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jakesavocado · 3 years

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Who Would Have Guessed? || P.SH

Pairing: Sunghoon x Fem!Reader

Genre: Smut (Unprotected Sex)

Words: 1.48k

Warnings: 18+ content, read at your own discretion

Synopsis: Your brother's best friend comes over for some video games, only to end up spending the night with you.

﹅﹅★

“Y/n! Can you get the door? It’s probably Sunghoon,” your brother Heeseung shouted from the bathroom. Groaning in annoyance, you got up off your bed and quickly stomped to the door, pulling it open to reveal your brother’s best friend. He smiled at you, brushing past your shoulder without a word. You watched the way he sauntered up the stairs, most likely entering Heeseung’s room for another night full of video games. Rolling your eyes, you went back to your room, getting back to the book you had been reading.

Hours passed, but the boys’ yelling didn’t cease. You wondered why your parents didn’t tell them to keep it down. But then you remembered, if they were home, Sunghoon wouldn’t have been here in the first place. Having enough of their chaos, you huffed and walked over to your brother’s door. As usual, it was locked. You pounded on the door with your fist, not stopping until you heard the lock click on the other side. Instead of Heeseung, Sunghoon poked his head around from behind it, giving you that same, kind but forced smile.

“Can you guys be quiet? I’m trying to sleep.”

Sunghoon’s smile widened. It only looked more insincere. “Sure thing. We’ll try our best.” He didn’t wait for a reply, slamming the door shut on your face. Scoffing, you turned around and returned to your room, trying your best to fall asleep before their chaotic shouts reached your ears again.

Spoiler alert; it didn’t work. You stared at the ceiling, completely exhausted. It was almost 4 in the morning and though your body was tired, you couldn’t seem to get any rest. There was no noise coming from your brother’s room, a sign that the two boys had put their games away and most likely gone to sleep.

Unsure of what to do, you left your bed and ventured downstairs, in dire need of a glass of water. You didn’t bother turning on the lights, mind too fatigued to worry about anything spooky. As you sipped your water, you heard a creak near the stairs. Whipping your head towards the sound, your eyes widened when you saw a tall figure standing in the shadows. “Heeseung?” you called, setting the glass down on the counter. The lights flickered on, revealing the silhouette’s identity. “It’s me,” Sunghoon said, walking into the kitchen. He saw your half-empty glass and picked it up, downing the water inside it, all in one gulp. “You could’ve gotten your own glass you know,” you said, unamused. Sunghoon tsked. “You were done with it anyways.” Scoffing in disbelief, you crossed your arms over your chest. “No I wasn’t. I just put it down cause I saw you creeping around in the dark.” Sunghoon grinned. “I wasn’t creeping around. I just couldn’t sleep.”

He kept his eyes fixed on yours, poised expression not faltering even in the slightest. You narrowed your eyes at him. “Stop looking at me like that. It’s weird,” you said, in an attempt to disturb the unsettling silence that fell over the room. “Don’t flatter yourself y/n,” he said, licking his lips while running a hand through his hair.

“Why are you even awake,” he asked? Why was he trying to keep up a conversation with you? Never once in his five years of knowing Heeseung, had he ever spoken to you for so long. You were breaking records tonight. “I’m awake because you and Heeseung were being too damn loud,” you shared, still quite bitter that you were missing out on some much-needed sleep.

Sunghoon laughed apologetically. “Sorry about that. We were having a tense match.” You didn’t care how serious their match was. It was no reason for you to lose sleep over. How very inconsiderate of them both, especially Sunghoon. He seemed to read your mind, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”

You weren’t expecting him to ask you that, but now that he had, you didn’t know what to say. You shrugged. “How about you put me to sleep?” It was a sarcastic remark, but you noticed the way Sunghoon seemed to consider it. Somehow, you went from standing at the kitchen counter to being tucked under the covers of your bed together.

Sunghoon made sure to keep a fine gap between you. This was new for both of you.

“I can’t believe you’re in my room right now,” you said, thinking out loud. He smiled. “Me neither.”

You sat up, turning towards him. “How come we’re actually getting along? I mean, I always thought you were a douche like Heeseung, but honestly, you’re not that bad.”

Sunghoon surely hadn’t expected to be perceived that way. He shrugged. “I guess it’s just my charming personality that really draws you Lee’s in.”

You threw your pillow his way, rolling your eyes at the ridiculous comment. “You’re delusional.”

Sunghoon caught the pillow and tossed it back at you. Yelping, you threw it back at him, this time more forcefully, and took another pillow in your hands to defend yourself. Sunghoon chuckled and got on his knees, raising the pillow above his head. “Are we seriously having a pillow fight,” he asked dubiously? You shrugged and hit him with your pillow. “I guess we are.”

He managed to dodge your next attack, lunging forward to slam his pillow on your head. You fell on your back, holding your pillow above your face protectively. Sunghoon whacked it out of your hands, toppling over and falling flat on top of you. He froze, as did you. You could feel his heart beating rapidly against your chest, breath hitching when he pushed himself up hovering over you. His eyes locked with yours, shining in the dark. You had no idea why you were having such a hard time looking away from him. Sunghoon’s eyes wavered from your eyes to your lips. Without so much as a second thought, he leaned down and pressed his lips to yours. You found yourself closing your eyes and kissing him back. Sunghoon grabbed your waist, moving his lips against yours passionately. The kiss escalated quickly, with you tugging at the hem of his shirt, wanting it off. Sunghoon sat up, pulling you with him and made you sit on his lap. He threw his shirt to the side, doing the same with yours. His lips were back on yours in a matter of seconds, fingers reaching behind your back to unhook your bra. He didn’t bother pulling it off, choosing to leave it be. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, playing with the hair on the back of his head. Sunghoon hummed as you rolled your hips over his. You could feel him starting to harden up underneath you. The sensation made wetness pool in your panties.

“Is the door locked,” he asked, pulling away from your lips for a moment? You glanced behind your shoulder. “I don’t think it is but what’s there to worry about? Heeseung sleeps like he’s dead anyway.”

Sunghoon laughed and kissed your shoulder, going down till the valley of your breasts. Your head fell back, lips parting in awe. Sunghoon groaned against your skin. He was going to cum in his pants if you kept grinding on him like that. So, he made you sit up, tugging your shorts down your legs. He pulled his own pants down, throbbing member slapping up proudly. You took it in your hands, angling his tip at your entrance. Sunghoon held your waist, biting his lip as you sunk down on his cock. He was bit, stretching you out incredibly. Sunghoon guided your hips over his cock, lips finding yours again. You moaned into his mouth, clinging onto him desperately. “Hmm you feel so good,” he praised, squeezing your thighs. You cursed and pulled his body close, nails digging into his shoulders. Sunghoon ran his tongue over your collar bone, sucking on it softly. You mewled and kept bouncing over his cock, feeling a knot begin to form in your stomach. “Are you close,” he asked, feeling the way your walls clenched around his cock? You nodded frantically, not able to form the words to say it. “Me too,” he said, starting to buck his hips up into you. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you warned a while later, toes curling in bliss. Sunghoon grunted, pulling your hips down on his one last time before his cum spurt out into your walls. You moaned, feeling your orgasm hit as a result. Sunghoon dragged your hips over his, riding out your high.

You smiled giddily, placing a small kiss on his lips. Sunghoon returned your smile, not wanting to let go of you. “This was nice,” you spoke, biting back a grin. Sunghoon agreed. “Your brother’s gonna kill me.”

- ♡ -

requested by anon

#sunghoon smut #enhypen smut #sunghoon imagines #sunghoon scenarios #sunghoon x reader #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #kpop smut

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curiousconch · 3 years

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Chase You / Chase Me (Pt. 2)

Part 2: Before I dive right into you

Catch up here: Series Masterlist

Chapter Summary: In the aftermath of their pretend wedding in Las Vegas, Gabe begins to unravel his growing feelings for Alex. But as he attempts to bring his past to light, someone from Alex's previous life casts a shadow on the future.

Book/Pairing: Choices - Laws of Attraction / Gabe Ricci x MC (Alex Keating)

Words: 2.4k+ (sorry 🙈)

Rating/Warnings: Mature (16+) / alcohol consumption, some swears

Disclaimer: Most of the characters as well as some dialogue belong to Pixelberry. I am merely borrowing them.

A little after 1 AM, Las Vegas

Gabe can't help but smirk at the look of mischief in Alex's eyes as they stood by a quiet spot in the middle of Las Vegas. With her in that glittery dress, he somehow can't bring himself to part from her yet.

He knew it wasn't only him who felt that tingling in his fingertips when he brushed her cheeks, her breath smelling strongly of martini. He was very aware that Alex felt the same when she stared back at him, standing at that cramped cheap chapel while an Elvis impersonator stood nearby. The moment she stepped away when he said that it's just all pretend made Gabe's heart ache with regret.

So here they were, standing awkwardly after he shot down her advances again.

But he was sure he didn't want the night to end here.

After calling for a car, he shoved his phone inside the pocket of his slacks and turned to Alex.

"I was serious when I said I wanted a celebratory drink," he glanced apologetically to his side where she stood. "Our hotel bar offers my favorite scotch."

Alex raised her head, smiling. "Knew you had it in you, Gabe."

A car ride and a couple of glasses of Lagavulin later, there they were, lounging on stools at their opulent hotel bar, warm lights and jazz music providing a backdrop on the casual atmosphere.

"And I could not believe the rat thing worked! Who would've known they kept a rat in there as a pet? Like really?" Alex raised her glass to her lips, as Gabe sat on the barstool beside her, cradling his own drink.

"Beginner's luck, I would believe," he chuckled in reply, leaning forward, tie loosened and his coat hanging at the back of his chair.

"I am so offended," Alex gasped as she shoved her hands flat on her chest in mock disbelief. "I'm not only the boring nerd when I was in high school, Gabe. I was that nerd who sang and dance at the drama club!"

Gabe shook his head, his lips pursing. "That makes so much damn sense, Alex." He took another swig of his third shot, fighting for dear life from laughing his heart out. Not wanting to give her that satisfaction, he threw a sarcastic dig at her remark. "That's so believable, seeing you could snatch an Oscar from Meryl Streep herself and the no one wouldn't even bat an eye."

"Ah, law was plan A, sir." she saluted, placing her empty glass on the bar counter. "Acting was a fallback in case it didn't pan out." she giggled.

Gabe grinned as he rolled up his sleeves, beckoning the bartender for another round. "You should have made it your plan A, seeing how you turned out," he teased, bringing up the fun bit they did to retrieve a copy of Lydia Rothswell's marriage certificate. The very same act that almost made Gabe kiss Alex in the middle of The Strip.

"Aww, Gabe, finally found a better lawyer than you? Feeling threatened yet?" Alex leaned in, snickering as their glasses were refilled. "Don't worry, I' ll settle for being a Junior Partner for now," she said as she reclined, before throwing in a playful wink.

"Well someone's head just became bigger," he gave her a smug look.

"Just trying to keep up with all the cockiness in the room," she smiled coyly, watching Gabe's stupefied expression. It was clear then that she scored a slam dunk at the championship of comebacks, laughing at his astonishment.

Gabe finally gave up, joining Alex in her laughter. As their joy receded, he let himself take in the sight of Alex without any inhibitions. What he was beginning to see was the extent of her wit, her ability to keep her cool, and the sharp humor that matched only his.

Under the warm light of the lounge, she brilliantly shone. He couldn't focus at what she was now saying as he danced at the appeal of them becoming more than colleagues. Perhaps he resisted his own feelings long enough that he was past the point of denial. Or simply because he was starting to get drunk.

Though before he can even begin to consider that, he was still sober enough to know that he first needed to tell her the truth.

The truth that sometime long ago, their paths have already crossed. And that he did something very horrible.

Call him cynical, but he wasn't kidding when he admitted he was an all-or-nothing kind of guy. And that meant laying down all his cards on the table. Because for him, Alex was more than the occasional one-night stand. And he can't be certain of how long he could keep himself from his budding feelings, all stakes be damned.

What better time to be honest when there was enough alcohol in his system to prevent all rational thinking? It's now or never, he figured.

"Alex, I -"

"Alessandra? Alessandra Keating?" a deep voice came from behind him, interrupting Gabe. He cocked his head to get a clearer view, as a man with slicked back blonde hair approached from a private booth nearby.

Without hesitation, the tall stranger in the dark suit stepped forward, his striking features Gabe would have easily recognized anywhere. That face was almost in every blockbuster movie in the last five years.

"Julian? What are you doing here?" Alex asked, as abashed as he was. Gabe saw how she clammed up the very second she recognized the man.

"Oh my, it really is you!" the man stopped beside Alex's bar stool, welcoming himself to their company. The way he was looking up and down at her made Gabe's jaw clench so hard, his teeth gritted. But the man's next movement stunned him all the more. In front of him, the man embraced Alex, making Gabe suddenly want to combust. His tumbler could've shattered if he tightened his grip on it a little more.

"Uhm, Julian, hi," Gabe surveyed Alex as she writhed within the man's arms, waiting for any signal from her so he could do something, anything, to make this man go away. But she assured him with one look, shifting a little, making the man who wedged himself between them release her.

"It's been so long! When was the last time I saw you, like, 12, 13 years ago?" the man exclaimed, his annoying smile making Gabe want to slam his fist somewhere. And it wasn't on the bar counter.

Gabe heard Alex scoff, fighting hard to regain her composure. "Yeah, high school," Her icy demeanor took over, one that Gabe only saw in the courtroom. She brushed her dress as she tilted her head to Gabe's direction.

The man turned to Gabe, the surprise evident as he acknowledged Gabe's presence behind him. The two men sized each other up sending an undercurrent of tension between them. Before Gabe could even consider acting out of impulse, Alex cleared her throat to diffuse his temper.

"Julian, this is Gabe. Gabe, this is Julian, my -"

"Ex," Julian interjected, before turning his attention to the lawyer. Apparently, this guy had a habit, Gabe observed. "We were together senior year. Alessandra, my angel, we had the best time together, didn't we? We looked good together, at least after Alex thought to improve her image here. Sadly, we had to break up. Teenage romances, you know?"

The picture couldn't be any clearer; this was the person Alex was speaking about during their dinner back in New York. And hearing the way he talked, no wonder Julian got under her skin. He was a damned manipulative pretentious liar. Gabe could hear the dishonesty between the words, not an ounce of authenticity in sight while the blonde hotshot rambled on.

Alex wasn't showing any sympathy either, her brown eyes staring daggers at him, as he went on about his monologue, emphasizing on how she was his back then. She was clearly infuriated by his attempt to own her, as well as his lack of shame. As Gabe quietly considered her reaction, he deliberated on a strategy to put her out her misery. The moment an idea came to mind, he gave Alex a subtle look asking her to back his play.

Alex nodded, sitting a little straighter. Finding the instant shift in her, Gabe made his move.

"Sweetheart," he slowly raised his voice as he said the endearment, enjoying the contempt from the other guy when he was interrupted. "You never told me Julian Wintour was your ex."

Alex smiled smugly, appearing pleased with the nickname Gabe chose, a clear pun on the whole high school sweetheart trope. "Never crossed my mind, babe. It's such an unimportant detail in my past," she waved her hand dismissively.

"Ah, nonsense," he finished his drink and gestured for the bartender to clean up. "Mr. Wintour's history would have made a good conversation starter." Gabe straightened his vest and stood, collecting his coat. He sauntered towards Alex, circling around the now speechless Julian. He draped his jacket over her shoulders, clearly making a statement before he reached for her hand, wrapping it in his.

"Why? Isn't the shiny nameplate of Senior Partner not good enough?" Alex expertly rode along, locking eyes with her former flame before gazing back at Gabe enticingly. "Forgive him, Julian. My lovely boyfriend here has a bad hobby of underselling himself," she smiled warmly, the irony of her statement eluding her ex. Gabe was about to smirk with her ingenuity, stopping when he felt her arm slowly wrapping around his waist. He barely stifled a groan at the intimacy of her touch.

The other man went beet red at the gesture. For embarrassment or infuriation or both, Gabe didn't fucking care. All he cared about was for Alex to slap this douche's face, metaphorically speaking.

"Anyway, Julian, it's been a pleasure. It's been a long night, and we're about ready to retire at our penthouse suite," steadily, she got up from her seat. The command in her was undeniable, forcing anyone to feel nothing but regret the day they decided Alessandra Keating wasn't good enough for them. Then with a flourish, she turned around as she let Gabe take her away from her past lover's scrutinizing gaze.

Inside the elevator, Gabe caught Alex's exhale of relief, probably thankful that Julian was out of her sight. Gabe still held onto her hand, though Alex didn't seem to notice. As they began their ascent, he waited for her to break the silence, deciding that the questions running in his mind can wait.

"I would have traded my rankings for the look of disbelief in Julian's face," Alex said turning to him, to which Gabe arched his brow.

He smirked devilishly, knowing Alex could take the hint. "I believe I could offer a sight better than that."

She grinned at the innuendo, further lightening up the mood between them. "One day, Gabe, I'll take you up on that," she said, crossing her legs as she leaned on the polished wall behind her. "Though I'm sure you're dying to know... How did I end up dating the Julian Wintour?"

Gabe pondered before answering. "Hmm, actually not the first one that comes to mind, no." He tapped against his temple. "I doubted you would ever bat an eyelash to his direction."

Her eyebrows rose. "Ah, you think so highly of me." She chuckled, shaking her head at his reply. "But yes, he was my ex. And yes, he was the red on my ledger. He was my first love," she admitted. "That ideal, once in a lifetime, true love everyone's talking about? Julian was it, or at least I thought he was." she sighed, glancing at her reflection on the polished metal panel beside her. "But when things started to go downhill for me, he was the first one to walk out," she paused, taking a deep breath. "By cheating on me."

Gabe's body went rigid, clenching his fists so hard until his nails dug unto his palms. What the fucking hell? I know I should have punched that guy's perfect teeth! He decided against airing his vengeful thoughts, staying quiet as he glimpsed at her image on the walls.

"Joey reminded me how Julian made me doubt myself. If I'm really over what he's done to me, if he's still in my head," she continued, rubbing at her nape. Gabe felt her gaze fall on him, which he reciprocated. "But after walking out from him tonight, I am much more certain that I made it out, after all."

Gabe felt her squeeze his hand as she said those words, and his heart somersaulted inside his chest. "So thanks. I needed that little nudge," she said in finality.

He turned to beam at her as he relished the triumph in her words, hoping that it was enough to convey that he was proud of her. And to be part of that discovery about herself, about who she always was in his eyes - someone who was his equal.

When they arrived at her floor, she gently freed her hand from his grasp invoking a sharp exhale from him. She stepped out of the elevator, her gait as undeterred as ever. But then she turned, her soft expression dimmed by the lack of light. "And while we're on the subject of appreciation," she uttered, before dropping one last revelation.

"Thanks for that save you also gave me ten years ago," Alex glanced up at him with half-lidded eyes, her words laced with meaning.

It took him a few moments before he could even comprehend what she was trying to convey. He searched her eyes for some explanation but found none. "What do you mean, Alex?" he said, managing to find his voice.

"I know exactly who you are, Gabriel Ricci."

With that, the doors slowly closed in front of him, her sly smile fading from his sight until he can only see his own reflection. He examined her last sentence, repeating the words over and over in his head. There was only one plausible explanation: she only knew half of the truth. His body sagged against the wall as he shut his eyes, angry at himself.

No Alex, I think you really don't.

Author's Notes: Thank you for your continued reading! As some of you may have already noticed, this part was written purely in Gabe's POV because I wanted to expose his conflicted feelings for Alex. It's probably my own version of revenge, with PB stretching that slow burn as much as they could 🤭 Share your thoughts in the comments, I'd really appreciate it! 💖

Taglist: @adiehardfan @pixelnutrookie @starryjieun @fucking-random1 @sarcastic01lily @spookycolorpeanut @ophrookie @suitfer

@choicesficwriterscreations

It's my first time tagging a couple of folks, so please inform me if I missed including you. Also, want to be added or removed from the tag list? No problem - just let me know 😊.

#choices laws of attraction #laws of attraction #choices laws of attraction fanfiction #laws of attraction fanfiction #choices fanfiction #choices fic writers creations #fics of the week #gabe ricci x mc #gabe ricci

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impala-dreamer · 4 years

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Hunger

SPN FanFic

~The Mark of Cain is starving for attention and Dean feeds it what, and when he can.~

Demon!Dean x Reader

3,250 Words

Warnings: NSFW! Demon!Dean. Smut. Rough, rough sex. Stripping. Filming of Sex. Masturbation. Deep Throat Fucking. Breath Control/Play. Rough Intercourse. Dean's a dick.

A/N: This is for my "Filming Sex" square on @spnkinkbingo 2020. Hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think ;)

2020 KinkBingo Masterlist ~ My Masterlist ~ Become A Patreon ~ Find My Original Works on Amazon

Dean walked out of the bar, leaving Crowley and his idiot minions behind. Last thing he needed was to be told what to do. He was too powerful and gave too few fucks now for that to be a thing. No one was gonna tell him what to do. Not ever again.

The brand on his arm ached constantly since he had been reborn, but he’d learned to ignore it, only letting the urge spike when he was in the mood or around a particularly annoying asshole that deserved to die. It wasn’t as if he just walked around dropping bodies, he still had some class. But, if he happened upon a douche that was asking for it...

That was how it went. Blood and more blood. Knuckle bruises fading, open wounds closing themselves. He was unstoppable. Fucking. Unstoppable.

But he was hungry.

Not the kind of hunger that could be soothed with a stop at a diner and topped off at a strip club. Dean was hungry for something familiar, something delicious and submissive, and wet.

The craving started when he realized where he was. Roads all looked the same and since he had no destination in mind, he just drove, ending up where he ended up. The white lines on the asphalt had been his friend and lead him right to her door.

Y/N would remember him, had to. He sure as fuck remembered her.

He remembered where her spare key was, too. Dean was careful to step around the devil’s trap that was painted underneath the weathered doormat on the porch as he reached for the key hanging behind the old window’s shutter. She might have grown up in The Life, might know how to keep ghosts out of her house, the common demon, but leaving a key right by her front door?

Dean shook his head and unlocked the door. “Imma have to talk to her about that.”

All it took was a quick hop over the mat and he was in.

The house was small like he remembered and just as cluttered. Still smelled like cloves, too. Well, that wasn’t gonna protect her from what he had in mind.

Somewhere down the hall a clock was ticking, a gentle click every second giving the place a rhythmic measure to fall asleep to. Dean’s footsteps fell on every other click; thick tread of his boots and heavy feet dropping onto the hardwood with an ominous thud.

Y/N was sleeping, lying on her back, empty face awash in the faint red light from her alarm clock. The thin sheet barely covered her, flowing like silk over each curve, tucked tight beneath her left knee. She breathed slowly; firm breasts rising and falling every fifth tick of the clock.

Dean slipped inside her room, silent and bathed in shadow. He looked around as she slept, unaware of his approach, not sensing anything as the air began to warm with his presence. Dean smiled as she rolled in her sleep, corner of the sheet dropping away to reveal a set of pale blue flannel pajamas.

“Always so cozy, Y/N/N,” he murmured, not bothering to keep his voice down.

She stirred, eyes fluttering wildly as Dean stepped up to the foot of the bed.

“Wakey wakey.”

She stretched and rubbed at her eyes with a tired hand. “Who’s there?” Her voice was caked with sleep, throat scratchy from hours of non use.

“Here there, Sweetheart.” His smile was dangerous but true. He had missed her; missed her heavy breaths as he clawed at her flesh, the muted whimpers as she screamed into her pillow. His stomach growled and The Mark ached as she blinked into the shadows, trying to place his silhouette and raspy voice.

“Dean?” Still groggy, she sat up and turned on the lap by her bedside, setting the room aglow. She was startled but glad to see him, instantly flashing a confused smile. “What are you doing here? How’d you get in?”

Dean chewed on his bottom lip for a second and let it slide back out slowly. “Yeah, about that-” He flicked his left hand and dropped the spare key between her knees on the bed. “You really need to hide that better. Never know who could just waltz in here.”

Y/N scooped up the key and clutched it in her fist. “Kinda like… an ex boyfriend?”

A smug laugh filled the room. “Yeah. One of those.”

The key fell onto the nightstand with a faint clank.

“So, what brings you to my bedroom in the middle of the night, Dean? You know I still have a cell phone, a few actually. It’s considered polite to call, especially after not calling for almost three years.”

Dean scratched at his jaw. “Yeah, about that-”

A click of her tongue interrupted him; her annoyance clear. “I heard you were dead. Sam dropped off the map, then suddenly everyone was back in action. Imagine my surprise when I didn’t get a phone call.”

“Well, Sam, hit a dog…”

Y/N rolled her eyes and threw back the blanket, tossing her feet over the side of the bed. “Ya know what? I don’t care.” Her bare feet sank gently into the carpet. “It was nice to see you, but… Get the fuck out of my house.”

Dean dipped his chin and looked up at her with big green eyes. “I just wanted to see you, Y/N/N, didn’t mean to piss you off.”

She softened but held her ground. “You just wanted to see me in the middle of the night in my bedroom? Come on, Dean.”

He moved closer, rounding the bed, big steps leading him to her side in a fraction of a second. “Well, I thought it would be rude to say I came to get some.”

She laughed and bit her lip as she looked away. “There’s the jerk I remember.”

Dean lifted his fingers to her cheek and surprisingly, she didn’t flinch away. “So…” He smirked and nodded towards the bed. “Shall we?”

Y/N took a step back and raised an eyebrow. “Are you kidding me? You break into my house-”

“I used the key.”

“-sneak into my bedroom-”

“I wasn’t that quiet. You’re a heavy sleeper.”

“-and now you’re like “hey baby, let’s do it”, and I’m supposed to what, rip my clothes off and suck your dick?”

Dean frowned as he thought up the scenario in his head, nodding when he decided it was good. “Yeah?”

The urge to slap him in his smug face was stopped only by the big thumb that traced her jaw. Y/N shivered, her eyes closing as memory washed over her. He was a good fuck, a good man, the best- but still.

“Get out,” she grit. “Now.”

The hand on her cheek dropped and Dean smacked his lips, looking slightly dejected. “You sure?”

She held her breath as he leaned closer, just tipping his chest towards her. She could smell his heat; the old familiar scent of the Impala and coffee lingering on his clothes. It was almost thick around him, that faint hint of aftershave, the cheap motel soap, the musk of him. Y/N’s head swam with thoughts of kissing him, of reaching up and pressing herself against him; breasts smashed against that hard, flanneled chest, tongues stroking with electric waves against each other. She closed her eyes and suddenly it wasn’t a dream anymore.

Dean closed the gap and gently placed his lips against hers, pushing just enough to catch her breath but staying back should she want to fight him off. Her right mind said to bring her knee up hard between his bowed legs, but her sleepy, dreamy, hazy brain said to open her mouth to him.

“That’s it,” he hummed as she wrapped a soft hand around the back of his neck. “You still taste so sweet.”

“And your breath still stinks,” she laughed, digging her nails into the base of his skull. He hissed and she licked at his mouth.

“Not that you care.” He pushed back then, swirling his tongue between her lips and stepping forward, forcing her back onto the bed. They sank together, Y/N’s legs opening automatically to make room for him. He rocked upwards, cock already half hard and pressing against his jeans. She moaned as the rough zipper rubbed through her pajamas, grinding up on her cunt.

“Fuck.” She breathed into his hair, face raising to the ceiling as his lips trailed down her throat; pearly teeth scraping over her pulse and nipping at her shoulder.

His voice was dry and cracked in her ear. “That was my plan.”

A giant hand closed over her left breast and Y/N’s entire body arched upwards, wanting to pull him deep inside, feel all of him. She moaned and called his name like a prayer. “Dean. Please.”

He was gone before she knew what happened, the mattress bouncing as his weight vanished.

“What the fuck?” She sat up, rubbing her eyes once more, this time clearing away the dampness of arousal. “Where are you going?”

Dean opened the buckle of his belt as he walked around the perimeter of the bed. “Just wanted a new angle.” He turned with a smirk and popped the brass button of his jeans.

Y/N smiled in a daze as she watched him move around, slowly finding the foot of the bed again. “How about you take those off and let me say hello?” She rolled onto her hands and knees and locked her eyes on his crotch; mouth watering at the idea.

“No.”

She looked upwards, a pout and confusion on her face. “W-why not?”

The tip of his tongue fit between his teeth and his smile was filled with devilish intent. He took his time answering, looking slowly around the room until he found something to play with: her old camcorder was tucked away on a shelf behind him.

Y/N watched curiously as he picked it up and blew the dust from its top. “What are you doing?”

He smiled as the power came on, and Dean trained the eye on Y/N. “Strip for me,” he said, voice deep as he hit record.

Her heart raced as the tiny red light came on, making her blush. “What? No.”

Green eyes lifted from the screen to her face. “Strip.”

The command was absolute and struck some chord deep inside; arousal pulsing in her cunt. “Yeah,” she said softly, “yeah, OK.”

Up on her knees in the middle of the bed, Y/N bit her lip as she opened the tiny buttons on her pajama top, careful not to reveal too much at once, wanting to give him a show.

Dean’s eyes flickered between the screen and real life; lips twitching with excitement as she got more into it, playing to the camera, exposing herself for him.

“Like this?” she asked, kicking the soft pants from her legs.

“Perfect.” He zoomed in, framing her body. “Lay back.”

Y/N swallowed deeply as she leaned back against the pillows. Sleep and his voice rang through her head, hitting every button inside, turning her on more than she thought possible. Without realizing it, Y/N had lifted a hand to her breast, slowly swirling her fingers across her stiffening nipples. Every pass made her shiver, but she remained frozen; eyes locked on Dean.

“That’s it,” he praised in a whisper, “such a good girl.”

Y/N hummed happily, her eyes closing a bit; sleepy and dazed. Her knees opened timidly as the heat grew; her left hand lazily drifting downwards.

“Yeah,” Dean urged. “Play with that pretty cunt for me. Show me how wet you can get.”

“Real wet,” she replied like a zombie, voice almost gone, breath heavy. “So wet, Dean.”

He grinned and zoomed in, capturing the slow press of her fingertips against her clit. Her skin glistened, damp and delicious. “Is that all for me?”

Y/N nodded helplessly and slid her middle finger deep inside, knuckles disappearing into her tight flesh. “Yeah. For you.”

Dean stared hard, cocking his head as she fucked herself for the camera, for him. He let the image burn into his brain so that every blink left him with a reminder of her perfect cunt.

When she began to moan, fingers working faster, legs shaking with effort, Dean called to her, stepping back from the bed.

“Enough. Come here.”

Y/N sat up almost automatically, hands dropping to the mattress as she rolled over and crawled to him, her chin up towards the camera, her eyes rolling, pussy juices dripping down her legs.

Dean unzipped his jeans and let them fall, stopped only by the tops of his boots.

“Flip over,” he ordered, yanking his boxers down. “Head over the side.”

Y/N held her breath as she got into position, back flat on the bed, neck stretching parallel to the floor as her head hung down over the edge.

Dean fisted his cock and pumped a few times, watching the pulse in her exposed throat beat faster. “Perfect. Open up.”

He aimed the camera downwards, immortalizing the moment he slid inside her waiting lips. She moaned happily as he pushed deep inside, watching as his cock passed down her throat, pushing at her delicate skin from the inside out. She choked as her neck bulged, and Dean thrust harder.

“Fuck, so deep.” His hips snapped against her forehead, shaking her entire body as he fucked her mouth without care.

She lost her breath as he went deeper; spit rolling down her cheeks, thicker with every push of his thick cock. When her lungs began to protest, she tried to scream, to warn him, but all that came out was a meek whine. She clawed at the sheets, then his hips, digging her nails into the dips of his waist, begging for a break.

The camera shook as Dean bent over, hooking one foot on the bed and dipping down deep. The new angle allowed her a single breath, but no true relief as her lips began to swell and her throat went numb around him.

“So good, Sweetheart,” he growled, pulsing the tip of his dick between her puffy lips. “My own little pornstar. Taking my cock like a pro.”

A final cry pushed up from the back of her throat and Dean showed an ounce of mercy, pulling free of her tight mouth with a wet pop. He zoomed close on the red mess that was her lips; cheeks stained by lines of spit, jaw sore and hanging.

“So beautiful.” He stood up and let the lens trail down her naked body. “Think I’ll wreck that pussy next. Scoot up, spread your legs.”

Invisible strings moved her body; Y/N couldn’t consciously decide to move a muscle, but she went, setting her ass in the middle of the bed, giving her neck a rest against the soft comforter.

Dean placed the camera back on the shelf, careful to aim it perfectly at the bed. “Now, let’s get down to business.”

Y/N lay there, waiting, drifting, empty. She felt the bed dip as Dean crawled over her, felt the heat from his now bare chest as it pressed down onto her. His lips were hot on her ear. His breath heavy, voice rough.

“Smile pretty for the camera, girl.”

She held in a scream as Dean pushed away, up on his knees as he thrust into her, thick cock stretching her open. She tensed at the pain and he smiled, green eyes blinking to black.

“Dean!” Fright and confusion ran through her veins and she pushed at his arms, trying to get away. “What the fuck!”

The oil slick remained as Dean fucked her harder, one giant hand pinning her wrists together above her head, the other closing over her mouth. “Shhh.” He smirked. “Thought you knew, Sweetheart. Haven’t been keeping up with the gossip much, I see.”

Y/N bit down hard on his palm and he flinched, pulling away. “Exorcizamus te!”

Dean laughed and wrapped his long fingers around her throat, cutting off her words. “That ain’t gonna work,” he sneered, leaning close so his breath flowed over her lips. “I’m not possessed. Just better.”

She gasped, eyes wide and unfocused. “Dean!”

His grip loosened but his thrusts did not ease, ramming into her without pause or finesse. He set his eyes on the lens as they flipped back to pure green; playing for the camera, upper lip pulled back into a sneer as her body tightened around him.

“Oh, gonna cum for me?” His laugh was dark, his fingers bruising her skin wherever they fell. “Can’t help it, can you?”

Y/N shook her head in protest, but couldn’t resist, hips rising to meet every push, bliss growing like a firecracker in her gut. “Please...harder.”

Dean laughed and let her hands go as he readjusted, holding himself up above her. “That’s my girl.”

“Fuck!” The fire would not hold and Y/N came with a scream, entire body shaking as the pleasure ran upwards, blanking out any care of the danger that fucked her senseless.

Dean grunted as she clenched down on him. “Oh, just like that. Fuck.”

He moved impossibly faster, slamming into her so hard each pop took her breath away. He tore into her, not relenting until he pulled another orgasm from her. Her eyes rolled and her legs fell weak against his thighs.

With a growl, Dean pulled out and fisted his cock, watching her heaving chest as he pumped himself. “Don’t move.”

She moaned, head lolling to the side as he came, spraying hot and creamy white against her belly and tits.

When he was done, Dean leaned down and scooped up his mess with two fingers, bringing it to her lips. “Clean yourself up.” He shoved his hand into her mouth and she licked, mindlessly sucking him clean, swallowing him down. “That’s fucking hot as fuck, Y/N. Makes me wanna go again.”

She moaned pitifully, spent and trapped beneath him.

“But...nah.”

Suddenly, he was gone and the cold air washed across her body. “W-where are you going?” She tried to turn, but her body ached; every bit of her exhausted and limp.

“Why the fuck should I tell you?” he asked, half amused by her question.

“I- Dean...what happened to you?”

He laughed to himself as he zipped up and tossed the flannel over his shoulders. “Long story,” he said absently, “and I don’t feel like stickin’ around for the pillow talk.”

“Dean-”

He ignored her, reaching into the camcorder to take out the tape. “Here,” he said, tossing the mini film onto her stomach. “Something to remember me by.”

She rolled over just in time to see him open the door, slipping back into the dark hallway just as quietly as he came. “Dean!”

The roads were all the same; white lines and black top, bit of debris kicking the tires. Dean drove fast and reckless beneath the bright moon, not a care in his head, no destination in mind.

His stomach growled and he searched the exit sign for a rest stop.

The Mark burned but he ignored it. He’d find some shithead to sink his blade into before the sun came up, of that he was sure. But for now- a burger would do.

2020 Forever Tags:

@67-chevy-baby @akshi8278 @akhuna01 @amanda-teaches @because-imma-lady-assface @blondemarvelchick @blushingjared @broiderie @burningcoffeetimetravel @classic-rock-angel @coopercharlie16 @cosicas-cuquis @covered-byroses @crashdevlin @deansgirl215 @deans-baby-momma @deangirl7695 @deanwanddamons @deanwinchesterswitch @defenderrosetyler @desiree---1986 @dolphincliffs @dontshootmespence @edge-oftonight @emoryhemsworth @eternal-elir @fandom-princess-forevermore @feelmyroarrrr @flamencodiva @focusonspn @herbologystudent252 @heycasbutt @hornyandsmol @ilovefanfic86 @i-love-superhero @ilsawasanacrobat @imjustadrummer @ivvitm1109 @joseyrw @justagirlinafandomworld @justcallmeasmodeus @katymacsupernatural @laxe-from-outer-space @leatherandfrackles @lessons-of-red @letsby @letsdisneythings @lonewolf471 @maddiepants @mariekoukie6661 @meganwinchester1999 @missjenniferb @mrswhozeewhatsis @mummybear @onethirstyunicorn @our-jensen-ackles-love @screechingartisancashbailiff @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @starboycas @stephaniecanfield96us @stoneyggirl @squirrelnotsam @thebookisbtr @thehardcoveraddict @thevelvetseries @veevm @winchestersister55 @wendibird @winecatsandpizza @winterpoohbear

#demon!dean #demon!dean x reader #dean x reader #spnkinkbingo 2020 #one shot #smutt

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weightlessrosewrites · 4 years

Text

Writing Prompt #4

You die, and death appears before you to guide you to the afterlife. You expect a dark and cruel creature, like they tell of on Earth, but he's actually... A dork. He's a pale, skinny kid with dark hair falling into his eyes, and wearing jeans and a hoodie. Tw: Mention’s of death in beginning. Masterlist ----------------- I stood beside my body, which was sprawled out across the road. A frown graced my lips as I watched my mother sob into my uncles arms. My bestfriend stood silently, tears sliding down her face. I was twenty-four, life cut short because of some douche bag who sped up as I crossed the intersection with my friend. I pushed her out of the way and died for it, but... At least I can say my life was worth something. I looked around, the paramedics were just arriving, but it was absolutely to late.

" Hey... " I looked up sharply, now noticing there was a guy I've never seen before, looking at me. I quirked a brow. " You can see me? " He nodded, smiling slowly. " I'm Death. I've come to take you to the afterlife. What did you believe in? "

I tilted my head, confused. " What do you mean by that? What afterlife I believed in? " He nodded. " What you believed in, is where I'll take you. " " What happens if you didn't really.. believe in anything? " I responded, walking over without a second glance at my body.

Death tilted his head. " Well, then you'll come with me. It's not often I find someone like you. " I shrugged, " Works for me, I guess. "

Now that I thought about it as I stared at him, Death was kind of... cute, in that dorky way. I followed as he walked through a dark space that looked suspiciously like a door. " Did you feel fulfilled at all? With your life cut short? " Death asked suddenly, but I didn't answer straight away. Instead I stayed silent, thinking. Had I? It's not like my life was much... I had my mom, my uncle and his kids, and then my best friend. They had always been all I needed, so I answered him.

" Yes, my life wasn't worth much, but I did what I enjoyed, and in the end, I saved my best friends life.. If I hadn't then I'd definitely have regrets. " Death regarded me with a curious expression. " Are you scared of death? " He asked. I shook my head. " No. I was more scared of loosing my friend, but I'm glad it was me. She's going to do great things in the future, I just know it. "

" I see... You're very noble T.J. " Death turned away and pushed what I thought was just a regular piece of dark space open to reveal what looked like a living room/foyer. I looked around. " This is really nice. " I commented, slowly spinning in a circle as the, what I dubbed as a shadow door, disappeared. " You think? " I looked over at Death, who looked surprised. " Yeah dude, it's really nice. Definitely not what I was expecting. " I chuckled slightly.

" I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, it's rather bright and homey, not at all what you'd think when looking at myself. " He mused, smiling. I grinned, content. This wasn't going to be as bad as I thought it'd be. " So, how often do you come across people like myself? " Death picked up a ghostly looking tabby. " Not very often. I only have two others living here with me. A guy and a girl. " " oh yeah? That's pretty cool. " I said as I watched him shrug, setting the cat down again. " They're nice. Eos and Max. I think you'll fit right in. " He smiled at me, and I smiled back. " I think so too. "

---

I walked around the house with Eos. " So, what's Death like? " The small girl peered up at me through her mess of blonde hair. " Death? Well... He's sort of like.. He's like big brother. He's kind, a dork, and really sweet. He may seem like he doesn't care, but he does! And he has shy moments. " She responded, smiling happily.

I smiled, but it seems like Death's personality was different to what that person needed. But I ruffled her hair anyways, causing her to giggle. " I have to ask, but what gender are you, T.J.? " Eos asked me with the cutest expression ever. I smiled at her. " I'm gender fluid, but I don't expect you to understand that completely considering how young you are. You can use he or she, I don't mind. " I pushed my bangs behind my ears and smiled at her reassuringly, as she wore a confused expression. It didn't last long as her smile returned. " okay! I'm going to go play with my dolls now. " I chuckled. " Alright, go ahead. " I watched her run off with a smile.

---

I flopped down on Max's bed and he groaned from underneath me. " T.Jaaayyyyyyy. " Max whined groggily. " I was sleeping dude. " I smiled cheekily. " yeah, I know. I have a question, now that I've been here awhile. " He only groaned again from below me as he shifted to shove me off him. " Alright, the hell is it? It better be good. " Max grumbled, running a hand through his straight, black hair to shove it out of his face, clearly showing displeasure at being woken. I chuckled softly. " What's Death's personality like? "

Max was silent for a few moments, clearly caught off guard. He looked out his window into the dark field. It was always dark here. " Death is.. interesting. He's mostly quiet, and since people die all the time, he's not around often, so it gets a little lonely with just Eos and myself, and I'm actually sort of... Happy he brought you back, but.. his personality? It's kind of hard to gauge. " He said slowly after a moment, really thinking out his response. " If I had to describe him, I'd say he would be a moody, young adult who didn't grow out of the goth phase. "

I snorted. " Like you're one to talk. " - " Shut up! " Max huffed. " But that's how I'd describe him. He's kind, bu definitely on the moody side... But if you're down, you can vent to him and he'll comfort you to the best of his abilities. It'll take time to heal from dying, and you'll miss your live family for a long time so.. Don't hesitate to talk to him about it. The thing you turn into if you do let it get to you is not... pretty. "

I tilted my head and gave Max a confused look. " What do you mean? " I asked, but Max only shook his head. " It's a touchy subject, for Death especially, but we used to have another guy living here. He and Death were really tight. " I watched Max lean against the wall, blowing his hair out of his eyes again. " I'm not sure what happened, but.. I guess the loss got to him one day, and he just.. I don't even know what it was, but Death had to.. I wouldn't say kill, because you can't technically die a second time but at the same time, that's kind of what it was. Death was really distraught, and it still upsets him. "

I nodded slowly. " I see... So, what was his name? " Max looked at me. " His name was Allistor. Had the funniest accent ever, and man could he drink. " I watched him chuckle, and smiled slightly, though an odd feeling bubbled up. I had an uncle named Allistor, he was Scottish. Though I wasn't related to him by blood, he was still family. I must have had a conflicted look on my face because Max asked me what was wrong.

" Pardon? " I asked. " I said, what's up dude? You have the most conflicted look I've ever seen on someone. " Max furrowed his brows, looking at me concerned. " I just.. I had an uncle named Allistor, he was Scottish and married my uncle, adopted a couple kids with him. He had a drinking problem, and that's why he passed away young, but he was a really nice guy. "

Max gave me the look. You know the one, like someone's seen a ghost? Ironic since that's what we were. " And he's where I got my.. you know, not believing in any after life deal. " Max shook his head. " That was totally your uncle. Holy fucking shit dude. "

I sighed softly. " Well, back to Death's personality. Please. " " Right, I went over moody, young adult who never grew out of goth, he's kind... He's quiet, oh yeah. Death is ridiculously sweet. Definitely dorky in his own way. " Max nodded to himself. " A good guy all around once you get under that layer of protectiveness. "

I nodded and raised my fist to him. " Thanks bro, sorry for disturbing you. " Max shook his head, fist bumping me. " Nah bro, I understand. He's an interesting dude, I totally get wanting to understand him more. "

I smiled and got up, bidding Max goodbye and leaving. That was definitely not something I expected to hear, my poor uncle. He really missed his kids and husband. It made my unbeating heart hurt.

---

I knocked on Death's door, hoping he was home. I was lucky and he was. " Come in. " He called, so I pushed the door open with a sheepish expression. " Hey... " He looked up from the book he had in his hands, a black smoke slowly curling off it. " I know that look. " He sat up, setting the book down and pat the spot beside him. " What's up? " I was silent for a moment, sitting down. How was I to word this? I didn't want to upset him. " I was talking to the other two, get to know you via their points of view, and I learned something that kind of... made my heart hurt a little bit. I was told not to ask you.. but I'm really curious. "

Death studied me for a second. " If this is about Allistor... I don't exactly want to talk- " " -He was my uncle. " I interrupted boldly, and instantly felt incredibly stupid. Death completely stopped. Froze up. I wanted to back out and leave now. I wanted to die again.

" I.. see. " Was all Death said, and I immediately started apologizing profusely, but he only smiled bitterly and waved me off. " Don't worry, I thought there was something about you that I liked. " I sighed. " I'm sorry, I just... Was curious. That's all. " Death nodded. " I completely understand. He was happy, but he let the loneliness eat at him. I've never had kids, so I didn't know what it was like to miss them. " I nodded and Death smiled sheepishly, which made my dead heart race. I couldn't get over how gorgeous this man was.

Apparently he noticed too. " You're blushing, did I do something wrong? Say something wrong? " Death asked, concern filling his voice. I panicked. " No no! You're fine! I just can't get over how gorgeous you are, really it's a crime! " I said quickly, and went redder. I watched as his pale cheeks slowly tinged red. " I uh.. That was unexpected? "

Great, I embarrassed him. I covered my face in embarrassment. " I'm sorry - I didn't mean too - Gods forget I said that. " I fumbled with English. Had English always been that difficult? Probably. But instead of shooing me away, Death laughed, and I peeked through my fingers. Gods, that was a beautiful sound.

" I-I know what afterlife I believe in. " I said blurted out, making Death look at me with a puzzled expression. " Oh? " " The afterlife I-I believe in is with you. " Death slowly went red again. " That's-That's fine with me. " I watched him lean over and give my forehead a chaste kiss. I covered my face in embarrassment and he chuckled.

This was exactly what I wanted in life. To share mine with someone equally as dorky and awkward as myself. Sure, I missed my mother, my best friend, my uncle and my two cousins. I missed them dearly, but it was something I could live with. I know I'll see them again one day.

I'll continue looking over them all until their time comes. And when that happens, I'll introduce Death as the love of my life.

#original characters #original fic #oc #writing prompt

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bananashemmo · 5 years

Text

Believe

Pairing: Y/N/Luke

Rating: All

Request: No

Words: 2.300+

Summary: Y/N has recently gotten out of a relationship and has a hard time trying to believe in love. That changes when she meets Luke, a socially awkward nerd with the inexperience of true love.

Read ‘Believe’ on Wattpad here

Sometimes, you’d question yourself whether or not a change was a new direction to where your life was heading. You had never been fond of a change, nor trying to figure out new sides of your personality.

Dealing with a breakup was definitely not the start of your Summer Break you had predicted. You had been looking forward to it for so long, the sudden 6 weeks went from being short to suddenly unmanageable.

You had the feeling of just wanting to disappear.

Dragging your tired body into the dark hallways, a heavy sigh came from your plump lips. You gazed over your shoulder to see the last bit of sun stream in through the door as it was automatically closed.

Maybe this was your destiny. Maybe it was time for a sudden change. You had to socialize.

Shaking your head carefully by your own thoughts almost making you regret waking up this morning you headed towards the familiar tattoos and a sudden shaved head.

“Calum?” You didn’t want to sound like you couldn’t recognize your best friend. Even from miles apart you could tell it was him standing, but the sudden shave of his beautiful curls made you gaze confused.

“Y/N?” His eyes parted from the book in his hands and he reacted to your voice.

“Oh my god, you’re here.”

You were engulfed in a large hug, almost knocking the breath out of you and you could barely wrap your arms around him. He had gotten bigger during the Summer.

Made kind of sense considering the many fitness snaps he had been sharing both privately and on his Snapchat stories.

“Of course,” You spoke as if it wasn’t weird, “I mean, I couldn’t just skip the third semester and go straight for the forth.”

He was wearing his significant grin, something you had actually missed. It if wasn’t for the fact you had spent at least three weeks in Spain with your family during the break, you would have visited him more often.

“What have you been up to?” He asked and cocked his head to the side, “None of us saw the shadow of you after you broke up with Adam? I mean, of course, we understood the heartbreak and everything. You practically lived together and suddenly he cut you off like you meant nothing to him.”

“I think I just needed to find myself.” You folded your lips together by the mention of Adam. Just his name made you gush and not in a good way.

You looked towards the hallways that never seemed to end. People were walking around and greeting each other like they hadn’t seen each other in months. Which indeed was the truth.

Your friends had been trying to update you on everything since you had been taking distance. You wanted to go out and have fun, you wanted to feel better but you needed to do it in your own pace.

Having the same group of friends when it came to Adam caused the table to flip. People were picking sides depending on whether they had been speaking to Adam or you first. It was like a never-ending story and drama you just wanted to take a distance from.

The only one you were truly still keeping contact with was Calum. He understood you on a whole other level and knew how you were feeling.

“It’s totally understandable. He was your first love after the douches you had been dating. Not to mention it lasted two years. It’s so easy saying ‘you’ll get over it’ because nobody will ever understand your situation unless they’ve been dealing with the same.”

“Exactly.” You folded your lips together and nodded.

One of the hardest things to answer when being questioned about the breakup was the most simple one. Why? Why did you break up? If you had the actual answer you would give it.

But to be honest, even after weeks apart, you still didn’t fully understand the breakup.

“You know what I say,” He reached his arm forward as an invitation and you hooked your arm around his.

“You just gotta carry on.”

You rolled your eyes deeply by his comment and shook your head with a small laugh.

“See,” He grinned to himself, “I always know how to make you smile even when you’re in your saddest moment.”

You nodded your head in agreement and started to walk down the hallway with him.

“And trust me when I say this. I know this is going to be the start of something new in your life.”

You looked up at met his chocolate brown eyes. No matter how many times you said it, somehow Calum always seemed to be right about his sayings. You just doubted this one.

“Hopefully.” You stopped in track when you walked into the familiar lecture hall that never seemed to either be renovated or cleaned. It looked identically to the one you waved goodbye at weeks ago.

You walked up to the stairs with Calum in your heels and found your tables furthest to the right, closest to the wall. You never liked sitting in front but you still had to sit close enough to read what was on the large board.

“Hello everyone,” Professor Manila greeted with a large smile on her face.

She looked between the many familiar faces but also the ones she hadn’t noticed before. It was also hard to tell people apart, some had been getting a nice sunburn while others had changed their colors over the summer.

You leaned your head against the wall and played with the ink marker between your fingers.

“Calum...” You mumbled more to yourself than him when your eyes adverted towards the entrance of the lecture hall.

Calum folded his lips together and followed your eyes, parting his lips when he noticed the familiar face walk into the room.

Adam was grinning almost from top to toe, laughing about something when he came into the room and high-fived one of his friends. He was definitely seeming to be feeling much better than you.

“Y/N...” Calum cooed quietly and tried to tear your eyes away from the scene.

“It’s been weeks. It’s not weird that he’s been moving on...”

“What if he’s dating that girl Camille? I mean, he told me for four weeks that it was simply just a friend. A friend like you. And what happens after we break up? He does nothing but sees her and hangs out with her.”

“Y/N-,” Calum tried to interrupt you, wanting you to calm down.

“I bet he’s already slept with he-,” You stopped yourself from going too far and shook your head in disbelief.

This was not the time to cry. Not in front of everyone and you hadn’t been crying for the past two weeks.

You shut your mouth and leaned back in your seat with a sigh. You thought it was only a coincidence but your eyes met Adam’s and even if it was just for a second your heart skipped a beat.

You didn’t want him to still have that effect on you. You hated it.

You watched him in the corner of your eye take a seat by one of the tables and placed his MacBook on top of it. He had gotten the new one which wasn’t a shocker to you considering how materialistic he could be.

Your eyes adverted back to Professor Manila who was trying to use her remote correctly.

“I know that we’ve literally just started and you can still feel the soreness in your muscles from all the beers you have been drinking throughout the Summer. But since this is our third semester, we’re not going as easy as we did back in our first one.”

You could feel a gutted feeling run up your spine and you looked over at Calum unsure.

This was the problem with Professor Manila. She was so unpredictable and she loved experimenting with her classes.

“So I’ve decided to kick off this semester you’re going to work in pair of two for a 5-week long project. It’s going to be something you’ll be working at on your free time and something you can get guidance here at my classes.”

“Oh my god, this is not helping on my migraine.” You wanted to sink further into your chair, the hair on your head turning grey.

“This could be very dangerous.” Calum nodded his head in agreement, infatuated with the idea.

“Don’t you think we can pick our partners ourselves?”

“I don’t think life is that easy after what I’ve experienced the last couple of weeks.”

You crossed your arms and pulled your black Wood Wood hoodie closer to your body. You didn’t know why you were still wearing it. It was a gift from Adam on your birthday.

“I’ve decided to pair you up with someone you have never spoken to before. Which of course was difficult but I managed to pair you up with the ones I can tell you’re not familiar with.”

You didn’t know if you wanted to breathe out in relief or be sad about the fact you couldn’t work with Calum. You had the same mindset and found yourselves at the same level.

Your eyes adverted towards the board when Professor Manila opened the word document where she kept the groups.

You had to scan the whole list until you spotted your own name at the bottom of it and you furrowed your eyebrows confused.

“Which one is Luke Hemmings?” You almost whisper-yelled, looking over at Calum with wide eyes.

“Who is Laila Burgess?” Calum interrupted you and stopped when he heard who you mentioned.

“Luke Hemmings? You’re in for a treat and I’m not sure it’s in a good way.”

You followed Calum’s finger as he pointed towards the direction by the large windows. You furrowed your eyebrows confused at first but then you noticed the almost fragile boy sit with his shoulders tense.

“That’s Luke Hemmings?” You had to ask just to be sure, glancing over at Calum with doubt.

“That, my friend, is Luke Hemmings. Socially awkward, pretty nerdy if you ask me, probably the one with the highest points here at campus. He barely speaks to everyone but when I think about it he’s a swimmer.”

“A swimmer? He doesn’t look like a swimmer.” You mumbled in confusion and stood up when Professor Manila encouraged everyone to stand up and meet the person you were going to work with.

You looked up at Calum in confusion when he pushed you by the shoulders and encouraged you to speak to him.

You wouldn’t call yourself talkative but if he was socially awkward and quiet, you would need to keep up the conversation.

You carefully walked towards his table where he was still sitting, scanning his book as if he hadn’t noticed that everyone else was greeting each other.

You looked over your shoulder for help from Calum’s side but he was already in deep conversation with whom you assumed to be Laila.

“Goddammit.” You muttered below your breath and exhaled deeply.

Poking him carefully on his navy blue sweater that was covering a dress shirt you assumed to be white from the collar it took him a few pokes to acknowledge your presence.

“Hello.” You almost said awkwardly, looking down at the blond-haired boy in confusion.

“uh-,” He almost looked ten times more nervous when his eyes met yours and he pushed up the glasses on his nose.

He didn’t say any form of greet but instead, he clumsily closed his book and stood up from his table. He nearly knocked his legs into the table during the progress and that was when you noticed the significant height difference.

Suddenly it made sense he was a swimmer with that body.

“I’m Y/N.” You reached your hand forward and he looked at is as if he had seen a ghost.

“I’m your partner.”

He looked over your shoulder just to see that his name was paired with yours, his eyes glancing back at you and his curls were almost sticking to his glasses.

“I’m-, Sorry.” He had to scratch his eyes for a second and his cheeks were becoming a permanent red color.

“Sorry. That’s an unusual name.” You mumbled to yourself and he almost looked like he had made the biggest mistake on his behalf.

“I’m sorry! I mean, my name is Luke.”

His tall frame almost hovered over you as he shook your hand, the sleeve of his shirt almost covering his large hand. His fingers were warm you noticed, you almost believed that he was sweating.

“Nice to meet you, Luke. You’re ready for this project?”

He nodded his head almost too desperately, his curls bouncing.

You laughed quietly to yourself and looked back towards the board. Calum was right about his sayings. He was definitely socially awkward and seemed rather nervous around you.

You looked back at Luke who was staring at you almost more than necessary. His cheeks were blushing more than the red letters on the front page of his book.

“What’s wrong?” You cocker your head to the side and looked at him confused.

“Nothing...” He shook his head embarrassed.

“You’re just pretty.”

You weren’t sure if you were hearing correctly and your eyes gazed towards Adam where he was standing with his back leaning against the wall.

He was almost hovering over Camille. What a coincidence they were working together. It was like Professor Manila had predicted everything.

You knew you shouldn’t be staring but you couldn’t help yourself and when he looked towards your direction your eyes fell to the floor.

You could tell he was still staring at you so your eyes adverted up to Luke instead. He was having a nervous look on his face. You probably had to get used to it.

“So Luke... How about my place after classes?”

He didn’t say anything else but nod his head, his curls bouncing and he quickly took a seat back on his chair. He was a complete clumsy fool, almost knocking the chair in the process.

It amazed you that nobody had noticed him before. He was unavoidable.

Walking back to your seat you gave him a careful smile. This was going to be a long five weeks project.

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justtheendoftheday · 4 years

Text

The Return of the Living Dead (1984)

“Why do you eat people?”

“Not people. Brains.”

—————————————

The army accidentally sends a tank containing the mysterious chemical 245-Trioxin to a medical supply warehouse in Kentucky. But when the tank springs a leak the dead begin to reanimate and go on the hunt for human brains!

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Fright: 2 / 5 Dead-end Jobs

Personally I find this one to be too over-the-top to be particularly scary. But there certainly are some creepy scenes, especially for those with lighter tolerances for scares.

But generally most of the scares the movie has come more from a spooky sight or a creepy idea than from a constructed atmosphere of fright.

Admittedly I could see it contributing to someone’s fear of their basement though. Because if I saw a tarman zombie lurch out of the shadows in my basement I would lose my shit.

Gore: 3 / 5 Brains

As you can expect from a zombie movie, there’s some gore.

Although the gore is a bit tame by today’s zombie movie standards. There’s just a few scenes that are going a long way to tip the ratings scale higher than the majority of the film would otherwise warrant.

[Expect a little blood, a medical model of dog that’s been laterally bisected to show interior anatomy, two spooky-looking reanimated corpses that get a fair bit of screen time and received a lion’s share of the effects budget, a shot of some brains, some people getting bitten into, and what I can only describe as a scene where pacman gets his head sawed off.]

Jump Scares: Almost none

There’s one scene where they have a bit of a “Surprise!” moment. But that’s about as far as it goes. There isn’t anything that I’d consider a heavily constructed “I’m gonna make this audience jump so hard!” jump scare.

Maybe just a couple light startles.

—————————————

Review:

The Return of the Living Dead is an incredibly enjoyable punk-themed 80s-horror romp and secretly one of the most influential zombie movies ever made.

Thoughts:

In today’s world of horror movies I would argue that there are 3 primary styles of zombies:

Romero

Rabies

The Return of the Living Dead

Romero and company may have created the modern concept of a zombie, but the pop culture image of a zombie is actually a mashup of all three.

For instance?

The dead coming back to life to feast on the living? Romero.

If you get bit by a zombie you become a zombie? Rabies.

To kill a zombie you must remove the head or destroy the brain. Romero. [although it’s an equally efficient way to killing most anything.]

And last but not least, the one that is utterly unique to The Return of the Living Dead:

BRAINS!

Even though zombies are now famous for their love of eating brains, it’s a feature that is exceedingly rare in zombie movies. And it started right here!

With this very movie!

I bring up this bit of trivia because, a) it’s interesting, b) it’s fun to talk about zombies, and c) because it goes to show that The Return of the Living Dead is a movie that plays by its own rules.

And that’s what makes it so much friggin’ fun.

Although it’s also what makes it a tricky film to describe properly.

It’s often described as a Horror Comedy, but I’d say it’s not a comedy in the sense that Shaun of the Dead is a comedy, but more of how An American Werewolf in Paris is a comedy? I'd say it’s more fun than funny.

And it’s not really a straight horror movie like Night of the Living Dead was, because it’s more spooky than scary.

To make it even trickier, I also feel like it sits right near that edge of what separates a really good movie from a movie that’s enjoyable due to how derpy it all is.

You get the sense at times that if they had just played everything as a straight piece of horror it would have been an enjoyable—yet rather cheesy—bit of 80s B-horror.

But because they never take themselves too seriously, all the pieces are allowed to come together. All those moments that would have been awkward or clunky or absurd before, suddenly fit perfectly into place.

Take the character of Trash for example.

Trash is part of a group of local punks and is...uh...pretty open with her sexuality. At one point the group is partying and she starts taking off her clothes and dancing.

When that sort of thing happens in a horror movie it’s hard not to roll your eyes a bit and go, “Oh, jeeeeez. Leave it to a horror movie to throw in some gratuitous nudity.”

But then events unfold and she never really manages to get her clothes back on. And not because she just dies immediately afterward (which is what would normally happen in an 80s horror movie)! It’s just that she never really gets the opportunity.

And thus what would have normally been a bit of gratuitous nudity, is taken to the next level and—whether intentionally or not—suddenly starts to work as an almost satirical look at the way nudity is so often featured in Horror movies.

Basically this is a movie that delights in thwarting your expectations.

Which makes it 80s punk overtones all the more fitting. It mocks authority, loves defying conventions, and embraces a certain style of “we’re all fucked, so we might as well just have some fun.”

—————————————

Content warnings: No animals die in the movie but a handful of already dead ones get reanimated, a character spends the majority of the movie naked.

After-credits scene?: None

—————————————

Directed by: Dan O’Bannon

[ The Resurrected (1991) ]

Story by: Rudy Ricci, John Russo, and Russell Streiner

Screenplay by: Dan O’Bannon

[ Alien (1979), Invaders From Mars (1986), Total Recall (1990) ]

Edited by: Robert Gordon

[ The Blue Lagoon (1980), Toy Story (1995) ]

Cinematography by: Jules Brenner

[ Teen Wolf Too (1987) ]

Country of Origin: USA

Language: English

Setting: Louisville, Kentucky, USA

Sequels:

Return of the Living Dead Part II (1988) Return of the Living Dead 3 (1993) Return of the Living Dead: Necropolis (2005) Return of the Living Dead: Rave to the Grave (2005)

If you enjoyed this you might also like:

Dead Alive (1992) [a.k.a Braindead] , Re-Animator (1985), Night of the Living Dead (1968), Shaun of the Dead (2004)

—————————————

Context Corner:

First of all, let me point out that I’ve read multiple accounts of people who said Dan O’Bannon was a douche. And judging from interviews it seems that he treated the female actors (especially Beverly Randolph) rather poorly. Not Alfred Hitchcock levels of mistreatment by any means, but still.

Second of all, this film’s existence has a rather strange origin. But it goes a little something like this:

Night of the Living Dead was the brain child of three guys: George Romero, John Russo, and Russell Streiner. After they parted ways (and after some light legal action) Romero got the rights to do his own sequels under the “of the Dead” title, but Russo got the right to the “Living Dead” title.

And so Russo and Streiner decide to write their own sequel to NotLD and it starts to get produced. Dan O’Bannon is brought in to pump up the script and when the film losses its planned director O’Bannon he is offered the position. However, he only does so on the condition that he can do a major rewrite of the film.

The original script was very much a sequel to NotLD, but O’Bannon wanted RotLD to stand out and thus purposefully set out to make their zombies unique and give it all a different sort of tone.

—————————————

“Christ, it ain’t dying!”

“I thought you said if we destroyed the brain it died?”

“It worked in the movie.”

“Well, it ain’t working now, Frank!”

“You mean the movie lied!?”

#The Return of the Living Dead #1984 #1980s #Dan O'Bannon #John Russo #Zombies #Return of the Living Dead

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ivyveil · 5 years

Text

Love is the Punchline 2

the one where you are drunk and want pizza, but your fingers call Harry instead

A Continuation of LITP (masterlist here)

Your heartbeat demanded to be felt through the entire body, your attention memorized by the motion of right to left from your chest to your fingertips.

They were tapping irregularly on the dining table, as if they instinctively knew the beat of your heart breaking. As it had been all week, truthfully, but since work had ended for the week, your thoughts were dominated by the shadows you had hoped left. Liquor didn’t help, particularly the cup in front of you that sullenly watched you make an idiot of yourself in front of your potted plants.

“The cactus doesn’t care, Mr. Grey Goose,” you reasoned, leaning back on your chair slightly to point at the plant, who seemed generally unimpressed by your antics. “He’s a prick anyways. You care too much what others think, just be you.” You blinked, soulfully, at the cup, trying to mentally send it the emotional strength you were lacking.

The cup said nothing, but you felt the stare go from critical to one of pity, the exact emotion you were drinking alone to avoid. Company would just feel sorry for you, and you didn’t know if you could handle the atmosphere of sympathy. It was your fault, anyway.

If anything, you deserved the harsh disapproval of alcohol. Perhaps you even deserved his silence, though it felt incredibly wrong. You traced a line of dew down the side of a water glass, which hadn’t been depleted after an hour of your Official Weekend Breakdown. It had swooped on you quickly. Your morning had been normal, and at work you even managed to forget about the situation for a few hours. When you got back to your home, you had decided to undergo a quick cleaning.

Your closet was under siege, shoes littering the floor from when you kicked them off without bothering to check they went into proper storage. The Questions You Didn’t Like To Ask had been lurking in the corners of your mind, but you managed to set them off for the most part. Who had the strength to go through all that mental analysis, when the answers couldn’t be properly found? You didn’t know what Harry was feeling, because he didn’t tell you. Nothing more to it.

Then, you saw them. A few shirts folded up in the corner, stacked high and surrounded by a fancy ass designer cologne you had never bought before. You still recognized it, and the bitter pain flooded your senses again. The loopy writing of ‘Styles’ on the pocket confirmed it (as if you need confirmation that the silk Gucci shirts weren’t yours, being stuck in the midst of random 5k shirts you had collected over the years).

The entire situation still confused you, whether it was a proper fall-out or just a miscommunication. How to go about solving it was a mind fuckery, leading down roads of self-criticism you couldn’t deal with at the moment.

Your head swam a bit above the current of drunkness to realize the idea of ordering pizza was remarkably brilliant. However, there were a few flaws that kept you from going straight to your phone.

It involved sitting upright, getting out of your chair, and moving to the front door to then converse with the pizza man, collect the pizza box, hand over the money (which then meant you would need to go get money before reaching the door) before coming back safely inside. Which was a problem, because the ceiling kept becoming the floor, and the floor itself kept swaying.

Your body felt smooth, in a numb, little-bit-over tipsy sort of way. Your day had started the same as they had been for the past week, without any texts from him. It wasn’t entirely unusual for Harry to go a few days without contact, his job being fairly demanding, but the situation at hand made you feel as though it was something more. Something more than not having the time to send a quick text.

Not that you had sent one, either. You had written plenty, enough to possibly draft a book called Regrets and Texts, an Autobiography. But none had made it through the consideration pile to be properly sent.

Sometimes there simply weren’t words to explain yourself. (Which might have been a lie, because you had three perfectly good words, but they did a lousy job at making up for your actions). You groaned, loudly, like an injured cow. Unattractive, and somewhat cathartic, because after you got it out of your system you were able to take another sip from your drink. Your eyes squished together as you got it down, your tongue sticking out in half-disgust and half-instinct.

“Why does it hurt so good?” you groaned, keeping your eyes closed. Your cactus mumbled, “What a mess.” You agreed. Everything echoed of repetition; your daily life was holed by what was missing. You didn’t know what could fill it, you were frustrated by the isolation you had trapped yourself in and the physical borders that kept you from where you wanted to be.

Harry wasn’t everything in your life, not even close. You had a multitude of friends, a caring family, those people at work you talk but never tell anything personal to, and you had a lot of hobbies that typically kept you busy around town. You loved Harry, but you weren’t usually constantly consumed by the thought of him.

Harry wasn’t your air, he never was, but for the past few days you couldn’t fucking breathe.

Essentially, you had only begun to realize that you had collaborated with your demons, your own fears, to keep you away from the possibility of happiness. All for what? The fear of being vulnerable, the fear of opening up and saying, “Come take me as you can find me, Harry, this is all I am and I hope to God it’s enough.”

Instead, all you had to say for yourself was, “Don’t.” All you had to text was, “No.”

All he had to say was that he loved you, and put himself out there. Twice. Which you knew, from having plenty of romance-oriented conversations with him in the past, was a big deal. He wasn’t the type to make a huge move, too wrapped up in having to know it would go perfectly before he even considered making a tiny move. He knew he was phenomenal on stage and with his words, but sometimes as a person, there were doubts.

You shifted in your seat and regretted it immediately. Perhaps it was all in your imagination (who knew, at this point), but the sloshing around in your stomach was enough convincing to make you dead-set on finding some starch to consume, and fast. And honestly, fuck the saltines in your pantry – you needed some good, gooey, cheesy pizza to get through tonight.

Your hands, finally, made their way towards your phone, and you opened up the dial app, your fingers clicking on their own accord.

Sometimes our bodies know how to fix our lives better than we do. After all, that’s how you ended up hanging over the toilet at your senior prom, vomiting for 30 minutes. It had meant you lost your chance at hooking up with the cute guy from your physics course, but later in the year you found out he had been sneaking shady stuff in the boys’ drinks to try and up his chances with some of the girls.

If it hadn’t been for your inability to hold a proper amount of drink, you would’ve most likely victim to that type of absolute, unforgivable douche-baggery. Your body was looking out for you, you reckoned.

Now was a similar moment, it seemed. Your body had leaped at the chance, saw your incapable state and just went with pure instinct to try and straighten out your course.

So, instead of the friendly, middle-aged woman named Andrea at your local pizza shop (who you occasionally went to Thursday Knitting Club with, and who knew more about your emotional life than perhaps even you did) it was a deep, slow, masculine voice.

You froze in your chair, feeling aggressively more sober than moments before.

“Hi, this is Harry. Leave meh a message, I’ll get back to yeh when I can.”

Beep.

Stupefied, you pulled your hand back and looked at the screen. The photo you took of him at a carnival was shining back at you, his face painted like a tiger. It had been a fun few days, especially since a family member of his needed a quick babysitter. Walking around with Harry and a tiny child clasped between the both of you had sent your emotions all over for the next month and a half. You’re pretty sure your friends who had kinda picked up on your thing for Haz had been truly tested by your maternally-driven rants for that portion of your life.

“Noooo,” you groaned, putting your phone back down and propping your elbows on the table. You put your head in your hands, mumbling several profanities. The tiny voice in your mind wondered, simultaneously, why you hadn’t hung up yet. You told the voice to mind its own damn business.

“I’m sorry, Haz, I meant to order Andrea. Or the pizza, not the lady. Like, human trafficking is fucked,” you began, squishing your cheeks between your hands and looking at your fridge. His face was too much to look at, it would be too real. Although his cheeks didn’t have pink, sparkly whiskers in real life, the idea was still prevalent.

You fell silent, toying with various words in your mouth and wondering if you would be able to properly speak this time.

“I’ve been thinking, a lot. Questions I don’t want to ask, about myself. They’re conversations with myself I’ve tried to avoid, at all costs, for years now.” A pause. Then, furthered confession.

“I don’t imagine you’re super interested in them, I don’t think I would be if I were you. I think I just hope you hear this and regret not texting me back. Which sounds super elementary once I’ve said it out loud, I mean, I guess I could’ve texted too. But what was I gonna say?” you drawled, gesturing outwards with an open palm to signify that no, you had nothing to say.

Which was a lie, but you hadn’t had much success in telling the truth as of late.

“You wanna know what’s really funny, Haz?” you stared out into nothing, as if you were truly speaking to him and had a momentary revelation. Completely fabricated, but in the haze of your mind it felt like a brand new concept all over again.

Your cactus was suffering from very deep, very tragic second-hand embarrassment in the corner.

“I wanna capture all your words. They’re so beautiful, you’re like a masterpiece and I just want to be there all the time. I wanna see you at like, 1:42 pm and see how the light goes differently ‘cross your face, as the day goes on. Am I making sense? Like, I want to see your morning hair and your afternoon stubble and how quiet you get at night. I’ve gotten pieces of it, but not in full.”

A moment’s pause, a quiet reflection.

“But that’s not what’s funny,” you admitted, sullenly. Your nails grew more interesting as the confession grew deeper, and you picked at them as you spoke. Your apartment was starkly silent, compared to the rush of noise you felt in your head.

“It’s funny how much I love you, that I love you so much my heart hurts and my eyes can’t help but cry because it’s overwhelming. I don’t think it’s strange, though, but it’s not like I’m well-equipped with this. So I end up pushing you away. That’s fucked up.”

You hiccuped, a sad smile pulling at the corners of your lips.

“Really fucked,” you agreed with yourself, your fingers twirling around a loose piece of your hair again and again. Your phone didn’t have much to say back, so you pushed onward.

“I love you, so I’m trying to let go. I truly am, Haz, swear it, for you and I guess a little for me? You don’t deserve this, you know,” you gestured at yourself, eyes widening to emphasize your point.

You two had equally seen each other at some of the lowest times, in the worst situations. It was nothing new to have Harry see you breaking apart, and likewise vice versa. Yet, the idea of needing to be put-together in order to jump into something serious was engraved on your skull, the necessity of not needing someone else before having someone else.

“I can’t ignore my fear forever, that I have some secret I didn’t even know about. I don’t want to see the disappointment in your eyes, like I do in theirs. It would break me, Haz.

“It happens every time, I start off going steady with some guy and it’s great, I’m so happy. And I think maybe I’ve got it wrong, that love is possible for me. That it’s not just for our rom-coms and Ryan Goslings of the world.

“But then I start seeing it. And it’s the worst, you know? ‘Cause I can’t stop it, it’s just a byproduct of being with me. The disillusionment starts in their eyes, it’s when they find me. It’s like a curtain’s been lifted and the guy started tearing down my walls because he thought that’s what he was supposed to do.

“And it turned out, what was behind it wasn’t what he was looking for. Which has me freaked, because how is my true self different from what I’m aware of - I’m not projecting a false image of myself out there, right? I’m just altogether too much, and not enough. And I don’t know how to fix me.”

You traced the condensation of your water, tears glassing up your vision. This was a portion of insecurity you hadn’t fully shown Harry before, mostly because it felt like a massive pity-fest and you knew he would listen with large, puppy eyes and hold you until your chest didn’t feel so tight. Nothing would be solved, though, so it didn’t seem worth mentioning.

“And I don’t want that for us,” you confessed, choking back the urge to properly cry, “I like it when you look at me and I don’t notice any change in your eyes. It’s just you and it’s just me.”

You sniffled, the tears escaping nonetheless and rolling down your cheeks. You smudged them off with hurried hands before they went much further, wanting to fully focus on the task at hand.

“For me, I don’t know if I could’ve, if I could’ve survived seeing us break apart, like that. Dramatic, yeah, but I’m just tryin’ to be honest,” you took a deep breath.

“Yeah, honest. But I suppose we have, now, haven’t we? Because I couldn’t say the right words when it mattered.”

You laughed, a feeling of foolishness washing over your soul and delighting you in the most tragic of ways. How sad, drunkenly calling the boy you loved when you had told him, only a week ago, that he wasn’t worth the risk of going for it? A mess of hypocrisy, you knew you had called your friends’ exes horrible names for doing a lot less.

What was most frustrating, was you clearly could see how unproductive your mind-set was. You knew the proper tips and training for taking care of yourself (the amount of bubbles that had been born in your bathroom the past two days alone could fill the entire sky, you swear) and you recognized your self-worth. It wasn’t a situation of having a devastating wreckage of insecurity to battle, but more like when it was called into question, your ego hesitated a bit too much to claim the title as Worthy.

Letting out a bitter sigh, you put your head on the counter, next to the phone that was recording one of your lowest lows and transferring it in waves to the man who used to help you back up. And all he would do is realize how fortunate he was, to have escaped the mess you felt colliding against your rib cage and into your throat.

Kissing him had felt like you had never kissed anyone, before. He felt assured, comfortable. It had taken a lot to help ease you into ‘romantic’ situations before, but with Haz it felt more like an expression than a deed. More like a physical manifestation of how he made you feel, how you wanted to share that love through your lips. How you wanted to draw his feelings out from his. It was a symphony of simplicity, which was mind-blowing because you had never imagined it could be that good without the nervous laughter and self-conscious puddle of anxiety beforehand.

“I heard you crying,” you murmured, half-unaware you were speaking out loud.

“I heard it, and I didn’t know what to do. And that scared me, maybe even more than how I feel for you in general. Because I always thought I would be able to go and fix things, situations, people...but all I did was listen. All I did was listen,” a lump in your throat began to obstruct the passage of your voice, you knew he could hear the tears coming now, faster “and I hate myself for that. I hate that I couldn’t have been there for you, when I’m trying do to right for the both of us. I just can’t tell anymore, where the lines are. Where I love you as a friend and love you as something more.”

Your voice cracked by the end, a breakage of both spirit and will. Your chest felt tight, your heart had given up long ago, sitting in its cage and chain-smoking until the doomsday. Nothing could be salvaged from this, speaking to him in that state would only prolong the suffering between you both.

“I gotta go, Haz,” you apologized softly. “I need my pizza, and you need to stop listening to me word-vomit everything when it’s frankly too late in the game.”

Your finger hesitated over the red ‘end’ button, unable to bring itself to do it before you could plead for a sober chance to discuss everything.

“Just text me, okay? I don’t want this to change things between us, I want us to look at each other.”

With that, a singular beep signaled the end of your Next Big Regret. Or what would be, when you remembered in the morning.

You groaned again, moving to properly call the pizza shop, being very conscious of the buttons you pressed along the way. Maybe you’d make it a deep crust, you deserved it.

“Thanks, have a nice night,” you grunted, accepting the box and handing over what was most likely an absurd tip for the 10-minutes-late delivery. You didn’t particularly care, half-hoping the karma would impact your life in the future and maybe you would win the lottery. There’s no harm in trying, after all.

When you shuffled back to your dining room, your phone screen had just turned to black again. Racing over, dumping the box on the table, you reached out and snatched up the device quickly, feeling your heart beat back to life and pittering up your throat.

When wouldn’t nerves be the absolute death of you?

One missed call from “H”.

You stared at the notification for a long time, allowing it to register in your psyche before unlocking your phone. Calling him back meant the continuation of a conversation you were, at the time, very pleased to be having one-sided. It took away the possibility of hearing his response in real life, in hearing his breath and knowing the thoughts in the intricate patterns of his sighs and groans.

The drunk part of you urged your fingers to hit ‘call back’ so that any fuck ups could be blamed on the vodka, as opposed to your sober self who would have no where to hide behind. It was quite the conundrum.

Another notification.

This time, Voice Mail from “H”.

You hit “Listen.”

He sounded tired. Really tired.

“Hey. I, I just got a message from yeh. Dunno if you’re awake still and just didn’t wanna answer. Or if yeh fell asleep. Or got pizza, I don’t know, fuck.”

Silence.

An exhausted laugh.

“I truly...God, Y/N, I truly don’t know what to say. Those men were properly insane, to not love every bit of you. I wish I could say y’ could have all of me, but I...”

A lump rose in your throat, eyes filling up quickly with tears. You sat down as he was speaking, covering your eyes with a hand and shaking your head. Hearing his voice again, was just too real. Everything felt overly saturated and dramatic, but that little voice in your head reminded you this was what love was, sometimes. Just on another level from all else, the craziness is just a slice of the experience.

“When you said we wouldn’t be worth it, that shattered me, love. Not love, sorry. Didn’t mean to, slipped.”

He groaned, and you could practically see him in a hotel room somewhere, sitting at the business desk over his phone, rubbing his hands down his face. The desk lamp would be glowing, the only light source in the room.

“Yeh can’t say we’re friends and just friends, and call me with this. Isn’t fair. Not when I’m tryin’ to...to get over you.”

You knew, you knew that. The guilt was already creeping up your lungs.

“I still love yeh. But I can’t love y’ouand know you love me, and not...it’s just….I can’t. ‘M sorry. I also don’t think it’s best we talk over phone, yeah? Just complicates things.”

The message ended.

Your apartment was cloaked in silence, a deep depression. Harry had been so rational, when you were the one fighting for the title. You were utterly confused as to what you were supposed to do now, after such emotional turmoil. Your drunken mind was bitter, mostly at yourself.

Why wasn’t Harry worth fighting for, to you? A day ago, you had realized how much you would’ve sacrificed for him, if given the proper chance, and then it had occurred to you that the chance had come and gone. And for some odd reason, you hadn’t recognized the flashing neon lights until it was too late.

“He still loves me,” you whispered, curling up in the seat and blinking at the wall.

You stayed like that for a few more minutes, mind racing a million miles a second. Eventually, an idea came to mind. One you felt would solve everything, would change the tragedy to something salvageable.

Maybe the flashing lights were still there, ‘late’ was better than ‘never.’ You had previously only wanted Harry to see you for your strengths, for him to see you in radiant light and want nothing but your positives. Perhaps to show more of your weaknesses, it could make the situation more fucking realistic. You huffed, silently telling yourself off for not registering how insufferable the idea of giving up loving Harry was. This was worth it, it moved your soul into something more aligned, closer to the emotion of feeling ‘okay.’ And maybe that’s all you could do, fight to feel more okay. Do the actions that made your heart feel lighter and true, and let the outcomes fall as they may.

The next morning, your bank account had a flight ticket to America charged. The price was an absolute joke, but if that’s what it took to get to Harry, love was going to be the punchline.

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

A/N: Check the masterlist of LITP here, and let me know your thoughts if you would like!

#harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #archive of our own #mine #one direction fanfic #one direction fanfiction #one direction fic #harry styles fluff #harry styles drabble #harry styles blurb #harry styles fic

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slothgiirl · 5 years

Text

shadowplay ch 2 (alex turner x reader)

Your phone rings, vibrating on the sette while you try and decide what to order for dinner.

Work had run late and you had really just wanted to finish to jacket tonight and not have to pick up where you left off tomorrow. Not expecting any calls, you hit ignore and decide on chinese. Fried rice and pot stickers sounding heavenly.

Your phone rings again and you decide to answer just to see who could be calling you.

It can't be work. And your friends would've texted you.

"Hello," you answer. If it's some telemarketer you can always hang up.

"It's Alex."

"Who?" You don't know anyone named Alex.

"ugh you pretended to be be my girlfriend that one time," he trails off.

"Oh yeah. Sorry my brains at like half charge right now."

"Long day at work," Alex asks.

"Basically," you answer, "my hands are beyond cramped. You know you could've texted. Who calls anymore?"

"If I can't do something face to face," he counters, "callings the next best thing."

"Okay grandpa."

"I just wanted to well. . .ask if you would mind much doing it again." He pauses as if working up the courage to say the words. Taking so long I think he might have hung up. "Pretending to be my girlfriend that is."

"What happened," you can't help but asks, already wondering what kind of situation he got himself into.

"Arielle sort of told some mutual friends and now. . ."

"Your friends think we're dating."

"Exactly," Alex finishes.

"You could just come clean. No shame in that." Though the idea of seeing him again alone is worth considering faking a relationship.

"Yes," he protests, "it's embarrassing. Arielle's getting married and I pretended I have a girlfriend. I 'fink I'd 'ave to live under a rock after that."

"Are you free right now?"

"Why," Alex asks.

"So we can talk things through. Oh and can you pick up food on the way. That'll save me the delivery fee."

"So you'll do it Love," sounding so hopeful you almost say yes on the spot.

"Well what's in it for me?"

Alex snorts, "I'll grab you dinner or something. Anything you want for saving my bloody arse."

"Well like I said, you can start by picking up dinner." You give him your address.

A small flat at the top of some old building with a tiny balcony that was the main attraction. You had been looking at houses but had yet to find something in your range and one that you also wanted. So here you still were.

You buzz Alex in, looking dapper in blue jeans and a strokes shirt with a different leather jacket on. This time sans glasses.

"Thank you so much," you tell him as you unpack the food onto your coffee table, but not before making sure he takes off his leather boots with more of a heel than you could walk in.

"No problem love," Alex says with a smile, "least I could do right."

"Your learning."

He chuckles, taking a seat next to you on the sette. The great british bake off plays, an old episode. You haven't paid enough attention to know what's going on.

"So. . ."

"Yes Al," you grin playfully.

"Would you like to be my fake girlfriend?"

"Not until you explain what's actually going on."

He ducks his head as you start on the fried rice. Shoving forkfuls into your mouth without a care about how you look. Lunch seems to have been ages ago for how hungry you feel now.

"Like I said over the phone. Arielle told a bunch of our friends and now Jaime invited us over and I said yes. And now I can't just fess up."

"You could though," you note, offering him a fork too.

"I'd look so bloody pathetic."

"So if we were to do this," you ask carefully, not meeting his eyes, wondering what you were getting yourself into. But as the weird girl in college with only one good friend, you knew a thing or two about being embarrassed. And it sounds amusing.

Not to mention Alex is beyond hot.

He sighs, relieved. "It's just be once or twice. Then we break up and no one ever has to be wiser."

You sit up straighter, studying Alex. His well defined bone structure, his expressive brown eyes, and the way he couldn't quite meet your eyes, unsure as you felt about the whole thing. He looked like a proper douche with all the hair gel and habit for wearing sunnies when the sun had gone down, but you'd enjoyed talking to him.

You still can't imagine it being hard for him to get a girl. And yet here he was. "Alright. I'm game if only because I think this whole thing is ridiculous. They're your friends. Not to mention I'm such a nice person."

Alex laughs, which has you smiling hard enough that your cheeks hurt and for once not caring that it might look weird, might make your face look fat.

"Oh thank god I was about ready to book a flight to LA and pretend I had work or something along those lines."

"I wish I could do that whenever I didn't want to deal with my aunt. My cousin got married last summer and now everyones looking at me every time we get together. I'm twenty six. Practically a child bride!"

It makes Alex laugh again.

"If we're going to do this though," you tell him, opening up a fortune cookie, "we have to like establish details and have our story straight. Like I still don't know what you do. That'll raise eyebrows."

"True enough," Alex acknowledges. "I can already tell you'll be the smart one in this relationship."

You snort. "Tell that to my maths teacher."

"I was thinking, we've only been seeing each other for a weeks. I've flying back and forth quite a bit. It adds up," he states casually, like people just flew back and forth from one home to another all the time. "Haven't told anyone because we we seeing where this was going."

"Makes sense. So where did we meet? Musicians are supposed to be creative aren't they?"

"Are you really going to make me come up with everything by myself love?"

You roll your eyes, "I really should stop getting take out. It's bad for the planet but I'm so out of it after work."

"How about you tailored some clothes I needed fixin'," he suggests with a dangerously flirty grin.

"That's so unprofessional Al," you protest, "I'd get into so much trouble for something like that."

"Which is exactly what you said when I asked you out," he continues, looking gleeful as the whole scenario plays out in his head, "but I was persistent. And said I'd never be a customer again if you'd give me a chance."

"And you pouted so much I just couldn't say not to that face," you add with a giggle. "I work at Hargreeves by the way. Mostly suiting through there are quite a few dressmakers there too."

"I have a little band called the Arctic Monkeys," Alex offers, watching you carefully.

You shrug, "never heard of them."

"The last shadow puppets too," he adds, still studying your reaction carefully.

"You any good?"

"We're signed love so I 'fink we're doing all right."

"I don't think you're being a reliable source Al," you note, googling Arctic Monkeys instead. "much too humble."

"I'd sound like a twat otherwise."

Your eyes widen at the number of results and articles right off the bat. "doing all right my arse! You're bloody famous!"

"Only a little," Alex protests, running a hand through his hair, pink dusting his cheeks.

You tell him about going to trade school and your apprenticeship "Something right out of the devil wears prada! Kept pricking my fingers so badly!" Your friend Sam who does dresswear and complains about how, "everyone wants the same boring sillouttes! Can you believe dropping ten thousand pounds on a dress you could get at Harrods!"

He tells you about growing up in Sheffield, about his band mates and old friends who have all gotten together or married by now, about his love for the strokes and Miles Kane.

Alex talks about moving to New York for a girl, about moving to Los Angeles for a different girl. "I guess I'm a romantic at heart," he confesses.

You blab about wanting to work for an Atilier like Valentino and how you still feel weird about spending money on things like a Chanel bag though you can justify it. About devouring magazines while your mum shopped.

It had been that initial love for fashion and your grandmothers own seamstress skills that had led your down the path you'd taken. "Poshmark is bad for the environment and the clothes don't even hold up," you ranted.

Old clothes done by hand had lasted much longer and there was something about making things. "It was always just fun to design something and then see it come together through I nicked myself a lot and my mum made sure I finished my assignments before spending hours in my room."

Alex asks you about your taste in music which is, "hasn't really changed since college I mean Britney spears still slaps and who doesn't love the spice girls."

Your shamelessness has him laughing again."I mean your not wrong about the spice girls love."

It's past ten when he finally makes to leave. "So next week at Jaime's," Alex asks once more, worried you might have changed your mind.

"Yes. Text me the details. Or I guess call if that's more comfortable for you."

He smiles, resting against the doorway, looking down at you with his soft brown eyes. "Can I kiss you? For practice I mean. . .they'll be expecting us too. . ."

If you let him go on, it might take two years for him to get to the point and you've already set boundaries. Hand holding, hugging, all the typical couple stuff except for sitting in his lap.

That was too much for you. A kiss here and there for believability but obviously you wouldn't be making out in public.

Or at least, if this was real you wouldn’t go overboard in public so there was no reason to with him.

So you kiss him on his lips, light and quick, just a goodbye kiss. And send him off.

#Alex Turner #alex turner fanfic #alex turner imagine #alex turner x reader #Shadowplay #mine

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raguna-blade · 5 years

Text

Revolutionary Girl Utena Live(ish) Reaction Episodes 8-11

So it's a new year, and I'm gonna continue this, cause its' fun. Had a brief break cause of the holidays. And doing so, I figure i'm gonna do a thing where I make up a nice cleaned up version of these cause if nothing else I like organizing my thoughts. So Control F or whatever your find function is for the cleaned up version if that's your thing. It'll be under Overall Thoughts per ep. Or you know, you're me and you're going back through this for validation for whatever nonsense you say later.

Episode 8

Curry huh? And another recap? uh....

enmy remains trifling

hey wait egg time already?

Danger? Really?

Body swap? Also egg time is goofs

throwin hands????? anthy?

Yeah nanami it is ridiculous

JERSUS TOGA

nanami you idiot

She just fucked off to india to get some weird back alley spice

Shadow girls can you please, just please for a single episode.

ANTHY YOU LYING. Never been good at sports and you did that leap apparently pretty well? What the fuck.

Also, the switching thing here is mad suspect considering the end theme thing (and I suppose the opening.

Utena as Anthy : I don't want to be a sacrifice of the rose seal.

Anthy As Utena: I'm super down staying like this actually.

Like..This is just details that

Uh..Uh saionji what. The implications are strong here. Also, Douche canoe he is, but he's a romantic apparently? UUUUH. Exchange diary.

Is the “A” plot a distraction? Like for real.

Also she took that elephant to the dome.

I'm not sure how to take this personality switch. Like the minds thing whatever, but if it's just the personalties but not the person so to speak, hold on

WHAT THE FUCK. These elephants for fucking real?

Anyway, if they're just personalities altering the “person” it's uh...Interesting. I'm not sure how to take that til I get more info. It seems like a thing.

Also, Saionji apparently legit has feels for Anthy he's just...mad dumb about expressing it? Like he's pulling a lot of Badboy Romance Tropes here but...not...in a badboy romance. Which kills his behavior entirely.

Killed his Soul AGAIN. Damn.

Who's the divine justice for? Like it doesn't seem for nanami. Who fucked up. Presumably between anthy and utena.

Anthy what the actual fuck are you doing. Are you using gunpowder?

Homie, this isn't twilight, go home saionji.

Anthy as Utena(????) you trolling. So hard.

Saionji get's zero respect but dudes dedicated I'll give him that. Fitting for bad boy romance lead.

Uh...Wait, actually, are they all romance leads? Common ones in one way or the other. They are on the student Council so...Hm. I don't read enough romance stories of the variety I think but it seems to fit? I'm not sure what juri would be in that case.

Anyway, if this Episode Turns out to be a key for understanding things I'm gonna be pissed. Just a little.

Overall Thoughts: So this and the other “filler” episode is, especially after finishing my last ep in the session, read as anything but despite the obvious uh...antics on display. Like...

Ok, so the whole thing with the ending which frames Anthy and Utena as kinda the same (or rather exactly the same, except one's in red and the other pink) makes this whole episode feel like it's basically some kind of key for understanding everything else because it's simple times. It's goofy hilarity with Nanami that's the A Plot right hahahah....

Except the personality swap between the two of them is like...The implication here is that they swapped minds fully, and given the level of fairy tale bullshit that is at play constantly in this series so far it may well just be magic brand magic and we're supposed to roll with it. Ok. Fair.

Except...The thought that sits in my head is again, Anthy and Utena seem to equal each other. Hell I point it out slightly later that there's definitely this yin yang thing going on in the opening with the two which is so blatant as to be meaningless because Hah Yeah these are our two leads obvs and they're important to each other so hahah don't worry about or think about it check out these SWEET SWORDSMANSHIP MOMENTS FROM EVERYONE LOOK AT THE BUDGET AND COOL HORSES AND CASTLES HAHAHA.

But ok, if it's a Yin Yang thing, yes they're not the same but they have elements of each other within eachother. So if it's just a personality swap but not an actual soul swap thing, that is, Anthy is just acting like Utena's personality is in her, and Utena is just acting like Anthy's personality is in her it paints this picture of Utena and Anthy as having a lot going on under the surface. I mean obviously Anthy is fucking pissed at Saionji. That was really really evident in episode one because if she's just being submissive rosebride I do what i'm told and I do what i'm told I do what i'm told, the very very very sharp dig of “We're Just classmates” is fucking brutal unnecessity. And given that she DOES know what he feels for her, and he's still acting like that, her being vindictive(or just brusque really, he's being an ass full bore) is like...absolutely reasonable.

Her Slapping back and about to throw hands with her tormentors? Who wouldn't want to right?

But then, ok that's Anthy, but what about Utena. If it's just a mind swap, Utena...want's a very defined existence? Like, she wants to just stick to a role? Feels weird, and doesn't quite immediately jive with her cause that seems against her operations right? Except, as this episode so kindly reminds us (for at least the third time in 8 episodes which seems excessive. I might be forgetting one or two) Utena's whole thing coming to this school is I want to play the Role of the Prince, whatever that actually means. Playing the Rose Bride would be no real difference, except it's way more submissive.

So that aside, Saionji saying he's in love with Anthy (and that seems to be something he at least believes to be true. He honestly seems more into Toga. Like for real for real, all the imagery of those flashbacks reads not just as close buddies, but as I am romantically down with you Toga my guy. Him being Bi is probably the easiest answer, and he just drifted away from Toga for a while. Saionji clearly sees him as a friend and rival, although it's seemingly not reciprocated at the moment.

But the thing, the thing that's kinda weird to me, is that if he does legit have feelings for her, I was struck with this odd vibe that he's playing at being a romance lead. Specifically, a Bad Boy romance lead. And doing so SPECTACULARLY badly. Homeboy is sitting here busting out poetry (unless my brain is being a dumb and i'm somehow overlaying him with Tatewaki Kuno from Ranma which ok, weird but alright) but...

Ok, if he is playing at being a Badboy Romance lead, that actually explains his behavior for how he was treating Anthy, especially if he's legit in his feelings for her? Possessive, Radiates Danger, Engages in Creepy Behavior, is a bit of a dick, etc. It lines up with Being a Bad Boy, except that the way that those usually work out in fiction, as I understand it, they're not usually like...gonna hit you. That breaks the fantasy. But...That's him fucking up the archetype. It doesn't fit for him. He doesn't understand what he's doing in that archetype.

Like yes, abusers and the like can care and still be absuers cause fucked up behavior and motivations don't need to match in the least, but it still feels odd that a man who probably literally could have done any number of fucked up things has...an exchange diary with the girl he says he cares about? And it's not like he's unaware of how submissive/passive she is, his exchange diary actually kinda reads like Utena's Anthy is A Real Girl! Activities*. He wants her to be active part of whatever their relationship is and...Eh.

But ok, if he's that, It suggests the rest of the student council, and duelists in general, would fit into a given archetype right? Toga is clearly the super cool intelligent superman student council president, Juri is basically charisma max Jock, Miki is the cute nerd, Nanami is the Ojou villainess type, Utena is...Basically the Hero type, just morals, strains to upset the status quo, Has the Cool Original Uniform.

And they all kinda fit into those pretty thoroughly, kinda like they're trying to (to varying levels of awareness)

Anyway, I'll hit on some of the other stuff in the next Ep. It's a bit more relevant there I think.

*See Me In Episode 11

Episode 9

I just realized they're doing some kinda yinyang thing in the opening so

R V G FIGHT.

Pretty tense there. Toga went straight for the heart which i'm sure means nothing.

Old Friends? Phrasing seems uh...odd? Unsure if it's dub things or actual subtext. Or both.

Dude you really got beef with a monkey? No, utena.

Being a huge dick. As is tradition.

10 Years.

Saionji: Actually love her (said) but

This is mad gay. Like the lighting, the silhouette. Saionji you're sublimating something here.

Music, Silhouettes.

...Silhouettes show truth? uh.

They were Utena's folks funeral? Huh. Also, why on earth would Utena be kidnapped? Who she be?

….Three coffins. Uh. Uhhhhhh. Utena, Toga, Saionji? UuuuHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH?

Dead utena. Uh.

Toga: Ally to all women. Ok.

...Why is there a third coffin?

Something Eternal huh? And Utena wants to die for reasons understandable.

Find another coffin. Rose Sigils on the coffins. Uh. Uhhhhhhhhhhhh.

Saionji: Hey, this is nuts, we should stop her.

Toga: Nah, I'm gonna Ennable the shit out of this.

Tiny Utena with the White Rose?

Saionji: Did he do something to her?

Toga: Nope

Uh....

Anthy: Something Eternal in the castle. I want to go there.

Also impressive grip strength considering. Flat.

Does Toga Remember this or...? I can't be sure. Saionji certainly didn't recognize her, but he wasn't like right on top of the trauma child.

Toga white roses? Uh? Uhhhhh. I think he definitely remembers. But questions abound.

Ufo's shadow girls? Shadow girls having flesh is deeply concerning.

TRUE FRIENDS ARE JUST FANTASIES. OK.

And UFO's broke, so that's probably not great. Who's getting the Revelations today.

That is the fakest voice toga what the fuck

Badboy Saionji: We're Gonna get the eternity.

Also, I just realized they (saionji and anthy) have color inversions going on which is making me kinda wonder if they're related in some way?

Just slap the shit out of him that's fair.

Ok, so Saionji didn't(?) do the dumb thing. Ok,

that is...a coffin. That he's 100% obssessed with. With Anthy (Utena) inside.

He's looking like he kissed his own mom right now, goin full oedipus in the holy shit revelations here.

Castle is crumbling, falling down. So...Eternity is Fake. Ok. Sure. Didn't shadow girls say that?

Castle Immediately tried to kill him. Crushed his soul 1 time too many there I suppose.

Utena, meanwhile, dove super deep into saving anthy which...diving deeper into the fantasy?

Yeah, they all just saw things.

Saionji: WHAT THE FUCK JUST HAPPENED WHATS GOING ON?

Bro, me too.

Ok, if the two are reflections, does Anthy and saionji both got some deep illusory bullshit going on? Are they both freaking out?

Toga, saving the day, and Saionji, tried to kill Utena with a sword. so. Ok.

Saionji Expelled? Toga, fool for thinking they're friends?

WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED HERE?

Overall Thoughts: I touched on a bunch of the Saionji stuff I wanna talk about in the last episode review, but the thing I kinda want to look at here is well...

Ok, Now the colors probably don't mean anything, but there was this moment that Saionji and Anthy were in the same shot and I suddenly realized they're color flips of each other. Purple hair green eyes, Green Hair Purple eyes, which ok that's interesting.

So we already have Utena Reflecting on Anthy, and hey, there's Zero Reason, absolutely negative number reasons why that wouldn't necessarily be the case with any and all of the rest of the duelists to some degree or another.

And hell, the fact that we keep flipping back and forth between Utena and Anthy in Coffins, there being (for some weird ass reason) a third entirely unrelated coffin for Utena's folks funeral, why the fuck not right?

So ok, Anthy and Saionji mirror each other which...Ok. If the Personality Swap from Episode 8 thing holds, The two actually share some pretty dickish actions. They can be cruel and petty and just antagonistic to things that don't quite jive with what they want. Saionji with Anthy not being...whatever he's expecting out of her, or Utena butting in. Anthy with the girls who keep fucking with her and Saionji.

They both seem to be utterly STUCK on the Rose Bride thing, although from different angles of Possessing the Rosebride and being the Rosebride, and the kind of weird shaping of the Rosebride thing that's going on.

Saionji is treated as a joke by the student council, especially after he get's kicked out, which ultimately ends with him being someone who is generally wanted but ends up ultimately exiled from society. Which mirrors with Anthy as someone is is wanted, but doesn't seem to have ANY kind of actual tangible bonds with anyone.

And, for this last one I have ZERO evidence on the Anthy end, but the suggestions are uh..interesting. Saionji in this episode, as suggested by the shadow girls at least in part, is deeply deeply invested in a fantasy of some kind, one that ultimately leaves him crushed and rather empty, further exiled from people who could or do care for him and that he cares about. Which if we're going with the property sliding across and He's a Foil for Utena (which I think is definitely true in some ways) suggests bad things for her down the line.

Episode 10

Saionji's a joke huh? He's taking it well.

Toga WOW. WOW YOU FUCKING DOUCHE. STRAIGHT IN THE FIRE HUH.

EGG TIME.

So, thing about eggs, that includes whats inside it right? so...Revolutionize yourself right? Right? That's obvious right?

Oh new duelist. Cool cool.

Utena getting slapped. By Nanami. With Utena being hella submissive. (EPISODE 8 FLASHBACKS INTENSIFY)

maybe a girl can't be a prince. THERES THAT THESIS. E8 FLASHBACKS

Nanami got her brother a kitty.

Oh damn it is Nanami. Duel Time. I mean we sall it in the opening but you know.

Jesus Toga, please stop being

OH GOD NANAMI NO. NOOOOOO NOPE NO.

Toga: We ain't kids no more. Shit don't fly.

Nanami: Emotionally devastated.

Is that Miki's sister?

Hey, what happened to the cat?

Juri: Hey, Serious Business, what the fucks up with the duelist?

Toga is perpatrating as badly as nanami actually. He's just less immediately obvious about it I guess.

Goddamnit there's Anthy's next slap. Jesus. Legit, who hasn't at this point. Is this a theme? IS THIS A THING?

Jesus, he's just playing all of this to piss her off? What the fucks up.

...Did nanami kill the cat. Uh...Uhhhhhh.

Ring is an engagement ring. Wait, that's a flat out school rule that everyone knows? For real? Uh.

...What the fuck happened with the kitty. Uh...

ITS TIME. ABSOLUTE DESTINYYYYYYYYYYYY

I just realized the kinda weird framing with Anthy dressing up utena kinda looks like her opening her legs up with the way it get's framed and I'm not sure if that's me just kinda over reading things or if that's a thing.

Nanami's duel outfit is SICK. Also, a yellow alt color of utena.

Actually. ACTUALLY? Is...Is Nanami like an Utena Alt color? That can't be right. Actually looking at them right next to each other they're...straight up alt colors of each other. Not to mention Nanami's my prince thing mirrors Utena.

She just HOT pulled a knife. Oh she's About to fucking hot MERC utena, going for death jessus.

They're supposed to be around the same age too for that matter right?

She absolutely killed that cat and it's...

With her hair down she does look like an utena alt color even more.

Why's the duel music still going after the duel finished. Jesus. This wasn't a duel with Nanami, it was a duel with Toga, and I think Utena Hot lost it out and out.

Overall Thoughts: Well the Big thing I'm paying attention here are two. First the simpler one.

The Egg has to break the shell of the world to be born right? I'm paraphrasing badly, but the thing is the way they keep phrasing that is that the World is the Egg, but the egg isn't just the shell right? It includes what's inside of it. Which if that's the case, mixed with the way that duels work out being more a clash of ideals than of actual tangible skill, the revolutionize the world bit seems to be referring to them themselves, that is the duelists.

Alternatively, the Bird Referenced, the thing being revolutionized is Anthy. Which...Is an interesting line of thought. Given the Duels as a whole are basically choosing who her fiance will be, that'd imply that ultimately this decides the way that Anthy would come to develop? Or how she chooses to develop? Which ok if so, and the way that Ideals seem to be at play, Suggests...What? Dunno. Need more info, which will be delivered later.

But the other thing here, continuing the mirroring thing, which might be me reading too deeply, but I think not and even if it is Whatever I'm having fun.

THE ENTIRE NANAMI DUEL felt like a Mirror Match.Heck, Nanami dressed like an alt color of Utena, and especially once her hair got undone she looked even more like an alt color of Utena. They're only about a year different in age, and her brother seems to be her Prince type, and he drops the ring on her like an engagement ring, and she basically says I fight like my brother because he's my ideal.

Which is a weird thing since right now it's not going...too far. I'll have to see how it shakes out, but if the mirroring thing continues, the fact that the moment she lost she basically said nope fuck that, Knife Time, was...Concerning. It says real concerning things with Utena.

But it also says other interesting things then, because if Nanami is supposed to be some kind of Alt color Utena, similar in ambition goals and the like, if more outwardly girly to Utena's princey thing, their relationship with Anthy is uh..

Uh...

Well put simply, Utena is fucking up big and dramatic with Anthy, and she doesn't realize it at all or care because she can't see it for what it is. Nanami actively tries to undermine Anthy, and does some fucked up things to her. Which..Makes me wonder about the Divine Judgement thing from Episode 8 which, damnably, seems to be forming some kind of key here.

Like the way it's frame suggests the divine Judgement being visited upon Nanami is what's being talked about. But ok, Nanami had some bad shit happen to her sure, but...All of that was self inflicted upon her trying to fix what she percieves as a problem. Yes her reasons for doing it are so she can be with her brother, no doubt, but...They're ridiculous. Like, I cannot believe this shit is happening. But

But

If the Target of Divine Judgement/punishment is the Anthy Utena duo, one or both of them are on the receiving end of it. It's not clear how Acting like Utena would be a punishment for Anthy (I'm sticking with it just being a personality swap and not a full mind swap) but Utena who prides herself on being princely and aspires to that being the super submissive rosebride? I could see that being a kind of hell for her. And if the logic of Utena is Undermining Anthy holds out, but the criitcal difference being her ignorance and dishonesty of why compared to Nanami unabashedly saying yes I am fucking doing this fuck you I get what I want no hold barred, it...

Like, Nanami, as far as it goes, doesn't really receive a punishment if we're being honest. Yes she takes a couple of elephants to the dome, and has to be away from her brother and see her thing fail but..The way it's treated by herself and everyone else is basically a LOL THESE THINGS HAPPEN I GUESS HAHAHA. The Utena/Anthy swap meanwhile seems considerably more serious for them (especially considering the Everyone Slaps Anthy thing that seems to legit be a thing. Somehow. Except here Applied to “Utena”), and seems to cause some serious distress.

We'll see I guess.

Episode 11

As I watch this opening more and more, why is anthy like constantly framed like...Ominous as shit? Is it me?

Homegirl is just. Damn. Sure glad NOTHING BAD WILL HAPPEN (I do not trust this series to not have something bad happen to Wakaba. Again.)

Anthy. Are..are you...passive aggressively doing...something

Toga: I can see through the illusions yeah boi.

I do not trust this for an inch. He is abusing the shit out of his framing, like the whole time, and I don't trust.

Toga is “student council prince” archetype. Miki's nerdy student counciler.

EGG TIME

Juri is...Antagonistic But well meaning?

Saionji...I'm not sure he was actually on the stuco. But if so, bad boy.

What....is with the balloons. The color coded balloons.

Miki: Like a Pet Cat.

The Pet Cat that died, got killed.

WHAT IS WITH THESE BALLOONS.

ALSO I SEENT YOU PURPLE BALLOON.

So if the duels are ideal clashes more than actually a matter of direct skill, is this Toga (touga?) trying to fuck with Utena before the fight?

Anthy is a Bird. Ok. And Toga, arguably, being the biggest dick here. We thought it was Saionji, but the trick was he's the red part of the rose.

Anthy shut down REAL quick when being the rose bride was brought up.

Is Utena projecting mad hard onto Anthy here?

Homeboy needs to stop playing these games.

Utena, Stahp. DO NOT TRUST HIM.

Toga, You...DOUCHE. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH

Toga: Oh My B, Shouldn't act that way in front of the rose bride. ALSO DUELING LETS GOOOOO.

Utena: one link forces me to fight him. Meanwhile, rose symbols everywhere, a lot of them brought in by anthy.

Hmmmmmmm.

Utena is hard not understanding something here. I don't know what (rose bride related for sure) but I don't get...WHAT is off here.

Cause thinking about it, Utena's objective with Anthy is arguably the most noble, but she's still not quite treating anthy as a person.

….William Tell Interlude is SUITABLY CONCERNING considering the above thoughts so uh.

Also that was a weirdly specific number. 30K arrows or something?

I just realized that the DARKNESS OF DARKNESS OF LIGHT OF DESTINY OF (INSERT) things seems to show up right around anthy a lot. I'm not super sure if that's a whole thing or just a this episode thing, but...

Is Utena about to get HOT DUNKED? Because I think she is.

Also, I just realized, Utena slid into that pull sword out of rose bride thing right quick and she's never once questioned that.

So yes, Utena has BOOTY but cheeks swordsmanship, which yeah, obvs. Two of the people she beat were actually skilled before this fight, and yet she won somehow.

I don't know how to deal with these lyrics. But Toga is absolutely fucking with her head here.

And She Lost. Decisively. YUP. WELP THIS IS GONNA BE A THING NEXT TIME.

Toga: Hey you don't have to deal with this bullshit anymore.

Utena is doing the EXACT same shit Miki and Saionji were pulling, and Anthy's blank soulless stare is freaking me the hell out. Again.

So, ideals here. But the idea that whoever has a...better grasp of the truth is the victor. Which makes sense that Toga wins here.

Jesus, Soul crush 2.0, except it's on Utena this time. Goddamn.

WELL NEXT EPISODE PROMISES TO BE FUN.

Utena: ITS NOT TRUE. ITS NOT TRUE!

The Anime Revolutionary Girl Utena IMMEDIATELY: MISSING TRUTH ETCETC HOLD ME IN YOUR TRUE ARMS I WANT TO KEEP SMASHING LIES APART

SURE THAT MEANS NOTHING GUYS GGNORE.

Also, no joke, these seem like a Direct response to this episode and I'm not sure how to feel about that.

I want to be hated by lies? Uhhhhh.

Overall Thoughts: So Hey, Here we are in Episode 11 and I want to talk about how Utena and Saionji basically are each other right here.

Like overtly even I think, even if the actions aren't precise clean mirrors to each other which I guess is just how i'm going to be going through this series right now RiP.

But ok, here's the thing. What has been increasingly clear as time goes by is that Utena is fundamentally misunderstanding something about Anthy. I'm not sure fully what it is, but it's clearly Rosebride related, and the thing with the clashing ideals suggests that the.

Actually let me explain that clear like. Right now my read on the Duels is that they are NOT in any way shape or form a demonstration of skill. I Think that's clear through this point, but I'm making it explicit for my own sake. The Victor of the Duel isn't the better fighter. If that were the case, It'd suggest the only ones in the running at all would be Toga or Saionji (Juri should also be in here, but I'm not actually clear how skilled she is compared to those two, and the way they're treated suggests that Toga and Saionji are comparable in pure skill/ability.)

But Utena somehow beat Saionji like three times, Juri and Miki. Miki's whatever, but Juri clearly knows what she's doing, and Saionji seems to be Kendo Team captain so you know. Up there. Meanwhile, Utena explicitly is an amateur.

I'm not saying, in full, that actual skill with the blade is a null thing, but your ideals seems to be the biggest factor over everything else. Presumably, people rocking equally “powerful” ideals would fall to skill with the sword.

Anyway. The Truths that Seem to be critical are Anthy Wants to Be Free of the Rosebride. Ok, so Utena has the right read then right? But then she lost to Toga who seems to be rocking Anthy Wants to Be, or else Considers herself fundamentally to be, the Rosebride, which is something that Utena seems to be denying about Anthy, but is none the less true.

But then, How are Utena and Saionji the same? Well, remember an episode back where I was talking about the divine punishment thing and all that jazz from episode 8?

It hits both of them for mistreating the Rosebride. There is a fantasy going on between Utena and Saionji, and while Saionji's is a bit complicated and unclear I think, Utena's actually is pretty straightforward I think. Utena want's to be a prince. That's her fantasy. The general virtues she want's to possess are great. Good even. But the specific's seems to involve a kind of rides in and saves the day riding in on a white horse thing, where she's the hero and does for some poor unfortunate girl what her prince did to her.

Saionji's meanwhile, seems to be something of him having a genuine reciprocal relationship with Anthy, with him inhabiting the role of a badboy romantic lead while the two of them have feelings for each other. When, really, he doesn't seem to care for her, or at least the feelings that he has for her are considerably weaker than whatever awkward feelings he has going on for Toga (I'm seriously a little fuzzy here, cause it feels like following his most recent defeat he's rocking some kind of clarity? I don't know how it's gonna work out, but I could sorta see him Returning and upsetting whatever the then status quo is.)

But notably, the big thing between them is their staunch refusal to accept what seems to be really true about their relationship with Anthy.

That the end theme seems to immediately pop up as an answer to Utena's reaction feels...Purposeful.

#revolutionary girl utena #liveblogish #In which I just have to accept that i'm probably gonna be looking at foils everywhere for everything #Things Get Spicy #I should really consider getting images but for right now i refuse.#liveblog

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ramblinganthropologist · 5 years

Text

Writober 2019 - 18 (Hurt/Comfort)

Setting: That Actor AU, Dragon Age II

Summary: Seriously, though... does that count as RPF?

---

Nothing like lunchtime in costume to create weird situations.

“Ugh, I need this thing off now.”

Briala grimaced as she grabbed her arm by the elbow and twisted. It went round a few times, and then popped out of the socket. She rotated her affected shoulder and sighed in relief as she placed the prosthetic on the table in front of her. It needed to charge anyway.

Across from her, Malcolm was also in costume with similar lack of fucks to give. At least this time neither of them were in armor. Talk about uncomfortable; she usually had to eat standing if they stopped at an armored scene. At least in Dragon Age plain clothes, she could sit.

Best of all? Her pants had pockets for her phone.

“We're dong that scene after lunch, so you better put it back in.” Malcolm was on his phone, stretched out in the chair so he could accommodate his larger frame. At the angle he was sitting, she couldn't see what he was reading. Part of her had hoped she could guess from the reflection coming off his head, but... no, that was just in comics.

She shrugged her shoulder and hopped into a chair to check her phone. “My shoulder is killing me. Damn thing is heavier than I remember.”

At least her phone was working. The last time she'd had it on, it had been open to one of her guilty pleasure websites. The jury was still out on if reading fanfiction about the character you played was considered weird, but she was pretty sure it was a bit off. Whatever, not like she had ever cared about what people thought. It tended to come with the territory when you were a one armed transgender gremlin.

Briala hummed as she scrolled through her fanfiction list. “Hey, question.”

“No you cannot use me to get better cell service.” Malcolm deadpanned as he kept doing whatever kept him glued to his phone. That caused the elf to roll her eyes and stick out her tongue. Not that he saw it – damn millennial kept looking at his phone.

Said the millennial. Briala was honest.

“No, I have a legit question.” She held her phone out, displaying the screen. “Would shipping Moses and Avery be considered RPF?”

Not that she did – that was her NOTP honestly. But still, did it count?

Malcolm didn't answer her query for a good minute. At least she got to watch as his face flashed through a number of emotions, the most major one being confusion. That was the one he settled on, eyebrows knit together.

“What?”

Briala nodded to her screen. “RPF. Real person fanfiction. I mean, they were both people, but we're also playing them and there's the Tale of the Champion and all. So are they characters or like... is it creepy?”

Malcolm's face journey only continued. “I'm... not sure. Why are you even looking for that?”

Because she was lonely and single and Avery Hawke had become something of a self insert for her in the last couple months?

She at least played it off with a one-armed shrug as she took her phone back. “Just curious I guess. I don't ship it. Moses was too gay for that.”

“You're damn right he was.” Was that a hint of pride in Malcolm's voice? “Is Champion stuff really that big in Database of Dreams?”

He had moved over, casting a shadow in order to look at the dirty details. Just because of that, Briala had to turn up the brightness on her phone screen. She probably would've been able to see it regardless, but it was the thought that counted. He had human eyes, after all.

“I mean, Avery and Moses is kind of small. I fell ass first into that one. The canon stuff is obviously the most popular.” She paused, making a face herself now. “Again, can I even call this canon? Something feels weird about that.”

Navigating the waters of historical fiction crossed with biography was tricky, especially when it came to the fan-written smut penned centuries later. Briala had a feeling she probably should have been more concerned... but eh. They were all dead anyway.

“Not weird enough to keep from bookmarking a lot of Avery and Isabela, I noticed.” Malcolm had the ghost of a smirk on his face. “Which one is more popular, Moses and Fenris or Moses and Anders? And please don't tell me Cullen or Sebastian are popular.”

…

“Bri-”

“I'm not saying jack shit, dude.”

Yeah, awkward feelings all around on that one. People were weird. Like, there were better choices right the fuck there than Cullen of all people. Even centuries later, it was still clear what a massive douche the guy was. And she wasn't just saying that because she was a lesbian – she knew dicks when she saw one.

Malcolm shook his head at her reaction. “Wonderful. I can only imagine the horrors contained within those.”

“I can only imagine too because I don't read them, just judge them hardcore.” Briala kept scrolling. “And to answer your question, it's slightly edged towards Anders with some fluffy stuff and angst depending on who's writing the bird man. Fenris tends to have a lot of hurt-comfort stuff, but the fluff there is adorable.”

Made sense, given the two men's backgrounds and histories. If anyone deserved that particular genre, it was those two. Of course, H/C wasn't exactly her thing. When she wanted fanficiton, she went straight for the PWP.

No shame in the game – just good smut.

“Huh. Might have to check that out later.” He shot her a blank look. “If I get addicted to reading fanfiction about the character I play, I blame you.”

Briala chuckled as she put her phone back in her pocket. “Then you better blame Maria, because she's the one who got me started.”

“That... is surprising.” A timer went off in the background – they had to wrap things off before going back to filming. “Better put your arm back in.”

Her chuckle tuned to a groan. “Damn it, already? Feels like I just took the damn thing off.”

Back in went the arm, with the familiar pop that always caused her to shudder as the nerves connected. A few adjustments, and nobody would look too closely. Post production would cover the rest up, and then it would just be the annoying fans who minded.

And really, fuck them.

“Well, let's go pretend we didn't just read fanfiction about this scene.” Briala hopped up onto Malcolm's shoulders like a good little gremlin to get into character better. Together, the two of them headed back towards set and the rest of filming.

Later, maybe they would share recommendations with each other. While she hadn't worked with the man for very long, she had a good feeling his taste wasn't total shit. At least he wouldn't be sending her Moses and Varric.

Now that was just crack.

#ramblinganthropologist's writing #That Dragon Age Actor AU #writober2019

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godstaff · 6 years

Text

The definition of ...love?

No other superhero is being defined by who he/she bangs or lives with, the way Superman is defined by Lois Lane.

I’m not saying it in a good way.

Not even Spidy was defined in such manner by MJ, since he is well known for flirting repeatedly with Felicia Hardy, and still aches for the death of Gwen Stacy, who many consider the real love of Peter’s life. The times he was judged solely by his romance with the red head, it played against him and he appeared as a douche-bag.

And that’s my point: most male heroes (in the past, they were usually men) had love interests, mainly to provide them with a damsel in distress to rescue and prove his masculinity or some lost lover to avenge. But Lane, even though she started as a glorified DiD, became so popular, she eventually took over, becoming “Superman’s girlfriend: Lois Lane”. Their job at the Planet turned into her domain, where she does as she pleases, defining even Clark Kent’s career as journalist, and making him and the other workers mere stooges at her service. It’s normal seeing Supes leaving whatever he’s doing, no matter how important, to go to her rescue, when it should be abnormal: he’s a hero, sworn to protect the planet, not The Planet’s star reporter. Needless to say, printed media is rapidly dying in the digital era, but since she wouldn’t have anything to do without the Daily Planet, he’s stuck in it with her BECAUSE of her. Stuck in the past because of her.

After they married (and even before), Lane was aware of the importance of Superman’s mission, nevertheless, she keeps on throwing herself into perilous situations, risking her life stupidly for a scoop, fully knowing the fact he will prioritize her over anything else, rushing to rescue her, even to hold her hand at the hospital during a vicious alien attack on Earth. The only time he put the life of Wonder Woman before that of Lane’s father, Lois never let him forget it.

Many times he’s paralyzed, victim of his doubts, until she tells him what to do. That makes him look like a self doubting wimp. No strength of character at all.

He used to interact more with his colleagues, male and female, now she even defines who he should be friends with. Nowadays, Clark and the other superheroes must reunite in the house he shares with her, and she usually has a saying in the decision making process...wtf?

One thing is true: she’s his tether to his humanity, because she does her best trying to make him forget his alien origin, by completely denying it. She never acknowledged he’s from outer space, not even once calling him by his birth name, “Kal-El”. It’s okay wanting him to feel like part of this world, which he is because he decided so long before he met her, but negating an important part of who he is and his heritage as a Kryptonian, one of the last few, is not the proper way.

Lois also defines his worth as a hero: if she dies, all his moral values die with her and he becomes a murderer, a despot and who knows what else. Therefore, he had no values to begin with, unless she’s around. He goes as far as inventing an immortality serum to preserve her forever by his side. Did he share it with the rest of humanity? Did he use it to help those mortally ill? Nope: just Lois. Selfish? You bet. Not the best image for a hero to have.

Writers go to ludicrous extremes to justify her presence in Superman comics and in his life, even giving her superpowers and all, but the truth is she has very little to do. Besides, the old trope of the all-mighty hero with a human lover and a secret identity was long ago outdated. Authors of other comics understand this, but Superman gets stuck in amber, only to make it possible for Lois to be with him. She also defined his non-adaptation to the modern times.

She’s a very limited character, forcing him to be limited as well. In order to make her shine, she must throw shadow on him.

She tampers with Superman’s growth and evolution: The Superman character has been frozen in time because Lois character is frozen in time: since her first appearance she’s been exactly the same. No, giving her a child is not evolution at all if it means she didn’t change a bit with the experience. Supes experienced certain positive changes during the New 52, when he wasn’t dating her but Wonder Woman instead, so, they killed him: it’s being with Lois or die.

Lane’s presence defines the Superman character in a bad way, it limits the stories authors can do with him and, in the end, it hurts him as a comic book hero.

#superman #lois lane #definitions

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shepherdsoreydidnothingwrong · 6 years

Note

In that case, may I place a request number #19 for Eizavie, please? I wish you the best of luck for the real life shenanigans!

Of course ^_^ Thank you for the support

#19: “So, can you fly with those or...?”

Warning for some blood and possibly uncomfortable imagery. This will be angst.

AO3 Link

Zaveid arrives at the cave late in the evening. He stands in the rain with the slope of the mountain at his back and stares at it for a while.

It is a deep, dark cave. The perfect place for a local monster to hide and terrorise the village that stands at the foot of the mountain. He can understand their fear, their quick conclusions. He can understand it all. It still sucks.

His shoes click on the stone floor as he enters. As he walks, he brushes his hands through his hair, then over his pants. They dry unnaturally quickly, leaving only fading wet footsteps leading inside. His footsteps echo in the small space.

It does not take long for the sound to mingle with something else. He has better hearing than most, but it is not far into the cave, still. There is a faint sound of ragged breathing, followed by the shifting of clothing and the clatter of pebbles on stone.

Zaveid steels himself and keeps walking. A dark form takes shape before him, huddled on the ground like a man injured.

He stops there, some distance away. He reaches out a hand and lights a flash of magic. Just a brief flare of green, but it tells him all he needs to know.

Eizen lies on the ground before him, curled up and shivering. His clothing is worn and torn, a far cry from when Zaveid last saw him. His hair is a matted mess, his face gaunt and pale.

Zaveid focuses on his face, and in the next brief flash of magic, he sees the beginnings of dark scales forming on his cheeks. One of Eizen's eyes is spotted with sickly yellow, the pupil a slit like that of a cat.

But the most shocking thing about him is the pair of black leathery wings which have torn through the back of his coat. They curl close to him as he shifts uncomfortably, as though he is trying to make them smaller. Zaveid sucks in air through his teeth.

"You look like hell," he says.

Despite everything, Eizen manages a dry chuckle through wet lungs.

"Thanks."

There is little more he can say than that about what is happening. Were they different people, he might have been frightened, panicked, even. As it is, he simply reaches into the pack at his hip and pulls out a thick and neatly folded blanket. A girl in the village gave it to him after he healed her little brother. They were the only ones for miles with any good resonance.

Eizen makes a sound that may be a growl as the blanket is draped over him. Zaveid sits down next to him, reaches into his bag, and lights a small torch which he sets up between two rocks. The light flickers and draws their shadows out over the floor of the cave.

There is a moment in which Eizen shifts and visibly considers throwing the blanket off, but then he settles in beneath it with a weak sigh.

"You shouldn't be here," he says.

Zaveid leans against the cave wall and shrugs. "There are many places I shouldn't be."

Eizen shakes his head, and even that seems to hurt judging by how he cringes.

"You know what I mean. The malevolence will get to you."

Zaveid huffs, nonchalant. "Please. I eat malevolence for breakfast."

There is some truth to what he means, at least. He stayed so long with Theodora that he must be practically inoculated at this point. Either way, he will not leave.

"If you get corrupted before you can fulfil your promise," Eizen says slowly, "I swear I will eat you."

"Fair enough," Zaveid says, instead of the many jokes that come to mind.

Silence falls over them then, and the sound of the rain begins to seep into it. Were it not for the convulsing wings on Eizen's back, it may have been soothing.

"How did you find me?" Eizen asks quietly.

Zaveid looks out towards the rain in the distance.

"The village thinks you're going to eat them," he says. "Some of them saw you getting here."

"Oh."

"Don't worry," Zaveid says lightly. "I told them you only eat naughty children."

"Fuck you," Eizen hisses softly, but when Zaveid looks at him, he can see a hint of a smile.

"Nah. You don't seem up to it right now."

He could move closer, could settle on the ground just next to Eizen, but something tells him he would not be welcome to do so. Eizen looks feverish and clammy, and Zaveid hopes that the blanket will warm up him soon.

"I went to see Edna," he says. To his surprise, Eizen actually moves to look up at him.

"How is she?" he asks.

"She's fine," Zaveid says quickly. "Still at the mountain and safe. Missing you, though."

Eizen's eyes fog, and with his eyelids close to closing, his yellow eye almost looks normal in a certain light.

"I regret very few things," he says.

"I know," Zaveid says before he can continue that particular train of thought. Eizen relents on it quickly.

"Take care of her?"

Zaveid looks him in the eyes and says "She won't let me."

Eizen smirks.

"Fair enough. Stay close?"

He nods. "That I can do."

It will not occur to him until much later that Eizen may not have meant staying close to Edna. Perhaps he meant both, but it is not something Zaveid understands right now. He has no time to think on it, because Eizen continues.

"And speaking of, can I ask you to do something else?"

Zaveid looks away from him then. He knows already what this is going to be.

"Can we just not talk about that for one night? We never just hang out anymore."

Eizen shakes his head softly. "You know what I mean, Zaveid. You promised, and I think this is far enough to be proof that it's not going to change."

"Velvet went much further than this and still restored the world's balance," Zaveid says casually. "I told you we'll figure something out."

"You promised me you'd kill me first. Are you going back on that?"

Zaveid bristles.

"I'm not. Can we just have one night of not talking about it?"

Eizen stares at him. Zaveid sighs.

"Look. If it helps anything, I can kill you in the morning. Deal?"

Eizen stares for a moment more before before adding, "Deal."

They glare at each other for a bit, and now Zaveid is unsure of how to continue the conversation. Grudgingly, he reaches out and pulls the blanket a little further up Eizen's shoulders.

"Dick," he mutters.

"Douche," Eizen mutters back and curls up a little more.

They stay like that for some time. At first, that seems to be it. There is a long pause in which neither of them know quite what to say. Zaveid is almost swallowed up by his own sad thoughts, looking out at the gentle rain.

Then Eizen coughs and groans pitifully, and he reminds himself just why he is here in the first place. He did not come for the two of them to sit in a cave and break each other's hearts more.

He looks at the gangly wings. One of them is unfolding, stretching piece by piece towards the wall as though Eizen is working out a cramp in it. Eizen looks less than happy to do this.

Zaveid knows that this hurts him. He knows that Eizen is heartbroken that he will be a danger to others, but there is nothing Zaveid can say to make that better. He knows what his place is, and he cannot go through what he went through with Theodora again. He draws in a deep breath.

"So," he says lightly, carefully, "can you fly with those or...?"

It has the desired effect. Despite everything, Eizen still has it in him to give a weak laugh.

"You are such an asshole," he says. Zaveid shrugs, smirking.

He can do nothing more than this, just being here, but perhaps that is enough for the moment.

So he stays there, sitting on an uncomfortable rock and refusing to shut up, until Eizen is finally able to fall asleep.

***

Eizen wakes from a nightmare to a searing pain in his back. He stretches the wings awkwardly, and warm blood runs down to seep into his shirt.

The world blurs a bit as he opens his eyes. The first thing he sees is a sliver of sunlight. Then he opens them fully and looks out at the mouth of the cave. The sun is already up. It is long into the morning.

He has not slept like this for a long time, and for the first time in a long while now, he actually feels a little better. Annoying as he is, anything, including Zaveid's presence, would have been soothing in the hell that was last night.

Eizen sits up, keeping the blanket carefully wrapped around him and looks at the green sunlit glade outside. He does not have to look beside him to know that there is no one there. He knows that. He knew that it would be so when he fell asleep. It still makes him angry, but he is too tired.

"Asshole," he mutters into the soft fabric. "Curse you and your hope."

#Eizen #Zaveid #toz #zaveizen #angst #prompts #Sage practices writing #galysh

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momo-de-avis · 6 years

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tell me more about millais and the whole "steal ur wife and have a happy marriage with her lmaoo" and the whole pedo thing??? im intrigued

At the top of my head and very quickly without bothering myself with checking things online cause I’m a bit lazy sorry (though I’ve been over this story for quite a while, I trust my instinct)

When the Pre-Raphaelites appeared, they were the bad boys of London. Reasons:

1) Fucked around, mostly Rossetti

2) Broke academic rules by painting in excruciating and vivid details that weren’t possible with the naked eye (like Holman Hunt painted every single blade of the grass—your eye can’t see it unless you stare closely at it, so academically, that was ugly)

3) Used redheaded women as models. Now, Victorians were absolute fucking lunatics, but the ideal beauty to them was some corpse-looking Morticia Adams. Black hair and pale skin, was top notch. Blonde, blue-eyed beauty came second, probably. What mattered was the pale skin. It was a trend among Victorian women to paint purple and blue veins to look as dead as possible because the frailty of women in a society that told they literally were good for nothing except breeding was the Latest Trend. Redheads, however, were considered cursed. Case in point: the greatest pre-raphaelite muse, Lizzie Siddal: she was not only a red-head, but her skin was also darker than most prefered. Not that she was anything but a white woman, just not white enough to look like you were already flirting with tuberculosis and ready to die fashionably at 40 (though Lizzie was famous for being constantly sick and bedridden. And addicted to Laudanum, like a good Victorian).

4) Basically what gave them the name: PRE-raphaelite. To explain quickly: academic painting privileged the art that resembled Raphael's paintings: harmonious, made of volumes through precise shadowing, mannerist in its style. Line and drawing prevailed above colour. This is linked to formalism so I’m just gonna wrap it up quickly: drawing was considered the intellectual form of art (because in the 16th century people were like ‘oh, astronomy is a science!’ and 'oh, mathematics is a science!’ and people were like, 'well shit, we gotta find a reason to call arts a science too’ and the Renaissance worked that out by explaining that drawing was basically a form of science. Take Da Vinci). The Pre-raphaelites said: fuck that noise, and privileged colour. They used techniques to brighten their paintings (like a layer of white paint applied to the canvas before they applied the preliminary drawing, which made the colours stand out, and then finished it off with wax varnish, which makes it glow. If you ever see a PR painting live, note just how vivid it is. It looks like it’s never gonna wear off, it’s incredible). So with this, they basically said the Royal Academy was a bunch of piss babies who knew jack shit about painting (the accusation of being dumbasses included).

5) …but to be that guy, you had to LIVE the life. So, if you privilege medieval thinking, lifestyle and theology, what you gotta do? BE that medieval knight Victorians thought were oh so Chivalric. Again, famously, Lizzie Siddal is known to be the bad girl of this revival: she refused to wear crinoline and whatever shit the Victorian ladies wore. She wore loose dresses, no corsets and overall dressed like the engravings on Tennyson’s Idylls of the King. She was actually lauded for her commitment like, even Ruskin at one point saw Rossetti as a piss baby rock star wannabe who never finished his shit, but this girl? She committed.

So you see, when these guys popped up, Victorians scowled. BADLY.

But they knew that, to conquer the hearts of promiscuous dandies and hypocritical high-society, laudanum-ridden, arsenic-eating uptight douches and douchesses, they had to get to the loins of one man: most important art critic of his time, single-handedly responsible for elevating William Turner to the True Genius of English Painting: John Ruskin.

Now, just WHO was John Ruskin?

First of all, this little shit was overtly religious. Protestant kind, so you know what you’re in for. This guy studied Turner back and forth, knew everything about him, wrote extensively of his genius and was responsible, as I said, to consecrate him to the memory of British sea painting. Except he purposefully left a bit out, one particular episode of Turner’s life that, to Ruskin’s mind, would ruin his reputation.

Turner was a freak. My man has ENDLESS erotic drawings that go from curious artist look into the Vagina from full-blown pre-victorian porn. And Ruskin kept it all locked away inside his drawer.

The thing was, Ruskin was brought up surrounded by art. This guy looked at Roman statues of women, with their perfectly waxed peepees and toned arms supporting perky breasts and DEAD ASS though this was what women looked like.

So he married Effie Gray, a woman in everything respectable, a prosperous marriage for the good ol’ Victorian lady and dude.

And for the next five years of their marriage proceeded to REFUSE to even touch her.

When the pre-raphaelites pop up, Ruskin attends their very first exhibition and writes them a glowing review. Immediately they go from nut-heads to pop stars. But among them all, it was clear that it was John Everett Millais who was the most talented. So Ruskin took him under his wing.

His first assignment was: paint my portrait. But the pre-raphaelites did something the British academics didn’t: to paint nature, they went outside and painting the motif by looking directly at it. And Ruskin, who praised this mode of making art, had in mind the precise spot he wanted to be painted on: a waterfal or some shit in Scotland, where he owned a cottage.

This cottage was not big. It was actually rather small—you know, in pretending-to-be-a-peasant-is-so-much-fun! victorian fashion. And what does this absolute buffoon does? He invites Millais and his wife Effie in to paint his portrait.

Now I want you to imagine this woman, who has been pushing down 5 years of Horny, putting up with this dude’s shit, enclosed in a tight space with this man—who was older than herself—and incidentally, a handsome looking young fella who paints nicely.

I insist on this thing that Ruskin didn’t touch his wife because he thought women looked like statues because he actually told her. He told her he found her repulsive because—what do you know!!! The peepee’s got some pubic hair! And women menstruate! And like, we’re real fucking things, not Pygmalion's wet dream forged over and over again! She actually wrote a letter to her father detailing this (if you watch the show Desperate Romantics, the scene were Effie confesses this to Millais, the actress is actually reciting this letter word for word).

So when they return to London after the painting is done, they just… Fall in love. I mean, shit, what was she supposed to do?

The face of a man who doesn’t know he’s about to be shit-whipped by his pupil, painted by none other than his protegée, this same pupil.

But remember: no matter what Victorian fangirls say, and whatever that Victorian TV show tries to show you, this society was absolute utter shit for women. Effie Grey presented an annulment proposal to her marriage, and society collapsed on her. She was actually blamed for the fact that Ruskin wouldn’t consummate the marriage. And because she had grown quite close to Millais, she had to prove before the entirety of Victorian society that she was a virgin. Oh, yes. It’s what you’re thinking.

Those open-your-legs-wide-and-let-me-insert-this-not-at-all-friendly-looking-metal-utensil-up--your-private-canal-to-prove-you-are-a-virgin. This, mind you, was back then as utterly humiliating as it sounds now, and to make matters worse, Mr. I-only-fuck-clean-shaven-pussy claimed she was mentally unstable.

Either way: annulment conceded, and she married John Everett Millais. The two went on to a lifelong of fucking and 8 children. Check Millais’ painting Peace Concluded and tell me those two idiots did not die happy together.

I kid you not: until Millais’ death, Effie was socially ostracized. She was even barred from being present in social events where Queen Victoria was, proclaimed by the Queen herself (because remember kids! Victorian society absolutely sucked because it was none other than our favourite imperialist who made it so!) even after she ordered Millais the first Laureate painter. It was only when Millais was dying that in his death bed he BEGGED to lift that stupid shit and she conceded. I just honestly believe Effie didn’t give a shit at this point, because my girl was happy.

So, you ask, what happened to Ruskin?

Don’t think he got off easy lmao. He had his own demise. He wasn’t seen with good eyes after the whole annulment debacle. But of course, being the pissy adult he was, he had to make things worse.

Enter Rose de La Touche.

You see, Rose de la Touche was Ruskin’s pupil. She is, as far as we can tell from his writings, the only woman he ever called attractive and revealed to be attracted to her. When, you ask?

When she was fucking 9 years old, the first time he met her.

He became tutoring her when she was 14. At this point, this ugly ass vulture was way past his 40s. Rose’s parents actually made it worse if my mind doesn’t fail me, but I’m not certain so I won’t address them. Either way, he pretty much groomed her and she grew infatuated with him. He actually made plans to marry her once she turned like, 18 or something, like a good pedo.

The only reason Rose didn’t marry Ruskin? Effie Gray stepped in. Not that she was that interested in what was to happen. The thing was, the reason for the annulment was that Ruskin was impotent, and if he fucked a healthy girl and she got pregnant, she’d be in the shits. But either way, I think it was easy given that he was like 40 years older or some shit. Rose actually declined to marry because she wanted the marriage to be unconsummated, but this time around, ya big Pedo declined! I wonder why was it so easy the first time, and so hard now that he found himself a neat little child to corrupt, right?

At some point, even fucking Rossetti intervened. Now, Rossetti was the rock star of his time: he fucked everything that moved, he got into affairs with the wives of his pupils while Lizzie lingered between life and death at his home, and it took him some 9 years to finally keep his promise to Lizzie and marry her ass. He was the last person you’d expect to say a thing. But you know you’ve fucked up and that you’re a perverted piece of shit when THIS IS THE GUY who steps in to say 'hey, Ruskin, big fan, but you really gotta tone it down cause even I’m not a pedo, pal’.

Now listen: yeah, there’s a lot of speculation about Ruskin’s 'love affair’ with Rose de La Touche. Did he really fall in love with her when she was 9? We don’t know. We don’t care either, because it doesn’t make him any less a fucking pedo. Like, yeah, good art critic, nice theory on the whole Modern Painting book, but this dude had some serious issues.

And there you go

#breakerofvows

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moonstruckbucky · 6 years

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SUMMARY: Billy Hargrove’s jealousy is ugly, and one night he takes it just a little too far.

PAIRING: Billy Hargrove x female!Reader

WORD COUNT: 2.1k

WARNINGS: Language, mentions of abuse

AUTHOR’S NOTE: I know it’s an overdone imagine but Billy’s character screams insecurity, and with that insecurity comes completely outrageous and misplaced jealousy. A recipe for disaster. Also the timeline is altered a bit to flow with the story. Sorry not sorry!

Dating Billy Hargrove was many things. Interesting was the word you settled on most often because nothing about your relationship was normal or boring.

Not in the least.

How did he get her?

What the hell does she see in him?

The questions bouncing around the hallways seemed to lull as your relationship grew, but occasionally you’d see the looks. Sometimes, in the privacy of your room, you wondered the same thing. Billy was the king of Hawkins High, after dethroning Steve Harrington (but most of you believed he welcomed the change in status), and while you weren’t a social outcast, you also weren’t high on the hierarchy. You were just there, and for some reason beyond you, Billy was interested.

You weren’t sure what exactly he saw in you, but once your relationship hit the five-month mark, he had started and gotten into far fewer fights, his attitude wasn’t quite as cocky as when you’d first met him, and he was showing up to your window with far fewer bruises courtesy of his father. You found out about his home life after he showed up at school with a busted lip and a bruised cheek. Regardless of the marks on his knuckles (a trick he thought would fool you into thinking he was fighting again), you saw right through it; he’d been better at keeping his anger in check and opting to walk away rather than throw down.

You’d cornered him after school, letting him lower his guard into believing he was off the hook, and, after prying and a lot of growling on his part (Are we sure Billy’s not part werewolf?) he spilled his guts to you. It was a tense few moments as the new information hit you; his behavior made sense: the acting out, the rage, the need for validation from his peers that he should’ve been getting at home. The surprise was evident on his face as you plowed into him, wrapping your arms around him and holding him hostage there as you tried to convey without words that you would be there for him.

Since then, your relationship was only looking up.

Until Tina’s Halloween bash.

Come and get sheet-faced, the flyer read as it was shoved into your chest in the hallway. You sighed; parties weren’t really your thing, but they were Billy’s, and you admittedly felt more comfortable by his side at one. He slowed up on the drinks when you were there, which you were thankful for. Tina’s party was no exception.

You dressed up as a modest Sandra Dee, and Billy went as...himself, complete with a half-unbuttoned dress shirt. Girls from school eyed him; you’d long learned to ignore it. You figured it came with the territory.

He brushed by you and headed into the kitchen, his fingers running down your arm as he shot you a smirk over his shoulder. He was back in a few moments with half a cup of whatever concoction had been mixed for the night. The two of you stuck to a private corner of the otherwise-filled living room full of dancing and drunken teenagers.

In the middle of your conversation, Billy was suddenly tugged away to the chant of Keg King! Keg King!, which made you smile cheekily and waggle your fingers at him as Tommy H. manhandled him out into the backyard. You weren’t a partier, but you wouldn’t infringe on Billy’s obvious enjoyment of it. Besides you, partying was an outlet for him, a way to let go of everything that plagued him at home.

A familiar head of brunette hair making a beeline across the living room pulled your attention away, and your eyebrows furrowed as Steve Harrington elbowed his way to the front door. His face was pinched in anger, and he was particularly aggressive in shoving some drunk football player out of his way.

“Steve!” you called, pushing off the wall. He didn’t hear you as he stepped out into the night, and only when you grabbed his arm did he whirl on you.

Surprise registered on his face for a moment before it settled into a scowl. “Oh, it’s you.”

Steve and you had been friends once, but since your relationship with Billy, it had since become very strained. Billy and Steve were fire and oil respectively; combine the two and you’d better duck in cover. You missed seeing Steve, still considered him a friend even if he might not.

“What’s wrong? You looked pretty pissed in there,” you noted, gesturing back towards the house.

“What’s it to you?” You reared back at the harshness in Steve’s tone, and regret immediately shadowed his features. He sighed. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t...I didn’t really mean that. Nancy, she...she...”

“What happened?” you asked softly, taking Steve’s arm and leading him to sit down on the curb. He ran a hand through his unruly mane, ruffling it even more.

“She called our relationship bullshit,” he muttered, dropping his head. You frowned and sighed.

Steve and Nancy were the power couple of the school; well, besides Tommy and Carol, and perhaps you and Billy. But they were the two who should’ve made it out of high school. Nancy was enamored with Steve, especially when they first started dating, so it was a shock to the system to hear she didn’t love him.

“I’m sorry, Steve,” you responded, dropping your chin onto his shoulder. “I know how much you love her.”

“I miss you, you know,” Steve suddenly said, deflecting away from the disaster that was now his relationship. You smiled softly. Perhaps you weren’t so one-sided in wanting your friendship back.

“I miss you, too. We should hang out--”

You were suddenly yanked roughly to your feet by your arm, shocked as all get out to see Billy glaring daggers at Steve.

“Your girl finally dumped your ass so you’re after mine? Fuck off, Harrington,” he snarled, his voice taking on a note of possessiveness you’d never heard before.

“Jesus fuck, Billy,” Steve sighed, running a hand over his face. “That’s not what this is. And let her go, you’re hurting her.”

Billy’s grip was suddenly gone, leaving a soreness in its wake as an apology flashed briefly in his eyes when he looked down at you. But it was gone in seconds and replaced with the wall you were all too familiar with.

Ignoring Steve as he protested, Billy hooked an arm around your neck and pulled you away from the former Keg King and down to his waiting Camaro. Through the whole ordeal, you were still shell-shocked from the fact that Billy had put his hands on you in a way he hadn’t before. You stayed silent as Billy drove, the music off and a heavy silence settling between you.

“Really, Harrington of all people?” he growled, rubbing his chin in aggravation.

“We’re friends, Billy.”

“Since when?! The douche hasn’t talked to you in months!”

“Because of you!” you suddenly shouted, taking both him and yourself by surprise. You sagged in your seat, heaving out a tired sigh. “You don’t get along; of course Steve is going to stay away. He knows it’s not fair to ask me to play referee between the two of you.”

“Looks like he’s just biding his time,” he hissed through gritted teeth, still floored by your exclamation. He never wanted to keep you from having friends, but, as he’d said, Harrington? He could play pool with that beanpole. Shave that stupid hair clean off and use him as a cue stick.

“It isn’t like that.” Your tone was indifferent.

“Can I come up?” Billy asked as he pulled into your driveway, but you were already slamming the door and walking up your walkway without a look back. Billy punched the steering wheel before backing out and roaring down the street.

Billy gave you a whole new thought process that night. You sat cross-legged on your bed in your pajamas, staring blankly at the wall as you tried not to read too much into the marks that had already begun to form on your arms. Billy would never hurt you; he had never hurt you. But with the events of the night replaying in your head, you knew he had gone too far.

The next morning at school, Billy waited by your locker, but you didn’t show. When he drove to your house this morning hoping you’d let him drive you, your mom told him you’d left early to work on a project. He wasn’t dumb; you were avoiding him, and it made a sick, sour feeling settle in his stomach. He didn’t see you at lunch either, and he went the whole day without so much as glimpsing more than a flurry of your hair as you walked down the hallway until the very last bell rang.

You couldn’t avoid him in the parking lot, and there he was, leaning against his Camaro, searching for you. When his eyes locked on yours, you inwardly sighed.

It hadn’t been easy to avoid him; you knew he was looking for you everywhere, and each time you caught a glimpse of his head spinning this way and that searching for you sat uneasily with you. It hurt you, probably as much as it hurt him, but you needed the space to formulate what you would say to him once you let yourself be seen.

He met you halfway in the parking lot and wordlessly, you followed him to his car. It was a silent agreement between you that you head to the open fields at the end of Hawkins. It was quiet and there was no one around; often Billy brought you there after a particularly rough night with his dad. He didn’t talk much during this time. Instead, he sought solace in the curves of your body, and you let him.

This time, silence encapsulated the car as Billy threw it in park. Cigarette smoke filled your nose as he lit up, cranking the window down to hang his arm out the window.

“I’m sorry.” The way his voice strained told you he meant it, and you nearly forgave him then and there, but you didn’t want to be one of those girls who lets her man off the hook to repeat his error over and over again. It killed you to do what you did next, but it needed to be done. He needed to know.

You tugged your jacket off, made awkward by the small space in the car, and lifted your sleeve. The look that settled on Billy’s face was almost enough to make you regret it and drop your sleeve. You’d become an expert on reading him, and the sudden self-deprecating expression broke your heart. But you kept your face a mask, letting him absorb the ring of bruises around your upper arm in the shape of his fingerprints.

“This can’t happen again, Billy,” you finally said, feeling that the message had thoroughly soaked through. “I’ve tolerated a lot from you, and you’ve come so far from that angry boy I met six months ago. But you still have a long way to go and last night, last night really made me wonder about the future of this relationship. You...you scared me last night, Billy, for the first time. And I want that to sink in with you. I can handle more than you think, Billy, but what happened last night cannot happen again. I swear I won’t be around long enough for you to even blink if you lay your hands on me like that again. I can forgive it this once because I know you’re trying. I can see it, everyone else can see it. But if you grab me like that again, I’m gone.”

Billy was trembling in the seat beside you with barely restrained self-hatred. He glanced over as you lowered your sleeve and your eyes turned soft.

“I didn’t show you so you’d hate yourself,” you murmured, reaching over to grasp his hand. His fingers curled tightly over yours and he brought your hand to his mouth, peppering kisses across your knuckles in an unspoken apology. “I showed you so you could turn that hatred into change, Billy. I know you can, and I will be right there with you. I love you.”

The kiss he pressed to your mouth was bruising, but he poured every emotion he couldn’t say into it--gratitude, regret, love. It was all there. He pulled you across the console into his lap, winding his fingers through your hair as he pulled you even closer.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he breathed against your mouth. “I won’t fuck up like that again. I’m sorry.”

He continued to whisper apologies into your skin that night as he claimed your body as his, determined to make you believe that he could change, that he had changed, for the better.

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove x reader #bill hargrove x reader fic #billy hargrove/reader #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things 2

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