#sorry i am so grumpy about this this morning but goddamn all i have seen on my dasb

[singwhenyoucantspeak]

i actually do not care about anything they said about agatha in interviews. i care about what was actually on screen. when are show creators going to start putting the actual story on my screen again. and if what was on the screen *was* the story then why wont they shut up about the rest of it and leave it to the viewers imagination. if they want to further explore things in another spin off then go *do* that! but stop talking about all of it. and i hate how obsessed fandom is w word of god. like i get its interesting to know what the creator "actually" meant to imply when its not explored on screen but at some point we gotta let go of what the "actual" intention was and let the show just exist as it is.

[unknwnxquantity]

I love when the Hispanic ladies at my one job be like “Buenos Dias chica!” Like yes!! I am a chica!! Or a “hi mami/mama”. And I’ll be like Buenos diassss como Estas and they’re like bien y tu and I’m like bien gracias! I used to only say “good morning” but I told them I wanna learn Spanish! I’m trying more now than I did before. But I don’t wanna look silly so sometimes I’ll revert to “good morning” but I try to make the effort to say something in Spanish. I want to be connected more to my roots goddamn it! They’re so cute tho. They’re very clique-ish (there’s some that are grumpy and mean so I don’t say anything to them. I’ve tried!! They’re just standoffish), and they all love to eat together whenever they can, they hug and kiss each other on the cheek sometimes when they greet each other. They hold the other persons arm or have them close to them almost lovingly sometimes too when they’re greeting. It’s cute to witness. There’s this one Hispanic woman at the one job in particular who I’d used google translate with to talk to since we worked in the same area together, as she’s learning English and I’m trying to learn how to say Spanish phrases and understand. She really appreciated that I’d talk with her and try to include her in conversations. We all do, but the other yt ppl just only speak English at her, try to show they’re joking to include her, while I tried more to get to know her and ask questions about her life. She felt safe with me. She came from Educador? Honduras? Fuck I’m sorry😭 six months back. Her dad passed when they got to the US. So she’s been on her own. I remember her first day, we didn’t know where to put her, and one of the Hispanic lady’s was being a jerk (the jerk in question actually looks like my grandma in the face a little, it’s weird… she was standoffish with me too but now she’s warmed up to me) and translating to her we didn’t want her with us on the truck. She started crying :(( we all felt bad. The other coordinator who’s older than me started crying too bc she felt bad for making Maria feel bad. But she knows now we love her in the back and she’s amazing to work with. She would tell me every now and then when we’d have our google translate convos, that I have a beautiful heart and soul. I’d tell her I think the same of her and I’m glad I met her. Now she works later shifts bc of her other jobs she had to pick up, so I haven’t seen her in a couple weeks :(( miss her. At first most of the Hispanic ladies were cold toward me when I first started working. A lot of people were cold actually and most are middle aged it’s kinda weird. I guess it’s just the times we live in now. But also they were probably like “what is that thing, what do we call it😭😭 she’s a girl, but she’s strong like a guy” since I work in the back and carry stuff. I carry myself more masculine. People never know if I’m a guy or a girl sometimes, it’s pretty funny. Adds to the mystery. I’m androgynous looking and I like it that way, but at the end of the day, I am just a little girl in this big scary world.

I get called bro boss man sir brother… you name it I’ve been called it. Especially when I worked in the city. At times I just sigh and walk away, or say nothing. It messed with my mental health for a while. Even tho I wanted to be a guy when I was younger, and now that I am comfortable being a girl, but bc I look like this masculine woman, I’ll always get confused ppl here and there. I hate going into public bathrooms especially when I’m alone. But then I just walk a little more feminine 🤣 Especially when I have a mask on. I’ll just take it off. Omg a few weeks ago a Hispanic security guard man unironically called me papi at the dmv (I didn’t have a mask on). That was a canon event for me😭😭 I was like …. So I look like a papi huh 👁️🫦👁️

[ameliora-j]

And I've been thinking about the HC with Hotch where you said he'd ask :“who the fuck do you think you’re talking to like that?” when Princess gets an attitude with him and I'm feral okay 😭 what would lead up to that?

oh i am so so glad you asked bc i’ve been HOPING to elaborate

content: mean dom!hotch, sub!fem!reader, choking, spitting, age gap (reader is in their 20’s), 18+ only!

you had been on edge, frustrated all week. with work and grad school assignments on top of that, and you had barely seen aaron lately due to both of your busy schedules. you had a final paper coming up, and you were sitting in his home office writing it up. 50 pages, double spaced, droning on and on and on about the legal analysis of the key goals of the constitution of the united states and how it conflicts with today’s law practices and blah blah blah blah blah.

your head was pounding with a migraine and the words on your paper had become blurred. you were near tears as the burnout was slowly creeping it’s way up your neck and into the back of your head. you took a deep breath, rolled your neck and sighed as you stretched, cracking your back. you heard a gentle tap on the door and then the creaking of the hinges as it opened. “hey, sweetheart? it’s nearly 1am… you almost done?” aaron asks softly as he peeks his head through the door.

“not even close” you mumble, not looking away from your laptop where you were currently restarting the paragraph you were on for the umpteenth time in a row.

he frowns at that, stepping over and gently stroking your hair. “do you want to take a break?” he asks, to which you shake your head. “okay hun, i’ll check back in a while” he leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead.

that night, you don’t climb into bed beside him until 3am. his alarm goes off at 5:30, and you wake with him. while he gets ready for work, you go to his home office and start up again on your report. you’re grumpy now, and even more frustrated both due to your lack of sleep.

you don’t mean to.. truly, you don’t. but you take it out on aaron. he calls to you, asking where his things are, as he usually does in the morning, while you call replies back, focusing on your laptop. he’s nearly ready when he pops his head into the door. “hey sweetheart, have you seen my gucci tie?” he prompts gently “the blue silk one that you got me for my last birthday?”

it’s what causes you to snap. it was such a simple question, and you felt so bad about it, but you’re emotions were on high right now. “i don’t fucking know aaron, have you ever considered opening your goddamn eyes and fucking looking for it? i’m not your damn mother nor am i the keeper of your belongings. you’re a big boy, so figure it the fuck out and quit bothering me!” you shout.

aaron is stunned, his eyebrows are raised as he looks at you in both shock and concern. he slowly walks over, his dress shoes clicking against the hardwood as he approaches. he’s silent as he spins the chair so that you’re facing him. you’re ready to snap again, but before you have a chance to make even a sound, his right hand it wrapping tightly around your throat and you’re letting out a quiet moan. “who the fuck do you think you’re talking to like that?” he growls lowly, raising a challenging brow.

all your words die on your tongue and your attitude immediately dissipates as you pout up at him. “i’m sorry daddy…” you whisper quietly, to which he nods.

“there’s my good girl. for a second i was worried i’d have to spank her out of you” he hums. he leans over your body and your mouth opens on instinct, allowing his spit to trail from his mouth and down onto your tongue. “let’s try that again, shall we?” he hums. you’re nodding along dumbly as he speaks, and he smiles at how quickly he was able to turn his smart law student into a dumb, brainless, wordless princess.

“sweetheart…” he begins in that low, taunting voice that never fails to make your thighs clench. “have you seen my gucci tie? the blue silk one that you got me for my last birthday?” he prompts once more with a cocky smile.

“it’s in the toy drawer from the last time you used it to tie me up, sir” you whisper softly. he smiles, still holding your throat as he leans down to press a gentle kiss to your lips.

“thank you pretty girl” he whispers softly. “now,” he hums, reaching behind you, making sure to save your work before he closes his laptop. “i’m going to call my team, and tell them all not to come in until 12. and you’re gonna come with me, and we’re going to go back to sleep, okay?” he whispers.

“but i-“ you begin to argue, but he’s squeezing your throat tighter and you’re moaning.

“it wasn’t a question” he says lowly. it’s the voice that never fails to turn you to mush and make you do whatever he says.

“yes, sir” you whisper, and within seconds you’re standing and allowing aaron to tug you towards the bedroom as he calls the team to let them know they don’t have to come in until later.

don’t worry, he fixes the puddle in your panties before pulling you into his naked chest and letting you fall asleep on top of him ;)

[zodiyack]

Rude! (3,000+ Follower Fic Special 1/3)

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Female!Hopper!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, Billy stuff, lyrics, fluff

Song: Rude by Magic!

Words: 1,798

Summary: Billy's love for Hopper's daughter is too strong to be stopped by the tough Chief Jim Hopper. Despite being told "not in a thousand years", he plans to love her regardless.

Note: Thank you so so much! I love you all, and writing your ideas, as well as sharing mine with you, has been so fucking fun and amazing! I'm sorry for my lack of words, I wish being an author came in handy with writing this, however, all I can say is that I love you all from the bottom of my heart. I've seen people do shout-outs, and ask-related stuff with their follower things, and I may do that, I'm not sure. For now, I hope you enjoy this... Thank you all, again!

Also 1/3 means that there will be two other fics released for the 3,000+ follower present!

Taglist: @urie-bowie-mercury, @matth1w, @redspaceace-writes, @fandom-puff, @darling-i-read-it, @simonsbluee, @sebastianstanslefteyebrow, @dpaccione

Masterlist | Stranger Things Masterlist

"Saturday morning, jumped out of bed and put on my best suit. Got in my car and raced like a jet all the way to you. Knocked on your door with my heart in my hands, to ask you a question, 'cause I know that you're an old-fashioned man. Yeah."

Billy was freshly graduated, working as a lifeguard whilst his girlfriend worked her own job, both saving up for their chance to ditch Hawkins and move to California. Sweet Cali. Billy was excited to show the love of his life around the place he called home. Though, physically, he left the salty ocean and windy beach behind, the place never truly left him.

You could see it in his eyes. The waves crashing in his blue orbs. He swore the scent had just barely clung to his belongings; the smell of the tangy air that followed a majority of the state. Working at a pool was the closest he got to the memory of California. Chlorine was most certainly not the salted ocean waters, but with the circumstances, he decided it'd do.

The way his face lit up whenever he talked about his home...it made Y/n more and more excited to see it. His girlfriend had grown up in Hawkins, stayed there her whole life. Never once did the Hoppers leave Hawkins.

But the second that was introduced to Billy, he knew it had to change.

Although they were saving for a big move, Billy had...other things in mind with what to do with his first large pay-check (or series, rather. Working as a lifeguard didn't pay well with just one check). He began to work more shifts to make up for the money he'd spent, and one day after calling in for a day off, he decided to put his plan into action.

"Billy, stop messing with the tie."

"It's annoying." Hands slapped away his attempts of adjusting the black silk tie.

"Well it won't stop being annoying if you keep fucking it up."

For the first time in a long time, Neil Hargrove was calm. Not happy, not amused, not pissed off for some unjust reason- just calm. He wasn't wreaking havoc and he wasn't being an asshole to his son. Billy hadn't seen this side of his dad in quite some time, in fact, he thought something important was going on and he was about to fuck it all up. And then, Susan retreated to the living room with a camera and a freshly ironed suit.

"You're not putting me in that."

"And who asked for your opinion?" Neil deflected with a raised brow. One heavy sigh later and Billy was leaving the bathroom, dawning the whole black and white getup.

Susan clasped her hands over her mouth, a tear leaving her eye, "You look so handsome! Just like your dad!"

Billy rolled his eyes, "Great."

However, his careless attitude was swept under the rug when the blue Camaro pulled up to the police station, interrupting a clearly distressed Chief Hopper bickering with his daughter. Billy had to get himself together before stepping out of the car, jaw slack after seeing the beauty he got to call his date.

"Hello Mr-"

"Don't even try play nice with me, Hargrove. She's not going anywhere with you. End of story." Hopper kept his eyes trained on the blond, body tense like a snake preparing to strike it's prey.

Y/n grabbed Billy's arm, slowly directing him to the car, "And in the sequel, we find out I am going with Billy. End of that story."

"There is no 'sequel.' The writer got drunk and lazy." She paused, turning to face her father who stood tall, arms crossed and face unamused.

"So his daughter picked up where her father left off, and then the sequel was published and the two lived happily ever after, the end."

While her dad attempted to search for a line that would better hers and force her to stay, she pushed Billy toward the driver's side and slid into the car as fast as she could, rolling down the window as Billy started it up. "Bye! I'll be back before midnight!"

The two drove off toward the school, leaving behind a trail of dust and very, very, pissed off Hopper.

Prom was better than Billy thought it would be. He didn't want to go at first, but after Max found out and spoke to her mom about it (the little redhead a cupid-in-the-making), Neil pushed him to go (as he was "doing something else besides being a lazy-no-good rebel"). It was then that he called Y/n and asked if she'd be going.

The suit came in handy. Clashing with his rocker aesthetic, he put it back on once more. The once-annoying tie proved to be somewhat okay in the end.

Can I have your daughter for the rest of my life? Say yes, say yes, 'cause I need to know. You say I'll never get your blessing "till the day I die, tough luck my friend, but the answer is no!"

Why you gotta be so rude? Don't you know I'm human too? Why you gotta be so rude? I'm gonna marry her anyway. Marry that girl, marry her anyway! Marry that girl, yeah, no matter what you say! Marry that girl, and we'll be a family! Why you gotta be so rude?

With a deep breath, he ran-over the conversation in his head once more. Like a script for an actor, he had thought of every possible outcome and every possible line for him to face it with. He almost chickened out as his fist rose to the door, but it was too late, for his knuckles rapped against it before he realized he was even knocking.

El opened the door, eyes wide when she saw the familiar mullet and button-down. "Papa..." She muttered as she backed away and out of view.

Hopper traded places with her, his lazy expression sobering up instantaneously, replaced with a grumpy scowl. "Hargrove."

"Mr. Hopper, sir."

"What are you doing on my front porch?"

He swallowed roughly, palms sweaty against his sides. "I was wondering if I could talk to you."

"You seem to be doing just that right now, Hargrove." Hop crossed his arms and clenched his jaw.

Well, this was certainly not something Billy had thought of. He was on panic mode internally, attempting to find any response that could save his hide and accomplish what he set out to do. Unfortunately, the word-vomit button seemed to be misplaced under the button labeled "help".

"I'd like to marry your daughter, sir."

Hop's eyes grew just as big in size as El's had when she opened the door. He choked on his own surprise, coughing it off, then glaring at the boy in front of him. "Over my dead body, Hargrove. If that's all, I'd strongly advise you to get off of my fucking porch while you're still alive."

I hate to do this, you leave no choice; can't live without her. Love me or hate me, we will be boys- standing at that alter. And we will fly away, to another galaxy, you know. You know she's in love with me, she will go anywhere I go-

"Billy, he's just stubborn."

"No, no, I don't think he likes me."

Y/n sighed, rubbing her boyfriend's back. He hadn't told her of his proposal plans, only that Hop seemed to have it out for him. "It'll take time, but he'll warm up to you!"

"It's been how many years since he's met me?"

"To be fair, your reputation wasn't doing you any good until now..."

"It's not like that was fucking obvious." He slouched further down in the front seat of his Camaro. To Billy, all hope was lost. If he couldn't get Hopper to give him his blessing, he was sure he'd lose his goddamned mind.

Y/n frowned. Her frown flipped around as an idea popped into her head, her lips finding Billy's knuckles and quirking his attention. "Even if he never likes you, I'm not going anywhere."

Billy laughed softly, "he'll fucking kill me if you go against him."

"Eh, that's only if he can catch us."

"You're out of your fucking mind, Y/n Hopper."

"I know."

The rest of the night was spent in the Camaro, of course, doing one of Billy's favorite pastimes. By the time the sun rose, Billy was sneaking a kiss to a giggling Y/n before dropping from her window in the cabin and running to his car, parked far enough that Hop or El wouldn't notice. He blew her one more kiss, which she pretended to catch, then he broke into a sprint.

Maybe, he thought, just maybe; there was still a chance.

His knuckles hit the door again, shifting on his feet nervously. It swung open to reveal Hopper, an unimpressed look bringing no surprise Billy's way. It was quite expected, honestly.

"What." His tone made it clear he wasn't up for fucking around.

"Mr. Hopper, if you just give me one chance to prove to you that-"

"No, no, no, no, no. Let me make it very clear to you that I want you to have nothing to do with my daughter whatsoever. No marriage, no friendship, I don't even approve of you guys fucking or whatever-"

"We're in a serious relationship, sir. It's nothing like you think it is."

This made Hop laugh. He continued to do so, holding his stomach, until he realized Billy was unamused. "Oh, you're serious?... My answer is still no, Hargrove. My answer will always be no. Go find someone else's daughter's heart to break. You're not hurting mine."

"It's not like-"

Before he could even get the words out, he was met with a door in his face. Turned down, again.

Can I have your daughter for the rest of my life? Say yes, say yes, 'cause I need to know. You say I'll never get your blessing "till the day I die, tough luck my friend, 'cause the answer's still no!"

Why you gotta be so rude? Don't you know I'm human too? Why you gotta be so rude? I'm gonna marry her anyway. Marry that girl, marry her anyway! Marry that girl, yeah, no matter what you say! Marry that girl, and we'll be a family! Why you gotta be so rude, rude?

Again, again, and again, Billy incessantly pleaded with Hopper. Different tactics were all met with the same answer; rejection.

He held up a sign outside the cabin, only for Hopper to close the curtain and chuckle as he sipped his coffee.

He asked at the door again, only for Hop to threaten to give him a black eye (which was met with "aren't you the sheriff? Isn't that illegal?").

He raced past the police station, Max leaning out the window with another sign, only for Hop to threaten them with holding cells.

He even went as far as to ask Max and El to help, but Hopper had none of that, and sent Max home with a rant full of nos.

However, if Jim Hopper thought any of it would get it into Billy's head that getting his blessing was just not happening- he was as wrong as Nancy when she claimed not to have feelings for Jonathan.

Billy had another plan in mind, and this one was impossible to say no to.

Can I have your daughter for the rest of my life? Say yes, say yes, 'cause I need to know. You say I'll never get your blessing "till the day I die, tough luck my friend- but no still means no!"

"Hopper." Billy stood before his desk, interrupting his nice date with a delicious doughnut, and earning a very annoyed glare. "I got Miss Byer's blessing. Aren't you two a thing?"

"You son of a-"

"I got Eleven's too."

"Hargrove, I'm gonna-"

"Before you cuss me out, I think you should know that I've got a stable job, an interview with a mechanic so I have a job when the pool closes for the winter, and I've got a house on the market I'm looking at. I'm devoted to your daughter and she's devoted to me. You may not like me, but I think you're a great dad, better than the one I was unfortunately stuck with. You raised a strong and amazing woman. She's incredible and I admit, she deserves better than me-"

"You don't have to say that twice." Hopper huffed, crossing his arms.

"I know she deserves so much better than me, I'm surprised she's even with me too. But she loves me, and I think you can see that. I love her too. I would never, in a million years, break her heart."

Jim stayed silent for a few minutes. The silence brought uneasiness to Billy, but that was intentional on Hopper's behalf. He finally piped up with a cough, clearing his throat, before his piercing eyes met Billy's blue orbs.

"I'll hold you to that, Hargrove."

Why you gotta be so rude? Don't you know I'm human too? Why you gotta be so rude? I'm gonna marry her anyway. Marry that girl, marry her anyway! Marry that girl, yeah, no matter what you say! Marry that girl, and we'll be a family! Why you gotta be so rude? Why you gotta be so rude?

Bonus:

(after the wedding)

"What was that about a no?" Billy quipped with his infamous smirk.

"You're lucky I'm sheriff, Hargrove."

Why you gotta be so rude?

[fruitcoops]

Remus gets injured in a game. I have literally read everything you have written but i'm not sure if you have wrote one like this. If you have, ANOTHER PLZZ

Hello anon! I wove this together with a couple different prompts, listed below:

1. Coops argument

2. Prompt 21: “You need to eat something”

3. Remus gets in a fight with Snape

4. Protective Sirius

5. Coops going home grumpy after losing a game (see link)

Sweater Weather credit goes to @lumosinlove! TW for fights, blood, bruises, arguments, and someone getting called a wh*re

Snape’s cheek gave easily beneath Remus’ fist, which was a tad bit surprising. He wrapped his other hand in the neckline of his jersey, yanking him back in to land another punch to the side of his head—that would leave a nasty bruise in the morning. Stars sparkled in his vision as Snape got a lucky shot in and he doubled down, ignoring the thin line of pain that trickled down his chin.

“Break it up, boys, that’s enough!” The referee’s whistle blew as he and another pried Remus’ hands off Snape’s jersey; someone took him by the shoulders and pushed him away from the fight. Pots.

“Say it again!” Remus shouted at Snape as the refs and their teammates continued pulling them apart. “Say it again and I’ll knock your fucking teeth in!”

James’ hold on him faltered for a second as another person skated over and tried to join the melee. “Cap, no!”

“Move, Pots.”

“Loops won the fight, it’s done. Let’s just keep playing.” James shoved both their chests hard enough to send them back a few inches, but Remus’ blood boiled as he ground his mouthguard between his teeth. He glanced up at the clock—3:16 left in the third, Snakes up by two. Their win was almost guaranteed and Snape was still pulling this bullshit.

He skated quickly over to the bench and mumbled his thanks to Hestia as she pressed some gauze to his lip and ice to his cheek. “Lupin, you’re in for the rest of the game,” Coach Weasley said, tapping him on the arm with his playboard. “Anything broken?”

“No, Coach.”

“Then get your ass back out on the ice and score some points. We need some speed.”

He could feel the fury rolling off Sirius as they wove through the Snakes’ defense, shooting again and again to no avail. Frustration built up in every nerve—he was worried about the win, of course, but mostly he was pissed. Pissed at Snape, pissed at James for pushing him, and pissed at Sirius for butting into the fight.

Remus scored a final goal just as the buzzer sounded. Hissing filled the stadium, even though it was a home game. Snape smirked at him as he skated past and the only thing keeping him from dragging him right back in by his greasy hair was the possible suspension.

The shower was cold, because of course the fucking shower was cold. Remus shoved his stuff in his duffel and waited outside the locker room, silently fist bumping the guys as they left. God, he hated losing games. It was inevitable, but it always felt shitty.

“How’s the lip?” Sirius asked when he finally came out, bag slung over his shoulder.

“Fine. What the fuck was that?”

“What was what?”

“You butted into my fight. Nobody asked you to.”

Sirius’ eyebrows rose. “Re, he called you—”

“Yeah, I know what he called me,” Remus snapped, practically slamming the door to the parking lot closed. “I was there.”

The only reason you’re on this team is because you’re the captain’s whore, Snape had sneered. He bit the inside of his cheek as his anger flared at the memory. “I was just trying to help,” Sirius grumbled.

“Well, you didn’t. You proved his fucking point.”

“I didn’t prove shit!” Sirius scoffed as they got in the car. Immediately, Remus felt claustrophobic.

“I had it handled, Sirius!”

“You’re still bleeding!”

Remus ran his tongue along his lip—sure enough, the salty tang of blood filled his mouth. He swore under his breath and held his sleeve to his lip; his cheekbone throbbed and he knew it would be swollen in mere hours.

“Here.”

“I don’t need that.”

“You’d rather stain your sleeve than accept a tissue from me?”

“It’s a black sweatshirt, it’s fine.” Sirius muttered something. “Care to share with the class?”

Sirius sighed as he turned off the freeway. “I said it was your idea to keep these here in the first place. I don’t know why you’re being all pissy with me. We’ve lost games before.”

“I’m pissed because you don’t think I can handle myself in a fight.”

Sirius took his eyes off the road for a half second in shock. “Excuse me? Why do you think that?”

“I just told you!” Remus said, exasperated. “Snape was being a dick, so I punched him. I didn’t need your hero complex to swoop in and save the day.”

“Re, I didn’t even get a hand on him. Pots—”

“Oh, I’m pissed at him as well,” Remus snorted, staring out the passenger window at the blurry lights against the dark. “If someone calls me a whore, I’d rather get the message across that they can’t do it again.”

“Would you rather have gotten a penalty?”

“Yes.”

“That is unbelievably selfish.”

Remus laughed without humor. “Y’know, it’s really funny that you’ve never had this conversation with Logan, the king of the penalty box. Is it because he’s not a delicate flower like me?”

“Wh—” Sirius clenched his jaw and took a deep breath. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, Remus. I have never seen you as a—a delicate flower. For your information, I have chewed Logan out on multiple occasions.”

Remus gritted his teeth and trained his gaze firmly out the window. He heard Sirius sigh next to him and it took every ounce of willpower to keep his composure. The next ten minutes were dead silent and deeply uncomfortable, which was a rarity with them; even after losses, they would talk through the errors or try to lighten the mood.

Both of them closed their doors a little harder than necessary when they got to the house and Hattie trotted over hesitantly when they came inside. “Hey, Hatters,” Remus murmured, crouching down to her level and holding a hand out. She licked his cheek and let him bury his face in her thick fur—Sirius scratched her ears as he walked past. “Did you have a good time while we were out? Huh, baby girl?” He looked up and saw the tail end of Sirius’ eye roll. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t bullshit me, Sirius, it doesn’t work. I’m giving the dog a hug because I’m still pissed at you.”

“There is literally no good reason for you to be pissed at me!” Sirius finally said, tossing his keys into the bowl by the door. “Holy shit, Re, I don’t even think you’re mad at me!”

“Oh, yeah? Then who am I mad at, oh great and wise captain?” Remus practically spat, shouldering past him into the kitchen and wrenching a cabinet open. “Please enlighten me.”

“I wish I knew!”

Remus slammed the bread down on the counter and glared at him. “Then maybe you should shut the fuck up if you don’t have anything to support your claim.”

“Acting like this is a goddamn debate club isn’t helping. Your lip is bleeding again.”

“Fuck.” Remus ripped a paper towel off the roll and dampened it, holding it to his lip with a wince. Sirius opened the freezer and dug around for a moment with another paper towel. “I don’t remember you getting hit.”

“This is for you, you stubborn fucker,” Sirius said as he walked over and pressed it gently to the side of Remus’ face. “Better?”

“…a bit.”

The tension on Sirius’ face began to fade; he just looked concerned as he pulled the ice away and checked the bruise. “Your eye might swell.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you actually want to talk now, or should we yell a little more?”

Remus sighed and felt his anger abate. He was beyond exhausted, and still upset, but having Sirius nearby was like balm on a burn. “I don’t know.”

“I’m going to make some sandwiches. Hold this.” Sirius tapped the ice towel and moved to the abandoned loaf, grabbing some peanut butter and jelly as he went.

“I’m not hungry.”

“You need to eat something.”

“I’m fine.”

Sirius glanced over his shoulder and gave him a look. “I know you, Re. You’re not going to feel better unless you get some food, and neither will I.”

“I hate it when you’re reasonable.”

“No, you don’t.”

Remus’ lack of response was enough of an answer. The pain stretched to his forehead and he grimaced, prodding his lip cautiously. Sirius whistled for Hattie and spread the leftover peanut butter from the knife onto a clean spoon, holding it down for her to lick. A smile tugged the corner of Remus’ mouth. “Cute.”

“I can be cute on occasion.”

“You’re always cute.” There was a beat of quiet. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re forgiven. I’m sorry for yelling.”

“Not for interrupting the fight?”

“Nope.”

“That’s fair.” Something tickled at the back of Remus’ throat. “I fucking hate Snape.”

“Me, too.”

“Surprisingly enough, it feels pretty shitty to be called a whore. Who would’ve thought?”

Sirius turned and faced him, sleeves rolled to his elbows. His eyes were soft. “You know that’s not true, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Remus. What he said wasn’t true. You have nothing to prove to anyone on the team, least of all to me. You earned that spot on the roster fair and square, and Snape’s just freaked out because there’s another player who could grind him into the dust without breaking a sweat.” He stepped closer and leaned on the counter next to Remus, leaving a few inches between them. “I don’t think you’re a whore, if that means anything.”

Remus laughed softly. “Of all the people out there, I think you’re the only one who could reliably make that assumption.”

Sirius didn’t smile. “You’re my best friend and also my fiancé. The sex is a great bonus, but my favorite part of being with you is just being with you.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Remus muttered, though the sharp edges began to smooth in his gut. He closed the distance between them and laid his head on Sirius’ shoulder. “Love you.”

“I love you, too. Can I take a look at your lip?”

“Sure.” Remus peeled the towel away and Sirius bent slightly, poking the area around it. “Ouch.”

“That’ll probably take a week or so to heal. He got you good.”

Remus pouted. “No kisses for a week?”

Sirius did laugh that time, bright and sunny enough that Remus nearly made his lip bleed again with the answering smile. “I said nothing about no kisses.” Warm lips trailed from his unbruised cheekbone to the edge of his mouth, leaving tiny tingles in their wake.

“I really am sorry about what I said. You were right, I wasn’t angry with you, and I had no right to go off like that.”

Sirius shrugged. “It happens.”

“It shouldn’t.”

“Then let’s agree to talk first, bite heads off later, okay?” He held his pinky out and Remus linked it with his own, kissing it quickly.

“Deal. Are the sandwiches done? I’m starving.”

Wordlessly, Sirius handed him a sandwich and hopped up to sit on the counter, scooting over to make room for Remus to join him. They ate quietly, swinging their legs as the calmness of the kitchen crept back in once more.

[therealvalkyrie]

Painter’s Hands and Guatemalan Coffee: Part 1

on the inevitability of dating a frat bro

Pairing/setting: Levi Ackerman x Female!Reader, modern!college!AU

Summary: When you catch your idiot boyfriend cheating, your grumpy roommate is there to pick up the pieces and watch your back as you toe a carefully drawn line in the metaphorical sand

Word Count: 5.0k

Warnings: light angst, fluff, cheating, alcohol, swearing, minor injury

AN: So!! I am REALLY excited about this fic, but it’s the first AOT piece I’ve ever written and the first piece I’ve posted at all in a WHILE. As of now, it can stand on its own as a mainly platonic/unrequited Levi x reader, but I have big ideas for potential expansion in the future! Please don’t hesitate to reblog/comment/send in an ask with any suggestions, questions, or feedback!! ~valkyrie

Palms slap flat against the door of your apartment as you stumble the last few steps, barely catching yourself before your right ankle twists out from under you. Sharp pain shoots up your leg, and you know it’s gonna hurt like a motherfucker in the morning.

“Shitshitfuck ow,” you slur as you slide to the ground, back to the wall, short skirt bunching dangerously high on your thigh. Fumbling fingers go to the ankle strap of your right stiletto and pull fruitlessly on the ties. With a whine, you curse the forethought  you had to double knot the thin cord when you were getting ready to go out earlier in the evening. Your tongue sits heavy and dry in your mouth as you lean your head back against the wall and press palms against your eyes until stars swim into your vision.

How the fuck did I end up here? you think with a soft hiccup, and all of a sudden you’re crying again.

As you sit in your apartment hallway, drunk and distraught and slowly freezing from the outside in, you recall the events of the night. Getting ready with Hange for girls’ night, meeting up with Sasha and Hitch at the new bar across town. Downing shots and cocktails until the worries of the week melted away, dancing until your feet ached and your eyes stung. Seeing your boyfriend across the dance floor making out with another woman. Correction, seeing your boyfriend making out with your best friend. Correction, seeing your ex-boyfriend practically fucking your former best friend in the middle of the goddamned club-

With that image freshly burned into your mind, you let out a gut-wrenching sob followed by a tremendous sniffle just as the apartment door opens.

--

A soft thump echoing through the apartment jerks Levi out of his light sleep. It takes him a second to remember you went out to your girls’ night, glancing over at his alarm clock. 2:17 am, sounds about right.

He rolls over and readjusts his sheets around him, determined to go back to sleep. It’s not uncommon for you to spend your weekend out with friends all night, and he learned a while ago that you’re perfectly capable of getting yourself showered and into bed after a night out. That’s one of the things Levi likes about living with you: you generally know how to stay out of his hair, and he doesn’t find himself caught up in yours.

When Hange had introduced you to him at the end of last semester as a potential roommate, he had been hesitant. In his book, anyone Hange approved of was bound to be at least slightly off their rocker, but he had been hoping to sign a lease for the next school year before leaving town, and after meeting you he felt willing to take a chance. He told himself it was because of your stellar recommendations from former roommates and respectable credit score, but the smallest part of his mind admitted it was also because of your pretty hands and intelligent eyes. 

That day at his favorite tea shop when you had met up to sign the lease, he had asked you about your major and you had practically lit up with the way you spoke about the architecture degree you were pursuing. The pair of you had chatted all afternoon, discussing books and comparing experiences with professors in the art department. When you learned he was in the painting program at your university, you had grabbed one of his hands off the table in both of yours and examined it closely.

“You have painter’s hands,” you had proclaimed after a moment, turning his hand in yours and tracing the cracks in his palm lightly. “Just like my mom’s.”

Levi had simply sat there, stunned at how such a small gesture made his heart race and neck grow warm.

With a groan, Levi rolls back over in an effort to shake himself out of his turbulent thoughts. 2:19 glows green at him from his bedside table, and suddenly he’s struck with the realization that he hasn’t heard you actually come into the apartment, let alone close your bedroom door with your habitual sharp snap.

“Damn it to hell,” he mutters as he flicks on a beside lamp and stuffs feet into slippers. Careful to avoid knocking over the painting set to dry on the easel by his desk, he opens his bedroom door and hears the muffled sound of sobbing from the front door.

--

Levi stands in the doorframe in sweatpants and a loose t-shirt, poking his head out into the hall. For a moment, he can only stare. He’s never seen you like this before, utterly dejected, scatter-brained, small, so unlike the confident woman in the tea shop.

“You look like shit,” he says plainly, the barest hint of concern in his voice.

You keep your eyes downcast and weakly flip him off,  continuing to sob gently. At the lack of your usual backtalk, his expression slips from his usual impassivity to a sharp frown.

A delicate hand encircles your upheld wrist and you let it go limp in Levi’s grip as he crouches down next to you.

“Hey, hey, what happened? Are you hurt? Why are you crying?” His calm tone helps you focus your mind, and you manage to hiccup a response.

“G-god I’m an idiot,” you sniffle, and raise your eyes to barely meet his. His head is ducked to your level, and he’s crouching on the balls of his feet, one hand gripping your limp wrist and the other hesitantly reaching for your shoulder. “Just leave me out here to w-wallow, or better yet take me out with the t-trash, that’s obviously all I-I am,” you gesture vaguely at yourself.

“Did someone tell you that? That you’re trash?” Levi asks sharply, dipping his head with yours in an effort to maintain eye contact. 

Your bottom lip trembles and you sniffle again. Just under the delicate white noise of life, Levi can hear his heart break cleanly in two.

“It was more implied,” you supply weakly.

Levi sighs, then drops his hands and straightens up. 

“Alright, up you get.” He extends his hand, and you stare at it for a second before adjusting your bag on your shoulder and gripping his warm hand with your freezing one. A solid pull later, you find yourself balancing in your heels, Levi’s hand gripping your elbow and the other around your waist. You mumble a thanks, and attempt a step on your right foot towards the door. The traitorous ankle buckles again and you cry out as you stumble once more. But this time Levi’s there to catch you against his chest, now fully supporting you at the waist.

“Ah, I forgot,” you mutter into his shoulder.

“Tch,” he clicks, gently chastising, and in a second he’s scooped an arm under your knees to carry you into the apartment. Vaguely, you wonder at how coordinated he is as he kicks the door shut and nudges the light switch with his elbow. Pretty buff for an art major, you muse, with your head laying against his chest and arms looped around his neck. How pathetic is this, can’t even walk into my own home.

He nudges his way into your room and casts his gaze around in the ambient glow of your desk lamp. You can tell he’s holding himself back from commenting on the clothes strewn across the extra chair by your closet and the lipstick-stained coffee cup sat atop a pile of textbooks on your desk, and you look down in embarrassment. There’s a reason you keep your door closed most of the time. Despite the mess, he successfully navigates across to your bed and gently puts you down, arranging your pillows behind you to support your back before disappearing into the living room again.

You take a moment to wipe at your eyes, sigh self-pityingly, and slouch down into your soft bed, not caring that you’re still fully dressed. Not only did you catch your boyfriend cheating, but you managed to wake up your (usually grumpy) roommate, reveal to him how messy you actually were, and injure yourself in the space of half an hour. Just about a record.

The shrill ringing of your phone breaks into the silence. As you’re digging through your purse to pull it out, you remember with a sinking feeling that you didn’t even tell the girls you were leaving the club, let alone what happened. You slide a shaky finger across the screen to accept the call and put it to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Uhm, hello? Where the fuck are you?” Hange’s loud voice makes you wince and hold the phone slightly away from your face.

“Oh god, I’m sorry Hange, I went home. S-something happened and I, well I just called an Uber and didn’t even think,” you finish lamely.

“What happened? Did you get home safe? Did someone hurt you? I swear to god-”

“Hange, I-”

“-rat bastard bartender was eyeing you all night I could’ve guessed he’d try something-”

“Hange!” She stops short and allows you to speak. “I got home safe. Levi’s here. I’m not hurt, the bartender didn’t try anything, I… I’ll tell you everything tomorrow, okay?” You inject your tone with some bright optimism in an effort to assuage her panic. “Tell Sasha and Hitch not to worry, okay?”

Over her momentary silence on the other end of the line, you can hear traffic sounds and faint club music, as though she had stepped outside to call you. A strained sigh, then: “Okay. I’m glad you’re okay, but I’m still mad at you for not checking in before you left. Had me worried sick.”

“I know, I’m sorry, I’d be mad too. Can you swing by tomorrow? And I’ll explain everything?” Your hand rubs down your face and you close your eyes in a guilty grimace.

“Alright. I’ll see you tomorrow. Love you.”

“Love you, too.” The call ends and you drop your phone down onto your bed where it bounces gently away from you. 

When you open your eyes again, Levi is standing in the door holding a cup of tea, his other hand cupped around something, studying you with uncertainty. You sit up hesitantly against your headboard, surprised. You’d figured he went back to bed and left you to put yourself to bed as you usually did.

He crosses the room with his smooth gait, and in a moment, you feel two ibuprofen pressed into your palm and the mug of tea nudged into your other hand, your roommate gently prompting you to drink. He watches as you pop the pills and take a slow sip of the tea, smiling faintly when you recognize that it’s chamomile.

“Good.” He takes the mug and sets it aside on your bedside table. Pulling your desk chair up to the side of your bed, he sits, and leans over towards your feet.

His light fingers start to work on the knots in the ties of your shoes, and you can feel his voice rumble lightly as he says, “What happened, kid?”

You huff a laugh at the pet name, then consider where to begin. You decide straightforward is the best approach with someone like Levi.

“I saw Reiner and Annie at the club, sucking face in the middle of the dance floor. I thought he was at some quote unquote frat thing and she insisted she couldn’t come out to girls’ night because of some stupid group project. They didn’t even see me, I just turned around and left before I knew what I was doing. And poor Bertholdt, he probably has no clue what Annie’s been up to.” You take a shuddering breath and let out a choked sob, trying to stop the waterworks and unable to keep them at bay. “God, I’m such a spineless coward.”

“Hey.” Levi’s sharp tone startles your teary gaze to meet his eyes, which look practically murderous. He leans over to grasp your shoulders, warm hands scorching cool skin. “You are not a spineless coward. He is the goddamned spineless foolish bastard, and if I ever see his ugly mug I will wreck it so bad his own mother won’t be able to identify the body. As a matter of fact, that goes for Annie, too. Are we clear?”

You blink in shock before fully registering his words and nodding slowly. “Crystal.” Levi looks the most angry you’ve ever seen him, brow furrowed and mouth set determinedly.

“Good.” He returns his attention to your ankle. While you were talking, he had successfully untied and slipped your shoes off your swollen feet. “Now, let’s see what’s going on with your weak-ass foot.”

He spends a good minute poking and prodding and turning your ankle every which way in his grasp. “Does this hurt?” and “What about this way?” are answered with soft “no”s or a wince and a “yes”. His hands are practiced and intentional, and you briefly wonder how much experience he has with treating injuries. After a last gentle prod, he sets your foot back down on the bed.

“Well, it’s definitely not broken. It is swelling, though, and probably sprained. I’ll go see if we have an ace bandage or something.” He stands and moves to leave, but before he can get too far you gently grasp his forearm.

“Thank you, Levi.” Your voice is soft and sincere as you look up at him through curled and mascaraed eyelashes. “Thanks for picking me up off the floor and listening and taking care of me.”

Levi studies your tired face for a moment. The trails of mascara down your cheeks, a stray piece of glitter sitting on your cheekbone, lipgloss smudged on the left side. It seems as though his hand moves on its own, reaching out to stroke your cheek lightly, thumb gently brushing away the escaped glitter. He doesn’t miss the way your lashes flutter as you subconsciously lean into his touch. Finally, he tousles your hair with a hint of tenderness in his eyes.

“Tch. Don’t worry about it, kid.”

“I’m barely younger than you!”

“Whatever, brat.”

--

Levi is sitting at the kitchen table nursing a cup of tea and hunched over his laptop when you step out of your room late the next morning. Freshly showered, your hair curls delicately over your shoulders and the scent of peppermint body wash reaches his nose. He studies you for a moment. You’re wearing a loose sleep shirt, cotton shorts, and an oversized cardigan, and he can see where the ace bandage he found last night pokes out from under your fuzzy socks. Clearly, you’re planning to stay in today.

“G’morning,” you murmur, passing behind him to get to the kitchen. Your roommate grunts a greeting in response and takes a sip of tea in his odd overhanded way. You start your coffee routine, reaching for the French press and coffee grounds from a shelf and setting the kettle to boil on the stove. It’s grounding to go through the motions of a daily ritual after the emotional turmoil of last night. Or rather, the emotional turmoil of this morning. It had been hard to drag yourself out of bed before noon, and harder still not to crawl back into your warm sheets after a scalding shower. You steel yourself for the inevitable conversation as you measure out grounds, then finally turn and hop up to sit on the counter facing Levi when the only thing left to do is to wait for the coffee to brew.

“Sooooo,” you start in a long, drawn out syllable, leaning back on your hands.

His hands still on the keyboard and a quiet tension fills Levi’s shoulders before he turns his body fully towards you, resting a hand on the back of his chair. He doesn’t say a word, but his eyes are softer than they usually are when you interrupt his studying.

You take a deep breath. 

“So, uh, last night I was kind of a wreck and you were really sweet, and I just wanted to say thank you again and I’m sorry you had to witness that.” It’s said in a rush, and by some miracle you manage to maintain eye contact.

“Like I said, don’t worry about it. That’s what friends are for.” 

“I know, I know, I just-- it felt really nice to have someone, y’know, there after what, uhm, after what happened and I really was a mess I mean I must’ve looked so gross and I woke you up at like what? Two am? And you were just so steady and kind and I mean you even tucked me into bed for God’s sake--” you ramble on, the words falling over each other in your awkwardness. God, you idiot don’t you know when to shut the fuck up?? “--and I know how much you like it to be quiet at night and I really do try to--” 

Levi cuts you off when he stands fluidly from his seat and crosses the kitchen in two strides, entering your space and placing his hand over your mouth in the same motion. You look at him with wide eyes, suddenly breathing very oddly. The clean smell of paint thinner and black tea simultaneously clouds and calms your mind.

A beat, then: “Brat. Stop rambling, you’re welcome.” You study each others’ faces. Levi’s eyes are stern and steady as he looks up at you through elegantly disheveled bangs. To Levi, you look like a deer caught in headlights, all surprised eyes and warm cheeks. After a charged moment, he lets his hand drop and takes the smallest step backwards.

It takes your brain a second to reboot, then you’re fumbling over your words again. “Okay. Well, uhmm. Okay.”

“How’s your foot?” He glances down at the foot in question as if to check it’s still there, then back at you.

“It’s okay. Still hurts to walk on but I can handle it,” you manage to breathe out with the air left in your lungs.

“Good.” He nods once, then turns and sits back down at his laptop. He hears you huff half an incredulous laugh and slide down from the counter to pour your coffee. A shake of the head and a sip of tea later, his mind slips back into essay mode and away from the woman drilling holes in the back of his head with curious eyes.

--

“Hey baby!” You hear Reiner’s voice from the door as he pushes through it with his usual boisterousness. From your position at the kitchen table in front of your laptop, your back is to him and you allow yourself a moment to press your nails into the palm of your hand and steel your nerves before plastering a smile on your face. You stand up and turn to greet him, limping to meet him halfway from the door.

“Hey babe, come on in!” 

He winds an arm around your waist and pulls you in to peck you on the lips as usual, but you manage to subtly turn your head so it lands on your cheek instead. With the flash of an innocent smile as a coverup, you step out of his arms and make your way into the kitchen to set the kettle for coffee. “So, uh, how was your frat thing?”

He follows close behind you, completely oblivious, and cages you in with your back against the counter after you’re done at the stove. “Eh, it was alright. Got some new pledges, you know how it is.” He grins in the cocky way you fell for and leans farther into your space. You give a giggle and rest gentle hands on his chest, keeping him at a distance while feigning affection.

“Oh, sure. Busy night of fun, I’m sure.” Your tone is sickly sweet and you mentally grimace at yourself to take it down a notch. 

Fiddling absentmindedly with the collar of his shirt, you take a moment to mourn your relationship. While it’s about to end swiftly and brutally, you know that you will miss the security and warmth you had with Reiner in the beginning. You finally lean in to lay your head on his chest one last time, and your heart aches at the way he tenderly rests his chin on top of your head. The moment is broken by the kettle beginning to whistle and you gently push him away to go turn it off.

“How’re Hange and the girls?” He leans himself against the counter and watches as you bustle around the kitchen, preparing coffee as you usually do when he comes over. It’s one of the things the pair of you had initially bonded over, trying new beans and methods of brewing nearly every week. Recently, you had been using Guatemalan beans with notes of peach and candied almonds, a birthday gift from the cheating boyfriend himself.

As you measure out grounds into the French press, you maintain a cheerful disposition. This is it, you think. Don’t back down now.

“They’re doing great, we had so much fun! We went to that new bar on Oakland Street, I think it’s called like Stevie’s?” Of course it’s called Stevie’s, it had been all anyone could talk about since the new bar opened earlier in the semester.

“Oh, yeah, uhm I’ve heard good things, good things….” His voice has a nervous edge to it, and a glance in his direction confirms that he’s awkwardly rubbing his neck as he usually does when he has something to hide. 

You push on: “Yeah! I think you would totally love it! Very much your vibe. Anyway, we got absolutely plastered, to be honest I’m not even sure I remember how much I had to drink.” A pause for dramatic effect accompanied by a ditzy laugh. “But y’know, I do remember seeing one thing.” You carefully bloom the grounds before pouring the rest of the water in, focusing your gaze away from Reiner in order to keep your cool.

“Oh?”

You casually set the chicken shaped kitchen timer on the fridge to four minutes and adopt a thoughtful tone. “Yeah, I saw Annie there. Which was odd, because she told me that she had this huge group project to be working on. Guess she finished early. Oh, and you know what else I saw?”

“W-what?” A sharp turn away from the fridge reveals his increasingly nervous face to you

“I saw you there, too! Maybe you got so drunk at the “frat thing” you just don’t remember going, how funny is that?” You keep your voice light but find yourself unable to maintain a smile, your expression slipping into somewhere in between hurt and determined.

He shifts awkwardly on his feet and looks anywhere but your face, hand still rubbing the back of his neck. “Ahaha, really? Are you sure it was me, becau--”

“Oh, it was you. And do you know what you were doing?” This time, your voice is icier than the sidewalk in February after a week of sleet, causing his body to still and face to fall.

“N-no…” It’s almost pitiful how quiet he is now that his usually confident demeanor is shaken.

“You were kissing Annie. Which is funny, considering you both are in relationships.” The statement hangs in the air and you stare steadily into his eyes. You make it a point to regulate your breathing and blink back the first tears beginning to pool.

After another charged split second, your idiot ex-boyfriend decides on the worst path: badly gaslighting you into thinking it wasn’t him.

“I uhm, I was uh, are you sure? It couldn’t have been A-Annie-- I mean uhm, me, uh, ahaha, if it was, that’s so funny…” He stumbles over his words, only trailing off in defeat when you hold up a hand to silence him.

“Save it, Reiner. I already had a breakdown last night, I’m not particularly in the mood to deal with yours.” You limp over to the table and pull out a chair to reveal the cardboard box of his things you had packed up that morning. “Here’s your stuff, now get the hell out and stay the fuck away from me. Maybe go grovel to Bertholdt and see if you can salvage that relationship.” Your hand trembles as you point at the box and then the door and your lip quivers with the effort of not crying.

Reiner evidently sees the vulnerability in your eyes and decides to grasp at a few last straws, adopting a pleading mien, complete with sad smile and innocent eyes. He moves towards you slowly, as though approaching a wounded animal, and reaches out to lay a hand on your shoulder. “Aww, come on, baby, it wasn’t like that, it was just a heat of the moment thing, I didn’t mean--”

“Didn’t mean what?” Facade finally breaking, all you can muster up is a furious, cracked whisper and angry tears. “Didn’t mean to stick your tongue down my best friend’s throat? Didn’t mean to practically fuck your best friend’s girlfriend in public?”

“No, I mean, yes, but I, aw, c’mon sweetheart,” he admonishes, cautiously reaching out to wipe away your tears. You cringe away, but before he can touch you his arm is ripped away and he’s stumbling back with a shocked expression.

“I believe the lady told you to get the fuck out.” Levi’s standing in front of you out of nowhere, hands eerily still at his side. Evidently, he had come back from the store smack in the middle of The Dumpening, and a glance towards the entryway confirms there are grocery bags discarded haphazardly on the floor. Turning your attention back to the men in your kitchen, you see Reiner’s face has rapidly shifted from surprised to angry. He’s caught himself against the counter, breathing hard, eyes flicking from your teary eyes to Levi.

“Hey, this isn’t any of your fuckin’ business, buddy,” Reiner drawls, confident as he straightens up to his full height. He practically towers over Levi, the shortest of the three of you, and you can tell he’s already estimating your roommate to be an easy fight should it come down to that. Sharp panic enters your chest at the thought of a fight breaking out, and your hand flinches out to grasp Levi’s jacket sleeve desperately. You’ve seen Reiner in a couple bar fights, and even drunk he’s a force to be reckoned with.

He doesn’t acknowledge your touch, instead injecting a quiet venom into his usually dispassionate tone. “You made it my fuckin’ business when you touched my roommate without her permission in my home.”

The taller man opens his mouth to retort, but you beat him to the punch: “Reiner, just go. I want you to leave.” Some mettle has returned to your voice and you force obstinate lungs to take a deep breath. “Please take your stuff and go.”

Eye contact with Reiner usually makes you feel warm and safe and in love, both of you prone to wearing your heart on your sleeve. This time the experience is sullied by conflicting anger and hurt and guilt written across his face, filling your already aching heart with an unshakeable leaden weight.

He inhales sharply, then speaks in a much more uncertain voice. “Is this really what you want?”

Your mouth quirks to the side in an effort to quell more tears. “Yes, this is really what I want.”

The fight slumps out of his body, shoulders rounding imperceptibly, and he holds up his hands in defeat. He crosses to the cardboard box of his things sitting on the kitchen chair. You don’t miss the way Levi casually keeps his body between you and Reiner, staring him down as he moves towards the pair of you. Your grip hasn’t slackened on Levi’s jacket, and at this point you can’t distinguish if it’s to stop him from doing something stupid or simply to have something to hold onto.

Reiner hoists the box into his arms and turns his head towards you once more.

“Goodbye,” his voice cracks on your name and you tear your eyes away in favor of staring at the linoleum kitchen floor.

The front door clicks shut.

You finally drop your hand from Levi’s sleeve, sink slowly into the chair behind you, and bury your face in your hands. The dull aching of your heart seems to seep through the rest of your body until your limbs are heavy, ankle throbbing from standing on it for too long.

You hear Levi’s retreating footsteps towards the door, the shunk of the lock slipping into place, and the crinkle of plastic grocery bags as he picks them up off the floor. He works in silence putting the food away, giving you space to collect your scattered self. When his task is complete, he joins you at the table, sitting in the chair which had previously been occupied by Reiner’s box. 

When the chicken timer rings, he calmly shuts it off and returns to sit by you. 

When his cell phone dings with a text notification, he deftly sets it to “Do Not Disturb” and returns to keeping you company.

When you finally meet his eyes, it looks like you’ve aged a year.

“You all right?”

“Been better.”

“At least this time you’re sober.”

“Pfft,” you scoff. “Wish I wasn’t.”

“On that note, I got wine and cheese at the store. The “perfect break up cure”, in your own words.” His tone is dry, but his mouth is slightly quirked at the side. “And I saw that Pride and Prejudice is streaming on Netflix.”

His thoughtfulness chips into your melancholy, and you hazard a watery smile. “Aw Levi, you didn’t have to do that.” With that, you lean over and pull him into a warm hug, arms around his neck and chin hooked over his shoulder. He hesitantly puts his own arms around you and pats your back awkwardly.

“Really, it’s no--”

“Oh, shut up and let me be grateful for you.”

--

(read Part 1.5 here)

[theeslytherinslut]

A Shit Tutor (4/?)

Pairings: Draco Malfoy x reader, Draco Malfoy x slytherin!reader 

Word Count: 1,581 

Warnings: language, none

A/N: sorry for the hiatus guys! Some of you guys now but I’m in college and nearing the end of the semester so the workload is getting more intense. And on top of that I’m working on writing an actual book lol. So a lot going on rn but I’ll try to work out a more regular posting schedule. Anyway, thanks for reading!!!

~Masterlist~

“Up! Up! Up!” your alarm clock chirped, excited to fulfill its role. 

“Alright,” you moaned into your pillow, turning onto your side. 

“Did you hear me? It’s time to get up!” it chirped once more. 

“I heard you! I’ll be up in a minute,” you whined, eyes still heavy with sleep. 

“The first to rise is always most wise!” it sang; your mother thought the clock was quite funny, especially knowing how grumpy you were in the mornings.  

“Fucking fine! I’m up! You obnoxiously cheerful sodding clock,” you grumped, rolling out of your bed. 

“Always such a pleasure,” the clock quipped back before the gears resembling eyes slid closed once more. 

“I was just about to wake you myself,” Jal said, poking her head around the corner, grinning at you as she braided her hair back. You merely grunted in response, attempting to rub the sleep from your eyes. “You always were a graceful riser.”

Shooting her a glare, she grinned and disappeared back into her section of the room. Yawning, you pulled a brush through your hair and clipped it up and out of your face, dawning your uniform for the day. Just as you were finished tying your tie, Jal called out to you. 

“C’mon, we’ve already missed breakfast. I’m not being late to McGonagall for you,” she warned. Realizing she was right, you cursed under your breath and slung your bag onto your shoulder, jogging after Jal. 

The morning had been hell, you’d forgotten your report for McGonagall in your dorms, and even though it was done, the witch had taken 5 points for not having with you. In Ancient Runes, you’d been half asleep when Professor Babbling called on you--you gave the wrong answer. Jal’s snickers all throughout were of no help to your mood, and by lunch, you were positively bitchy. 

“Sweet Salazar, someone’s got their knickers in a bunch this morning, haven’t they?” Jal said, looking amused at your grumpy face. 

“It would help if you weren’t so goddamn giggly. Old McGonagall takes 5 points, and it’s somehow funny to you,” you pouted, lowering your eyes at her as the two of you stepped into the Great Hall. As you walked past the Gryffindor table, you could’ve sworn you heard the gangly redhead say your name, but when you turned to throw daggers, the bushy-haired girl that was always with them quickly hushed him up so you couldn’t be sure. 

“If you weren’t the one getting points taken, you wouldn’t be so bitchy,” Jal sighed as you glared at the three. Harry looked up and started at the malice in your face, but the girl with them snapped her fingers and called his attention once more. 

“Yeah, well, it was me, wasn’t it?” you grumped as the two of you came to the Slytherin table; just as you were about to slide onto the bench, you heard your name. 

“Y/N!” a nearby voice called. Shocked, you looked to find a pale hand waving you up the table. Looking over at Jal, she wore the look you imagined was on your face as well and shrugged. 

“Go on,” she said after a moment, waving you on. 

“Y/N!” the voice called again. 

“Go!” she called again, waving her hands at you as she moved to sit. 

“Come with me!” you called, suddenly intensely nervous. 

“What?” she said, suddenly looking scared. 

“Come on!” you hissed, grasping her wrist tightly and dragging her along with you. She resisted for a minute, but as the two of you got closer, she recovered and walked with you. 

“Yes?” you said, stopping in front of Draco as he smirked at you. Turning around in his seat across from Draco, you felt Jal stiffen as Blaise’s eyes traveled along her figure. 

“Jaltrece, right?” he smirked, his voice like butter. Looking at him now, you could definitely see the appeal. His jaw was simply unforgiving and the muscles tensed as he looked at Jal; she seemed to have lost her voice. His dark eyes were alight with amusement at her awkwardness, and it was a moment before you could pull your eyes from him. As fair as Blaise was dark, sitting across from him was Draco, grinning at you in amusement as well. 

“Jal,” she choked out after an awkward pause. Clearing her throat, she spoke again. “It’s Jal.” 

“Jal,” he repeated, and you could have sworn you saw her knees tremble a bit. “Care to sit?” 

Words failing her, she nodded dumbly and slid into the spot next to him. Gesturing with his own arm, Draco beckoned you to the other side of the table. Walking around it, you smiled sheepishly and slid into the spot next to him. 

“Thought we might sit together. How’s your morning?” he asked as he buttered a biscuit. 

“Pretty shit, honestly. Forgot my Transfiguration report, so McGonagall took 5 points, then I gave the wrong answer in Ancient Runes, not to mention the bloody staircase changed on the way here, so I got lost for a bit,” you sighed. 

“I’ll never understand why they made the sodding staircases change--as if the castle wasn't confusing enough,” he agreed, shaking his head. “Father says it was Rowena Ravenclaw who insisted on it; I thought the Ravenclaws were supposed to be intelligent.” 

“Nothing says intelligence like unnecessarily enchanting the staircases in an utterly massive castle to get you lost,” you sighed, filling your plate. He laughed lightly, and you snuck a look at him as he did so; his true smiles were so rare. “Besides, have you seen that one Ravenclaw?” 

“Which one?” he asked, grinning. 

“The airhead; the one who wears bloody radishes for jewelry,” you laughed.

“The one who follows after Potter and his followers like a bloody puppy dog? Loony?” he asked, looking annoyed as he spoke of Harry. 

“Loony?” you laughed.

“You haven’t heard her nickname? I thought everyone had,” he laughed back, lifting his goblet to his lips. 

“Evidently not. Nobody tells me anything--that’s incredible, Loony, ha!” you laughed again. Draco smiled at you and seemed to study your face. Feeling slightly uncomfortable at his intense attention, you let your Y/C/H hair curtain over your face. 

“So, were you planning on a Hogsmeade trip this weekend? It’s the first of the year,” he asked conversationally. 

“Probably. Jal here is a sugar addict; she never misses a Honeydukes trip,” you teased. She scowled darkly at you. 

“Blaise keeps a stash of pepper imps underneath his bed; he isn’t the only sugar addict,” Draco said, grinning as well at his friend. 

“Careful, Malfoy. I think what you keep hidden under your bed is a bit more interesting,” Blaise said darkly. Obviously, your interest was piqued. Looking at Draco, you found his features paler than normal and started a bit at the intensity in his glare. Nobody glared like a Malfoy glared. 

“Touche, Zabini,” he muttered darkly, his smugness leaking back into his face as he noticed you watching. “Fancy a partner?” 

“Sorry?” you asked, almost choking on your chip. 

“To Hogsmeade? How would you fancy accompanying me?” Draco asked, turning on his charm as he smirked at you. Dazed, you felt your heart rate pick up in your chest. 

“Er, yeah. Yes, I, uh, I suppose that would be alright,” you said, trying to sound appeasingly nonchalant. Looking up, you saw Jal smirking and knew you failed. 

“Excellent, I’ll meet you in the courtyard after breakfast on Saturday?” he smiled. 

“It’s a date,” you smiled back, but then your insides turned ice cold. “Shit, er, didn’t mean it like that. Was just trying to be funny.” 

Your face was positively burning hot; it seemed it had leeched all of the blood from your body. Cursing yourself internally, you bit the inside of your cheek and hoped to Godric he’d let it go.

“It’s a date,” he repeated and delivered a swift kiss to your cheek. Shocked, you actually choked on the chip headed down your throat this time. Coughing violently, you were all too aware of the eyes now watching you. Despite all your coughing, your body couldn’t seem to dislodge the piece of food, and breathing was impossible; though, if you were to die right there, you didn’t think you'd mind too much. I mean, here you were actually choking to death because Draco Malfoy had asked you on a date and gave your cheek a kiss. 

“Apapneo,” you heard suddenly. Surprised, but cherishing the air now flowing to your lungs, you gave a grateful smile to your savior. 

“Try to chew next time, yes?” 

To your utter annoyance, Snape was the one who happened to be passing by to get to the staff table at the time of your choking. 

“Right, thank you, Professor,” you forced through grit teeth. Without another word, Snape began making his way up once more. 

“You are the only Slytherin I’ve ever met that Snape actively dislikes,” Blaise said after a moment. 

“You’re telling me!” you sighed exasperatedly. “All because I’m not too good at Potions,” 

The three of them gave you a look, and you rolled your eyes. 

“Alright, alright. I’m rubbish, I know, thank you,” you said, offering them your favorite finger. And because why wouldn’t you be, you were caught. 

“Ms. Y/L/N!” you heard. Closing your eyes, you let out a deep breath; it was simply not your day. “Another 5 from Slytherin,” McGonagall quipped. 

“I am on a roll today,” you sighed. If you didn’t start finding humor in the events of the day, someone was going to be dead by sunrise. 

[extremelyblackandwhite]

handmaid - 03

PAIRING: mob!sebastian stan x ingenue!reader

WARNINGS: age gap

A/N: i love writing ingenue readers, it’s my absolute favourite thing. i hope you enjoy xx

NEXT CHAPTER

The contract.

That goddamn contract had haunted Y/N throughout the whole night. There were several points that not only made her even more scared of the myth that was the mob boss Sebastian Stan, but made her fear for her own safety if she were to slip outside those rules. On the other hand, several other points stated and talked about terms she’d never really heard of. It made sense to her why no one dared oppose him, if she was being completely honest, she didn’t feel like opposing him. Things were different in his family than the tight knitted Forrests, more technical even, all held up by blood contracts that made it sound like she herself was selling her soul in order to serve him.

This was not the way things had been taught to her. No. She had always been treated as almost a foster daughter of Mr. Forrest, going to the same prestigious schools as his daughter, attending the same events, being cared for the same way with only the price of making sure Gwen kept her feet on earth and was safe enough by constantly having her by her side. The Stans had an almost hierarchic way of doing business with the family itself being at the top while the employees stood right at the end of the pyramid. She couldn’t blame them for that, after all, they had held the highest rank in all of the families for over a century, but it still wasn’t free of criticism. 

Gwen had returned from her date with the mysterious guy with a spring on her step, and purple hickeys on her neck and collarbones. She had just sighed at the sight, rolling her eyes at the very much engaged woman’s behaviour. Y/N didn’t want to blame her or shame her into at least trying, fully knowing it was common for mistresses and affairs to occur in the mafia. However, Gwen was her friend and she’d rather have her try to at least be friends with Sebastian. Nevertheless, that probably wouldn’t happen and she should probably prepare herself to discuss the contract with someone who could possibly kill her and make it look like an accident. Could she even amend a contract? She didn’t know, but she was gonna try.

With all the might she could, she strutted towards his office, taking a deep breathe in. You’re a powerful woman, Y/N, she told herself. Powerful woman, Catherine Tramell levels of power. With all that, she knocked on the door, mumbling his name and wondering if she could run away had he not heard it. Sadly he did, telling her to come in. She opened the door, shaking like a leaf on a windy night. There he was, sprawled over his office chair like a king in his throne, slightly unbuttoned dress shirt.

     - Miss Y/N ... - her name rolled off the tip of his tongue just like honey, sickeningly sweet. Sebastian observed her too, her sleep filled eyes from what he guessed due to waiting for Gwen and her oversized baby pink dress which he was sure probably had belonged to Gwen too. - How can I help you?

     - I’m here for the contract. - she walked to his desk, contract in hands.

     - Did you sign it? - he questioned, pointing at the chair so she would sit down instead of spending the whole time on her feet. Not that he didn’t enjoy to see her standing.

     - Not really, I have a few questions. - she bit onto the skin of her bottom lip, placing the contract on top of his desk. - I also don’t agree with some points of this agreement.

    - It’s a contract, Miss Y/N. You sign it or you don’t sign it, we don’t discuss it because I have better things to do. - he put both his elbows on top of his desk but she instead opened the contract, pointing at one of the first bullet points right at the top. 

    - The subject will not pursue any legal action. Why would I pursue any legal action and why would I not be allowed to pursue it? - Sebastian chuckled, leaning against his chair with the most unnerving grin ever seen. 

    - Well, angel, if you were to pursue any legal action against me you wouldn’t win and considering your prior employer didn’t pay you ... I don’t think you have enough money to get good enough lawyer to fight mine. Even if you did, I own the jurors, whatever you did, I would still win.

    - I would still like the ability to sue you. - she crossed her arms. - Please. 

    - No, that stays. 

    - If that stays then this point ... - she changed to a different page, looking for the sentence she had highlighted the prior night. - The subject is to carry a firing weapon and receive training if untrained. This point leaves. 

    - That is also a hard no. It’s for yours and Miss Forrest’s protection.

    - Isn’t that what the weirdly suited man’s for? - his name was Christian and he constantly followed Gwen and Y/N around. Based on what she had noticed, he had at least two guns in his belt and was constantly annoyed at something. 

    - Alright, angel. How about you do the training and I don’t force you to carry around a gun? - he took a pen from his perfectly organised pen holder filled with the same matte coloured black pens. That type of organisation and colour matching was only seen in office supplies magazines. He turned the contract to himself, crossing it out and writing the newly discussed point. - Anything else?

    - When you said that all your employees must be submissive to orders ... how would you describe submissive? - Sebastian took a double look at her, wondering if she was teasing him but no. She had the most confused look he’d ever seen on someone’s face and he wondered how sheltered she was from the world she lived in. - Mr. Stan? 

    - Pardon me. - he woke up from his thoughtful state. His early morning brain did not dealt well with the words submissive followed by Mr. Stan in the same sentence, specially coming from her. - I think I would describe it as the dictionary describes it, Miss Y/N. Additionally, I believe I told you to call me Sebastian.

    - Yes, sorry. I just ... I don’t wanna, I don’t feel comfortable with the idea that I have to do everything you tell me to do. 

   - With all due respect, Miss Y/N, you are a handmaid. You’re a female servant and being a servant means you do everything you’re told.

   - Means I do everything Gwen tells me to me and even with that, it goes through some critical thinking. My loyalty does not lie with you until you’re married to Miss Forrest. - in any order circumstance, he would’ve had her punished for that snarky comment. However, this was Y/N and not only would the Forrests take it as an insult, he did not want to hurt such a precious little innocent thing. - So I would like that removed. 

   - I must say, Miss Y/N, you’re a good negotiator. - he crossed the point out, wondering if he’d ever regret it before handing it the pen back to her. - Now, would you please sign it?

   - Oh, alright. - she put the pen’s top up to her mouth, mindlessly bitting on it as she read the contract all over again, something Sebastian choose to advert his gaze from. His gaze only returned back to her as he heard the scribbling pen being put back on his desk. - I have a question. 

   - When don’t you have a question, Miss Y/N? - he put the pen back in its holder, filling her contract along with the rest of his staff. 

   - Can I decorate my room? - she played with the hem of her dress, back again to bitting her lip. - Not that I don’t like your taste I ...

   - I didn’t decorate it myself, Miss Y/N. You can do whatever you please with your room as long as it doesn’t disturb its safety and over wall construction design. 

   - Thank you. - she gave him that cheek to cheek smile, getting up from the chair and moving it back to its initial state.

   - I hope to see you at the engagement party tonight, Miss Y/N. That is, if you’re not covering for Miss Forrest’s affairs. 

   - It’s a party, I’m sure she’ll attend. 

She closed the door behind her, letting go of the air she had been holding in like a nervous little kid. Her hands flew to her cheeks which were severally heated up, but at least she had gotten half of what she wanted and that was worth the whole nervous scenario that would probably haunt her during sleepless nights. Nevertheless, she had gotten her way and right now she had enough strength in her to go awake up a very grumpy sleeping Gwen. 

Y/N walked into her bedroom, opening the door quite harshly to see if it would wake up sleeping beauty but she remained still in her slumber, as if the very loud noise wasn’t even there. Annoyed, Y/N grabbed the remote from her dresser, pointing it towards the windows so they shades would give way for the natural light to enter in. That seemed to do the trick as Gwen hissed like a cat, hiding her head under the duvet which Y/N unceremoniously pulled away from her. 

    - Rise and shine, Gwen. - she held the duvet in her hand as Gwen raised her head, giving her the scariest glare she’d ever seen. - Next time don’t stay out until 5 AM. Don’t you have an engagement party to get ready for?

     - Shopping does sound like a great idea. - she sat down on her bed, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. - How do the hickeys look?

     - Like you were mauled by a bear. What do you even do with those boys that gets you looking like a TV hero after a fight? - they were fresh hickeys and just like any bruise they looked very red, starting to turn purple. Y/N might’ve never gotten a hickey but as a rather clumsy person, she did understood bruises very well which meant in a few hours that same hickey would start becoming very ugly. - Can’t you act like an engaged woman?

    - Can’t you act like less of a prude? - she grabbed her phone, turning it on to check for messages. 

    - Hey, I’m not a prude. - Y/N whined like a child, taking her phone away from her too. - Please go take a shower, put some makeup on those hickeys and get ready for lunch.

    - I wanna go shop for a new dress, Y/N. We can probably go and have lunch somewhere in the Upper East. - she wrapped herself in one of her countless satin robes. - I’m sure you can convince the Big Bad to allow us to go.

     - No. I covered for you last night and he caught me. I’m not gonna ask him for anything, you ask him, you’re his future wife.

     - C’mon, Y/N. What’s the worse he can do to you? - she could think of several things he could do to her that all ended up with her at the bottom of a lake sleeping with the fishes or whatever method of deposing he preferred. - He can’t kill you, that’s bad practice. 

     - No Gwen, you talk to him. I’m not gonna ask him anything after he caught me lying. - Y/N pulled the duvet back onto the bed as Gwen stepped into her wardrobe, looking at what to wear. - I’ll go grab my bag, I guess. 

     - I’ll talk to Sebastian, stop being such a scared little sheep. - Gwen screamed as she walked out and into her bedroom. Y/N eyes immediately scanned the room from side to side, wondering if someone had heard and thankfully no one had heard such thing.

She returned to her bedroom, taking note of a few things she would’ve grabbed from the shop to make it a bit more homey, maybe a nice dusty pink throw and some nice pillows. Yeah, that would make it look so much better.

Y/N grabbed her bag, putting her purse and phone in it before going down the stairs where a very annoyed Gwen was standing next to Sebastian who constantly had the same stoic look that made anyone want to immediately bow down.

     - Sebastian is coming with us. - Gwen shot him a glare for which he didn’t mind too much. 

     - If you’re gonna behave like a child, I’ll treat you like a child. - Y/N just followed them onto the lift, exchanging an uncomfortable look with the chauffeur as Gwen huffed, understanding she was not gonna have her way with this. 

The journey to the Upper East Side shopping street was even more uncomfortable. Everyone was mostly quietly, Gwen unhappy with not getting her way which was foreign to her, the chauffeur who barely spoke to begin with, Sebastian in the front looking over some papers and Y/N trying to turn invisible. Soon enough they were on the street with Y/N following Gwen into Prada, her favourite shop, along with the security guard while Sebastian took off to go somewhere else.

Going into expensive stores was something Y/N was used too but it still made her feel wildly out of place. From the clerks handing them expensive champagne to Gwen going over several newly in. She walked out in a red bodied dress that flared out from her waist, giving a little twirl.

    - Does this dress say forced engagement or not? - Gwen asked, shaking her hair a bit for volume. - I need a matching mask.

    - I thought you said covering your face was sacrilege. - Y/N leaned against the comfy coach in the changing room.

    - It’s a masquerade party. It’s really in right now, besides, a man in a mask is always entrancing.

    - Please don’t make out with someone at your own engagement party.

    - Alright, Y/N ... - she turned around. - I really don’t need your criticism right now.

    - I’m ... I’m sorry. - she bite onto her lip, getting up from the coach, picking onto the skirt of the dress. - I’ll wait with Amos outside. 

Gwen crossed her arms, watching her leave. Y/N knew for a fact she wasn’t being critic out of meanness alone, she just didn’t want her friend to be gossiped about in mob circles. She was a smart girl with capacity to take over her father’s place if it came the time to do so, however, Y/N guessed maybe her opinion wasn’t called for. 

She stepped in outside to stay with the very silent security guard. Did his contract say he couldn’t speak? Y/N didn’t know, at least it was better to be there without having Gwen wanting to have her head on a plate.

    - Found a dress already? - she turned to where the voice was coming, finding Sebastian waiting by the parked car. 

    - Oh, no. I have a dress at home, besides ... Gwen will probably buy two so if she doesn’t like the one I choose, I can always wear the one she doesn’t. 

    - Do you always let Miss Forrest pick what you wear? - he cocked his head to the side. - And you had an issue with being submissive to orders?

    - It’s not the same thing. - she crossed her arms, rolling her eyes.

    - Did you just roll your eyes at me? - he chuckled darkly, noticing how one of her hands came to rest upon one of her heated up cheeks. - Have you ever had a piece of clothing that wasn’t a hand out?

    - My school uniform was mine, I still have it, very soft dress shirt. 

    - Come on. - he snapped his fingers for one of his security men to follow him. Y/N scrunched her face, holding her bag as she walked behind him until he stopped in front of a store front which Y/N recognised as one of Gwen’s favourite shops to go in. Oscar de La Renta. - We’re getting you first new piece of clothing. 

    - I can afford a napkin from Oscar de La Renta. Much less a dress.

    - Consider it a gift from me. 

    - I can’t ... - she was interrupted by his phone ringing. He took it off his pocket, face lines intensified as he noticed the name on it. 

    - Stephen, make sure Miss Y/N gets a dress. 

    - Wait, Sebastian, I don’t need ... - he picked up his phone stopping her mid sentence. She stood there, watching him walk down the street on the phone. Biting her lip, with a little naughty smile, she entered the store with the security guard behind her.

Time to buy a dress. 

taglist: @sideeffectsofyou​ @lilya-petrichor​ @xoxohannahlee​

[darter-blue]

Stucky (quick fic) [Bucky is typing]

Steve is so tired, he’s thinking about stealing the duct tape from Tony's emergency kit to keep his eyeballs from falling out of his head. 

They’re mid flight back to New York from… wherever they were this time (somewhere cold and dark and exhausting). Nat is on his left, asleep with her eyes open, which is the creepiest thing Steve has ever seen - and he once watched Dum Dum wash dirty underwear in his regulation M1 helmet before wearing it into a skirmish (they all came out alive, maybe it was good luck).

His phone isn't in his pocket, which is typical Steve Rogers luck, all he wants is to play a few rounds of that terrifyingly addictive cupcake game Clint downloaded for him to switch his brain off. But, oh! It's under Nat's seat. 

And his fucking passcode locks him out after three wrong attempts, of course! So he uses the Captain America override function that all these goddamn Tonytech Avengers phones have with his thumbprint. Before he has a chance to even look for the game, a message pops up on his screen. 

Received: First of all you just ignored my cats dressed up as Santa, so fuck you. Secondly…

The ellipses show up to say this person is typing more, but Steve has no idea what on Earth it's about, or who it's from (Bucky? What's a Bucky?), So he quickly types back and hits enter.

Sent: who is this?

The ellipses stop and then start again, and quite quickly Steve receives a reply:

Received: Dont you new phone who dis me asshole

Which is mystifying, because those words don't make any semblance of sense in a sentence together and why the fuck is this Bucky so angry?

Sent: I think, firstly, your language is uncalled for.

Oh god, he is turning into his mother.  

Received: Natasha, wtf

Oh! Maybe this is a wrong number? Maybe his and Nat's numbers are just one digit off or something.

Sent: Ah, well, I think you have me mistaken for your friend.

Received: EXCUSE ME

Received: AFTER ALL THESE YEARS THIS IS HOW YOU DO ME

This seems like an excessive response, Steve wonders if he'll need to actually wake Nat for this. Maybe it's best to just refrain from hyperbole and set the poor man (woman?) Right.

Sent: No, I mean, you think I’m someone I’m not.

It occurs to Steve right after sending that, he is being somewhat obtuse.

Received: Nat, omg, what are you talking about???

Okay, Steve, spell it out:

Sent: No sorry, I’m not Natasha

Received: What?

Sent: I’m Steve

Receieved: Who the fuck is Steve?

Immediately the phone is ringing. A picture of a ridiculously attractive man pops up as a display picture and it must be an actor or a model Tony has programmed into the phone as a joke (one time he lets slip that Jimmy Stewart would be his Hall pass and he'll never live it down).

He answers, because it would be rude not to. 

'Who are you and why do you have Natasha's phone?' 

'I think maybe you have the wrong number,' Steve says back to that gruff, salty greeting (salty is his new favourite word of the day, thanks to the urban dictionary app FRIDAY put on his phone) 

'I… hang on..' the phone goes silent for a moment and Steve likes to think he's waiting very patiently for Mr grumpy to come back on and apologise profusely. He secretly is quite interested to hear that voice when it's not so gruff, and maybe a little contrite. 'No!' the voice barks into Steve's unsuspecting ear, 'This is definitely Nat's phone. I am not going crazy.' 

And for the first time Steve wonders if it's entirely possible this is, in fact, Natasha's phone.

Huh.

'You still there, dude?' Bucky asks. And Steve grunts to confirm he is, but pulls the phone away slightly to check, and oh. Look at that. There is no crack in the bottom left hand corner of the back of the case.

Oops.

'Ah, so it looks like you might be right,' Steve says, in lieu of an apology.

'Oh good, okay, you're not going to apologise for causing me a ridiculous amount of identity crisis for three a.m on a Monday morning?'

'No,' is Steve's answer. Partly because he never apologises. Partly because it's sort of fun to fuck with this guy.

'Wow, nice. Okay, Steve, what the fuck are you doing answering Nat's phone at this late hour?' Bucky asks, his voice has lost its gruff edge, has taken on the mild warmth of amusement (it is even more pleasant than Steve had anticipated), 'You guys hook up or something?'

'What? No!' Steve blurts out wildly, before he can stop himself (but, yuck. Natasha is like the pain in the ass little sister Steve never asked for) 'We work together.'

'Ah,' Bucky says, like he's just discovered a state secret, 'You're Steve from work.' - Oh lord, what has Natasha been saying about him? - 'You sound cuter than I was expecting.'

What. Does that mean?

'I uh…' Steve is at a loss, 'I am not cute.' 

Steve is a thirty something year old super soldier too world weary to even wear a parachute these days. He is not. Fucking. Cute.

'Sure, send me a selfie, I need to judge for myself.' He can hear Bucky chuckling to himself on the other end of the phone.

'I am not sending you a selfie.'

'Fair enough, you want me to judge in person, I can respect that,' Bucky says, and the warmth in his voice has reached dangerous levels. It's affecting Steve more than it should. 'Okay, if you’re Steve from work then you live here in New York, right? Which means you can meet me at Elsa's tomorrow night at nine.'

'I don't… know where that is?' Steve says, flustered and breathless for no good reason. 

'Google it. Okay it was nice chatting Steve but I gotta go,' he can hear Bucky yawn, hears the crack of his jaw, 'You shouldn't be calling people up at three in the morning, it's rude.'

'I didn't… You called me!' Steve says incredulously. Except Bucky has already hung up. He pulls the phone away from his ear and states at it, like it might offer him some answers. 

It does not.

It does have a picture of Bucky in the contact information though. And okay, if he's not a model or an actor then life is just unfair. Steve doesn't realise he's staring at the phone until Natasha's voice breaks through his musing.

'Two years I've been trying to set you up with someone nice and you end up picking up my best friend with a butt dial?'

Steve looks over at her and she hasn't moved at all. She still looks asleep. She really is creepy.

'It wasn't a butt dial!' he doesn't even know what that is, but he's sure it doesn't apply here.

'Uh huh. Remind me to get Tony to take your fingerprint override off my phone.'

Steve lays Nat's phone gently in her lap where she pretends to sleep on. He fishes his own out of his chest pocket, must have been there the whole time, and puts his head in his hands. 

He just wanted to play his cupcake game…

The phone pings a few seconds later and it's a message from Nat; Bucky's contact information (including his picture).

And he isn't sure what this feeling in his gut is, but it's definitely not the roiling miasma of banality that has been festering there lately.

Which is probably a good enough reason to not back out of this.

Really, how bad could one drink with a handsome stranger be?

He leans back in his seat and let's his head fall against the headrest. It could be nice actually.

'Atta boy, Steve.' Nat says, still as a statue.

Steve is pretty sure she can read minds.

He wouldn't even put it past her to have set this whole thing up somehow. 

The tiny tilt at the corner of her mouth suggests he might not be wrong.

part two  part three

[partywithponies]

hi! i've only ever seen the bbc version of father brown and i've never read the books (i know, i'm so sorry), but i'm super curious about the different versions of father brown and you seem like an expert on each adaptation, so i was wondering if you'd be willing to give me a rundown of sorts on each version/series? i know it's a lot to ask and i may be opening the floodgates here, but there's not a ton of info online elsewhere and i'd love to learn more! thanks either way. ciao!

OH BOY YOU’VE COME TO THE RIGHT PLACE ANON

OKAY SO

As briefly as possible:

The books:

Proof people who complain about the BBC show being “too political” don’t actually know the books at all

Father Brown straight up calls capitalism “evil” and “heresy”

Chesterton says that millionaires dying isn’t a tragedy

Inspector Valentin betrayed us and broke my heart, ACAB I guess

Since every police officer he befriends lets him down in some way, Father Brown’s only real friend is Flambeau, who he goes absolutely everywhere with. They only go on holiday with each other. They’ve been all over the world with each other. I love they

Book Father Brown pretty much never does his goddamn job. We literally never in all the books see him giving mass or taking confession. The closest we get is when he gives an impromptu sermon after seemingly coming back from the dead, where he literally only says "You silly, silly people. God bless you all and give you more sense." then runs away to send a telegram. Useless priest. I love him. 

Book Flambeau is. Incredible. Amazing. Iconic. None of the adaptations have been able to fully capture book Flambeau’s true energy, for he is a walking contradiction who contains multitudes. If all the onscreen Flambeaus fused into one being, THEN you’d have something vaguely resembling book Flambeau.

Book Flambeau is MASSIVE. He’s at least 6′4, he’s broad shouldered, has huge hands, and his super buff. He can just. Pick people up and throw them. He can knock people unconscious with one punch. He fills doorways when he stands in them. He terrifies most people just by drawing himself up to his full height. He also has a very short temper and a very short patience. 

He’s very agile and athletic and can move silently, despite his size. He’s also a master of disguise, somehow. (Explain, Chesterton. Explain. Is everyone in this universe apart from Father Brown, Flambeau, and arguably Valentin massively stupid? Actually don’t answer that I’ve read these books)

Book Flambeau has a habit of flinging people full-bodily down flights of stairs when they anger him or threaten him or Father Brown. Book Flambeau also carries a walking cane with him literally everywhere that has a sword concealed in the handle, plus book Flambeau insists on taking pistols on holiday with him, even when he was just going for a peaceful fishing holiday in the Norfolk Broads. King. 

(Which all makes it so iconic that Father Brown, described as tiny and meek and sensitive, saw this man when he was still a hardened criminal on top of all this and said “THIS ONE I LIKE THIS ONE. I JUST THINK HE’S NEAT” and went off on a jolly through London with him.)

Flambeau’s past is extremely mysterious. We no nothing about his family or his childhood or where he’s from or why he turned to crime. We know he used to be a soldier, and a part of him misses it. We know he used to fight duels semi-regularly, and liked them to be fought the very next morning after they were organised. We know he always used to make sure to visit the dentist on time, even when he was a hardened criminal. (King of good teeth.)  We know he was in a gang at some point. We know he was a student at some point. We don’t know what he studied, but we know he knew Leonard Quinton in “wild student days in Paris”  ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°). This is literally all we know about his past before he met Father Brown. The man is a riddle wrapped in an enigma. (That’s why Flambeau is so big. He’s full of secrets)

(Fun fact: in the book universe Flambeau is famous and popular in America, so you could say that in universe Flambeau is America’s Favourite Fighting Frenchman.)

Flambeau also loves cats and children, believes in fairies, likes pointing out rocks that look like dragons, and likes giggling and mucking about on the beach with Father Brown.  A baby.

One time Father Brown called Flambeau “full of good and pure thoughts”, but I don’t think that’s quite true, Father. I think Father Brown just has endless faith in Flambeau.

Another thing I think is really neat is that it would’ve been so easy to have Father Brown be the genius and Flambeau his dumb muscle sidekick but that’s not the case at all! They’re both geniuses and they’re both each other’s sidekick, and in fact it’s Flambeau who’s the famous professional private detective, Father Brown is just an amateur. Father Brown is often defined by his connection to Flambeau rather than vice versa, both in the text (the text will frequently refer to them as something along the lines of “Flambeau and his friend the priest”, and on two separate occasions a long list of Flambeau’s possessions is ended with “and a priest”), and in universe (Father Brown himself is massively famous in America in universe largely because of “his long connection to Flambeau). I don’t know I just think it’s neat. 

One time a man threatened Father Brown with a gun and Flambeau just beat him unconscious and then Father Brown and Flambeau just drove away and left him unconscious on the path. It was awesome.

(I’m sorry I rambled about Flambeau for so many words I just. Really really like Flambeau you guys. Father Brown and Flambeau are like two separate crime drama character tropes, the hard boiled cynical P.I. and the cosy eccentric amateur detective, but together as a double act, and I just think that’s really cool.)

Father Brown himself is if anything even more mysterious. He’s just “Father J. Brown, formerly of Cobhole in Essex, currently London”, and he’s “Flambeau’s friend”, and that’s all. That’s all he needs to be.

I also really really love Father Brown himself. I love that he’s allowed to be cheerful and optimistic and childish without any of this making him less clever, and in fact he’s shown time and time again to be cleverer than grumpy cynics who are scornful of childish things. Like, the whole giggling childlike thing isn’t even some kind of act, he’s a genius who understands true human nature, and he also really really likes puppet shows and building sandcastles who telling fairy stories, he really does get a “childish pleasure” from seeing Flambeau swing his sword-stick, and he really does have “strong personal interest in tomfoolery”. I love him.

I must share my favourite book quote about Father Brown himself: “But neither of them is very like the real Father Brown, who is not broken at all; but goes stumping with his stout umbrella through life, liking most of the people in it; accepting the world as his companion, but never as his judge.” uwu uwu uwu I’m cry.

Chesterton just subverts all the expectations character wise, the cheerful bumbling priest is a genius, the violent criminal is a true hero, the noble police officer is a corrupt self-serving murderer. It’s great. We stan. 10000000/10

(I’m not very good at being brief, am I?)

Father Brown, Detective (1934):

The first movie! It’s completely ridiculous. I love it a lot.

It was released just at the start of Hays Code, which, among other things, stated that crime and immorality should not be glorified or glamourised, and all crime and immorality must be seen to be punished by the end of the film. In practice in the case of this film, this means two things:

Paul Lukas!Flambeau is the only Flambeau to actually go to prison (and stay there).

He’s by far the Flambeau who deserves it the least. Lukas!Flambeau never hurt a soul. He just wanted to be loved. #FreeMyBoyHercule

Okay but in all seriousness. There’s a reason I call Paul Lukas!Flambeau “Himbo Flambeau”. Where other Flambeaus are violent or dangerous or geniuses, Lukas!Flambeau is just a big dumb idiot who respects women and has a great sense of humour and writes all his letters in the third person like Elmo for some reason. I would die for him.

At one point Flambeau in disguise is talking to the police, and when the police criticise Flambeau, disguised Flambeau says “Oh but I assure! I have read many things about this Flambeau! He is a fearless, handsome fellow!” The absolute idiot. I adore him with my whole heart.

The film is set in London, like the books, but an idealised Hollywood version of London, i.e., almost entirely unlike London.

Walter Connolly!Father Brown is also entirely lacking in braincells. Look at these two idiot men:

I love them.

Oh oh! And the most important thing, the thing that carries over into most other adaptations? NEW ORIGINAL CHARACTERS!!

This movie invents a few characters that weren’t in the books, but the most important ones are Mrs Boggs:

She doesn’t really add much to the plot but she’s funny and I love her so I’ll forgive it. 

She’s Father Brown’s housekeeper, she’s basically just the fussing maternal female character archetype who fusses around in the background, but she does it well and plays it with charm so I’ll allow it.

(Honestly this whole film is just. Not *technically* good or original, but just so charming and with so much heart that I unironically adore it.)

She tries to make Father Brown drink his milk because it’s good for him even though he doesn’t like it, and keeps checking back in on him to make sure he’s drunk it, it’s literally like a mother and her small child.

She objects to policemen in the presbytery because of their “big muddy boots on the carpet” but is fine with just letting Flambeau in whenever despite the prevailing rumour in London being that Flambeau killed a man. We stan a queen of having priorities. 

When Inspector Valentine summons Father Brown to the station, Mrs Boggs pops up in the background, assumes Father Brown’s being arrested, and says “Oh dear, I knew it!” and it makes me giggle like an idiot every time.

The other, more important original character invented for this movie is my girl Evelyn Fischer:

I love her, I would die for her, she’s flawless.

She’s basically your typical bored and rebellious young aristocrat, but she has a chaotic streak that I adore.

She sneaks out of her family’s mansion to go to a seedy underground club/illegal gambling ring in Soho (I mean I assume it’s Soho, a seedy part of London in that general vicinity, at least. I’m not about to get bogged down trying to understand the geography of London according to Hollywood), flirts with a bunch of strangers for fun, then when the police raid the place and everyone else is panicking she stands stock still, cheerfully says “Oh goody, I shall probably get my name in the papers!” and has to be physically dragged out of the building by Flambeau.

Later on Flambeau breaks into her bedroom in the middle of the night and she’s just very calmly like “What are you doing?”, and even when she finds out it’s Flambeau, a man widely believed to be dangerous and violent, instead of being scared, she calls him an idiot right to his face.

She forms the third part of the main trio of the movie with Father Brown and Flambeau (RIP to Valentine, demoted to tertiary character in a loose adaptation of the one (1) story where he was the main character lol) and together the three of them share a single braincell and have to take turns with it, while Mrs Boggs fusses in the background at the trio’s increasingly bonkers decisions. 

The movie ends with Father Brown and Evelyn sharing an emotional farewell with Flambeau through the window of a police car and promising to look after each other until Flambeau’s released, wow poly rights.

The Adventures of Father Brown (1945):

The adaptation there’s the least amount of information about, but I’ve done my best to find everything I can find on it.

An American radio show made towards the end of wartime, it’s a bit of an odd one, and believe me Father Brown adaptations have gone some odd places.

Only two episodes survive, or at least if more do survive then whoever has them is being very selfish and hoarding them to themselves because only two episodes are publicly available anywhere, and the audio quality of those is a bit dodge. (Though that is to be expected, they do appear to be home recordings, from 1945. Honestly we should be grateful to even have two full episodes.)

If the actors I’ve found are the right people, this show featured by far the youngest Father Brown and Flambeau, at the start of the show the actor playing Father Brown was only 36 and the actor playing Flambeau was only 27. They’re BABIES. (Honestly I’d like to see more age variation in Father Brown adaptations, as I have extensively rambled about before, the characters have literally no canon ages in the books, I think people ought to be a little more imaginative instead of always building on the adaptations that came before, even if it is really cool to see traces of all the previous adaptations in each new one that comes along. It’s something I haven’t noticed as much in adaptations of other golden age detective novels, but the Father Brown adaptations do seem to be stuck in some kind of game of “yes, AND” with each other. I would REALLY like to see an adaptation where Flambeau is older than Father Brown though, it's just something we've never had before despite there being literally nothing in the books to suggest this can't be the case, and I just think it'd be neat.)

This show is really really painfully American, in a real old fashioned "golly gee whizz mister" kind of way, to the point it almost feels like a parody, and I honestly find it kind of endearing.

Even Flambeau frequently slips into a very American accent to the point that my affectionate nickname for him is "The All-American Flambeau", and it's great. He's great.

Honestly I could accept the accents and the slang, for some reason the only thing that really threw me was Father Brown referring to money in cents and nickels.

Needless to say, this adaptation is not set in London. It is instead set in Generic Unspecified Smalltown USA. It's fine. This is fine. I already have so many films and shows set in London, I can swallow my London pride and let America have this.

It's hard to get a real grasp on characters from just two episodes, but I like this Father Brown and Flambeau, even if they are a little overly serious, and even if Flambeau doesn't really do much. He may be a bit serious and a bit useless but All-American Flambeau stays up late anxiously waiting for Father Brown to get home safely and it's very sweet. What a good boy.

All-American Flambeau also carries handcuffs around with him for some reason? But no weapons? Why is All-American Flambeau one of the few Flambeaus not to have a gun? Oh well, he's still sweet.

The 1945 radio show also gives us some original characters, but they're very much side characters and not part of the main plot and it's very hard to get a good grasp on a character from just a few minutes of audio from just two episodes but here's what I could gather:

Nora is another fussing housekeeper! She seems younger and less maternal than Mrs Boggs, but I don't know if that's just because the whole cast was on the younger side. (Could the radio station not find anyone over the age of 40? Were they in short supply in 1945 or something? Ah well.) She seems dedicated to helping Father Brown get some peace and quiet that he never goddamn gets because someone always goes and gets themselves murdered. In both surviving episodes a knock at the door disturbs Father Brown’s rest, Nora opens it professionally, sees it's Flambeau, and immediately drops the professionalism and is immediately like "oh it's only you", so I can only assume every episode started this way. I do hope so.

Father Peter is a junior priest who answers to Father Brown and takes over his duties on his days off. He's implied by the dialogue to be considerably younger than Father Brown, Nora, and Flambeau, but if their actors are anything to go by then they're not that old themselves, and though Father Brown seems to talk to Father Peter like he's a literal child, he is still a priest so I very much doubt that's the case. He seems sweet and harmless, but he's only in one of the surviving episodes and only in that towards the end and mentioned briefly at the start, so it's hard to judge completely. It's highly unlikely that the reason he's not even mentioned in the later surviving episode is because he turned out to secretly be an evil murderer, but, this being a Father Brown adaptation, not entirely unfounded. (But no, he's probably just a sweet boy who exists to have exposition delivered to him.)

Father Brown/The Detective (1954):

The Alec Guinness movie! The one haters of any of the other adaptations complain that adaptation isn't more like, but in my humble opinion, actually the worst adaptation.

Like, I don't hate it! The cast is mostly stellar actors and if I just saw it as a movie on its own, it'd probably be fine. But as a Father Brown adaptation watched in context of the books and the other adaptations, it has a few issues imo.

Most glaringly it has Tone Issues. This film cannot decide if it's a comedy or not. The original posters certainly marketed it as one (see above) and half the cast are noted comic actors who were famous at the time for comedy, goddamn SID JAMES is in it, but the entire third act is played painfully straight, half the cast is mugging for the camera and trying way too hard to be funny while the other cast is giving extremely serious and subtle performances, like. I have no problem with a Father Brown adaptation being played for laughs, and I have no problem with a Father Brown adaptation being played for drama, both can work beautifully, but just PICK ONE, PLEASE

All of my other gripes with the film are very petty and nitpicky, this film calls Father Brown and Flambeau "Ignatius Brown" and "Gustav Flambeau" even though Father Brown has the canon first initial "J" and Flambeau has the canon first name "Hercule", and I hate it a lot. "Ignatius and Gustav" is the second worst thing any Father Brown adaptation has ever done to me.

My other petty nitpick with the movie is that it makes Flambeau literal nobility. The man is a duke. In my opinion Flambeau should always either have a completely mysterious past or be a nobody who came from nothing, someone who grew up with land and title and many servants and a family coat of arms, living in a whole entire castle with his family name and coat of arms engraved into the side of it, growing up and stealing from people, is a whole lot less sympathetic in my opinion. Like to be fair his parents are dead which is sad I guess and his castle has seen better days, but dude. You still own a castle. People who live in castles do not get to lecture other people about materialism.

THAT SAID, Peter Finch is still the best thing about the movie. I love all Flambeaus dearly, even the ones that are little bitches. He’s a bit of an emo “oh woe is me” sadboy, but he’s very charming, and actually good at disguises and being undercover, get dunked on Lukas!Flambeau.

Guinness!Brown likes to feed ducks and Flambeau calls him “the angel with the flaming umbrella”, which makes my inner Good Omens fan who loves finding parallels between Aziraphale & Crowley and Father Brown & Flambeau go 👀

There is one really good scene, in the Paris Catacombs. And by “good” I mean “really really bafflingly gay”:

I truly, truly do not understand how this scene was written, directed, acted, filmed, and edited without ANYONE saying “hey lads does this seem a bit gay to you?”

Father Brown, literally lying on top of Flambeau and pinning him to the ground, whispering: “I would like to set you free.” Flambeau, softly, gently smiling while his face is literal inches away from Father Brown, who is still pinning him to the ground: “Ah, now I begin to understand what you are.”

What the fuck, you guys. What the entire fuck. This scene keeps me up at night.

ANYWAY

This film is also not set in London. It is instead mostly set in a rural English village, and partially in Paris and partially in rural France. Paris is fun but I miss London.

This film also has some original characters. I should probably talk about them. 

This is Lady Warren:

She’s Father Brown’s friend, and she’s a Lady, and that’s all I can really tell you.

She’s very well-mannered and dignified and sophisticated.

She gives me the vibe that she exists solely because the writers decided they needed a female character but then remembered at the last minute they had no idea how to write women, so as a result she is almost entirely irrelevant to the plot. I don’t want to say I don’t like her, because she’s done nothing wrong and it’s not her fault, but like. Why is she here? Poor thing, she deserved to be plot-relevant, really.

She lives in a big mansion and owns some very nice things, and she gets annoyed when she invites Father Brown to lunch but he just stares blankly into space thinking about Flambeau the whole time. (Mood honestly FB. Me too.) 

She flirts a bit with Flambeau in one very pointless scene that came the hell out of nowhere, went nowhere, and was never mentioned again. It was like the writers realised how gay the previous Flambeau scene was and suddenly tried to convince me this man is a hetero. Nice try, writers. You can’t fool me that easily.

The other main original character is Bert:

Alright, own up, whose bright idea was it to put Sid James in a Father Brown movie?

Bert is a smalltime criminal who’s a friend of Father Brown, who Father Brown protects from the police, but tries to convince to get on the straight and narrow by getting him as a job as Lady Warren’s chauffer. 

This is would be fine, were it not for the fact he’s played by Sid James, who only knows how to play Sid James, and is just Sid Jamesing it up in every scene. I don’t have anything against Sid James. I like my fair share of Carry On films. But Sid James does not belong in Father Brown and I want to fight whoever decided he did.

Father Brown (1974):

LADS LADS LADS! It’s time for the first TV show, and it’s time for my favourite boys:

Oh! OH! How I love Kenneth More!Brown and Dennis Burgess!Flambeau. They’re just. So cute. My two special boys.

Not only that, but LADS! We’re finally back in London!

A gritty, dirty, London in the 1930s no less, with cool London buses and political unrest and grimy pubs and the constant threat of world war. Alexa this is so cool play London Calling.

In one episode Flambeau gets verbally abused by an anti-immigration right-wing zealot. :( My poor boy. :( 

(But it’s okay, shortly after Father Brown witnesses this, the racist shows up dead in exactly the place Father Brown earlier said would be a good place to commit a murder. Now I’m not accusing Father Brown of murder, BUT)

This show made the bold but valid decision to skip Flambeau’s redemption arc and start the show when Flambeau is already a seasoned and respected private detective who’s lived in London and been Father Brown’s closest friend for many years. As a result this Father Brown and Flambeau are ridiculously domestic with each other. Look at this peak Old Married Couple energy:

Oh! I just love them.

I would love to know how Burgess!Flambeau’s redemption went down though, because Burgess!Flambeau is BY FAR the least repentant of all the reformed Flambeaus. He proudly boasts about his crimes, he still believes he “deserved to succeed”, he still proudly talks about how “daring and outrageous” he was, which begs the question of why did he stop at all? Literally the only explanation I can think of is that he’s literally only doing this for Father Brown’s sake, which. uwu

Oh GOD I love Burgess!Flambeau. Obviously I love all Flambeaus a lot, and choosing a favourite feels like choosing a favourite child, but let’s just say: if the Flambeaus WERE my children, Burgess!Flambeau would be quite spoilt. My ~ Daring And Outrageous ~ boy.

More!Brown and Burgess!Flambeau are both really really socially awkward, uncomfortable in crowds, and nervously say “oh dear” a lot. They really are ridiculously cute.

They also only giggle and joke and act silly when they’re together, when they’re apart they’re both sort of sad and quiet and withdrawn. (This makes episodes Flambeau isn’t in a bit harder to watch because Father Brown is just kind of lost and lonely without his emotional support Frenchman, with three notable exceptions: that time Father Brown infodumped about the mating habits of whales at the Father Superior for a solid minute, that time Father Brown met a dog and reacted with unrestrained delight, and that time someone mentioned former criminals in passing and Father Brown’s whole face lit up and he started gushing about how Flambeau was living in London now and doing very well as a private detective, completely unprompted.)

This show also brought back book!Brown and Flambeau’s habit of always going on holiday together! Wonderful! We love to see it!

This show is also the first time in the entire Father Brown franchise where gay people are overtly acknowledged to exist! And Father Brown is non-judgemental! A roman catholic priest written in the 1970s and living in the 1930s who canonically isn’t homophobic! I have no choice but to stan forever!

You remember what I said about liking to point out Good Omens parallels? WELL

Kenneth More!Father Brown and Dennis Burgess!Flambeau both live in London

Burgess!Flambeau lives in a brightly lit, pale walled, airy and spacious, modern (for the time) London apartment, while More!Brown prefers gothic architecture and lives in an old, grey, cramped, stone building absolutely full floor to ceiling with books

They go out for intimate candlelit dinners for two at very fancy London restaurants 

Desperate people come to Flambeau because he “knows the game on both sides of the fence”

Father Brown responds with a quiet and miserable “oh dear” when asked to actually do his job instead of just watching plays and drinking wine

Father Brown calls Flambeau “my dear” at times and it personally kills me

I mean. I’m just saying.  👀

Now, isn’t there a third important character in the books? 

Oh yes of course:

HIM! THE BASTARD MAN! INSPECTOR VALENTIN HIMSELF!

(Nobody understands him! IT’S NOT! EVIL!)

This show is the literally only adaptation to include the Valentin betrayal and I’m not gonna lie. It’s a very difficult episode to sit through, it’s far darker and grimmer and more depressing than you would ever expect from Father Brown, but my god it’s done so well. Especially considering the teeny tiny budget they clearly had, only four sets are used the entire episode and the whole thing takes place inside Valentin’s house, but even that adds a certain claustrophobic atmosphere and just. It’s done so well.

I think the entire budget went on gore effects because the decapitated heads in this episode are disturbingly realistic for the time the show was made and genuinely grim to look at. Not to mention the intense downer ending.  Not to mention this was THE FINAL EPISODE OF THE SHOW

THE INTENSE DOWNER ENDING OF THIS EPISODE IS HOW THE WHOLE SHOW ENDED

God it hurts so much but I lowkey love it. 

Father Brown Stories (1984):

The second radio series, and the first BBC adaptation! 

Thrilling times for fans of actors being the right nationality for their characters, because after previously being played by a Hungarian, an American, an Englishman, and a Welshman, Flambeau is finally being played by a Frenchman, Olivier Pierre!

Father Brown himself is played by Andrew Sachs, Manuel himself. 

Not gonna lie. It’s kind of hard to figure out how to explain the radio show.

We’re? Maybe back in London? Honestly it’s really unclear.

Pierre!Flambeau is kind of adorable. He’s described as looking like book!Flambeau physically, huge and buff and terrifying, but he has literally none of the temper or predisposition to violence. 

Pierre!Flambeau doesn’t speak very good English at all, and oftentimes will react with “...What?” when he hears a strange English idiom or turn of phrase.

One time he says “Perhaps we should.. push on? SEE HOW I AM MASTERING YOUR ENGLISH IDIOMS” and it’s the cutest thing that’s ever happened.

To try and get better at understanding both the English language and the English people, Flambeau starts obsessively reading Alice in Wonderland and Through The Looking Glass, massive giant adorable boy.

One time Father Brown gets complimented of being academically minded and well read, and then asked if Flambeau is also a keen reader, and when Flambeau tries to say no, Father Brown interrupts and proudly and earnestly says “Oh yes! Monsieur Flambeau is one of our top Lewis Carroll scholars!”, it’s honestly adorable.

This adaptation finally uses “John” as Father Brown’s first name, as it should always have been! I love it!

This series said FUCK Father Brown having a mysterious past and no former friends or relatives! Now he has siblings, and friends who knew him before he was a priest who still call him “John”!

Father Brown himself speaks in a very sweet and soft and wavering way that makes my heart melt.

Sadly and unfortunately, I have to acknowledge the final episode of the show, which is the top worst thing any Father Brown adaptation has ever done to me.

It’s. It’s a crossover. With Sherlock Holmes. Actual goddamn Sherlock Holmes is in it. I hate it. I hate it so much. “Elementary, my dear Flambeau” shut the hell up, if this Flambeau won’t fling you down a flight of stairs then I will.

I deliberately avoided all Holmes-related media for THREE YEARS only for the awful man to spring up on me in Father Brown?? How could you do this to me???

I’m going to yeet myself into the sun, bye everyone.

(On the plus side, the Sherlock Holmes episode does have one of Father Brown’s parishioners recognise Flambeau as “a close friend of Father Brown and a frequent visitor to his room”  ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°), so that’s nice I suppose. I’ll still never forgive the writers of this show for putting me through this.)

Father Brown (2013):

YOU ARE HERE.

I kind of see the current TV series as a culmination of all the adaptations that’ve come before? I can definitely see echoes of all of them in it.

And it’s great! I really really love it. I love it a lot. 

I think about it daily.

My one and only complaint I would have is that Flambeau isn’t in it enough. Not just because he’s my favourite, though I’d obviously not be fooling anyone who’s read all this if I said he isn’t.

And it’s not that I don’t love the show as it is, and find the one Flambeau episode a series always something really special, so I don’t know what I’d have the writers do, exactly. 

But it’s just. In literally every other version of Father Brown, Flambeau is the second most important character and the second main protagonist, and to have him in this show so little that some fans or reviewers call him a “minor character” and others call him a “recurring villain”, though I myself don’t see him either of those ways of course because he’s still Flambeau, it’s just kinda sad and painful, y’know?

I don’t know. Maybe I’m just being silly.

Hopefully he’s a regular in at least the final season of the show. If I don’t get my favourite partners in crime solving I’m rioting. 

Anyway that’s my “””brief””” rundown on all the main versions of Father Brown!! I hope you liked it!!

[max-is-tired]

It’s Fine By Me (If You Never Leave)

Pairing: Dukexiety

Characters: Remus Sanders, Virgil Sanders

Words: 2.062

Warnings: Sympathetic Remus, swearing, crying, kissing

Notes: I... might be starting to grow lowkey in love with Dark Sides ships sdkjvnsjkfvn 

Anyway!! here is a new fic, not even a week after the last one I posted -miracles exist apparently. A big thank you to my boyfriend @afulldeckofaces for catching the mistakes that slipped past 3am me skvnsfjv you’re the best babe <3

I hope you guys like it!!

Commission me!!  Buy me a coffee!!  Join my Discord server!!

If you had told 15 years old Virgil that one day he would’ve fallen in love with none other than Remus Grimm, he would’ve probably ended up cracking a rib or two by laughing too much.

And yet, look at him now -19 years old ad head over hills for his best friend, who just happened to have had to move two towns over because of college.

God, feelings sucked.

Virgil groaned in frustration, letting his forehead hit the textbook lying open in front of him with a muffled thump.

He was tired. He was so. Fucking. Tired. Tired of college, tired of this stupid crush that kept stubbornly refusing to go away, tired of his stupid anxiety and tired of having to deal with all of this without his best friend by his side.

Yes, he was grumpy because he hadn’t seen Remus in more than a month, sue him.

As if sensing his worsening mood, his phone buzzed, breaking Virgil out of his thoughts. Letting out a series of annoyed grumbles and half-assed curses, Virgil snatched his phone from where it was lying on the desk, Remus’ wild grin staring back at him from the screen.

It was a photo they had taken that summer, just before Remus had had to leave for college. Roman had been the one taking it, the day Patton had decided to drag -for some more literally than others- their entire group out for some ice cream.

Remus had thrown his arm around Virgil’s shoulder, proudly showing off his chocolate mustache as the other fumbled with his cone to keep it from falling to the ground.

Virgil remembered glaring daggers at him for a total of two seconds before Remus’ waggling eyebrows did him in and sent him in a snickering fit.

Virgil remembered the weight of Remus’ arm around his shoulder, his warmth seeping through his shirt in a way that somehow, didn’t make him uncomfortable -he had never felt uncomfortable with Remus, not once, not even under the hot summer Florida weather in the middle of July.

He only saw that photo for the first time later that night, staring at Remus’ wide grin and sparkling green eyes as his heart hammered in his chest.

The realization had crashed over him like a tsunami, every thought in his head screeching to a halt as he slowly became more and more aware of the fact that he was very much in love with his best friend.

”Of course,” Virgil remembered thinking, staring at his phone with wide eyes, ”who else could it be?”

And boy if that thought alone hadn’t scared the living shit out of him.

For a moment, Virgil let his mind linger on the memory of that sunny afternoon, a soft smile stretching on his face.

Then, he swiped up and clicked on the notification.

”You up for a little chat?” read Remus’ message, followed by a string of random emojis Virgil didn’t even try to decipher -he knew it would probably be useless since they rarely made sense in the first place.

Virgil frowned, threw a considering glance at his textbook and the various papers still scattered on the desk and shrugged -it was not like he was getting anything done anyway.

“sure, why not”

Not even ten seconds later Virgil’s phone lit up with an incoming call, the first notes of My Immortal filling the room.

“Hey there Spider boy!” came Remus’ voice from the other side of the line.

Immediately, Virgil felt some of the tension leave his shoulders, relaxing back on his chair as he pushed himself away from the cluttered desk.

“Sup, Trashman,” he answered, not even bothering to fight down the tired grin tugging at his lips -Remus was not there to tease him about it anyway, so.

“Wow, don’t sound too excited to hear from me.”

Virgil snorted, his smile turning more and more genuine as the seconds passed.

“Fuck you.”

“Maybe later. But really, you sound like shit -everything alright? Are there some bones that I need to break?”

Virgil groaned, leaning back as he pinched the bridge of his nose. Now that he wasn’t panicking over his homework exhaustion was slamming down on him full-force, making it very hard for him to string together a coherent thought let alone think about filtering whatever shit was coming out of his mouth.

“It’s just… fucking everything, man. College is kicking my ass, my anxiety is kicking my ass and I’m just- I’m just tired, you know?”

From the other side of the line, Virgil heard Remus hiss in sympathy at his words.

“Yeah, shit, that sounds rough as hell.”

A beat of silence, and then-

“I can drive over and burn down your campus if you want. No college, no classes. Boom, airtight.”

Virgil couldn’t have stopped the amused snickers leaving his mouth even if he’d tried, shoulders shaking with his laughter as he fought to stifle it down.

“Thanks for the very tempting offer, but I think I’ll give it a pass for now.”

Then, he sighed, feeling his smile slip away as he stared at the ceiling, his sadness starting to creep up on him again. “... I miss you,” he whispered -he hadn’t exactly meant to say that out loud, but he had and now just couldn’t stop.

“I just- I miss our daily escapades and you sneaking into my room at the oddest hours of the day because you decided for some reason that simply using the front door was too mainstream.”

Virgil took in a ragged breath, distantly feeling his eyes start to sting with unshed tears.

“I miss being able to just call you when everything gets too much with the knowledge you’ll be knocking at my window in five minutes max. I miss having you physically by my side every day, I miss my best friend and I feel so fucking bad about it because you’re following your dreams and I’m proud of you, I really am but I also want you right here by my side and-”

Virgil audibly snapped his mouth shut, pressing a hand over his lips to stifle his sobs as tears streamed down his face out of his control.

“I’m sorry,” he whimpered, moving the phone away from his ear.

“Virgil-” Remu voice called, sounding worried and maybe a little desperate. but before he could say anything more, Virgil hung up, letting his room fall back into silence before throwing the phone somewhere on his bed.

Virgil bit down hard on his lip, but he could do nothing against the sobs that kept bubbling in his throat. One escaped, then another and soon Virgil could do nothing but curl up with his head hidden between his knees, yearning for the one person that could not help him the way he wanted him to.

+++

Virgil didn’t exactly remember when he fell asleep, his memory being somewhat hazy in-between the tears that seemed to never end and the way he kept feeling like something was trying to squeeze him to death from the inside-out.

What he did remember, however, was waking up to a very familiar sound -one he’d thought he wouldn’t get to hear again in quite some time.

Initially, during those few moments floating between dreams and awakening, when reality hasn’t quite set in yet and sleep still hangs heavily from your eyelids, Virgil had almost believed he was still dreaming, his own vain hopes playing cruel tricks to his brain.

But the seconds kept ticking and Virgil kept hearing the goddamn sound, so there were only two possible explanations -either someone was trying to break into his room, or-

Virgil bolted up, almost tumbling off the chair he had fallen asleep on -which, ouch- in his haste to get to the window.

And sure enough, there Remus was, with his signature manic grin as he waved at Virgil from the tree branch he was perched on.

Virgil stared, hands moving almost on their own as they went through the familiar motions of unlocking the window to let his best friend in.

“Thanks, it was starting to get chilly out!” Remus chirped, climbing in with practiced ease and plopping himself down on the bed.

“What the fuck,” Virgil answered, still trying to process what was going on.

“I- you- what???” Virgil felt like his brain was about to implode, his gaze flickering from Remus to the window and then back to Remus again.

“Dude, what the hell are you doing here? It’s fucking two am or something like that and you live like, three hours away!”

Remus shrugged, shuffling around so he could sit cross-legged in the middle of the bed.

“My best friend is hurting, why would I not come?”

“It’s the middle of the week, you have classes tomorrow,” Virgil weakly pointed out, starting to feel a little choked up with all the emotions coursing through him at once.

“It’s Thursday, or Friday morning is you wanna be accurate,” Remus easily countered. “I know for a fact that neither you nor I have anything important going on tomorrow and the weekend is class free, so I’m going to crash here until Monday morning since we both have afternoon classes. And no, this is not up to debate. It’s happening, Spider Boy.”

Virgil blinked, staring at him with wide eyes as his heart hammered in his chest.

There was a tingling sensation running through all of his body, electrifying in the best of ways. It felt like fire and ice and water altogether, filling him up and up until-

“I love you,” Virgil blurted out, unable to stop the words from tumbling out any longer.

Remus stared for a second before a dazzling grin took over his face.

“I love you too!” he chirped, grinning so wide Virgil distantly worried if it didn’t hurt to pull at the muscles that much.

“No, uh-” Virgil stuttered, all too aware of how flustered he probably looked at that moment.

He bit his lip, pondering his next course of action. He could still salvage this, just let it go and make Remus believe he meant it in a platonic way and nothing more, burying his feelings in the deepest and darkest corner of his heart. But on the other hand… did he really want to do that?

“I meant in a romantic way, Remus,” he finally admitted, looking everywhere but at his best friend, “I love you as in I want to be your boyfriend and kiss you and stuff.”

Silence fell, filling the room as Virgil kept carefully avoiding Remus’ eyes.

God, he’d ruined everything, didn’t he?

Then he saw a familiar hand reach out and grab a fistful of his hoodie, firmly tugging him forward before he could express his confusion.

Virgil let out a startled yelp, stumbling towards the bed until he found himself face-to-face with his best friend. Still grinning, Remus winked before leaning in, erasing the last few inches separating them as he kissed him square on the lips.

Virgil froze, eyes as wide as saucers as he tried to comprehend whatever the fuck was going on. But before he could do that, Remus pulled back, slowly letting his eyes slide open again as a small, soft smile tugged at the corner of his lips -it was such a strange expression to see on Remus’ face, but Virgil found that he didn’t mind it at all, as long as it was directed at him.

“I know what you meant,” Remus chuckled, pecking Virgil on the lips again for good measure, “and I love you too. Now, are you gonna actually get on the bed and cuddle or do I need to drag you under the covers myself?”

Virgil let out a startled snort, feeling like he was reeling from the last five minutes alone. Still, he dutifully climbed on the bed and flopped down, feeling his exhaustion start to creep back on him again.

Remus grinned, laying down beside Virgil and immediately cuddling as close as humanly possible.

“Comfy?” Virgil teased, moving his hand to gently card it through the other’s hair.

“Hush boyfriend, pillows don’t talk,” Remus grumbled, already halfway gone as he somehow snuggled even closer.

Virgil hummed, leaning down to leave a kiss in Remus’ hair.

Boyfriend, uh? Well, it did have a nice ring to it.

[nah-she-didnt]

“What the frick frack tickity tic tac snick snac bro?”

I’ve been saying this a lot recently and I’d very much like to see this in one of your fics.

Happy writing!

Hello lady! Thanks for the prompt!! This was fun 

Send me more prompts here

--

The Bet

The bet had started out easily enough.

“I don’t curse that much anyway,” declared Sirius as he shoveled bacon into his mouth with the voracity that only a growing 16-year-old boy can possess.

“Yes you do,” Remus rolled his eyes, “remember the time Flitwick gave you a week’s worth of lines because you said you’d let Bowie, and I quote, ‘fuck me into next week’?”

Sirius smirked. “Yeah. Well. Not my fault he’s a prude, is it?” 

James clapped Sirius on the back. “You, my friend, are a connoisseur of curse words. You work in dirty words the way some artists work in oils or plaster. That’s how I know that I am guaranteed victory in this bet.” 

“What’s the prize?” asked Peter excitedly. He loved watching his friends in competition with one another, even if he often refused to participate himself. 

“Loser has to buy the winner’s ticket to the Puddlemere game over Easter break,” James said easily, “and while we all know I love to treat my friends to a good quidditch game, I’m afraid this time it’s personal.” 

Sirius scoffed at these words. “What, just because I said you could never do it?” 

James slammed his hand down on the table dramatically. “Yes! That’s exactly why. But I’ll show you, you cheeky bastard, that I am perfectly capable of-” 

“Of what?” 

Distracted by his own passionate defense, James failed to notice that Lily had slid into the seat next to his. She looked particularly nice today, her newly-cut bangs framed her distracting green eyes in a way that usually made his heart skip a beat. Today, the sight of her made him want to jump into the Black Lake. 

“Nothing, Evans,” he said dully, forcing himself not to look directly at her, “just guy stuff.” 

Lily arched a perfectly-shaped eyebrow. “Guy stuff? Remus, what is this ‘guy stuff’ he speaks of?”

Remus looked caught. “Um,” he said, glancing hurriedly at James, “James was just saying he’s perfectly capable of kicking this nasty - uh - rash. You know, athlete stuff.” 

James stared at Remus in horror as Peter and Sirius roared with laughter. Lily laughed too, but she was tactful enough to try and hide her glee behind a facade of concern. “Ouch. Well, good luck with that, Potter,” and with that, she gathered up a few pieces of toast in a napkin and was off to class. 

James watched her go, mouth still hanging open. Then he rounded on his former friend. “What the fuck was that Lupin?” he roared. 

Remus tried to hide his mischievous grin. “Relax, mate,” he said as seriously as he could, “think about it. I’ve just helped you win the bet. I’m pretty sure Lily’s going to give you a wide berth for the next few days, giving Sirius ample opportunities to fuck up.” 

The smile disappeared from Sirius’ face. “Cheers, Moony,” he muttered grumpily.  

--

The first few days of the bet were uneventful. None of their fellow Gryffindors seemed to realize that anything was amiss. That is until Sirius accidentally missed the trick-step going down the stairs down from the second-floor corridor. 

“Aw, sh- beans,” Sirius yelled as his leg sank further and further into the step. 

James, who had the foresight to skip the step, started eagerly at Sirius’ near slip-up, but relaxed again when he heard his friend’s replacement curse. Mary, who was walking with the boys, did a double-take. 

“I’m sorry,” she said in a bemused voice, “did you just say ‘beans?’ What are you, a nun? What have you done with Sirius Black?” 

“Can’t curse,” he said through gritted teeth as James helped yank his leg out of the staircase, “Prongs and I have a bet, you see.” 

“Ah,” Mary nodded her head wisely, “so that’s why you’ve been acting weird all week.” She glanced pointedly at James. 

James tried his best to adopt a look of innocence. “How do you know the bet’s with me?”

“Just a hunch,” she smirked, “Lily mentioned that you haven’t spoken to her much this week, wondered if you were mad at her or something.” 

James’ heart sunk. “No! Mary, tell her I’m not mad, I-” 

“Tell her yourself!” Mary grinned wickedly then strode off in the direction of their next class.

--

Sirius’ fake swears got more creative after his near-miss on the trick stairs. 

“Oh sugarloaf,” he whined one night just after they’d settled in at a table in the library, “I forgot my Transfiguration textbook in the dorm.” 

Another time, he realized his Defense essay was two inches short. “Merlin’s big toe!” he yelped, hurriedly trying to cram in a few more sentences before professor Ferguson came around to collect their essays. 

A week later, his exclamations became utterly ridiculous. 

“Oi! Pettigrew! Did you just steal my chocolate frog?” he yelled across the dorm room, “What the frick frack tickity tic tac snick snack, bro?”

Remus snorted. “Excuse me?” he said incredulously, “what was that, again?”

“Oh, bite me,” Sirius huffed, and threw himself onto the bed, “I hate this stupid bet. I can’t express myself!” 

James shot Sirius a dirty look. “Oh, I’m so sorry, do you miss being the most vulgar person in this school? That must be so difficult for you. Meanwhile, I’m pretty sure Evans thinks I’m the world’s biggest prat after all the times I’ve run away from her in the last two weeks.” James vented his frustration by punching his pillow into a more comfortable position before lying back to sulk properly. 

Remus gave him a placating look. “The bet doesn’t stop you from talking to her, James,” he said as if James were a toddler on the brink of a tantrum, “why don’t you just say hello once in a while? That’s nice and safe.” 

James fixed Remus with his most withering stare. The last two weeks had made him grumpy beyond belief. “I can’t even look at her without you lot accusing me of cheating. And there’s no way I’m losing this bet. I’m so close to victory I can almost taste the top box seats.” 

“Fat chance,” said Sirius smugly, as he squeezed the stress ball Remus gifted him to help relieve his reflex to curse. 

--

James’ downfall came in the form of Severus Snape. 

The students were unusually silent at breakfast that morning. The Daily Prophet reported that Melanie Lensard, a Hogwarts graduate, had been murdered in her Lancaster home alongside her muggle-husband. The Aurors reported that they suspected Death Eater involvement. 

James shot a sideways glance towards Lily. She wasn’t eating but instead pushed some scrambled eggs around her plate solemnly. James couldn’t blame her. He had only forced himself to choke down food so that he wouldn’t be dead on his broom for quidditch practice. But, he supposed, he couldn’t possibly know how she felt right now. 

Sirius stared wanly down at his copy of The Prophet. “Today would be a great day for cursing,” he said in a half-hearted attempt at humor. 

Remus patted him on the back. “Go out and scream it into the glen. No one will hear you.” 

Sirius shook his head. “No, I’m a man of my word,” he said pompously, “no cursing until we’re through.” 

“Lily?” 

The oily voice came from somewhere behind James. He whirled around to see Snape standing a few feet away, right behind Lily. He looked nervous, which just made him appear even more sniveling than usual, and he fixed Lily with a desperate stare. 

“I wanted to know if you were… you know… doing okay.” 

Lily did not turn to face him or even meet his gaze. “And why, Snape, wouldn’t I be okay?” 

Snape flushed. “I just know you must have seen the papers.” 

Lily rounded on him, eyes blazing. “Yes, I have seen the papers. I’m sure you lot are thrilled, aren’t you?” 

Snape paled at this. “N-no,” he stammered, taking a step back, “of course I’m-” 

“But that’s just it!” she snapped. James could see her fingers itching toward the want that lay next to her fork, “there is no ‘I’ anymore with you. If you’re with them,” she pointed towards the other sixth-year Slytherins, “then it’s just ‘we.’ I won’t let you try and separate yourself from your nasty little friends. I made excuses for you for years, and I won’t do it anymore!” 

She was yelling now, and students along the Gryffindor and neighboring Hufflepuff tables had started to go quiet. 

“Lily,” said Dorcas, who laid her hand protectively across Lily’s, “leave him. He’s not worth it.” 

Lily laughed a cold, mirthless laugh. “You can say that again. Snape, you’re nothing but a spineless, weak, snot-nosed coward, and you’d best run back to your Death Eater pals before I jinx you so hard you’ll be pissing yourself for a month.”

Snape did not stick around to retort. Instead, he scurried back to his waiting comrades, doing his best to look dignified as he ran from his former friend. 

The table was silent for a moment. Lily was panting slightly. James could feel it building in him. No, he had to suppress it, he had to win the bet, he had to think of the look on Sirius’ face when he declared victory, he had to-

“Bloody hell, Evans!” It was no use. The damn had broken. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my goddamn life.” 

Lily looked slightly startled at this declaration. Then, slowly, she grinned. “Glad to hear it, Potter. I aim to please, after all,” she said sarcastically. Then she sat back down to chat with her friends, looking marginally more cheerful than she had before Snape’s arrival.

James smiled softly at her as he watched her come back to life. If he had even the smallest bit to do with her change in mood, he was satisfied. 

That is until he saw the look on Sirius’ face.

“Victory is FUCKING sweet!” Sirius shouted so loud that half the table jumped. 

James put his head in his hands. “Alright, alright, you win.” 

“You’re bloody right I win, you glorious piece of shit,” Sirius leaned across the table to thump James on the back.

“I knew you couldn’t do it,” Peter shook his head as he returned to his breakfast. 

Remus laughed. “I tried to help you, James. But I guess in the end you couldn’t help yourself. It’s your primal instinct to hit on Lily Evans.” 

James sighed into his hands. As far as defeats go, this one wasn’t so bad. At least she was smiling again. 

“Right, I’ve got a lot of time to make up for,” Sirius said as he pulled a bit of parchment from his school bag, “I’ve been taking notes on all the cussing I need to do. To start with, Peter, you’re a two-faced motherfucker for stealing my chocolate frog.”

[marauder-exe]

AU list!

hi! These are a bunch of Au’s that i could write,and you could request! (reposting because it didnt work the first time)

General

Fake dating (My personal favourite)

Soulmates

Coffee shop

Modern Royalty

Rockstar

Running From The Police

Rebel Against The Goverment

High School

University

Law school

Delayed-Flights-And-Were-Stuck-In-The-Airport-And-Its-Like-2Am

Roommates

Road Trip

Arranged Marriage

Im-Arranged-To-Marry-Your-Brother-But-Were-In-Love

Amnesia

Tattoo-Artist-And-Coffee-Shop-Worker

Loved-Since-Childhood

Professor-Student (of age)

Met-On-Holiday

More detailed

21.You were singing/playing guitar/etc. in the park to protest the war and a policeman tried to dismiss you for 'disturbing the peace' but you argued that you were promoting peace and things got heated and next thing you know you're being arrested for assaulting an officer. You intrigue me, so I'm here to bail you out and maybe take you on a date?

22.the nice one who everybody loves with the grumpy and strict one that the students hate and the students wonder?????????how what the fuck

23.we just had a one-night stand but a massive storm hit so now we’re snowed in, hello awkward

24. i sit at the rental booth at our local ice rink and watch you teach children how to skate

25. alternatively, i watch kids teach you how to skate because you’re a terrible skater

26. i’m running late to an important interview/meeting and you accidentally spill your hot cocoa all over my outfit

27. you’re my hot ski instructor and i’m failing the bunny hill

28. i slip on some ice and you’re the stranger who catches me

29.  i gave my winter coat to a homeless person and come into your store to warm up

30. our friends rent a cabin to go skiing and we’re the only ones who stay inside

31. you’re the asshole of our group and we don’t get along, but then i find out you make soup for the local shelter

32.we’re waiting in line for the club when you complain that your roommate stole your gloves so let me warm your hands up with mine

33.my family invites you to join our holiday meal as an obvious setup and i’m so sorry

34.the power goes out in our apartment building, but i’m not prepared for this, and you come to check on me

35.i’m having a snowball fight with my friend in the park and i hit you instead

36.a storm is delaying our flight home and i’m afraid of thunder, please talk to me while we wait

37. we’re both in small claims court and i got into a huge fight with the person suing me but you stepped in to hold me back before security got there

38. i drove two hours to the closest video rental store that’s still operating and you were checking out the only copy of the movie i was after

39. i hit you with my car but luckily you’re okay, but we should still exchange information i guess

40. i was worried about buying something off of someone creepy from craigslist but oh no you’re hot

41. my friend talked me into playing a drunken game of spin the bottle even though we’re all adults and now we have to make out

42. we both decided to take a [yoga/fencing/cooking etc] class and we’re the only two assholes not taking it seriously and everyone else is giving us dirty looks but we keep grinning over at each other

43. my date just made a scene in public and got arrested and now i’m stranded in a city without a ride home

44. sharing a cab together

45. you’re trying to get me to sign a petition and i have no idea what you’re talking about

46. you’re drunk at this festival and dancing on the table and when you eventually fell i caught you

47. we both play this stupid game online and you keep beating me every single goddamn time so i called you out and you are pretty cute but can you not

48. im a bartender and you just came in here without shoes sat down and ordered a chocolate volcano and idk what the fuck that is and im scared to ask

49. we are neighbours and every night at 3:14 am you start yodeling for no fucking reason??? why???? is that you yodeling??? its been 2 months???

50.im a pizza delivery person and i just delivered a pizza to someone in the middle of a satanic ritual and they gave me their number???

51. i woke up this morning to find you sitting in my living room with a goat in a poncho??? who are you??? why is the goat wearing a poncho??? how did you get the goat in here i live on the 12th floor???

52. we work out at the same gym and you always look super legit but i know you sing hannah montana in the shower and you know i know

53. im a cashier and i saw you stuffing you pants full of potatoes and i would stop you but you already have 27 and i want to see how many you can fit

54. its 4 am and im drunk as fuck in a mcdonalds and you have been watching my trying to eat this burger for 30 minutes

55. i was playing beer pong with a coin and i accidentally threw it right into your eye at a party

56. i’m at the beach and some kids thought it was funny to bury me in the sand when i dozed off can you please dig me out

57. it’s unbearably hot and we’re both fighting over the last handheld electrical fan at the shop at the amusement park

58. hey i just met you, and this is crazy, but i get sunburned really easily so can you please help me put sunscreen on my back?

59. thunderstorm after a menacing heatwave and we’re both getting weird looks for dancing in the rain

60.i have no idea who you are but you just fainted right in front of me holy shit dude you need to drink more in this heat

61. we both chased after the leaving ice cream van like ten-year-olds and now we’re both out of breath and a bit embarrassed

62.i clearly reserved this deck chair by putting a towel on it why on earth are you lying on it who the fuck do you think you are

63. My friends bet I wouldn’t buy these three weird and questionable items and you’re my cashier.

64.Once a week I go visit the pet store just to stare at the cute kittens and puppies and you’re the nice employee who always lets me hold them and wait I think I’m going to cry hold on.

65.You’re the DJ of the University’s radio station and every time you give an opinion on a current event I have to call and argue with you because could you seriously be anymore wrong?

66.We both wait tables at the same restaurant and you’re always mad at me by the end of the night because I make more in tips

67.We have the same class and once a week you wear this graphic shirt I don’t understand and I really want to ask you about it.

68.We both work at the same craft store that literally has no customers so we have nothing to do and I’m always reading at the register but you always have to criticize my book choice what the hell?

69.I’m working the concession stand for this week’s home game and this is the fifth time you’ve come back for snacks wait are you flirting with me?

70. we’re at a bookstore and you and I seem to have similar taste in books have you read this one? How about this one?

71. you look like you need help and I’m a professional roller/ice skater but I don’t want you to feel bad about how much you suck but wow you suck

72. You ordered your food before me and they gave you a drink you didn’t want so you gave it to me

73. We’re sitting at adjacent computers in the library and I’m taking extra care not to look at your screen out of respect but what the fuck do you keep laughing at

74. as a joke I yelled out “happy birthday to someone!” in this store and you called back “thank you!” who are you

75. You heard me talking about a TV show in class the other day and now you’re passionately yelling at me about how good it is we’ve never actually spoken before

76. It’s 10:30 at night and I left my glasses at home so I can’t read any of these labels and you’re one of the only people in the grocery store and GODDAMMIT DO YOU HAVE ANY TOMATO SAUCE WITHOUT CHUNKS

77. We go to the same support group; I have social anxiety and you’re a kleptomaniac who sorta stole my heart

78. You thought you were alone at the bus stop so early in the morning so you started passionately singing Fall Out Boy but your Patrick Stump impression could use some work and I’m not really afraid to point that out

79. I’m an artist and you have a really nice face so would you mind if I drew you?

80. We’re rival up-and-coming singers and every time one of us releases a new single the other does a cover to try to make it better; we’re always trying to top each other and out-cute each other, but half our fans aggressively ship us; our agents use this to their advantage and decide we should do a duet because it’ll be popular; unfortunately now that we’re in the same studio and I’ve seen what you’re like I really wanna know what your lips feel like

81.PLEASE I REALLY CANNOT FIND MY CAT AND I KNOW IT’S THREE A.M. BUT NEIL CATRICK HARRIS AND I WOULD BOTH APPRECIATE THE HELP

82. We were both stood up for dates at the same nice restaurant so we decide to eat together and split the check but I dunno you’re pretty interesting aside from your distractingly enormous eyebrows

83. We met at a mutual friend’s cheesy masquerade party and we agree that the only good thing about this party is the masks so you can’t judge a book by its cover only now that we’ve been talking I want to see your face but I don’t know how to ask

84. You used to date my friend who absolutely hates your guts after a messy breakup and now you’re flirting with me and I really shouldn’t be so interested in you but I am

85.We pass each other every day while we’re biking on the same path so we’ve started smiling at each other and one day you’re stopped because you’re having an asthma attack so I offer you my extra water bottle and now we’re talking and now I’M the one who’s breathless

86.I lost my little sibling in IKEA and I need your help finding them

87.I'm a private detective hired to follow you, but you're endearingly boring and mostly I just like watching you and oops, I sort of find you adorable.

88. You've been sketching me for half an hour now, and just shuffled up to hand me the finished product and it's TERRIBLE but you just wanted an excuse to talk to me.

89.  I'm at an art exhibit and I just badmouthed the art, because I don't get it, okay? And it turns out you're the artist. I'm so sorry, maybe I could get you coffee and you could explain what it was supposed to be?

90. We're the only two people who turned up to an underground gig and it should be awkward, but the band is amazing and you asked me to dance and hey, there's nobody watching but us.

91.  You live in the apartment next to me. We're not supposed to have pets, but I KNOW you have a cat. I'll make you a deal, I won't tell, if you let me pet it.

92.  I punched you because I thought you were insulting my friend, but it turns out you know each other and it was an inside joke and I'm so sorry, let me drive you to the hospital?

93. We both wanted to rent a bike for an hour but the only one they have is a tandem bike

94. I’m on a terrible date and you’re my waitor please help me

95.Our dick landlord just evicted us both

96.I’m your neighbor and I can hear you fucking someone who  shares my name

97. You’re sort of famous and we vaguely know each other through bumping into each other all the time but the media thinks we’re dating

98. Your roommate cheated on me and I just threw your laptop out the window thinking it was his

99. It’s 2am on the night of my 21st birthday and we gotta fix this fucking mess by morning or else we’re fucked

100.Fuck you and your bee farm I’ve had enough

Feel free to use any of these as your own! If you wanna request you could drop an inbox saying ‘ could you do ____ AU with this character’!

[baepsaesbae]

Parang Kape Ko. Bittersweet. || Just Like My Coffee. Bittersweet

Pairing— Kim Taehyung x reader

Genre— Fluff/Romance, Enemies to Lovers au, coffee shop au

Warnings— None

Word Count— 1.8k

Summary— You work at a coffee shop with the most annoying person ever. Kim Taehyung. 

A/N— Thank you @kitsutaes​ for requesting! I hope you like it darling. You can still request drabbles up until the end of the August with this post

You couldn’t quite place it. Something about Taehyung made your skin crawl since the very first day you laid eyes on him. To make matters worse, your manager kept pairing you together for nearly every shift (she couldn’t help it, she thought you guys looked cute together).

You despised the way girls would giggle and try to subtly give him their number after ordering their drink. You rolled your eyes every time he’d wink and flirt back with them. Each shift with just the two of you was unbearable. 

Taehyung was naturally a player, anyone could see that. Women would swoon from a mere flash of a smile. They’d be putty in his hands with a simple wink. That being said, Taehyung was so taken aback when his charms didn’t work on you. He couldn’t figure out what he did to tick you off, but it seemed like you didn’t like him from the start. That was a concept he couldn’t fathom. 

It was like a never ending game of tag that you didn’t want to play, and you couldn’t risk Taehyung finally catching up to you. The more you showed your disdain for Taehyung, the more intrigued he’d be by you, thus spurring him to pester you even more. 

“Hey grumpy grump! How was your weekend?” Taehyung greeted you as you clocked in.

“It was fine. Yours?” you replied with indifference.

“It was chill, kinda lowkey. I actually found a cool hole in the wall restaurant that I thought maybe we could--”

“I’m busy,” you interrupted without looking at him.

“But I didn’t even say when--”

“You don’t need to. I’m very busy all the time,” you walked away to prep the machines before Taehyung could even reply. 

“C’mon, just give me a chance! It doesn’t even have to be a date. I genuinely want to get to know you. Why do you hate me so much?” Taehyung pouted as he followed you around like a lost puppy. 

“Prep the tables and chairs, please,” you commanded without acknowledging his whining.

“Yes ma’am. See? I’m such a good boy, I always listen to you,” he called out from across the cafe as he unstacked chairs. 

You ignored him. This was your normal routine every time you worked with Taehyung. He seemed to get a thrill every time he riled you up, so you’ve learned not to give him the satisfaction. Straight up ignoring him was the best way to go. 

Taehyung became preoccupied with taking orders once the customers started piling in. You absentmindedly made the drinks, a task that you could now do with your eyes closed. You thought about what Taehyung said. Sure, he’s an annoying prick who knows he’s too handsome for his own good, but does that really justify your hatred for him?

You hated to admit it, but Taehyung is the most handsome man you’ve ever seen in your life. Your heart fluttered every time he teased you, and though you gave off the impression that you wouldn’t care if he disappeared off the face of the Earth, you were secretly pleased with the attention he gave you. On occasion, you’ve caught glimpses of random girls glaring at you while Taehyung was messing around with you. 

You shook your head as you powered up the blender to make a double mocha frappe with 2 extra shots of espresso. What the hell were you thinking? This is exactly why you don’t like Taehyung. He lives in your mind rent free. 

“I think that frappe is blended enough,” Taehyung observed. He appeared out of nowhere, startling you.

“You good?” he asked with a hint of concern.

“I’m fine,” you answered curtly as you handed him the drink. 

“Frappe for Tiffany!” Taehyung called out before returning his attention to you, “I was serious earlier by the way. This little game of ours is fun, but I honestly want to get to know you. Plus, you never actually talk to me so I don’t know what I did to make you hate my guts or whatever. Unless you’re like a massive introvert or something. I’d respect that of course, but like I said I literally wouldn’t know that because you never talk to me so--”

“Okay! Fine! I’ll go with you to that stupid restaurant. Will you finally shut up now?” you snapped. 

“Aw, so you do listen when I talk to you. It’s a date! Or not, that’s up to you. You free after this shift?” he lifted his eyebrows with excitement. 

“Yeah,” you begrudgingly nodded. 

The rest of the shift flew by with the nonstop stream of customers. The morning rush is always tough, but Taehyung handled the flow perfectly every time. His demeanor calms even the most irate caffeine addicted customers.

“I’m starving,” Taehyung announced as he clocked out. 

“What kind of food does the restaurant serve?” you asked as your stomach rumbled.

“Hamburgers!” Taehyung beamed. 

“Cool. Text me the address and I’ll meet you there,” you say as you head towards your car.

“Wait! It’s actually not too far from here. There’s no need to take two vehicles,” Taehyung rubbed the back of his neck.

“Do you wanna ride in my car?” you asked quizzically. 

“Actually I wanted to take you for a ride. On my bike,” he quickly added.

“Sure I guess. You got a little basket for me to ride in or something?” you attempted to be friendly. 

“Not quite. I don’t have a spare helmet, but I can assure you that I’m a safe driver,” he says as he leads you to his parking spot.

“You have a moped?” you asked in shock. You couldn’t help but smile at the cute little lavender moped that Taehyung probably zips around on every day.

“Yeah, I love this little sucker. It used to be my sister’s, that’s why it’s purple. But it’s badass on the streets,” Taehyung patted the seat.

“So where am I sitting?” you asked even though you already knew the answer. 

“You’d be safest sitting behind me. You can hold onto me if you’d like. For safety reasons, of course,” he smiled. 

You climbed onto the moped after him. You didn’t want to hold onto him, but you whimpered and quickly wrapped your arms around him as soon as he took off. The tiny moped was surprisingly fast, and since it was so small, you could practically feel every bump on the road. 

Taehyung smirked as you hung onto him tightly. “Cute,” he thought. 

Taehyung’s scent enveloped you as you leaned into his back. You’ve grown accustomed to his smell since you were always together at work, but being up close and personal with him was a different story. He had a comforting smell that made you want to snuggle up to him even more. You wondered which cologne he was wearing, just in case you wanted to pick it up for yourself. 

You felt how solid his torso was as you clung to him. Your thoughts lingered to his earlier question yet again. Why did you hate him so much? He really didn’t seem like a bad guy. In fact, the opposite is true. Sure he could be a bit flirty, but he was also always kind and gentle. You realized that he never flirted with the customers first, he simply returned their energy. 

“We’re here!” Taehyung happily announced.

He led you into a small restaurant that appeared to be family owned. The owners greeted Taehyung by his first name, indicating that he’s probably a regular customer. 

“Welcome in! And who’s this lovely lady you brought with you?” the man greeted. 

“Taehyung! Is this this coffee shop girl? She’s just as gorgeous as you said she wa--” his wife began to ramble until Taehyung cut her off.

“I’ll have two of the usuals please. Oh, and two sodas. Thanks guys,” Taehyung ordered quickly before bringing you over to a small table in the corner. 

“How much do I owe you?” you inquired as you took out your wallet.

“Nothing. This is my treat. I’m surprised you finally agreed to hangout with me,” Taehyung smiled as he shifted his weight in his chair.

“What was that lady saying before you ordered?” you tilted your head.

“She uh, was telling me about the daily special,” Taehyung lied.

“No she wasn’t. I was right next to you, Taehyung. Am I the coffee shop girl?” you teased, delighted that the tables have turned. 

“I mean you are a girl and you do work in a coffee shop. But that doesn’t necessarily mean that you’re THE coffee shop girl…” Taehyung was flustered. 

“Is this a date or are we just hanging out?” you pressed further. 

“Which would you like it to be?” Taehyung retorted.

“I asked first,” you countered.

“I guess I can’t argue with that. I would prefer this to be a date. But since you hate me I’d happily settle for us just hanging out,” he admitted. 

“I wouldn’t say that I hate you…” you trailed off.

“Oh really? Then why do you always ignore me and only talk to me to boss me around. I find that hot by the way, but we don’t have to get into that right now,” he smirked. 

“I...I don’t know. Your face always bothered me I suppose,” you answered thoughtfully. 

“My face?” Taehyung burst out into a fit of laughter, “___, am I so ugly that you just can’t stand being around me?”

“The opposite actually. Oh what the hell, we’re here anyway. You’re so goddamn handsome it’s aggravating. You’re so nice it’s unnerving. And when you talk to me it’s like you’ve known me forever. If I didn’t act so cold towards you I would’ve fallen for you so easily,” you finally got everything off of your chest.  

An awkward silence filled the room and you began to regret coming clean. The owner came by with the burgers and you noticed the ketchup was done in the shape of a heart.

“Damn,” was all that Taehyung replied after a while.

You silently nodded as you bit into your burger. 

“I’m glad I kept bugging you then. I thought you were a cutie during orientation. I knew you weren’t actually a bitch because I’ve seen the way you interact with people who aren’t me. You’re such a sweetheart. Also please don’t think I’m a creep for watching you at work sometimes,” he chuckled. 

“I’m sorry for being so cold towards you. I’m not really good with processing emotions and all that,” you blushed, “But now that everything's out in the open, I’d be willing to let my walls down I guess.” 

“Sure. We can take it one date at a time. And maybe you could actually talk to me at work?” Taehyung gave you big puppy eyes.

“Maybe. I’ll see what I can do,” you failed to suppress a smile.

Kim Taehyung might not be too shabby after all.

Published August 9th, 2020. No editing, copying, translating, or reposting allowed. All Rights Reserved © 2020 Baepsaesbae.

[itsreigns]

Sick Puppy

Henry Cavill x Reader

Henry didn’t listen to (Y/N)’s advice. Now, he’s grumpy. And sick.

Requested by: @aaescritora​

Warnings: Fluff. Fluffy fluff.

Words: 1,216

Cavill Squad:

@heelsamizayn​ | @tryingtofindaplaceinthisworld​ | @shadow-of-wonder​ | @moxleysbaby​ | @bull-moose-penguin​ | @xxsirensong​ | @tinychemicals​ | @agniavateira​ | @aaescritora | @aphrodites-punch​ | @elinalfrida​ | @thiccgeralt​ | @magdelen69​ | @littlefreya​ | @isharemydeathdaywithfeanor​ | @the-freak-cassie-131​ | @softchocomilk​​ | @the-other-ramsey | @omgkatinka​ | @meinetassetee​ | @winchwm​ | @lamuchacha-potosina | @spideysimpossiblegirl​ | @ravenpuff02​ | @thejemersoninferno​ | @maan24 |

I warned him to dress an impermeable coat for his run, since I’d seen in the news it would rain heavily yesterday morning. And the weather was so cold already. 

Obviously, he shrugged it off and said it’d be ok, that there was no need to overdress. When he came back from his run, he was completely dripping wet and freezing. So today, when he woke up in the morning, I was definitely not surprised by his state. 

“Good morning babe.” I greet him, leaning over and pressing a kiss to his cheek. He looks pale and exhausted. “How did you sleep?”

“G’ morning.” He grumpily greets back, his voice hoarse. “Not very well.” 

“Oh, are you ok?” I ask, worriedly as I reach out to caress his cheek, he really didn’t look good. 

He looks at me, trying to understand if I was being sarcastic before replying. Once he checks my honesty, he sighs heavily. 

“No… My throat is so sore. I have a headache. I kept waking up all night, I was so cold all the time, still am. Ugh… I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck. Just want to lie down.” He mumbles exasperated. 

“Baby, I hate to tell you this but-“

“You warned me and I ignored you, I know, I know… You don’t have to say it.” He sighs, as he sits down on one of the benches by the kitchen’s island, resting his arms on it and his head on top of them. 

“I was just going to say you should go lie down and skip work today.” I snap back. I mean, I wasn’t about to throw that in his face… I just know how much he hates to miss work. “But whatever.”

I toss the cloth I had in my hand on the kitchen counter, turning my back to him as I busy myself putting some cups and plates away in the cabinet.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to lash out on you, love.” He admits, tiredly, after a minute or so of silence. “I’m just so exhausted, and I feel like shit… I just hate being sick.”

I can’t help but smile slightly, he looks like a kid pouting over something. “It’s ok. Come here.” I say sweetly as I get near him and pull him into my chest, hugging him soothingly. He sighs in response, caressing my arm. “Now, you go and lie down on the couch.” I say as I pull him up. “And I’m going to make you breakfast.”

“I’m not hungry.” He cries out, as I push him out of the kitchen, and he just drags himself. He is so grumpy, Jesus. 

“Henry, you have to eat something. Now let me worry about that, and go.” I assure him, gently, and he sighs in defeat, nodding. 

I wait until he reaches the couch and lies down, before I go cook his breakfast. After some consideration, I decide to make him a lemon balm tea with a honey scoop, a couple of toasts and a bowl with sliced fruit, he could use the vitamins. I added a water bottle because he needed to be hydrated as well. I put everything on a tray and head to our living room. He’s lying there, kind of pale, with the TV on but paying it little to no attention. 

“Hey.” I whisper, smiling, as I rest the tray on the small table in front of him. “Breakfast is ready.” 

“I’m not h-” He starts to complain, but I cut him off.

“No, no, no. You have to eat. Even if it’s not much, you need to eat a bit.” I inform him, confidently so he knows there is no way he will get out of this. 

“Fine.” He groans as he sits up, silently asking me to hand him the tray. 

I sit next to him and watch him fumble around his food. When he finished, he had drank almost all the tea, ate a toast and a half and a some of the fruit. I smile proudly at the sight. 

“Happy?” He asks, slightly annoyed, his mouth full of toast. 

“Very, thank you very much.” I grin playfully and he pouts in response. “Don’t be like that, babe. I’m just worried about you. You know you needed to eat.”

“I know… I just hate this.” He sighs, hanging his head. 

“I know you do. But you will be fine in no time, you’ll see.” I reassure him, caressing his thigh, before leaning over and pressing a kiss to his lips. Then, I get up and start cleaning up the mess. 

“Where are you going?” He asks pouting once again.

“I’m just going to take the tray back to the kitchen, I’ll be right back.” I inform him, smiling softly. “Here.” I say as I hand him over the water bottle. “Take a few sips every once in a while, please.”

“Only if you don’t take too long, and cuddle with me after.” He negotiates grinning tiredly. I can’t stop the wide smile from forming.

“Of course I will, dummy.” I whisper, leaning down and kiss him, this time a deep kiss, before taking the tray away. 

I clean up as fast as I could. I’m so looking forward for cuddling time and just so relaxing. And also, I want him to be healthy as soon as possible. I hate seeing him so sad and tired. So I just want to help him the best I can. Before joining him, I go to our closet and grab this fluffy and warm blanket I had stored so we’d be even cosier. 

“I’m back!” I sing happily, unfolding the blanket. His smile matches mine as he turns on his side, leaving some space for me to lie down beside him.

So I did. I lie down next to him, facing him and hooking a leg over his hip, pulling him closer to me. He pulls the blanket over us, tucking me in gently. When we’re finally settled, he stops and stares at me for a while, not saying a single word as he runs his fingers down my hair slowly. 

“What?” I ask, shyly, blushing a bit. 

“It’s just… No one’s taken care of me the way you do before. No one ever cared this much about me. You’re the best thing that’s happened to me and I don’t know what I’d do without you.” He confesses genuinely, pouring his heart out. “ You’re the one. Knew it as soon as my eyes laid on you for the first time.” 

“Oh Henry…” I mumble, feeling emotional and overwhelmed by the love I feel for this man, and this man only. 

“I love you so much. More than any words can tell, (Y/N).” He whispers against my hair as he pulls me closer to him, hugging me tight. 

“I love you too, Henry.” I reply, against his chest. “So much.”

“Good.” He smiles widely, love and adoration sprawled on his face. “Now that that’s settled, cuddle your man, because he’s in need for some long and hard cuddles.”

I laugh at his dorky act, he is just so cute. 

“I’m here, babe. You look like a goddamn fluffy puppy. Lucky you, I love puppies. And cuddles. And you.”

Feedback please?

[edie-k]

Legally Ginger Chapter 4 (Romione, PG-13)

Title: Legal Ginger, Chapter 4 "Not Completely Unfortunate Looking"

Pairing: Romione, minor Ron/Astoria, Harry/Astoria

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Ron makes his first East Coast friend

Thanks adnei for all the beta help!

Bolded dialogue plus the chapter title are verbatim or very very heavily ripped from the movie.

Thank you for all your comments last chapter! I think the fun of these RomCom inspired fics is to surprise you with what character ends up where.

And to be clear, I love Harry - not as much as Ron but I am one of these weirdos that somehow thinks the main character is underrated in his own series. But the very few times Harry was mad at Ron, he knew how to cut and I'm going to have some fun with that. I doubt you'll hate Harry when this story is complete. But you might at the end of next chapter.

Click below or follow the link to AO3!

Ron stormed back to his room, struggling with the lock as his hands shook. After finally getting the door open, he quickly grabbed for Pig’s leash. The pug has out of his bed and at Ron’s feet in a flash.

Ron, who didn’t have patience for Pig’s short legs today, scooped him up and stomped down the hall and out to the parking lot. He jerked open the door to his Escape and deposited Pig in the passenger’s seat before taking a deep breath.

Pig tilted his head quizzically.

“We need to hit something.”

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

After driving about 10 miles, Ron spotted it. A large building that had seen better days with steel cages and a dilapidated miniature golf course outside. The weathered sign outside it said “Hogs Head Sports Center and Pub”.

He cut through two lanes of traffic to turn into the mostly empty parking lot. After putting the car in park, he took a second to dig for quarters in his center console but came up empty. “Shit,” he sighed.

Ron grabbed Pig’s leash and the dog hopped down to follow him towards the building.

Upon entering, Ron found the inside to be about as unkempt as the outside but it was surprisingly clean. Another pleasant surprise was that there was a bar to the right with a few grizzled townies eating nachos and being served drafts by a grumpy looking bearded bartender while they watched Sportscenter on a small flat screen. In the back was a sole batting cage, a few arcade machines and a beat up door with a paper taped to it that said “Simulator in Use”. To the left, a small counter with golf clubs, colored golf balls, and tiny pencils.

Behind the counter was the biggest man Ron had ever seen in real life and he’d been lucky enough to meet three Lakers, two Warriors, and a Ram. Similar to the bartender, he had unkempt hair and a wild beard but unlike the old guy slinging drinks, he was middle aged and his face split in a big smile upon seeing Ron.

“Hello,” the giant of a man greeted him. “What’s doing?”

“I need some quarters for the cages,” Ron said, holding out a $5.

“Sure,” the man agreed and opened the cash register.

“Thanks,” Ron muttered and started to walk out the door before stopping short. “Shit.”

“Something wrong?”

“I don’t have my bat,” Ron said, shaking his head.

“Came to the cages without a bat?” the guy said, his accent so thick that Ron had to pause to process before answering.

“Uh yeah. I sort of just needed to find something to hit that wasn’t…” Ron trailed off.

“The other guy?” The giant man finished his sentence with a chuckle.

Ron laughed. “Pretty much.”

The man walked into the back room and came out with two worn bats. “I’ve been there,” he said, handing Ron one.

“Thanks.”

“You look like you could use some company,” the man said.

Ron considered for a moment. He’d been lonely as hell this week. Growing up with six siblings, living in a fraternity house… he wasn’t used to all this time to himself. And this guy was only the second genuine conversation he’d had since arriving in Boston.

“Sure,” he replied. “My name’s Ron.”

The man outstretched a giant hand. “Everyone calls me Hagrid.”

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

“We hooked up the night before graduation and she’s already engaged to this d-bag?”

“I don’t get it,” Hagrid said. “What’s so great about this guy?”

Ron had spent the last half hour spilling his life story while hitting balls off the fastest pitching machine in the cages. Hagrid had proved himself to be a captive and empathetic audience - almost like talking with one of his older brothers.

Ron shrugged. “He’s obviously smart.”

“Why? Cause he got into Harvard? So did you. Better looking than you?”

“I mean, he’s a little scrawny. If I’d actually been dumb enough to hit him, I’d have won before he even knew we were fighting but he’s decent looking enough. I’ve got a sister and he’s her type.”

“He seems like a total asshole so no way he’s got you beat on personality,” Hagrid said.

Ron laughed. “You’ve known me for forty minutes!”

Now Hagrid shrugged. “Lived here my whole life. Not to paint with too broad a brush but there aren’t a lot of Harvard kids kicking back with the counter guy at a rec center. You check out.”

“That’s probably true from what I’ve seen,” Ron agreed. “But I’m not really a Harvard kid. I just...I actually don’t know what I expected.”

“You expected to spend the rest of your lives together! I don’t get why it’s so hard. Isn’t that what all the TV shows tell us women want? My girl, Olympe, she dumped me a few months back. She took everything. Our home, the Dunkie’s rewards, my baby Fangs…”

“Fangs?”

“Best mutt there is,” Hagrid said. “Although this guy’s pretty great.” Hagrid leaned down to scratch the Pig’s ears.

“I'm sorry, that sucks,” Ron replied, shaking his head.

“It happens all the time,” Hagrid shrugged. “You ready for a beer?”

“Always,” agreed Ron and they walked back toward the main building.

Upon entering the building, Ron set his bat on the counter. “What’s the old man got on tap?”

When Hagrid didn’t immediately reply, Ron turned to look at him. He was standing frozen, staring across the room where an attractive middle aged brunette woman in a polo shirt and jeans was pushing an empty dolley out from behind the bar and towards them.

“Hi, Hagrid,” she said with a smile. Ron turned to grab the door and hold it open for her.

“Uh, yeah, uh hi,” stammered Hagrid. He tried to slide his bat on the counter but only succeeded in knocking the one Ron used to the floor with a loud clatter.

She waved as she left the building.

“Could I be any more goddamn spastic?” Hagrid bemoaned. Ron gave a sympathetic wince. “Now I really need that drink.”

Ron followed him over to the bar and slid onto the stool next to him.

“Abe? Can we get a couple?”

The bearded old man behind the bar grunted and poured them two drafts.

Hagrid took a sip and shook his head. “This women stuff is hard. Never thought I’d be in this position at my age. But you’re still young. Doesn’t have to be this difficult for you. Smart guy, good guy, athletic guy like you. You’d find another girl in no time.”

“I mean, maybe, but Astoria…. she’s worth fighting for, you know?”

“Well, engaged ain’t married,” said Hagrid. “Never, ever, ever give up.”

Ron burst out laughing. “That’s Michael Scott advice!”

“Eh, it worked out for Jim and Pam,” insisted Hagrid.

“Well, I’m not giving up yet, so don’t worry.”

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

Ron entered his first class Tuesday morning, feeling much more confident. After leaving Hogs Head with a stomach full of greasy nachos, Hagrid’s number, and an offer to text anytime, he'd returned to campus and poured over all the syllabi and orientation packets again. He felt confident that he’d done the pre-work needed to enter his Criminal Law class.

He plunked down in his seat and looked around. In front of him sat Astoria and what’s his face. Harry had his arm draped behind the back of her chair.

Engaged ain’t married. Engaged ain’t married. He repeated to himself.

In addition to his studying last night, he had tried to scour social media to see if there was a wedding date set, but the news seemed totally non-existent. On a whim, he had texted Lavender. Lavender had said she was working for LiveNation post graduation but Ron wondered if she’d actually joined the FBI - thirty minutes later, she had emailed him a whole mess of screenshots from various social media accounts, college newsletters, and local newspapers. He thought he might even have Harry’s social security number in the file. The only thing he cared about was that she had confirmed there was no date set and that they intended on a long engagement.

“Hem, hem.”

The noise came from a small woman standing at the front of the hall. She had a flat face and her style of dress was atrocious - fluffy pink cardigan over a shapeless tan shift dress. He vowed to get a discrete picture of her to throw in the group chat.

“Welcome to Criminal Law. I am Professor Dolores Umbridge. I have high expectations of how you will perform and how you will conduct yourself in my class. I expect you to push yourselves to excel and outperform your classmates and yourselves. And bear in mind, performing well this year will have you well placed for one of four highly regarded internships at my firm next year where you will be applying your skills to real world cases.”

“Now, let’s commence with our usual torture,” she said. She studied a class roster.

Please not me. But I can do it. But also, please not me.

“Mr. Weasley.”

Goddamn it.

“Would you prefer your client have committed a crime malum in se or malum prohibitum?” Professor Umbridge asked.

“Well,” he said carefully. “I prefer they not have committed the crime at all.”

The rest of the class snickered.

“That is the dream, Mr. Weasley,” she said with a wry smile. She looked down at the roster again. “What about you, Mr. Potter?”

“Malum prohibitum,” he said confidently. “I’d rather they commit a regulatory infraction as opposed to a dangerous crime.”

“Well said, Mr. Potter,” Professor Umbridge replied. “Let’s take a closer look at malum prohibitum, shall we?”

Harry shot a glance back at Ron over his shoulder and gave him a shit eating grin before running his fingers up and down Stori’s arm.

We’re in the middle of fucking class and he’s mauling her like they’re at a kegger.

Before he could think better of it, Ron raised his hand.

“Oh,” said Professor Umbridge. “You had a question Mr. Weasley?”

“No,” said Ron. “I just changed my mind. I’ll take the dangerous criminal. Unlike Potter, a challenge has never scared me.”

Harry whipped his head around to glare at Ron.

“Exactly the spirit I like to see, Mr. Weasley,” Umbridge said approvingly.

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

“Come on boy,” said Ron, urging Pig along down the stairs of the dorms.

The semester was now three weeks old. Ron was dutifully completing his reading each night and when McGonagall had come back at him again with a question, he had managed to piece together an answer that satisfied her.

Campus life, however, had continued to be fairly lonely for him. His debacle in McGonagall’s class had spread like wildfire and he’d been shunned from every study group he approached. He’d taken to reviewing in the bar at the Hogs Head for the company. He wasn’t sure if Hagrid liked him or Pig better but at least there was one place in town they were always welcome.

“I didn’t know pets were allowed in student housing,” he heard a voice say.

Ron glanced up to see a face that looked somewhat familiar to him. After a tick, he recognized the woman speaking as the same one who had reassured him that first day of classes.

“Service animals are,” he told her.

She looked at him skeptically, brushing her voluminous hair behind her ears. “Is he a service animal?”

“He provides services,” Ron said, giving her a cocky grin.

She pursed her lips as though she was trying not to smile. “Such as?”

“Getting the attention of beautiful women,” Ron answered.

The brunette stood up and crossed her arms against her chest but there was really no hiding her obvious amusement. “Wow.” She shook her head and started to walk away.

“Come on, that was a good line, right?” Ron called after her.

She stopped and looked back at him. “I just didn’t think that was an area that you needed assistance in,” she said slyly, before walking away.

Shit, what a response.

He grinned, watching her go. He was about to call and ask her name - after all, she was the friendliest person on the campus - when he caught a glimpse of Astoria out of the corner of his eye. She was standing about twenty feet away with fucking Harry’s arm draped around her shoulders, talking to a couple of other students. For fuck’s sake, is she full of helium now? He’s constantly got an arm around her to weigh her down. But she was watching Ron through narrowed eyes.

Ron gave a small wave and Stori blushed, clearly embarrassed that she was caught. At that moment, Harry seemed to notice his fiancée was distracted and glanced in Ron’s direction. He threw Ron one of his patented spoiled rich dick smirks. Ron smirked right back and winked.

I’m not as out of the picture as you think. We’ll see who wins this one.

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

Ron was just stepping out of the bathroom when he spotted his phone lighting up.

Fred

FaceTime as soon as you can!

He sighed, threw on a shirt, and dialed his brother.

Fred’s face appeared before him. Sort of. Wherever he was was dark, loud and full of strobe lights.

“What’s going on?” Ron asked.

“We’re celebrating!” shouted Fred. The camera turned and Ron suddenly saw a whole slew of his friends.

Parvati came into view. “Seamus proposed and Lav said yes!”

Over her right shoulder, Ron spotted the aforementioned couple kissing. Over Parvati’s left shoulder though, he saw…

“Are you at a strip club?” Ron asked.

“Of course!” yelled George. “It’s 6pm on a Monday. Half price drinks and free buffet at Diamond’s!”

“I just bought a ring, I gotta pay for a wedding, and student loans are coming due,” Seamus said, now closer to the camera. Lavender’s face wasn’t in view but he assumed the hand with the ring on screen belonged to her.

“Congrats buddy,” Ron said, feeling a sting.

“June 9th. I need you as one of my groomsmen, right? Lavender’s first cousin is like six two. If she wears heels, only you can match up to her.”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” Ron assured him.

“Ron! Did that stuff help? Has she dumped that douche yet?” Lavender screamed, not aware of just how close she was to the mic.

“Uh, I’m making progress,” Ron said.

“Almost October bro,” George said. “If anyone can make it work, you can.”

“Or just come home!” he heard his sister shout from far away.

“I’ll see you all soon,” Ron said. “Have fun.”

“I’ll slip Destiny a $5 and tell her it’s from you in case you change your mind,” Ginny called. Then the screen went black.

God, he missed his friends, his family. He missed having a bunch of guys at the frat to hang out with at the drop of a hat. He missed having a dozen teammates, available for a run at the drop of a hat. He missed Tim, the coffee cart guy who always knew his correct coffee/milk/syrup ratio.

He didn’t think Harvard would be easy. He didn’t think that it would be easy to get Astoria back. But he assumed making friends would be easy. He didn’t even remember how he made friends at CULA - did he even have to try? He sighed and picked up Pig’s leash, ready to take him for one last walk.

“It’s a Cambridge tradition - pass it along to everyone,” he heard someone say down the hall. “8 o’clock tomorrow at Gord’s Pub”

“What tradition?” Ron asked, coming around the corner. “Oh.”

There he was, face to face, with Harry Potter.

“Uh, sorry,” said Ron. “I heard the word pub.”

Harry looked at him and then gave a slight smile. “Yeah, man. There’s a trivia night at Gord’s Pub tomorrow night. It’s sort of a law school tradition to hit it up.”

“Trivia night, huh?” Ron asked.

“Yeah, the guy who does it prides himself on coming up with the most difficult questions he can. It’s impossible to win. Everyone completely bombs on every question so everyone just gets drunk by the second half. I hear it’s a pretty good night,” Harry said.

“Cool,” said Ron awkwardly.

“You should stop by. I’m sure there’ll be a team you can jump onto,” Harry suggested.

“Yeah, yeah, maybe I will,” Ron said.

“Cool dog,” Harry said, pointing at Pig.

“Uh, thanks. Have a good night,” Ron said, walking away.

Am I so desperate for friends that I’m hanging out with this douche? I guess so.