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retrievablememories · 1 year

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cherry bomb | jungkook (m)

pairing: jungkook x fem reader

summary: “get fucked or die” becomes the motto to live by when a serial killer begins targeting virgins on your campus.

genre: smut, horror/slasher, college!au

word count: 7.1k

warnings: multiple minor character deaths, blood, gore, violence (including gun and knife use), mentions of alcohol consumption. virgin-shaming and slut-shaming, oral (fem receiving), riding, virgin!reader, first-time sex, protected sex, hair-pulling, biting, fingering, dirty talk, virgin kink/corruption kink, fuckboy JK. is JK a sub or a masochist here? answer: i don’t fucking know!

a/n: inspired by the movie cherry falls (2000). heed the warnings. remember that this is fiction, not meant to be entirely realistic, and characters' views/actions don't represent my own. if this kind of content is not up your alley just block me or make use of the wonderful filtering option in your account settings

sources for the fic dividers: one | two

link to part 2

CHERRY BOMB

don't wanna die? come out and hook up with a sexy girl or guy.

virgins get in free!

THIS FRIDAY

NOV 3, 20XX

[address here]

"very corny." you shake your head, looking at the party flyer in your hands. you'd just torn it down from the bulletin board in your dorm lobby; unauthorized advertisements aren’t allowed, and your job as RA involves these menial-ass tasks. "this is literally life or death...why are they turning it into a joke?"

"it is a joke," your friend camille says, snatching the flyer out of your hands to look it over. "think about it. 10 students get killed since we came back in august, and the semester isn't even over yet. the school administration and local police haven't done nearly enough to address it or stop any more deaths. and the common denominator is that all these people were suspected or confirmed virgins?” you haven’t seen the evidence yourself, but the daughter of one of the local policemen claimed every victim also had virgin carved into some part of their dead body. “yeah, i'd say it's a joke to pretty much everyone at this point. this is what happens when you let the students come up with a solution."

camille hands the flyer back to you, and you hold it limply. "but...it's not like you can look at someone and tell if they're a virgin. the killer must've known them all personally. it just doesn't make sense."

"some of those people had no mutual friends. nothing connecting them whatsoever. not even shared extracurriculars. it's gotta be a perverted stalker with a fetish, maybe. a scorned hacker who somehow got into their private conversations 'n' shit? or maybe he consulted the cards to know who’d fucked before and who hadn’t.”

“oh please.” you scoff. “now you’re being completely ridiculous. tarot cards aren’t gonna tell you if someone’s a virgin or not.”

“then you come up with a better explanation. either way, these folks—" camille points to the flyer "—aren't taking their chances."

"hm..." you keep staring at the flyer, looking at the shiny-red cherries, condoms, sex toys, and other sex-related objects decorating the paper. whoever designed this really wasn't playing.

"so, are you gonna go?" camille asks with a sidelong glance. "free admittance, after all."

your neck burns under the collar of your shirt. "are you?" neither of you have had sex yet, for differing reasons. camille's reason was almost complete indifference to the whole act.

she gives you a look that says i could give a shit. "...you know the answer to that one, dear. so you're not even thinking about it? as much as you have cried to me and lorelai about not being able to find a man you like enough to give it up for, our killer here probably already knows. you practically have a ‘come kill me’ bullseye on your back.”

"i don't know," you say, because you genuinely are thinking about it. “and stop trying to fucking scare me.” despite your logical brain trying to reason with you, you still feel a sense of underlying terror about being the next victim. "the virgin killer," as they'd nicknamed the freak, clearly prefers a specific type of victim, and all kills have been random and unpredictable other than that—and the fact that every victim attended your university. he also seems partial to using a knife on his victims, but even that isn’t guaranteed—3 of the 10 had been killed in ways other than stabbing. "i don’t know why you’re so nonchalant about this, though."

camille shrugs. "if he comes for me, i'll just spray him with my illegal mace and kick his nuts into his throat. then tie him up and wait for my dad to come blow his head off. there are some advantages to having a gun nut for a dad."

you chuckle at the absurdity of it. "you've got it all planned out, then."

FRIDAY, NOV 3

taking a rideshare to the party was a smart idea on lorelai's part, because the two little shots you took to pre-game already have you feeling woozy. or maybe it's just your nerves.

the cherry bomb is located at a mansion that isn’t really a mansion, but a large once-abandoned house one of the fraternities fixed up years ago for throwing off-campus parties.

the party is stacked wall to wall with people when you enter, though from what you can see, no one has actually started fucking yet—maybe they're saving that for the supposed orgy later in the night. you just hope you can get someone in one of the backrooms before that happens, because you're not really keen on having everyone in your class knowing what your tits look like.

you have one simple mission here tonight—lose your long-held virginity and get off the virgin killer's radar. once that's done, you'll make your exit.

"actually, i'm surprised anyone else showed up. other than you, who wants to willingly admit that they're still a virgin in college?" lorelai shudders. you roll your eyes and try not to feel offended, sucking your teeth.

"you were more than welcome to stay back at the dorm."

"no! i'm here for moral support, plus i don't want to be alone tonight. i don't care who this killer targets, it's getting too crazy out here to just be letting your guard down anymore."

well, you won't argue that.

you and lorelai dance to the song booming over the multiple speakers, scanning the room for potential hookups all the while. you become more alert when you recognize a familiar length of black hair coming through the front door, plus the tattoos and piercings to match.

you're not surprised jungkook came. he has his pick of untouched and easily corruptible virgins here, which has always been his thing; you've heard him brag about it to his seatmates more than once in your shared elective. not to mention the stories you've heard from the women who actually fucked him. as far as you could figure, it was the usual male ego posturing bullshit about being able to say he was someone’s first—and likely best. for that reason, alarm rises when he makes eye contact and starts making a beeline for where you and lorelai are.

"oh, here comes the campus bicycle," lorelai says, voice deadpan.

you continue watching him from the corner of your eye, trying to see if he's just approaching someone in your general vicinity, but no. once he shoves his way through the crowd of dancers, some unashamedly groping at his body as he does, he stops right in front of you two.

"so, are you here for the same reason i am?" he asks you, grinning like the devil himself. "or are you looking to get that sweet little cherry popped?"

the backs of your knees sweat. "um—latter, i guess." you hadn't meant to answer that honestly, but to say you are caught off-guard is understating it. you can count on one hand the number of times you and jungkook have talked to each other in class, and never about anything of this nature.

"you're not gonna ask me?" lorelai says.

jungkook gives a hearty laugh; you didn't think it was that funny. "everyone knows you're not a virgin, why waste my time?"

"wow, okay. fuck you. you're no saint yourself." she huffs.

"anyway…" jungkook returns his attention to you. "have you really never done anything before? not even sucked a dick? there's no way someone hasn't tried to hit that. not even some 'backdoor action only' like those weird religious girls?"

"is that any of your business? i didn't know we had to give a rundown of our lack of sexual experience before getting laid around here." you snap.

jungkook's eyelids lower a fraction. "i'm tryna decide how easy i should go on you, babe. i mean, if you wanna take this in one of the rooms. otherwise, i'll let someone else have a go if you're not interested."

unfortunately, you are interested, despite his overly blunt manner and objectifying language. even though you know you’ll just become another entry on his long list of flings—someone he’ll tell his boys about later—maybe the fear of death is making you impulsive.

but maybe his looks are playing a part in it, too.

he's imposing with his physique and his all-black attire, his shirt so tight that you can clearly see his pectoral muscles and his nipples, his unbuttoned leather jacket doing nothing to hide those details. you can easily imagine yourself running your hands across those pecs, squeezing them, rubbing your fingers against his nipples and making him moan underneath you, feeling and seeing his abs contract through this stupid-ass shirt that must've been painted on. this brief fantasy immediately dampens your panties.

"…i'm interested," you affirm, dragging your gaze back up to his eyes, and he smirks from knowing you were obviously checking him out.

knowing the direction this is going in, lorelai taps you on the back and whispers in your ear. “have fun but don’t do anything stupid, yeah? i’m not playing auntie to any offspring you and this dude pop out, sis. use protection.” then she makes her exit to go find herself a partner for the night.

“so, come on.” jungkook nods his head in the direction of the stairs, and you follow him through the crowd as he leads you up the winding staircase. you squeeze past two girls kissing on the staircase railing, their motions a bit unsure as if they’ve never done it before but clearly still enjoying themselves.

jungkook pushes a few doors in until he finds an empty room, and you try not to ogle at the random couples you see along the way. not even an hour in and the two shots must be wearing off, because your body is beginning to buzz with nervousness again.

jungkook closes the door behind him when you both step into the room, which is lit by one lamp on a nightstand and the open window beside the bed. he reaches for you, and you shiver when his hand grasps the side of your face, the other snaking around your waist.

“scared?” he asks, his voice low. you shake your head, and he grins. “relax.” he leans in as if to kiss you and you part your lips, but he doesn’t do that just yet. he traces your top lip and then your bottom lip with his tongue, dipping it into your mouth as he switches. the teasing nature of his actions makes your body heat up as you watch a string of saliva spread and then break between the both of you.

he presses back in for a real kiss this time, his nose bumping yours. despite all your fears about tonight, you’re able to unwind somewhat and just focus on the full sensory experience that is this kiss—the warmth of his hands and his mouth, the sappy sound your lips make when they separate and come back together, the scent of his cologne, the taste of his spearmint-flavored tongue.

you find yourselves inching toward the bed, him walking you backwards while keeping you steady. just as the backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed, there's the sound of a woman's bloodcurdling scream from behind you, and you nearly shove jungkook to the ground in your haste to run to the door. your fingers are scrabbling at the doorknob when you hear a burst of laughter. a guy you don't recognize crawls out from under the bed holding his phone up, displaying a youtube video of the shower scene in the movie psycho, which is where the noise is coming from.

"that was funny as fuck." the guy laughs obnoxiously loud, holding his stomach. “don’t get too carefree or you just might die, girlie.”

jungkook grabs the guy by his jacket collar like he's a kid and throws him out the door; the guy doesn't object because he knows this is preferable to getting his ass beaten by the bigger man. "fuck outta here, you jackass." jungkook snaps.

jungkook stomps over to the closet to yank it open. "any more idiots in here wanna show themselves?" he checks a couple more areas before deciding the room is clear and closing the door again, locking it for good measure.

“okay.” he sighs, stripping off his jacket and shoes. he takes your hand and pulls you toward him as he sits on the bed. “relax, baby. forget about that fucking clown. come ‘ere. why don’t you sit on my lap?”

with a heavy exhale, you try to steady your still-shaking hands as you shuck your boots off and pull your dress up slightly to comfortably sit in his lap, your legs loosely wrapped around his waist.

he squeezes your waist. “so, where were we? i don’t really remember…”

you huff out a half-amused laugh. “really? i’m pretty sure it was this…” you lean forward with your hands on his shoulders and press your lips back onto his. jungkook follows in kind, his hands running up from your thighs to your waist and back again. the rhythm of his hands is hypnotic, distracting you as you try to keep most of your focus on the kiss, and you fear you may be getting overstimulated before anything has truly began.

as you continue kissing, jungkook’s hands creep your dress further up your thighs until your panties are revealed. still feeling up your legs, his hands press further toward your inner thighs, and you gasp into the kiss when his thumb pushes against the seat of your underwear. they have been damp for a while now and you know he knows this, so you aren’t surprised when he breaks the kiss to smirk, though it makes you roll your eyes.

jungkook whispers against your lips, “let’s try something. will you sit on my face?” you stare at him without a word, not expecting this to be the first thing he proposes. at your response, or lack of, he adds, “i want to make you feel good. do you want me to taste you?” his voice is so soft, so unassuming and cloying, that it makes you feel like a lamb clutched gently in the mouth of a wolf.

your brain is already surrendering to it. “yes.”

you get another kiss and a smile. jungkook moves you out of his lap, shuffles further up the bed, and lies down so that he’s flat on his back, his head surrounded by the pillows. he gestures for you to follow.

taking your time, you slide your panties off and crawl up the bed until you’re near his face and he’s lying below you looking like he’s struck gold. he grabs your hips to bring you closer until you’re right over his mouth. you’re embarrassed to have someone looking at you from this angle for the first time, and you’re about to get too into your head about it when he french kisses your inner thigh, blanking out your mind.

the only thing you know from then on is that his mouth is burning hot. his tongue is everywhere. he licks at you delicately to test the waters, and then more firmly when your thighs tremble around his head, in an effort to elicit the same response.

the way he fits his mouth over your entire pussy and sucks it with just the right amount of pressure so that it won’t hurt makes you feel faint. the way he slides the flat of his tongue over your clit only to suck it gently at the end of the stroke makes you cry out louder than you intended. you’re glad he moved further up the bed for this, because you’re holding onto the headboard for dear life.

the only things you’re aware of are your own out-of-control moans and the wet sounds of jungkook’s mouth working you over. all of it has you so overwrought that you’re already reaching your peak, your grip on the headboard weakening.

jungkook seems to know this without you telling him anything. he pauses and looks up at you with a fucked-out smirk and a wet mouth. you don’t know whether to thank him or curse him for giving you a break. “before you come, fuck my face.”

“wh-what?”

“rub that wet fucking cunt on my face.” heat flares through your body at his frank words. “grab my hair and just ride my face.” he reaches up to take your hands off the headboard and places them in his hair. “you can do it, baby. fucking use me.”

it takes you a minute to get over the fresh wave of embarrassment and find a pace that works, because the connection between your brain and body feels like it’s frying and your coordination is off. jungkook helps guide your hips, especially with how you’re trembling from pleasure and close to falling apart. soon enough, you’re letting go of yourself and moving your hips enthusiastically, if a little clumsily, and chasing your climax. you savor the feel of your clit sliding across his wet tongue and his soft hair in between your fingers, and you push his head as close as it can get.

you come while screaming, dizzyingly immersed in the pleasure. you forget that you’re holding his hair as you yank roughly on it. the only thing that matters to you is that jungkook’s mouth is still sucking your clit through the best physical sensation you’ve ever experienced.

when he finally lets go and gives you reprieve, you collapse beside him on the pillows.

“i’m sorry,” you mumble, disoriented. “about your hair, i mean?”

jungkook laughs. it’s funny how shiny-wet his face is—and that you caused it, which is kind of hard to believe in the aftermath of it. “the pain is what gets my dick hard. don’t worry.”

you chuckle breathlessly at that, and for a few seconds you both have that funny little moment to yourselves in all the ridiculousness of the overarching situation.

then jungkook’s hand is reaching for you again. “i’m not done with that pussy yet, though.” he brushes a finger over your hole, and your body twitches from the sensitivity. he slides that finger through the wetness and then uses the lubrication to push only the tip of his finger in. he dips it in and out, teasing the nerves at your entrance, until you’re shifting your hips closer to him to implore him for more. he grants your request by sliding his finger all the way inside.

having a finger inside you feels okay at first, though not as good as his actions a few seconds ago. jungkook decides to amplify your pleasure by placing his lips on your neck, leaving gentle and wet kisses behind, and you become all too aware of the feeling of your hardened nipples against the material of your dress. the pleasure begins to heighten when his finger finds a place inside of you that makes you throb, your walls clenching around him.

“ah…” you gasp and shift eagerly against his body as he keeps stimulating that spot, not thrusting his finger into you but simply stroking it across that area in a come here motion.

jungkook pulls away from your neck to smile at his handiwork. “that’s better, right?” he whispers, watching your reactions. your lips form around the word yes, though it’s difficult to try to speak, and you worry how unsteady your voice might sound. he waits until you’re clutching at his arm, leaving red lines on his skin from your fingernails, to carefully push another finger in beside the first. you try to breathe evenly, though his refusal to let up on that spot has your lungs stuttering for air all over again. his nose nudges your ear as he leans even closer and whispers, “there are so many different spots to find, so many different ways to make you come; i wanna go looking for them all.”

jungkook angles his hand so that his palm is also stimulating your clit, his fingers thrusting slowly now. you turn your head away from him as your body becomes ablaze, unsure what to do with yourself as your climax nears quickly.

“would you let me do that? learn your body like no one else has done?” he kisses the shell of your ear, and even that small action is enough to tip you closer to the edge with how your body is already so fired up. “who else could make you feel as good?”

this orgasm makes your eyes fill with involuntary tears, and little clear droplets bleed down the sides of your face and towards your ears as your body convulses. jungkook kisses the wet trails they make on your face, still fingering you steadily and forcing another urgent cry out of you. you feel untethered from yourself, like you’re not in control of your reactions, and you don’t know whether to be afraid of that or not.

jungkook pulls his fingers out when you have mostly calmed down, watching strands of your wetness drip between them before sliding them into his mouth.

after you come the second time, you begin to tire. the deeds have been done, and if you want, you can confidently go back out to the party now and say you’re no longer a virgin; you’re off the unofficial kill list and can live the rest of your days without having to look over your shoulder with every breath.

…but jungkook is hard against your hip, and in all honesty, you don’t want to leave without knowing what his dick looks and feels like.

“you tired?” he asks, and the casual air of it makes your stomach flip, for some reason. he says it as if this is something you two do all the time and he’s used to asking you this after wearing you out during a good session.

but now’s not the time to get delusional.

“no. i want more.”

jungkook smiles broadly, teasing his lip ring with his teeth. he sits up to peel that skin-tight shirt off, and you don’t bother to stop yourself from staring at all that skin in front of you. your eyes drop further down when he removes his belt and undoes his jeans, pushing his pants and underwear down enough for you to see his v-line but not taking them off. is that an invitation for you to do it? "you hold the reins here," he says, lying back on the bed again. "do whatever you want to me."

“whatever i want?” you repeat, already sitting up. he nods, hands behind his head, and you take the initiative to straddle him again, knowing you’re getting his jeans wet.

you reach for his pecs first, just like you’d imagined downstairs. the firm muscle of them is mesmerizing; but when you slowly circle your thumb against his nipple and his eyes flutter, a small and breathy moan escaping his lips, you’re sure you enjoy this much more.

you play with his nipples and even work up the boldness to purse your lips around one, sucking it softly, and every noise that arises from him makes your clit tingle.

you eventually move your hands to his abs, enjoying how they flex at your touch. you didn't think his navel would be pierced, not hearing that detail in any of the sex tales you've eavesdropped on about jungkook, and you wonder what else you might find out about him tonight.

“you should do your nipples to match.” you suggest it without much thought as you’re teasing his navel piercing, though you don’t regret saying it.

“would you be into that?” jungkook sounds like he’s actually considering it, watching you from below his lashes.

you grin. you don’t know if you’ll actually end up having sex with him again to see them, but you answer, “i’d love it…it’d be sexy on you.”

sliding your hands further down still, you come to the waistband of his underwear, which is peeking over the top of his lowered jeans. for a second the nervousness returns; jungkook notices how your hands twitch with hesitation. “it’s fine, i’m not gonna bite you…unless you ask me to, though. here.”

he slips a hand into his underwear and grips his dick, though he doesn’t take it out right away; he strokes the shaft a few times, observing your reaction with expectant and hazy eyes. the scene before you makes your mouth dry. jungkook quickens his pace, twisting his hand at the tip and using his own precum as lube, until you are overcome with the desire to see it and you pull his underwear out of the way.

his cock is thick and flushed and glossy with precum. you don’t have much to compare it to, but it’s a good size, and all the previous women have said that he clearly knows what to do with it. he releases it and it slaps against his abs, leaving a streak of precum behind. when you look at him in anticipation of what he’ll do next, he grasps it again and starts stroking himself quickly, like he’s trying to get off. the wet slap of his motions and his quiet groans make your walls clench.

“i could keep fucking myself and you could watch, since you seem to prefer it…” he murmurs.

“no, i—let’s go all the way.”

jungkook smirks and answers your decision by pulling a condom out of his jean pocket. you watch as he unwraps it and slips it down his cock. though you’re already straddling him, he grasps your wrist and encourages you to draw nearer to him. “come here, pretty thing.”

when you’re hovering directly over him, jungkook grips the base and teases his tip against your entrance. “ready?” he asks.

“yeah,” you say breathlessly.

it’s a little slow-going, but you eventually end up with him seated inside you. it’s uncomfortable to be taking something bigger than a couple fingers, but it isn’t terribly painful.

“now, try moving your hips like this…” with his hands on your hips, jungkook helps you grind against him so that your clit slides across his pubic bone with every move. the discomfort begins to ebb out of your mind after a little while of doing this, and you laugh quietly.

“i thought…i thought this doesn’t feel good for men,” you sigh, your eyes closing from the bliss of his firm abdomen stimulating your clit. “this grinding thing, you know. or so a friend told me…”

jungkook laughs too, but he doesn’t confirm it like you expect him to. his only answer is, “a sexy woman on my dick will always feel good.”

he seems to be more about showing than telling, anyway. his hands reach for your breasts, groping them over the fabric of your dress before sliding underneath for better access. sporadic moans escape you as he plays with your nipples, making your clit throb harder and sending more warmth pooling in your abdomen.

your breath wheezes out of you when jungkook starts pushing up into you, his hands still squeezing your breasts. “you’re okay, baby…” he tries a few different angles until he pulls a visceral reaction out of you, your walls fluttering around him and your body shivering intensely. “mmm, there it is.”

your motions start tapering off as jungkook continues thrusting up against that same spot that had you in tears earlier. noticing this, he slips one hand back down to your hip and encourages you to maintain your pace, keeping your clit stimulated while meeting his thrusts. “you’re doing good…” he murmurs. “go ahead, keep fucking me just like that.”

you’re glad lorelai makes you go to the campus gym with her every week, because otherwise you’d be about to collapse riding him for this long. it takes more of your strength and stamina than you’d expected. no wonder jungkook stays in the gym.

“oh, fuck…” the way all his muscles flex as he repeatedly pushes up into you makes you wetter; you no longer have the wherewithal to be embarrassed about the gushy noises your pussy is creating. your whole world has whittled down to this one room, and all you can think about is your next orgasm.

“pull my hair again,” he requests, his eyes dark and lost in lust when he looks up at you.

"jungkook..." you grip his sweaty hair in your hand and pull it to bare his throat, and he gives a desperate moan, his member jerking inside you. you've never felt so in control of a situation before in your life. it gives you a straight adrenaline-slash-dopamine rush.

his neck is just there and exposed, flushed from exertion, and his physical responses make you feel so primal, like you could do absolutely anything to him right now and he’d enjoy it. because of this, you decide to bite his neck, if only to give your mouth something to do. his dick twitches again when you do, another pretty moan leaving his mouth.

his voice is strained when he says, “bite me harder.” when you let go, your mouth travels the expanse of his neck to leave marks in a few other places, digging in harder just as he asked of you.

“fuck, y/n—” the pain of your teeth is pushing him close to the edge too soon, so he slips his other hand out from under your dress and brings it lower to circle his fingers over your clit. jungkook adding his experienced fingers to his constant stimulation of your g-spot is enough to cause your release. your body slumps onto his as you squeeze around him, your head falling into the juncture of his neck and shoulder and your eyes shutting so tightly that you see wobbling shapes in the darkness.

jungkook gives you a few more thrusts rougher than the rest, causing you to cry out. your climax and the aftershocks have your mind so dizzy that you only just realize that he’s reaching his own peak, his muscles tensing and relaxing as he fills the condom with his cum. you hear him groan next to your ear, the sound of it filthy and uninhibited.

jungkook lifts your head from his shoulder, his thumbs on your cheeks, and his lips meet yours in a final slow kiss, his teeth leaving their mark on your bottom lip as a parting reminder.

you're still trying to get your bearings and slide him out of you when jungkook suddenly says, "what is that noise?"

"huh?" you remain immobile for a moment so you can listen more clearly, and you recognize the sounds of screaming and feet pounding on the floors in a bid to run away—both upstairs and downstairs. these don't sound like the same screams of pleasure from earlier. "what the hell?"

you and jungkook scramble to collect your clothes and get dressed, thankful that neither of you stripped down completely, and he throws the used condom into a random corner of the room. you're still making last minute adjustments when jungkook stands up and unlocks the door.

"the fuck is—?" his voice cuts off as if he can't finish his thought.

"what? what is it?" you stand up to get a better view around his body in the doorway, and you scream when you see a lone blonde girl lying a few feet away from the door, slumped against the opposite wall with a slashed throat. her pink party dress bleeds red, and her face that catches the illumination of the string lights glints with tear tracks. you look away from her unseeing eyes before you can cry out again.

jungkook seems confused, peering down the other end of the hallway like there'll be someone there to explain. "it...didn't work?" he asks to no one in particular, as you have no answer. you walk farther back into the room as if putting more distance between you and the body will provide some protection. bumping against the window sill, you turn around to look out the window and see several cars peeling out of the makeshift grass parking lot, nearly running over other people or hitting other cars on the way. you release a stifled scream from behind your hands when someone is too disoriented to get out of the way of the speeding cars and is sent flying through the air before landing painfully, their body now unmoving. the offending car never stops to check on them.

the screaming downstairs worsens, countless voices rising to a fever pitch of shouting and wailing, and you imagine this must be what the pits of hell sound like. jungkook whips around to look at you. “we gotta get the fuck out of here.”

you two inch out of the room with him in the lead, peering into jarred-open doorways to see if anybody could be waiting in the shadows. there are a couple of other bodies in two other rooms, and you wonder—even with the loud music constantly reverberating through the house, did you really not hear the struggles that led to these deaths in your throes of passion? the thought unnerves you. the idea that maybe you were only saved by jungkook deciding to lock the door…

the stair railing you’d walked by an hour ago is now broken in the middle, splinters of wood lying scattered on the stairs, along with more bodies lying on the steps just as haphazardly. the scene looks like the remnants of a stampede; you hope most of these people are just unconscious and not dead.

the dancefloor is a swarm of people in various states of undress pushing and pulling each other as they rush for the exit. there’s not as many people heading for the back door, everyone attempting to squeeze through the main entrance in their unthinking panic, so jungkook grabs your arm and the two of you pick your way through the bodies to get down the stairs as best you can. when you enter the mass of people, you’re exceptionally glad for his strength because it’s easier to get through the opposing crowd.

to reach the back door, you must first get through the kitchen. beside the kitchen entrance in a dark corner, you see someone doubled over and grasping the person in front of them for stability.

you realize belatedly that they have a knife in their stomach; the other person standing over them is the virgin killer himself, calmly watching them suffer.

the killer’s face is hidden by the mask he always wears, which you are seeing for the first time now, up-close—a hairy werewolf head with lemon-yellow eyes and a candy-red tongue. it’s so unexpected that you would’ve found it comedic if not for the context.

a guy in a blue sweater grasps the killer from behind in an attempted surprise attack, causing him to jerk the knife out of the other person’s stomach. the sudden movement causes a spray of blood to come flying off the knife, and you have to hold back vomit when drops of the warm, stinking crimson hit your face. though it feels like time has slowed to a mere creep, all of this happens within seconds.

you don’t see much more before jungkook is forcing you to move again.

you, jungkook, and multiple others barrel out of the back patio door, nearly ripping the flimsy screen door off its hinges in your haste, while the classmate in the blue sweater fruitlessly struggles with the killer in the kitchen. your leg muscles flex harder when you hear the person's agonized shout and the mushy rip of flesh being torn seconds later. almost everyone else has taken the same idea to run for their lives rather than stay and try to fight or disarm the killer; the streets are dotted in every direction with students running for any possible safety, many not having arrived to the party in cars to escape in.

thankfully, jungkook is not one of them.

he grasps your wrist painfully hard in his panic and yanks you in the direction of his car, which is so pitch black that you almost didn't see it sitting in the shadows.

when you get inside, you've never been so grateful to be within the safe metal enclosure of a car in your whole life. hands shaking, jungkook jams the key into the ignition and presses the gas pedal so hard your head jerks against the headrest. however, in your temporary relief, you think of lorelai. your vision doubles as you scramble to open your phone and call her, your head spinning with a new spike of fear. it rings for a while with no answer, and you try two more times only to get the same result.

"maybe she got to safety somewhere else?” jungkook tries to reason with you, his eyes bouncing between your face and the road ahead so he doesn't hit any other cars or any random students still running across the streets. "i didn't see her anywhere in the house before we ran out."

"that just means she could be hiding somewhere in there!" you shriek, unable to control your terror at your friend possibly being trapped in the house with the killer.

"well—maybe just let her stick it out, he won't find her if she just—"

"oh god, but i called her like three fucking times; what if he heard the phone ringing? i'm gonna kill myself."

“y/n, you’re overreacting like shit, there’s no way he’d hear a phone ringing in all that noise—"

unlistening, you drop your phone and bang your fists on your head in frustration and anguish.

sighing deeply, jungkook forgoes any attempt to do a 3-point turn, which requires more coordination than he has at the moment, and drives straight up into someone's yard to make a U-turn back toward the house.

you hadn’t gotten too far from the party house, so in another minute or two and with a couple messy turns that cause the wheels to ride up onto the curb, you’re back on the street leading up to the house. before you can reach it, though, jungkook slams on the breaks, and you have to throw your hands out onto the dashboard to avoid flying into it due to not fastening your seatbelt. you’re not very successful; the move hurts your wrists, and you’re pretty sure some of your ribs just got bruised anyway.

“what the fuck?” jungkook shouts.

the virgin killer with his lycanthrope mask is standing in the middle of the street; he turns to face the car. he has a chokehold grip on a guy you recognize as a popular frat member, who is almost bare except for his blue-plaid boxers. you remember seeing the frat guy dancing with his girlfriend when you and lorelai initially entered the party; he was in the group of guys who put this whole party together as a way to “save” the campus’s virgins.

the virgin killer is holding a gun to the guy’s head, and you have no clue where he might’ve gotten it from. the guy’s demeanor is weak, and he’s barely able to stand, which is obviously from the profuse blood loss he’s suffering; the killer has carved sharp letters into his stomach to form two words—“FAIR GAME.”

“fair game?” you mumble, a sickly realization forming in your mind.

“fuck no—" jungkook is already throwing the car into reverse when you hear and see the first bullet go off, exploding the frat member’s head into an unrecognizable mess and making you scream at the top of your lungs. you hear more shots after you close your eyes and tuck your body down, along with the sounds of bullets splitting metal and hitting glass, and you think you might be actively dying—or maybe you’re already dead. even that would be preferable to experiencing this nightmare.

you can’t think as you feel the whole world spinning, your body tossed violently around. in reality, the only thing moving is jungkook’s car as he whips the vehicle around and speeds down the same street you just traveled up.

for a few long minutes, you only hear your own heartbeat, his murmured and frantic curses, and the strained breaths coming from both of you. you keep your body curled up with your knees tucked to your chest and arms over your face. the car’s engine roars as it races down the highway.

you’re afraid to open your eyes and find out, but you have to at some point. plus, the uncomfortable position is making your body hurt. carefully, you unfurl yourself and turn to look at him. “did you get hurt?”

“uhh—no? i don’t think…?” he takes one hand off the wheel to feel up his body as if he’s just realizing that might be a possibility. “but i’m wired off pure adrenaline right now, so give me a few more minutes to be sure…” he looks to you. “are you?”

“no.” your blood still runs cold at the thought of lorelai being stuck in the house or navigating the dark neighborhood streets at this time of night. maybe she doesn’t even have her phone; maybe it was lost in the commotion. the number of possible scenarios makes you ill.

there’s silence for a while; you assume he must not be hurt after all. you start seeing familiar roads that lead back to the campus, and the gears in your mind begin turning, powered by fear.

“do you think it’s safe to go back to the college?” you ask, your voice small.

after a pause jungkook asks, “why not?” though his face begins to look like he’s second-guessing things.

“the killer could go back to the campus…i don’t know. there was so much violence tonight. it’s like he really has a grudge against the students from our school or something. what if he wants more victims? the campus police are already incompetent, but with most of them off the grounds and on their way to the party house…” you don’t finish your thought. you’ll need to warn camille of the potential danger.

“right, yeah…” jungkook’s hands flex around the steering wheel a few times. “we should…probably go somewhere else, then.”

nowhere feels safe. still, you ask, “where?”

changing his route, jungkook glances over at you. “to a friend’s house.”

#jungkook smut #jungkook fic #jungkook imagines #jungkook scenarios #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts fic #bts smut #bts x you #bts x reader #black reader #x black reader #x black fem reader #black fem reader #fem reader #female reader

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waynes-multiverse · 5 months

Text

Plastic Hearts – Part 21

Pairing: Director!Dean Winchester x Actress!Reader

Series Summary: Los Angeles, 1985. Y/N’s a young actress without any success, hopping from one failed audition to the next until one desperate mistake brings her to her breaking point. Dean Winchester, on the other hand, is a grade A asshole and washed-up director at the end of his career, known for his godawful slasher movies in the 70s and his love for blow, booze, and women. Lost in the toxic Hollywood life, their paths cross when one hopeless little wrestling show changes their trajectory.

Chapter Warnings: +18, language, smut (p in v, dirty talk, spanking), fluff, angst, comfort

Word Count: 7.6k

A/N: It's finally happening! Get the Office gifs ready 👀😂 It's so good to bring this series back after such an unexpectedly long time away. We've got five more chapters left, so let's make 'em count with as much drama and ridiculousness as possible, shall we? Ready? And action! 🎬

<< 20 || Spotify Playlist || Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

21. Rock You Like A Hurricane

Dean swallows the clot that has formed in the back of his throat as the first button of her white cotton blouse flies open. The air in the office feels dry, his mind hazy. Is he dreaming? Once again, he reminds himself to stop mixing booze and blow. It never ends well and barely ever helps.

Another step forward, another button, another swallow.

Y/N is a Fata Morgana, a mirage, slowly moving towards him through blurry lines and summer heat.

“Don’t you want me?”

The innocent lip bite that accompanies her question sends him downstairs, predestining him to burn in hellfire. He swallows again. Of course, he wants her. He always does.

The heels of his boots dig into the rotten floorboards as he pushes back on his office chair, enough to free his thighs from underneath the wooden desk and show off the bulging erection blooming in his jeans. It started to form as soon as she walked in and turned that damn lock behind her back.

The corners of her pink lips rise to a smile. She likes what she sees, and soon enough, she finds herself slotted between his bow legs with his greedy palms smoothing up her denim-clad thighs until they find a home on the juicy globes of her ass and squeeze tight. Green eyes darken as they wander up her frame before they meet two sparkling orbs that mirror his own lust back to him.

More buttons spring open, the blouse slipping off her shoulders and hitting the ground. A gray leotard becomes visible, two pointed peaks on luscious hills poking through the thin material, his mouth forming a ring around one of them, hot air igniting her skin and stealing her breath. Her arms weave around his neck, her head lolls back between her shoulder blades, her legs grow unsteady. Eyes close, fingers tangle in his hair and claw at his skin.

One large hand travels to the front, works the zipper of her jeans, and shimmies the denim fabric down two smooth thighs. His other arm snakes around her waist, holds her tight, and pulls her closer until she straddles his lap and lets their hips fuse into one.

Their eyes find each other. Gently, he brushes her hair out her face, tucks it behind her ears, strokes her flushed cheeks. She’s breathless and breathtaking, and then she dips her head and catches his lips, kissing him until he is, too.

“Wait, wait, wait…” He draws back in a drunk state of mind and gasps for air, hoping oxygen will help in clearing his head.

“What?” She pouts, her voice velvety soft and delirious.

“I just-… I have to ask you something first, make sure…” The air works wonders, the fog dissipates from his mind. Green eyes watch her closely. There’s something off, something wrong, something out of place. Y/N wouldn’t just stroll into his office and throw herself at him. As much as he enjoys this little dream sequence, it’s not who she is. “Why are you doing this? You’re not-, uhm…” He swallows harshly, his mind racing in circles. “You’re not fucking me, so I’ll stop being mad at you, right? ‘Cause that’s not what I want.”

God, the thought alone kills him. It’s his goddamn nightmare. What if he subconsciously manipulated her to do this? What if he’s taking advantage of her? What if he drove her so desperate that she sees this as her only option? What if she actually doesn’t want this?

But a gentle smile forms on her face instead. She pecks his lips, rests her forehead against his, and softly shakes her head. There’s amusement in her voice. “You already said you weren’t mad at me, remember?”

“Then why?”

Y/N shrugs and licks her ample lips. “I want to. I want you… You’re the best guy I know. I can’t think of anyone I’d want this with more,” she assures him with a sweet smile and caresses the scruff on his cheeks, her hips grinding against his crotch. “It’s just-…” She bites down on her lower lip, cutting off her sentence.

“What? Tell me, sweetheart.” He clutches her chin and draws her gaze to meet his eyes.

“Even with the show being over, I don’t want the girls to find out,” she confesses nervously.

Dean nods in understanding and gifts her a smile. “Lucky for you, I’m good at keeping secrets. Have I ever let you down in that regard?”

She thinks for a beat, then shakes her head and matches his smile. “No.”

“See?” He grins, showing his pearly white teeth, and pulls her lips back to his for a searing kiss that seals their deal.

His hands begin to roam the curves they’re holding, her hips rocking against his in a needy rhythm, desperately searching for more friction to scratch the unbearable itch he seems to cause.

“Need you so bad, need this cock so bad…” she whispers between kisses and ragged breaths.

“Yeah? You think you can get off like that?” Dean lifts his thigh a little higher, shoves it right against her clothed cunt to give her a bit more friction, and listens to her whimpers in satisfaction. “Show me how much you want this… want me, baby girl. Wanna know how desperate you are for this cock, Y/N. Work for it.” His challenge is accompanied by a little smirk, which soon disappears and becomes stuck in his throat when Y/N accepts with eager nods.

Shit, he really needs to stop underestimating her. That’s already been his first mistake when he met her.

Her arms lock tighter around his neck for more balance as she rubs her pussy against the rough denim that covers his thick thigh. Her breathing grows so labored that kissing becomes an impossibility, the need for air in her lungs greater than the need to stay connected. The strong arm slung around her waist helps her move while his other hand tweaks, pinches, and gropes her tit, prying the gray cotton of her leotard over one shoulder to free the flesh and expose her nipple to the cool office air and his hot breath. He feels a wet patch forming on his leg, sees the stain on his jeans from her arousal as he peeks down between them.

“Dean, I’m–…”

Y/N doesn’t have to say it out loud. He can see it on her face that she’s damn close. “Such a good girl. Cum for me, huh? Let me finally fill and stretch this nice pussy with my cock, baby. Been waiting for you,” he coos. “Bet you’re so tight, yeah? How long’s it been?” His tongue licks the hardened bud before he pops her tit in his mouth and sucks, bites, tears.

“Fuck!”

She explodes, his name falling from her lips in prayer as she trembles and quivers in his arms. Her mouth parts, sucks in as much air as she can to fuel her lungs. Her arms cling to him, fingers denting the skin on his broad shoulders.

“That’s my girl,” Dean praises her, smiling as he lets her ride out her orgasm. “So, so pretty when you come. I missed that face.”

“Dean, please… Need you inside me now,” she purrs against his lips, swallowing his groans as they connect.

“Yeah? You sure?”

“Uh-huh, please,” she begs breathily. “How d’you want me, boss?”

“What do you want, Y/N?” Hearing what a woman wants him to do to her or what she wants to do to him has always been one of the biggest turn-ons for him. “Tell me.”

“Want you to bend me over your desk, take me hard, punish me… Been a bad girl. Need you to punish me, please,” she whimpers and hungrily claims his lips, her nails digging into his jaw.

Now, Dean should probably be worried or at least stumped by her somewhat strange request. Not because it’s the craziest thing he’s ever heard a woman ask for in the bedroom, but because it’s not necessarily something Y/N would say. However, she’s also an actress, and he’s about 99.9% sure she’s playing a role and following a script in her head. And well, hey, he likes playing too, so who would he be to deny her wishes? He’s been dreaming about spanking her ass and punishing his favorite Russian villain for weeks at this point.

“I think we can arrange that, baby girl,” he promises, a saucy smirk plastered on his lips. “But first – need to see your face when I break you in, yeah?”

Y/N grins and nods against his lips, her hand reaching down between their heated bodies and unbuckling his belt, pulling it from its loops, metal clinking before the sound of a zipper follows. Lifting her ass from his lap, he helps her strive off the denim, pushing it down his legs till it pools by his ankles, only leaving a thin barrier of cotton between them.

“Condom?”

Dean nods and motions for her to stand up, so he can reach into the bottom drawer of his desk. As he fishes out a foil packet, Y/N discards her leotard, nothing but naked skin and flesh left for his eyes to devour. Removing his own pair of boxers, his long cock bounces against his stomach and stretches to his belly button, fully erect, head swollen, and leaking at the tip. He tears the foil with his teeth and rolls the latex down his aching length before his hands drag her back into his lap.

Her arms settle on his muscular shoulders, her lips find and bruise his as he lines himself up with her entrance and threads his dickhead through her dripping folds. Her cunt is pink and glistening, hot and wet as he slowly slides inside, lets her feel every inch that fills her tight hole to the brim, her small body sinking down on him till they’re inseparable.

A moan escapes them both when he’s fully sheathed in her heat, and Dean knows lasting long would border on a miracle. Her mouth falls open as he stretches her tight walls, her eyes seeking his and not daring to look anywhere else. Unsurprisingly, Y/N takes direction well. She remains connected to him – mind, body, and soul.

“Fuck, Dean,” she breathes and swallows at the sheer thickness inside of her, her eyes finally falling closed as their foreheads meet.

Dean caresses her cheek and softly pecks her hairline. He then shuts his eyes as well and just focuses on the feeling of her wrapped around him for a blissful heartbeat. This is all he ever wanted.

Her. Here.

“You good?” he checks, his fingers trailing soothingly up and down her spine as she relaxes her muscles and adjusts to his size.

A gentle smile twitches and tugs on her lips. “Yeah, I’m great… You feel great.”

“You know, if you keep giving me compliments like that, it’s gonna be hard for me to smack your perky ass purple and blue,” he chuckles and watches a grin form.

“I like to make things hard for you,” she sasses and kisses his lips, her pussy purposely gripping his throbbing dick.

“There’s my bad girl.” Dean can’t fight the smile on his face. “Alright, you ready?”

Dean doesn’t have to wait for an answer as her hips begin to lift and rock against him, calming like the Pacific waves and soothing like the lullabies his mother used to sing when he was sick as a child.

“M-more,” Y/N whines, the needy desperation haunting her vocal chords.

“Beg for it,” Dean whispers, nuzzling his nose against her ear with a smirk.

“Please… Please fuck me, boss,” she rasps her pleas. “Need it hard and fast.”

“Anything you want, sweetheart.” Dean catches her lips, the kiss scorching and lasting before his hands smooth up her bare thighs and grab her ass tight, lifting them both from the chair.

Swiftly, her soles hit the ground as he swirls her in his hold and bends her over his desk. Her tits press flush against the wood, his palms finding her hips as he pulls her closer to him, ass up until it brushes against his solid length. With his knees, he spreads her legs wide and easily slots between them. He palms both asscheeks, caresses the skin before he administers his first slap, the sound echoing through his quiet office with her whimper as he watches the juicy flesh ricochet, completely entranced.

“You got a safe word, Y/N?” Dean asks as he soothes the red spot on her cheek.

“Hmmm,” she muses and bites her lower lip, and he can see the mischief twinkling in her orbs. She giggles, “What about ‘camera guy’?”

His palm strikes the other globe, making her yelp and jolt on the spot.

“Ow, fuck!” Y/N’s moan drowns in a laugh. “Jesus, Dean, I was just kidding.”

The director chuckles, “Yeah, well, I wasn’t.” With one harsh and fast thrust, he drives his cock back into her tight cunt, causing her to slam forward, her hips bruising against the desk. Her fingers curl tightly around the edge, knuckles white as she keeps herself pinned in place. He leans forward, his chest pressing against her back as his warm breath fans against the shell of her ear, his blunt fingernails denting the skin on her hips. Smirking, he demands, “Safe word. Now.”

“Fuck, uhm…” Breathlessly, her mind spirals, his cock slowly dragging in and out of her and not stopping to give her even a second to ponder. “Squirrel?”

“Squirrel it is,” he agrees amusedly, straightening as he picks up his pace and drives in deeper, watching as his dick gets swallowed by her soaking cunt, his swollen shaft glistening with her slick. “Shit, baby girl… Wish you could see how well you take me. Your needy little pussy sucks my fat cock right in,” he groans, listening in delight as his balls slap against her ass with each roll of his hips.

“Maybe you can bring your camera next time, boss,” Y/N mewls her suggestion as she falls apart underneath him.

“Yeah? Would you like that, huh? Would you like to see how fucking desperate you are for me, sweetheart?”

“Uh-huh, would love that, boss. Wanna see how you fuck me and split me open,” she breathes hazily, her moans getting louder with each slam of his hips. “F-fuck, so close… Wanna come on your cock, please.”

“Oh, we can arrange that, sweetheart,” Dean chuckles, his breathing growing more labored as well as sweat starts to collect on his skin in sticky beads. He’s close, too, feels his cock throb and swell inside of her. His palm smacks her asscheek one last time. She cries out with pleasure as the sting burns her skin, her pussy clenching around his dick and gripping it tight.

But just as his hand sneaks to her front and finds the sensitive little nub, their ears both perk up as the big metal door of the gym flies open and a wave of female chatter floods inside.

“Oh, shit!” Y/N moans loudly at his last violent pound into her pussy before Dean’s palm covers her mouth and stops the rest from spilling out.

Pulling her up, her back straightens and presses flush against his body. He slows his thrusts but still pushes in deep enough to tickle her cervix and keeps the little circles on her clit alive, feeling her knees give in as her legs become putty. Her breathing is harsh and restricted against his palm, her lips straining and tightening to keep the screams inside.

“Ssh, ssh, ssh… you’re doing so, so good, baby,” Dean whispers his praises into her ear and chuckles as she clenches hard around his dick. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. Trust me, they won’t hear us over their blabbering,” he chuckles. “Relax, okay? Let loose… little more,” he orders her, feeling the tension in her muscles shift to her head as she bites down on his fingers to keep it locked inside. “There you go… Gonna need you to come quietly, and I’ll be right behind you, alright? Can you do that?” Y/N nods against his hand. “Good girl,” he coos and pecks her temple quickly.

And then, he draws out till only the tip remains inside her drenched channel before he roughly slams back in. His thrusts become relentless in both speed and force as he fucks her, her screams of pleasure only muffled by his palm and the harsh bite of her lip. Tears sting her eyes and stream down her cheeks, trickling onto his fingers at the intense pressure as her walls tighten. One more thrust, and they begin to flutter, her body convulsing as she falls over the cliff and milks his cock for all he’s got, pulling him over the edge with her.

A primal grunt rumbles in his chest and crawls out of his throat, his fingers leaving bruises on her hips behind as he spills hot ropes of his seed into the condom, his cock throbbing in rhythm with her twitching cunt. His hand falls from her mouth as she braces her palms on the wooden surface in front of her.

Deliriously, they both gasp for air, every breath jagged before the storm within them calms. Dean brushes her hair from her sweat-covered neck and lovingly kisses the salty skin on her shoulder blade, a blissful smile gracing his lips.

The sun blinds her eyes as Y/N stands on the green, perfectly cut lawn of the Dusty Spur. The boys have called an emergency meeting at the motel this time, gathering all the women in front of the reception outside.

It’s been three days since she has fucked the director in his office. He was careful not to leave any marks on her throat behind or anywhere else where it might catch unwanted attention, no one batting eyelashes at the new bruises on her hips that joined some of the old ones from training.

Dean told her he wanted a repeat of their encounter, whispering the dirtiest and most sinful promises into her ear. However, they haven’t seen much of each other since then. Both of them have been quite busy after the news of their new time slot and impending cancelation broke. And while it certainly dampened the lighthearted mood in the gym for a day, hope was not entirely lost, though, and still thrived in everyone but Y/N and Jo.

Yet, the two of them played along with the illusion the show still could be saved for the sake of the team. She didn’t know why Jo was entertaining the farce, but Y/N did it for her friends and, well, Dean, who’d been pondering and working nonstop to try and figure out what went wrong in his well-oiled machinery.

Y/N hates that he blames himself, not having the guts to tell him it’s in reality all her fault. Even with his sunglasses on his freckle-dusted nose, she can see the bags under his green eyes from the lack of sleep in recent days and feels more guilt pooling in the pits of her stomach. She doesn’t want him to be mad at her again, which is why she’s glad she can use Billie’s new, harsh training regiment as a good excuse to avoid him.

“They gave a men’s wrestling show our slot! And you wanna know why, hm?” Cas throws his rhetorical question into the group. Y/N has never seen the producer so angry and swallows more shame down. “Truth is, they’re better! They fly higher and hit harder!

“They hit harder because they’re bigger. It’s physics,” Y/N points out and tries to keep her annoyance at bay. It’s a men’s world they’re living in, and she’s getting sick and tired of the comparisons.

“Oh, fuck physics, Y/N!” Cas yells, causing her to flinch at his tone. “I need you to take everything you got and push it all the way to the limit, okay?”

“I don’t know what else we can do. We’ve been training for hours almost every day. Sun up till sun down,” Donna says and sighs.

Maybe it’s not too late, and Y/N should request a private meeting with Dick at the network, try and smooth things over before they get any worse. Maybe a blowjob in the office is enough to get them their old slot back and save the show. Dean wouldn’t ever have to know, right?

Besides, would he even care? Maybe he’d be grateful. After all, she doesn’t have much worth beyond fucking someone if you asked anyone here.

“I don’t need to hear excuses. I need to hear results,” Cas huffs and places his hands on his squared-off hips, shaking his head.

“You want bigger moves? Fine, you’ll get ‘em,” Billie assures him with a biting fighter spirit.

Cas’ lips curve into an enthusiastic smile. “That’s what I wanna hear! Look, I know this is gonna be hard, but I believe in miracles, and we’re going to make this miracle happen!”

Jo heaves a sigh. “Right, so we break our bodies and wrestle harder and magically get our time slot back?” she asks wryly, but her sarcasm is sadly lost on Cas.

“Yes!” the producer agrees joyously. “Look, I have it from Richard Roman himself that this is what they’ve been missing.”

At that, Jo’s blaming eyes wander to Y/N as the two former friends share a look. Shamefully, Y/N averts her gaze to the green grass underneath her feet, and Jo clenches her jaw tightly and starts to grind her teeth. Ever since their heated conversation in the gym, things have went downhill between them. Nowadays, there are just judgmental looks and passive-aggressive comments passed between them.

“So you met with Richard Roman?” Jo turns her unresolved anger towards the guys.

Cas groans loudly and rolls his blue eyes back. “Jo, I’m sorry, okay? It was a guy thing. We had to storm the gates,” he explains.

“Yeah, don’t get back up on your feminist high horse, alright? We didn’t leave you out, okay?” Dean jumps to Cas’ defense and unsuccessfully smooths things over. “We just think your focus should be on performing this week, you know? You and Y/N have a big match coming up. The, uh, continuing tale of the bereaved mother and the insane Russian, right?”

Jo nods and clenches her jaw once more, biting back her surely fiery comments.

“Okay, enough talking! Let’s do it!” Cas announces eagerly and claps his palms together as the women scatter back to their rooms to get ready for today’s training.

“What time do you wanna rehearse today?” Y/N bitterly asks her blonde opponent, already expecting a bitchy answer.

“Oh, any time, really. I mean, we could rehearse all day and night. It won’t make a difference,” Jo replies in an annoyed tone as anticipated. “You of all people should know that.”

Y/N watches Jo leave, trying her hardest not to strangle her former friend. She gets it. She fucked up, but she still doesn’t agree with Jo. Would sleeping with Roman and sacrificing her dignity really have saved the show?

“Hey, everything alright?” Dean’s deep voice startles her. She was so preoccupied with killing Jo in her mind, she hasn’t even noticed the director sneak up on her. “I know Cas was a little intense today. Never seen the guy this riled up before. It’s like a puppy getting rabies.”

Y/N forces a chuckle from her throat and brushes him off. “Oh, uhm, yeah, wasn’t so bad. I get it.”

Dean’s brow creases, sensing something is off with her. Shit. She does not want the director to find out about what happened.

“You’re not mad at me, right? I know I’ve been a bit MIA the last few days. It’s just been crazy with everything going on,” he explains sincerely and shoots her a soft smile. “I meant to call you or at least talk to you. I hope you know that.”

“Yeah, no, like I said, I get it, Dean. Don’t worry about me, okay?” she assures him and compels another smile to her face before her curiosity takes over. “Did Roman really say our moves weren’t good enough?”

Her hope comes flooding back. Maybe it truly wasn’t her fault. Maybe the guy hits on so many actresses on a weekly basis that he doesn’t even care if one rejects him. Maybe it’s just all in her goddamn head, and it was just bad luck all around.

Dean shrugs and scratches the back of his neck. “Well, he didn’t say it exactly like that, but you girls are amazing. He’s gonna change his mind, and you’ll be back in your old slot in no time,” he promises her hopefully.

“Yeah, I guess so…” Fuck. It’s definitely about her.

“You sure you’re okay?” Dean checks again, noticing her absentminded behavior. Y/N’s usually chipper, eager, talkative, and hard to keep contained. She’s a warrior. The woman in front of him right now is the complete opposite, however. He almost doesn’t recognize her, and it worries him a little.

Is it him? Did he break her?

“Uh-huh, yeah, just tired, you know? Billie’s been riding us pretty hard this week,” Y/N excuses her strange mood with a half-truth, and Dean seems to buy it.

“Yeah, I bet.” He nods understandingly, chuckling. “Well, uhm, I’ve got some free time tonight. You wanna come over for dinner and I don’t know maybe… stay? You could ride me pretty hard, too,” he suggests, making her snort. “Admittedly, that sounded better in my head. Sorry.”

“No, uhm, I’d love to,” she replies honestly, giggling at his bashfulness. “But I’m pretty beat. Probably gonna fall into bed around seven like a dead person. Raincheck?”

Truthfully, there’s nothing she’d rather do than spend her nights (and days) with Dean, but the guilt in her belly is eating her alive. She can barely look him in the eyes. As of right now, though, she can see even more disappointment shimmering in his green orbs.

“Sure, yeah. Open invitation, sweetheart,” he says and acts as if her rejection doesn’t bother him. “But still, if all you wanna do is sleep, then you’re welcome to do that at my place as well. I do have the better mattress than the motel. Maybe a good night’s rest and a hot bath is all you need to recover, you know?”

Hot bath. The words make her skin crawl and take her right back to that horrible night where it all went wrong. How could she have been so stupid?

Y/N swallows the lump in her throat and fights for words. “Oh, uhm… I don’t, uh…”

“Hey, it’s okay, alright? No explanation needed, sweetheart,” Dean says and lets her off the hook. “Just wanted to offer, you know?”

“Thanks, another time.” Y/N forces one last smile to her lips.

Dean hasn’t seen Y/N in a whole week. Well, that’s not entirely true. He sees her every day at training in the gym, rolling around with Jo in the ring. But he hasn’t seen her privately since their little naughty stint in his office.

By now, he’s sure she’s avoiding him for some reason, but he doesn’t have the guts nor the balls to ask her straight. He’s too afraid of her answer, scared she has changed her mind about them and their arrangement. He’d accept it, of course, but he still doesn’t want to find out if that’s the reason why she keeps her distance. It would most certainly break his heart.

A knock on his office door makes his head snap up with hope that it’s Y/N. Either she’s here for another booty call or to end it. He’s prepared for both. To his surprise, though, it’s Donna who’s stopping by for a visit.

“Dean? Can we talk?” the curvy blonde asks insecurely, concern etched into every crease of her face.

“Sure, uh, what’s up?” Dean knows Donna and Billie have given their all to train the girls over the last few weeks, and if production could afford it, he’d give them both a gigantic raise. Unfortunately, he can’t but hopes it’s the thought that still counts.

“It’s about Y/N and Jo,” she informs him, and his ears perk up at that.

He’s noticed some tension between those two as well, so he’s not as surprised as he should have been. But honestly, sometimes it’s hard to tell what those two are fighting about. If it’s something new or just the same old beef.

“Usually, they do a good job of keeping their weird friendship stuff out of the ring, but not in the last week. There’s something wrong with them,” Donna tells him.

No shit, Dean thinks. Those two having issues is not an entirely new thing.

“What d’you want me to do about it?” Dean asks. He knows Donna didn’t just stroll into his office to chat and gossip. She’s looking for direction. Like the rest of these women downstairs, the blonde expects him to solve their problems. In the end, that’s his job.

“Postpone the match,” Donna prompts, the worry deepening. “I don’t think they should fight. They’re not communicating properly. Someone’s gonna get hurt.”

Dean tries not laugh, but in reality, it’s just fucking funny. Do these women ever think things through? Y/N and Jo’s match is the main storyline, the two of them being the best fighters as well. If they’re not entering the ring, he might as well just throw in the towel now and quit. The show would never make it back on air.

“Donna, I can’t do that,” he tells her frustratedly and runs a palm over his face. “C’mon, don’t be so dramatic. It’s not like they’re gonna kill each other.”

“Dean–” Donna is about to interject when he stops her.

“Fine, all right? I’ll talk to her,” the director assures the blonde.

Donna’s brow shoots up. “Her?”

“Them. I’ll talk to them,” Dean corrects quickly and watches her leave his office, clearly dissatisfied with his solution.

Dean hates West Hollywood like a mouse hates a cat. He can’t believe he fucking agreed to this thing in the first place. And the only reason he did agree was his stupid daughter, who’s not even here tonight because she’d rather spend time with her boyfriend than with her dad.

Fucking teenagers…

Honestly, Dean’s got no clue why he still came here without Claire. Maybe because he’s old-school and actually keeps his commitments, or maybe it’s because he’s got nothing better to do since neither his kid nor his not-girlfriend want to spend time with him. So, it was either getting drunk at home alone like he always does or do this.

As Dean enters the dark theater, he notices not a lot of seats are taken. Surprise, surprise! No one cares about him or his movies…

There’s a group of teenagers in the front row, though, who seem to be way to young to watch one of his films. But who is he to judge? He’s not their fucking parent. God knows he’s got his hands full with one teenager already.

He’s about to take a seat somewhere in the back when his green eyes spy a familiar head of hair. His heart skips a beat when he recognizes his favorite actress. Out of all the places in all the world, he’d never thought he’d meet her here.

“Hey,” he says as soon as he’s made it to her row. Her head darts up, but she doesn’t seem too surprised to see him here, which makes this coincidence even weirder. He assumed she strolled by this theater by accident and saw one of his movies was showing, deciding to check it out, which just so happens to flatter him and stroke his ego perfectly fine. “What are you doing here?”

Dammit. That sounded way too aggressive. He’s honestly happy she’s here; he just hasn’t expected it. Call it a ‘pleasant surprise.’

“Oh, uh, Claire invited me,” Y/N explains and gulps nervously. “But I can leave if you don’t want me here.”

Damn that kid. Of course, she meddled in his affair. Does she know he likes Y/N? Is it that obvious? Well, either way, someone’s getting a bigger allowance this week. Doesn’t he have the best kid?

“No, uh, stay. Please,” he says and sends Y/N his best smile. “Can I sit with you?”

Her face lights up. “Sure.”

Dean sits down on a red velvet seat next to her and feels like a goddamn teenager on a first date. His knees are shaking as he anxiously taps his boots on the sticky movie floor and drums his palms repeatedly on his thighs. Something inside of him urges him to hold her hand and interlace their fingers, or do one of those moves where he yawns and slings his arm around her shoulders.

In fact, he can barely concentrate on the movie until he takes her hand in his. But who cares? He wrote and directed this masterpiece, so it’s not like he’s missing out on anything important. He already knows the plot and every single shot.

Once their fingers touch, his heartbeat accelerates to light speed. She shoots him a look and raises her brow with a teasing smirk. He can catch it from his periphery but doesn’t dare to look straight at her. Instead, he awkwardly clears his throat and glues his green eyes stubbornly to the silver screen, pretending it’s not a big deal.

When did holding hands become such a fucking thrill? He’s not goddamn sixteen anymore, for crying out loud.

Y/N takes note of his uncomfortableness and focuses back on the movie but still gives his hand a small squeeze, telling him everything is all right. They remain exactly like this till the end credits roll across the screen.

And then, to his greatest surprise, there are cheers and claps from everyone in the theater. Y/N lets go of his hand to clap as well and bites her lip to hide a smile once she sees him blush furiously at the attention and admiration.

The group of teenagers then approaches him and stops by his row as a young, scrawny boy speaks up, “You’re a genius, Mr. Winchester.”

Mister?! How old do they think he is? Well, granted, he probably shot that movie before those kids were even born. Talk about feeling old.

“Your disorientation factor is truly masterful,” the boy continues. “Claire told us we’d love it.”

His brow shoots up in surprise. “Claire? How do you know my kid?”

“Oh, we’re all in AV club together,” the boy replies and gestures to his peers before they filter out of the theater.

“Huh.” Dean is gobsmacked, truly. For one, he didn’t even know Claire was in AV club. And secondly, he’s goddamn proud of her. Who knew the kid would take after her old man?

“See?” Y/N pokes his arm with her elbow, a big grin adorning her face. “You have a whole fan club of teenagers who adore your movie that they are, for sure, too young to see.”

Dean chuckles softly and wishes he could hide his reddening cheeks from her.

“I liked your movie, too,” she says then and watches his reaction closely.

“Oh, c’mon,” Dean tries to brush her off. She’s probably just saying it to appeal to his ego. He knows she’s not the biggest fan of his work. “Really?”

“Yeah!” Y/N says enthusiastically. “Those kids were right. It was disorienting. You were doing your own thing.” But then she catches her mistake and corrects herself, “Are. Sorry! You still are doing–”

Dean, however, shakes his head at her correction. “Nope, you’re right,” he admits and scoffs. “That was me twenty years ago. My hands all over everything like the biggest control freak, driving everybody nuts. I mean, my operator actually became so frustrated with me that he quit the first day and threw his camera at me. I had to shoot the rest of it myself.”

“You shot that?” Y/N’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “Wow.”

“Yeah, I did.” Dean sighs and pensively scratches his beard. Something’s been bothering him for a while now, and talking to Y/N usually helps him sort through his jumbled thoughts. After all, she’s his Alma. “You know, I’m accustomed to a certain level of failure. When a project usually goes wrong, I know exactly what happened. It’s just-… with our show… I have no idea what went wrong there. I don’t know why they shit-canned us. Not a fucking clue. None. It’s driving me insane.”

Y/N grows quiet next to him and fumbles with her fingers. She swallows deeply before she opens her mouth. “I have an idea. I know why,” she confesses.

The director’s brow furrows. As he looks at her, he recognizes her nervousness. It causes him to worry. “What d’you mean?”

“Richard Roman, the head of the network? He-, uhm, he invited me to dinner… at his hotel room,” Y/N begins, the uncomfortableness growing inside of her and expanding in her chest.

Dean, on the other hand, stays perfectly still and quiet. The calm before the storm, so to speak. Because as soon as she said those words, he could feel his heart stop and drop several feet into the depths of hell. There, he’s sure he’ll find some kind of weapon he can use to kill that motherfucker before he comes back topside. The director knows how that story ends before she has even finished it, and it makes him want to puke his guts out and burn this godforsaken city down.

“He came on to me. As in… he wanted to have sex with me,” Y/N continues and clarifies in case he didn’t catch on. She’s not entirely sure the director is getting the message since he hasn’t said a word yet. “But I left before anything could happen. Ran away, actually. Bolted right outta there.” Her little chuckle at the end is a futile attempt to lighten the mood.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” Dean’s furious, his nostrils flaring. He wants to punch and kill someone, but most of all Dickhead Roman himself.

“No, I’m not,” Y/N replies meekly. “I’m so sorry. Please don’t be mad at me.”

Bewildered, he frowns. “Mad?” That’s when he notices that she suddenly seems scared. Is she frightened… of him?!

“Maybe I can still fix it. Just call him and ask him if I can come by his office,” Y/N suggests, her voice laced with desperation. But not the good kind that usually turns him on. This time it’s just plain sad.

“To do what exactly?” Dean prompts grimly, already knowing her intentions. Over his dead body is she doing that!

“Well–”

“Fuck no!” Dean doesn’t even allow her to finish her sentence. In fact, he doesn’t want to hear it at all, or he might have to scratch his ears out afterward. God, he doesn’t even want to think about it. “You’re not fucking doing anything, alright?”

“But–”

“That stupid fucking son of a bitch,” Dean huffs and shakes his head. “What a goddamn prick!”

“So you’re not mad?” Y/N checks insecurely.

For a moment, Dean stops his rage to look at her, his heart almost breaking as he does. She deserves so much better in this life than all the shit she’s getting. How the fuck is any of this fair?

“At Dick cocksucking Roman, yeah. But not at you. Never at you, okay?” he emphasizes and sees her nod in relief. His heart shatters anew. How could she even think for a second he’d hold some sleazebag’s actions against her? But then his suspicions grow as he puzzles the pieces together. “When the fuck did this happen?”

“Uh, a little over a week ago,” Y/N answers quietly. “The night before they moved us to the nighttime slot.”

“That’s when you came to my office, and we–” Dean doesn’t finish his train of thought and cards a hand through his messy hair. Now, it makes sense. Her strange behavior, the inexplicable need for punishment, and everything in between.

‘You’re the best guy I know,’ he remembers her words. ‘I can’t think of anyone I’d want this with more.’

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Was that why you were avoiding me?”

A part of him feels unbelievably relieved. It’s not him but literally someone else’s fault. For once, he’s done nothing wrong. For once, he hasn’t ruined everything. But another part of him, the bigger one, just wants to rip Dickbag Roman’s throat out with his goddamn teeth. What a pathetic fucking loser…

Dean wishes he could beat the guy black and blue and leave him bleeding on the highway till a truck runs over him. He wishes he could cut off that guy’s dick and put it through a meat grinder. His mind can’t stop imagining the most gruesome ways to make that asshat suffer and die. In fact, he wishes Manson was still roaming Spawn Ranch and would send his Family over to that Roman’s mansion and leave Sharon Tate the fuck alone.

“I’m sorry. I guess I was scared you’d react like Jo.” Y/N gulps and averts her eyes to her trembling hands in her lap.

His brow knits, Donna’s warning words echoing through his mind. “Jo knows? What did she say?” But before Y/N can answer him, the director stops her again. “No, wait… I can take a fucking guess,” he mutters bitterly. The blonde bimbo probably told her to blow the guy in his goddamn office. Typical…

“Well, she’s not entirely wrong, you know,” Y/N mumbles and bites down on her lip without looking at him.

“What d’you mean?”

“All I’m good for is a fuck,” she says with a wry smile and wipes away a small tear. Dean’s heart twinges and hurts for her, but that pain is nothing compared to the cool blade of a knife he feels soon instead. “I mean, you of all people know that…”

Dean’s quiet for a moment and bites his nails as he ponders. His mind is a maze, and he knows he has to pick and choose his words carefully in order to get out of it.

“No, I actually don’t know that,” he states and catches her attention.

He tries his best not to sound angry or offended, even though he is a little. Hasn’t he been building her confidence for weeks now? Hasn’t he been instilling in her that she’s his favorite – and not just among the cast but on this planet in general? He figured she knew how much she truly means to him, but maybe he hasn’t been clear enough yet. He knows Y/N’s self-worth issues could fill every damn swimming pool in California, so maybe he shouldn’t expect a miracle so soon.

Mostly, he’s angry at Dicksuck Roman and Barbie for ruining all his hard work with one asshole move and a few bitchy words.

Dean wets his lips and lets out a sharp exhale through his nose before he looks at her. “Y/N, you’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever met in my entire life. You’re never just a quickie in the office to me. Do you understand that?”

She nods in slow reluctance. “I think so.”

“Good,” he says sternly. “Now believe it ‘cause it’s true.”

The green-eyed director cups her cheeks and pulls her to his lips, tongue meeting tongue in a searing kiss. The old seats creak when their weight shifts, Y/N leaning into his touch as she wrings for oxygen with heavy breaths. And where words fail, he tries his best to show her how he feels through his actions.

“Sorry,” Dean apologizes cheekily once he lets her get some air. “Couldn’t hold myself back any longer. That’s okay, right? We’re still on?”

Suddenly, it dawns on him that she might’ve still changed her mind about him. Has he just sexually harassed a woman right after she told him how she’s been sexually harassed by a superior? Jesus fucking Christ, he’s goddamn tone deaf, isn’t he?

To his luck, though, Y/N finds his stupidity amusing and giggles, placing another sweet kiss on his plump lips as she shakes her head. “We’re still on, boss,” she assures him and hears him heave a big sigh of relief.

“Awesome.” He grins from ear to ear and brushes a strand of rogue hair out of her face. “Are you and Jo okay? ‘Cause if you’re not, you gotta tell me. You wanna postpone the match?”

Now that Dean knows there’s no chance in hell the network’s going to let the show survive, he doesn’t even give a shit if the girls resort to doing the chicken dance in the ring or taking a dump on stage. No one truly gives a fuck anymore, least of all him. He never has.

The only thing he cares about is sitting right next to him.

Y/N, however, vehemently shakes her head. “No, we’re fine. I wanna fight. ‘Sides, I’m supposed to win this match, and I can’t wait to kick Jo’s bitchy ass.” She grins broadly.

“That’s my bad girl.” Dean smirks and pecks her lips. “You’re gonna stay over at my place tonight? Play a little Cold War in my bedroom?”

“Only if I can do my accent,” Y/N says, beaming.

The director playfully rolls his green eyes, even though he’s direly been waiting for that sort of role play. “Oh, you’ve got yourself a deal, Natasha.”

22. Girls, Girls, Girls

Hope you enjoyed this one! We came back with a literal bang 😂 Next up we deal with more drama and a hospital stay 👀

Don't forget I re-did the tag lists after the break, so pick your new place (everything, specific character, or series) and put your username in there ❤️

TAGS:

Jensen: @alwaystiredandconfused @xlynnbbyx @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @blackcherrywhiskey @deansbbyx @foxyjwls007 @ladysparkles78 @roseblue373 @zepskies @agalliasi @yvonneeeee @hobby27 @iamsapphine @globetrotter28 @mxltifxnd0m @lacilou @feyresqueen @suckitands33

Old Series Tags (only for this part): @jessjad @mrsjenniferwinchester @smellingofpoetry @justrealizedimmascifygurl @leigh70 @4getfulimaginator2022 @yeahmynameiscool06 @luci-wiggles @darkened-writer @mimaria420 @samanddeansannoyingsis @sarasolros

#plastic hearts #dean winchester #director!dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x female reader #actress!reader #dean winchester au #dean winchester smut #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fanfic #director!dean winchester x actress!reader #glow au #supernatural au #supernatural fanfic #supernatural

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no1heyyyyyyyy · 9 months

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Sevika's tastes

Sevika is an old lady and she just wants to be left alone. She likes to look good but when it comes to clothes, Miss thing just doesn’t care that much. She always has practicality in mind. So, no dresses, nothing flowy, has to have natural fabrics so that her skin can breathe, and she requires that things are comfortable. Her shoes are always made for hardware with a strong sole and often reinforced. In the modern world, I see her working in metal working (specifically welding), so she has to have clothes that are multipurpose. Though, if she was forced to wear anything really nice, it would be a simple well-cut blazer and a button down with jeans or slacks that conform to her legs nicely. She prefers earthy colors, nothing too flashy. I think she’d really appreciate a nice dark green, or perhaps brown. I also feel that she would enjoy a nice flannel regularly.

With food, I’m afraid her palette is as unrefined as her clothing choices. She genuinely does not care what she eats, though she really likes chicken- loves hot wings, spicy food is her love. But, her comfort food will always be the food native to what part of India her family is from. I don’t think she’s the best cook, but she has a few family recipes that she knows so well (aloo gobi, chai, samosa, tikka masala, saag paneer). And, I think that on nights where she’s feeling really sad or lonely she always craves those foods. She’d love to cook with or for her partner, it’d be the best way to get to know her honestly. Because it allows for her to show vulnerability through actions and without words. She loves to take care of people and I think in modern times she’d mother her friends just a bit, always making sure they’re eating well, drinking their water, and sleeping right (if not she’ll give them some chai). She doesn’t eat beef or dark meats in general, and she isn’t the biggest fan of seafood or turkey. So, she sticks with her chicken and her paneer. She’ll eat tofu but it needs to be in curry or something similar.

This woman would love 80s hair metal, music is something that I genuinely believe she’d love so much. She’d play drums as a teenager, dead set on becoming the drummer of the next Metallica. She’d also love the old school heavy metal bands, Iron Maiden, Metallica, Black Sabbath, Pantera. She’d love them all. I think she’d like some old school 90s rap too, but none of the new-age mumble rap that’s going on. She wouldn’t really like Taylor Swift’s music, just because it didn’t vibe with her, but she respected Taylor’s ability to get a bag. She has had a huge crush on Adele ever since she heard the album 25 when it came out. She liked some of her music, but thought Adele was drop dead gorgeous and all mature and soulful and shit, hit her in the feels and made her whipped for this woman she didn’t even know.

For movies she loves shitty 80s slasher horror, nothing that makes her think. She’d sit back in her old recliner in her pajamas and house slippers whilst watching Slumber Party Massacre for the third time, and then put on Golden Girls because she feels that Dorothy Zbornak is her spirit animal. She likes a good sitcom too and a ridiculous drama (she loves Desperate Housewives), she likes the camp, the over the top acting and dumb plots, it makes her laugh and feel care free in a way she hasn’t been in a long time. She just wants to curl up with her pets (she would have many) and watch teen-based tv shows that revolve around crime or secrets (Pretty Little Liars, Riverdale, Vampire Diaries, even Buffy etc.). She likes how bad they are, but she gets so invested it’s ridiculous.

For personal scents she’d like more woody, alluring scents that are also kind of sweet. Think Amber by Rag n’ Bone (it smells so good), she doesn’t spray much, just a spritz, it wafts around her just slightly, just enough for women to fall at her feet. Her individual smell wouldn't be overpowering but it would definitely be clear. It’s grounding and soothing. Her sweat stinks though, every time she comes back from the gym, she goes straight to the showers because her own dogs don’t want to come near her b.o.

In general, Sevika is an old woman who couldn’t give less of a shit. She wants to be left alone with her life and her people and chill. Which is why, I feel like she isn’t that opinionated on much unless it’s boundaries or causes she cares about. She just doesn’t have the energy to be bothered with trivial things like which movie to choose for the night, or which restaurant to go to. She is tired and all she wants to do is eat good food with her partner and her pets in a little cottage in the middle of nowhere. She doesn’t like neighbors and she doesn’t like people in her business. She doesn’t need a perfect life, just one that’s hers.

for whatever reason the letters are being weird, it is killing me. Please ignore it.

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lowkeyclowning · 1 year

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Slashers reacting to the reader high/having a stoner partner

warnings: smoking, drugs, brief mentions of nsfw and torturing

I hope this is satisfactory, I haven’t written anything or gotten caught up with most of these characters in a while 😭😭

Chromeskull (Jesse Cromeans)

- he’s driven by your state, how expressive you are, and overall just how impressionable you become. He loves the control he has on you.

- He’d be a junky for it, if you were the kind of person to enjoy that he craves it; he’d take full advantage of that. Going out of his way to fulfill your desires and keep you relying on him.

- He’d buy more for you. Anything you like: edibles, pens, blunts, bongs, etc. As long as you pay him back in a way of his liking he doesn’t mind.

- He would get high with you depending on where you stand to him, if you were seen as his victim/obsession/infatuation he likely wouldn’t. He finds it so much more intoxicating to watch you come undone. If you were seen as a friend or coworker he might consider if you catch him in a good mood, about 75% he agrees

The Collector (Asa Emory)

- He is entertained to say the least, though his amusement comes with a sick twist of curiosity. He wants to see how your mind and body react to intense things under this state. He wants to see how quick you twist and squirm; You’d give in so fast, you’d be so easy to take.. that has his attention.

- He is going to toy with you if you’re his un-collected victim, such as standing in the corner of your room and watching to see how long you take to notice him and how you respond, only then would he decide what to do with you.

- Other than that he doesn’t all the much care for it specifically, it’s just a tool, a weak one at that. He would much rather observe harder drugs work their effect and build off that.

- He wouldn’t get high with anyone regardless of closeness. He’d never willingly be caught with his guard down like that.

Bo Sinclair

- Oh honey, he’s all over this. He is ecstatic to watch you during your highs, he loves to play around with you and make you laugh. Hearing the impact of his charisma through your high drives him crazy.

- He is very playful with you already, when you’re high he can’t stop himself from “accidentally” scaring you or telling dumb jokes that send you laughing so hard you have to hold onto him to prevent yourself from toppling over.

- Play fighting and bickering with you is another way he gets his entertainment, the way you struggle to make sense is pure gold in his opinion.

- He’d absolutely get high with you, he might even be the one to suggest it in the first place. Watching him unfold is euphoric. He gets clingy when he hits that peak. With that, intimacy is usually always the result. Keeping your hands off each other would be an obstacle among itself

Vincent Sinclair

- He doesn’t mind too much, though he is entranced by your behavior. Often caught staring and watching you, but he does that regardless of your high. He loves looking at you. You are his muse, his gaze can’t help but drift towards you.

- He is reliable to be around, he’s quiet and usually doing his own thing. If he gets this rush of infatuation towards you he may drift closer for a look, but other than that he tends to keep to himself.

- He’d prefer not to get high, it isn’t in his greatest interest. He’d much rather spectate and keep out of the way.

Ghostface (Stu Macher)

- He likely is a supplier or knows the best, as well as someone that is always ready to drop everything to smoke a bit.

- He might jokingly pout that you were smoking without him if he found you alone.

- Sometimes you’ll lay there with him listening to music, talking and laughing about funny things he said or some weird dream you had two or three nights ago.

- There’d never be a dull moment smoking with him, one moment you could be laying on a couch and the next you’re on your way to a gas station getting a ridiculous amount of food because he got the munchies and refused to go alone.

- 10/10 would love to smoke with him

Bubba Sawyer

- He wouldn’t really catch on to what was happening with you at first. He doesn’t have tons of experience with being taught to feel any sort’ve way towards the substance but he may express curiosity or worry for your odd behavior. You’d definitely need explaining to avoid possible worries.

- He is good support to be around when you are high, minding his own business for the most part. He’d curiously come over to you every now and again for attention plus the reassurance that you’re alright.

- I can’t see him taking his own high good, much less smoking, but he’ll blindly follow you into hell if you let him so you’ll have to know his boundaries for him sometimes. He’s still getting used to having choices so you’ll have to be patient with him.

Billy Lenz

- He likes watching you get high, it makes his head fuzzy to watch you get so vulnerable around him. It sends him into a craze whether you know he is there or not.

- He gets a kick from way you laugh at the littlest things,, but also how paranoid you get at times. Oh he loooves scaring you. His crooked grin smearing from cheek to cheek as you scream or jolt from something he did.

- I don’t remember much about Billy, but he looks like someone who has done harder drugs, so I’m going to say he’d be delighted to get high with or without you. If you are with him, prepare for the clingiest mess you’ve ever seen. If you weren’t with him, prepare for some disturbing phone calls.

#asa emory #jesse cromeans #chromeskull #slashers x reader #chromeskull x reader #asa emory x reader #billy lenz #bubba sawyer #vincent sinclair #stu macher #billy lenz x reader #the collector

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boingfessions · 5 months

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HAPPY OINGO BOINGO DAY EVERYNYAN!!!

I hope everyone has a great time today! Surely more than one person asked themselves a question: What the HELL is Oingo Boingo? Well, the name itself is complete absurdity! But what makes Oingo Boingo Oingo Boingo? Find out in this post under cut!

Our beloved crazy ginger man! Daniel Robert Elfman is an American film composer, singer, songwriter, and musician. Delusional, orange af, joker-like, face with a combination of slasher smile and Kubrick stare, perhaps even had prolonged non-fatal rabies in his time in Oingo Boingo that was only recently cured when the band broke, but unfortunately (or not) returned in recent years. Now his entire body is covered in tattoos and his hair is straight now because of dyeing it to hide his gray hair, ergo his old age. The truth is that he is actually a skeleton disguised as Danny Elfman to pass himself off as living human so that the Grim Reaper don't come after him, but SHHHH!!! I did not tell you anything!

Danny Elfman (lead vocals, rhythm guitar)

Steve Bartek (lead guitar, rhythm vocals)

Fluffy tall boy <3. Steve Bartek is an American guitarist, film composer, conductor, and orchestrator. Elfman's right-hand man and the one he trusts with his skeletons in his closet, oh and his film compositions too of course! One of the few members of the band who was not consumed by it and therefore did not become a feral creature in the process. He plays little guitars because he's a big man, y'know! He usually wore ridiculously short ties along with baggy t-shirts. His guitar solos drove Danny so crazy that he was spinning around and caused him to have back pain to this day, so you know how to blame. Nowadays unfortunately his beautiful dark curls have become gray, but luckily he now looks like an adorable grandpa now! (just like the others)

Kerry Hatch (bass guitar, backing vocals)

A marvelous human being! Kerry Hatch is an American musician... and that's it. Walking diva and Zoolander wannabe, this lad was the band's bassist until 1984, when he decided to join the band "Zuma II" (what the HELL is that band? I have no idea!). A pretty lad who likes to be handsome and play bass guitars that don't even look like bass guitars, I don't know what else I could say about him! Maybe he thought the band wasn't good enough for him and decided to leave to pursue something better, but that's just a guess... if you can consider a landscaping business better!

Richard "Ribbs" Gibbs (keyboards, backing vocals)

Mister mistery~ Richard Gibbs is an American film composer and music producer. Like Kerry, he left the band in 1984 to join Zuma II, and to be honest I don't know what what that band had to make not one but TWO members of Oingo Boingo (the best band in the entire galaxy and even the sixth dimension) have left to be in that band. Anywho, all I have to say about him is that he did well in life, being a composer like Danny and that's it.

Johnny "Vatos" Hernández (drums, percussion)

THIS IS JOHNNY VATOS FROM OINGO BOINGO MAN!!!! He is a drummer with crazy hairstyles who likes to dum ba dum through life. Almost as crazy as Danny was, he stayed loyal to the band even after they broke up (yes, he was in another band called Food for Feet, but I don't give a DAMN!) Years after the band broke up he managed to reunite about four former members and form "Oingo Boingo Former Members", made up of him, Steve Bartek, John Avila, Carl Graves and Sam "Sluggo" Phipps, in addition to new members. Idk about you, but I would like to have him as my grandpa!

Sam "Sluggo" Phipps (saxophone, backing vocals)

Leon Schneiderman (saxophone, backing vocals)

Slam Bam "Sluggo" Phipps is an American saxophone player known for his signature bright, expressive smiles, where he shows off all his teeth and can light up an entire room. The tallest guy in the band and the one who likes to show off his instrument the most, rising it high in the air when attention is focused on him. Well, maybe not so much, but you understand what I mean! Maybe he can be too expressive and noisy, but we still love him ❤️

Dale Turner (trumpet, backing vocals)

Do you remember when I said that Sluggo had the brightest smile in the world? Well, I lied! That one goes to our dear Leon Schneiderman, the other saxophonist in the band. He could do anything in the whole world, even his own instruments! Being a childhood friend of Danny's, it can be said that he has been in the band every moment since it started, even longer than Danny himself! Don't you love him and his smiles?

John Avila (bass guitar, backing vocals)

Our beloved grandpa-mom. He is an American trumpet player who entered The Mystic Knights after they let him audition after seeing him practice in secret. He makes sure to keep an eye on the other guys in the band and can (if he hasn't already) spank them to make them behave (except for Sluggo; NOBODY spanks Sluggo). Even if he is the shortest member of the band along with John Avila, that doesn't make him any less authoritative, being around ten years older than the rest of the band. He is silent like a mouse and has never been heard to speak, perhaps because he is reserved or has nothing to say. He left the band and is currently enjoying his life privately, and I really hope he's okay!

HE IS MY BABY, MY CUTIE PIE, MY PUPPY, MY LOVE, MY LIFE, THE BEST BOY IN THE WHOLE WORLD!!!!!!!!! RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!

Ahem, sorry about that... John Avila is an American bassist and music producer. A literal human puppy and the shortest member of the band. He looks like you could pick him up in your arms and cradle him like a baby... Sorry, I'm off topic again! What do you want me to do? He's simply adorable! (At least for me). Anywho, Although he appears in the Gratitude MV, it was not until 6 months after the release of the album So-Lo that he joined the band along with Michael Bacich, being the new bassist and keyboardist respectively. He is usually hyperactive and you can see him at concerts jumping, spinning and playing his bass like a pro. The strange thing is that, even though the years go by and he obviously ages, he still seems to be the same mischievous and playful puppy-like guy... Okay, sorry again!

Michael Bacich (keyboards, backing vocals)

Quiet nerdy boy. He's was the keyboardist of the band since 1985 until 1988. Yes, he didn't stay for a long time, but his presence in the band is still important as he was present in the band's best era (Dead Man's Party). He looks like the typical nerd who would say "actually☝️🤓" and give you information that you didn't even ask for but still decided to give you to expand your zero knowledge. He also looks kinda shy and like someone who Danny would bully if the band were in a cliché teen movie. Like Dale, he decided to move on with his life after leaving the band, which it's okay after all.

I ran out of space for more images! Don't worry, I'll reblog this post right away talking about the rest of the band (which are only two members but still!). Thank you very much for reading this far and HAPPY BOINGO DAY TO ALL OF YOU AGAIN!!!

#oingo boingo #not a confession #danny elfman #steve bartek #kerry hatch #richard gibbs #johnny vatos #sam phipps #sam sluggo phipps #leon schneiderman #dale turner #john avila #michael bacich #carl graves #warren fitzgerald

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cantsayidont · 10 months

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Recentish movies of note, or not:

BOTTOMS: Ridiculous "teen" comedy about two gay high school losers, PJ (Rachel Sennott, who also co-wrote with director Emma Seligman) and Josie (Ayo Edebiri), who seize on a rumor about their having been in juvenile detention to start an after-school "self-defense club," in the hope that introducing the school's hottest cheerleaders to the cathartic thrill of girls beating the shit out of each other will finally give these hopeless (and ho-less) virgins a chance to score. So silly that complaining about the stupidity of the plot seems a tad churlish, but the story misses some obvious comedic opportunities, and despite the premise, the film eventually becomes far more interested in cartoonish violence than sex. If you dig the overall vibe, you might not care, but as a gay teen sex comedy, it's ultimately less successful (and less outrageous) than BOOKSMART, even though only one of the latter film's teen loser heroines is gay.

DO REVENGE: Black comedy homage to the teen comedies of the '90s and early '00s, inspired in part by the 1951 movie version of STRANGERS ON A TRAIN, about a disgraced prep school popular girl, Drea (Camila Mendes), who joins forces with gay weirdo Eleanor (Maya Hawke) to avenge herself on her former friends and find out who leaked her sex tape — a plan that involves giving Eleanor a makeover so she can infiltrate the popular kids. Hawke is a delight, Mendes is very good, and the homoerotic tension of their odd relationship makes the movie fun for a while, especially if you appreciate the many self-conscious homages to prior teen movies. However, a major reveal late in the second act makes hash of the already sloppy plot, and the finale is both nonsensical and as antisemitic as STRANGERS ON A TRAIN author Patricia Highsmith, which leaves a sour aftertaste.

IT'S A WONDERFUL KNIFE: Bizarre slasher movie pastiche of IT'S A WONDERFUL LIFE, about a teenage girl named Winnie Carruthers (Jane Widdop of YELLOWJACKETS), who kills the masked serial killer who's been terrorizing the small town of Angel Falls and murdered her best friend (Hana Huggins) at Christmastime. A year later, everyone in town seems to have gotten over it except Winnie, who's miserable. On Christmas Eve, she's magically transported into an alternate timeline where she was never born and the masked slasher has continued murdering people, including Winnie's brother (Aiden Howard). To set things right, Winnie has to stop the villain all over again with the help of Bernie Simon (Jess McLeod), the town outcast and the only one who believes her story. Not scary, gruesome, or suspenseful enough to be much of a horror movie, but there are enough grisly murders to make the comedic holiday fantasy aspects seem a trifle sociopathic, and a late reveal that the killer has supernatural powers beyond just stabbing or slashing people feels like one ingredient too many in an already convoluted plot. The main redeeming feature is that it's ultimately a gay love story, which I wasn't expecting, but appreciated nonetheless.

THE KILL ROOM: Uma Thurman, Samuel L. Jackson, Joe Manganiello, and Maya Hawke go slumming in this dumb black comedy about a handsome hitman named Reggie (Manganiello) who becomes the sensation of the art world after his mob intermediary (Jackson) concocts a scheme to launder Reggie's payments by selling his abstract paintings (under the nom de plume "the Bagman") through a burned-out, Adderall-snorting art dealer (Thurman). Intended satire of the cutthroat vacuity of the art world lacks bite and no part of the plot makes any sense, but sheer star power gets the movie through about half its 80-minute running time before the banality becomes terminal.

POLITE SOCIETY: Silly British action-comedy by Nida Manzoor (creator of WE ARE LADY PARTS) about Ria Khan (Priya Kansara, delightful), a Pakistani teenager who aspires to be a stuntwoman, and her quest to save her flaky art student older sister Lena (Ritu Arya, radiant) from marrying a handsome doctor (Ashay Khanna) who seems a little too good to be true. It looks great, and the characters are very charming, but the story waits much too long to clarify the stakes of the plot: Until the finale, we don't know if Lena is actually in any danger or if Ria is just letting her imagination run away with her, and that uncertainty becomes an unwelcome distraction in the later action sequences. As a result, it feels more like an update of the John Hughes perennial SIXTEEN CANDLES than the over-the-top action movie it obviously aspires to be.

SHIVA BABY: Low-key but vivid comedy of manners, written and directed by Emma Seligman, starring Rachel Sennott as Danielle, a bisexual 20something Jewish girl who secretly pays her bills as a sugar baby. When she goes with her parents (Fred Melamed and Polly Draper) to a shiva, she finds herself trapped with not only her most annoying relatives, but also her disgruntled ex-girlfriend (Molly Gordon), her current sugar daddy (Danny Deferrari), his gorgeous blond wife (Dianna Agron), and their new baby. Seligman milks every awkward nuance of this uncomfortable social situation for maximum dramatic effect, and the tension of the final scene (which is nothing more complicated than the characters trying to squeeze into the back of Danielle's father's minivan) will drive you right up the wall.

VOLEUSES (WINGWOMEN): Is it really possible for a 40-year-old Frenchwoman living in the 21st century to not know that lesbians exist? One wouldn't think so, but watching this jokey buddy-action movie suggests that director/co-writer/star Mélanie Laurent desperately needs some kind of educational intervention in that regard. This is for all intents and purposes a lesbian romance: Master thieves Carole (Laurent) and Alex (Adèle Exarchopoulos) live together, routinely sleep in the same bed, and plan to retire together; they constantly express their love and affection for one another, and when Carole discovers that she's pregnant (the hows of which are never explained), Alex immediately assumes that they'll be moms together. Nonetheless, the story not only attempts to no-homo this cozy domestic scenario, but also presumes that there's no way Carole and Alex's relationship could ever be the de facto marriage it obviously already is — indeed, a crucial story moment involves Carole tearfully wishing she were a man so she could love Alex the way she deserves! If the movie had been made 50+ years ago, this might be poignant, but in 2023, it's just weird, and the resulting cognitive dissonance largely overshadows the thin plot, which concerns Carole and Alex trying to persuade their bitchy, cheerfully murderous employer Marraine (Isabelle Adjani, barely recognizable beneath her big hair and oversized sunglasses) to let them retire, while training a younger woman named Sam (Manon Bresch) to become their driver and the ambiguously defined third in their domestic ménage à trois.

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my-rose-tinted-glasses · 8 months

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My memory is terrible so I wanted to do a breakdown of my stuff every once in a while. Might be monthly, might be whenever I feel like it.

BL - Currently Watching

7 Days Before Valentine [11/12] - Unlike some other shows, this one is actually getting better towards the end. I appreciate that Sunshine did some self reflection and became a better human being and I really enjoy the visuals here. Also, 7 days before valentine we will watch the finale, so that's neat.

Cherry Magic Th [7/12]– I like what the thai version is doing with the source material, I think they are being really smart and I'm so happy I got to watch the shopping date and the helicopter ride that were missing from the japanese live action.

Cherry Magic Anime [4/12]– I'm enjoying all the parallels way too much. Part of me wishes that it had stayed closer to the manga but since I get that also from Thailand, I can't complain.

Cooking Crush [9/12]– My expectations weren’t as low as maybe other people because I'm a OffGun fan but I am enjoying this show way more than I thought. It’s so refreshing to see good communication and well rounded characters that are given the space to work stuff out and be honest with each other. I feel for Samsee, cause, been there.

Dead Friend Forever [6/12]– this show continues to surprise me every week. I’m a big horror and slasher fan so for the premise alone I was gonna watch it. But I’m liking the way they chose to structure this story, moving from the slasher bit to the past at that moment was really smart. The visuals are so strong in this and I’m enjoying the communal murdering impulses towards the original friend group.

Ossan's Love Returns [3/12] - It’s chaos but the kind that only Japan can get away with for me. That season opener alone would’ve made me stop watching if it wasn’t for that. But the thing about these characters for me is that they get to be this ridiculous because it’s all grounded in such heart and kindness towards each other. It's a balancing act that only Japan can deliver at this level.

Playboyy [10/14] – I applaud the effort to make something new and out of the bl box, I think the show is trying to talk about interesting things and there are moments where the visuals are very strong. However, the acting is the weakest part of the whole thing and so I cannot connect to the characters, which leaves the whole experience kinda empty for me.

Although I Love You, and You? [3/10]- Japan my beloved. What’s there to say? Sakae is my new favourite boy and I’m really enjoying these two bridging the gap in their personalities.

The Sign [10/12]– Phaya and Tharn are delightful. Yai is the bestest boy ever. But there’s too many loose threads considering we only have 2 episodes left. There’s still to much going on and the investigation part of it just seems too disconnected for me to care. I really hope they're not counting on a special or a second season to wrap this up.

BL - Finished

Last Twilight – No need to repeat myself. here and here

Love for Love's Sake - What a wonderful surprise this was. Yeo Woon is one of the most adorable characters of all time and I seriously cannot handle it. From the beginning there was always a cloud over the whole story and I think in the end it all came together really well, to give us a happy ending that feels earned. Also really appreciated the way the story dealt with the triangle. Most of the time I hate them with a passion so I was really happy that Sang Won didn't just disappear and stayed in the group and kept teasing Yeo Woon. And now I'm just suppose to move on?

Night Dream – I liked the beginning a lot, but, as it’s becoming increasingly frequent, it dipped as it approached the end and although I liked how it finished I wasn’t a fan of the path to get there. Time skip once again not used well.

Sahara Sensei to Toki-kun - I have not seen the finale yet but I didn't want to wait so I might update this post when I watch it. However, Toki is my favourite boy, and I just want him to be happy.

VIP Only – Cute but ultimately forgettable.

Rose Watches OJBL

So this month I started my journey into older jbl stuff in order to have a bigger understanding of the landscape and what came before. With the help of the amazing @twig-tea I've started this journey with 2 films: Ai no Kotodama (2008) - Such a wonderful way to start this adventure. Really enjoyed this film. Without spoiling it, I understand that the beginning of the film might turn some people off of it but I think it's actually really smart and purposeful. I would definitely recommend it.

No Touching At All (2014) - Also really enjoyed this one. The direction is really interesting I thought. I feel it's all very intentional and it reflects very well the characters state of mind.

And because Cherry Magic opened the anime gates I also watched:

Given (2019) - This is SO GOOD. This show rewired my brain. Just now I was listening to THE SONG and I got emotional again. Every once in a while I enter this mindset where I feel like nothing that I watch can surprise me anymore. Then I watched this show. My thoughts after watching can be found here.

Not BL - Watched this month

The Killing Vote Taxi Driver 2 Vigilante Fermat no Ryori

Well, that's it I guess. Now I have to go and make some Love for Love's Sake gifs because I just can't move on and need to live there a little longer. Speaking of gifs, I'm always happy to take gif requests so let me know.

💜💜💜

#rose rambles #rosy watchlist #7 days before valentine #love for love's sake #pit babe the series #playboyy the series #although i love you and you #cherry magic th #cherry magic anime #no touching at all #Ai no Kotodama #given anime #the sign #ossan's love #cooking crush #multi bl #Rose Watches OJBL

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thestalkerbunny · 2 months

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I’m so interested in your slashers! Do you have any more art or specifics for their stories?

I've got a Few unfinished works

KINDA LONG but it's got a lot of JUICY DETAILSSSS.

Plus a BONUS SLASHER I FORGOT TO MENTION.

-The Handler and Fursuiter have been known to spare victims, often time only taking what they need; that usually being a leg. Handler has gotten alarmingly skilled at amputation with a high success rate. Handler does the cutting, Fursuiter does the sewing. They'll often let the victim pick which one if they're feeling kindly.

-They travel cross country in a shitty van. They rarely settle in one place and their often choice to crash is seasonal cabin homes; places that have fully functional amenities such as showers, toilets, working stoves and fridges. If it's an off season for the area they may hang around for a month or two.

-They are both roughly in their 30s possibly approaching 40 in a few years. For Killer Cannibals, they're actually alarmingly smart about how they go about things and have an entire retirement contingency in plan should one of them get injured to the point where 'hunting' their food is no longer a viable choice.

-Calvin 'Prom King' Black's father is actually a well known boxer in the area who tours the country. Although estranged from the family-Calvin knows how to efficiently fight thanks to him. So imagine you think you've disarmed the revenant slasher by knocking their weapon away only to get squared up on by a guy who actually knows how to throw a very solid punch.

-According to the school's legend, The Prom King and Queen always inevitably shack up after prom and become a couple. This sort of tradition is almost like a point of pride. However, Calvin, being a homosexual, rebuffed these advances rather quickly.

-Calvin's nomination to Prom King was actually sort of rigged. The student council at the time was sick and tired of the same popular people getting voted in as Prom Royalty and decided to secretly promote 'one of the lesser known members of the student body'. That being Calvin whose hobbies included skipping gym to smoke behind the building, reading Syfy Novels and having bad skin. None of it was actually done in malice, they genuinely believed they were doing Calvin a kindness.

-Calvin was around 19 when he was murdered-20 if he had lived to see the next summer.

-Mortimer is Collage aged (around 19.) but has yet been able to go due to financial issues/his dad favoring his sister over him/his dad being a general ass hat. If he could, he'd study psychology or art.

-Mortimer is trans, AFAB. His transition was poorly received by his immediate family who insisted on dead naming him at every turn and it began to look more and more ridiculous on their part the more masc Mortimer gradually became over time.

-His favorite movies are The Craft, Jennifer's Body, Rocky Horror Picture Show and Ginger Snaps.

-Mortimer's mother currently resides at a psych hospital where she receives assisted care for her condition. Mortimer hasn't seen her in years.

-The Original concept for Ephriam was shortly after X was released where I wanted a more.....visually appealing killer to stumble on a porn set. (The Mormonism is non-canonical) And has the aspects most of the fandom loves in a Slasher. Built af, scuffed up, long hair, scary face, Tits to die for and often times a quiet disposition.

-Ephriam's family farm actually used to be a site for satanic sacrifices in the 60s and was abandoned in the 80s. This resulted in the area being a bit abnormal as well as Ephriam's sort of unconventional physical appearance and his survival of what should have been a fatal gunshot wound to the face. While it has no effect on his parents aside from them being in pretty good health for an older couple-Ephriam who has been drinking from the well water and eating the pigs they slaughtered on the property since he was born, resulting in a healing factor for him, enhanced strength and other perks.

-The area where they take the pigs for slaughter is abnormal as the pigs will willingly lay down on what appears to be a naturally occurring slab and fall into a slumber that they do not wake up from, making slaughter rather humane. Ephriam's family used this spot for slaughter because of the angle of the stone, the fact it was near the house and is a good wide surface to clean the pigs and carve them up. Invertedly-Ephriam and his family are sacrificing animals to hellish entities that reward them with good health (though they haven't made that connection yet, they just all chalk it up to luck and good clean country living.)

BONUS TIME:

These two don't have names yet.

-He's not really a slasher-though he does KILL Slashers. Mainly since his twin sister is often targeted by Slashers since she's a hot girl in a sorority at a big name collage.

-They were conjoined twins at birth. REALLY conjoined. And it was only sheer LUCK that the doner parts came through to keep them both alive at the time. They've both undergone numerous surgeries over the years to repair and replace parts. The Boy opted out of the surgeries eventually because he was so tired of it all while his sister doubled down and looks much more human thanks to plastic surgery.

-It's a concept of Killers always attack sororities; plot twist incel-There's already a 6'9 guy welding a knife ready to defend his sister to the death hanging out in the kitchen. You really gonna try your luck? Gonna try and kill these girls cause you have unresolved issues with women not liking you. Gotta get through THIS DUDE FIRST. (and he has put down QUITE a few. Not just for his sister's sorority.)

-He's actually good friends with his sister's sorority. They view having him around as having scary dog privileges. His unique face is a bit of a shock at first, but they've become very comfortable with him being around. Very much a 'NO BOYS ALLOWED.....except for him, he's very very polite to us.' vibe at this Sorority.

-She's studying fashion and design while he's opting for the trade course (Welding, car repair, etc. etc.) Though if he chose to, he could very easily make very high marks in any field he chooses.

#TSB ask #Slasher ocs #Fursuiter #The Handler #Mortimer #Calvin Black #Prom King #Ephriam

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jupiter049 · 10 months

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The Doctor's status as the N°1 slasher enemy of the Daleks has basically become a meme by this point. Fighting and killing Dalek after Dalek after Dalek, using schemes and gadgets to destroy entire fleets of them in an instant.

Which makes it all very fascinating to watch the first Dalek story. The First Doctor had a loooooong way to go before even thinking of being considered the oncoming storm.

He has no screwdriver, he barely knows how to pilot the Tardis, he can't run without getting tired quickly, he isn't very good at bluffing or making plans, his knowledge and skills are extremely limited compared to his later incarnations, he lacks experience, etc.

Heck, if we ignore lore reveals that would come later on he has no weird Time Lord powers and by that no regeneration, meaning one clean shot and he is dead.

He is basically just a booksmart old man. The final part of the serial outright has him as a damsel in distress that needs to be saved and he isn't even the reason they defeat the Daleks.

It's curious because the serial does end with the destruction of all Daleks. Doing this usually comes with some type of moral dilema but here as a Dalek begs for help The First Doctor coldly and bluntly replies by saying he doesn't feel like helping them.

Beyond The Doctor being weaker and more cold, The Daleks are also stand out. The size of their empire is of a ridiculous lesser scale (it can't even be called an empire really, they have only their city here), usually destroying all of them requires some super busted weapon or energy source like the moment or time vortex but here they are defeated by one of them accidentally crashing against a power source lol.

Curiously, they are way less bloodthirsty as well, they are capable of using other tactics than mindlessly shooting at anything that moves, they outright shoot Ian just to simply stun his leg. They also don't seem very interested in exterminating anyone but the thals, they still hate what's different from them but they seem to be entirely focused on the Thals.

All of this actually makes for a very logical evolution. If their only purpose is to kill what's different from them then they would never stop at the Thals, they would never stop at their solar system, as they need to kill more and more they would need a bigger army and as they exterminate more and more they become more cold and prone to murder.

Nuwho commonly mystifies the events of Classic Who which makes it surprising to actually watch the show and realize that we do actually get to see The Doctor slowly becoming smarter and more empathetic and The Daleks more dangerous and evil.

#they both got their own accidental shonen main character journeys lmao #doctor who #classic who #the first doctor #1st doctor #dalek #daleks #the daleks #first viewing

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comorbidfascination · 1 year

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Norman: Routine Maintenance

You and Norman have taken care of the Bates Motel together for a few years now, but he prefers to keep your relationship private. You don't mind, since Mother is very particular about the guests she allows in the first place.

warnings: nsfw, amab reader, ass eating, dom/sub undertones

slasher masterlist here

You huffed indignantly to an empty room, lugging two overly stuffed suitcases through the door marked 'Employees Only.' The customers wouldn't be needing these for long, given your agreement with Mother. You were allowed to stay and help take care of both Norman and the motel on the condition that no women were allowed to stay there. You didn't really understand or care about her strange way of ignoring your relationship with Norman so long as you could be with him.

Mother was a protector of sorts for him, one that would only come out when she felt that their way of life was being threatened. She had blinders on around you, perhaps because you didn't fit the description of Norman's typical love interests, or maybe because of how clearly you cared for him. Either way, Mother had been silent for most of the time you'd known him.

It was when young, attractive women came to stay at the motel that she became agitated. The first time you'd met her was in a situation very similar to the current one: a woman checked in and Mother felt that she would take Norman away somehow. You had made excuses for the customer to leave, but she was insistent and things went too far. That woman was a corpse at the bottom of the lake now, and you had unfortunately become accustomed to clearing up possible evidence. It was a good thing the motel was on the edge of town.

Mother didn't like to speak to you - she preferred to pretend you didn't exist for the most part - so she was gone by the time Norman came to see you. "She says we need to get rid of her. It's fortunate she's traveling alone."

You sat on one of the ridiculously heavy suitcases and sighed. "Packed for a village, though."

Norman smiled and brushed your hair out of your face. "I'll take care of her, my love. Then we can go through everything."

It wasn't just Mother's fault that the motel didn't get a lot of business; it was hard to find and wasn't on a lot of maps. Selling what you could from the things left behind was what kept the place afloat.

"Thank you, baby. I think I'll get some other chores done while I wait."

"Don't overwork yourself, alright?"

You stood and kissed his cheek. "I won't."

Exiting the storeroom, you each headed in a different direction to get to work. With you there to ground him and help with everything, Norman had become more efficient in getting rid of unwanted guests. He had already tried to convince her to leave, but she was adamant about staying, so he would have to kill her. You'd bought him a small hand gun to make it easier for him. While he went to her room, you went to the kitchen to wash some dishes.

Less than an hour later, Norman returned to you. He was freshly showered and wrapped in a bathrobe. "It's all done, love. We can check the room later."

"Why's that?" He usually liked to get everything in order right away.

He waited for you to finish drying a plate, then leaned in to embrace you. He clung to your shirt and whispered, "I need you. Please."

You ran your fingers through his damp hair and held him close. "Do you deserve a reward, Norman? Or was this a messy one?"

He shook his head quickly. "No, I wiped up anything that spilled!"

You hummed thoughtfully. "You have been pretty good lately." Pulling back to look at him, you could see how easily he would fall apart for you. "Alright, honey. Go lay down, and I'll be there in a second."

He hesitated, squirming in your relaxed hold. Norman opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out.

You caressed his face and leaned in to coo, "Oh, poor thing. You can't wait that long, can you?"

His breaths were coming faster already. "No, sir." You'd never asked for the title, but he liked having a clear hierarchy.

As a significantly larger man, you were able to cage him against the nearest wall and make him shiver with nervous excitement. He never got used to the way you made him feel. You dragged your finger over his jaw, the column of his neck, and down his torso. His bathrobe opened up with a tug and Norman was laid bare before you. With a peck to his lips, you kissed down the same path until your knees hit the floor. He whimpered when he felt your warm breath on his thighs.

"Can I taste you, sweetheart?" You said it so innocuously, but his face burned bright red.

Norman closed his eyes and nodded, curling his fingers in your hair.

You appraised him and the positions you could put him in for a moment, then stood back up. "Here, baby. Turn around." You grabbed his waist and spun him to face the wall while you settled onto your knees in front of him again. He looked confused until you lifted one of his legs so he would put his foot on a stool next to you. With the angle shifted, Norman had to lean into you to keep his balance. You slid your other hand up the leg that was still straight on the floor, squeezing the thickest part of his thigh under his ass. Still holding up his other leg to keep him where you wanted him, you gently pulled his body closer so his cock brushed against your cheek.

Norman whined when you took the head into your mouth, and the sound morphed into a drawn out moan as you began to suck on it. He was insanely sensitive and you tried to go slow, but it was difficult when he kept bucking into you involuntarily. You had to move with him to keep from deepthroating him right away. Not that you were against the idea, but Norman couldn't handle so much stimulation right away.

He groaned when you licked the underside of his cock, fingers tightening in your hair. Not wanting it to be over too quickly, you pulled away. "Not yet, baby." His cheeks were flushed and his mouth hung open; he looked like he could cum at any second. Norman held onto whatever he could to keep steady, which included your shoulder. You turned to kiss his wrist and smiled. "Don't drop your leg."

He braced it more firmly on the stool and dug his nails into your skin as you kissed his tip, working your way down to his balls. You warmed them in your mouth and gave a few licks before releasing them to continue down to his hole. Norman let out a breathy sigh when you pressed your lips to his rim. He whined when you backed away to lick his thigh. "Please sir...I got myself ready for you."

"Oh? What a good boy." You held his legs apart so he couldn't close them around your head or lose his balance. "So perfect for me."

He shivered at the praise and pressed his body into your hands. Whispered pleas spilled from his mouth. You were enjoying the show, but took pity on him after a long look at how eager he was to let you debauch him. You leaned in to lave over his rim with your tongue. Your face was buried between his legs, and there was nowhere else you'd rather be. Norman rocked against you, hand on his now neglected cock. He murmured encouragement and praise, just as you would if your mouth was free.

You snuck a finger into his hole to pull him apart for better access. He was a little more relaxed than usual from prepping himself in the shower, as well as how worked up he was, but he wasn't gaping yet. You'd fix that soon enough. The hand on his thigh reached higher to grab his ass, making Norman yelp. You chuckled, sending vibrations into his skin. He was a mess above you, whimpering for you to make him feel good. You followed your finger with your tongue, working both further into him, until you found the right spot. Norman cried out and spilled his seed onto the wall behind you. Humming gladly, you attached your lips to his rim, tongue still inside, and sucked. He gripped your shoulder tight enough to bruise and gasped for air.

Giving him a moment to catch his breath, you pulled away and enjoyed the desperate, but not nearly satisfied, look on his face. "Alright sweetheart, I think you're ready for me." You carefully stood up and lifted Norman bridal style to carry him upstairs. In your shared bedroom, you laid him gently on the bed and let him see you stroke your cock. It was bigger than his and it made his mouth water. He reached for it, but you gently pushed his hand away and got on the bed.

When you had your back against the headboard and his against your chest, you turned his head to kiss him. Norman moaned sweetly into your mouth and rolled his hips onto yours. You had him in your lap, cock weeping precum onto his stomach where it curved up to rest near his. He rolled his hips again, experimentally, and you mumbled, "Yeah, baby. Just like that." You sat up a bit more so his weight would rest on your thighs. Holding his waist, you helped Norman drag himself along your cock; his balls and messy hole rubbed your shaft so well that you took hold of his stiffening cock to lightly rub the head as encouragement. He moaned and pushed down harder so everything between his legs would be coated in your pre.

Just before Norman could cum again, you reached under his legs to lift them up. Folded in half in your lap, the tops of his thighs brushed his abdomen. You whispered sweet nothings to him as you guided your cock into his now loose and sloppy hole. The angle put pressure on his stomach, and he felt every inch buried into his guts. He whimpered and whined like an animal as you shoved past his prostate. You peppered his neck with kisses and love bites as you used his body weight to force him down to the hilt. "Good boy, sweetie. You're doing so, so well for me." His breath hitched and his eyes rolled back as he tried not to cum. "Go on, baby. It's okay."

No sooner had the words left your mouth, than his cock was twitching and painting his body white. You no longer had the patience to wait, especially when he cried out your name like that. Holding him up by the backs of his knees, you bounced the smaller man on your cock, meeting him halfway each time with a slam of your hips against his cute little ass. He gasped and keened, tears dripping down his face. The sight only made you want more. Norman cried out as you fucked him even harder, "No! Please, no more!" But if he didn't use the safe word, you could pound him into a weeping, hiccupping mess.

"Please, sir! It's too much!"

"Do you remember what to say?"

He mumbled a yes, and didn't continue. Norman strained in your grasp, arching his back to lift his ass up higher. It only let you ram your cock in deeper, and you but his ear with a low growl as you wrenched his legs apart to watch as you filled him with cum. You bucked into him still, grinning at the way he sobbed and at the little pooch to his tummy from how well you stuffed him. You didn't pull out just yet, savoring the warmth as you rubbed the small bump. "Aw, don't you wish I could give you a baby?"

Norman sniffed and hid his face in your neck. "I'm not sharing you."

You laughed and kissed his head. "I know, I know, you're my baby." Your hand slid under your own balls to cup them and push your cock in deeper after it began to soften. You both hissed at the feeling, and you knew it wouldn't be long before you were ready to fuck him again. He might need some time to rest, however. "Do you want to clean up and take a nap?"

Norman lowered his legs to the bed. "Just for a bit. Then we can go again."

You slowly pulled out, savoring the way his ass tried to hold onto your cock. When he could move freely, he turned over to hold the sides of your face. "Thank you, sir." He kissed you softly, letting you take control as you wished. You allowed a bit more softness, wrapping your arms around him, then crushed his body to yours. He let out a squeak and you swallowed it in a deeper, more hungry kiss. You felt as though you might consume him with love and desire. Your teeth nipped at his lips and your tongue dominated his mouth as he melted into you. When you had to pull away, you were both breathing heavily. "How long?"

"Wipe off the mess, then I'll be ready."

You grabbed his ass with one hand and reached for a towel with the other. "Good boy."

#norman bates #norman bates x reader #x male reader #psycho 1960 #slashers #slasher x reader

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richincolor · 2 months

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New Releases

A nice mix of genres in this week's new releases which gives something for everyone.

Castle of the Cursed by Romina Garber Wednesday Books

After a mysterious attack claims the lives of her parents, all Estela has left is her determination to solve the case. Suffering from survivor’s guilt so intense that she might be losing her grip on reality, she accepts an invitation to live overseas with an estranged aunt at their ancestral Spanish castle, la Sombra.

Beneath its gothic façade, la Sombra harbors a trove of family secrets, and Estela begins to suspect her parents’ deaths may be linked to their past. Her investigation takes a supernatural turn when she crosses paths with a silver-eyed boy only she can see. Estela worries Sebastián is a hallucination, but he claims he’s been trapped in the castle. They grudgingly team up to find answers and as their investigation ignites, so does a romance, mistrust twined with every caress.

As the mysteries pile up, it feels to Estela like everyone in the tiny town of Oscuro is lying and that whoever was behind the attack has followed her to Spain. The deeper she ventures into la Sombra’s secrets, the more certain she becomes that the suspect she’s chasing has already found her . . . and they’re closer than she ever realized.

Finding Famous by Candice Jalili

Disney Hyperion

The Princess Diaries meets reality television in a story about fame (the kind you definitely didn’t ask for), first love (the kind you didn’t even know you wanted), and most importantly, family (the kind you can’t live without).

Ever since her mom died, Josie Lawrence has been content with her safe, predictable life. She hangs out with exactly two people: her best (and only) friend, Louise, and her stepdad, Matt. She has exactly one (unrequited) crush on resident high school himbo, Isaac. And she’s fully prepared to spend the end senior year preparing for Stanford and actively avoiding anything that reminds her of her mother.

But when Josie discovers that her biological father is the recently deceased Ali Mashad—patriarch of America’s original reality TV family, dripping with wealth, fame, and Vogue magazine covers—Josie’s “predictable” life is gone quicker than you can say “you’re doing amazing, sweetie.”

Being a Mashad means that the entire world is now at Josie’s feet—desperate to dress her, to photograph her, to know her—opening a door to a world that Josie never expected to find: one with a cute guy who just might be her soulmate, three ridiculous but wonderful sisters, and answers to all the questions she wishes she could ask her mom. But the biggest question of all is: If being a Mashad is the chance of a lifetime, will Josie be brave enough to take it?

The Blonde Dies First by Joelle Wellington

Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers

A group of friends fight to choose their own fates in this trope-savvy, self-referential young adult thriller from the acclaimed author of Their Vicious Games , about a demonic force that acts according to horror movie rules in the spirit of the Scream movies.

Devon is always being left behind by her genius twin sister, Drew. At this point, it’s a fact of life. But Devon has one last plan before Drew leaves for college a whole year early—The Best Summer Ever. After committing to the bit a little too much, the twins and their chaotic circle of friends learn why you don’t ever mess with a Ouija board if you want to actually survive the Best Summer Ever, and soon find themselves being hunted down by…a demon?

But while there’s no mistaking the creeping, venomous figure is not from around here, their method doesn’t feel very demonic at all. In fact, it’s downright human—going after them in typical slasher movie kill order. And that means Devon, the blonde, is up first and her decade-long crush, Yaya, is the Final Girl who must kill or be killed to end the cycle.

Devon has never liked playing by anyone else’s rules though, not even a demon’s, and the longer this goes on, the more she feels Drew and Yaya slipping away from her even as she tries to help them all survive. Can they use their horror movie knowledge to flip the script and become the hunters instead of the hunted? Or will their best summer ever be their last?

Eighteen Roses by Shannon C.F. Rogers

Feiwel & Friends

Lucia Cruz may be turning eighteen this year, but she is not the debutante type. Everything about a traditional Filipino debut feels all wrong for her. Besides, custom dictates that eighteen friends attend her for a special ceremony on her birthday, and Lucia only has one friend– Esmé Mares. They’ve stuck to each other’s side all throughout high school, content to be friends with only each other. At least, Lucia thought they were content.

As it turns out, Esmé wants something different out of her senior year. And, on top of that, Lucia’s mom has planned a debutante ball for her birthday behind her back. She’ll be forced to cobble together a court of eighteen “friends” before her beloved lola arrives from the Philippines for this blessed occasion.

How far will Lucia stray from her comfort zone in order to play the role of dutiful daughter and granddaughter? Will she do the unthinkable– participating in a school sponsored activity? Will she discover that her sense of humor can be a way to connect with people, not just push them away?

Firebird Caged by Maya Chhabra Jolly Fish Press

Ashley didn’t mean to get pregnant her senior year in high school. She didn’t mean to scare her hardworking and financially struggling mom, or to hide the truth from her awkward ex, Danny. She also didn’t mean to illegally take her well-off friend Madi’s prescription Xanax to cope with the stress—and she definitely didn’t mean to do it more than once.

When a doctor reports Ashley to the State of Wisconsin as a drug-addicted threat to her own unborn child, she is forcibly detained under the obscure and secretive Act 292 civil detention system for pregnant women, stranded in the county juvenile shelter home, and stigmatized by authorities who assign her fetus a lawyer but not her. It’s a struggle for Ashley just to get medical care for the pregnancy supposedly being protected—never mind fighting for her own freedom and making sure her baby isn’t taken away by social services after birth. Who’s going to protect Ashley herself?

But Ashley is stronger than anyone knows, and she has allies on the outside who believe in her. This is a fight Ashley can win—but only if she stops drifting passively, starts believing in herself, and chooses not to give in to despair.

Characterized by exciting, fast-paced plots and themes that are relevant for high school students, Horizon’s Hi-Lo books are both engaging and easy to read. Short chapters, simple sentence structures, and an accessible format make these books perfect for teen reluctant readers. Horizon books are written at a 2nd- to 3rd-grade reading level with an interest level of ages 14 and up.

#new releases #weneeddiversebooks #young adult books

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alecmagnuslwb · 11 months

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Friday Night Big Scream

Read on AO3

The too long laces of her converse shoes bounce against the concrete as they walk down the street Zatanna’s arm linked with John’s. The ground’s a little wet the rain ending just in time for Trick or Treating to begin as a thin layer of fog crawls along the ground giving just the right amount of spooky to the crowded streets.

They weave their way through hundreds of other costumed folks, dodging a line of little Power Rangers high on sugar who rush past them.

John and Zatanna come to a stop in front of the Landmark Opera Plaza Cinema, a small local theater she’s always been partial to, the marquee glowing proudly with tonight’s fare.

“Are you sure a movie marathon will satisfy your Halloween needs?” John says dropping her arm to twine their fingers together.

Zatanna smiles up at the marquee then at him. “Absolutely, Dinah and Ollie are out of the country so there’s no party worth our time and I already dragged you to three haunted hayrides this year,” she pauses with a smirk. He just scowls playfully in return; those hayrides were not as family friendly as he was told they would be. He had nightmares dammit, less terrifying than the one’s he usually has, but nightmares all the same. “Our costumes are top notch and their showing three of the finest slasher classics ever to exist. It’s gonna be a nice, easy Halloween.”

John nods his head satisfied with her answer. They step forward about to enter the theater bumping into another couple.

“Sorry, mate,” John says as one of the men looks at them.

“You two look fantastic,” he says as the pair saunters off not even missing a beat.

“Hell yes we do,” Zatanna says with a smile pulling John forward into the theater. She has once again gone all out on their costumes. This year opting to be Grace and Daniel from one of her favorite recent movies Ready or Not, it gave Zatanna an excuse to look damn pretty in white while John looks hot in a brown suit and teal shirt and has an excuse to carry around a whiskey glass all night that she can magically refill.

They give their tickets to the girl dressed as Batgirl in the booth and make their way into the massive theater. They skip the concession line for now, though Zatanna will be needing some popcorn soon enough, and head into screen room four. They’ve gone all out for the night, the lights are all lit up red, the walls covered in fake cobwebs and spiders and everything in between. A few animatronic slashers are set up here and there in the halls and at the edges of the seats.

John and Zatanna pass by screen room three where Freddy Kreuger stands and is having his own marathon, two young girls who look barely old enough to have bought their tickets tonight screaming in delight when he swipes out at them.

Their trilogy of choice isn’t quite as famous as that man of nightmares but it’s Zatanna’s hands down favorite.

The Killer Blade franchise is a blatant mish mash rip-off of Texas Chainsaw and Friday the 13th. The killer, quite obviously, carries a chainsaw in one hand, a machete in the other and sports a scarecrow like mask as he terrorizes young campers in the dead of the southern summer.

They’re corny and ridiculous and only get more so as the films progress, by the third film the killer has blatant healing powers that are never explained and the machete has become molded to his arm in a practical effect that’s essentially just duct tape. The final girl from the first film is portrayed by four different women across the movies, yes that’s right four. They couldn’t even keep one actress around to finish an entire film in the second installment.

They’re not great, but Zatanna has such fond memories of the schlocky 80’s slashers. They were the first horror movies she stayed up way too late to watch and couldn’t take her eyes off of. She remembers dressing up as Star Bradford, the series final girl, the first Halloween she was able to pick out her own costume and a few years later showing Zachary the first film and giving him nightmares for a month.

When she heard they were doing a big screen showing for one night only, she couldn’t think of any other way to spend the night.

Their screening is in the smallest screen room unsurprising considering Killer Blade isn’t exactly as popular as many of the big franchises.

They settle into their seats, unfortunately at the front of the theater. Zatanna hadn’t heard about the showing till it was almost too late snagging two of the last four tickets. She discreetly moves her hand a silent little spell under her breath that moves all the seats back subtly making it so their necks don’t have to crane uncomfortably up at the screen.

They settle in lifting up the armrest between them, John wrapping his arm around Zatanna’s shoulders his fingers softly running over her lace covered collar bone.

The first film breezes by a 90-minute gore fest that Zatanna delights in every second of. It’s been a while since she’s seen the movies, really sat down and watched them full through and she loves it just as much now as she did at 12 years old.

“Well,” Zatanna says slipping out from under John’s hold turning to him excitedly. He’s never seen the movies in their entirety only bits and pieces when he’s popped up and interrupted her viewings. “Incredible right?”

“That’s one word you could use,” John says with a snort.

“Oh, come on,” she says standing up and stretching out grabbing John’s hand and pulling him along with her into the lobby for the fifteen-minute break between the movies. “I heard you laughing at the jokes, even felt you jump a couple times.” She teases pushing open the door to the ladies’ room, John doesn’t even bat an eye as she drags him in along with her.

She steps over to the mirror adjusting her bandolier and fixing up her hair where the braid has loosened a bit from resting against John’s shoulder all movie long. John leans against the wall beside her and shrugs.

“I guess it was pretty fun,” he concedes pushing off the wall and wrapping his arms around her waist. Eyes meeting in the mirror with a small playful smile. Zatanna smiles back continuing to fiddle with her hair.

“I hate to say it, since we’ll never be getting married,” Zatanna says leaning back into John looking at the image they make in the bathroom mirror. “But damn do we look good like a bridal pair.”

John smiles at her pressing his face into her neck. A few other people move behind them clearly unbothered by the couple hogging the bathroom mirror. If the sounds from the second stall are any indication they’re definitely not the only couple in this bathroom anyways.

“A bit of a bloody wedding,” he comments brushing his hand over the blood splatter across her waist, his fingers fiddling with the bandelier of empty shotgun shells across her chest.

“Well if we were to get married, it’s safe to assume there’d be some bloodshed at the ceremony,” she muses.

John hums in agreement trailing his lips along her shoulder his hands moving in directions not appropriate for public viewing.

“And where do you think these are going?” she says lacing her fingers with his stopping his movement in its tracks.

“We can’t let those two have all the fun,” he says gesturing his head back for a beat towards the second stall just as a very loud moan comes from behind the door.

Zatanna chuckles pulling his hands around her tight before pulling them away and twisting to face him.

“I am not fucking you in a movie theater bathroom stall,” she says kissing him once quick on the lips before pulling away and heading for the door. John trails along behind her.

“We’ve done it in worse places,” he grumbles under his breath.

“We have not,” she laughs as they make their way back into the lobby pulling John by his undone bow tie into the concession line. She absolutely needs popcorn for the second movie.

“The basement of that haunted sanitarium in DC was way worse,” John argues.

Zatanna looks up contemplating. “Okay, maybe, but,” she defends. “We thought we were gonna die, dire circumstances makes one forget about germs.” She pauses once they get to the front of the line ordering a large bucket and paying, tossing an extra hundred into the tip jar with a wink to the girl behind the counter. “Also, the second movie starts in about five minutes and we will not be missing it.”

John dips his hand into the popcorn bucket taking a large handful and shoving it into his mouth. “Fine,” he says muffled through the buttery snack.

“Later,” she says with a flirtatious smirk backing into the doors and going back inside the theater. She reaches out running a finger along John’s lower lip licking the remnants of salt and butter off her finger holding his eyes the entire time.

John swallows the last of the mouthful of popcorn hard. “How long are these two left?”

“Three is the longest, just a little over two hours,” she says with glee settling back into her seat tapping John’s whiskey glass to fill it automatically. “Two is another cool 90 minutes. Think you can hold out?”

“I am a man of strong will and great endurance,” he says taking another handful of popcorn, setting his glass aside.

“I mean I don’t know if I’d call the endurance great,” she teases hooking an ankle around his.

“Rude,” John says shoving at her playfully. The lights go down, the movie starting to roll on the screen. “I’ve never heard you complaining.”

“Well now that you mention it,” she chuckles clearly just messing with him.

“I cannot believe you,” he says with a laugh throwing a little bit of popcorn at her. She tosses it back at him just as the production company insignia crawls across the screen.

She shushes him as she settles back in comfortably underneath his arm.

The first twenty minutes are pure trash attempts at being cinema all shot in black and white telling the loose origin of Killer Blade that makes not one ounce of sense and isn’t referenced ever again. Things get really good in Zatanna’s opinion when things go back to color the camp counselors of the second film, including final girl Star, now played by a different actress, who for some reason decides it’s a good idea to help reopen the camp where her friends were all murdered two years prior by a madman with no motive other than to kill that disappeared into the night without a trace.

It’s a rapid ride that she falls into easily forgetting how much time passes watching with rapt attention as if she hasn’t seen it dozens of times before. So of course she notices something wrong with the film in an instant. At first the screen crackles a bit, a passable glitch she brushes off, but then it happens again. This time along with the screen warping unnaturally. She sits up straight, John taking notice their eyes meeting for a beat before returning to the screen.

Zatanna scans the audience as the ground shakes, light bursting out of the screen. No one else seems to notice; all just happily watching the film without a care in the world.

The screen morphs again, Zatanna pushes the popcorn out of her lap her hands at the ready, magic just at her lips. But she’s not quick enough two hands still showing the movie across them reach out grabbing each of them by the neck.

They both fight back John biting at the hand while Zatanna kicks at the one holding onto her. They don’t so much as flinch pulling the both of them in closer and closer to the screen till they’re going straight through it. The sounds of a chainsaw and the blood spatter of the unsuspecting gas station attendant enveloping them.

Everything goes dark for a moment, a scene change, then they’re both being thrust hard onto the ground landing face first into dewy grass. Gone is the just right temperature of the movie theater, replaced now by the warm breeze of a summer evening. The darkness of the theater no longer surrounds them instead the slow burn of a summer sundown.

Zatanna sits up with a groan. “John,” she says shoving at his back, he groans in response slowly lifting himself up. Zatanna looks around the trees swaying in the wind, she shifts the other way and there she sees it the bright red Camp Crystal Arawak sign she currently has a replica of hanging over her big screen tv at home.

“Holy shit,” she says. John twists looking the same way she is.

“Are we-“

“We’re in Killer Blade 2,” she says half in awe that she knows she shouldn’t be feeling. “We’re in Killer Blade 2,” she says again lifting up from the ground, a little more enthusiastic this time. She knows this is probably bad, but she can’t help it.

“Probably not a good thing, love,” John says lifting himself up from the ground trying to reign in her excitement.

“I mean, yeah, probably not. Probably a villain did this to mess with us,” she says eyes looking all around taking in the scenery like she’s never seen it before. “But come on, I mean who hasn’t wanted to live inside their favorite movie?”

“I haven’t,” John says dusting the grass off of his suit.

Zatanna turns giving him an eyeroll over her shoulder. “Well, that’s because your favorite movie is A Clockwork Orange.”

“And your favorite movie is about a man with a machete for a hand,” he shoots back.

“Not until the third one,” she says reaching back. “Come on, the massacre hasn’t started yet, that’ll give us time to figure out how to get out of here.”

“Oh goody the massacre hasn’t started,” John says taking her hand.

They walk under the large arching sign and it’s almost as if the air shifts, the warm summer night giving way to a cooler breeze as if the space knows it’s about to become a wasteland of death. Zatanna points naming out cabins and which characters will perish where as they walk through the campgrounds. Her hand reaching out every now and then to run her fingers along the set she’s memorized every inch of.

A few teens portrayed by twenty and thirty somethings come barreling out of a cabin laughing.

“Shit,” John says trying to pull Zatanna behind one of the cabins so they’re not spotted. He assumes that will just make things more complicated.

“It’s fine they probably can’t see us, they’re scripted they can’t move off of it,” Zatanna says continuing to move forward.

“Hi, y’all!” one of the campers shouts. Zatanna and John freeze in their tracks.

“Or maybe they can go off script,” she swallows turning around. Janet, the films signature slutty girl, is waving at them frantically not a care in the world.

She’ll have cares soon enough when her macabre ending comes because she just can’t resist running off to the woods for one quick blow job with mega jock Brad who will die with his pants at his ankles.

“Hi!” Zatanna waves back a corny smile across her face. She nudges John with her elbow and he joins along a little less effort put into his smile.

“Are y’all lost?” she says that thick southern girl accent she’s putting on mixing with the actresses’ natural valley girl cadence.

“Sort of,” Zatanna says putting on her own little southern twang. John looks at her wide-eyed mouthing a question of what she’s doing. “Roll with it,” she whispers under her breath as Janet makes her way towards them, perky and practically bouncing with every step. Brad and a few of the nameless body count stroll along behind her.

“Oh, no!” she says rushing right at Zatanna giving her a hug not questioning their outfits or the bandolier of shotgun shells she’s wearing. Bless this sweet, horny girl.

“What’s up with the get ups?” Brad asks, at least having a little more sense to question their presence.

“You see we were at a costume party at the old West-Cain cabin on the other side of the lake and it got broken up by the cops,” Zatanna says coming up with a quick story using her knowledge of the movie’s landscape to her advantage. A party occurring prior to the events of the film at the cabin they’ll spend the entire movie trying to get to is a passable excuse for their presence. Especially for this crowd.

“And our ride ran off without us and left us stranded in the woods,” Zatanna continues with an overdramatic rolls of her eyes. “We just started walking and luckily stumbled upon y’all.”

“Well thank goodness you did; those woods get really spooky after dark. Especially after what happened,” Janet says with a shiver. She reaches out grabbing Zatanna’s hand pulling her along not giving any further information. That’s okay Zatanna knows better than her what happened. “I’m Janet and this is my boyfriend Brad.” She says pointing to the blonde walking alongside them. The nameless body count characters have peeled off ahead of them heading towards the dining hall.

“I know,” Zatanna says accidentally, Janet giving her a funny look. “I mean it’s printed on your shirt.” She quickly corrects, Janet looks down at her shirt like she’d forgotten that fact and possibly even forgotten her own name.

“Oh, yeah,” she says with a giggle.

“I’m Zat-” she starts deciding her name might be a little too complicated for this group. “Zee,” she says instead. “Just Zee,” she smiles at Janet throwing a hand over her shoulder. “And this is my boyfriend John.”

John snorts. She never calls him that, it’s what he is technically speaking, but the word never seems to fit for them. “Good to meet you,” he says.

“Ooh,” Janet says shimmying her shoulders. “From jolly old London are we?” she says putting on a god-awful British accent, mixing terribly with the two she’s already battling.

“Liverpool technically.”

“Like the Beatles,” Brad says with a nod of his head slapping his hand down on John’s shoulder with a loud clap. “Cool.”

John just gives Brad a thumbs up and a slightly grimaced smile rubbing at his shoulder as they walk up the steps to the dining hall.

“We’ll get you guys all set up in here,” Janet says dropping Zatanna’s hand and pushing open the double swinging doors. “Anton is the only one with a car, he doesn’t love driving at night, but I’m sure he’d be able to give you two a ride into town. He’s too nice to say no.”

“Oh, that’s not necessary,” Zatanna says emphatically looking over at John. “Truly we can just get a little water and head back out there.” Look for magic signatures, find a portal or some sort of tear they can slip through to get back into their reality. Anton will be a hindrance to that.

“Nonsense,” Janet says dragging them along and introducing them to other counselors in the room. They may be going off script here, but Zatanna can’t help but notice she only gives names to the characters who are given them in the movie.

Anton is happy to help, a do gooder who will lose his head in act three, twirling his keys around with a wink before heading out to his car. Zatanna knows for a fact he will find his tires slashed, the night of terror truly about to begin.

“You two just sit here and drink these,” Janet says settling them at a table. Brad sits two glasses of water in front of them. “I’ll be right back.”

She won’t, if the leer Brad gives her as she walks away is any indication.

“So what’s the costume?” Brad asks turning the chair on the other side of the table backwards and sitting down in front of John.

“It’s from a movie,” John says not going into further detail.

Brads hums. “I don’t watch a lot of those.”

“Ironic,” John says leaning back.

“Yeah, totally,” Brad says absolutely not knowing what the word ironic means. He gets up with a nod jogging over to Janet wrapping his arms around her waist, shoving a hand down the front of her tiny shorts.

“Well that’s subtle,” John says watching them slip out of the side door.

“Yeah they’re about to die,” Zatanna says using her normal voice turning her body towards his. “Look, we’ve got to get a move on and find our way out of here, cause shit is about to hit the fan.”

She lowers her voice leaning into John. “Us being here isn’t affecting the plot all that much, Anton is going to go to his car and find the tires slashed. Then on his way back he’s gonna find Janet and Brad’s bodies. It’s pretty much a non-stop kill fest from there.”

“Let’s try and not be a part of that,” John says getting up from his chair. They make their way to the little backdoor they watched the couple slip out of moments ago when the kitchen door swings open blocking their path.

The walking epidemy of the 1980’s teen dream steps out. He’s got that same curly hair like the boys in Nightmare on Elm Street, rocking a crop top and denim shorts, baseball cap clipped to one of his belt loops. It’s a look she has managed to wrestle John into a few times and it delights her to no end.

“Oh my god, that’s Ray Bronson,” Zatanna says excitedly twisting them away from the door a bit.

“Who?”

“Ray Bronson,” Zatanna says sounding half in love. John tries not to be jealous. “He was a bonafide scream queen in the 80’s and 90’s. His character, CHARLEY, was originally supposed to survive this movie alongside Star, but he was dating Sidney Strode at the time and when she quit the movie he refused to be in the third film so they rewrote the ending.”

She steps away from John lingering near Ray Bronson as he shares high fives and bro hugs with a few other guys in the room. John follows after her.

“You could tell production was mad at him for bailing cause his ending is grisly,” she sighs quietly looking the man up and down.

“How grisly?” John says trying not to get the guy’s attention, keeping his voice low.

“Him and Star get split up and first one of his arms goes through the meat grinder in the cafeteria, he gets away bleeding like crazy. Then he gets his legs chain sawed off and as he crawls away somehow still conscious the killer picks him up and ties his only remaining limb to the back of a truck and does doughnuts in the field till CHARLEY smacks into a tree and basically his whole body explodes. It’s disgusting,” Zatanna says with a delighted grin.

“You look far too happy about that,” John says with a chuckle.

“Don’t get me wrong CHARLEY is dreamy as hell and you root for him in a way you don’t root for anyone but Star cause he’s a genuinely a great horror movie boyfriend, but the FX team goes all out for his big death scene,” she says with a fond nostalgic smile. She can be a real freak sometimes, John loves it.

The front door swings open again and the music swells. Zatanna and John look up finding no plausible source for the music, the generic 80’s pop playing from the radio is gone, the score taking over welcoming its final girl back to the screen.

The room freezes all eyes on her as she makes her way over towards CHARLEY.

“Star 2.0,” Zatanna whispers watching as a tall tanned woman flips her long black hair over her shoulders. Her outfit is different than a lot of the others, the blue and white polo replaced with a red t-shirt sporting the name of the camp, a little white washed denim jacket on top of it. It’s the outfit Zatanna sported for Halloween all those years ago. “She’s not my favorite Star, but she has the best final girl scream. This is so cool.”

John gives her look.

“Okay, potentially extremely dangerous, but also,” she pauses gesturing wildly to their surroundings. “Camp Crystal Arawak. I wanted to go here so bad when I was a kid, I was bummed when I realized it wasn’t a real place.”

“You wanted to come to the murder camp?”

Zatanna just shrugs with a little smile.

“You were a twisted little one, weren’t you?” John says fondly.

“Maybe just a little bit,” she says with a playfully tilt of her head. “Come on, Anton’s about to bust in it’ll be a good distraction for us to get out there and investigate.”

***

Night has fallen completely by the time they slip outside and out on the ridges of the camp not far from Anton’s car Killer Blade is waiting, lurking. Zatanna guides them in the opposite direction, better to avoid the killer for as long as possible.

The woods are quiet, largely carnage free for now as they make their way through the trees. Zatanna snaps her fingers trying and failing to find magic at her fingertips.

“Dammit,” she says a flicker of light coming from her fingers for a second, immediately expunged. “My magic is on the fritz.”

“Same here,” John says tapping at the exposed sigil on his collarbone, it doesn’t even flicker to life for a full second.

They continue walking along looking for some sort of magical energy signature until a rustle comes from the right. They briefly stop, but Zatanna keeps them walking along as if nothing has been heard.

“White guy, pony tail,” Zatanna says under her breath keeping close to John. She watches as he dives behind a tree thinking he’s gone unnoticed.

“There are several of those here,” John murmurs back. Zatanna looks the way of their potential bad guy again, the goatee man sneaking his head out from behind it for a second. For a bad guy capable of something this elaborate he sure is acting like a cartoon villain in the moment.

“That one,” she says inclining her head towards the tree line. “He’s not in the movie,” The man slinks back behind the tree disappearing into the background of the movie.

“You sure?”

“You saw his outfit, all black, long jacket; that’s out of place at a summer camp. Plus I’ve seen these movies a hundred times, I know every detail down to the background actors and he’s not one,” she says stepping towards the tree, John following right behind her.

Zatanna attempts to ready her hands with magic, but it flickers out once again. The man behind the tree snarls when they make eye contact and immediately twists making a run for it.

“No you don’t,” John says chasing after him.

He doesn’t get far, John may smoke a pack a day, but when he’s stubbornly determined enough the man can run. He catches up to the guy tackling him to the ground the two struggling with each other rolling on the grass. Zatanna comes to a stop in front of them watching as John gets the upper hand pushing the man into the grass.

“You cannot hold the demon of illusion!” he shouts ripping his hands into the grass a flickering beam of bright white light coming up through the ground. He sinks his hands into the light disappearing in an instant the light closing up right behind him causing John to fall face first into the grass.

“Fuck!” he shouts his voice lightly muffled by the grass.

“Demon of illusion,” Zatanna says. “I appreciate that demons have just started introducing themselves with job title cards, it really cuts down on the research time.”

“Doesn’t help us get out of here though,” John says getting up from the ground.

“Illusion explains why no one else in the theater reacted when we got sucked in. And it explains why his powers work, but ours don’t he’s in control of the whole thing,” Zatanna puzzles with his reasoning though. “Did we do something to this guy? Did you beat him in a poker game?”

John just shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t think so, of course some of those games are a bit of a blur.”

A piercing scream sounds in the distance.

“Did you hear that?” John says looking up from where he’d been scuffing at the grass the demon had disappeared through.

“The massacre has started,” Zatanna says grabbing John’s hand. “We should head back.”

“We should?” John says incredulously running alongside her.

“The demon probably wants to see us go through it and we can’t do that if we’re just wandering in the empty woods,” Zatanna says increasing her pace. “Plus I kinda want to see it if we’re being honest,” she adds on with an apologetic smile, gritting her teeth.

The screams get louder as they get closer, the whirring sound of a chainsaw slashing through the night air.

Zatanna skids to a stop, John crashing into her back. Her eyes are locked upward and John follows her line of sight. Before them stands a behemoth of a man clad in a white long-sleeved shirt and dark overalls, heavy work boots caked in mud and a lightly burnt scarecrow mask over his face. He sheaths the machete in his right hand into his blood splattered overalls choosing instead to rev his chainsaw back to life.

Zatanna backs up as Killer Blade takes a slow step their way. She and John end up side by side backing up slowly. John reaches out an arm ready to block Zatanna and take this chainsaw for the both of them if he has to.

Zatanna raises her hands, “Kconk siht rellik otni eht eerts!”

Nothing happens. Killer Blade just tilts his head inquisitively at her.

“Shit!” Zatanna says dropping her hands pulling at John’s back. “Not just a glitch, magic definitely doesn’t exist in this world.”

She pushes John down the both of them just narrowly keeping their heads as Killer Blade swipes the chainsaw at them. They take off in a run faster than either of them have ever run heading back in the direction of the cabins.

“I thought the killer had magical powers?” John asks as they run looking over his shoulder. Killer Blade is catching up somehow despite the fact he’s walking at a snail’s pace compared to them. Slasher movie logic hard at work.

Zatanna shakes her head pulling John to the right away from the dining hall. There’s nothing but abandoned dinners in there and within the next few minutes Killer Blade will find his way inside and give Marcie the cook a new haircut. Scalp free. “Not until the third movie and it’s never explained as magic so kind of a grey area anyways.”

She rushes them to cabin 28 pushing at the door that blissfully hasn’t been barricaded yet. Not that the barricade does much good.

Star screams high pitched and perfect for the silver screen; Zatanna screams right back on instinct. John pulls her back the screaming settling down.

“He’s back,” Star shudders pushing past Zatanna and John to pull at the screen door tight as it slaps in the wind.

“We noticed,” John says and CHARLEY gives him a questioning sharp look that John just ignores.

“If we stay put and wait Freddy will be here soon,” Star says pushing a dresser in front of the door. CHARLEY rushes over to help her. God, Zatanna loves her, but she doesn’t utilize a single thing she learned from the first movie for the first two acts.

“Freddy’s not coming and we need to get out of this cabin,” Zatanna says putting her little accent back on. She doesn’t want to bring on questions about her lack of cute little southern accent distracting them. They need to get out of here, they need to find the illusion guy and they need to stay alive. She also knows that Freddy is not coming, the owner of the camp is very, very dead broken into two over a tree stump outside the West-Cain cabin that only Star will reach in the end.

“She’s right,” Anton says. A voice of reason for at least the next five minutes. “We need to get to the phone in the craft cabin.”

It’s broken, not even by the killer, just by poor maintenance. But it is logically where the story goes next. The script finds a way.

A quiet scratching comes from the outside, the metal of a machete running along the jagged wood outside.

Everyone in the cabin freezes for a beat, screaming when the machete pushes through the screen door.

“Out the window!” Zatanna shouts shoving her way to the back. She’s slightly stealing Anton’s final attempted hero moment, but she can’t be bothered. Killer Blade slashes at the door shoving at the dresser blocking his entrance.

She takes a breath cringing a bit before she crashes her elbow through the glass of the back window. She knows for a fact it’s stuck and there’s no time to waste for her and John. John comes up beside her helping clear the shards before hoisting her up and out of it.

He follows her, Star and CHARLEY sliding out behind him. Anton, Zatanna knows is scuffling inside with the killer and he won’t be making it to the window.

“Anton,” CHARLEY shouts about to reach back inside, but Star pulls at him to run.

The craft cabin isn’t too far, but the killer is nice and distracted hacking Anton to bits right now and soon he’ll mow down a line of nameless camp counselors while Star finally re-finds her gumption. They have time and they’ll find two other survivors there.

***

The craft cabin is playing out exactly as it should. The phone doesn’t work, everyone panics and unbeknownst to the characters in the room, they’re the last five standing.

Star meanwhile is quietly finding her strength, building a weapon that will take her further than you’d ever expect out of a shovel from the gardening supplies in the back, loading her pockets with toxic spray paint that will save her life when she and CHARLEY get separated on their way to her salvation.

“We have to get out of here and find that illusion demon fast. He can’t be far, he’ll want to see us get chopped up,” Zatanna says talking to John but watching Star as the music swells her moment of power coming to a head.

“Out there doesn’t seem so safe,” John says ignoring as the room around them descends in to mild chaos. Star announces her plan to run to the West-Cain cabin, but the arguments end quick, CHARLEY taking hold of his girlfriend’s hand, nothing but a sharp pair of scissors as his weapon, as they confidently storm out of the doors.

“We’re running out of time, that was Sidney Strode’s last scene, when Star walks back through that door,” Zatanna says turning to the big green swinging door with the bloodied handprints on it the couple just walked out of. “She’s gonna be Renai Lambert who plays her for the remainder of the film which is only about twenty minutes.”

“What do you think happens to us if the movie ends and we’re still in it?” John wonders.

Zatanna shrugs. “There’s only one ever one final girl in the Killer Blade films,” she says ominously.

“Let’s go then,” John says rushing for the still swinging doors. Faint protests from the remaining survivors huddled in the corner call after them, but they ignore their pleas. They slip around the corner, off to the side away from where the moonlight catches on the killer’s rusty blade.

They make their way back into the tree line, John letting Zatanna be his guide. She knows exactly where the killer will be.

“I have an idea,” she says stopping when they find a patch of well grown earth. She reaches down taking a clump of dirt in hand along with some ivy and flowers. “Magic in our sense doesn’t exist in this universe. It’s born out of myth and humanity that doesn’t exist in this world, but magic of the earth? That exists in nature, in all nature.”

“The green,” John says watching as Zatanna closes her eyes and focuses. The green isn’t an expertise either of them have, but they’ve been friends with Swamp Thing long enough to know a bit to get by. Tracking using the earth is easy if you have the right belief, attitude and intentions. And Zatanna is filled to the brim with all three as their clock starts to run out of time.

John keeps watch as she centers herself the dirt falling through her fingers, the flower and ivy glowing a bit to life. She doesn’t understand the green, she never could she isn’t connected to it in the way people like Alec are, but she knows how to respect it, how to ask for its help in small ways. A tracking spell for a man that’s clearly set them up for a grisly movie worthy demise she believes isn’t asking too much.

The dirt swirls in the air drifting out on the wind like the living thing it is, the flower and ivy following along.

“John,” she says opening her eyes pointing forward. The little bit of earth moves fast in the air and they follow behind it quickly.

The earth leads them right to their target, sporting an evil smirk.

“Your end is near,” he says.

“Nah,” Zatanna says simply rushing at him. She rams at him knocking him into a tree hard. She struggles with him for a moment pressing her knee into his stomach holding him in place. He moves his hands about to pull the same trick he did before, but John’s quick to their side stamping hard down on one of his wrists and grabbing the other hand tight.

“You can’t stop me, you can’t break free,” he spouts. “You wronged me and you’ll pay.”

“We don’t even know you,” John says twisting the wrist in his hand. The demon grits his teeth.

“Of course, just another demon who’s crew you banished to hell. Just another on your laundry list of banishments. Well you won’t forget me now, when you burn in hell you’ll remember my name. You’ll remember the demon of illusion who ended your life through the plot of a silly little human film. You’ll remember Choronz-“

“Are you actually doing a big villain speech right now?” Zatanna says with a sigh cutting him off.

The demon looks taken aback. “I was trying to,” he says angrily.

“You really shouldn’t, it’s very generic of you,” she says angering him further. He blasts a shot of magic at John knocking him back a few feet, using his leverage to kick up at Zatanna. He scrambles upright, but Zatanna is on him once again, swinging a fist that connects right with his jaw. He twists around John landing another hit to the other side of his face. They don’t always need magic to win a fight.

He fights back, or tries to at least, every attempt he makes at waving magic their way they duck, quicker than him. Catching him hard in the gut or the neck or wherever they can reach with every movement.

Zatanna shoves him back to the ground John kicks him hard in the chest, a few times over for good effort and that’s when Zatanna spots it, a burst of light like the one the demon had created in the ground when he disappeared earlier.

“John get him up,” she says and John does so lifting the demon by the collar of his coat. His power might be impressive, but his endurance is not. He clearly relies on his illusions to do all the work and when he tries a different way he loses his grip on even that.

John hits him hard and square in the eye and the crack in the scenery grows, more light pouring out of it. The sounds of thunder rumble in the distance, a crack of lightning too bright and violent to be real. The music swells again, this time some 80’s metal hair band ballad playing.

Zatanna looks up just a John punches the demon hard in the gut again, a slow crawl of words coming down at them. The credits are rolling, their time is up.

She wastes no time tackling both John and the demon through the crack of light. They land hard on the floor, the sticky carpeted stairs of the theater not having the gentle give of the summery grasslands.

The demon tries to scramble away put John pulls him down by his long coat. Zatanna brings her hands at the ready her magic tingling at her fingers, regaining its strength in the world where it belongs.

“Hsinab siht owt-tib wohsedis nomed ot lleh,” she says a wave of burning hot fire leaving her hands and hitting the demon head on as he attempts to knock John with his elbow. The demon goes up in a cloud of burning flames, screaming for a moment before he’s nothing but ash falling to the ground.

John and Zatanna’s eyes meet the two letting out a synchronized breath of relief.

“Ummm,” a voice sounds and Zatanna turns. The credits stop rolling the room going silent, just the blank, confused faces of their fellow movie goers staring at them.

Zatanna bites her lip a forgetting spell at the front of her mind, before her stage presence kicks in bowing to the people with a wave instead.

“Happy Halloween!” she says in a cheery voice nudging John with her foot encouraging him to give the audience a wave as well. He does so, just not quite with the flair she possesses.

They all begin clapping immediately none the wiser that what just happened was real, even if they all still look a little confused what any of it has to do with the movie. It’s Halloween, weird shit happens all the time. She hears a couple near the front whisper to one another about how realistic practical effects have gotten.

“Let’s go home,” Zatanna says pulling John up and hastily down the aisle and out of the theater.

***

Zatanna runs her fingers along the contents of the closet adjacent to her bedroom a tired smile on her lips as she hangs their freshly magically cleaned costumes up alongside the collection of previous years.

She closes the closet door with a flick of her wrist before gliding down the stairs to her recently magically built entertainment center. She’s traded in her lacy dress for an old Killer Blade t-shirt she’s had since high school and some little jack-o-lantern shorts.

“You sure you’re not too disappointed we didn’t finish the trilogy at the theater?” John asks lying flat on his back on the couch a bowl of popcorn resting on his stomach. He tosses a few pieces in the air, only actually catching one in his mouth.

“After the hands-on experience we had tonight a comfortable at home viewing is more than enough,” she says tapping her Camp Crystal Arawak sign before making her way over to him. She picks up the bowl of popcorn just as he grabs another handful once again largely missing his mouth sitting it aside on the floor. She ignores the mess nudging his legs, he gets the message making space for her. She climbs on top of him making herself comfortable against his chest letting her hands drift up under his sleeveless Hellraiser shirt.

John hums bringing one arm around her and reaching into the pocket of his skeleton sweatpants Zatanna bought him earlier in the month for the remote. He presses play the opening title card of Killer Blade 3: The Final Stab splashing onto the screen.

“You enjoyed being in the movie too much,” he says with a smirk tossing the remote on the floor beside the popcorn bowl laying his hand none to discreetly on her pumpkin clad butt.

“I think I enjoyed it the exact appropriate amount,” she says scratching her nails at his sides playfully. He squirms moving his other hand to the small of her back pushing her shirt up dragging his fingers across her skin.

“You reveled in being chased by that psycho,” he says moving his fingers up higher along her spine.

“I didn’t revel, I simply partook with a normal amount of horror fan enthusiasm,” she corrects lifting up her head digging her chin into his chest with a smile. “Now shush,” she says turning her head back to the tv. “I’m watching the movie.”

John chuckles tilting his own head toward the screen, a perfectly timed rumble of thunder sounding just as Killer Blade, now equipped with superpowers and a poorly structured machete hand, takes over the screen. Blissfully just on the big screen this time, right where he belongs.

#my fic #john constantine #zatanna zatara #johnzee #magicblazersource #magicblazer

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