#frank reeves x reader

[johnwickb1tsch]

Vino Veritas - Part II

A Destination Wedding Frank x Fem!Reader Fic

Attending the wedding of your ex-fiancé gets slightly better when you meet someone having just as miserable a time as you... Warnings: Nothing too serious holy shit. Cursing. Broken engagement. Nihilism, existential bullshit, copious amounts of sarcasm. Eventual nsfw, not this chapter. Angst. Grump/sunshine trope. Loosely based on the movie but I'm not that smart. Or bitter. 😆 chapter map.

II. The Interminable Fucking Car Ride

“So…what do you do?”

“I run the marketing department for JD Power.”

“The car trophy people?”

“That’s a magazine.”

“Ah. So you’re the grand architect of big corporate’s bid to tell us what to think while slyly taking all our money.”

He snorts. “Only those who are incapable of thinking for themselves. Somehow, that doesn’t seem to apply to you.”

If you squint, that almost felt like he was paying you a compliment.

“So, what do you do?” he asks in turn.  

You don’t know why you’re almost embarrassed to tell him. “I run an art gallery/gift shop on the beach in Playa Bonita.”

He blinks, those lovely dark eyes fixed on you for a moment. “Of course you do.”

“What does that mean?”

He huffs a little. It almost sounds wistful, but then he frowns, utterly fucking ruining the moment.  “You just look the type.”

You’re not sure why that stings…or why you even give a fuck.

The Fucking Rehearsal Dinner

“I’ve never really understood the point of the rehearsal dinner. Is eating so hard we really have to rehearse it?”

You sense an almost twitch of the corner of Frank’s mouth. They have stuck you together at a table in the far back. The black sheep who they felt they had to invite, but didn’t really want to.

“Not to miss the opportunity to make the groom’s parents spend unnecessary money too?” Frank offers.

“Fair to spread the misery, I guess.”

“Didn’t you sue Keith over this shit?”

“My parents did. They lost thirty thousand dollars in deposits.”

“Jesus fucking Christ. No one should spend that kind of money on a wedding.”

“Strangely, I agree with you now. I didn’t know any better at the time.” You’d been so young, you could hardly even fathom how much thirty-thousand dollars was.

Your parents had been happy at the time with the prospect of marrying you off to Keith. He’d been successful, charming, and outwardly doting on you. They never really thought you had much going on your own, so they probably thought he was the best you could do. The thought still hurts, more than it should.

“I mean,” you blurt, “Did you know who you are or what you wanted when you were 20?”

“Of course not.”

“He was my whole world. When he dumped me. It...it really fucked me up.” You don't know why you're admitting this to this near total stranger. There is just something about his forthright manner that demands honesty. 

“Ah well, join the club. My father tried to shoot me once, if it makes you feel any better.”

You blink. “He tried to shoot you?”

“Yes. With a gun.”

“What did you do?”

“I ran at him.”

“You ran at him? Not away from him?”

“Yeah. Well, I was pissed off. He tried to shoot me again, but I got the gun away from him and hit him with it. Broke his orbital bone. He said I was the accumulation of all his bad decisions. He started to cry and begged me to kill him. I didn’t, only because I didn’t want to fuck my whole life up. The poor bastard jumped out the seventh floor the next day.”

Before you can stop yourself you reach out to place your hand on his on the table.

Before he can stop himself, his long fingers close around yours.

This connection endures for precisely 1.5 seconds before he shakes you off.

“I’m fine.”

“I don’t think your fine.”

“Fine, I’m all fucked up, but there’s nothing I can do about it.”

You sigh, sinking down in your chair, embarrassed. Why did you touch him? What were you thinking?

“I guess we’re in the club together,” you answer miserably.

You feel him looking at you out the corner of his eye. There is a weight to this man’s gaze. It’s not unpleasant, just…you feel as though he sees everything.

“I feel like we should get at least decoder rings or something,” he grumbles.

The bride and groom make their entrance, interrupting whatever acerbic thing you were going to say next. You watch as they make their way through the crowd, basking in the glow of being the center of attention. Keith always loved that shit. You hate to admit, that his bride to be is a solid stone cold foxy 10. The kind of woman that men will trip over themselves for as they walk down the street.

You weren’t bad looking but you’d never had that kind of power.

If you wanted to trip a man, you had to do the dirty work and actually stick out your foot.

“Oh, look at us, let us presume to inconvenience you with the ostentatious display of our love,” you mock quietly in a mousy little falsetto.

It actually makes Frank laugh. At least, you think it’s a laugh. Maybe it was indigestion.

He joins in, though forgoing the funny voice, “And we’re conceited enough to think we’re actually different from the rest of the human race, and our love will last forever and ever…”

You’re enjoying this malicious bit of fun, but there is something in the way that he says it that makes you pause. “You don’t think love can ever last?” you ask.

He snorts. “Well, he doesn’t. I heard the prenup she had to sign was brutal,” he tells you.

 “Poor thing.”

“You really feel sorry for her?”

“Slightly?”

“Are you going to say hello?”

You sigh. “I guess I fucking better.”

You slowly make to stand, the chair screeching under you. “Give ‘em hell, kid.”

You flip Frank the bird as you go, and hear that peculiar strangled sound that must pass for his outward expression of mirth.

Dumb ass free shit you would never do on your own

"I spoke to the bride last night."

“Indeed?”

You’ve had pedicures before, but you’ve never sprung for a professional foot massage, and you have to admit it feels pretty good. It totally surprised you to find Frank there, but he’d informed you unashamedly that he can’t resist free shit. You find that amusing, considering he’s obviously comfortable, if not outright rich.

Maybe that’s how he stays that way.

“Yes, and she told me she doesn’t mind that you’re here, and she’s not threatened by you.”

You snort at that, taking a long sip of your iced latte.

“At least, I think she meant you. She’s dumb as a box of rocks, it was hard to tell who or what she was talking about at times.”

You sigh at hearing that. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to soothe my feelings.”

It’s his turn to snort. “Merely reporting facts, I assure you. If you still feel badly about Keith and have not managed to move on to one of the other 8 billion people on this planet, then there is no helping you.”

“Is that your method for getting over a bad breakup?” He makes it sound so easy, you cannot help but roll your eyes at him.

“No, I have opted out of that shit show. It makes me uniquely qualified to offer comment on your own situation.”

You tilt you head in confusion, looking over at him. “You’ve…opted out of what? Dating? Romance? Marriage?”

“All of the above. It never ends well, as I have learned from watching my mother’s train wreck of a life as she blithely stumbled between marriages and boyfriends and suitors.”

“That’s so sad,” you blurt before you can stop yourself.

If you hadn’t already started to learn this man’s gestures, you would have missed the way he stiffened slightly, staring fixedly down at his feet.

“How many times have you been in love?” he asks.

You think about it, and regret the answer. “Just the once.” With Keith, the asshole. Any one who came after didn’t have much luck getting over the wall you built to protect yourself from another heartbreak.

He looks at you then, and you are pinned by those chocolate brown eyes, that for once seem earnest rather than annoyed. “What’s it like?”

The fact that this man, who is at least ten if not fifteen years your elder, is asking you tears your heart into little bits of confetti.  

“It’s like going insane,” you answer truthfully, and he looks back down, frowning.

“I thought so.”

***

You are standing in your inflatable body bumpers together on the sidelines, declining to partake in this insane sport, content to watch the others attempt to inflict cervical injuries on themselves and others.

The question is eating at you, and you decide what the hell. What’s he going to do? Be mean to you?

“So, you’ve never been in love?”

“I don’t think so,” he answers, frowning, though it’s the same frown he’s been wearing for the past hour watching the idiots running around the field.

“Believe me, you would know.”

“Do insane people know they’re insane?”

“Ok, maybe that was a bad comparison. It’s…total surrender.”

“Wow, you’re really talking it up.”

“It is though. You have these special feelings for a person, and you just know whatever they do to you, it won’t matter, because you’ll still care for them.”

“It doesn’t matter, until it does matter.”

“Some people have higher tolerances for pain than others.”

“If you loved Keith you could probably take a Caesar-style stabbing without flinching.”

You’re not sure how exactly to respond to that.

“At any rate. I prefer to avoid pain rather than withstand it. My parents inflicted quite enough. No need to spread it around.”

“Alright, I get it that your parents sufficiently traumatized you, with the failed marriages and the…shooting thing. But doesn’t there come a point where you have to let it go and rise above it?”

“I don’t see any reason to.”

“Think about all your missing out on though.”

“What exactly is that?”

“You know…human connection. The things that make life worth living.”

“Jesus, are you sure you don’t work for Hallmark?”

“Positive.”

“I bet you sell rocks in your shop that have inspirational words carved in them.”

“Of course I do. The markup on those things is astronomical.”

You see him smirk out the corner of his eye.

“I bet you also sell little statues of big-eyed children slinging bible verses.”

“Ohhh, now those are fighting words, sir.” You bump him lightly with your inflatable tutu, making him shuffle a step. For a fleeting moment, you catch a hint of a smile, and it feels like a resounding victory.

Feeling bold, you fix him with an earnest stare. “You claim you’ve opted out of this mess. But what if you meet someone you really like?”

“Then I should probably run swiftly in the opposite direction,” he says, paying you a side-eyed look.

Five minutes later, he does quit the field, though he doesn’t quite run from it. You tell your self that it’s just a coincidence, and that he was just done standing in a polyvinyl orb in this heat.

But deep down…there is the tiniest kindling of something in your heart, and you know you should kick dirt over that shit and stomp on it.

You don’t, and you carry a ridiculous little light feeling with you as you return to the hotel.

It feels like you swallowed a butterfly.

[juniperwoodwell]

Master list

Disclaimer: I only do Gn or Female for X reader, I don't do OCs.

I will write smut but I'm not great at it.

Request's are open.

I take Plots,prompts, dialogue prompts,etc. Anything your imaginative minds can think of.

•Prompt List

!NEW! Keanuverse

•Keanu Reeves

•Summer of the Buzz Cut (90's Keanu)

•John Wick

•John Constantine (2005)

•Johnny Utah

•Blurb- Rest in peace not in pieces

•Kevin Lomax

•Ted "Theodore" Logan

•Exhausted (requested)

•Conor O'Neil

•Julian Mercer

•Neo "Thomas" Anderson

•Exhausted (requested)

•Tom Ludlow

•Exhausted (requested)

ADCU

•Prompt Exchange with @kylowritten

•ADCU prompt list

•Kylo Ren / Ben Solo

•Favorite Distraction°

•Pen and Paper°

•Domesticated°

•Dedication Masterlist°

•Flip Zimmerman

•Proud

•Adam Sackler

•Phillip Altman

• Reunion pt.1

•Ren/Zimmerman/Sackler/Altman

•How ADCU character's react to an S/O who is insecure.

X-Men

•Charles Xavier

•Oneshots•

•It's a goldfish and cream soda kinda night

•Totally normal morning!?

•Skits(?)•

•Snacks

•Cruel Joke

•Late nights

•Requests•

•Paris

•Erik Lehnsherr

•Love is Complicated

Batman

•Bale!Bruce Wayne

•Presence

Top Gun Maverick

•Bradly "Rooster" Bradshaw

•Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Daredevil

•Matthew Murdock "Daredevil"

•Night Terrors (Request)

• And Down We Fall

•Frank Castle "Punisher"

•The Beast Finds Love

9-1-1

•Eddie Diaz

•Thief (part 1)

•Thief (part 2)

•Theif (part 3)

•Theif (part 4)

•Theif (part 5)

Moon Knight

•Steven Grant

•Ducky

•Marc Spector

•Jake Lockley

Others

•Damon Salvatore

Request's are open

(Gotta think of some more later lol)

[fortheloveoffanfic]

Navigation

✨ 18+

✨ Most works explore adult themes, discretion is advised.

✨ My works are exclusive to this blog and ao3; any copying, reposting or translating is not permitted.

Because of the ban on certain tags, ALL warnings are posted at the top of my fics and are always emboldened. Please read all warnings (if any) carefully before proceeding.

✨ Requests are open, however, I retain the right to refuse any request that I do not want to or have the capacity to write.

✨ All interaction is welcome but any form of hate or discriminatory language will not be published. This blog is a safe space for all.

✨ All fics are tagged with their names for added ease of access.

Keanu Reeves Characters:

John Wick (John Wick franchise, 2014-)

Tom Ludlow (Street Kings, 2008)

Jack Traven (Speed, 1994)

John Constantine (Constantine, 2005)

Julian Mercer (Something's Gotta Give, 2003)

Shane Falco (The Replacements, 2000)

Cillian Murphy Characters:

Thomas Shelby (Peaky Blinders, 2013-2022)

Jim (The Delinquent Season, 2018)

Chris Evans Characters:

Ransom Drysdale (Knives Out, 2019)

Andy Barber (Defending Jacob, 2020)

Frank Adler (Gifted, 2017)

Rahul Kohli Characters:

Hassan el Shabazz (Midnight Mass)

Napoleon Usher (The Fall of the House of Usher)

Keanu Reeves/Characters

Cillian Murphy Characters

Chris Evans Characters

Hozier

12 Days of Christmas Writing Event (2021)

Masterlist Page

*If the previously mentioned links do not work, a common occurrence on mobile, try "masterlist tag" in the search bar of my blog.

a03

✨ Updated weekly

Anywhere That You Are. Hozier x reader. Summary: A scene of Y/n and Andrew enjoying their vacation in a secluded spot in the mountains of Italy. Warnings: NSFW/SMUT, semi-public sex, an obscene amount of fluff.

Broken Chords: See how it shines. Hozier x reader. Summary: 6 weeks after they last saw each other, Andrew can’t seem to get past his and Y/n’s last exchange in New York. In a last-ditch effort to save their relationship, Andrew makes a long distance call from Paris. Warnings: Angst.

Moves: Hozier x reader. Summary: Y/n has had feelings for Andrew for a while now, and she's pretty sure he feels the same. Can one night change everything?

[typing-catastrophe]

📝Everything you need to know

characters I write for: tasm!Peter Parker, Charles Xavier, Erik Lehnsherr, Peter Maximoff, Matt Murdock/Daredevil, Frank Castle/The Punisher, Poe Dameron, Pietro Maximoff, Bucky Barnes, Loki, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Avengers (platonic), Supernatural characters (platonic), Stanford Pines, Neo (Matrix), John Constantine (movie w Keanu Reeves)), Newt (Maze Runner)

fandoms*: marvel (mcu, xmen movies, defenders), supernatural, gravity falls, star wars, stranger things, the magnus archives, marauders, maze runner, sherlock bbc, hannibal nbc * fandoms I am currently in, I won't guarantee that I'll write for all of them tho

pairings: Cherik (Charles Xavier/Erik Lehnsherr), Steddie (Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson), Wolfstar (Sirius Black/Remus Lupin), Destiel (Dean Winchester/Castiel), Stucky (Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes), Obikin (Anakin Skywalker/Obiwan Kenobi), Newtmas (Newt/Thomas), Napollya (Napoleon Solo/Illya Kuryakin), all the previous listed characters x reader & cherik x reader (at the moment the only poly ship I write for)

no-gos: underage reader and characters (platonic okay), cnc/nc, incest, pregnancy, real people (actors e.g.) and anything else that makes me uncomfortable

Even if something/someone is not on the list, feel free to ask me about it :]

💕 = fluff ⚡ = angst 🔥 = smut

There is gonna be no use of y/n. (unless someone requests that for some reason I guess?) Everything will be written in 2nd or 3rd person. The reader will be gender neutral unless otherwise specified. You will find warnings/content tags, word count and a summary at the beginning of each fic/longer piece.

Explanation Tags:

'typing...' is my tag for basically just yapping about smth

'my writing' is every imagine, headcanon, fanfic, drabble etc. I wrote

'request' is every request I get and answered or anything related to them

And that's it I think. Let me know if I should include anything else in here.

Updated: 14 september 2024

[spiderispunk]

Request Guidelines

[Please read the following post before submitting requests]

Requests are currently: OPEN

I will NOT write: Super long and detailed requests, fics about underage characters, torture of any kind, toilet play, rape, and anything else I don't want to.

Here are the following fandoms I typically write for:

Marvel

DC

Shadow & Bone

Top Gun: Maverick

Star Wars

Characters I currently write for:

Marvel: Billy Russo, Sam Wilson, Bucky Barnes, SamBucky (x Reader and without), TASM!Peter Parker, Eddie Brock (w/Venom and without), Frank Castle, Loki Laufeyson, Sharon Carter, Matt Murdock, Druig, Drukkari, Joaquin Torres, M'Baku

Star Wars: Boba Fett, Fennec Shand, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Darth Maul, Han Solo, Koska Reeves

DC: Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth

Top Gun: Maverick: Jake "Hangman" Seresin, Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, Javy "Coyote" Machado, Natasha "Phoenix" Trace, Mickey "Fanboy" Garcia

Shadow & Bone: The Darkling, Nikolai Lantsov, Matthias Helvar, Nina Zenik, Helnik (x reader or separate)

Miscellaneous Characters: Jim Hopper

Please be patient when submitting requests. I'm a teacher and life can get kind of busy. If you submit a request that I don't vibe with, and decide not to write, don't take it personally!

[flightlessangelwings]

Here is my masterlist of all my fics for Kinktober 2021! All fics are labeled with what type of reader they are and all other warnings can be found on the fics themselves. Obviously, these all contain smut so no one under 18 should be reading or interacting with these fics please! Header made by me!

To stay updated on when I post, feel free to follow my fic update blog @flightlessangelwings-updates​ and turn on post notifications!

The list I used this year was provided by the wonderful @the-purity-pen and the full list can be found here! Divider made by @firefly-graphics

❤️ = personal favorite

1. Face sitting- Logan Delos x afab!reader

2. Threesome- Din Djarin x fem!reader x Koska Reeves ❤️

3. Ass worship- Bishop Losa x fem!reader

4. Spanking- Angel Reyes x fem!reader

5. Lap dance- Horacio Carrillo x fem!reader

6. Deep throating- Din Djarin x gn!reader

7. Strip tease- Ezra x afab!reader

8. Size kink- Paz Vizsla x fem!reader

9. Lingerie- Loki x afab!reader

10. Hickey/Biting- Santiago Garcia x afab!reader

11. Sleepy sex- EZ Reyes x afab!reader

12. Body worship- Benjamin Greene x fem!reader

13. Edging- Boba Fett x afab!reader

14. Temperature play- Billy Russo x fem!reader

15. Collaring- The Darkling x fem!reader

16. Nipple play- Din Djarin x afab!reader

17. Pegging- Benny Miller x fem!reader

18. Sex work- Pero Tovar x fem!reader ❤️

19. Overstimulation- Frank Castle x fem!reader

20. Sex toys- Thirteenth Doctor x afab!reader

21. Wax play- Comandante Veracruz x fem!reader ❤️

22. Thigh riding- Joel Miller x fem!reader

23. Cock warming- Marcus Pike x afab!reader

24. Slow and soft- Sam Wilson x fem!reader

25. Breath play- Fennec Shand x afab!reader

26. Strap- Captain Marvel x fem!reader

27. Swallowing- Frankie Morales x afab!reader

28. Teasing- Billy Russo x afab!reader

29. Food play- Clint Barton x afab!reader

30. Praise kink- Marcus Moreno x afab!reader 

31. Wild card: somnoplilia- Comandante Veracruz x fem!reader

[grace-928]

“The Vanishing of Will Byers” Part 2

ClPairings: Steve Harrington x Henderson!reader

Warnings: none

A/n: Thank you to everyone who liked the first part! This story is just for fun and I’m happy that some people like it:)))

Word count: 1459

*Btw the gifs aren’t mine and don’t apply to this part of the story I just wanted cute videos of Steve lmao*

Shit. Shit. Shit. We are so fucking late.

“Dustin!” I yell, the tooth brush hanging between my lips. “Get up, we’re gonna be late!” I hear a loud groan as I finish brushing my teeth and wipe my mouth off. 

Right as I’m about to bust up into Dustin’s room I hear our house phone start ringing. Sighing, I run to the kitchen and grabbed the phone before it stopped ringing. “Hello?” 

“Hi, Y/n, it’s Joyce.”

“Oh, hi, Mrs. Byers.”

“I was wondering if Will spent the night at your house last night?”

Confused I reply, “Uh, no ma’am. He biked off to your house once Dustin and I got home from Mikes. We left a little after eight, why? He’s not home?”

 “Uh,” Mrs. Byers starts off, “You know what? I think he just left early for...for school. Thank you so much. Bye.”

“Oh, ok, by-” I try to respond, but she hangs up before I can finish my sentence. ‘That was odd.’ I thought before hanging the phone up. 

Walking to Dustin’s room I slam open the door and the first thing I see is the drool running down his chin. “Dude, get the hell up and get dressed.” I say as I rip the blankets off of him. “Mom will be pissed if she gets a call from the school saying that we were late...again.” 

“I’m up, I’m up.” He groans, getting up and walking to his closet. 

“Good, I’m gonna fix us a quick breakfast and by the time I’m done you better be ready to head out the door.” He rolls his eyes murmuring a ‘yeah, yeah’ before I walk out of his room, heading to the kitchen. 

After feeding Mews and fixing Dustin and I a pop-tart, I head to my room to grab my keys and my bag. Mine and Dustins rooms are right beside each others making the wall behind our beds connected to each other. When Dustin was little he would have these little nightmares, so he would knock three times on the wall and, since I’m a light sleeper, it would wake me up. So, being the amazing big sister I am, I would go in there and hold him until he went back to sleep. I eventually would end up falling asleep along side him. I slam my fist on the wall behind my bed. “Hurry the hell up dipshit! You have three minutes until I’m leaving your ass here.” 

“I’m coming!” He yells, exiting his room at the same time I exit mine. I throw him his pop-tart, making him stumble with his jacket and book-bag. Dropping both items in the process. I laugh at the clumsy tween in front of me. I walk out of the house, Dustin soon on my trail, and get into my car reeving the engine. Right as he shuts his door I put the car in reverse and speed off to school.

_____________

“Mom’s gonna have your ass if she finds out how fast you just went. Especially in the school zone.” Dustin says, a mischievous grin on his face.

Parking at the middle school to let him out, I roll my eyes looking at my little brother. “What the hell do I have to do now?” 

“I won’t tell mom that you were going fifty in a twenty-five if you give me the Marvel Chris Claremont and Frank Miller’s Wolverine.” 

“What?! No?! That took me six months to get and it was hella expensive. No way, think of something else.”  I say, rolling up my window before I head to the high school.

Opening the door to get out of the car, he shrugs his bag on, the same evil grin on his toothless face. “Then I guess when we get home moms gonna find out and your gonna be in deep shit.”

“Okay, okay!” I yell, right before he slams the door shut. “I’ll give it to you.” He throws his fist up in victory. “But,” I start, and the happy smiles slowly goes down once he knows whats coming. “Just remember...payback is a bitch.” 

“Well, shit.” I hear him whisper before he slams the door shut and I speed off to go park at the high school. 

As I’m walking to my first period class, I have to ignore the usual stares I get from the assholes of students in this Godforsaken high school. I don’t really get along with anybody in this school except for maybe Nancy Wheeler and Barb Holland. It’s not that I don’t want friends it’s just that people either think I’m weird or I’m hot. And when they think I’m weird they don’t stick around for long, but when they think I’m hot they just use me to get with one of the many guys that I have rejected here. 

“Good morning, Y/n.” 

I jump from the surprise of another persons voice as I unlock my locker. Once I notice it was Barb who greeted me, my nerves slowly calm down. 

“Good morning Barb, Nancy.” I say as I notice Nancy taking out her Chemistry book. “Don’t worry about Kaminsky’s test. You’ll-we’ll do fine on it.” 

“Thanks.” She says, a nervous laugh following up. “You’ve been nervous for it too?” She asks after a few seconds.

“Oh, definitely. His tests are impossible, no matter how high someones GPA is.” I say laughing along with her. “But, come on Nance, you’re the smartest person I know, you’ll be fine.” I glance over to the inside of her locker and notice a folded up piece of paper. “Oh, now what is this.” I quickly grab the paper before she can protest. “ ‘Meet me. Bathroom. -Steve.’ Gross, thank God I know exactly where I won’t be before class.” 

She snatches the paper from my hand and puts it in her pocket, a blush slowly appearing on her face. 

“You were saying?” Barb says. Which I’m guessing is from their previous conversation. 

“I’ll see you guys later.” Nancy says, before closing her locker and rushing off to the girls bathroom.

“Have fun Nancy, we all know you will!” I yell out to her, Barb smacking my arm, but eventually she, too, was laughing at my remark. 

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

Halfway through Kaminsky’s review packet of the test. The principal walks in interrupting the class.

“Mr. Kaminsky, may I see Ms. Y/n Henderson, please. This will only take a moment.” The principal asks. 

Kaminsky nods to me. I put my packet into my binder and grab my bag. Once I’m out of the room I see the Chief of police. Jim Hopper. 

“Um, what is this about?” I ask the chief. 

“I’ll explain once we get to the office. We just have to ask you a few questions about last night.” He replies as we start to walk to the office.

“It’s about Will, isn’t it? Joyce called me this morning before Dustin and I went to school.” I admit as we walk into the office. When we all have taken our assigned seats, he grabs a note pad and starts to ask the questions.

“Can you tell us everything that happened last night? You were at the Wheelers house, I believe?” He starts off.

“Yes, well I wasn’t there as long as the boys but I was there around eight to eight thirty-ish. I went to go pick up my little brother, Dustin.”

“And did you take him in your car or...?” 

“No, I drove behind him, Lucas, and Will to make sure they got home. Lucas got home first, then me and Dustin. Wait. Did Will not make it to his house last night?” I asked, cause now that I think about it, I didn’t follow him to make sure he got home safely. 

“No, he did not. And now we are trying to locate him. Do you know what road he takes home?” He asks, placing his hat on his head.

“Yeah,” I say, starting to get nervous for absolutely no reason. “The boys call the road Mirkwood. It’s from The Hobbit.”

Sighing, the chief stands up. “Yeah, that’s exactly what the three boys told me. You’re excused Ms. Henderson. Thank you for your help. When you get out of school, you head straight home and make sure your little brother stays put. We don’t need three more boys going missing because they were too stubborn to listen.”

“Yes sir.” I say as he walks out with his lieutenant in tow. As the principal dismissed me back to class, there was only one thing on my mind. Knowing the boys, those three little shit heads were gonna get themselves in trouble by going out to search for Will. Great, now I gotta be their damn babysitter. 

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

A/n: Just btw, it might seem that the reader is mean to Dustin but when I write them together it’s like a brother/sister kind of love. or a love/hate relationship lol. I didn’t want anybody to think I’m hating on Dustin, I would never, he’s one of my favorite characters! Anyways, hope ya’ll liked it, enjoy! <3

[davidmann95]

So... Morrison’s 10 part interview on All-Star Superman, along with all other older Newsarama articles, just seem to have ceased to exist. One does not simply live without having those interviews available to reread... Can I find them anywhere else?

Rejoice! I finally borrowed a computer I could put my flash drive into, and emailed myself my copy of the Morrison interview. Here it is below the cut, copied and pasted direct from the source way back when, available again at last:

Three years, 12 issues, Eisners and countless accolades later, All Star Superman is finally finished. The out-of-continuity look at Superman’s struggle with his inevitable death was widely embraced by fans and pros as one of the best stories to feature the Man of Steel, and was a showcase for the talents of the creative team of Grant Morrison, Frank Quitely and Jamie Grant.

Now, Newsarama is proud to present an exclusive look back with Morrison at the series that took Superman to, pun intended, new heights. We had a lot of questions about the series...and Morrison delivered with an in-depth look into the themes, characters and ideas throughout the 12 issues. In fact, there was so much that we’re running this as an unprecedented 10-part series over the next two weeks – sort of an unofficial All Star Superman companion. It’s everything about All Star Superman you ever wanted to know, but were afraid to ask.

And of course there’s plenty of SPOILERS, so back away if you haven’t read the entire series.

Newsarama: Grant, tell us a little about the origin of the project.

Grant Morrison: Some of it has its roots in the DC One Million project from 1999. So much so, that some readers have come to consider this a prequel to DC One Million, which is fine if it shifts a few more copies! I’ve tried to give my own DC books an overarching continuity intended to make them all read as a more coherent body of work when I’m done.

Luthor’s “enlightenment” – when he peaks on super–senses and sees the world as it appears through Superman’s eyes – was an element I’d included in the Superman Now pitch I prepared along with Mark Millar, Tom Peyer and Mark Waid back in 1999. There were one or two of ideas of mine that I wanted to preserve from Superman Now and Luthor’s heart–stopping moment of understanding was a favorite part of the original ending for that story, so I decided to use it again here.

My specific take on Superman’s physicality was inspired by the “shamanic” meeting my JLA editor Dan Raspler and I had in the wee hours of the morning outside the San Diego comic book convention in whenever it was, ‘98 or ‘99.

I’ve told this story in more detail elsewhere but basically, we were trying to figure out how to “reboot” Superman without splitting up his marriage to Lois, which seemed like a cop–out. It was the beginning of the conversations which ultimately led to Superman Now, with Dan and I restlessly pacing around trying to figure out a new way into the character of Superman and coming up short...

Until we looked up to see a guy dressed as Superman crossing the train tracks. Not just any skinny convention guy in an ill–fitting suit, this guy actually looked like Superman. It was too good a moment to let pass, so I ran over to him, told him what we’d been trying to do and asked if he wouldn’t mind indulging us by answering some questions about Superman, which he did...in the persona and voice of Superman!

We talked for an hour and a half and he walked off into the night with his friend (no, it wasn’t Jimmy Olsen, sadly). I sat up the rest of the night, scribbling page after page of Superman notes as the sun came up over the naval yards.

My entire approach to Superman had come from the way that guy had been sitting; so easy, so confident, as if, invulnerable to all physical harm, he could relax completely and be spontaneous and warm. That pose, sitting hunched on the bollard, with one knee up, the cape just hanging there, talking to us seemed to me to be the opposite of the clenched, muscle-bound look the character sometimes sports and that was the key to Superman for me.

I met the same Superman a couple of times afterwards but he wasn’t Superman, just a nice guy dressed as Superman, whose name I didn’t save but who has entered into my own personal mythology (a picture has from that time has survived showing me and Mark Waid posing alongside this guy and a couple of young readers dressed as Superboy and Supergirl – it’s in the “Gallery” section at my website for anybody who can be bothered looking. This is the guy who lit the fuse that led to All Star Superman).

After the 1999 pitch was rejected, I didn’t expect to be doing any further work on Superman but sometime in 2002, while I was going into my last year on New X–Men, Dan DiDio called and asked if I wanted to come back to DC to work on a Superman book with Jim Lee.

Jim was flexing his artistic muscles again to great effect, and he wanted to do 12 issues on Superman to complement the work he was doing with Jeph Loeb on “Batman: Hush.” At the time, I wasn’t able to make my own commitments dovetail with Jim’s availability, but by then I’d become obsessed with the idea of doing a big Superman story and I’d already started working out the details.

Jim, of course, went on to do his 12 Superman issues as “For Tomorrow” with Brian Azzarello, so I found myself looking for an artist for what was rapidly turning into my own Man of Steel magnum opus, and I already knew the book had to be drawn by my friend and collaborator, Frank Quitely.

We were already talking about We3 and Superman seemed like a good meaty project to get our teeth into when that was done. I completely scaled up my expectations of what might be possible once Frank was on board and decided to make this thing as ambitious as possible.

Usually, I prefer to write poppy, throwaway “live performance” type superhero books, but this time, I felt compelled to make something for the ages – a big definitive statement about superheroes and life and all that, not only drawn by my favorite artist but starring the first and greatest superhero of them all.

The fact that it could be a non–continuity recreation made the idea even more attractive and more achievable. I also felt ready for it, in a way I don’t think I would have been in 1999; I finally felt “grown–up” enough to do Superman justice.

I plotted the whole story in 2002 and drew tiny colored sketches for all 12 covers. The entire book was very tightly constructed before we started – except that I’d left the ending open for the inevitable better and more focused ideas I knew would arise as the project grew into its own shape...and I left an empty space for issue 10. That one was intended from the start to be the single issue of the 12–issue run that would condense and amplify the themes of all the others. #10 was set aside to be the one–off story that would sum up anything anyone needed to know about Superman in 22 pages.

Not quite as concise an origin as Superman’s, but that’s how we got started.

NRAMA: When you were devising the series, what challenges did you have in building up this version of the Superman universe?

GM: I couldn’t say there were any particular challenges. It was fun. Nobody was telling me what I could or couldn’t do with the characters. I didn’t have to worry about upsetting continuity or annoying people who care about stuff like that.

I don’t have a lot of old comics, so my knowledge of Superman was based on memory, some tattered “70s books from the remains of my teenage collection, a bunch of DC “Best Of...” reprint editions and two brilliant little handbooks – “Superman in Action Comics” Volumes 1 and 2 – which reprint every single Action Comics cover from 1938 to 1988.

I read various accounts of Superman’s creation and development as a brand. I read every Superman story and watched every Superman movie I could lay my hands on, from the Golden Age to the present day. From the Socialist scrapper Superman of the Depression years, through the Super–Cop of the 40s, the mythic Hyper–Dad of the 50s and 60s, the questioning, liberal Superman of the early 70s, the bland “superhero” of the late 70s, the confident yuppie of the 80s, the over–compensating Chippendale Superman of the 90s etc. I read takes on Superman by Mark Waid, Mark Millar, Geoff Johns, Denny O’Neil, Jeph Loeb, Alan Moore, Paul Dini and Alex Ross, Joe Casey, Steve Seagle, Garth Ennis, Jim Steranko and many others.

I looked at the Fleischer cartoons, the Chris Reeve movies and the animated series, and read Alvin Schwartz’s (he wrote the first ever Bizarro story among many others) fascinating book – “An Unlikely Prophet” – where he talks about his notion of Superman as a tulpa, (a Tibetan word for a living thought form which has an independent existence beyond its creator) and claims he actually met the Man of Steel in the back of a taxi.

I immersed myself in Superman and I tried to find in all of these very diverse approaches the essential “Superman–ness” that powered the engine. I then extracted, purified and refined that essence and drained it into All Star’s tank, recreating characters as my own dream versions, without the baggage of strict continuity.

In the end, I saw Superman not as a superhero or even a science fiction character, but as a story of Everyman. We’re all Superman in our own adventures. We have our own Fortresses of Solitude we retreat to, with our own special collections of valued stuff, our own super–pets, our own “Bottle Cities” that we feel guilty for neglecting. We have our own peers and rivals and bizarre emotional or moral tangles to deal with.

I felt I’d really grasped the concept when I saw him as Everyman, or rather as the dreamself of Everyman. That “S” is the radiant emblem of divinity we reveal when we rip off our stuffy shirts, our social masks, our neuroses, our constructed selves, and become who we truly are.

Batman is obviously much cooler, but that’s because he’s a very energetic and adolescent fantasy character: a handsome billionaire playboy in black leather with a butler at this beck and call, better cars and gadgetry than James Bond, a horde of fetish femme fatales baying around his heels and no boss. That guy’s Superman day and night.

Superman grew up baling hay on a farm. He goes to work, for a boss, in an office. He pines after a hard–working gal. Only when he tears off his shirt does that heroic, ideal inner self come to life. That’s actually a much more adult fantasy than the one Batman’s peddling but it also makes Superman a little harder to sell. He’s much more of a working class superhero, which is why we ended the whole book with the image of a laboring Superman.

He’s Everyman operating on a sci–fi Paul Bunyan scale. His worries and emotional problems are the same as ours... except that when he falls out with his girlfriend, the world trembles.

Newsarama: Grant, what are some of your favorite moments from the 12 issues?

Grant Morrison: The first shot of Superman flying over the sun. The Cosmic Anvil. Samson and Atlas. The kiss on the moon. The first three pages of the Olsen story which, I think, add up to the best character intro I’ve ever written.

Everything Lex Luthor says in issue #5. Everything Clark does. The whole says/does Luthor/Superman dynamic as played out through Frank Quitely’s absolute mastery and understanding of how space, movement and expression combine to tell a story.

Superboy and his dog on the moon – that perfect teenage moment of infinite possibility, introspection and hope for the future. He’s every young man on the verge of adulthood, Krypto is every dog with his boy (it seemed a shame to us that Krypto’s most memorable moment prior to this was his death scene in “Whatever Happened To The Man of Tomorrow.” Quitely’s scampering, leaping, eager and alive little creature is how I’d prefer to imagine Krypto the Superdog and conjures finer and more subtle emotions).

Bizarro–Home, with all of Earth’s continental and ocean shapes but reversed. The page with the first appearance of Zibarro that Frank has designed so the eye is pulled down in a swirling motion into the drain at the heart of the image, to make us feel that we’re being flushed in a cloacal spiral down into a nihilistic, existential sink. Frank gave me that page as a gift, and it became weirdly emblematic of a strange, dark time in both our lives.

The story with Bar–El and Lilo has a genuine chill off ammonia and antiseptic off it, which makes it my least favorite issue of the series, although I know a lot of people who love it. It’s about dying relatives, obligations, the overlit overheated corridors between terminal wards, the thin metallic odors of chemicals, bad food and fear. Preparation for the Phantom Zone.

Superman hugging the poor, hopeless girl on the roof and telling us all we’re stronger than we think we are.

Joe Shuster drawing us all into the story forever and never–ending.

Nasthalthia Luthor. Frank and Jamie’s final tour of the Fortress, referencing every previous issue on the way, in two pages.

All of issue #10 (there’s a single typo in there where the time on the last page was screwed up – but when we fix that detail for the trade I’ll be able to regard this as the most perfectly composed superhero story I’ve ever written).

I don’t think I’ve ever had a smoother, more seamless collaborative process.

NRAMA: The story is very complete unto itself, but are there any new or classic characters you’d like to explore further? If so, which ones and why?

GM: I’d happily write more Atlas and Samson. I really like Krull, the Dino–Czar’s wayward son, and his Stalinist underground empire of “Subterranosauri.” I could write a Superman Squad comic forever. I’d love to write the “Son of Superman” sequel about Lois and Clark’s super test tube baby.

But...I think All Star is already complete, without sequels. You read that last issue and it works because you know you’re never going to see All Star Superman again. You’ll be able to pick up Superman books, but they won’t be about this guy and they won’t feel the same. He really is going away. Our Superman is actually “dying” in that sense, and that adds the whole series a deeper poignancy.

NRAMA: Aside from the Bizarro League, you never really introduce other DC superheroes into the story. Why did you make this choice?

GM: I wanted the story to be about the mythic Superman at the end of his time. It’s clear from the references that he has or more likely has had a few super–powered allies, but that they’re no longer around or relevant any more.

For the context of this story I wanted the super–friends to be peripheral, like they were in the old comics. The Flash? Green Lantern? They represent Superman’s “old army buddies,” or your dad’s school friends. Guys you’ve sort of heard of, who used to be more important in the old man’s life than they are now.

NRAMA: Some readers were confused as to how the “Twelve Labors” broke down, though others have pointed out that Superman’s actions are more reflective of the Stations of the Cross (I note there’s a “Station Café” in the background of issue #12). Could you break down the Twelve Labors, or, if the cross theory is true, how the storyline reflects the Stations?

GM: The 12 Labors of Superman were never intended as an isomorphic mapping onto the 12 Labors of Hercules, or for that matter, the specific Stations of the Cross, of which there are 14, I believe. I didn’t even want to do one Labor per issue, so it deliberately breaks down quite erratically through the series for reasons I’ll go into (later).

Yes, there are correspondences, but that’s mostly because we tried to create for our Superman the contemporary “superhero” version of an archetypal solar hero journey, which naturally echoes numerous myths, legends and religious parables.

At the same time, we didn’t want to do an update or a direct copy of any myth you’d seen before, so it won’t work if you try to find one specific mythological or religious “plan” to hang the series on; James Joyce’s honorable and heroic refutation of the rule aside, there’s nothing more dead and dull than an attempt to retell the Odyssey or the Norse sagas scene by scene, but in a modern and/or superhero setting.

For future historians and mythologizers, however, the 12 Labors of Superman may be enumerated as follows:

1. Superman saves the first manned mission to the sun.
2. Superman brews the Super–Elixir.
3. Superman answers the Unanswerable Question.
4. Superman chains the Chronovore. 
5. Superman saves Earth from Bizarro–Home.
6. Superman returns from the Underverse.
7. Superman creates Life.
8. Superman liberates Kandor/cures cancer.
9. Superman defeats Solaris.
10. Superman conquers Death.
11. Superman builds an artificial Heart for the Sun.
12.Superman leaves the recipe/formula to make Superman 2.

And one final feat, which typically no–one really notices, is that Lex Luthor delivers his own version of the unified field haiku – explaining the underlying principles of the universe in fourteen syllables – which the P.R.O.J.E.C.T. G–Type philosopher from issue 4 had dedicated his entire life to composing!

You may notice also that the Labors take place over a year – with the solar hero’s descent into the darkness and cold of the Underverse occurring at midwinter/Christmas time (that’s also the only point in the story where we ever see Metropolis at night).

It can also be seen as the sun’s journey over the course of a day – we open in blazing sunshine but halfway through the book, at the end of issue #5, in fact, the solar hero dips below the horizon and begins the night–journey through the hours of darkness and death, before his triumphant resurrection at dawn. That’s why issue 5 ends with the boat to the Underworld and 6 begins with the moon. Clark Kent is crossing the threshold into the subconscious world of memory, shadows, death and deep emotions.

Although they can often have bizarre resonances, specific elements, like the Station Café, are usually put there by Frank Quitely, and are not necessarily secret Dan Brown–style keys to unlocking the mysteries. I think there might be a Station Café opposite the studio where Frank Quitely works and the “SAPIEN” sign on another storefront is a reference to Frank’s studio mate, Dave Sapien. At least he’s not filling the background with dirty words like he used to, given any opportunity

NRAMA: For that matter, do the Twelve Labors matter at all? They seem so purposely ill–defined. They seem more like misdirection or a MacGuffin than anything that needs to be clearly delineated.

GM: They matter, of course, but the 12 Labors idea is there to show that, as with all myth, the systematic ordering of current events into stories, tales, or legends occurs after the fact.

I’m trying to suggest that only in the future will these particular 12 feats, out of all the others ever, be mythologized as 12 Labors. I suppose I was trying to say something about how people impose meaning upon events in retrospect, and that’s how myth is born. It’s hindsight that provides narrative, structure, meaning and significance to the simple unfolding of events. It’s the backward glance that adds all the capital letters to the list above.

Even Superman isn”t sure how many Labors he’s performed when we see him mulling it over in issue 10. 
When you watched it happening, it seemed to be Superman just doing his thing. In the future it’s become THE 12 LABORS OF SUPERMAN!

NRAMA: And on a completely ridiculous note: All–Star Superman is perhaps the most difficult–to–abbreviate comic title since Preacher: Tall in the Saddle. Did you realize this going in?

GM: Going into what? Going into ASS itself? In the sense of how did I feel as I slowly entered ASS for the first time?

It never crossed my mind...

Newsarama: I’d like to know a little more about Leo Quintum and his role in the story. He seems like a bit of an outgrowth of the likes of Project Cadmus and Emil Hamilton, but in a more fantastical, Willy Wonka sense.

Grant Morrison: Yeah, he was exactly as you say, my attempt to create an updated take on the character of “Superman’s scientist friend” – in the vein of Emil Hamilton from the animated show and the ‘90s stories. Science so often goes wrong in Superman stories, and I thought it was important to show the potential for science to go right or to be elevated by contact with Superman’s shining positive spirit.

I was thinking of Quintum as a kind of “Man Who Fell To Earth” character with a mysterious unearthly background. For a while I toyed with the notion that he was some kind of avatar of Lightray of the New Gods, but as All Star developed, that didn’t fit the tone, and he was allowed to simply be himself.

Eventually it just came down to simplicity. Leo Quintum represents the “good” scientific spirit – the rational, enlightened, progressive, utopian kind of scientist I figured Superman might inspire to greatness. It was interesting to me how so many people expected Quintum to turn out bad at the end. It shows how conditioned we are in our miserable, self–loathing, suspicious society to expect the worst of everyone, rather than hope for the best. Or maybe it’s just what we expect from stories.

Having said that, there is indeed a necessary whiff of Lucifer about Quintum. His name, Leo Quintum, conjures images of solar force, lions and lightbringers and he has elements of the classic Trickster figure about him. He even refers to himself as “The Devil Himself” in issue #10.

What he’s doing at the end of the story should, for all its gee–whiz futurity, feel slightly ambiguous, slightly fake, slightly “Hollywood.” Yes, he’s fulfilling Superman’s wishes by cloning an heir to Superman and Lois and inaugurating a Superman dynasty that will last until the end of time – but he’s also commodifying Superman, figuring out how it’s done, turning him into a brand, a franchise, a bigger–and–better “revamp,” the ultimate coming attraction, fresher than fresh, newer than new but familiar too. Quintum has figured out the “formula” for Superman and improved upon it.

And then you can go back to the start of All Star Superman issue #1 and read the “formula” for yourself, condensed into eight words on the first page and then expanded upon throughout the story! The solar journey is an endless circle naturally. A perfect puzzle that is its own solution.

In one way, Quintum could be seen to represent the creative team, simultaneously re–empowering a pure myth with the honest fire of Art...while at the same time shooting a jolt of juice through a concept that sells more “S” logo underpants and towels than it does comic books. All tastes catered!

I have to say that the Willy Wonka thing never crossed my mind until I saw people online make the comparison, which seems quite obvious now. Quintum dresses how I would dress if I was the world’s coolest super–scientist. What’s up with that?

NRAMA: Was Zibarro inspired by the Bizarro World story where the Bizarro–Neanderthal becomes this unappreciated Casanova–type?

GM: Don’t know that one, but it sounds like a scenario I could definitely endorse!

Zibarro started out as a daft name sicked–up by my subconscious mind, which flowered within moments into the must–write idea of an Imperfect Bizarro. What would an imperfect version of an already imperfect being be like?

Zibarro.

NRAMA: I’d like to know more about Zibarro – what’s the significance of his chronicling Bizarro World through poetry?

GM: It’s up to you. I see Zibarro partly as the sensitive teenager inside us all. He’s moody, horribly self–aware and uncomfortable, yet filled with thoughts of omnipotence and agency. He’s the absolute center of his tiny, disorganized universe. He’s playing the role of sensitive, empathic poet but at the same time, he’s completely self–absorbed.

When he says to Superman “Can you even imagine what it’s like to be so different. So unique. So unlike everyone else?” he doesn’t even wait for Superman’s reply. He doesn’t care about anyone’s feelings but his own, ultimately.

NRAMA: The character is very close to Superman, so what does it say that a nonpowered version on a savage world would focus his energy through that medium? Also, does Zibarro’s existence show how Superman is able to elevate even the backwards Bizarros through his very nature?

GM: All of the above. And maybe he writes his totally subjective poetry as a reflection of Clark Kent’s objective reporter role. The suppressed, lyrical, wounded side of Superman perhaps? The Super–Morrissey? Bizarro With The Thorn In His Side?

But he’s also Bizarro–Home’s “mistake” (or so it seems to him, even though he’s as natural an expression of the place as any of the other Bizarro creatures who grow like mold across the surface of their living planet). He feels excluded, a despised outsider, and yet that position is what defines his cherished self–image. He expresses himself through poetry because to him the regular Bizarro language is barbaric, barely articulate and guttural. And they all think he’s talking crap anyway.

It seemed to make sense that an interesting opposite of Bizarro speech might be flowery “woe is me” school Poetry Society odes to the sunset in a misunderstood heart. He’s still a Bizarro though, which makes him ineffectual. His tragedy is that he knows he’s fated to be useless and pointless but craves so much more.

NRAMA: Zibarro also represents a recurrent theme in the story, of Superman constantly facing alternate versions of himself – Bar–El, Samson and Atlas, the Superman Squad, even Luthor by the end. Notably, Hercules is absent, though Superman’s doing his Twelve Labors. With the mythological adventurers in particular, was this designed to equate Superman with their legend, to show how his character is greater than theirs, or both?

GM: In a way, I suppose. He did arm–wrestle them both, proving once and for all Superman’s stronger than anybody! And remember, these characters, along with Hercules, used to appear regularly in Superman books as his rivals. I thought they made better rivals than, say, Majestic or Ultraman because people who don’t read comics have heard of Hercules, Samson and Atlas and understand what they represent.

For that particular story, I wanted to see Superman doing tough guy shit again, like he did in the early days and then again in the 70s, when he was written as a supremely cocky macho bastard for a while. I thought a little bit of that would be an antidote to the slightly soppy, Super–Christ portrayal that was starting to gain ground.

Hence Samson’s broken arm, twisted in two directions beyond all repair. And Atlas in the hospital. And then Superman’s got his hot girlfriend dressed like a girl from Krypton and they’re making out on the moon (the original panel description was of something more like the famous shot of Burt Lancaster and Deborah Kerr kissing in the surf from “From Here To Eternity.” Frank’s final choice of composition is much more classically pulp–romantic and iconic than my down and dirty rumble in the moondirt would have been, I’m glad to say).

Newsarama: Tell us about some of the thinking behind the new antagonists you created for this series (at least the ones you want to talk about...): First up: Krull and the Subterranosaurs...

Grant Morrison: We wanted to create some throwaway new characters which would be designed to look as if they were convincing long–term elements of the Superman legend.

We were trying to create a few foes who had a classic feel and a solid backstory that could be explored again or in depth. Even if we never went back to these characters, we wanted them to seem rich enough to carry their own stories.

With Krull, we figured a superhuman character like Superman can always use a powerful “sub–human” opponent: a beast, a monster, a savage with the power to destroy civilization. For years I’ve had the idea that the familiar “gray aliens” might “actually” be evolved biped dinosaur descendants, the offspring of smart–thinking lizards which made their way to the warm regions at the Earth’s core.

I imagined these brutes developing their own technology, their own civilization, and then finally coming to the surface to declare bloody war on the mammalian usurpers! It seemed like we could develop this idea into the Krull backstory and suggest a whole epic conflict in a few panels.

Dom Regan, the Glasgow artist and DC colorist, saw the original green skin Jamie Grant had done for Krull, and suggested we make him red instead. Jamie reset his color filters and that was the moment Krull suddenly looked like a real Superman foe.

The red skin marked him out as unique, different and dangerous, even among his own species. It had echoes of Jack Kirby’s Devil Dinosaur that played right into the heart of the concept. A good design became a great design and the whole story of who Krull was – his twisted relationship with his father the Dino–Czar, his monstrous ambitions – came together in that first picture.

The society was fleshed out in the script even though we see only one panel of it – a gloomy, heavy, “Soviet” underworld of walled iron cities, cold blood and deadly intrigue. War–Barges that could sail on the oceans of heated steam at the center of the Earth. A Stalinist authoritarian lizard world where missing person cases were being taken to work and die as slaves in hellish underworld conditions.

NRAMA: Mechano–Man?

GM: An attempt to pre–imagine a classic, archetypal Superman foe, which started with another simple premise – how about a giant robot villain? But not just any giant robot – this is a rampaging machine with a raging little man inside.

Giving him a bitter, angry, scrawny loser as a pilot turned Mechano–Man into a much more extreme and pathological expression of the Man of Steel/Mild–Mannered Reporter dynamic, and added a few interesting layers onto an 8–panel appearance.

NRAMA: The Chronovore – a very disturbing creation, that one.

GM: The Chronovore was mentioned in passing in DC 1,000,000 and would have been the monster in my aborted Hypercrisis series idea. It took a long time to get the right design for the beast because it’s meant to be a 5–D being that we only ever see in 4–D sections. It had to work as a convincing representation of something much bigger that we’re seeing only where it interpenetrates our 4–D space-time continuum.

Imagine you’re walking along with a song in your teenage heart, then suddenly the Chronovore appears, takes bite out of your life, and you arrive at your girlfriend’s house aged 76, clutching a cell phone and a wilted bouquet.

NRAMA: One more obscure run that I was happy to see referenced in this was the use of Nasty from the old Mike Sekowsky Supergirl stories. What made you want to use this character?

GM: I remembered her from the old comics, and felt her fashion–y look could be updated very easily into the kind of fetish club thing I’ve always been partial to.

She seemed a cool and sexy addition to the Luthor plot. The set–up, where Lex has a fairly normal sister who hates how her wayward brother is such a bad influence on her brilliant daughter, is explosive with character potential.

They need to bring Nasty back to mainstream continuity. Geoff! They all want it and you know you never let them down!

NRAMA: Speaking of Mike Sekowsky, I’m curious about his influence on your work. I have an odd fascination with all the ideas and stories he was tossing around in the late 1960s and early 1970s – Jason’s Quest, Manhunter 2070, the I–Ching tales – and many of the characters he worked on, from the B”Wana Beast to the Inferior Five to Yankee Doodle (in Doom Patrol), have shown up in your work. The Bizarro Zoo in issue #10 is even slightly reminiscent of the Beast’s merged animals.

GM: Those were all comics that were around when I was a normal kid, prior to the obsessive collecting fan phase of my isolated teenage years. They clearly inspired me in some way, as you say, but certainly not consciously. I’d never have considered myself a particular fan of Mike Sekowsky’s work, but as you say, I’ve incorporated a lot of his ideas into the DC Universe work I’ve done. Hmm. Interesting.

While I’m at it, I should also say something about Samson and Atlas, halfway between old characters and new.

Samson, Atlas and Hercules were classical mainstays of old Superman covers, tangling with Superman in all those Silver Age stories that happened before he learned from his friends at Marvel that it was possible to fight other superheroes for fun and profit, so I decided to completely “re–vamp” the characters in the manner of superhero franchises. Marvel has the definitive Hercules for me, so I left him out of the mix and concentrated on Atlas and Samson.

Atlas was re–imagined as a mighty but restless and reckless young prince of the New Mythos – a society of mega–beings playing out their archetypal dramas between New Elysium and Hadia, with ordinary people caught in the middle – and Superman.

Essentially good–hearted, Atlas would have been the newbie in a “team” with Skyfather Xaoz!, Heroina, Marzak and the others. He has a bullish, adolescent approach to life. He drinks and plunges himself into ill–advised adventures to ease his naturally gloomy “weighed down by the world” temperament.

You can see it all now. The backstory suggested an unseen, Empyrean New Gods–type series from a parallel universe. What if, when Jack Kirby came to DC from Marvel in 1971, he’d followed up his sci–fi Viking Gods saga at Marvel, with a dimension–spanning epic rooted in Greek mythology? New Gods meets Eternals drawn by Curt Swan/Murphy Anderson? That was Atlas.

Samson, I decided would be a callback to the British newspaper strip “Garth.” Although you may already be imagining a daily strip about the exploits of time–tossed The Boys writer, Garth Ennis, it was actually about a blonde Adonis type who bounced around the ages having mildly horny, racy adventures.

(Go look him up then return the wiser before reading on, so I don’t have to explain anymore about this bastard – he’s often described as “the British Superman,” but oh...my arse! I hated meathead, personality–singularity Garth...but we all grew up with his meandering, inexplicable yet incredibly–drawn adventures and some of it was quite good when you were a little lad because he was always shagging ON PANEL with the likes of a bare–breasted cave girl or gauze–draped Helen of Troy.

(Unlike Superman, you see, the top British strongman liked to get naked. Lots naked. Naked in every time period he could get naked in, which was all of them thanks to the miracle of his bullshit powers.

(Imagine Doctor Who buff, dumb and naked all the time – Russell, I’ve had an idea!!!! – and that’s Garth in a nutshell.

(Sorry, I know I’m going on and the average attention span of anyone reading stuff on the Internet amounts to no more than a few paragraphs, but basically, Garth was always getting naked. In public, in family newspapers. Bollock naked. Let’s face it, patriotic Americans, have you ever seen Superman’s arse?

Newsarama Note: Well, there was Baby Kal-El in the 1978 film...

(Brits, hands up who still remember the man, and have you ever not seen Garth’s arse? Do you not, in fact, have a very clear image of it in your head, as drawn by Martin Asbury perhaps? In mine, Garth’s pulling aside a flimsy curtain to gaze at the pyramids with Cleopatra buck naked in foreground ogling his rock hard glutes...).

Anyway, Samson, I decided, was the Hebrew version of Garth and he would have his own mad comic that was like an American version of Garth. I saw the Bible hero plucked from the desert sands by time–travelling buffoons in search of a savior. Introduced to all the worst aspects of future culture and, using his stolen, erratic Chrono–Mobile, Samson became a time–(and space) traveling Soldier of Fortune, writing wrongs, humping princesses, accumulating and losing treasure etc. Like a science fiction Conan. Meets Garth.

Fortunately, you’ll never see any of these men ever again.

Newsarama: How have your perceptions of Superman and his supporting characters evolved since the Superman 2000 pitch you did with Mark Waid, Mark Millar and Tom Peyer? The Superman notions seem almost identical, but Luthor is very different here than in that pitch, and so is Clark Kent. Did you use some aspects of your original pitch, or have you just changed his mind on how to portray these characters since?

Grant Morrison: A little of both. I wanted to approach All Star Superman as something new, but there were a couple of specific aspects from the Superman 2000 pitch (as I mentioned earlier, it was actually called Superman Now, at least in my notebooks, which is where the bulk of the material came from) that I felt were definitely worth keeping and exploring.

I can’t remember much about Luthor from Superman Now, except for the ending. By the time I got to All Star Superman, I’d developed a few new insights into Luthor’s character that seemed to flesh him out more. Luthor’s really human and charismatic and hateful all the same time. He’s the brilliant, deluded egotist in all of us. The key for me was the idea that he draws his eyebrows on. The weird vanity of that told me everything I needed to know about Luthor.

I thought the real key to him was the fact that, brilliant as he is, Luthor is nowhere near as brilliant as he wants to be or thinks he is. For Luthor, no praise, no success, no achievement is ever enough, because there’s a big hungry hole in his soul. His need for acknowledgement and validation is superhuman in scale. Superman needs no thanks; he does what he does because he’s made that way. Luthor constantly rails against his own sense of failure and inadequacy...and Superman’s to blame, of course.

I’ve recently been re–thinking Luthor again for a different project, and there’s always a new aspect of the character to unearth and develop.

NRAMA: This story makes Superman and Lois’ relationship seem much more romantic and epic than usual, but this one also makes Superman more of the pursuer. Lois seems like more of an equal, but also more wary of his affections, particularly in the black–and–white sequence in issue #2.

She becomes this great beacon of support for him over the course of the series, but there is a sense that she’s a bit jaded from years of trickery and uncomfortable with letting him in now that he’s being honest. How, overall, do you see the relationship between Superman and Lois?

GM: The black-and-white panels shows Lois paranoid and under the influence of an alien chemical, but yes, she’s articulating many of her very real concerns in that scene.

I wanted her to finally respond to all those years of being tricked and duped and led to believe Superman and Clark Kent were two different people. I wanted her to get her revenge by finally refusing to accept the truth.

It also exposed that brilliant central paradox in the Superman/Lois relationship. The perfect man who never tells a lie has to lie to the woman he loves to keep her safe. And he lives with that every day. It’s that little human kink that really drives their relationship.

NRAMA: Jimmy Olsen is extremely cool in this series – it’s the old “Mr. Action” idea taken to a new level. It’s often easy to write Jimmy as a victim or sycophant, but in this series, he comes off as someone worthy of being “Superman’s Pal” – he implicitly trusts Superman, and will take any risk to get his story. Do you see this version of Jimmy as sort of a natural evolution of the version often seen in the comics?

GM: It was a total rethink based on the aspects of Olsen I liked, and playing down the whole wet–behind–the–ears “cub reporter” thing. I borrowed a little from the “Mr. Action” idea of a more daredevil, pro–active Jimmy, added a little bit of Nathan Barley, some Abercrombie & Fitch style, a bit of Tintin, and a cool Quitely haircut.

Jimmy was renowned for his “disguises” and bizarre transformations (my favorite is the transvestite Olsen epic “Miss Jimmy Olsen” from Jimmy Olsen #95, which gets a nod on the first page of our Jimmy story we did), so I wanted to take that aspect of his appeal and make it part of his job.

I don’t like victim Jimmy or dumb Jimmy, because those takes on the character don’t make any sense in their context. It seemed more interesting see what a young man would be like who could convincingly be Superman’s “pal.” Someone whose company a Superman might actually enjoy. That meant making Jimmy a much bigger character: swaggering but ingenuous. Innocent yet worldly. Enthusiastic but not stupid.

My favorite Jimmy moment is in issue #7 when he comes up with the way to defeat the Bizarro invasion by using the seas of the Bizarro planet itself as giant mirrors to reflect toxic – to Bizarros – sunlight onto the night side of the Earth. He knows Superman can actually take crazy lateral thinking like this and put it into practice.

NRAMA: Perry White has a few small–but–key scenes, particularly his address to his staff in issue #1 and standing up to Luthor in issue #12. I’d like to hear more about your thoughts on this character.

GM: As with the others, my feelings are there on the page. Perry is Clark’s boss and need only be that and not much more to play his role perfectly well within the stories. He’s a good reminder that Superman has a job and a boss, unlike that good–for–nothing work-shy bastard Batman. Perry’s another of the series’ older male role models of integrity and steadfastness, like Pa Kent.

NRAMA: There’s a sense in the Daily Planet scenes and with Lois’s spotlight issues that everyone knows Clark is Superman, but they play along to humor him. The Clark disguise comes off as very obvious in this story. Do you feel that the Planet staff knows the truth, or are just in a very deep case of denial, like Lex?

GM: If I had to say for sure, I think Jimmy Olsen worked it out a long time ago, and simply presumes that if Superman has a good reason for what he’s doing, that’s good enough for Jimmy.

Lois has guessed, but refuses to acknowledge it because it exposes her darkest flaw – she could never love Clark Kent the way she loves Superman.

NRAMA: Also, the Planet staff seems awfully nonchalant at Luthor’s threats. Are they simply used to being attacked by now?

GM: Yes. They’re a tough group. They also know that Superman makes a point of looking out for them, so they naturally try to keep Luthor talking. They know he loves to talk about himself and about Superman. In that scene, he’s almost forgotten he even has powers, he’s so busy arguing and making points. He keeps doing ordinary things instead of extraordinary things.

NRAMA: The running gag of Clark subtly using his powers to protect unknowing people is well done, but I have to admit I was confused by the sequence near the end of issue #1. Was that an el–train, and if so, why was it so close to the ground?

GM: It’s a MagLev hover–train. Look again, and you’ll see it’s not supported by anything. Hover–trains help ease congestion in busy city streets! Metropolis is the City of Tomorrow, after all.

NRAMA: And there’s the death of Pa Kent. Why do you feel it’s particularly important to have Pa and not both of the Kents pass away?

GM: I imagined they had both passed away fairly early in Superman’s career, but Ma went a few years after Pa. Also, because the book was about men or man, it seemed important to stress the father/son relationships. That circle of life, the king is dead, long live the king thing that Superman is ultimately too big and too timeless to succumb to.

NRAMA: There is a real touch of Elliott S! Maggin’s novels in your depiction of Luthor – someone who is just so obsessive–compulsive about showing up Superman that he accomplishes nothing in his own life. He comes across as a showman, from his rehearsed speech in issue #1 to his garish costume in the last two issues, and it becomes painfully apparent that he wants to usurp Superman because he just can’t be happy with himself. What defeats him is actually a beautiful gift, getting to see the world as Superman does, and finally understanding his enemy.

That’s all a lead–in to: What previous stories that defined Luthor for you, and how did you define his character? What appeals to you about writing him?

GM: The Marks Waid and Millar were big fans of the Maggin books, and may have persuaded me to read at least the first one but I’m ashamed to say can’t remember anything about it, other than the vague recollection of a very humane, humanist take on Superman that seemed in general accord with the pacifist, hedonistic, between–the–wars spirit of the ‘90s when I read it. It was the ‘90s; I had other things on my mind and in my mind.

I like Maggin’s “Must There Be A Superman?” from Superman #247, which ultimately poses questions traditional superhero comic books are not equipped to answer and is one of the first paving stones in the Yellow Brick Road that leads to Watchmen and beyond, to The Authority, The Ultimates etc. Everyone still awake, still reading this, should make themselves familiar with “Must There Be A Superman?” – it’s a milestone in the development of the superhero concept.

However, the story that most defines Luthor for me turns out to be, as usual, a Len Wein piece with Curt Swan/Murphy Anderson– Superman #248. This blew me away when I was a kid. Lex Luthor cares about humanity? He’s sorry we all got blown up? The villain loves us too? It’s only Superman he really hates? Genius. Big, cool adult stuff.

The divine Len makes Lex almost too human, but it was amazing to see this kind of depth in a character I’d taken for granted as a music hall villain.

I also love the brutish Satanic, Crowley–esque, Golden Age Luthor in the brilliant “Powerstone” Action Comics #47 (the opening of All Star #11 is a shameless lift from “Powerstone”, as I soon realised when I went back to look. Blame my...er...photographic memory...cough).

And I like the Silver Age Luthor who only hates Superman because he thinks it’s Superboy’s fault he went bald. That was the most genuinely human motivation for Luthor’s career of villainy of all; it was Superman’s fault he went bald! I can get behind that.

In the Silver Age, baldness, like obesity, old age and poverty, was seen quite rightly as a crippling disease and a challenge which Superman and his supporting cast would be compelled to overcome at every opportunity! Suburban “50s America versus Communist degeneracy? You tell me.

I like elements of the Marv Wolfman/John Byrne ultra–cruel and rapacious businessman, although he somewhat lacks the human dimension (ultimately there’s something brilliant about Luthor being a failed inventor, a product of Smallville/Dullsville – the genius who went unnoticed in his lifetime, and resorted to death robots in chilly basements and cellars. Luthor as geek versus world). I thought Alan Moore’s ruthlessly self–assured “consultant” Luthor in Swamp Thing was an inspired take on the character as was Mark Waid’s rage–driven prodigy from Birthright.

I tried to fold them all into one portrayal. I see him as a very human character – Superman is us at our best, Luthor is us when we’re being mean, vindictive, petty, deluded and angry. Among other things. It’s like a bipolar manic/depressive personality – with optimistic, loving Superman smiling at one end of the scale and paranoid, petty Luthor cringing on the other.

I think any writer of Superman has to love these two enemies equally. We have to recognize them both as potentials within ourselves. I think it’s important to find yourself agreeing with Luthor a bit about Superman’s “smug superiority” – we all of us, except for Superman, know what it’s like to have mean–spirited thoughts like that about someone else’s happiness. It’s essential to find yourself rooting for Lex, at least a little bit, when he goes up against a man–god armed only with his bloody–minded arrogance and cleverness.

Even if you just wish you could just give him a hug and help him channel his energies in the right direction, Luthor speaks for something in all of us, I like to think.

However he’s played, Luthor is the male power fantasy gone wrong and turned sour. You’ve got everything you want but it’s not enough because someone has more, someone is better, someone is cleverer or more handsome.

 Newsarama: Grant, a recurring theme throughout the book is the effect of small kindness – how even the likes of Steve Lombard are capable of decency. And Superman gets the key to saving himself by doing something that any human being could do, offering sympathy to a person about to end it all.

Grant Morrison: Completely...the person you help today could be the person who saves your life tomorrow.

NRAMA: The character actions that make the biggest difference, from Zibarro’s sacrifice to Pa’s influence on Superman, are really things that any normal, non-powered person could do if they embrace the best part of their humanity. The last page of issue #12 teases the idea that Superman’s powers could be given to all mankind, but it seems as though the greatest gift he has given them is his humanity. How do you view Superman’s fate in the context of where humanity could go as a species?

GM: I see Superman in this series as an Enlightenment figure, a Renaissance idea of the ideal man, perfect in mind, body and intention.

A key text in all of this is Pico’s ‘Oration On The Dignity of Man’ (15c), generally regarded as the ‘manifesto’ of Renaissance thought, in which Giovanni Pico Della Mirandola laid out the fundamentals of what we tend to refer to as ’Humanist’ thinking.

(The ‘Oratorio’ also turns up in my British superhero series Zenith from 1987, which may indicate how long I’ve been working towards a Pico/Superman team-up!)

At its most basic, the ‘Oratorio’ is telling us that human beings have the unique ability, even the responsibility, to live up to their ‘ideals’. It would be unusual for a dog to aspire to be a horse, a bird to bark like a dog, or a horse to want to wear a diving suit and explore the Barrier Reef, but people have a particular gift for and inclination towards imitation, mimicry and self-transformation. We fly by watching birds and then making metal carriers that can outdo birds, we travel underwater by imitating fish, we constantly look to role models and behavioral templates for guidance, even when those role models are fictional TV or, comic, novel or movie heroes, just like the soft, quick, shapeshifty little things we are. We can alter the clothes we wear, the temperature around us, and change even our own bodies, in order to colonize or occupy previously hostile environments. We are, in short, a distinctively malleable and adaptable bunch.

So, Pico is saying, if we live by imitation, does it not make sense that we might choose to imitate the angels, the gods, the very highest form of being that we can imagine? Instead of indulging the most brutish, vicious, greedy and ignorant aspects of the human experience, we can, with a little applied effort, elevate the better part of our natures and work to express those elements through our behavior. To do so would probably make us all feel a whole lot better too. Doing good deeds and making other people happy makes you feel totally brilliant, let’s face it.

So we can choose to the astronaut or the gangster. The superhero or the super villain. The angel or the devil. It’s entirely up to us, particularly in the privileged West, how we choose to imagine ourselves and conduct our lives.

We live in the stories we tell ourselves. It’s really simple. We can continue to tell ourselves and our children that the species we belong to is a crawling, diseased, viral cancer smear, only fit for extinction, and let’s see where that leads us.

We can continue to project our self-loathing and narcissistic terror of personal mortality onto our culture, our civilization, our planet, until we wreck the promise of the world for future generations in a fit of sheer self-induced panic...

...or we can own up to the scientific fact that we are all physically connected as parts of a single giant organism, imagine better ways to live and grow...and then put them into practice. We can stop pissing about, start building starships, and get on with the business of being adults.

The ’Oratorio’ is nothing less than the Shazam!, the Kimota! for Western Culture and we would do well to remember it in our currently trying times.

The key theme of the ‘Dark Age’ of comics was loss and recovery of wonder - McGregor’s Killraven trawling through the apocalyptic wreckage of culture in his search for poetry, meaning and fellowship, Captain Mantra, amnesiac in Robert Mayer’s Superfolks, Alan Moore’s Mike Maxwell trudging through the black and white streets of Thatcher’s Britain, with the magic word of transformation burning on the tip of his tongue.

My own work has been an ongoing attempt to repeat the magic word over and over until we all become the kind of superheroes we’d all like to be. Ha hah ha.

 Newsarama: The structure of the 12 issues involves both Superman’s 12 labors and his impending death. Do you feel the threat of his demise brings out the best in Superman’s already–high character, or did you intend it more as a window for the audience to understand how he sees the world?

Grant Morrison: In trying to do the “big,” ultimate Superman story, we wanted to hit on all the major beats that define the character – the “death of Superman” story has been told again and again and had to be incorporated into any definitive take. Superman’s death and rebirth fit the sun god myth we were establishing, and, as you say, it added a very terminal ticking clock to the story.

NRAMA: When we talked earlier this year, we discussed the neurotic quality of the Silver Age stories. Looking at the series as a whole, you consistently invert this formula. Superman is faced with all these crises that could be seen as personifying his neuroses, but for the most part he handles them with a level head and comes across as being very at peace with himself. You talked about your discussion with an in–character Superman fan at a convention years ago, but I am curious as to how you determined Superman’s mindset.

GM: I felt we had to live up to the big ideas behind Superman. I don’t take my daft job lightly. It’s all I’ve got.

As the project got going, I wasn’t thinking about Silver Ages or Dark Ages or anything about the comics I’d read, so much as the big shared idea of “Superman” and that “S” logo I see on T–shirts everywhere I go, on girls and boys. That communal Superman. I wanted us to get the precise energy of Platonic Superman down on the page.

The “S” hieroglyph, the super–sigil, stands for the very best kind of man we can imagine, so the subject dictated the methodical, perfectionist approach. As I’ve mentioned before, I keep this aspect of my job fresh for myself by changing my writing style to suit the project, the character or the artist.

With something like Batman R.I.P., I’m aiming for a frenzied Goth Pulp-Noir; punk-psych, expressionist shadows and jagged nightmare scene shifts, inspired by Batman’s roots and by the snapping, fluttering of his uncanny cape. Final Crisis was written, with the Norse Ragnarok and Biblical Revelations in mind, as a story about events more than characters. A doom-laden, Death Metal myth for the wonderful world of Fina(ncia)l Crisis/Eco-breakdown/Terror Trauma we all have to live in.

The subject matter drives the execution. And then, of course, the artists add their own vision and nuance. With All Star Superman, “Frank” and I were able to spend a lot of time together talking it through, and we agreed it had to be about grids, structure, storybook panel layouts, an elegance of form, a clarity of delivery. “Classical” in every sense of the word. The medium, the message, the story, the character, all working together as one simple equation.

Frank Quitely, a Glasgow Art School boy, completely understood without much explanation, the deep structural underpinnings of the series and how to embody them in his layouts. There’s a scene in issue # 8, set on the Bizarro world, where we see Le Roj handing Superman his rocket plans. Look at the arrangement of the figures of Zibarro, Le Roj, Superman and Bizaro–Superman and you’ll see one attempt to make us of Renaissance compositions.

The sense of sunlit Zen calm we tried to get into All Star is how I imagine it might feel to think the way Superman thinks all the time - a thought process that is direct, clean, precise, mathematical, ordered. A mind capable of fantastical imagination but grounded in the everyday of his farm upbringing with nice decent folks. Rich with humour and tears and deep human significance, yet tuned to a higher key. We tried to hum along for a little while, that’s all.

In honor of the character’s primal position in the development of the superhero narrative, I hoped we could create an “ultimate” hero story, starring the ultimate superhero.

Basically, I suppose I felt Superman deserved the utmost application of our craft and intelligence in order to truly do him justice.

Otherwise, I couldn’t have written this book if I hadn’t watched my big, brilliant dad decline into incoherence and death. I couldn’t have written it if I’d never had my heart broken, or mended. I couldn’t have written it if I hadn’t known what it felt like to be idolized, misunderstood, hated for no clear reason, loved for all my faults, forgotten, remembered...

Writing All Star Superman was, in retrospect, also a way of keeping my mind in the clean sunshine while plumbing the murkiest depths of the imagination with that old pair of c****s Darkseid and Doctor Hurt. Good riddance.

 Newsarama: This is touched on in other questions, but how much of the Silver/Bronze Age backstory matters here? What do you see as Superman's life prior to All-Star Superman? (What was going on with this Superman while the Byrne revamp took hold?)

Grant Morrison: When I introduced the series in an interview online, I suggested that All Star Superman could be read as the adventures of the ‘original’ Pre-Crisis on Infinite Earths Superman, returning after 20 plus years of adventures we never got to see because we were watching John Byrne‘s New Superman on the other channel. If ‘Whatever Happened To The Man of Tomorrow?’ and the Byrne reboot had never happened, where would that guy be now?

This was more to provide a sense, probably limited and ill-considered, of what the tone of the book might be like. I never intended All Star Superman as a direct continuation of the Weisinger or Julius Schwartz-era Superman stories. The idea was always to create another new version of Superman using all my favorite elements of past stories, not something ‘Age’ specific.

I didn’t collect Superman comics until the ‘70s and I’m not interested enough in pastiche or nostalgia to spend 6 years of my life playing post-modern games with Superman. All Star isn’t written, drawn or colored to look or read like a Silver Age comic book.

All Star Superman is not intended as arch commentary on continuity or how trends in storytelling have changed over the decades. It’s not retro or meta or anything other than its own simple self; a piece of drawing and writing that is intended by its makers to capture the spirit of its subject to the best of their capabilities, wisdom and talent.

Which is to say, we wanted our Superman story be about life, not about comics or superheroes, current events or politics. It’s about how it feels, specifically to be a man...in our dreams! Hopefully that means our 12 issues are also capable of wide interpretation.

So as much as we may have used a few recognizable Silver Age elements like Van-Zee and Sylv(i)a and the Bottle City of Kandor, the ensemble Daily Planet cast embodies all the generations of Superman. Perry White is from 1940, Steve Lombard is from the Schwartz-era ‘70s, Ron Troupe - the only black man in Metropolis - appeared in 1991. Cat Grant is from 1987 and so on.

P.R.O.J.E.C.T. refers back to Jack Kirby’s DNA Project from his ‘70s Jimmy Olsen stories, as well as to The Cadmus Project from ’90s Superboy and Superman stories. Doomsday is ‘90s. Kal Kent, Solaris and the Infant Universe of Qwewq all come from my own work on Superman in the same decade. Pa Kent’s heart attack is from ‘Superman the Movie‘. We didn’t use Brainiac because he’d been the big bad in Earth 2 but if we had, we’d have used Brainiac’s Kryptonian origin from the animated series and so on.

I also used quite a few elements of John Byrne’s approach. Byrne made a lot of good decisions when he rebooted the whole franchise in 1986 and I wanted to incorporate as much as I could of those too.

Our Superman in All Star was never Superboy, for instance. All Star Superman landed on Earth as a normal, if slightly stronger and fitter infant, and only began to manifest powers in adolescence when he’d finally soaked up enough yellow solar radiation to trigger his metamorphosis.

The Byrne logic seemed to me a better way to explain how his powers had developed across the decades, from the skyscraper leaps of the early days to the speed-of-light space flight of the high Silver Age. And more importantly, it made the Superman myth more poignant - the story of a farm boy who turned into an alien as he reached adolescence. I felt that was something that really enriched Superman. He grew away from his home, his family, his adopted species as he became Superman. His teenage years are a record of his transformation from normal boy to super-being.

As you say, there are more than just Silver Age influences in the book. Basically we tried to create a perfect synthesis of every Superman era. So much so, that it should just be taken as representative of an ‘age’ all its own.

In the end, however, I do think that the Silver Age type stories, with their focus on human problems and foibles, have a much wider appeal than a lot of the work which followed. They’re more like fables or folk tales than the later ‘comic book superhero’ stories of Superman when he became just another colorful costume in the crowd...and perhaps that’s why All Star seemed to resemble those books more than it does a typical modern Marvel or DC comic. It was our intention to present a more universal, mainstream Superman.

NRAMA: In your depiction of Krypton and the Kryptonians, you show the complexity of Superman’s relationship between humanity and Earth even further. Krypton has that scientific paradise quality to it, but the Kryptonians are also portrayed as slightly aloof and detached, even Jor-El. But from Bar-El to the people of Kandor, they’re touched by Superman’s goodness. What do you see as the fundamental difference between Kryptonians and Earthlings, and how has Superman’s character been shaped by each?

GM: My version of Krypton was, again, synthesized from a number of different approaches over the decades. 
In mythic terms, if Superman is the story of a young king, found and raised by common people, then Krypton is the far distant kingdom he lost. It’s the secret bloodline, the aristocratic heritage that makes him special, and a hero. At the same time, Krypton is something that must be left behind for Superman to become who he is - i.e. one of us. Krypton gives him his scientific clarity of mind, Earth makes his heart blaze.

I liked the very early Jerry Siegel descriptions where Krypton is a planet of advanced supermen and women (I already played with that a little in Marvel Boy where Noh-Varr was written to be the Marvel Superboy basically). To that, I added the rich, science fiction detailing of the Silver Age Krypton stories and the slightly detached coolness that characterized John Byrne’s Krypton, which I re-interpreted through the lens of Dzogchen Buddhist thought, probably the most pragmatic, chilly and rational philosophic system on the planet and the closest, I felt, to how Kryptonians might see things.

We also took some time to redesign the crazy, multicolored Kryptonian flag (you can see our version in Kandor in issue #10). The flag, as originally imagined, seemed like the last thing Kryptonians would endorse, so we took the multicolored-rays-around-a-circle design and recreated it - the central circle is now red, representing Krypton’s star, Rao, while the rays, rather than arbitrary colors, become representations of the spectrum of visible light pouring from Rao into the inky black of space. In this way, the flag, that bizarre emblem of nationalism becomes a scientific hieroglyph.

Showing Krypton and Kryptonians was also important as a way of stressing why Superman wears that costume and why it makes absolute sense that he looks the way he does. I don’t see the red and blue suit as a flag or as rewoven baby blankets. There’s no need for Superman to dress the way he does but it made sense to think of his outfit as his ‘national costume‘.

The way I see it, the standard superhero outfit, the familiar Superman suit with the pants on the outside, is what everyone wore on Krypton, give or take a few fashion accessories like hoods and headbands, chest crests and variant colors. In fact, all other superheroes are just copying the fashions on Krypton, lost planet of the super-people.

Superman wears his ’action-suit’ the way a patriotic Scotsman would wear a kilt. It’s a sign of his pride in his alien heritage.

 Newsarama: Although All–Star Superman ties in with DC One Million, you style of writing has changed dramatically since then.  How do you feel about One Million now?

Grant Morrison: I just read it again and liked it a lot. Comics were definitely happier, breezier and more confident in their own strengths before Hollywood and the Internet turned the business of writing superhero stories into the production of low budget storyboards or, worse, into conformist, fruitless attempts to impress or entertain a small group of people who appear to hate comics and their creators.

NRAMA: Obviously, this book is the most explicit SF–Christ story since Behold the Man, only...happy.  Superman/Christ parallels have existed for decades, but this story makes it absolutely explicit, from laying his hands on the sick and dying to...well, most of issue #12.  You’ve dealt with Christ themes before, particularly in The Mystery Play, but outside of the comics, how do you see Superman as a Christ figure for the “real” world?

GM: The “Superman as Christ” thing is a little too reductive for me, and tends to overlook the fact that Superman is by no means a pacifist in the Christ sense. Superman would never turn the other cheek; Superman punches out the bully. Superman is a fighter.

When did Christ ever batter the Devil through a mountain?

The thing I disliked about the Superman Returns movie was the American Christ angle, which reduced Superman to a sniveling, masochistic wreck, crawling around on the floor, taking a kicking from everyone. This approach had an odd and slightly disturbing S&M flavor, which didn’t play well to the character’s strengths at all and seemed to derive entirely from a kind of Catholic vision of the suffering, martyred Jesus.

It’s not that he’s based on Jesus, but simply that a lot of the mythical sun god elements that have been layered onto the Christ story also appear in the story of Superman. I suppose I see Superman more as pagan sci–fi. He’s a secular messiah, a science redeemer with tough guy muscles and a very direct and clear morality.

NRAMA: Continuing the religious themes, in issue #10, you have Superman literally giving birth to himself, both philosophically and as a character – a nice little meta–moment showing how Superman inspires a world where he is only fiction.  How did that idea come about?

GM: It came from the challenge we’d set ourselves: as I said, issue #10 had been left as a blank space into which the single most coherent condensation of all our ideas about Superman were destined to fit.

I wanted to do a “day in the life” story. So much of All Star had been about this threat to Superman himself, so we wanted to show him going about a typical day saving people and doing good.

Then came the title “Neverending,” which comes from the opening announcement – “Faster than a speeding bullet!...” of the Superman radio show from 1940, and seemed to me to be as good a title for a Superman story as any I could think of. It seemed to distil everything about Superman’s battle and his legend into a single word. And the story structure itself was designed to loop endlessly, so it went well with that.

 On top of that went the idea of the Last Will and Testament of Superman. A dying god writing his will seemed like an interesting structure to use. Then came the idea to fit all of human history into that single 24 hours. And then to show the development of the Superman idea through human culture from the earliest Australian Aboriginal notions of super–beings ‘descended” from the sky, through the complex philosophical system of Hinduism, onto the Renaissance concept of the ideal man, via the refinements of Nietzche and finally, down to that smiling, hopeful Joe Shuster sketch; the final embodiment of humanity’s glorious, uplifting notion of the superman become reduced to a drawing, a story for kids, a worthless comic book.

And also what that could mean in a holographic fractal universe, where the smallest part contains and reflects the whole.

Of course the next panel in that sequence is happening in the real world and would show you, the reader, sitting with the latest Superman issue in your hands, deep within the Infant Universe of Qwewq in the Fortress of Solitude, today, wherever you are. In “Neverending,” the reader becomes wrapped in a self–referential loop of story and reality. If you actually, seriously think about what is happening at this point in the story, if you meditate upon the curious entanglement of the real and the fictional, you will become enlightened in this life apparently. According to some texts.

NRAMA: On a personal level, you’ve explored all types of religions and philosophies in your work.  What is your take on religion and how it influences humanity, and the Christian take on Jesus Christ in particular?

GM: I think religion per se, is a ghastly blight on the progress of the human species towards the stars.  At the same time, it, or something like it, has been an undeniable source of comfort, meaning and hope for the majority of poor bastards who have ever lived on Earth, so I’m not trying to write it off completely. I just wish that more people were educated to a standard where they could understand what religion is and how it works. Yes, it got us through the night for a while, but ultimately, it’s one of those ugly, stupid arse–over–backwards things we could probably do without now, here on the Planet of the Apes.

Religion is to spirituality what porn is to sex. It’s what the Hollywood 3–act story template is to real creative writing.

Religion creates a structure which places “special,” privileged people (priests) between ordinary people and the divine, as if there could even be any separation: as if every moment, every thought, every action was not already an expression of dynamic ‘divinity” at work.

As I’ve said before, the solid world is just the part of heaven we’re privileged to touch and play with. You don’t need a priest or a holy man to talk to “god” on your behalf: just close your eyes and say hello. “God” is no more, no less, than the sum total of all matter, all energy, all consciousness, as experienced or conceptualized from a timeless perspective where everything ever seems to present all at once. “God” is in everything, all the time and can be found there by looking carefully. The entire universe, including the scary, evil bits, is a thought “God” is thinking, right now.

As far as I can figure it out from my own reading and my own experience of how the spiritual world works, Jesus was, as they say, way cool: a man who achieved a state of consciousness, which nowadays would get him a diagnosis of temporal lobe epilepsy (in the days of the Emperor Tiberius, he was crucified for his ideas, today he’d be laughed at, mocked or medicated).

This “holistic” mode of consciousness (which Luthor experiences briefly at the end of All Star Superman) announces itself as a heartbreaking connection, a oneness, with everything that exists...but you don’t have to be Superman to know what that feeling is like. There are a ton of meditation techniques which can take you to this place. I don’t see it as anything supernatural or religious, in fact, I think it’s nothing more than a developmental level of human consciousness, like the ability to see perspective – which children of 4 cannot do but children of 6 can.

Everyone who’s familiar with this upgrade will tell you the same thing: it feels as if “alien” or “angelic” voices – far more intelligent, coherent and kindly than the voices you normally hear in your head – are explaining the structure of time and space and your place in it. 
This identification with a timeless supermind containing and resolving within itself all possible thoughts and contradictions, is what many people, unsurprisingly, mistake for an encounter with “God.”  However, given that this totality must logically include and resolve all possible thoughts and concepts, it can also be interpreted as an actual encounter with God, so I’m not here to give anyone a hard time over interpretation.

Some people have the experience and believe the God of their particular culture has chosen them personally to have a chat with. These people may become born–again Christians, fundamentalist Muslims, devotees of Shiva, or misunderstood lunatics. Some “contactees” interpret the voices they hear erroneously as communications from an otherworldly, alien intelligence, hence the proliferation of “abduction” accounts in recent decades, which share most of their basic details with similar accounts, from earlier centuries, of people being taken away by “fairies” or “little people”.

Some, who like to describe themselves as magicians, will recognize the “alien” voice as the “Holy Guardian Angel”.

In timeless, spaceless consciousness, the singular human mind blurs into a direct experience of the totality of all consciousness that has ever been or will ever be. It feels like talking with God but I see that as an aspect of science, not religion.

As Peter Barnes wrote in “The Ruling Class”, “I know I must be God because when I pray to Him, I find I’m talking to myself.”

 Newsarama: When we spoke earlier this year, you talked about some of your ideas for future All Star stories. Are you moving forward on those, or have you started working on different ideas since then?

Grant Morrison: I haven’t had time to think about them for a while. I did have the stories worked out, and I’d like to do more, but right now it feels like Frank and Jamie and I have said all there is to be said. I don’t know if I’m ready to do All Star Superman with anyone else right now. I have other plans.

NRAMA: You end the book with Superman having uplifted humanity – having inspired them through his sacrifice and great deeds, and with the potential to pass his powers on to humanity still there. Do you plan to explore this concept further, or would you prefer to leave it open–ended?

GM: I may go back to the Son of Superman in some way. At the same time, it’s best left open–ended. I like the idea that Superman gets to have his cake and eat it; he becomes golden and mythical and lives forever as a dream. Yet, he also is able to sire a child who will carry his legacy into the future. He kicks ass in both the spiritual and the temporal spheres!

 NRAMA: The notion of transcendence – always a big part of your work. But the debate about All Star Superman is whether or not it "transcends its genre." Superman becomes transcendent within the series itself, and inspires the beings on Qwewq, but does the work aspire to more than that? Is it simply the greatest version of a Superman story, and that’s enough?

GM: That would certainly be enough if it were true.

It’s a pretty high–level attempt by some smart people to do the Superman concept some justice, is all I can say. It’s intended to work as a set of sci–fi fables that can be read by children and adults alike. I’d like to think you can go to it if you’re feeling suicidal, if you miss your dad, if you’ve had to take care of a difficult, ailing relative, if you’ve ever lost control and needed a good friend to put you straight, if you love your pets, if you wish your partner could see the real you...All Star is about how Superman deals with all of that.

It’s a big old Paul Bunyan style mythologizing of human - and in particular male - experience. In that sense I’d like to think All Star Superman does transcend genre in that it’s intended to be read on its own terms and needs absolutely no understanding of genre conventions or history around it to grasp what’s going on.

In today’s world, in today’s media climate designed to foster the fear our leaders like us to feel because it makes us easier to push around. In a world where limp, wimpy men are forced to talk tough and act ‘badass’ even though we all know they’re shitting it inside. In a world where the measure of our moral strength has come to lie in the extremity of the images we’re able to look at and stomach. In a world, I’m reliably told, that’s going to the dogs, the real mischief, the real punk rock rebellion, is a snarling, ‘fuck you’ positivity and optimism. Violent optimism in the face of all evidence to the contrary is the Alpha form of outrage these days. It really freaks people out.

I have a desire not to see my culture and my fellow human beings fall helplessly into step with a middle class media narrative that promises only planetary catastrophe, as engineered by an intrinsically evil and corrupt species which, in fact, deserves everything it gets.

Is this relentless, downbeat insistence that the future has been cancelled really the best we can come up with? Are we so fucked up we get off on terrifying our children? It’s not funny or ironic anymore and that’s why we wrote All Star Superman the way we did. Everything has changed. ‘Dark’ entertainment now looks like hysterical, adolescent, ‘Zibarro’ crap. That’s what my Final Crisis series is about too.

NRAMA (aka Tim Callahan): Continuing with the theme of transcendence: The words "ineffectual" and "surrender" are repeated throughout the book. Discuss.

GM: Discuss yourself, Callahan! I know you have the facilities and I should think it’s all rather obvious. 


NRAMA: What was the inspiration for the image of Superman in the sun at the end? (I confess this question comes as the result of much unsuccessful Googling)

GM: I didn’t have any specific reference in mind - just that one we‘ve all sort of got in our heads. I drew the figure as a sketch, intended to be reminiscent of William Blake’s cosmic figures, Russian Constructivist Soviet Socialist Worker type posters, and Leonardo’s ‘Proportions of the Human Figure‘. The position of the legs hints at the Buddhist swastika, the clockwise sun symbol. It was to me, the essence of that working class superheroic ideal I mentioned, condensed into a final image of mythic Superman, - our eternal, internal, guiding, selfless, tireless, loving superstar. The daft All Star Superman title of the comic is literalized in this last picture. It’s the ‘fearful symmetry’ of the Enlightenment project - an image of genius, toil, and our need to make things, to fashion art and artifacts, as a form of superhuman, divine imitation.

It was Superman as this fusion of Renaissance/Enlightenment ideas about Man and Cosmos, an impossible union of Blake and Newton. A Pop Art ‘Vitruvian Man‘. The inspiration for the first letter of the new future alphabet!

As you can see, we spent a lot of time thinking about all this and purifying it down to our own version of the gold. I’m glad it’s over.

NRAMA: Finally: What, above all else, would you like people to take away from All Star Superman?

GM: That we spent a lot of time thinking about this!

No. What I hope is that people take from it the unlikelihood that a piece of paper, with little ink drawings of figures, with little written words, can make you cry, can make your heart soar, can make you scared, sad, or thrilled. How mental is that?

That piece of paper is inert material, the corpse of some tree, pulped and poured, then given new meaning and new life when the real hours and real emotions that the writer and the artist, the colorist, the letter the editor translated onto the physical page, meet with the real hours and emotions of a reader, of all readers at once, across time, generations and distance.

And think about how that experience, the simple experience of interacting with a paper comic book, along with hundreds of thousands of others across time and space, is an actual doorway onto the beating heart of the imminent, timeless world of “Myth” as defined above. Not just a drawing of it but an actual doorway into timelessness and the immortal world where we are all one together.

My grief over the loss of my dad can be Superman’s grief, can trigger your own grief, for your own dad, for all our dads. The timeless grief that’s felt by Muslims and Christians and Agnostics alike. My personal moments of great and romantic love, untainted by the everyday, can become Superman’s and may resonate with your own experience of these simple human feelings.

In the one Mythic moment we’re all united, kissing our Lover for the First time, the Last time, the Only time, honoring our dear Dad under a blood red sky, against a darkening backdrop, with Mum telling us it’ll all be okay in the end.

If we were able to capture even a hint of that place and share it with our readers, that would be good enough for me.

[iworshipkeanureeves]

Anniversary Picnic (Keanu Reeves x Reader)

Summary: You and your husband Keanu share a romantic anniversary picnic.

Warnings: mostly fluff, but it gets a little smutty towards the end, also conversation about having a kid (not sure if this should be a warning though).

Words: 1,7 K

A/N: This was definitely inspired by Destination Wedding, though Frank seemed too grumpy for this and I decided to go with Keanu instead. Also, for everyone quarantined right now, have fun on this imaginary picnic.

“Here we are,” Keanu exclaims cheerfully, parking his car on a hill in a middle of nowhere. Today, it is your wedding anniversary, and every year he has a little surprise for you. It is something that you really appreciate, because instead of buying random expensive gifts, he always takes his time to organize something fun.

You are a little puzzled viewing around, “Is this your surprise? Are you going to murder me here and feed my body to the mountain lions?” you giggle, seeing only empty fields, which actually remind you of a deserted vineyard.

“Common, let’s go, you’ll enjoy this,” Keanu urges as he leans in to kiss you, but you are quite hesitant at first; fortunately, he is quick to take a picnic basket out of the trunk, and food is definitely an incentive to get out of the car.

“Be careful,” Keanu takes your hand as you are walking down the hill, he is leading the way and you have no choice, but to follow him. Luckily, you are wearing a linen apron dress together with comfortable flats, which turns out to be an appropriate outfit for your unexpected romantic hike. The sun is blazing and the only thing you regret not taking is a pair of sunglasses, as it is getting harder to see the path, so you keep stumbling on roots that are sticking out of the ground.

Keanu notices that you’re struggling, he slows down a little and turns around handing you a picnic basket. You are a little confused grasping it, when suddenly, you  feel one of his arms by the back of your knees, another giving support to your shoulders and, just like that, you are up in the air. Keanu is squeezing you tightly, giving you a playful smirk, and then kissing your temple.

“Ke, slow down, I don’t think this is a good idea, we’re both going to roll down this hill,” you chuckle smacking Keanu’s chest, but he seems to be persistent with this idea of his.

“Don’t worry, honey, we’re almost there,” he nods insistently, and you submit, comfortably positioning the basket on top of your stomach.

You close your eyes to rest them a little, enjoying soothing rocking created by his rhythmical steps and the feeling of mellow warmth lingering on your cheeks, causing you to slowly drift away in his embrace. Time has disappeared in your mind, and at this point you can’t tell if it has been a minute or ten of Keanu carrying you, but eventually, he gives your forehead a wake-up kiss and you open your eyes to see him admiring you.

Keanu gently lays you down on a blanket, which surprisingly has already been stretched on the grass, taking the basket off your belly, and you look around in awe, realizing that everything has been prepared beforehand. It is a cozy place on a bank of a river, and you feel yourself sinking into soft pillows, having your face sheltered in a shade of a tree, savoring a delightful breeze brushing your cheeks.

Keanu slowly crawls on top of you, kissing your lips affectionately, “Y/N,” he looks at you, “I love you so much, you can’t even imagine,” his palm is gently stroking your shoulder, as he leans in to kiss you again.

“I love you too, Ke,” you whisper, pulling closer to squeeze him tightly, leaving his face buried deep in your chest. Happiness is filling your veins as you feel his breath tickling your skin, his hands wrapping around your waist, and the woodsy smell of his hair teasing your nose.

“So, what’s on the menu?” you chuckle, and Keanu turns over reaching for the picnic basket, presenting every dish as if he was an actual chef taking pride in his creations.

“For starters, you can choose between tortilla chips with scallion dip and apricot-prosciutto focaccia” he grins, “Then, I can offer crab rolls together with Greek salad, and for the dessert, pecan pie, your favorite of course”, you both can’t contain your laughter and you approach a packet of chips as he is taking out cups to pour some lemonade.

“How did you arrange all of this to be prepared in advance, the pillows and everything?” you wonder as you keep on dipping chips, looking around in awe.

Keanu giggles, “A magician never reveals his secrets, honey,” and he reaches to hug your sidewards, nuzzling your ear.

“No, but seriously, Ke?” you insist, sipping your drink.

“Okay, okay… I had a movie set here last summer and people living on the other side of the hill, whom I’ve made friends with, were nice to help me with this, that’s my secret,” he tumbles you down, attacking the crook of your neck with ticklish kisses. You try to escape him, but that is a lost cause, so you just give in.

“Happy anniversary,” you tilt your head to smooch him, brushing his stubble with your fingers.

“Every day is happy, when I’m with you,” Keanu smirks, realizing how cheesy that was.

After romping like two naughty little kids for a while, you calm down a little. You nestle on top of Keanu’s chest, staring into the flow of the river. He is stroking your locks, twirling them in his fingers, while another of his palm is slowly reaching to reside on your breast, fondling it lazily, slipping in and out of your bra.

At this point, you start to realize that he keeps on gasping, as if he wants to say something, but can’t force himself to. Crazy thoughts are running through your head, though you are pretty sure he wouldn’t have brought you here on your anniversary to announce bad news, and something like proposing is also out of picture since you have been married for six years, so you keep on wondering what it is.

Eventually, Keanu slowly sits up and turns to you breaking the silence, “How is it possible that you’ve never been on a picnic before?” He leans closer stroking your half covered thigh, slowly going up and down, making you shiver every time he reaches a little higher than before.

“I guess I’ve just never had anyone to go with,” you gush, feeling his fingers tickling you in the right places, giving him a sign, to keep on working his magic.  

“Not even with your family?” he frowns, “Like when you were a kid?”

“Well we weren’t this kind of family that would go on picnics, you know, only compulsory events like Christmas, Easter, Thanksgiving…” you sigh shaking your head, rising to rest on your elbows and Keanu gives a compassionate smile.

“Then let’s see how you like it today and maybe we can make this a thing our family could do,” Keanu stalls his hand, letting it rest on your knee and stares into your eyes, waiting for you to respond.

Now, Keanu’s behavior is beginning to make sense and you can feel where this is going. Realizing what has been bothering your man, you try to help him a little by opening a conversation that you are about to have, “You mean just the two of us or…,” intentionally leaving it for him to add in.

“The more the merrier, they say,” Keanu chuckles, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, caressing your cheek amorously.

The last time you talked about having kids was three years ago, when you decided that it wasn’t the right time, and both of you wanted to wait a little longer. Now, the timing seems perfect, as he is about to finish his project, and you have a well-established career, which is possible to put on hold.

You sit up silently gathering your thoughts, making a longer pause and Keanu anxiously stutters, “Honey?” as he is nervously grabbing your shoulder, “I’m so sorry, I’m not pushing if you’re not ready.”

“Ke, relax, I really want to,” you come closer to wrap yourself around him. Your lips are brushing his ear, “I think we should start trying, it’s about time.”

Keanu looks astonished, yet thrilled, and he may have taken your words too literally, as you begin to feel his hand sinking under your dress, worrying he might want to knock you up right here, on this blanket near the river.

“What are you doing, Ke?” a squeak leaves your throat, as you feel his fingers pulling your underwear to the side, spreading your folds with eagerness. You try to pull yourself together, to tell him no. After all, this is sort of a public place, you’ve seen a few people wandering around and the last thing you need, are paparazzi shots of you sharing intimate moments turning up on TMZ. But why is this so hard to resist…?

“Oh honey, you’re all soaked”, Keanu grabs your hip and pulls you closer. His fingers rubbing circles, spreading wetness all over your heat, and his lips buried in the crook of your neck, leaving a trail of sizzling kisses.

Involuntarily, you haul him even closer, feeling your folds plumping and throbbing with all the blood rushing down there. You know this is so wrong, and you do your best trying to talk some sense into him “Ke, this is too risky, anyone could see us,” you groan, “I don’t even think that’s legal, baby,” moans leave your mouth as you keep fighting yourself, but he is spreading you so well, and your hand gradually wanders to meet his growing bulge, pulsating in his pants.

“I’m pretty sure we’ve done worse things,” Keanu glares, teasing your entrance with his middle finger, yet not sure if he is allowed to go in.

Luckily, you get your act together, stopping his hand, “Yeah, but if we’re going to have a baby, we have to be responsible adults. We can start practicing now,” you smirk, pulling your dress down and crossing your legs.

It appears to have woken Keanu’s enthusiasm even more and he pulls your hair to the side, nuzzling your ear, “Then I’m responsibly taking you home, so that we can finish what we’ve started.”

“A car will do just fine,” you reply with a wink, stretching your hand for him to help you up.

---> After the Picnic (smut)

[johnwickb1tsch]

Vino Veritas

A Destination Wedding Frank x Fem!Reader Fic

Attending the wedding of your ex-fiancé gets slightly better when you meet someone having just as miserable a time as you... Warnings: Nothing too serious holy shit. Cursing. Broken engagement. Nihilism, existential bullshit, copious amounts of sarcasm. Eventual nsfw, not this chapter. Angst. Grump/sunshine trope. Loosely based on the movie but I'm not that smart. Or bitter. chapter map.

The Gate to Hell

You’re not sure what it is about airports, that somehow makes them feel like a special little extension of the circles of Hell. Or maybe purgatory, is more the like. All you do there is wait, and wait and wait, praying that soon it will be time to move on.

It probably doesn’t help that you’re absolutely fucking dreading your destination ahead.

Frankly, it will be a miracle if you survive this weekend with your sanity intact.

And then, there’s this dude behind you. You keep seeing him out of the corner of your eye. He just keeps pacing back and forth, rolling his stupid bag with him, and you just want to whirl and tell him to be still or sit the fuck down.

Instead, he comes to stand next to you.

You give him a glance. And then, you’ll admit, a double take, because he is stupidly handsome, even while frowning, staring churlishly at the flight monitor as though it had personally insulted him. And, to add insult to injury, he is tall. And well dressed in jeans and a button down and a nice sports jacket. And you inwardly sigh for some indefinable reason that has to do with longing and your acceptance that the universe does not bestow such gifts upon you for free.

“Nice dress.”

You blink, not having expected him to speak to you.

“Thanks.” It’s a 50’s style robin’s egg blue halter swing dress, your favorite color. You needed some bright color therapy, to face the hell you’re about to be stepping into.

“Is there a sock hop in San Luis Obispo I’m missing?”

You guess with your cat-eye Dolce and Gabbana sunglasses, you do look rather on brand.

From his sardonic tone you’re not sure if he’s making fun of you. “All the cool kids are going.”

You kind of deliver it like a dig, and you see the corners of his mouth twitch. “Ah. That explains everything.”

You look him over. He…really is ridiculously handsome, if you’re being honest. High cheekbones. Trimmed beard. Piercing eyes. Casually well dressed. A bit older than you, not that that’s ever stopped you.

“I hope our flight’s on time.”

You check your phone app for the airline. “Supposed to be.”

“Let me guess. You’ve got an app for that?” The way he says it, just this side of snide, like you fucking millennials—it kind of pisses you off. And maybe you’re overly sensitive to patronizing comments from older men, but with your history you have a right to be.

“Do you have a problem with me?”

He stands up a little straighter. “What?”

“Like what’s your deal? I was just standing here minding my own business, while you’re creeping around behind me—”

“I was not creeping. I was trying to see the board.” He gestures at the display screen by the gate.

You look him up and down. That’s a tall drink of water, if you’re being honest. “Because Mr. six foot six over here can’t see over my head—”

“I’m only 6’1”—”

“Okay, 6’2” in your shoes, and then you come up here, give me a backhanded compliment, and make fun of me for having the means to keep track of what’s going on with our plane?” You glare at him. “Holy shit, are you trying to neg me?”

“I don’t…even know what that means.”

“Ok, boomer.”

“I am not a boomer.”

“Whatever.”

Then he has the gall to step away—in front of you.

“Seriously?”

“What?”

“You’re going to butt ahead in line too?”

“On a flight that holds eight people?”

“Wow. Ok, be my guest.” You wave him on, and he rolls his eyes. Then you have to stand there, and look at his stupidly broad shoulders in that nice sports jacket, and his dark softy waving hair that just brushes his collar…you’re not going to look at his butt.

You’re not.

Your eyes slide down.

Fuck, but that’s a nice caboose.

The Fight Or Flight Response

As you sit in your backseat of the plane, there is one seat left beside you, and when you see who boards last you want to throw yourself down the stairs before they close the door.

“Anyone want to trade seats?” he asks, bent over practically in half, he’s so tall and the plane is so small.

Crickets.

With a resigned grumble he settles into the seat next to you, as though the world might end if he has to spend a handful of minutes in your general proximity.

Then, of course, the universe further conspires to embarrass you by sending you a defective peanuts bag, which you cannot for love or money get to tear open.

“Dear god, tear it at the notch,” grouses the rude man beside you, driven insane by you fighting with it.

“There is no notch.”

He’s there with his big hand extended, making an annoyed give it here gesture. It’s distracting, truly, how long and elegant his fingers are.

“Give it here.”

“I’m fine.”

“Give. It. Here.”

You’re so disgusted with this whole day, you hand it over. Then watch with smug delight as he can’t get it open either. Finally, he uses his teeth in his frustration, undoubtedly spitting all over it. When he tries to hand it back to you, you raise an eyebrow at him. “Really?”

With a sigh, he offers you his less molested bag.

You take it like accepting his sword on the battlefield.

You both make faces as you quickly find that the seasoning on the nuts tastes like hot trash, and you reckon it’s probably a metaphor for how the next few days are going to go.

This is going to be the weekend from hell.

“So what brings you to San Luis Obispo?” the man asks resignedly, almost like he can’t quite stop himself from talking to you. There is an exhaustion in his tone that would have pulled at your heartstrings, if you weren’t so generally pissed off.

“You don’t have to try to talk to me.”

He shrugs, throwing up those big, beautiful hands in a gesture of annoyance. You can’t help but stare at them—they really are a menace.

“Just trying to be pleasant.”

You can’t stop the bark of laughter that escapes you at hearing that. He frowns over at you, and you cover your mouth, hiding your smile. You know you must look like a crazy person—but it’s just too ridiculous.

“Was it that funny?”

You sigh, and for some reason you feel better after the involuntary outburst. Okay. Maybe you can make an effort. No one is ever in a good mood at the airport, after all. “I’m actually going to Paso Robles.”

“Row-bulls.”

“It’s pronounces ro-blays.”

“Everyone says Row-bulls.” 

“Well, not the fucking Spanish who named it.”

He looks away again with that thunderhead of a frown. Why does he have to look extra handsome, when he’s pissed off?

You sigh again. “Look, I’m sorry. I swear, I’m not always such a bitch. It’s just…this fucking wedding I’m going to.”

This catches his attention; he turns to look at you like a hawk zeroing in on a mouse. “Not…Keith and Anne’s wedding?”

“How do you fucking know Keith and Anne?”

“Keith and I share a mother.”

“Holy shit, you’re Frank?”

“Who are you?”

“I was engaged to Keith, years ago.”

“Oh my god, you’re y/n.”

You can sense by the way he says it that you’re infamous in the family’s lore. It’s been a long time, but still, it fills your heart with a familiar leaden despair.

You close your eyes, and look away.

“You’re just as horrible as Keith always said,” you say to the window.

“I find you equally disagreeable, I assure you.”

waiting for death the car

“There was supposed to be a car,” Frank grouses the second you exit the airport. Patience is clearly not his strong suit.

“The flight was early.”

“But it seemed so long.”

It’s a good dig, truth be told, and the corners of your mouth twitch despite yourself. You sit down on a bench, and to your surprise he sits on the other, though on the side closest to you. “So what the hell are you doing here?” he asks. “Didn’t Keith break your heart?”

“Shattered it into bits.”

“Well?”

“I was invited.”

“And…you’re a masochist?”

“Look, I’m not…whatever Keith must have said I am. I was practically a fucking child when he started dating me. It was not…” It was perfectly legal, of course, but the imbalance of worldly experience, looking back, had not been kosher.

You feel the tide of all the pain and insecurity that man caused you raise up in your heart. Usually you’re pretty good at shoving that shit down down in the deepest dungeon you can, like a healthy person, but the wound is feeling a little fucking raw at the moment, considering.

“Keith is an asshole who only cares about himself. I am aware.”

You sigh, and the tide miraculously recedes. Goddamn. It almost feels like he’s on your side.  “Okay, yeah. There you go.”

“Why do this to yourself?”

“You know, before he broke it off, we had a fight the night before because I told him I would never get breast implants, of all fucking things, and Keith told me I would never amount to anything without him.”

“Sounds like something asinine he would say.”

“I wanted to go back to school, and he didn’t like it. He wanted a Stepford wife, and I was becoming alarmingly aware of the world outside his own making of it, the way children do when they grow up. If you’re wondering why he dumped me.”

“That tracks perfectly.”

“He invited me to be a shit and rub my nose in it, so…I’m here as a fuck you. I wanted to show him I’m doing fine.”

“Are you?”

“Yes, actually.”

“You do seem rather well adjusted.”

“Yeah, fuck you too.”

This, surprisingly, makes him smile a little.

A few moments of slightly less awkward silence pass before he asks, “So what did Keith tell you about me?”

“Oh, he told me plenty.”

“Such as?”

“What does it matter?”

“Don’t do that,” he snipes. “Don’t dangle the tidbit then refuse to deliver it.”

“Fine. He said you’re a grouch who hates everyone.”

“Oh. I was afraid he might have said something untrue.”

You glance over at his ridiculously well-sculpted profile. He glares ahead, his brows furrowed, and you strangely get the sense that maybe…he’s a little sad for it.

At fucking last, the shuttle car from the hotel arrives.

Tbc...

[fortheloveoffanfic]

The One That Stays

Keanu Reeves x Reader  

Chapter1   Chapter2

Chapter 3- Rendezvous

“With each word, your tenderness grows, Tearing my fear apart, And that laugh that wrinkles your nose, Touches my foolish heart.” -Frank Sinatra, The Way You Look Tonight.

Friday night had finally come. After a forty hour work week, countless hours spent anticipating the night; it had arrived. Throughout the week, since the Sunday that he had texted her, Y/n and Keanu had texted back and forth, with a few long phone calls in between. By then, it felt like they were long past first dates, like they had already started to know each other. She thought he was easy to talk too and he had even seemed to open up to her a little, obviously not telling her his deepest secrets, but he had shared his thoughts with her, allowed her into his mind. It was nice.

“Why are you so nervous?” Julie asked, coming out from Y/n’s closet, holding a pair of suede thigh highs.

“I’m not nervous,” Y/n squealed defensively, putting the finishing touches on her winged eyeliner.

Julie rolled her eyes, picking up two tops from Y/n’s bed, comparing them with a edgy leather jacket that hung on the closet door, “Of course you are, you’re doing that leg thing.“

With an effort to stop the fast bouncing of her right leg, “No I’m not,” she defended, “I think the grey one looks nice.”

“Yeah,” Julie hummed, “But it’s so business casual, this one,” she shook a strappy tan blouse with little bits of lace sewn on about it, “It’s flirty and cute. And it’ll give him a nice view of your boobs. I think he’ll like that. He seems like a boobs man.”

“A boobs man?” Y/n quoted with wide, amused eyes, “How would you know that? Is there something you want to tell me?” She cocked an eyebrow suggestively.

“No, just no,” Julie shook her head, scrunching her nose, “I saved him for you. And he just seems like the type. Just a hot man with big dick energy who likes grabbing boobs,” she mused, looking of into a distance that Y/n couldn’t quite meet.

“Okay,” she sighed, tossing her make-up brush to the top of her vanity, getting up to grab her jeans off the bed, “I’ll wear that top, and give you a thousand dollars to never use that phrase ever again.”

Julie laughed loudly, taking the top of the hanger, tossing it to Y/n, “Throw in another thousand and I’ll think about it,” she waited for Y/n to finish adjusting things in front of the mirror, completing the outfit with her jacket before complimenting, “See, I knew that was the one.” At that, there was a knocking at the door, and Julie hurried to the door before Y/n could even finish with her shoes.

“Tell him that I’ll be right out!” Y/n called.

“Hi!” Julie greeted cheerily the minute she pulled the door open, startling Keanu who had been nervously rocking back and forth on his feet.

“Jules, hey,” he chortled, cautiously stepping in as she invited him inside, taking in Y/n’s apartment. It was of a fair size, but certainly reflected that she was paid well. A short hallway with honey colored walls broke into a small, well designed kitchen to the left and a cozy living room to the right. The balcony, from what he could see, offered a spectacular view of the sea and near the window was a round dining table, “I didn’t know you two were roommates.”

“Oh, we’re not,” she waved him off, “I live one floor down,” she explained. Taking a step closer to Keanu, “Y/n’s gonna be out in a minute.”

“Great,” he smiled, worrying on his bottom lip as Julie seemed to be getting closer and closer, folding her arms across her chest, “Is.....everything okay?”

“Yeah,” she nodded, giving a once over, “I know I set you two up, and you seem like a really nice guy Keanu. But even the nicest people make mistakes, so if you make a mistake with Y/n, and you hurt her, I’m gonna shove a pole so far up your-”

“Jules!” Y/n emerged from an opposing hallway, presumably from her bedroom, “She’s just kidding. She doesn’t have a pole, or a tendency to commit heinous murders.”

“You don’t know that,” Julie argued from behind Keanu, who was looking between them, unsure if it would be okay to express his amusement.

“I do know that,” Y/n shook her head, giving her attention to Keanu, “Ready?” She breathed, drinking him in; he was dressed in all black, a riding jacket over a simple t-shirt and a pair of jeans.

“When you are,” he grinned, “You look....gorgeous by the way,” he breathed

“Thank you,” Y/n beamed. After ensuring that Julie would lock up, Y/n bid her good bye and set of with Keanu, “And I am, shall we?”

The ride down in the elevator wasn’t as much uncomfortable as it was awkward. Without the confidence of alcohol or the security of separation, things felt a little too real. Keanu tapped the tip of his key against his thigh while Y/n drummed the toe of her shoe on the floor, “Are you nervous? Cause I’m nervous,” Y/n looked up at him, hoping she hadn’t misread things.

“I am,” he sighed in relief, “This isn’t like talking on the phone.”

“At all,” she finished with a laugh, “Why are first dates like this?”

“Cause they’re the first one?” His question was a rhetorical one, and tentatively, he offered his arm on walk towards his bike as the cool metal doors slid open with a ding.

Y/n giggled a little, “Well maybe this doesn’t have to be the first one. We met at that party last week, and we’ve been talking on the phone for a while. So this could be like our.....third, fourth date?”

“You’re right. I like that,” Keanu agreed.

“Mhm,” Y/n nodded wistfully, “Modern problems require modern solutions.”

Keanu’s head fell back in a bout of loud laughter, “Isn’t that a.......one of those picture things, with the words and my nephews are always looking at them.”

A fit of giggles erupted from Y/n’s lips, her chest shaking, her eyes almost watering, “A meme?”

“That!” he slapped his thigh, “I can never get that to stick. A meme,” he mused, as if the word were so foreign. “Why is it even called that? What does it mean? What does ‘meme’ mean?”

“I honestly have no idea. I’m from a weird generation and we like weird words,” Y/n laughed and soon, they were approaching his motorcycle; an impressive shiny grey and black bike, set to seat two people. Y/n inhaled deeply, trying to sound lighter than she felt, “You really ride this, huh?”

“I do,” Keanu raised his eyebrows at Y/n’s apparent discomfort with the idea. He wasn’t sure what he was thinking, opting to pick her up with a bike as opposed to his car, maybe he wanted her close, maybe he hadn’t thought of it at all, “Don’t be scared,” he reassured her, grabbing a couple helmets that formerly hung off the handles, “As long as we put safety first,” he offered her one, “We’ll be fine. You’re already halfway there,” Keanu finally gestured to her jacket.

“I don’t know,” Y/n shuddered nervously, “I’ve never been on of these and they go so fast, and there are no doors or seatbelts and,” the more Y/n listened to herself, the more she just wanted to turn around and retreat to the comfort of her apartment. She wanted safety, security and familiarity. That didn’t come with speeding death traps, “It’s just......I....”

“Hey,” Keanu hurriedly dropped the helmets on the seat, grabbing her shoulders, his grip firm but not intimidating, “It’s going to be okay. Just relax and don’t think about it.”

“That’s your advice?” Y/n frowned, eyes wide.

“Yeah?” Keanu cringed, wondering if he could have done better. Taking a deep breath, he decided to give it another go, “Look, I’ve had some accidents, some of them pretty bad.”

“That does not make me feel better,” Y/n’s shoulder slumped and her frowned turned to a pout.

Keanu just chuckled, “Well that’s cause you didn’t let me finish. I’ve had accidents, so now, I know how to prevent them. I promise you’ll be safe. Besides, I’m pretty sure that if something happened to you, Julie would......start looking into a pole dealership of some sort.”

At that, Y/n smiled and Keanu did too. He was just as easy to trust as he was to talk too. When was the last time she let someone make her feel that way? A few years, more than five maybe? Less? Definitely not. “Fine,” she relented, “But this doesn’t mean I’m easy, it just means that you made a good point and I’m mature enough to accept it.”

“I’ll take it,” he declared, once again retrieving the helmets. That time, Y/n cautiously accepted one, putting it on, trying to hold it in place while trying to make sure there wasn’t any hair in her face, something that was perhaps easier said than done. The hard plastic protective dome was either sitting properly a top her head while there was hair falling in her face, or, there was no hair in her face and the helmet actually felt like bulking bowl on her head. No compromise. “Here,” Keanu put his large hands over hers, adjusting and fixing till it was just right.

He was standing so close, his brows furrowed in concentration, his rough fingers brushing her skin, sending shivers down her body. Her line of sight, in those shoes, lined up directly with the exposed skin at his throat and though her head was tilted upwards, all it took was a glance down for her to see where his beard ended and the light shine of the faded scar near the crease of his neck. He smelt like leather, cologne and the undertones of a cigarette long smoked; it was alluring and Y/n knew that after that, the scent would forever be pleasantly associated with him.

Before she could get used to Keanu’s hands grazing her skin, he was finished, they were gone and he was softly smiling down at her. Still so, very close. Why’d he have to be so handsome? “Thanks,” she blushed.

“My pleasure,” he looked as if he were about to say more. He felt like he wanted to do more. The moment was right and there were separated by a mere inch. Y/n was so small, Keanu thought, so pretty. Beautiful, gorgeous, pretty, whatever you wanted to call it, she was it. Dark lipstick stood out against her skin and it was easy to see why she wore it so often. In most of the pictures she had sent from work over the past few days, she had worn a deep red, that for some reason, reminded him of Christmas berries. The one she wore that night though, was the one from the party, easily complementing the rest of her simple, clean cut make-up. 

“Should we get going?” Y/n broke the buzzing silence, probably deciding that if something was going to happen, it would have already.

Keanu nodded slowly, trying to shake himself out of it, “Yeah, we should.” He helped Y/n get on first, and then got on in front of her, “You can hold onto me, or the grips under the seat. Whatever you choose; just relax and don’t make any sudden movements.”

“Got it,” she beamed, her hands going tightly around his waist, her body pressed to his. She could feel his warmth under her fingers and against her front, comforting, his even breathing reminding her that he’d keep them safe.

“Ready?” In a beat, Y/n was confirming that she was and Keanu started the bike, letting it rumble heartily beneath them for a minute before he eased out of the spot, towards the exit of the underground garage. 

When Y/n took off the helmet, running delicate fingers though her hair to neaten it, her eyes were bright and her smile was wide. “You liked it?” Keanu asked, waiting for confirmation of the obvious fact.

“Are you kidding me?” She beamed and a cool breeze passed, rustling their hair a little, bringing with it the refreshing scent of the near by sea, “That. Was. Exhilarating!” Y/n threw her head back in wild laughter and Keanu thought he could get used to seeing her that animated and at ease.

Keanu’s smile widened, his insides doing a happy little happy dance; not only had he talked her into getting on, but as it turns out, Y/n had actually enjoyed it. The ride hadn’t been long though, considering Y/n’s place was about twenty minutes from the first place he had chosen, a nice family-owned restaurant near the Santa Monica pier, it was so small that only a lucky few had found out about it. Most people usually didn’t give the place a second glance, but when finding privacy was as hard as it was for Keanu, you’d give anything a try. And that’s what he had done a couple years before when he had walked into the establishment, not really expecting much. 

The building was small, and tucked away after the string of fancier places had ended, even past a couple pubs that were usually frequented by twenty-something college students over long weekends and spring breaks. The décor was quaint and simple; a charming mix of stylishly worn wooden tables and chairs mixed in with crisp white table cloths and matching cushions upholstered to the booths at the corner. A dim little bell dinged when Keanu pushed in one side of the creaky double doors and his face lit up when Y/n smiled at the scene, mouth opening in awe, “This place is adorable,” she mused quietly.

“You like it? I wasn’t sure if you’d be expecting something.....fancier,” he chuckling, the visible parts of his cheeks going pink, “It’s just this place it private and-”

“It’s perfect Keanu,” she slipped her hand into his, “Its charming, and so quiet, do you come often?” Y/n’s hand stayed in his, joining them a the center of their fingers as he led her to a corner booth where menus already waited.

“Sometimes, when I want to get away from all the craziness and just......get away and have a nice dinner by myself,” he claimed on side of the booth, Y/n sliding into the other, “It’s actually one of my favorite spots around here.”

“Kind of feels like you’re letting me in on one of your secrets,” Y/n mused with a softened smile.

He was.

Keanu couldn’t recall having ever taking someone there before Y/n, he didn’t think he had ever trusted another with something that close to him. The restaurant, at least to Keanu, wasn’t just a place, it was his own little escape from the drama of fame, the staff didn’t treat him like he was royalty, and often, there was so little people that he wouldn't have to worry about being photographed or whispered about. He liked it, and in an attempt to protect it and maybe himself,  Keanu had kept it from those around him. But then he asked Y/n out, and every place that he could think of seemed too impersonal and generic. He wanted to connect with her, give her an experience that she wasn’t expecting, something that she’d enjoy, that might guarantee him another date. 

Keanu waited until the waitress had taken their orders and the menus before responding, “I didn’t want this to be......manufactured,” he gestured wildly, “Like every other first date, I wanted it to be special, I wanted you to enjoy it because it’s real, not because it fits into some kind of standardized expectation,” Keanu shook his head, going to nervously drum the table top with his hands, suddenly worried that he might have said too much too soon.

Y/n tentatively sipped her water, eyeing him, amused, “I get that,” she nodded, “I don’t think I’ve ever been on a first date, or maybe any date, where the guy put in this much effort.”

Feeling a rare swell of confidence, probably stemming from the pride that he had managed to impress her, and the excitement of actually sitting across from her, Keanu reached for her hand on the table, shrugging absently, “Maybe you've just been dating the wrong guys.”

“Maybe.”

Dinner had gone by without the slightest hitch. The food had been great and the company even better. Y/n and Keanu had spent about three hours at the little restaurant, talking about everything and nothing at all. She had told him how she and Julie had met; on the first day of kindergarten so many moons ago and he had told her about what it was like growing up while travelling as much as his family had. They had seemed to connect on some indistinguishable level, the way one could on a first date and then a little more; like old friends who were just stepping into something less platonic. 

After Keanu had cleared the check, even upon Y/n’s instance to split it, they had walked back to his back and that time, she gotten on excitedly, without protest. He didn’t take her home right then, instead they went in little ways into the city, to a more popular place that was still, for the most part, a gem among the many Los Angeles dives. 

“A speakeasy!” Y/n gasped, grabbing his forearm as they entered. It was a little larger than the restaurant at the pier, with a series of low hanging chandeliers emitting dim yellow lighting, making rich mahogany and oak furniture seem darker than it was. Glass liquor bottles glittered dramatically behind the bar, manned by two men dressed to loosely reflect the era, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You’d have dressed like a flapper?” He joked and strode up to the bar, paying for an old fashioned for him and a cheery looking mint julep for Y/n. 

Y/n’s eyes travelled around the room, looking for the source of the soft jazz music adding to the mood, taking the first sip of her twenties inspired drink, “I might have.”

Keanu chuckled quietly, appreciating her unspoken wonder; he hadn’t expected her to be so in awe of a place like that, but he was glad she seemed to like it. Y/n looked like a dream when she smiled. If he was that smitten then, Keanu couldn’t imagine how he’d feel if he got the chance to see where they went, “Somehow I can’t imagine you all decked off in the whole,” he made an exaggerated motion with his free hand, unable to find words that would fit.

“Are you kidding me? I’ve been obsessed with that stuff since I read the Great Gatsby for Ap Literature! It’s one of my favorites,”  Y/n ended, blushing. “So what’s the story behind this place?” She leaned in conspiringly, ring adorned fingers toying with the bottom of her glass.

“What makes you think there’s a story?” Keanu licked his lips, his hands absently going over hers, easily engulfing them, marveling at how smooth and soft they were.

Briefly, for the slightest second, Y/n glanced down at their hands; closed in together around her glass, thinking that she could get used to the feeling of his skin on hers, “You don’t seem like the kind of guy that just does something without purpose. You had to have known about this place, how’d you find it? Why do you like it?”

Keanu shrugged, and Y/n felt like she had figured him out, at least, part of him, “When I come here, it feels like I’m going back in time for a while. Like I’m closed off from the rest of the city; it’s not crowded and loud like those other places, and the people that come here,” Keanu quickly looked around them, other patrons occupying tables and booths against the walls, some loners at the bar and a couple swaying slowly in the center of the room, “They’re looking for something just like this too. They just want to enjoy a few drinks without.....”

“A bar fight and someone hitting on them,” Y/n finished for him.

“Yeah,” Keanu grinned, leaning back into his side of the booth, reaching for his half finished drink.

As the night waned on, Y/n and Keanu had drawn further into the center of the rounded booth, not stopping until Y/n was comfortably close and one of Keanu’s arms was draped around her shoulders, cuddling her close. For the rest of the night, even past closing time, they had remained engaged in hushed conversation, their faces close together as one worker swept the floor and another wiped down the counter, eyeing them with visible annoyance. Neither of them noticed though, too caught up in each other, and eventually, soft speaking had turned to brief pecks.

Keanu’s hand moved to gently cradle the back of her neck, tangling in her hair, and Y/n’s cupped his cheek, his beard tickling her palm, her thumb grazing  his cheek bone, “You taste like rum and mint,” he commented softly when they broke, trying to ignore the fact that already, his lips had started to miss hers.

“And you taste like whiskey,” Y/n giggled before going in for another. The glasses sat forgotten on the table and when Keanu playfully grabbed her bottom lip between his teeth, Y/n smirked against his lips. Their noses were pressed together and Y/n felt like she was melting into him, in the best of way. Their kisses weren’t sexual or hinting at things to come, but they were promising in a different way, a way that was enough for them both in the moment.

Near the table, someone cleared their throat and Y/n and Keanu sprang apart, smirking like teenagers who had just gotten caught under the bleachers, “We should go,” Y/n suggested, trying to stifle her laughter.

“We should,” Keanu agreed, and for a minute, they both just sat there, drinking each other in, before he reached for her hand, leading her out the booth. When their tab had been settled, they walked back to his bike, engaging in yet another juvenile make out session, thankfully protected by the darkness until Keanu suggested that they actually get to leaving.

She had clung to Keanu tighter than she had the first two or three times and when they finally reached Y/n’s building, Keanu felt his heart sink a little at the thought of letting her go.

“I had fun tonight,” Y/n breathed dreamily as they reached her door and she fished her keys out of her pocket.

Keanu nodded, “I did too, it was....amazing,” he sighed in agreement.

“It was,” Y/n stood on the tips of her toes, her lips pressed to his, Keanu’s arms snaking around her waist, her hands holding onto his shoulders for balance.

“Can I see you tomorrow?” Her door was already opened, and they had already had several ‘goodnight’ kisses by then.

Y/n raised an amused eye brow, “No three day rule?” She teased.

“Fuck three days,” he scoffed, then casting his head down, “If you’re busy-”

“I’m not. Come by tomorrow. There’s this place on the beach we can go to, and we can go for a walk; it’ll be fun.”

“Great,” Keanu shoved in hands into his pockets, in a throw away attempt to keep them off Y/n, “I’ll see you tomorrow, around five?”

“That’s perfect,” Y/n agreed, offering one final peck on the lips before bidding him goodnight, for real that time. Then, when she was sure that Keanu was out of ear shot, she leaned against the locked front door, squealing in excitement, only stopping so she could give Julie a call, and replay the whole thing.

********

Tagging- @baphometwolf666  @kindainlovewithkeanu​

[ficsnroses]

A New Beginning - Keanu Reeves x Reader

Hello! This fic was inspired by the song Everybody Loves Somebody by Dean Martin. To receive the *full* effect, please do give it a listen before or while reading, it’s a treat and I promise you won’t regret! I’ve linked it here. On a different note, I’m not as confident in this fic as I was in my first, but I hope this sufficed and you enjoy regardless :) Let me know your thoughts! This fic does have a flashback that is indicated in text. 

Word Count : 1959

Summary : It’s move in day for Keanu and the reader, and Keanu can’t help but express his love in a special, endearing way.

Requested : No

Warnings : None! Just some fluffy domestic Keanu content. 

It was a Saturday evening, and the sun had begun to set, channeling a pink and purple hue over the horizon. It was the middle of September and summer had finally come to a close. The beginning of Autumn had brought cozier evenings, and the world looked like it had been lightly crusted with sprinkles of cinnamon, brown sugar, and bright, vibrant apple blossoms.

           A cool breeze channeled through the open window, pirouetting in the atmosphere for a moment, before whirling over your skin leaving goosebumps, swaying your mind away as if in a ballet as you exhaled a weary sigh.

           You glossed your eyes around the room, the space littered with scattered brown cardboard boxes, some empty, some occupied with belongings, until they landed on your ever so giant boyfriend sitting cross legged on the apartment floor. His eyes squinted and nose scrunched trying to read to tiny instructions on the manual describing how to build the brand new wooden table you had purchased for your new house you had bought together. You smiled lightly to yourself, his black and lightly brunette dusted hair falling in his eyes every so often.

           Keanu and you had been together for a little over 3 years, and gosh had it been amazing. The way he made you feel was something you never quite thought you would get. It felt so real, so true, as if the universe had clicked and allowed you to indulge in the sweetest existence. You both felt as if you completed the missing parts of each other, constantly helping, supporting and being in each other’s corner. Just the mere sight of you was enough to make his heart flutter, but the feeling of knowing he had one person in the sea of people to call his own, to have and to hold, to protect and be protected from whatever ups and downs may be thrown meant more to him than could be put into words. It was a warmth that only you and him could comprehend, almost like a two-person team that no one else could ever be a part of. You would be lying if you said you hadn’t been dreaming of this move in together since just a few months into your relationship. It had been a long time coming.

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

           “Hey babe, how was work?” Keanu smiled into the phone. Evening had fallen and he had been in the kitchen cooking up a meal for yourself and him.

           “It was alright, the usual. I’m exhausted.” You sighed. You were driving to your apartment, Keanu’s voice through the Bluetooth was refreshing, like hearing your favourite melody.

           “Aw, that’s alright sweetheart. I made you dinner, how about we crack open a bottle of your favourite red in the Jacuzzi later tonight?” he suggested while stirring the pot.

           “Oh Ke, I didn’t know you wanted to spend tonight together? I’m sorry honey but I’m almost at my apartment now” you frowned, feeling a tingle in your heart that he had gone through all the effort for you.

           Keanu and you had been going back and fourth to each other’s places almost every day. You both had keys to each other’s apartments, and would often end up spending the night together, cuddled up on the couch after a long day, enjoying each other’s company and escaping from the world of responsibilities. Keanu had a drawer at your place, his belongings peppered around your apartment, constantly reminding you of your life together. Simple things that made your heart swell with happiness, such as seeing a bag of Keanu’s favourite dark roast coffee he drank every morning in your cupboard beside your mugs. At Keanu’s apartment, you had seized a large portion of his wardrobe. But he didn’t mind, in fact it was one of his favourite parts of waking up when you weren’t there with him to see your shoes next to his, and some of your sweaters, dresses and shirts hanging around in his wardrobe.

           “Spend the night here, please. I would love to help you wind down.” He spoke.

After a bit of contemplation, you sighed and turned the car around. You could never quite resist him.

That evening, as promised, after dinner Keanu had drew you a nice warm bath in the Jacuzzi with your favourite rose scent. He sat behind you in the steaming water with you leaning back on his chest, your eyes closed and breathing calm. He kneaded your shoulders lightly trying to rid any tension. You both loved the intimacy of a bath or shower together, it helped you feel completely connected.

           “Why do we keep doing this?” Keanu eventually broke the silence as he brushed his chin against your shoulder, nuzzling his face into your neck.

           “Hmm?” you questioned, eyes still closed. “What do you mean love?”

           “This, all the scrambling” He placed a light kiss to the top of your shoulder, his lips still lingering over the sensitive area. You could feel his breath on your skin.

           “I want us to always come back to the same place. To be the first person we see in the morning and the last before bed every night. I’ve been thinking long and hard and..”

           “Are you suggesting we move in together Keanu?” You cut him off, turning your head to peer over your shoulder.

           He smiled sheepishly. “Yeah…I am, if you want of course. I feel ready and I feel good about this.” He gestured between you two.

           “I feel pretty darn good about it too.” You whispered grinning back, getting lost in his espresso eyes before sharing a tender kiss to his lips.

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

           You walked over to Keanu and kneeled down behind him, snaking your arms around his neck, placing a kiss to the back of his head before tucking your head into his shoulder.

           “You look cute when you don’t know what you’re doing” you smiled.

           “Hey hey, I do too know what I’m doing.” He took his finger and moved the frame of his glasses up his nose. “I’m just trying to establish the most efficient way to do this.” He replied, resting his hand on yours, brushing his thumb over it.

           “Sure babe. Whatever you say.” You said slowly rising up, lightly chuckling. That’s when the door bell went. Due to all the cleaning and painting Keanu and yourself had done all day, and the house being completely empty, not yet furnished, you had decided to order a pizza as there was no food or cooking equipment in yet.

           “I’ll get it” Keanu said as he rose, pulling out his wallet. You walked over to the fridge, pulling out two bottles of wine. Of course, the only thing in the fridge at the moment was wine, you both knew you’d need it after the day you’d had.

           “White or red Ke?” You asked.

           “Hmmm…it’s a white kinda day.” He replied as he closed the door and set the box of pizza down on the hardwood floor. You both ate sitting on the floor, sharing laughs between your conversation, gulping down the crisp wine. It felt like a bottle of poetry on your tongue.

After dinner, Keanu took his place back by the unbuilt wooden coffee table, and you back on the floor by the wall. You were in the process of touching up some of the paint on the wall near the bottoms and edges. It was a task that took a lot of precision.

Music played through the speakers and flooded the empty house, the echoes making it sound like your own private concert. You had played your favourite playlist, consisting of hits from Frank Sinatra & Dean Martin. The vibe in the house felt soothing, so inviting and full of passion.

           Keanu had been stealing glances at you for the majority of the evening. He couldn’t help it, the way your hair was tucked atop your head in a messy bun, yet a strand was still falling on your cheek slightly annoying you made him grin like child experiencing fireworks for the first time. The look of determination and precision on your face made his heart smile. He admired that about you, your work ethic and the way you put 100% into everything you did. You truly were the perfect women in his eyes. He was drifting away in his own thoughts until he heard a familiar track begin to fall from the speakers.

           Everybody loves some body sometime

           Everybody falls in love somehow

Suddenly, Keanu began to get up from his spot and trek towards you, a bright smile plastered on his lips. He couldn’t help himself.

           Something in your kiss, just told me

           My sometime, is now

Once he reached you, he bent down slightly and held his hand out for you to take.

You shot him a confused smile. “Come on love.” He spoke softly, looking you right in your eyes, so full of admiration. You took his much larger hand in yours, rising up. Once you were up, he gently caressed both your hands and placed them on his shoulders, while subsequently wrapping his arms right around your waist.

           Everybody finds somebody some place

           There’s no telling where love may appear

           Something in my heart keeps saying, my someplace, is here

Keanu began sway gently to the music, his eyes never leaving yours, as if he were staring deep into your soul. You couldn’t control your smile either, staring right back. It truly felt like home, like you were staring right back at your entire world, placed right in front of you, tenderly matching each others movements, completely united, spewing with passion and desire for each other.

Keanu took one of you hands and gave you a twirl, admiring you in your entirety. As you placed your arms around his neck, he connected his forehead to yours, still smiling. He wrapped his hands around one of your wrists.

That’s when he started softly singing to you.

           If I had it in my power,

           I’d arrange for every girl to have your charm

           Then every minute, every hour,

           Every boy would find what I found in your arms

“You know babe, I was thinking we should install a pet door for the dog” he spoke, still swaying you to the music, his fingers drawing circles on your back, holding you tight.

“We don’t have a dog, silly.” You shook your head at him, giggling, placing a soft kiss on his jaw.

“I think it would be a good first addition to our little family” he grinned back.

That sentence had the power to send a wave of warm contentment through your entire body. This new house together had started to make him think of the rest of his life with you by his side, and the family he knew you would create together, the purest symbol of your love. It felt like everything in his life had finally started to fall into place, and he was beaming to finally be able to start his life with you. A new beginning with the women of his dreams.

           You rest your head on his broad chest, feeling the thud of his heartbeat spring through your ears. Keanu kept swaying gently with you tangled in his arms. Softly, he brought his cheek down to rest on top of your head, as he softly sang along to the song, making sure you could hear the outpour of his love gushing onto you.

           As he closed his eyes with you pressed flush against his skin, arms around his neck, he hummed the last segment of the song, before placing a kiss in your hair.

           Your love made it well worth waiting

           For someone

           Like you.

[nikky-the-writer]

Arrest brought us closer

Billy Russo x Reader

Summary: AU! Reader is forced by Maria to go on a blind date along with her and Frank

Request: Yes

Warning:cursing, fluff, funny, mentions of cheating and sex......and the Reader is like the star of this fic!!!

___________________________________________________________

Your screams echoed through the small apartment as your best friend tickled you. She was uninvited in your apartment after you had already prepared yourself for your little movie marathon while in your favorite fuzzy pajamas. Your eyes were welling up and soon tears were falling from your eyes as she tickled you. “I’m not going,” you yelled after escaping from her attack. Maria was sitting on your bed with her dress slightly lifted up and a few fallen strands escaping her messy braid. “Why?” she asked with her eyebrows furrowed as you never say no to her.

“Because I know what you’ve been up to,” you breathed out. You stood a few feet away from your bed wiping away your tears and the only thing she could was to stare at you with her eyebrow raised. “And what would that be?” she questioned although aware that you could’ve easily found out. “A blind date with Frank’s friend, I know you girl; you can’t hide anything from me.” “But you are still going,” she stated smiling before hoping of your bed and to the closet. “No, not really.” “Come on, Billy would be perfect for you,” Maria insisted as she looked through your clothes. She even pulled out two dresses that you bought once and never actually wore. She placed them on your bed only for you to put them back in. “Neither you or I know who would be perfect for me. When I was younger I thought that Keanu Reeves would be perfect, but guess what he isn’t.” “Are you serious right now?” she questioned for the first time actually realizing that you had no intention going. You would usually go as she would’ve stayed with you refusing to go as well. “Why would I be Padfoot?” “Of course that you have to make fun of everything that I say,” she exclaimed throwing her hands in the air in defeat. “Well, this was your fault, remember when you were begging me ‘please Y/N, please read Harry Potter to them, I can’t, not again’ so yeah, it’s on you,” you shrugged before fixing the pillow on your bed so that you could get comfortable but you didn’t even get the chance to lie back down before she started again. “You can’t pass this.” “Oh, just watch me, although FYI you are not really invited to stay as I’m angry at you and I need my me time,” you threw the other pillow at her face not really caring if her makeup gets ruined as she had done that to you many times before. “Come on he is perfect,” she was now pouting like a child as if you had forbidden her to eat chocolate. You only wish that she doesn’t start screaming and crying like kids do when something is not the way they want it to be. “Wait, I just got an amazing idea and nobody would be disappointed,” you offered as you pulled a cardigan over your shoulder before sitting down. “Alright, what?” “You already said that he is perfect and he is Frank’s best friend, so why don’t you three have dinner and then a threesome. I mean all three parties are satisfied, more than that and you leave me alone,” you had a grin on your face as you finished talking and you could see clear annoyance on hers, but you were proud of your little idea, it’s not like it hurt anyone. “Are you really going to be like this?” “Are you really going to set me up with a man whore?” “What?” she asked staring at you in confusion. “Well, I did some digging and I found things,” you admitted it wasn’t completely true as you wouldn’t do to someone but she didn’t have to know that you heard Frank mentioning that once. “It was supposed to be a blind date,” she exclaimed hoping that you would go, although now the chances were lower than before. “Well, I wished that I was blind after seeing some things,” you teased and seeing her reaction there really was a chance that there was some evidence about it and that alone was already a firm no from you. “He is not like that anymore,” she insisted. “Really?” “Yeah, now please get ready and stop using your work privileges to spy on others,” Maria warned referring to your job in the FBI, however, you didn’t need that to know something. “Any dum-dum with internet can do it.” “Go dress,” Maria said pulling back the maroon dress she previously took out. “I’m ready,” you said as you grabbed your phone, wallet, keys and your badge placing them in your small backpack and taking your gun from the safe. “What?” “It doesn’t really matter if I have long fuzzy sweatpants with a warm cardigan or a skin thigh dress as I have no intentions in being with that guy, not even to have sex and it’s really been a long time.” “Alright, let’s go, you will be the one who will regret it,” she warned you while begging you with her eyes to change your mind. “Not if you were truthful when you said that he has changed.”

___________________________________________________________

The drive wasn’t long and if you were lucky you could leave in an hour and be home with enough time to watch those movies. After you parked your car Maria led you to the small restaurant, it seemed a bit posh, but you didn’t really care as in your line of work you had been seen wearing worse, especially undercover. “Hey, you are la…What are you wearing?” Frank asked as you approached the table. He was clearly surprised as he glanced from you to his wife in question. “It’s called clothes, I’m sure you are aware of that,” you asked as if not understanding what he meant. “But to the restaurant?” Frank asked as even he had a button up which Maria forced him to wear. “Wait, do you want me to strip?” you asked still faking your naivety and you didn’t miss his friend smirking at your behavior. “Y/N, this is Billy,” Frank finally introduced you and after you were sited next to Billy you turned slightly towards him. “Hey, did they torture you too, to come tonight?” you questioned without even glancing to your two friends who shared a well-known look. “Not really, what did they do to you?” Billy asked curiously as he stared at you with his chocolate eyes. “Tickling,” you whispered as if it was forbidden to say it and it made him chuckle. “That’s not torture, I tickle my kids,” Frank added. “Well, my dear Frankie,” you started dramatically leaning closer over the table to him. “Tickling was used as a form of torture during the Han Dynasty for the nobility.” Frank only stared at you just as Maria and soon silence followed and you were secretly enjoying this as with this Maria will learn lesson to stop messing with your life. “So…” Maria started and you only smirked. “So, awkward silence, I loved those,” you exclaimed before the waiter came to take your orders. And the moment the waiter left Maria looked at you. “Y/N, just give it a try,” she said at your obvious lack of trying to get to know Billy. However, to you, that was useless as even if he wasn’t a man whore you still knew that you weren’t his type and from what you heard from Frank about his friend he didn’t seem as yours although you didn’t even have a specific type. You just hated when people were trying too much and were over flirtatious and just fake as you had seen so many in your line of work. And truthfully not many guys want to be with a woman who could kick their ass and who would stand up for herself and those she cares and your ex learned that in a sort of painful way. As you had to travel a lot for work your then boyfriend would get lonely so he would cheat on you with his coworker. You were well aware that he would sleep with her in your apartment as he had a roommate who knew you and the girl didn’t even know that you existed. So you decided to revenge and it was sweet revenge indeed.   “I have no tries to give left, what about you Billy, how come that you agreed to this?” you asked the man next to you. “Because Frank told me a lot about you, he said that we have a lot in common.” “And what would that be, Frankie? It’s certainly isn’t our profession, we both carry a gun, but it’s not the same thing, so what then?” you questioned again more so to annoy your friends. “Y/N, are you really going to do this?” Frank asked and Billy could just stay silent as he had no idea what was Frank talking about. Billy was truthfully intrigued with you as usually he was the one who would be like that with Frank he only hoped that you will actually give him a chance. “Just answer my question, I mean we both know that nothing in our love life could be in common, I mean only if he slept with one of the only two guys I had sex with,” you shrugged just as the waiter was coming with your order and you could see the young man blushing at your bluntness as he give you your food and you could only wink at him. “Y/N, stop,” Maria pleaded. “Alright, but when this ends in disaster let’s all be aware that only thing I wanted was to have a lovely evening with my dream lover,” you shrugged before looking down to your delicious looking plate. “And who is my competition?” Billy asked grinning at you. “Well tonight it was Keanu, but yesterday it was Hardy, I kind of can’t decide.” “It is a tough decision,” he agreed with you and you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling. “Exactly, and what about you?” you questioned. “I have to say Hardy, it’s the accent.” You started laughing at his answer almost choking on your drink. “I didn’t mean between them.” “Yeah, but I would still say the same.” “Alright I have to tell you that you are a terrible liar,” you pointed out totally oblivious to Frank and Maria who were observing your interaction. “I’m not lying,” he insisted. “Alright, then why am I here?” you asked with your voice sterner as if you were angry but you were having troubles in hiding a smile. “Hmm…” “Well if you prefer male company more than female just as I assumed the moment I saw you why am I here then?” you shrugged before moving your gaze from him to your friends. “You are trouble…” Billy said as he watched you. “You can ask my ex how true that is,” you murmured but he heard you. “Y/N, please don’t talk about that,” Maria warned you as it wasn’t really the right why the way you dealt with that situation, but you wouldn’t change it maybe just to make it worse. “Now, I need to know.” “And know you shall my little padawan, listen and learn.” “This is going to be good,” Billy turned more towards you giving you his full attention as you started the story. “Well as Frank probably told you I’m an FBI agent so I have resources and friends to make you suffer. After I found out that my then boyfriend was cheating I made a little plane of revenge. As he used my place to fuck his side piece I called a friend in police and got him arrested for breaking and entry. He was brought to the station in his boxers and put in a holding cell until his layer came. And then when he was questioned the officer told him that they had problems in finding the owner, he spent like ten hours there and still he didn’t want to call me and say what was happening as then I would find out that he cheated. And finally when a few more hours passed by I arrived to the station as I was the one who could press charges and I was let inside and none of it was by protocol which his stupid ass didn’t even notice and like we then spent half an hour talking, with him explaining his made up story to me and that I just have to explain to the police that I know him and then he would be free to go, and what not. It was pathetic and when a police officer came in I looked straight up at my boyfriend and said that I don’t know him. Then he was brought back to the cell and the next day I had my friend realis him,” you spoke with your eyes sparkling as you were proud of what you did although it wasn’t nice, he did cheat on you for more than two months. “I guess that he stayed away from you after that.” “No, I actually was waiting for him in front of the precinct and before he could say anything I just looked at him and said: ‘I hope that now you have learned how it feels to be betrayed’, he was the one starting to apologize, but I just turned around and walked away,” you admitted shrugging and you could see the change on Billy as if he admired what you did. “Nobody crosses you,” he stated with a smirk on his face. “Oh, they try and then they learn.” “I like that,” he admitted and after that, your evening only got better as you exchanged stories about your work and some funny things that happened to you completely forgetting about your two friends.

___________________________________________________________

A/N: Thank you for reading!!!!!!!

[bluewolfeevee]

I was tagged by someone. She didn’t want me to link her so Oof. I dare you, @ninjas-and-tea @ninjnerds2017 @her7emeralds @stronk-anime-nya @zenaairale @decaypenguin

1. Dogs, or Cats? Both can’t choose between my children.

2. YouTube Celebrities, or Normal Celebrities? Youtube. Much more…real.

3. If you could live anywhere. Where would it be? I automatically still pick my state. But if I had to chose probably Japan or Sweden.

4. Disney or Dreamworks? Dreamworks. Shrek is iconic and Dreamworks is just a big fuck you note to Disney always! :D I love Disney don’t get me wrong.

5. Favorite Childhood TV show? Ninjago and Pokemon. Don’t at me, but also Stargate.

6. The movie you are looking forward to 2020? Not going lie, but Wonder Woman 1984 or 1912.

7. Favorite Book Read in 2019? God, It’s got to be Hamlet. I reread all the Shakespeare works.

8. Marvel, or DC? Obvious. DC, I love Marvel but as a comic book reader, it’s gotten boring comic book-wise for me.

9. If you choose Marvel, favorite X-Man. If you choose DC, favorite JL members? You can’t control me! Kitty Pryde and Jubilee are my favorite X-Men. Blue Beetle, Booster Gold, Any GL are my favorite Leaguers.

10. Night, or Day? You gotta pull this on me? I say dusk or early morning. :) But mostly day.

11. Favorite Pokemon? Luxray and Eevee! (All eeveeloutions count.)

12. Top 5 band/artist?

- George Harrison, or any Beatle (Them Guitar moves.)

- M83 (Good music)

- Billy Joel

- Porter Robinson

-Frank Sinatra and Nacy Sinatra

-(Extra one) Guns and Roses.

13. Top 10 Books?

Alright, Strap in.

- Book Theif

- The Return of the King (Any LOTR)

- Chronicles of Narnia

- The 5th Wave

- Giver books

- The Time Machine

- Temperst

- Lunar Chronicles

- Hamlet

- Where the Red Fern Grows

14. Top 6 Movies?

- Interstellar

- Ad Astra

- Godfather

- Back to the Future

- Wrath of Khan

- Casino Royale 007 or Enter the Dragon (Don’t at me)

15. America or Europe? AMERICA!

16. Tumblr or Twitter? Tumblr. Twitter doesn’t notice me. :’)

17. Pro-Choice or Pro-Life? Choice.

18. Favorite Youtuber? Markiplier, Pewdiepie, or

Micheal Reeves.

19. Favorite Author? Tolkien.

20. Tea, or Coffee? I like Tea a bit better but Coffee is nice.

21. OTP? Hon Hon Hon~ Sufin, Lava, Future, Halbarry, Halblazer, Boostle, Ameripan, and Spirk.

22. Do you play an Instrument or Sing? I mostly Sing, but I do play the flute and learning how to play the Guitar!

(I added a few.)

23. What languages do you speak or learning? I speak English, and is learning Swedish and Spanish.

24. Favorite TV shows? Ninjago, Star Trek, Stargate, JLU, Doom Patrol, and TCAP.

25. Favorite Food? Cheeseburgers, Cannolis, and Seafood! Also, Any kinda Pie!

[cherry-gemz]

The City by The Bay: Part II

Summary: Fates push you and a handsome and known stranger into each other's paths. His chilvary and good looks make you take a leap into his world and more.

Chapter Summary: You and Keanu get to know each other better.

Word Count: 2100 +/-

Pairing: Keanu Reeves x Y/N (F!Reader)

Rating: PG, fluff

A/N: First time taking a try on a Keanu fic, be nice, please! This little ficlet will have more chapters, hope you enjoy.

Who might be interested: @whiskeyslullabye​ @marissat1998 @aestheticallywinchester​ @fookingbitch​

Last chapter recap:

"Yeah...just around the corner. Did you...did you want to hang out for a bit? I mean, I didn't know if you were headed somewhere before I spilled your drink. What am I thinking? Of course you were off somewhere…"

"Are you always like this?" You giggle as you turn to head to the hall. 

"Like what?" 

"Nevermind, I'll be right back," you reply coyly. "And...I didn't have any plans today...I'd love to hang out."

"Really? Cool," Keanu responds and a grin appears on his face. 

"Yeah, I can't stay very long, however. I have a meeting with a client for lunch," you reply and he looks deflated. 

"Yeah, okay...well..hmmm," he says lost in thought. 

You feel stupid, you can't believe he wants to hang out with you and you're choosing work. You're really kicking yourself for even mentioning it. This opportunity will never happen again. 

"Well, I tell you what," he pipes. "I still owe you a cup of coffee. I happen to make the most amazing cappuccino. How about I start off with that?"

"Sure, that sounds lovely," you smile and his expression changes in a light-heartedness. 

"Great. Great, Y/N, head over to the kitchen after you change your shirt and we can get to know one another better."

You beam and head to the immaculate restroom. It’s very contemporary and the natural light from the ceiling windows are pretty to look at. As you unbutton your blouse you look at yourself in the mirror: you have a goofy grin and you can’t believe in you’re in Keanu’s house. Let alone, changing your shirt and going to hang out with him a bit. This is all surreal. 

You grasp his shirt and give it a sniff, clean. And you quickly put it over your head and leave the room with your blouse and book in your hand. As you turn the corner, you see him fiddling about and admire the open floor planned kitchen. You run your hand across the white, granite counters as he ushers you to have a seat at one of the barstools where you place your bag, the book he offered, and blouse down.

He claps his hands and rubs them as a cheshire cat grin appears on his face. 

"Okay, be ready to be blown away at these magic hands," he waggles his brows and holds out his large hands as you stifle a giggle. 

You'd watch interviews of him and he always seemed so genuine, and while he still does, there's a more childlike, goofiness that melts your heart a little more. You try not fall so quickly, but he really is quite loveable and easy to be around. Much different from the men you're accustomed to in the city. Their grittiness and quick paced talk tends to exhaust you. You're more in your element with one on one, in an intimate setting like today. It's ideal. 

Keanu grins and turns steadfast to the counter by the fridge and beelines to the espresso machine. He grabs a new bottle of water from the upper cabinets and places it in the boiler of the machine. You sit taller and try to peer over. You're never really that fancy with your coffee and it's usually due to the nature of your work and how quickly you need that caffeine fix, but you appreciate the art and look forward to his recipe. 

He continues his task at hand and opens a canister that's unmarked and pours two shots of ground espresso into the portafilter. He turns to you, to make sure you're watching as he plays along as if he's a magician and you're watching his act. 

"Secret recipe," he beams.

"What is it?" You ask inquisitively. 

He holds up his index finger and shakes it, "Na uh. If I gave that away, we could no longer be friends."

"Oh, we're friends are we?" You flirt and he blushes. You got him to blush!

He holds out the tamper he pulled out of the side drawer and presses the coffee three times to ensure it's packed tightly. 

He then places the portafilter into the espresso machine's group head and locks it in place by turning it to the right.

He continues his stride and places the tiny, white cup under the head for about 30 seconds. 

"Voilá!" He exclaims and you clap. He grabs a carton of cream from the fridge and you give him a puzzling look. Even as a chef, you're quite aware of the complexities of cream, so you're curious if this is part of the plan. He pours the cream into a small metal pitcher and inserts the steam wand. 

"Ah! Almost forgot…" he smacks his forehead with his free hand and goes to the cupboard and pulls out a jar. You notice it's sugar and he pinches a good handful in the metal pitcher and continues.

As the milk foams, he starts to pour it atop the cappuccino and walks over to give you the cup. 

"Mmmm, smells amazing. Thank you," you graciously accept the cup and take a sip. An explosion of the dark, roasted bean excited your taste buds. It's most likely hands down the best you've had. 

"Omigosh, Keanu. This is beyond good. I don't think I can ever go back to normal coffee again!" 

"Aw shucks, you'll give me a complex now," he teases. 

"Well if you ever decide to quit acting, I say you'd make a hell of a living doing that. Why, my bookstore would have lines out the door to see Keanu Reeves make them a cappuccino!"

He laughs heartily, "That would be a sight wouldn't it? Ah that's fantastic." 

You bring the cup to your nose as you try to make out the ingredients. You can tell there's a hint of spice and earth, and you take a guess of what he has mixed with the grounds. 

"Is there cocoa powder?" You look directly at him and he bites his lip.

"What are you doing?" He asks and shakes his index finger at you playfully and walks over to you. 

"Trying to figure out this recipe. You don't go tell a chef that it's a secret and expect them to not figure it out. I saw you toss in some sugar for the cream. And even noticed you use cream instead of milk. But I think it's cocoa...maybe even a hint of cinnamon?"

"What are you? Some super chef-dectective?" 

He dabs the frothy cream from your cup and places it on the tip of your nose, making you giggle. He licks his finger off and gives a sly smile.

"Maybe I have a profitable future ahead of me?" You lightly rub off the cream and gaze into his eyes.

"I think so Y/N, I think so." He shyly turns his eyes away and taps the side of the cup as if he's pondering a thought.

"So tell me," you gain confidence in speaking with him. "If you can make such a delicious cappuccino like this one, why were you at Saint Frank's?"

"Hah," he replies as he turns to start his own cup. "Flattery will get you everywhere."

You smile in-between another sip and notice he's flirting back.

"Well?" 

You prod and arch your brow as he leans his back against the counter. His black  shirt hugs his biceps as he crosses his arms, and the blue jeans he pairs it with fit him perfectly. His medium length hair seems to always get in his face, but it's endearing and he swipes away some strands. He's handsome without any effort and you slightly blush as your mind wanders about how his lips would feel against yours. 

"Honestly, I went out for a ride and needed to clear my head. I found myself just being pulled in that general direction and decided I needed a cup of joe," he says as he pours the cream for himself. 

"I guess it was you pulling me in or something,” he adds.

"So then what, it's like fate that we happened to be at the same place at that exact moment? And you happened to bump into me and make me spill my drink, therefore resulting in me jumping on your motorcycle with you. And then visit the home of a mega movie star and try the most fantastic cappuccino?" You laugh and he tilts his head earnestly. 

"What, you don't believe in fate, Y/N?"

"Not exactly," you reply. 

"Why not?" He walks over and sits next to you on the other barstool. 

"I mean, if it wasn't me, it'd be some other woman you'd be inviting over instead."

"No…" he replies as he takes a sip of his drink. "No, I don't think I would."

You both sit in silence for a minute, you sigh and then turn to look outside at the view. 

"I'm sorry, Y/N if I've seen to offend you. I can drive you back if you'd wish…" his voice softens and you can tell you hurt him a little. 

"What? No, Keanu. I'm...I'm sorry," you place your hand on his. His knuckles are worn and rough. He looks down at your hand and a small smile appears. 

"I...I want to be here, really I do. I guess I'm trying to make sense of it all. You're Keanu Reeves. And I'm just me. Why do you want to know me for?"

“Why wouldn’t I want to get to know you, Y/N? I am very glad we met. You're funny and kind... I'd like to get to know you further. Let alone, you're beautiful."

You blush and look away, he's not coming on strong, but could he be sending you signals that he's into you? Did you die and just find yourself in limbo with the angel before you?

"Do you want to go for a drive before I take you back?" He asks as you both notice you haven't lifted your hand on his. You quickly remove it and place it in your lap. 

"Sure, but this time please wear a helmet. I was worried sick thinking if something terrible might happen." 

He softly chuckles, "Of course, I have many in my garage to choose from. Curious though, is it because you care about me, Y/N?"

"Oh believe me, more than you know," you quickly cover your hands over your mouth as you realize what you've said. 

He kicks his lips and tries to brush it off. 

"I'm sorry," you apologize. "I really should use my filter from time to time."

"No need for apologies. Your truthfulness is refreshing."

"Well I have a lot of that. Probably more than I should. I bet you find in your line of work it's difficult to find people you can trust."

"Yeah, I definitely have a close knit of friends through the years. Do you have family here?"

"Yes, born and reared in the Bay," you say with confidence. "I went to culinary school in New York for a minute, however. But there's something about this city that's magical."

"So you believe in magic, but not fate?"

You laugh, "Okay, you got me there."

He finishes off his cappuccino and motions to ask if you're finished, which you nod and hand him your cup. He walks over to the sink and rinses out the cups. It's fascinating to watch him do mundane things like wash dishes. 

"I am beginning to enjoy the city. There is much richness to it and the landmarks are beautiful. I will be honest though, I haven't had much time to explore like I usually like to do when I'm on location." 

He places the cups back in the cupboard and dries his hands with a cream colored terry cloth. 

"You did mention you had a project up here. Mind if I ask what?"

His eyes light up as if he were a kid on Christmas Day expecting all the joys of the morning. 

"Oh well it's not for a movie. I'm not filming yet...least as far as I know. My agent, Meredith keeps me up on that."

"If not a movie, then…?"

"A book," he replies. 

"You're not giving me much here, buddy," you laugh as he joins you. 

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I...it's just something dear to me that I've been working on and haven't really announced anything yet."

"Look, I get it. Don't worry, no pressure, you reply as you start to get up.

"Well it's not that," he gestures a stopping signal with his hand. "I... I really don't know what it's about it. I'm collaborating with a friend of mine, a photographer. And we are in the early stages, that's all."

"Oh well it sounds great," you say enthusiastically. 

"Yeah...I feel good y'know? I feel like I'm doing something different and that I can connect to people on a different level."

"Keanu...the influencer," you say as you raise your hands up in the air as if an imaginary marquee is right before your eyes. 

"Haha, I wouldn't go that far. But, I'll have to keep you posted." 

"Yeah, that would be great," you cringe. Great. Everything is great. Why are you being such a spaz?

He doesn't notice, but he gets quiet again and you don't know what to do next. Silence sometimes makes you feel awkward and now throw in the ridiculously nice and dreamy man in front of you and you're a ball of nerves.

He seems relaxed, however. In tune with himself and surroundings. 

He smiles and holds out his hand, "C'mon. Let's get going on that ride. I'll take you to one of my favorite spots in the house besides the library...the garage. Oh, and don't forget your book."

You nod as you place it in your bag and accept his hand and hope to never let go.

[lunarsaturn88]

Let’s do the time warp again!

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1,201

Warning(s): Rocky Horror Picture Show meets Supernatural

Song will be in italics.

  Your POV: Dean and I were driving around in a storm. Thunder booming loudly, sounding like canons being shot. Lightening lighting up the sky, flashing up for a few seconds. The clouds lighting up, lightening bolts flying across the sky.

 Dean and I were currently driving back to the bunker but we got caught in a bad thunder storm, we were currently driving through Denton, Ohio.

  Dean: Y/n, We have to find a motel or sleep in the car. I can’t see the road.

You: Dean, I see a castle, pull there and we’ll see if there is someone home.

Dean: Okay.

  Inside the castle

Riff Raff: Hello.

You: Hello.

  Riff Raff lets you and Dean inside, then a red hair maid comes toward you. A red hair maid comes you guys and smiles, her hair sticking out and her lip stick the colour like blood. 

Riff Raff then walks to a clock with a skeleton in it.

It's astounding;

Time is fleeting; Madness takes its toll. But listen closely...

Not for very much longer.

I've got to keep control.

I remember doing the time-warp

Drinking those moments when

The Blackness would hit me

  You and Dean look at each other, you both have never seen anything like this before. I mean sure you both had hunted a freakin centaur. You both then killed a family of witches who made Dean forget who he was.

 And the void would be calling...

You and Dean run, then you both run into a room where there was other people, they were in black pants, dance shoes, black jackets, glasses, hats and dress shirts.

Let's do the time-warp again.

Let's do the time-warp again

It's just a jump to the left

And then a step to the right

Put your hands on your hips.

You bring your knees in tight.

But it's the pelvic thrust

That really drives you insane.

Let's do the time-warp again.

Let's do the time-warp again.

You and Dean then started walking backward then you both heard Magenta.

  It's so dreamy, oh fantasy free me.

So you can't see me, no, not at all.

In another dimension, with

voyeuristic intention,

Well secluded, I see all.

With a bit of a mind flip

You're into the time slip

And nothing can ever be the same.

You're spaced out on sensation.

Like you're under sedation.

Let's do the time-warp again.

Let's do the time-warp again

  You and Dean were so freaked out, that you both didn’t even notice a girl with short red hair, clown like makeup, sparkling yellow shoes, almost like the red slippers from The Wizard Of Oz, a sparkling yellow jacket, a colorful sparkling vest and a sparkling top hat.

  Dean: Y/n, we gotta get out of here.

You: I kinda wish we stayed in the car.

  Well I was walking down the street

just a-having a think

When a snake of a guy gave me an

evil wink.

He shook-a me up, he took me by surprise.

He had a pickup truck, and the

devil's eyes.

He stared at me and I felt a change.

Time meant nothing, never would again.

  You and Dean were even more freaked out, you both wanted to get out of the castle as fast as possible.

  Let's do the time-warp again.

Let's do the time-warp again.

It's just a jump to the left.

And then a step to the right.

Put your hands on your hips

You bring your knees in tight.

But it's the pelvic thrust

That really drives you insane.

Let's do the time-warp again.

Let's do the time-warp again.

Everyone then dramatically falls to the ground.

  Dean: HEY!

Everyone looks at Dean and you.

  Dean; Anybody know where we can use a god damn phone?!

  Everyone then started getting up, you and Dean walks backward, Dean has his hand on your hand tight. Then you turn around and see a guy with black hair, make up and a cape and high heel shoes.

  How do you do I see you've met my faithful handyman He's just a little brought down because When you knocked

  This weird man then walks into the room where everyone else was, you and Dean follow and watch this guy…perform.

He thought you were the candyman Don't get strung out by the way I look

Don't judge a book by it's cover

I'm not much of a man by the light of day

But by night I'm one hell of a lover

  Just then this weird guy takes off his cape and is in a sex outfit almost. You look at Dean and Dean looks more freaked out than ever.

I'm just a sweet transvestite

From Transexual, Transylvania

  Let me show you around, maybe play you a sound

You look like you're both pretty groovy

Or if you want something visual

That's not too abysmal

We could take in an old Steeve Reeves movie

  Dean: Look here buddy. My girlfriend and I are looking for a phone. I need to call my brother and our cell phones are dead.

  Many people were saying “Great work Dr. Frank N. Furter.”

Then he gets some water, drinks it then throws it.

  Well you got caught with a flat

Well how 'bout that

Well babies don't you panic

By the light of the night

It'll all seem alright

I'll get you a Satanic mechanic

  Frank then walks toward the chair at the front, the blonde guy who let you and Dean follows him, the red hair maid follows and the other girl follow as well.

  I'm just a sweet transvestite

From Transexual, Transylvania

Why don't you stay for the night

Riff Raff: Night!

  Or maybe a bite

  Columbia: Bite!

  I could show you my favorite obsession

I've been making a man

With blonde hair and a tan

And he's good for relieving my tension

I'm just a sweet transvestite

From Transexual, Transylvania

Hit it! Hit it!

I'm just a sweet transvestite

Sweet Transvestite!

From Transexual

Transylvania

  Frank then goes to the elevator, he then turns to face everyone.

  Frank: So come up to the lab

And see what's on the slab

I see you shiver with antici... Pation

But maybe the rain

Isn't really to blame

So I'll remove the cause

But not the symptom.

  You and Dean went to the lab, you saw a huge tank thing and there a person wrapped in bandages, looking like a mummy pretty much.

  Then a light lowered to the tank, Frank was putting in different colours, then a blonde, muscular guy grabbed onto the lights and ran around the lab.

  8 hours later

You and Dean run to baby and drive fast as you watch the castle or spaceship fly as you both saw Columbia, Rocky and Dr. Frank N Ferter die. Riff Raff and Magenta were aliens and they were angry that Frank had failed his mission.

You and Dean drove fast and you both found a motel and you both went to sleep and wished that you both never went to that castle.