk, likely exhausted of filling out an injury report. It seemed despite his constant reminder to check safety, some decided to ignore his heeding.

“Are you guys twins or something?” you questioned them. Ingo's expression shifted instantly to something completely unamused, while Emmet whipped his head up to look at you in bewilderment. Neither seemed to take your words well. Yet, you still got a laugh out Ingo's sigh and shake of his head.

“Of course not, we are simply two men who happen to look identical and share parents,” he replied, giving a rare bout of sarcasm, “… Quite strange, isn't it? That us identical strangers would find ourselves sharing an apartment and job. You would truly almost think us related, no?” Emmet gasped out at Ingo's words. You found your laughter strengthened. What a concept! A world where they were not twins. It seemed truly impossible with how much of themselves they had based on their bond as brothers and twins.

“Mhm, yep! Verrrry odd, indeed!” Emmet agreed to play along, “My stranger seems to think he is my older brother. It can be annoying when he orders me around.” Ingo shot a look at him. The younger twin only gave an unyielding smile in return. The older one of the two crossed his arms and narrowed his gaze. A dangerous look. Of course, only if one did not know what a softie Ingo was under it all. Of which, you and Emmet did. A head tilt was Emmet's only reply. The two were clearly having one their wordless conversations. You felt a bit left out.

“Well, I apologise but I'm only interested in twins, so I'll be going now,” you continued. Emmet looked at you before rushing over to catch you. Ingo appeared mortified by his younger brother's actions. You laughed more as he clung to you tightly. Eelektross truly did suit the man.

“That's mean, darling,” he whined, “… Me and Ingo are verrrrry close. Why ask such an odd question?” You leaned into his embrace, enjoying his hold quite a bit.

“… I don't know. Haven't you seen those theories online that you two aren't twins?” you recalled some insane conspiracy theories about the two. Emmet tilted his head. Ingo seemed shocked.

“Are you saying…” Ingo began.

“… People think we aren't twins?” Emmet finished, letting you go to pull out his phone. He began to type in the theory. Ingo took off his hat and scratched his head.

“… That is certainly a first…” The older one already sounded exhausted by the concept, “I cannot recall a time in our lives where that was not the first thing someone noticed. We don't exactly hide it…” They really did not. Matching outfits were extremely common with the two. They even attempted to mimic each other to eerie success. Emmet gasped at his phone.

“I am not a Ditto!” he was deeply offended, “Rude! Brother, look at this!” The phone was jousted toward Ingo, who took it from his hands. He then had a similar reaction to his twin.

“Why are they all theories about you not being human? That is so oddly cruel,” he put the phone down and shook his head. “… Assuredly, you must know better than this,” Ingo gazed at you seriously. You nodded. Really… You loved Emmet. That would be the furthest thought from your mind. Both relaxed at that and let themselves settle back into their work, Emmet returning to his desk.

“I do buy the clone theory, though,” you said before heading out the door.

Each looked offended once again.

Later on, you explained that one of them was technically a genetic clone of the other considering how identical twins worked.

They had to relent to that one, unfortunately. Yet, this brought a debate over who was the “clone.”

[doctorsiren]

what’s gumshoe in your au?? i have to know i love him

Okay so my first doodle request I drew for that big huge doodle request thing I did recently was of a robot design for Gumshoe. I really like this design and I wanted to keep it for the monster AU. I actually have a lot of thoughts for Gumshoe that hit me like a truck this morning when I was brainstorming and so I shall share them :)!!

Detective Dick Gumshoe was actually an investigation robot that Gregory Edgeworth had been building to help the defense (wow! A dad who builds robots? In one of my AUs?? Who would have guessed) but then y’know…DL-6 happened.

And so Gumshoe was shoved into an evidence room and forgotten about until one day 10 years later, Miles Edgeworth stumbles upon him while retrieving some old evidence for something (unimportant)

Miles vaguely remembers this robot as his dad’s side project. In fact, the robot is wearing his father’s tan trench coat. Miles boots him up, and Gumshoe, confused, thinks that Miles is Gregory for a moment (because of their faces and also his tech is worn down), before recognizing that “oh no wait, this is his kid but older??”. Gumshoe doesn’t realize that he’s been shut off for a decade and also doesn’t know that Gregory is dead.

Miles is taken aback when Gumshoe is able to recognize him as Miles because it’s been 10 years and also Miles had been turned into a vampire during that decade. That moment of his father’s robot still recognizing him was one of the foundational moments that would later lead to his complete doubt and uncertainty in von Karma’s ways (which were completely toppled over by Wright in the years to come)

So Miles does his best to patch Gumshoe up, and now he has this robot detective at his side. Von Karma doesn’t approve, but he’s also trying not to alert this detective bot to him being suspicious, just in case it’s able to figure out the truth behind DL-6

Von Karma’s caution surrounding Gumshoe was unfounded, however, since Gregory was never able to finish the robot. This resulted in the not-so-smart detective we all know and love, simply due to his programming never being completed. Although a directive that *was* completed was the programming that Gregory had implemented in Gumshoe to always protect his son Miles. That’s why Gumshoe is always so loyal to the vampire, even when Miles tells him how bad of a detective he is. It’s also why even though Gumshoe had been built originally to be an aid for the defense, he is loyal to the prosecution.

Gumshoe also views Miles as his brother, on the basis that they technically have the same dad. Miles acts annoyed and like he doesn’t agree, but he secretly is happy to have this reminder of his father still around. Gumshoe does end up getting his own trench coat and letting Miles keep the tan one that belonged to Gregory.

Anyways i think I’ve put more thought into Miles and Gumshoe’s characters for this AU than I have put into all the other characters in the AU combined 😭

[peachhcs]

https://www.tumblr.com/peachhcs/766739881092415488/httpswwwtumblrcompeachhcs766558720067043328

okay okay thank god that talked kinda finally!!!

ahhh another part your spoiling us !!!

part 8!! let me know if we wanna continue and how i should take this side plot if we do want it to continue on or leave it here bc technically will and samy have resolved their minor conflict LOL

au masterlist

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7

samy was at home for a few days after emailing her professors that she hurt her shoulder and was a bit immobile when it came to typing and trying to write. it was nice being in her own bed in the comfort of her own room, but boy did she not miss having her mom all over her every second of the day.

ellen poked her head into samy’s room probably ever fifteen minutes as if her daughter’s state had changed since she last checked-in. samy knew she meant well, but sometimes it felt like she couldn’t even breathe without her mom asking if she was okay.

“it’s because you’re the baby of the family,” jack teased when him and quinn called to check-in that afternoon. the girl rolled her eyes.

“is this how you felt when you broke your shoulder?” she mumbled while the older brunette laughed.

“yeah, basically. she’ll baby any of us when something’s wrong, but you more because you’re the youngest.”

“it’s so annoying. i can’t even like..do anything without her down my neck,” samy huffed.

“yeah, sorry squirt. how are you otherwise?” jack wondered.

“i’m fine, i guess. disappointed. sad. bored. in pain.”

“when do you think you’ll play again?” quinn wondered.

“i’m hoping before the championships start, but it depends on how i heal,” the younger girl explained and the older boys nodded.

“crossing my fingers for you then. that girl was so fucking annoying with the way she played. can’t believe she didn’t get a red card,” jack shook his head in frustration.

“tell me about it, but it’s whatever. can’t do anything about it now,” samy shrugged with her good arm.

meanwhile, will had just gotten into michigan and was downstairs saying hi to ellen and jim. he’d been conversing with luke all morning who went to pick the blonde up without samy’s knowledge.

“it’s so good to see you, will. how have you been?” ellen gushed, excited to see her “fourth” son.

“i’ve been pretty good. it’s good to see you guys too,” will smiled.

“samy’s upstairs. she might be talking to her brothers, but you can go knock,” ellen grinned as she pushed the boy to the stairs. he flushed a bit, waving awkwardly before slowly making his way up.

samy’s door was closed and he could hear her soft voice coming from inside. for some reason, will was nervous. what if she didn’t want him here? what if she told him to go home? what if she didn’t want to see him?

will shook himself from the negative thoughts. he couldn’t think like that. it was samy. his girlfriend. she’d never say those things to him he carefully lifted his hand and tapped three times against the hardwood.

“mom, i promise i’m fine since the last time you asked,” samy called from inside and will heard sounds of quinn and jack laughing.

the blonde smiled a bit as he slowly pushed the door open. samy rolled her eyes that her mom didn’t take the hint until she caught a familiar mop of blonde curls and her boyfriend’s face instead of her mom’s. the brunette’s eyes widened and the shock washed over her that he was standing 10 feet from her bed.

“holy shit. w-will?” samy pushed her computer down her legs, swinging them over the bed and took three big strides towards him.

the blonde embraced her as best as he could without hurting her. samy hugged him tightly, drowning in his scent and familiarity. she couldn't believe he was here in her bedroom.

"hi, baby," the blonde hummed while fully melting into her arms.

"what are you doing here? why are you here? aren't you supposed to be in san jose right now?" samy pushed all of her questions as she stepped out of the boy's embrace much to his dismay.

"i wanted to come see you and check in on you after surgery," will explained with a half smile.

"aren't you gonna get in trouble for just skipping practice?" she couldn't believe that will would skip practice just to come see her, especially now that he was in the nhl.

"i mean, probably," the blonde shrugged like he didn't care which took the girl by surprise.

"you don't care? you're not gonna get to play or something."

"i mean, i do, but i care more about you. i wanted to make sure you knew that and knew you'll never be a burden to me," will cupped her cheeks and tilted her face up to his.

samy's expression softened at her boyfriend's admission, "you ditched practice and risked getting in trouble just for me?"

"i did and i always will for you. running lines and being forced to do conditioning is not as worse as making you think you'd be too much for me or something again. i love you and i'm sorry you thought that," will frowned making samy frown too.

"i love you too, will. i'm sorry again i didn't call sooner," samy said and all will did was lean down to press a sweet kiss to her lips.

they melted into one another, savoring the feeling of their lips pressed together after being a part for so long. when they pulled away the mood felt a lot lighter in the room and so did the smiles.

"glad to have you here for a weekend. anything is better than my mom babying me 24/7," the two shared a laugh.

"don't worry, i'll 100% be babying you," will grinned as samy pulled him towards her bed to cuddle for a bit.

they got under the covers while the brunette reached for the remote to turn something onto the tv. will's big arms wrapped themselves around the girl, squeezing her close as he could without hurting her shoulder. once they landed on a tv show for the time being, samy snuggled in closer and let herself finally completely relax. she breathed will in—the scent of his cologne and laundry detergent filling her nose and quickly putting her to sleep.

[erin8411]

That One Annoying Sibling

@summer-of-bad-batch

Main Prompt: "Stop touching me!" // "I’m not touching you!" (Week 13)

Alt. Prompt: Lula (Week 8)

Crosshair: Stop touching me, Wrecker!

Wrecker: I‘m not touching you, Lula is!

In TBB S1E1 Wrecker whacked Lula several times in Crosshair‘s face and I‘m sure it wasn’t for the first time. So here is cadet Wrecker, grating Crosshair by touching him with stuffie Lula. The latter tells his older brother to stop -- not a chance! And technically, it’s only Lula who touches Cross.

It‘s been such a long time since I’ve last drawn something. And when I looked at Summer of Bad Batch prompts, I was internally debating, if I should try it.

Me: Hey, look at all those entries! So many awesome ideas. Why not draw something too? It looks fun.

Also me: Maybe later. I‘m not feeling up to it.

And it only took me the whole summer and early September to finally grab my pencil and become active for a turn. Played with a filter afterwards so that the colors appear more washed out like on one of those old instant photos.

It’s simple and I like it. And it feels good to draw something without pressuring myself to make an outstanding creation. Self-pressure often kills that little motivation I have.

(Funny fact, this is the first time I created some fanart for TBB series.)

Inspiration

I got inspired by @locitapurplepink's

and the last two seconds from High Ground Animation‘s "CLONES - The Clone Wars Fan Animation Compilation". That eye-roll is so good.

(Seriously, when I first watched the clip, I didn’t realized it was fan-made. I thought, I can‘t remember that particular cutout, where in the TCW series is it?)

Aaand that wraps it up. Thank you for dropping by.

[rottenpumpkin13]

I mean if you really think about it. Technically Chadley is kind of Sephiroth's little brother

Anon you are so right. Unfortunately we don't have it it canon, but highlights of their sibling bond would include:

• Sephiroth frequently gifting Chadley toys and other trinkets he himself was deprived of during childhood because he wants to make sure Chadley doesn't go through that. Chadley has more Lego sets and two-person games than he knows what to do with.

• Chadley going to Sephiroth for real world advice and getting trolled in grand older brother fashion.

Chadley: I think I may have romantic feelings for Professor Hojo's new intern.

Sephiroth: How so?

Chadley: Whenever I'm around her, I have heart palpitations, my vision blurs, I become sweaty and my speech is slurred.

Sephiroth: You've just described a stroke.

Chadley:

Sephiroth: You can have the same symptoms by consuming a double bacon cheeseburger.

Chadley:

Sephiroth: Which is much more fulfilling than romance, in my opinion.

• While researching "ways brothers bond," Chadley found funny videos of siblings jump scaring each other. He now frequently hides behind corners, donning a scary mask or fake blood, to scare Sephiroth. He finds it hilarious when Sephiroth gasps and clutches his heart. Sephiroth, in turn, isn't sure when he'll ever stop pretending to be scared, but he doesn't care. He likes seeing Chadley happy.

• Chadley steals Sephiroth's music taste, much to Hojo's chagrin, since the kid likes to blast the heavy metal and obscure goth music in the labs.

• Stealing each other's food.

*They're walking when Chadley's shoelaces come undone*

Chadley: Hold my sandwich for me please.

Sephiroth: Sure.

*Chadley bends down to tie his shoes. When he stands up, his sandwich is gone*

Chadley: I told you to hold it!

Sephiroth: I'm holding it in my stomach.

• Chadley uses social media for researching/ mimicking "sibling behavior" and likes to replicate things he sees. This is how he ended up on a "fun ways to annoy your brother" video. Sephiroth now gets sprayed with water—like a cat—at random when he's trying to rest.

• Chadley's excited rambling about materia and his research is never reprimanded by Sephiroth, who listens happily, remembering how he wished he had someone to listen to him gush about his interests when he was a child.

• Chadley is helping Professor Hojo assess Sephiroth in the labs. When Hojo's back is turned, Charley socks Sephiroth in the arm. Sephiroth, annoyed, punches him right back. Hojo turns around right as Chadley gets punched.

Hojo: Honestly Sephiroth. I expected better from you.

Sephiroth: But he hit me first.

Chadley: He bullies me constantly, Professor.

Sephiroth: !?

• When the labs feel suffocating or Professor Hojo is being particularly difficult, Chadley likes to escape to the 49th floor and use Sephiroth's office as a quiet spot. Sephiroth isn't always there, but when he is he makes sure to distract Chadley and give him the attention he needs. Eventually Sephiroth gives him a spare access card to his apartment if Chadley ever needs it.

• This later evolves into sleepovers.

• They constantly take advantage of their height difference—Chadley through piggyback rides and Sephiroth through fun methods of discipline.

*Lazard walks by Sephiroth's office and sees Sephiroth sitting on Chadley*

Lazard: What in Shiva's name are you doing??

Sephiroth: I caught him trying to go to Wall Market.

Chadley: It's for RESEARCH.

Sephiroth: Clearly he's at the age where he needs to be monitored lest he falls victim to recreational drugs and gang activity.

Chadley: I was just going to conduct a survey! GET OFF ME!

Sephiroth: Struggling will do nothing but amuse me.

• Not even Sephiroth is safe from your little sibling stealing your stuff.

*Chadley walks in with a shiny device in his hand*

Sephiroth: Is that my transmuter?

Chadley: No.

Sephiroth: It says Sephiroth on the back.

Chadley: No it doesn't.

Sephiroth: Chadley, I'm looking right at it.

Chadley: So? You don't even use it.

Sephiroth: Just because I don't regularly use something doesn't mean you can take it without permission.

Chadley: Hm. I guess I should probably give this back.

*Chadley places Masamune on the table*

Sephiroth: HOW—?

• Other SOLDIERs and troopers on missions with Sephiroth have reported seeing his face "light up" whenever he gets a call from Chadley.

[sittiytaart]

I feel like Sua's sisters also impacted how Sua see a family dynamic ngl. Anyhow, my take on IvanSua Siblingism:

Ivan will always care more about Sua than she ever will for him, but it's a bit complicated and a lot of it is just vibes coming from my own perspective with my disconnect between me and my older brother

I imagine sometimes she reflects how her own big sister acted to her with Ivan, as his own — sort one-sided but technically not really — big sister. It's not as warm or biting

Ivan tends to devalue how much he matters to people, to be an all watching onlooker like his eyes. He has some words about Sua willingly going to sacrifice herself even knowing it would traumatize Mizi, especially since he envies how their love is fullt requited and so tender [Also a smidge of him not wanting her to DIE]. But he wishes he was nicer to her before she died

It's just a messy unspoken relationship, to be acquainted with someone so far away from you yet sometimes you see them step their toes unto being familiar with you is appalling and well a target for caution. Plus she don't like how he speaks to her and how he's highkey kinda annoying too

The idea of siblings and family to Sua is so dullied due her sister's bullying her. So her having that kind of relationship with Ivan is so impossible and a all consuming tide that is left unattended due to their personalities and how they were brought up

The only semi-cute hc I have is if Ivan stopped bothering her for a while she'd at first be relieved but eventually feel like something is very missing and wrong. When Ivan returns to his normal antics she'd sigh both a sigh of relief and "here we go again" wondering why the hell she was bothered by it at all for that short moment of peace

I might add more to this but this is all I can say about it until I can figure out, since they kinda sit next to eachother and most of the turmoil of their relationship is going on their minds