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klbwriting · 5 months

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Surface Tension

Chapter 10 - Somewhere Only We Know

Fandom: Aquaman

Pairing: Ormxfemale!Reader

Warnings: some violence

Summary: Orm comes to terms with his past, and Y/N puts the plan into action

Notes: almost done! Just a couple more chapters! I want to thank everyone who has read, liked, commented, etc on this work. Its hard writing anything and it feels so nice when someone says they like it, so thank you! song is 'Somewhere Only We Know' by Keane

Taglist: @hyperagitatedcydonian13 @gabrieleskywalker @philiasoul @duchcess

This could be the end of everything So, why don't we go somewhere only we know?

Orm was standing on the beach, watching something floating towards the shore. His heart sank as it got closer. It was a body, Y/N’s body. He moved, picking her up and carrying her up to her chair on her porch, setting her down.

“Y/N?” he said, shaking her gently. She opened her eyes slowly and looked at him.

“Why did you do this?” she asked. Orm frowned. “Why didn’t you save me?” She closed her eyes, and he knew she was gone.

“I tried…I tried…I tried,” he repeated, falling into her lap as he sobbed.

“Orm, wake up!” Atlanna said, shaking her boy. He woke, sitting up from the bed he had in the lighthouse. He was pale, stomach turning. Aria was standing in a corner, eyes fixed on him. “It was a nightmare.” His mother held his face, leaning her forehead to his like she did when he was child.

“I can’t save her. I can’t do anything,” he whispered. Atlanna shook her head. “Mother, is this what it felt like? When you had to leave here? Everything feels like its ending.”

“Yes, that’s what it felt like to leave Tom and Arthur…but that’s also what it felt like when I was forced to leave you,” she said. Orm looked at her. He knew her banishment to trench was forced by his father, but he always figured she hated being in Atlantis anyway, hated his father, hated him, so death might have been a relief. He never imagined leaving him had hurt her like this. He took a breath.

“Did you talk to her?” he asked her. She nodded.

“She told me to tell you she would see you again, but not just on Halloween?” she said, not sure still what Y/N had meant. Orm smiled. She planned on coming back to him alive and well. Her confidence made him feel better. “I’m glad you know what she meant.”

“What are you doing about actually freeing her?” Aria asked from her post by the window. “Or are you just leaving her there to stew for awhile?” Atlanna frowned and looked at the girl.

“Why would we leave her?” she asked. Aria swallowed. “I know that in the past the royal family have not treated those they deemed below them well, but Arthur is not that kind of king, he is a better king.”

“Ya, that bar was really low…” Orm said to himself.

“Be that as it may, we have put in the evidence that she was not involved with the assassination, and that it was Hendrix looking alone. We should not only be able to clear her name but the rest of the Atlantis for All members that are currently in prison still waiting punishment. And you Aria, will also be cleared,” the queen explained. “There is one final piece we need. Y/N is going to talk to Hendrix and get him to confess.”

“Why would he even talk to her?” Aria asked.

“He will have to, she is going to be put to death and her last request will be to speak to Hendrix,” Atlanna explained. Orm’s eyes widened.

“What do you mean she’s going to be put to death?” he demanded, the dream coming back to him. Her body, cold, lifeless, him just standing by as she passed on.

“It is the only way to force Hendrix to speak with her. He must answer her last request. Her death sentence is not official, but he doesn’t know that. We are going to record him. She says she learned from Aria how to get him to say things he shouldn’t,” Atlanna explained further. Aria smiled, proud of her friend. She looked up, hearing AJ crying from his room. “I will be back, don’t worry my son, you will see her again.”

Aria watched her leave the room before looking at Orm. She was trying to figure him out. He wasn’t like she expected, how was this guy, a crying mess at the thought of a single woman being in danger, the same man who had killed hundreds just a few years ago without batting an eye?

“You can say it you know,” Orm whispered. “You can say it should be me, that I’m a coward and I should be going back to Atlantis, demanding her freedom in exchange for my head. I don’t deserve her; I don’t deserve to be free after what I did.”

“I have thought that many times since she was taken, but that’s not what I was thinking now,” she said. She moved to sit next to him, playing with her rings. “I was thinking that she saved my husband on the day of that tidal wave. She used her power, exposing herself to possibly any Atlantian that could have been around, someone who could have reported her, but she saved him because she knew I loved him. And now she’s in love with you, the person who caused all that pain. I was thinking, I should be watching you hurt with joy but I can’t.”

“Why?” he asked.

“Because she loves you, and she’s happy with you. You haven’t redeemed yourself for your crimes but you’re starting and that is important,” she said. “She will be back with you soon and you better spend the rest of your life showing her that you can be better than you were.”

“Don’t worry, I’m never going to be less than she deserves,” he said. Atlanna came rushing into the room.

“Hendrix is gone. Aria, go back to the house, see if he goes there, I’ll find him in the water,” she instructed. They were gone and Orm had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Hendrix arrived at Y/N’s cell, ready to grant her last request. He had no idea why she would ask for him, but he couldn’t refuse. He was ready, the letters and the video made him look bad and he had started planning his escape as soon as he left the king’s office. He was going to break Arthur by killing his family, before returning to the throne room with Orm’s body, proving the king was a liar and hid the tyrant. Then Hendrix would be king, and things would change.

Y/N was humming to herself when he arrived. Poseidon’s blood, he hated her obsession with music. She sounded terrible and she didn’t care. How could she not care?

“What did you want terrorist?” he asked, standing before her. She stood and looked at him.

“Is this what you wanted? The death of anyone who would actually stand up for the rights of the lower city?” she asked. He rolled his eyes.

“You are such an idiot, no one cares about you, this is about me. You are just a pawn in this game, a sacrifice to be made. Once you are dead I will find Aria now that I know she’s alive and…” he stopped talking. This wasn’t right. She looked smug, like she knew something he didn’t. She was trying to trap him. He stormed forward, hands padding over her clothes. She cried out in surprise, but he found what he was looking for, strapped to her back.

“What are you doing?” she asked as he ripped the recorder from her skin. She cried out in pain, and then again when he hit her with it. Her cheek started bleeding and he smirked.

“You think you are so clever, trying to trick me into saying something I shouldn’t” he taunted. “I am not an idiot Y/N.”

“You’re not as smart as you think Hendrix. Everyone can see what you’re doing. You are sloppy, you’ve always been sloppy. Mailing letters to people without checking who is receiving it? Not disguising your pulsar enough so I didn’t see it before you killed the king? Now even, you openly show your hatred for the king, rumors spread that you actually tried to poison Orm several times when he was ruling. You are an insignificant little person who thinks he deserves to be king…” she stopped when he hit her with he recorder again. She was knocked to the floor, staring up at his enraged face.

“I AM GOING TO BE KING!” he screamed. “My plan to kill Orm was perfect. I got you to tell me the parade route using sweet words, because you have always been craving someone to be a good daddy for you…and maybe I would have done that if you had let me kill that bastard. None of you knew because I was so good at hiding it! And poisoning Orm? Would have been simple if he wasn’t so paranoid of his stupid brother coming to usurp him. Then Arthur…what a joke. He thinks his family is safe in that lighthouse? Just wait until you’re dead, then I’ll kill them all and I WILL BE KING.” He stormed out the door and Y/N smiled as she called the guard.

Arthur took the holodisk and went to the council. The confession was enough to get the guard out to arrest Hendrix on not only one count of treason but several. Y/N was released and taken to Arthur’s office where a doctor cleaned up and bandaged her cuts.

“I can go home now,” she said. Arthur nodded. Guards came running into the office.

“He’s gone, Hendrix escaped,” one said. Arthur moved to get his armor on to search for him, sending word to the queen about the escape. Y/N paled. The lighthouse. Hendrix knew about the lighthouse. She took off herself, hoping she was in time to warn them.

#orm marius #king orm #ormmarius #orm marius x reader #king orm x reader #kingorm #ormmariusxreader #kingormxreader #ormseries3

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booksandwords · 8 months

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Ice Drag Queen Wedding by Tami Veldura

Series: Queenships, #1.5 Read time: 1 Day Rating: 4/5 Stars

The quote: Anyone from Tsui would claim they were daughters of the stars, severing their history with Earth in order to find enlightenment, but Artio’s people knew that a person was built by what came before them, and a history only gave them all strength. It didn’t hold anyone back. — Hendrix Kelly

Warnings: None of note.

Oh man, I have one thing to say... Hendrix's outfits are clothing p*rn and I can't even with it. I just went all grabby hands over it. Those outfits were the best things in this whole story.

Ice Drag Queen Wedding tells the story of Hendrix Kelly and Kane Carter. It's an arranged marriage, enemies to lovers plot using forced proximity well. The arranged marriage is I believe managed better than most plotlines like that I've read for a while. Hendrix consented and had a hand in the negotiation of his own marriage, Kane had the option to and just didn't. Hendrix is of the lower class (in theory at least) but has ended up with quite a generous marriage contract. Both of the had to agree to the marriage but someone was a bit busy otherwise. Both of them seem to come from matriarchal lines, I am totally here for that (*insert Welsh flag here*). The story is set around a competition, loyal crews and a holiday. I like it as a story setting. I'm not going to go into this much more for the plot and characters.

Just a couple of quotes I liked.

“He’s with his squad running simulations of us already,” she said, shaking her head. “He’s been simulating Shale for a week.” The games had only started four days ago. Hendrix laughed. “That’s because he knows we’re the only competition he has. Isobel looked over her nose at him. “More like he’s as obsessed with you as you are with him.” Hendrix put a hand to his chest in mock-outrage. “I’ll have you know that my social standing is far superior.” — Isobel is Hendrix's second in command. I really like her, the rest of their crew on Shale and Keane's crew on Basalt. This conversation shows how well the two crews and especially the captains and their seconds know each other. It's only later that Hendrix's true social standing is explained, he really isn't what he appears or presents himself as. (Isobel and Hendrix)

It was all for show. An elegant package wrapped around his body in order to please the eye and entertain. A present he didn’t need to unwrap to enjoy. There was no practical purpose for any of it and Hendrix’s sheer joy in curating every look always seemed to give Kane a stress-tic that made his eye twitch. — Omg the outfit Hendrix is wearing here had me almost want to worship at his feet. I'm sorry he really does look like a vengeful angel. But Hendrix knows exactly how to push Kane's buttons. It's the idea of a present to himself that strikes me. (Hendrix)

“Smart pilots fly in formation with each other, like this,” Kane moved Olivier’s hands so his ships flew side by side. “Or like this,” He added his own hand as third ship, making a triangle. “Everyone flies in the same direction so we always know we won’t run into each other.” — This is such a stunning moment to me. Olivier is seven and Kane's relative. It's a demonstration of learning and a change in priorities. I'm totally here for it. (Kane)

His eyelashes glittered with frost. His skin, dusted with silver glitter. His makeup subtle underneath, but a crown of white paint across his brow gave him the look of a queen. An ice queen, about to marry his husband. — The only way this could have been better was to change husband to something else royal. Though that would be Kane talking overly highly of himself. Also, it's a lovely sentiment and suits Hendrix to a t. (Kane)

Ice Drag Queen Wedding is set in Tami Veldura's Queenships universe, the only other book in the series to date is Perihelion published in 2015. It feels like a long time to go without writing in a series. That said while this verse seems to have very good and intelligent but dense lore that really would need to be in a novel to be properly explained and understood. Essentially it's too dense for a novella. I'm trying to figure out if the story is written with the expectation that you have read the prior book or not. It just throws information at the reader, a scifi lore that isn't unique but certainly isn't common and a bit of a web of characters.

The blurb of Ice Drag Queen Wedding is so misleading. "They're stranded on an icy moon with only one tent between them. They can't stand each other. And they're getting married in two days. [...] Hendrix and Kane's rivalry has always been heated, but stranded on the moon together, it just might ignite. There's only one bed and baby, it's getting cold outside!" (I've taken out the section on the squads which doesn't tell you much really.) That only one-bed section? One chapter halfway through the book. It's an explosive demonstration of bottled-up feelings starting from a desperate need to share body heat after someone does something spectacularly stupid. While I don't dislike what we get it isn't exactly what I expected and if I was picky about my tropes I might be more than a little disappointed.

I got this free during a single day amazon sale and I'm glad I didn't pay for it. It's not horrendous and it certainly had promise in the plot but it just doesn't manage to stick the landing. Oh, and there were some flaws in the editing. Spelling mistakes, incorrect names and maybe wrong words, just clumsy editing.

#ice drag queen wedding #tami veldura #queenships #ktreviews #book review #read 2022 #novella #booklr

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filmflowersbangtan · 3 years

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Dead of Night (preview)

pairing: gang member!jungkook x reader

genre: angst, fluff

warnings: swearing | drug mention | gangs | in the full story, there will be violence, blood, fighting, threatening

preview word count: 4k

you meet jungkook in a diner in the early morning where it’s just the two of you in the entire place. An interesting relationship ensues, and you find out he’s not who you thought he was. He’s a prominent member of the city’s most powerful gang, surrounded by danger and trouble. But you still want him.

author’s note: I sincerely apologize for being gone for so long and for not updating any of my fics. To everyone waiting on IMSWY pt. ii: I am so sorry for taking so long with it. It’s still in my WIPs, and I haven’t given up on it yet, but it is on the back burner right now since I have many other ideas bubbling up that I absolutely have to write or else they will probably internally set me aflame (lol).

I will be deleting many of my fics soon. I will be keeping “Unbound,” “I Must Still Want You,” “Heartbreaker with a Heart of Gold,” and “Lonely Planets.” Everything else I will be deleting because I have no desire to finish working on them or I simply do not like them anymore and can’t see them going anywhere.

I also will probably not be writing anymore series. Everything will most likely be one shot because every time I start a series, I get too overwhelmed with the idea of updating parts and finishing them that I just end up postponing them for too long and leaving too many people who have been looking forward to them disappointed. I do want to say that I have been going through So Much since I last posted Lonely Planets pt. ii and IMSWY, but I am in a so so so much better place now. That’s why I’m even writing this story now.

This will be a oneshot. It will not be a series. It will be very long. I am almost finished with it, but I am posting this preview just to see if you all would like to continue reading it.

Thank you all. I appreciate all the feedback and the follows and the reblogs so, so much. The feedback and the reblogs of Heartbreaker with a Heart of Gold is what really motivated me to write this one. I hope you all enjoy it. 😊

Being alone was like an addiction. It was fulfilling and appealing and…well, lonely.

Two in the morning diner stops during the weekdays had become routine. The place was completely empty save for a waitress and a cook and maybe a tired trucker. You tucked yourself in a booth in the back. The vinyl seats were cracked and uncomfortable, the lighting was stark and washed everything raw. But it was comforting. Sleep was evasive and your apartment was barely unpacked, boxes stacked haphazardly in the dining area and the mattress on the living room floor. It was your idea to move to this vast city far away from home. This city swallowed everything in its incessant noise. Nocturnal and teeming with cars and neon lights. It never rested and the two of you had that in common. You took solace in that.

The air was thick with bacon grease and bitter black coffee. Every morning you had waffles and orange juice. The refills were free and the waffles were the exact same circumference as the plate underneath it. Time was stagnant here. The city pressed against the plate glass windows, but the reflections from inside barred its entry. If you looked out, you simply stared directly at yourself. Maybe there was some kind of metaphor in that.

The night shift waitress, Bethany, set your plate of steaming waffles on the table as well as a glass syrup dispenser. She knew you by name and you thanked her for the food. She smiled sweetly and left you be.

The door chimed, denoting the entry of another patron. You didn’t look up. Bethany greeted the person in her cheerful customer service voice. You knew she didn’t actually sound like that. Once, you glimpsed her smoking a cigarette by the dumpster at the back of the diner arguing with her boyfriend on her cell phone. She had a tired voice. You wondered if she was lonely, too.

As you ate, Bethany took the patron’s order. From where you sat, his voice was a mumble. “You got it!” Bethany said before breezing away.

You glanced up from your food at the patron. Hair dyed blond, dark brown at the roots. He had a gentle face and a mouth made for smiling or furtively suppressing them. Tattoos were stippled on his arm all the way down to his knuckles. He was staring down at his phone, his fingers were slender and embellished with many silver rings. He was impossibly handsome. A paragon of beauty.

And he looked up. Right at you. Why was it at that moment you happened to notice him, he decided to notice you, too?

Your scalp prickled with hot embarrassment. You immediately averted your eyes back to your waffles. There was only a bite remaining. Good. You could finish, get your check, pay, and leave.

Boldly, you chanced another glimpse. He did, too. This time, a smile, broad and lovely, stretched across his face. It was endearing and intimate and you had never felt so seen. It was exhilarating. A small smile crept onto your mouth. You couldn’t help it. His smile was contagious.

This was how the following hour went. Weighted glances and secret smiles from across the room. He received his food, and he picked up his plate and mug of coffee and…was he coming this way?

You watched him, eyes wide, as he sauntered over to your booth and set his items on your table. “May I sit?” he said. His voice was the perfect match to his face. Smooth, sonorous, soft. Crushed velvet.

Jerkily, like you had never done it before, you nodded. He sat. “Hi,” he said.

“Hi,” you replied.

“I’m Jungkook.”

You told him your name. He repeated it once, twice, thrice. Like he enjoyed the feel of it in his mouth, rolling it around like a piece of hard candy he didn’t want to dissolve on his tongue just yet. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He reached his hand over the table. You smiled and shook it.

His plate was piled with pancakes and sausages and scrambled eggs. He dug in. In between bites, he asked, “So what brings you here at this time of night?” “I have trouble sleeping. And you?” Your chest was tight with the awkwardness of it all, but he appeared to be perfectly at ease.

“I’m just a night owl. Or I’m a vampire.” He shrugged nonchalantly as he continued eating.

Surprisingly, laughter bubbled from you until you couldn’t help the giggles that shook you. How long had it been since you had a conversation with anyone? Your store had been a drought for the past month, only a couple of people coming in a day. You didn’t call home because your parents would ask how you’ve been, and that topic lit a fire in your skull. Bethany was just a waitress doing her job. And Nora was always busy. It was refreshing to have someone sit with you. Talk with you. Want to be near you.

His eyes danced at the sound of your laughter. It was an innocuous expression, boyish in how pure it was.

You covered your mouth with your hands to mask the laughter. And he gently grabbed your wrist and removed them. “I like your laugh.”

Butterflies unfurled their wings in your stomach and fluttered in a frantic cluster. He resumed his meal as if nothing happened. “So what do you do?”

You cleared your throat. “I own a used book and record store downtown. It’s small and kind of hidden from the street, but it’s there.” You chuckled nervously. You were proud of that store, but you might have to close it down soon and return to your hometown with your tail tucked in between your legs if the revenue continued as it did.

His eyebrows shot up. “Wow. That’s super cool. I like records. Books, not so much. Where is it located?”

You told him the address. “By that bodega on the corner.”

“The one that sells the really good blue raspberry shaved ice?”

You snapped your fingers. “That’s the one.”

“I’ll definitely have to stop by.”

This was how the next few hours went. Talking about everything and nothing. He had lived in the city his entire life, worked as a freelance artist, had an apartment not too far away. Plates had been swept away by Bethany long ago. Refills poured, drained, and poured again.

And then, “Do you maybe want to get out of here? Kick it at my place?” Jungkook asked. His expression was open and genuine.

You didn’t know if that was a good idea. But talking to him was stimulating and you didn’t want it to end.

He noticed your hesitation. “Turn you location on your phone, I’ll even give you my address so you can send it to your friends. Anything to make you feel comfortable.”

He was right. He didn’t live that far. It was barely past five o’ clock in the morning, the city was still awake, billboards alight. The buildings towered, dark against the predawn blue of the sky. The apartment building was modest and typical of the city. Clean and affordable but just expensive enough to be appealing to a specific demographic of college students and those with decent enough jobs. His apartment was on the third floor and was charming with brick walls and high ceilings. There was a bookshelf packed with vinyl records, even more in milk crates. A record player in pristine condition sat on an end table beside an armchair.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” Jungkook said, shrugging off his jacket and hanging it on a hook beside the front door.

“You said you liked records,” you replied, browsing his collection.

“I did.”

“This isn’t liking records. This is a goddamn treasure trove.” You pushed your hair behind your ear, eager to move it from your face. “Bowie, Billie Holiday, Bob Dylan, Prince. You even have a rare version of Hendrix’s Electric Ladyland. With the naked women! This is incredible.”

He laughed. “I see you are a woman of taste.”

“If only my dad could see this. I’m afraid to touch anything.”

“I’m sure you don’t have clumsy hands with records. Since you have a record store and all.”

You laughed. “I appreciate the trust.”

“So what would you like to listen to?”

You mulled it over, taking your time examining the sleeves of the records. Then you found one.

He smiled when you showed him the cover art. “Perfect.”

Frank Ocean’s Blond. A modern classic. Perfect for the liminal hour of five AM.

Jungkook slipped it from its sleeve, fingers on the slim rounded edges of the record. He carefully settled it on the turntable, placed the needle on the disc, and played the album. There was the classic crackle of vinyl, and then the first track emanated. It was a phantasm of sound, rich and ethereal. Light but weighted. The song was the deep blue of the sky before the sun decided to pull itself above the horizon and emblazon the sky with its myriad of colors. It was the perfect song for this liquid moment that felt like a dream. This beautiful stranger standing before you with his incredible collection.

And then you were in Jungkook’s arms, slowly swaying to the music. You smiled up at him and him down at you.

The album continued on in the living room, serenading to no one. You and Jungkook had moved to the bedroom, lounging on the bed. The horizon blushed peach, casting the room in half-light. You both lay on your backs, him with an arm slung casually behind his head, you with your hands folded delicately on your stomach.

“Thank you for paying for my meal today,” you said to him meekly.

He smiled. “Thank you for the great conversation. And having an amazing taste in music.”

You laughed. “What made you come sit with me anyway?”

That was when he looked at you, his mouth still slung in a smile, but his eyes sincere. “Because you’re beautiful.”

Your cheeks went hot and you giggled nervously, covering it with your hands. He rolled over and carefully removed them, his eyes on yours. For a brief moment, time was still. Your breath caught in your throat. He was so close. His lips were so close. Your noses were just barely brushing. His voice was husky when he said, “I like your laugh.”

And then he kissed you.

In the living room, Frank Ocean sang about nights and new beginnings.

In the bedroom, you and Jungkook were breathless. Hands on thighs. Hands in hair. Teeth on collarbones. It was a innocent hunger, one that never got too peckish. He was careful with you, didn’t dare to remove your clothes. “I like you,” he breathed into your neck. You gasped at the sensation.

You kissed until you both eventually succumbed to sleep, the morning sun pouring drowsy golden light across the room.

It was well into the afternoon when you woke to the sound of a shower running. The room was unfamiliar. Definitely not your barren apartment with the boxes strewn about the place. And you definitely weren’t on your living room mattress tangled amongst its waves of sheets. The bed you were in was the most comfortable you’ve ever experienced. Brick walls, plants, beautiful abstract canvas paintings leaning against the wall. Then you remembered.

The diner. The vinyl collection. The sunrise. The kiss.

Jungkook.

He was in the shower and you were fully dressed and the night had to have been a dream. But it wasn’t. Reality settled back onto your shoulders in agonizing waves. You were hours late opening the store. But oh, you wanted to burrow into these soft, sweet-smelling sheets and dissolve into nothing. Eventually you got up.

The door to the bathroom was open. You thought about telling him you were leaving, but instead, you drew your name and number into the mirror steam and went home to shower and change yourself.

An entire week went by and he never called. He didn’t return to the diner, either. It hurt. Every time you lay on your side, willing yourself to sleep, the phantom feeling of his hands and lips barreled you at such an unwelcome rush you would gasp. None of it was real. You had to keep telling yourself that. None of it was real.

Life went back to normal. Jungkook was a fleeting daydream that sifted in and out of your thoughts. The store still barely got any customers, except for the same two or three crate diggers who visited like ghosts. And then Nora, your best friend, breezed through the door. She was a city girl through and through. Large sunglasses, the omnipresent iced coffee, the expensive wardrobe curated specifically for being in front of a camera. She was partly why you moved here. The two of you were from the same hometown, and she had escaped first to chase the tail of a fashion designer career.

“Move here!” she had said during a phone call. “You’ll love it. You’re super hipster and this city eats that shit up! And you can open up that record and book store you always dreamed of.”

She wasn’t wrong. You loved this city but this city seemed to not love you back. Now, she pushed her sunglasses up into her hair and set her iced coffee on the counter top before you. You were sitting behind the register, feet up and reading a book when she had come in. You looked up from the paperback in your hands. “And what have I done to deserve your presence, Your Highness?”

“Good morning, dork! We’re going to a party.”

You kicked your feet down. Slipped a bookmark in the book and closed it. And you simply said, “No.”

She blinked, her smile stiff. “Why not?”

“You know I have to open this place every single morning. I can’t go to a party and get drunk and miss another opening.”

“Stop making this store your entire life.”

“It is my entire life.”

“Well, live another one. Just for one night.” She clasped her hands together and actually pouted. “Please.”

You sighed. “You don’t have anyone else to go with?”

She perked up and tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Oh, I do. I just want you to go with me. I want you to have fun for once. All you’ve done since you been here was work.”

Every single dollar and penny from your savings went to this store. It was your lifelong dream. And Nora—lovely, naïve Nora—had never needed to work for anything a day in her life. She meant well. She was never intentionally ignorant. But that didn’t make it any less frustrating.

She also didn’t know of your time with Jungkook. It was embarrassing that he never called. It angered you that he called you beautiful and said he liked you only for it all to be false. Thank goodness you didn’t have sex with him.

“I’ll have fun once I’m a millionaire or something,” you said to Nora.

She huffed. “I can find you someone to cover the shop for the night. You won’t even have to pay them. Please just come with me.”

“No. What if they steal something.”

She stared at you flatly. “Do you really think any of my friends—my friends—would steal? Let alone steal any of this stuff? No offense.”

“Why do you want me to go so badly?”

“I already said. Fun. You know, music, drinks, guys.” She sang the last word and accompanied it with a little shimmy.

“I have plenty of music and I can buy my own drinks.”

She slammed her hand against the counter top, startling you. “Stop being fucking difficult and come have some fun with me.”

So, grudgingly, you went. Albeit late because you didn’t trust anyone else to close the shop for you, but you went nonetheless. Nora did your makeup. Just glitter eyeshadow and a little eyeliner because you insisted you didn’t want much. And she picked out your outfit—a black lace bra, a crop top cardigan, and a pair of white shorts.

“Because I can’t dress myself?” you grumbled, sliding on the clothes.

“Exactly that. You dress too…hipster-y. You need to be hot for tonight.”

You hadn’t worn that bra since you dated Namjoon. He was pretentious and arrogant and such a city boy it made you lightheaded. You met when he waltzed into the store shortly after you moved here. He smiled at you and you practically melted. The books were what he came for. He bought a Russian classic novel and at checkout, he discussed with you the allegory of sharing fruit in literature. He was eloquent and intelligent and so damn gorgeous you fell for him in that same moment. He scribbled his number on the receipt and told you to keep it.

The relationship lasted for four months. He suggested you move into his high rise apartment downtown with him. It was a modern edifice, all glass and steel and money. He was the wealthiest person you had ever met in your life. And, stupidly, you were in love.

And then you saw his text messages with some unfairly beautiful girl he followed on social media about how good she looked in his bed . He said he was lonely, that you worked too much, what else was he supposed to do? Needless to say, you left him. And you hadn’t seen him since.

Now, Nora said to you, “And don’t think about wearing those fucking platform boots.”

“Why not?” you said, frowning. “They’re cute.”

“They look ridiculous. Like those boots that one goth girl from that cartoon you like wore.”

You grinned, mischievous. “That’s exactly why I bought them.”

To Nora’s dismay, you wore the fucking platform boots.

The party was in an underground venue. It wasn’t all red wine and an elaborate excuse to brag about money, like the gatherings Namjoon liked, it was edgy. A live band played pop punk on a stage, the lights in the place were dim save for the spotlights and the white Christmas lights behind the bar. Greasy pizza and liquor and neon lights. You brushed elbows with someone smoking a joint, and you were pretty sure someone was doing coke in the bathroom.

Nora pulled you to the bar where she ordered herself a cocktail and you a craft beer. She knew you so well.

There were so many people here. You mentally kicked yourself for not bringing flyers for your store.

And then you saw him. Nora was talking your ear off about how hot the frontman for the band was and you almost choked on your beer.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you spat.

Nora blinked rapidly. “What? What happened?”

“This is why you brought me here. You cunt.” You didn’t mean to call her that. It wasn’t a word worn with frequent use in your vocabulary. In fact, you hated the word. But it was deserved in this situation.

Namjoon. He was standing near the stage with a craft beer of his own in his hand, bobbing his head to the music. He didn’t like places like this. They were tacky to him. He didn’t even listen to this genre of music. What the hell was he doing here?

The girl standing next to him turned to him and smiled. She was wearing lipstick as red as murder and her bob was so black it reflected the lights with an envious luster. She had a septum piercing, the two silver balls glittering in the low light like two tiny stars. That’s when it clicked. He was here because of her. She was that unfairly beautiful girl in his text messages. Your skin felt incandescent.

“He had to see how hot you are. I thought you would enjoy shoving that in his face.” Lovely, naïve Nora. You wanted to slap her.

You stood from the bar stool and set your craft beer on the bar. “I’m leaving now.”

Her face was slack with regret. Before she could form an apology, you turned and walked away.

You were a few moments from the door when you heard your name. It wasn’t Nora. You stopped and your breath hitched. Your turned slowly, preparing to see Namjoon with that girl by his side but instead—

“Jungkook?”

His hair was black now and almost as shiny as that girl’s bob. It hung past his ears in gentle waves. He stood there in a baggy black shirt and jeans, his thumbs tucked into the front pockets. Silver bracelets draped from both wrists. In this lighting, he looked ethereal. Infernal. This couldn’t be the same man you shared a chimerical morning with. He looked like he had been created by the darkness of the city’s nights.

Maybe it was just the hair.

“Hi,” he said in the same way he did when he sat your table at the diner. It could’ve been mistaken as sheepishness, but his eyes were not meek. Besides the hair, you couldn’t figure out what was so different about him.

Breathlessly, you said, “Hi.”

“You look nice.”

Over his shoulder, you noticed Namjoon go to the bar. Nora scowled at him. He smiled amicably at her and his mouth moved, saying something. She froze, and her eyes immediately darted to you. Namjoon turned and saw you. And he started your way.

“Are you okay?” Jungkook asked.

You should’ve ran out of the venue. There were a million other things you should’ve done, but instead you grabbed Jungkook and kissed him.

Initially, he went rigid with shock, but he melted into the kiss. You felt him smile against your mouth. “Miss me that much?”

You pulled away. “I did not.” A glance over his shoulder and Namjoon was gone. You audibly exhaled.

“What happened?”

You ran a hand over your face. “Ex.”

“Ah,” he said. “Is that why you were leaving?”

“Yes. And now I’m going. Goodbye.” You whirled around, shoulders tense with embarrassment and headed for the stairs.

“Wait.” He caught up to you on the stairs. “Can I go with?” There were small white string lights strung in the stairwell and the glow reflected in his eyes. They were so brown.

“Don’t you have friends to be with?” Your phone buzzed in your back pocket with an incoming text message. Most likely your own friend dying to know who the guy you just kissed was. You ignored it.

“They’ll be fine.” He grinned.

“Okay,” you said, feeling yourself smile as well.

There was no destination, but you ended up at a park, sitting beside each other on a swing set. Your feet dragged in the wood chips as you pushed yourself back and forth slowly. He looked up at the night sky and sighed. “Do you want to know why I hadn’t called?”

You just looked at him.

“This may sound like a corny excuse, but… I was afraid of what you would think of me.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

He hesitated before saying, “If we continued seeing each other, you would eventually find out that I’m not a freelance artist. I do paint, but that’s not what I do.”

You could feel your heartbeat gradually speeding its pace. “What do you do?” His eyes fell down to his hands. He turned them over, studying the lines in his palms. His hair slipped over his eyes. He was a portrait of affliction. “I’m a Lost Boy.”

You didn’t understand. He noticed your silence and looked up at you. “The Lost Boys. This city is practically run by them.” He corrected himself, “Ran by us.” He stopped, closed his eyes, and sighed. “I’m in a gang.”

Your voice was a whisper. “What?”

He quickly added, “If you no longer want to associate with me, I understand. They’re—we’re—dangerous. I mean, even if you haven’t heard of us, you know us. The leather jackets, the vandalism, the fights. That venue is owned by us. The drugs at that event were supplied by us. That band playing is in our pockets. My apartment is paid by dirty money.” He laughed quietly to himself then, almost pityingly.

The night air around you was thick with your own dread. “Is being around you dangerous?” You hadn’t meant for your voice to sound so small.

“I won’t hurt you, if that’s what you’re asking.” You could hear the unsaid “but” in his tone.

“But what?” you prompted.

He chewed on his lip. A dimple in his left cheek appeared. “I won’t hurt you, but I can’t promise your safety. If you do decide to be around me.”

#bts #jeon jungkook #jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook fanfic #kpop #bts fanfic #kpop fanfic #bts jeon jungkook

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yikeslads · 4 years

Text

A Relaxing Evening - Yandere Sero Hanta x Reader

Trigger Warnings! - 18+ only. Non Con (sex and non con drug use). If this bothers you p l e a s e do not read this fic! You are responsible for your own consumption and this is your official warning. Also they smoke a lot of weed in this but I don’t think that really needs a warning but idk

Author’s Note: Hey guys! Long time no see (please don’t kill me, I’ve been hella busy). I’ve started my last year at university so I am super thrilled about that, just turned 21, and I have spent my entire summer working full time. But enough about me, I’m sure everyone is dealing with a ton with the pandemic plus whatever they have. Anyways, I will be doing my best to update more! I have a WIP that should be released soon (i only have like 400 words left) so that should be fun.

Big big big big thanks to @yanderart ! If you don’t know recognize the name, she is a phenomenal artist (both in visual and literary works, an icon) who shares the yandere/dark love. Thank you SO much for your super helpful edits/comments/encouragement with this <3

Also thanks to @opheliadawnwalker3 for the advice to start small when getting back into the writing game! I took that to heart and tried to keep it shorter this time and helped me get this out so thank you!

And thanks to @rat-suki @weebsinstash @drxwsyni because I have definitely binged all of y’alls content and used the immaculate yandere vibes you write as inspo so thank you <3

Now let’s get started!

It was eerily silent in the hallway as your feet made their way to their destination through the mostly abandoned college dormitory. Your mind was so preoccupied with the many thoughts that demanded your attention that you weren’t paying attention to where you were going. Not that it mattered. You had made this walk so many times, you could find your way even if you were blindfolded and hammered, that you were allowed to fully slip into your thoughts without having to worry. Before long you were standing in front of a very familiar door, the only one in the hallway with light peaking through the crack at the bottom. Music could clearly be heard through it, Jimi Hendrix’s singing the only sound of human life that you had encountered during your entire walk over here.

It took you a moment to snap out of your thoughts and come back to reality and notice that you were already standing at your destination. Clearing your throat awkwardly at the realization, you raised your arm and knocked solidly on the door to be heard above the music and waited as patiently as you could for an answer.

From behind the door you could hear someone swear, causing a small smirk to rise on your face, along with the sound of some rustling. A few moments later the door cracked open a bit as the familiar raven haired male peaked into the hallway, a bright smile pulling at his lips as he regarded you.

“Well this is a pleasant surprise!” Sero chirped, opening the door all the way, seeing that it was only you standing in the hallway. “What can I do for ya, sunshine?”

His cheery, warm response to your presence unknowingly brought a small smile to your face, a needed break from your tense, concentrated expression you had been wearing when Sero first opened the door.

“Sorry to bother you, Sero,” you began, stuffing your hands into the pockets of the jacket you were wearing to stop you from wringing them anxiously. “I’ve just been really stressed with final exams and choosing which agency I want to officially sign for and… it’s just been a lot.” As you explained, Sero’s face softened slightly as he listened intently to your words, not liking the fact that you were so stressed.

“Anyway,” you continued with a chuckle, bringing yourself back onto the subject, “I was wondering if you had any of your stash left that I could buy from you? I know I bought from you a little while ago, but I’ve been more stressed out than I can handle,” you admitted, hoping that Sero might still have some weed hidden away in his room somewhere that you could use.

It was a little into sophomore year of college that you found out that your classmate, Sero, was a bit of a stoner. And as someone going through the hero course, you are understandably dealing with a lot of stress. So what’s wrong with smoking a little Mary J every once in a while to relax, right? Or at least that’s what you told yourself when you first asked Sero if you could buy weed from him. Ever since then he had been your personal plug, but over time, you two became close friends. “I think you might be in luck, sunshine, I think I have some on reserves. Come on in,” he welcomed, and you crossed the threshold without a second thought. As you stepped inside and took off your shoes, a large but gentle arm carefully looped around your shoulders, gently pulling you into the tall man’s side as you led you to the couch and sat you down on the soft fabric in front of his laptop that was open and had various work assignments in different windows.

“Tell ole Sero what’s troubling you,” Sero propositioned as he moved to his desk, opening a drawer and grabbing his needed paraphernalia as he waited for you to begin speaking. He settled down next to you on the couch, pulling the small table holding the laptop in front of you a little closer as he set down his bong, and pulled out his grinder and began the process of loading you a bowl.

You were about to begin venting, but you paused as you took in the sight of Sero wordlessly working for your benefit, and you pulled your wallet out of your jacket pocket after a few seconds. “Sorry, before I forget, how much do I owe you?” You asked, opening your wallet and beginning to pull out a few bills. You didn’t get far though, as a warm hand covered yours, drawing your eyes to meet his black ones. He gave you a boyish smile and shook his head at you, giving a small laugh. “No way, sunshine. You need a little break, this one is on me,” he offered with a grin. You were hesitant for a few moments, not seemingly convinced that you should let him give you part of his stash for free. The potential feeling of guilt ebbed away as Sero’s warm smile never faltered, kindness seemingly exuding from his every pore. What was the harm, right? Nodding, you gingerly took the loaded bong from his large, calloused hands into your own smaller ones.

“Alright,” you agreed thoughtfully as you mirrored his smile, “but I want you to smoke with me. It’s no fun getting high alone,” you countered to which you could almost see Sero’s eyes sparkle in response at your words.

“I would be happy to,” he assured, never one to miss out on the chance to smoke, especially with you, but you added one more condition.

“And,” you drawled, his eyes never leaving your face as he waited patiently for you to continue. “Whatever food we order when we are stoned off our asses is on me.”

A soft chuckle resonated from Sero’s chest as he nodded along to your stipulation, finding no qualm with having the promise of food.

“Deal,” he agreed, and with that you went to take your first bong hit of the evening.

~~~~~~~~~~

Your sides ached as you tried to force yourself to stop laughing, but your efforts seemed trivial as Sero laughed just as hard, if not harder, alongside you as you finished Sero’s favorite flick, Scott Pilgrim vs the World. It felt so good to let go and really laugh, it had started to feel like it had been too long. Time seemed a distant concept to you at the moment, as nothing from the outside world weighed on you as you merrily enjoyed your high with Sero.

Your eyes were pink from smoking, little tears forming at the base of your lower eyelashes as you gasped for breath as your laughing fit began to subside. You don’t even remember what you had been laughing about exactly, but you couldn’t really bring yourself to care. Your attention was brought back to Sero as he began to rise from his spot beside you on the couch, your eyes following his lazy movements as the movie credits began to roll.

“I’m getting a bit of cottonmouth,so why don’t I get us some drinks while you choose something else for us to watch?” Sero offered to which you agreed, lazily beginning to scroll through the other titles that were currently available on Netflix as Sero made his way over to the little kitchen he had equipped.

“Thirsty for anything in particular?” You heard his voice call out to you, but you didn’t take your eyes off the laptop screen, still searching for another flick to watch.

“Just water would be fantastic,” was your response as you searched through the comedy section, knowing that Sero preferred comedies.

A few moments later, Sero had returned to your side, a glass of water in one hand for you and a soda can for him in his other hand. Thanking him as you gently took it from his hands, you took the glass and raised it to your lips. Taking large sips, reveling in the cool feeling of the water flowing over your tongue and to the back of your throat, you failed to notice a pair of eyes watch your every movement adoringly.

“Wanna take another hit?” Sero asked as you finished taking a drink, setting down the mostly empty glass back down on the table.

You hummed in thought at his question, before nodding, a small giggle escaping your lips, “What’s one more hit, right?”

Sero, the practiced stoner he is, had another bowl set up for you ready to go in what seemed like seconds, graciously handing you the now loaded bowl. Gently taking it from his hands and placing it in the bong, you fired up the lighter and took a huge hit.

A h u g e hit. It was a little larger than you had meant, but being high had made your judgement a little empaired. You coughed a bit as you expelled the wave of smoke from your lungs, waving your hands as Sero laughed.

Your cheeks flushed slightly with embarrassment at Sero laughing as you tried to regain your composure. “S-Stop laughing!” You cried, setting the bong back down, but Sero just shook his head.

“I can’t help it, sunshine. Seeing you not being able to take that hit is hilarious,” he continued to laugh, as your cheeks burned warmer at his words.

“Its not my fault that I don’t have your iron lungs,” you mocked, picking up your glass once more and finishing the contents in an attempt stop your coughing fit. “Not all of us are stoners.”

A small gasp tore from Sero’s throat, as he held a hand to his chest, pretending to be surprised by your words. “Me? A stoner? How could you even say such a thing?” He asked, shooting you a kicked puppy look which just made you giggle in return, your head feeling a little fuzzy from the extra hit.

“Oh don’t be a baby,” patting the spot next to you, you flashed Sero a loopy smile, “come on, lets watch another movie,” you countered to which Sero agreed to, settling back down in his spot beside you. You reached forward, setting your now empty glass next to the laptop and hit play on the movie, before moving back into the cushions. Your body began to feel heavier as you gingerly leaned into Sero’s side, who in return wrapped his arm around your shoulders and gently tugged you a little closer to his chest as the intro finished and the movie began.

You weren’t long into the movie before you were struggling to keep your eyes opened. You shifted slightly, trying to force yourself to wake up, but the more that the time wore on, the harder it became to stay awake.

It wasn’t more than twenty minutes into the film before you were out cold, your deep and even breathing soft in Sero’s ear as your tired figure slept against his shoulder.

“Sunshine,” Sero whispered, tentatively placing a hand on your knee and gently shaking you. He watched your face carefully for any sign of rousing, but your breathing continued at its deep, even, undisturbed pace. An eager smile danced across Sero’s visage at your lack of response, his heart pounding in his chest in excitement. Wrapping his strong arms around your pliable person, Sero gently maneuvered your sleepy shape to be laying on your back, tummy up, the skirt you had worn riding up on your thighs as your leg lay limply, slightly apart.

Sero took a moment just watching you, drinking in all of your beauty. You looked so sweet and vulnerable asleep on Sero’s couch defenseless. He gazed at your unconscious body oh so lovingly as you lay completely helpless to the danger that lurks around you. It makes Sero’s heart squeeze in his chest in realization that you need him. You needed him to protect you and Sero would happily be your knight in shining armour.

“Her knight in shining honor”, Sero thought to himself merrily, infatuated with protecting his little ray of sunshine. His fingers began to skim the skin of your thighs, slowly pushing your skirt up higher and higher. Shouldn’t your knight get a little reward for his services? Sero certainly thought so, afterall it was only fair that he get to enjoy his sunshine in return for all he does for you.

Sero’s breath caught in his throat at the sight of your black laced panties, skirt bunched up past your hips, leaving your panty clad intimate parts exposed for his greedy eyes. There were no such things as imperfection to Sero when it came to you. All of your little bumps, blemishes, and things you didn’t like about yourself were all things that Sero adored about you. It's what made you you, and he simply ached to worship you.

Hungry hands hooked fingers into your panties, swiftly pulling the soft material down your supple skin in earnest. A groan tore from Sero’s throat at the sight of sticky, clear strings sticking from the fabric to your little treasure.

Fuck was he glad he slipped you an aprodiasic alongside the sleeping pills. Seeing your hole already wet and begging for his attention had his pants quickly tenting uncomfortably. He could not wait to get started.

Moving quickly and silently, he settled himself on his stomach between your thighs, carefully placing your thighs over his shoulders. His starved stare meets your slick slit and he couldn’t stop himself from licking a stripe up your lips, moaning at the delicious taste of your essence. His eyes flickered back to your face where he found you still sound asleep, unaware of reality.

“Perfect”, he thought to himself at your unconscious state, “just like last time.”

Confident in his security, Sero began to feast on your unprotected pussy, his tongue swiping through your folds as he drank every ounce of you in. His eyes almost rolled into the back of his head at your taste as if he was tasting the most divine thing ever created. He couldn’t seem to get enough as his hands encased your thighs, hungrily pulling your closer to his famished mouth. Your breath quickened in pace at Sero’s ministrations but the sleeping pills kept you nestled peacefully in between complete unconsciousness and your dreams, deep asleep. It seemed almost as if Sero had been eating you out for hours when he had finally come up for air, sucking in deep gulps of air into his lungs greedily. He knelt in front of your vulnerable body, lips and chin shiny with your slick as he slipped a finger into your heat, quickly followed by another as he gently began to scissor your walls apart. Your warmth gushed around his fingers as he worked you open for him, using his free hand to slip down to his belt and make quick work of that before tugging his boxers and pants down. His cock now free of confinement slapped against his abs before he gently removed his fingers from your heat. Your juices completely soaked his hand as he brought it to his cock, using your wetness to get him slick for you. He watched your sleepy face as he stroked himself, his bottom lip caught between his lip as he intently drank in your features. With both of your bodies prepped, patience grew thin, so he tilted his hips down, nudging your dripping entrance with his plush tip, your legs lazily spread and looped loosely around his hips.

Slipping himself between your folds, Sero took a deep breath before pressing himself into your warm, wet, tight cavern. He didn’t stop slowly driving his cock into your twitching heat until he became fully sheathed inside your awaiting pussy. He groaned softly at the feeling of his cock being encased by your velvet walls, his eyes never leaving your face as he adjusted to the delicious feeling you were giving him. After a few moments of adjustment, Sero pulled his hips back, feeling his manhood drag against your plush walls, a soft moan escaping your sleeping shape as you stirred slightly in your hazy state. Once you settled and he was positive you were going to stay asleep, he drove his hips forward into your cunt his eyes moving away from your face and down to where his cock was buried deep inside of you. The erotic sight of you being fucked by his cock kicked him into gear as he soon found a steady rhythm as he pounded into you.

With every thrust of his hip, your cream coated his silken rod, making Sero almost feral with the sight. It took every ounce of self control he had to not fuck you the way you deserved, the way you needed him, but he couldn’t risk having you wake up during your little relaxation session. It took every ounce of self control that he possessed to keep himself from fucking you silly, but with plans for the pair of you in the future, he was willing to wait to rock your world for when you were awake and in more of a … receptive position to receive the full force of his love for you.

It wasn’t long before Sero found himself reaching his end, much to his displeasure, but he knew it wouldn’t be long until he was able to get to do this again. He always made excuses to get the two of you alone, for “purely innocent reasons” according to your knowledge. He couldn’t help it! He loved you too much, and he needed to get his fix.

“F-Fuck,” he moaned as he fucked himself into your pussy, panting softly as he drew close to his completion. “You feel so good, sunshine. You were made for my fucking cock, shit,” he swore, his thrusts becoming increasinly sloppy. He pulled himself out before he came, hips hovering over yours as his hand frantically worked his length trying to finish himself off.

“Fuck yes!” Sero growled as he came, hot white, sticky ropes of cum decorating your glistening pussy as he furiously worked his hand over his cock. “God, love you so much,” he groaned as he finished, hovering over you as he caught his breath. His eyes watched as his cum dripped down your pussy, becoming entangled with your own juices. Without skipping a beat, Sero reached over and grabbed his phone, taking a quick snapshot of your fucked out pussy covered in his essence and saved it in a secret gallery of pictures he kept of you. He needed to add to the collection, something to help tide him over until the next time. Setting his phone back down, he leaned over you and gently kissed you, like a lover would, savoring your lips while you were still asleep. Breaking the kiss, he gazed lovingly down at you, gently playing with a strand of your hair. He wished this moment would never end, but he knew that he had to get going, sighing softly to himself.

It was time to start up the cleaning process.

~~~~~~~~~~

A phone ringing caused you to stir from your deep slumber, a deep yawn escaping your lips as you stretched your stiff body from sleeping on the couch. You rubbed your eyes slightly as you woke up, before you took in the room before you. You saw Sero back turned to you as he spoke in hushed tones over the phone, hearing Bakugo’s voice grunting something to him over the phone about working out later that day. You glanced around the room as you yawned again, slightly confused as to how you got here before remembering coming over to Sero’s place the previous night after being really stressed and wanting to take a break. It wasn’t long until Sero finished his phone call, turning back to your and finding you awake, looking back at him.

“Sorry,” Sero began, rubbing the back of his neck, “I didn’t mean to wake you,” he apologized sheepishly with a small smile, taking in your figure.

“It’s no worries,” you hum out sleepily finding yourself naturally returning his smile. “Did I pass out last night?” You asked, not fully remembering what had happened after that last bong hit.

“Yeah! You fell asleep about maybe half way through the first movie? I don’t remember exactly when, I was paying too much attention to the movie,” he lied smoothly, your face showing telltale signs of embarrassment at having fallen asleep during the movie. Especially in Sero’s room after having come to his room for a favor. How could you ask to hang out with someone then fall asleep on them!”

“Oh… Sorry about that, I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you like that,” you laughed a little uneasy, but Sero was quick to reassure you. “Don’t worry about it! You said yourself that you were stressed out of your mind, and it seemed that you needed to give yourself some rest. No need to apologize,” Sero soothed you easily, a smile returning to your face as you nodded. He almost felt bad lying to your face, but this was just more proof that you needed him! He had placed all your clothes back on properly, cleaned up the mess last night and you were none the wiser! Your lack of realization of what had happened, though it pleased Sero to know he got away with his little love session, cemented your need for him in Sero’s mind.

“Well will you let me buy you coffee as a thanks for letting me crash? We can study together at that cafe near the gym if you want? ” You offered, wanting to express your gratitude to your friend, who graciously accepted your idea, pleased to spend more time with you.

“Now that sounds like a good idea,” he chirped, quick to pack up his things in his backpack and get ready to go.

The sun was rising slowly from the horizon, fluffy white clouds moving lazily across the sky, as the two of you walked to the cafe together. The birds sang so sweetly as the pair of you made your way, but their songs meant nothing to Sero, too entranced with your own sweet voice as you chattered happily with him about whatever came to mind.

Opening the door for you once the pair of you arrived, you flashed him a sweet smile in response before stepping inside the warm coffee shop. The smile you gave, to him, was brighter than the sun, warmer than the core of the Earth, and he realized he needed it. Just like you need his protection, he needs you, his sunshine, to bring warmth into his life and make him whole. With your back to him, browsing the menu of its many drink options, you failed to notice the pair of eyes drinking in every inch of your form with intense infatuation. You had no idea the danger that lurked behind those kind eyes, and unfortunately for you, you didn’t notice that Sero’s friendliness was more until too late.

#sero hanta #sero hanta x reader #yandere sero hanta #yandere sero x reader #yandere sero #tw: noncon #tw: somnophilia #yandere #yandere x reader #bhna #yandere bhna #yandere bhna x reader #weed smoking #reader insert #mha #yandere mha #smut #yandere smut

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superman86to99 · 3 years

Photo

Superman #84 (December 1993)

Superman takes a short Paris vacation! Like, one day short. What's the worst that could happen?

Oh, man.

So, for the past few issues, we've been hearing about children being abducted in Metropolis. Now we see that they're being kept inside a giant toy house by some creepy bald man in Quasimodo clothes who seems to be obsessed with toys -- a "Man of Toys," if you will. Side note: no wonder the children haven't been found... all the articles about them are just gibberish! (See clip below.)

The kidnapper thinks that these kids' parents don't deserve them, and that they're much better off here, in an underground hideout with a man who threatens to starve them if they don't play with him. (And I do mean literally play, with action figures and stuff.) Meanwhile, as these children cry for help, Superman is having the time of his life. While helping move a stranded ship with some huge-ass chains, Superman spots a sunken galleon with a treasure chest inside and fantasizes about keeping the booty...

...before turning it over to the authorities anyway, the big boy scout. Then, he wakes up Lois at 6 AM and tells her they should go to Paris right now, which usually means your significant other is having a mental breakdown, but in this case they can actually do it. And so, after deciding that he deserves to use his powers for fun every once in a while, Superman and Lois drop everything and fly to France with super-speed for the rest of the day/issue.

Anyway: back to the child abduction! Cat Grant and her son Adam attend a Halloween party at Adam's school, but there's a disturbed weirdo in a hideous costume lurking among the crowd. Yes, I'm talking about Jimmy Olsen in his Turtle Boy suit.

Shortly after that, a guy in a dinosaur costume (see, all the creeps are dressed as reptiles) lures Adam out of the party with the promise of "superb video games." What child could resist that? Of course, that turns out to be the kidnapper and Adam ends up in his hideout along with the rest of the missing children and, worst of all, not a single "Lextendo" console.

The kidnapper gets angry at Adam when he refers to the toys at the hideout as "old-fashioned junk" (he was REALLY looking forward to those video games), and even angrier when Adam tries to free the other kids. Adam is brave and puts up a good fight, but...

And those were Adam Morgan's final words. "Uh-oh."

Next, we have a pretty harrowing scene of Detective Turpin letting Cat know Adam’s body was found, and Jimmy and Perry White taking her to the morgue to identify the body (most people probably wouldn't bring their former boss to something like that, but Perry sadly knows more than most about losing a kid). As for Lois and Clark, they were gone so long that the Daily Planet had time to print a headline about the murders. The issue ends when the lovebirds walk into the office smiling like two people who just spent the night fooling around in Paris... only to feel like jackasses when they find out what happened.

To be continued!

Character-Watch:

And that's it for little Adam Morgan who, unlike the also tragically diseased Jerry White, didn't even get any post-death appearances. Adam went from a little kid scared of Superman, to a huge brat, to a character who was approaching likeability as of last week. That's why I hate it when DC kills off young characters like Adam or Liam Harper: in long-form storytelling, children represent potential. Look at how much Wally West or Dick Grayson evolved over the years compared to their mentors! Sure, there's a huge probability that Adam would have ended up disappearing from comics for 25 years anyway, but who knows, maybe we'd now know him as Teen Gangbuster or something. GangbusTEEN.

This issue also represents a turning point for the kidnapper, who is never named or seen clearly in the story itself but I don't think I'm shocking anyone by spoiling the fact that he's Toyman (it's in the cover, for one thing). In his last two appearances before this storyline, Toyman helped Superman save some kids from Sleez and looked genuinely sad to learn about Superman's death, so this is a pretty dramatic change for the character. We'll find out why he went from big softy to child killer in Superman #85 (but don't get your hopes up).

Plotline-Watch:

The most disturbing part of the issue, all things considered, is still the part where Toyman climbs into a giant crib and hugs a huge stuffed bunny. Look at serial killer Tommy Pickles here:

Don Sparrow says: “Even with the upgrade, Toyman is still just a man in a suit, a common complaint about Superman’s rogues gallery.” Funny you should say that, because I JUST shared an old Wizard interview in our Twitter in which Dan Jurgens talks about how Doomsday came out of his frustration with the fact that most Superman villains are dudes in suits (plus other interesting tidbits from the era, like how it was actually Roger Stern’s idea to bring back Hank Henshaw, so check out that link!).

Don again: “The entire Superman storyline of this issue feels like filler. Diving for buried treasure and soaring off to Paris -- it all feels like wasted time next to the Adam storyline.” I have a theory that the entire ship sequence is there as an excuse to put Superman in those big chains and make that Spawn joke (which I didn’t get until now, since I’ve always read this issue in Spanish).

Superman says that pulling that big ship was "a little easier than expected" -- that's either another hint that there's something going on with Superman's powers since he came back, or a subtle dig at the state of American ship manufacturing.

Another adorable "window tap" scene for the books, and this is the sexiest one so far. Is it me or has Jurgens started copying more than just Teri Hatcher's hairdo from Lois & Clark? (For anyone who thinks Lois has gotten implants, I refer you to this clip.)

While in Paris, Lois asks Clark if he's ever wondered what would happen if his rocket had landed in other countries. Don: “Clark’s conversation with Lois sounds like a bunch of concepts for Elseworlds stories. We eventually would see a Russian Superman, and a British Superman, but not yet the French Superman. (Hire us, DC!)” Yep, got my French Superman pitch ready, Jim Lee. Or just let us do Russian Superman again, since Red Son wasn’t even the first time you published that idea.

Don once more: “Another thing that makes no sense about the ‘new’ Toyman is his resentment of technological toys—when in previous appearances he himself had deadly high-tech toys to vex Superman over the years.” I especially resent his hatred of video game consoles. Incidentally, I wonder what types of games are available for Adam’s beloved Lextendo. Star Lex 64? Mega Man Lex? Sonic the Hedgehog 3 & Knuckles & Lex?

No one is more upset at Lois and Clark for going AWOL than Whit. NO ONE. He's so furious that his usually grey mustache turned black.

Patreon-Watch:

As always, shout out to our patrons, Aaron, Murray Qualie, Chris “Ace” Hendrix, britneyspearsatemyshorts, Patrick D. Ryall, Samuel Doran, Bheki Latha, Mark Syp, Ryan Bush and Raphael Fischer! Last month’s exclusive Patreon article was about the recently unearthed sequel to Superman 64 for the PlayStation, featuring Metallo, Parasite, and Lois looking even hotter than in this issue:

Hot damn. Find out more at https://www.patreon.com/superman86to99!

And believe it or not, Don Sparrow has even more to say about this issue. Read his section after the jump:

Art-Watch (by @donsparrow):

I should start off my section with a big caveat: I flat out hate this issue. There were several weird decisions made in the post-Death-and-Return era (most of them along the same lines of making the Superman titles more grim-and-gritty), and this story was one of the worst of them. My theory is that, despite the praise and record-breaking sales of the Death and Return storyline, the Superman creative team felt pressure to have more extreme storylines, perhaps in response to the wildly successful Image books coming out at the time. Between this story, and the upcoming “Spilled Blood” storyline, the Super books take a hard—but temporary--turn into more violent and upsetting storytelling—even though these stories are by the same writers as the previous few years. While death has always been a part of comics, and Superman comics was no exception, there is a jarring glibness and unfeeling toward the way violence is handled in these pages that is quite different from the stories that preceded it. It’s made all the more jarring by the fact that well-established personalities suddenly veer wildly out of character, Toyman chief among them.

We start with the cover, and while it is technically well-drawn (by the familiar team of Jurgens and Breeding) it’s also a very upsetting visual. I think they should have gone with the pieta type pose with Adam and Superman, OR the scary badass bowie-knife Toyman (who apparently has a Cheshire cat smile now) but not both. But the cover is a good hint at the tonal dissonance of the comic within.

We open with a splash of the now-extreme 90s looking Toyman, with his serial killer shaved head and spooky cloak, ignoring the pleas of hungry kids he has locked up in a tiny jail cell for days at a time (if that sentence doesn’t ring alarm bells for how wrong this is for a Superman story, I don’t know what will). For much of the issue Toyman’s eyes are obscured by glare on his lenses, further de-humanizing a character who was once one of Superman’s more empathetic bad guys.

We cut to Superman tugboating a huge tanker with giant chains and it’s a cool visual (one repeated in the Batman V Superman film). It feels especially out of place to focus on, given how upsetting this issue is otherwise, but throughout the whole comic, Lois is drawn smoking hot, especially on the two page spread on pages 9-10.

The scenes depicting the actual murder, while still wildly out of place in a Superman comic, are well done, and give a real sense of darkness and menace, which I suppose is the intent. Perhaps my least favourite visual is the Big Bird stuffie, silently bearing witness to what’s about to occur.

The edges of the panels on get more slashy and off-kilter (to me, looking very much like the layouts more typically seen in Image comics of the day) and I suppose I appreciate the restraint of how little Dan Jurgens shows of the death of a child, showing only a bloody slash on a black background. This is still a pretty baroque image for a Superman comic, but certainly less violent than it could be, given what is happening.

Cat Grant’s silent horror is well staged, and powerful in its way. Lastly, Clark Kent bending in sorrow and regret is a powerful image.

While this issue is handled marginally better, and more maturely than other comics on the shelf at this time, I still believe it is one of the biggest mistakes of the era. Giving a long-established character an unceremonious death for shock value is gross on its own, but making it a child definitely crosses a line for me. Making it worse is that, while the Toyman is a criminal and a killer, he has shown in past issues (a similar kidnapping storyline involving Sleez) that he genuinely cares for the well-being of children. So for a long-time reader, this also felt like a betrayal of a long-established, fully developed character. Adding to the ugliness of this is that Adam dies heroically, trying to free the children who have been caged, unfed, for days, but even in that regard, he fails. The headline at the end of the issue confirms all the children are dead. Adam’s death did not buy the other kids enough time to get away. It was all for nothing. Had Adam died, but the other children lived, maybe this issue wouldn’t leave quite as bad a taste. [Max: It’s weird because it’s all told in a way where it’s told in a way where it would make sense, narratively and within the story universe, that the other kids survived, but then it’s almost casually revealed that nope, they died too. A scene of one of the kids relaying Adam’s heroism to Cat in a future issue would have gone a long way.]

Superman doesn’t come off well in these pages, either. It’s honestly the type of story they should just stay away from, because the more you think about all the calamity that is going on around the clock, the less defensible the whole Clark Kent persona becomes. Superman carving out time to romance his fiancée directly led to the preventable deaths of innocent children—how do you come back from that?

STRAY OBSERVATIONS:

I’m always looking for hints that perhaps Jimmy or Perry know Superman’s secret identity deep down, and Jimmy’s anger at Lois and Clark on their return to the Daily Planet offices would seem to give that theory some credence, as he’s as angry at them as if he knew Clark really were Superman. Either that, or he’s ticked that it fell to him, and none of them to escort Cat into the morgue. [Max: Has this issue finally converted you to the “Jimmy is terrible” side now, Don?]

I don’t think I’m the only one who disliked the new Toyman—SPOILERS BE HERE: years later, in Action Comics #865, Geoff Johns retconned this whole story, reverting Schott into the criminal who over-relates to kids, rather than the child-killer of this story. Apparently the infantile Schott, who speaks to “Mother” a la Norman Bates, is a robot so lifelike it fools even Superman, and the “Mother” he’s constantly replying to was the real Winslow Schott trying to recall the malfunctioning robot. [Max: That’s one Geoff Johns retcon I really didn’t mind, even if it felt kind of derivative of his similar “all the Brainiacs are robots made by the real Brainiac” reveal.]

#superman #dan jurgens #josef rubinstein #toyman #cat grant #adam morgan #dan turpin #whit #gangbusteen #super luthor fighter ii turbo championship edition

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shemakesmusic-uk · 3 years

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Getting To Know...

Jelly Cleaver.

South London guitarist, activist, producer, and singer-songwriter Jelly Cleaver has released her debut EP with her group “The Forever Presence” (which features members of Levitation Orchestra and Steam Down).

The EP Forever Presence is out noe via taste-maker independent label Gearbox Records (Binker & Moses, Levitation Orchestra, Abdullah Ibrahim, Thiago Nassif), and follows the recent release of her singles: ‘Forever Presence: Pt. 2′, which saw Cleaver introduce her unique and progressive style of ballad; and the environmentally-charged ‘Black Line’, which saw Cleaver merge expansive jazz, psych, lofi soul, and blues rock, as well as including an impassioned, blistering guitar solo.

We had a chat with Jelly all about the EP, her influences, activism and more. Read the Q&A below.

Hi Jelly! Firstly, what was it that led you to make music? Who were you influenced by growing up?

"I guess I’ve loved music since I can remember and I was playing the guitar since I could hold one. I really got into music and started spending all my free time writing songs when I was about 13 or 14 though. Pretty much all I used to listen to was music from the 1960s; I loved Jimi Hendrix, Joni Mitchell and Nina Simone. Apart from all things 60s I also loved the jazz singers, Ella, Billie and Sarah, and I had a best of John Coltrane CD I used to fall asleep to, but I was pretty much the only person I knew who liked jazz at the time. I was also obsessed with Jeff Buckley and Destiny’s Child but not much else from the 90s. That pretty sums up teenage Jelly."

You've just released your debut EP Forever Presence. What is the story behind the EP and what do you hope listeners take away from it?

"In some ways it’s quite a classic lockdown EP story. Us musicians were forced to take a break from gigging, and I started looking at some of the songs I’d written which I didn’t tend to perform because they were all ballads and didn’t really fit my live set. All the songs were inspired by some kind of deep loss and grief, whether loss of a loved one, loss of a community or climate grief. It was something I felt was particularly pertinent at the time when so many people were dealing with some kind of loss of grief due to covid. When restrictions had lifted enough I managed to persuade a bunch of really gifted musicians (half of whom were my housemates, luckily enough) to jump into a recording studio with me and we put the whole thing down in a day without ever rehearsing those pieces before as a band. It all happened very organically as I wanted to really capture our emotions and immediate reactions on the day. The record is really an offering to those who are grieving or dealing with loss, I hope it can help them in some way."

Please take us through your creative process for Forever Presence. Which part did you enjoy the most and what about it did you find the most challenging?

"Like I said, I’d already written all the music, and the hardest part was organising getting all the musicians in the recording studio on the day. Minus the logistics, the creative process happened quite naturally. Before we even played a note we all sat down and I chatted very candidly about what all the compositions were about, and I’m really grateful I was with the kind of people who would get what I was talking about. I thought once everyone knew what the music was about it would come out sounding right. We’d then play through it once or twice just so people understood the structure, and then we’d hit record."

You perform at activist events and organise workshops and gigs to celebrate freedom of movement and migrant rights. Please tell us more about that? How did you get into it? What does it mean to you?

"I’d always been into volunteering and fundraising as a teenager but as I got older I started to realise that so many problems in the world are systemic, and the best thing we can do to help people is to actually try and change those systems. Migrant rights in particular is something I feel really strongly about, and I hope if more people knew what was happening they’d feel the same way too. With the Black Lives Matter movement last year I think more people are aware that they should try and tackle systemic racism, and I think fighting for migrant rights is one of the most urgent things antiracists should do. Standing up against charter flights and fighting against horrific legislation like the Nationality and Boarders Bill or the Police and Crime bill are just some of the things people can do."

You've had an incendiary rise over the last year. What has been the biggest highlight for you so far? And what are you looking forward to in the future?

"One of the biggest highlights was probably being nominated for an Ivors Composer Award. I stood out from the rest of the jazz nominees for quite a few reasons, mostly being the only woman, but also being a self-taught musician and composer and having a completely self-released and self-funded composition. It’s a huge amount of work having to be completely budget and DIY about everything, especially as it’s something a lot of my contemporaries don’t have to deal with, so it was really nice to get that recognition. I’m looking forward to recording the next Forever Presence album and releasing some new projects too in the future. It’s very open musically so even I’m not sure how it’s going to sound yet!"

Photo credit: Kasia Kawalek

Forever Presence is out now.

#getting to know #jelly cleaver #forever presence

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freudensteins-monster · 4 years

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Live From My Bedroom! It’s Darcy Lewis!

Based on a fic prompt I received forever ago and have been working on ever since.

Images used in the fake youtube screenshots were sourced almost entirely from Kat Dennings and RDJ's social media accounts.

Please note that this has been written in a very basic script/video transcript format. And has not been beta'd. Fingers crossed it's still easy to read. xoxox

Chapter One: Whatever Happened to Darcy Lewis?

[Title Card: A cheap animated explosion solely using colours from the Lisa Frank colour wheel with the text “LIVE FROM MY BEDROOM! IT’S DARCY LEWIS!” in the middle.]

[Video opens on a cheerful woman in her 30’s sitting in what looks like a teenager’s bedroom from the 90’s. The walls are covered in band/movie posters and the shelves are full of books, Barbies, and other toys from the era. The woman has long wavy brown hair and she is wearing a dark blue t-shirt with a Grumpy Bear symbol on it.]

Hello world! It’s Darcy Lewis here, cashing in on the childhood nostalgia train by launching my very own youtube channel. [winning smile] So… Whatever Happened to Darcy Lewis? This was a question posed to me by a random stranger after she had been staring at me for a solid five minutes as I stood in the tampon aisle of my local grocery store trying to make a decision.

[Cut scene]

[Text on screen: *Dramatic recreation]

[Darcy, dressed in basic t-shirt, staring at shelf of tampons]

[notices someone watching her]

[turns head]

Darcy dressed up like a yoga mom, caught staring: OMG. I am so sorry. It’s just that you look just like that kid from that tv show.

Darcy, dressed in a basic t-shirt, holding two boxes of tampons: [deadpan voice] I get that all the time.

Yoga Mom!Darcy: [deep in thought] Whatever happened to that girl anyway?

Darcy: [still holding up two boxes of tampons] I heard she moved to Florida to breed alligators.

Yoga Mom!Darcy: [shocked face] Really?!

Darcy: [still holding up two boxes of tampons] …No.

[End cut scene]

So, yeah, I am that kid from that tv show. In 1990, at the age of five, I was cast in the sitcom Live from Suburbia! If you don’t remember it you were probably watching Full House. That, or you’re just too young. It’ll be thirty years this month since Live from Suburbia! first aired, and come December I am going to be thirty-five years old.

[video goes black and white, zooms in on a distraught Darcy’s face]

[Psycho shower scene music plays]

[Darcy shakes herself out of it and video returns to normal]

So, yeah, I forgive you if you haven’t seen it.

[Text flashes on screen: HEY NETFLIX! PICK IT UP ALREADY!]

My parents have probably never even seen an episode they weren’t on set for either. They were never really keen on the idea of me becoming a child actor. They’re both college professors – they were prepared for, like, mathletes or debate club, not driving me to auditions and having me take classes with a tutor in a trailer parked outside a soundstage. [laughs] But I was super obsessed with Drew Barrymore in E.T. and when my mom explained that E.T. wasn’t real, and that Drew was an actress, I decided that was what I wanted to do. So when I heard people talking about auditions being held at a local shopping mall, and that they were looking for a “precocious” 5-6 year old girl, I kind of demanded that my parents let me go. That audition was for a cereal commercial – I didn’t get it, but the casting director liked me so when they were starting the casting process for Live from Suburbia! they asked me to audition for the role of Siouxsie.

[Text appears on screen: *NOT SUSIE. SIOUXSIE. LIKE SIOUXSIE AND THE BANSHEES. #endthedebate]

Live from Suburbia! was about a wannabe rock star from LA, played by a pre-famous, pre-infamous, Tony Stark, who had to put his dreams on hold and move to the suburbs when he becomes the sole guardian of his two kids; Siouxsie and Hendrix, played by a pre-teen Clint Barton. You might recognise him too; his most recent album just went platinum.

[images of Clint Barton rocking out on stages around the world flash on screen]

The show was axed in 1994 and I pretty much went back to the real world for a few years and went back to school full time. My parents were pretty insistent on that. Towards the end of middle school they let me get back in contact with my agent and I soon got a recurring role as mean girl Kaitlyn on the Disney Channel show Total Drama Teens. And later on when I was a senior in high school I played Void, the goth hacker-slash-tech support to a brooding vigilante in one of the last great straight-to-video action duds of the Blockbuster era.

[sudden dramatic close up]

But we don’t talk about that.

[zoom out]

After high school I went to Culver University and studied full time. My parents insisted I get a “real degree” so I ended up majoring in Political Science with a minor in Drama, instead of the other way around, and without the Political Science, like I wanted. After I graduated, despite my parents’ concerns, I moved to L.A. to try and become an actress full time. You might remember me from such unforgettable roles as the “kooky” comedic relief-slash-best friend in five different rom-coms from the mid-2000’s – four of which were called Jenny. I am not kidding.

[Images of her characters appear on screen: Jenny, Jenny, Jennie, Madison, and Jenny.]

I’ve also had bit parts on every Law & Order and CSI series there is, and had recurring roles as the “kooky” girlfriend in about three different sitcoms over the past five years.

[Darcy sighs]

[Text on screen: SIGHS IN TYPECAST]

Most recently I finished work on my first serious dramatic role in an indie movie called Bottled Lightning. It’s been entered in a few film festivals, I’ve gotten some good reviews for my performance, but as of last week it had still not secured a distribution deal. So, yeah… That one’s probably only going to be seen by a dozen film critics from three different film festivals and then sort of disappear into the unknown. [pouts] So here I am. Taking a break from the grind of auditioning. In my time capsule of a childhood bedroom. Housesitting for my parents while they’re drinking their way across Europe.

[Darcy sighs again]

[Text on screen: SIGHS IN UNREALISED POTENTIAL]

My parents suggested I just give up on the whole acting thing altogether, move closer to them, get a “real job”… So I created a youtube channel instead. [cheeky smile] I’ve got a few ideas for upcoming episodes. Next week I’m going to be doing a reaction video to the pilot episode of Live from Suburbia! It’s been a good twenty-five years since I’ve seen it, but I’ve got the entire series on VHS. …just got to figure out how to get that digital so I can insert it into one of these videos…

[pensive music]

[Text on screen: COME ON NETFLIX! HELP A GIRL OUT!]

And then maybe a reaction to the first episode of Full House, or a review of the best child actor performances... Maybe if these videos get some traction I might even be able to do some interviews with other child actors – what do you think? Let me know in the comments. And I’m sure you know the drill already: Like, Subscribe, and Share. Thanks for dropping by! I’ll see you next week!

[Darcy blows a kiss to camera, screen fades to black]

NEXT VIDEO: Live from Suburbia! Pilot Episode Reaction (feat. Fizzgig)

*** ** ***

Notes: NEXT VIDEO is not indicative of what the next chapter is about but done simply to imply that Darcy has a whole lot of other videos on her channel that I haven’t written. Also, I named her parent’s cat Fizzgig for the 80s/90s kid vibes.

Tagging everyone who commented on the original tumblr fic prompt in case you wanted to see the end result. @zephrbabe @evieplease @endlesscalendar @lynnestra44 @founderofshield @oldenoughtobeyourmama @typhoidmeri @phoenix-173 @suzieqsez @kiaraalexisklay @slytherinstarkravingmad

#live from my bedroom!#it's darcy lewis #darcy lewis #steve rogers #tony stark #darcy lewis x steve rogers #whatever happened to darcy lewis #child actors #child actor au #actor au #youtuber au #freudensteins-fics

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celestial-academia · 3 years

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My Best Friend’s Exorcism Review (spoiler free)

4/5 stars. Full length review under the cut

Abby and Gretchen have been friends since fourth grade. Now they are sophmores in high school in 1988. One evening, the girls go skinny dipping, but now Gretchen is acting different. She’s moody and irritable. She looks sick. Abby’s suspicions lead her on an investigation with a discovery that startles her. The fate of their friendship will be determined by one single question: Is their friendship powerful enough to defeat the devil?

I heard about this book from Oliviareadsalatte over on youtube and was immediately intrigued because 1) that title? Hell yeah? 2) the cover? Absolutely beautiful and 3) 1980s horror inspired by the time’s Satanic panic? Asbo-fucking-lutely.

Grady Hendrix’s writing is simple, but in a way that keep the reader engaged. I’ve said it in my last review and I’ll say it again here, I am not crazy about men writing women or female friendships, but Hendrix did an amazing job portraying the complexities of a friendship between teenage girls. He’s definately a rare male author who knows what he’s doing when it comes to writing women. It should also be noted that he manages to keep the story a funny at times while managing to make and keep the reader in an uneasy state.

This story falls just short of being great for me and I believe that it comes from my gripe that the pacing was a bit slow. It took a little too long for Abby to even begin to guess the Gretchen may be possessed. The in between time was still enjoyable, but I think this book could have benefitted from being faster paced even if it meant that it would be a shorter novel. However, now that I’m typing this out, I think that this may have been intentional to reflect the storytelling style of the 1980s in which things were not as fast paced as they are now and the horror didn’t necessarily need to be in your face 24/7 for it to be considered scary. All that being said, shit really hit the fan in the third act. It was very intense and have me goosebumps from how spooked I was. I remember I was sitting in front of a window at night reading this and was so nervous that something was behind me.

At the end of all of it, this is a story of the strength of friendship wrapped in a supernatural horror package and it was delightful.

⅘ stars

#my best friend's exorcism #grady hendrix #grady hendrix review #book review #my best friend's exorcism review #review #goodreads review #goodreads challenge #dark academic #dark academia #light academic #light academia #aesthetic

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natromanxoff · 4 years

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Queen live at Hyde Park in London, UK - September 18, 1976 (Part-1)

An interesting bit about the Hyde Park gig (thanks to Jane Palm-Gold): "The white boiler suit Fred wore coming onstage was especially chosen by him so that he could be seen from miles away (because white stands out at a distance) and even better (and this is great but you have to know this place really - a London landmark for many years) it was acquired at Lawrence Corner at Euston (!), a tatty second hand clothes /hire place where a lot of clothes /outfits were hired from for band promo shoots - for instance they had a lot of military stuff there."

(x)

After the success of A Night At The Opera (and not to mention how the weekly Sounds readers' poll elected the band #1 in the best album, best single, and best band categories), Queen wanted to pay the British fans back for back their loyalty and support over the last few years. Whilst in Japan earlier in the year, they came up with the idea to stage a massive free concert. With the help of record industry entrepreneur Richard Branson (creator of Virgin Records/megastores) they started making plans for the Hyde Park show, which turned into a mini tour along with the Edinburgh and Cardiff shows. It is estimated that between 150-200 thousand people turned up at Hyde Park, which is still a record for the venue to this day. This show cemented their position in the top bracket of rock bands. The stage used was the same stage that was constructed for the Rolling Stones concert at the Knebworth Fair a few weeks earlier.

Queen's first huge show at home brought certain areas of London to a grinding halt, and space on public transportation was at a premium. The concert took place on the anniversary of Jimi Hendrix's death. A banner hung from a tree that read "Hendrix Lives," and at one point in the show Brian May noticed it with much appreciation. The band are seen in the photos above arriving at the venue, where they were joined backstage by Pink Floyd's Roger Waters. Supercharge, Steve Hillage, Rufus, and Kiki Dee (along with a cardboard cut-out of Elton John, who couldn't make it to join her for Don't Go Breaking My Heart) played before Queen (Be-Bop Deluxe and John Miles were supposed to be on the bill as well, but were axed for some reason). A pro-shot video of Steve Hillage's performance exists as well as Queen's. There was a fight in the audience during Hillage's set, during which he played extended trippy versions of It's All Too Much by The Beatles and Hurdy Gurdy Man by Donovan. Also notable is Supercharge's singer Albie Donnelly parodying Freddie Mercury in a white leotard and a half mic stand. The first half of the A Day At The Races overture is aired publicly for the first time (the upcoming album had been partially recorded by this point). The usual Bohemian Rhapsody opening sequence then commences for the last time. The band make their entrance, and everybody near the stage stands up (the audience had been seated on the grass for the opening acts). This angers many fans who are further back (roughly 90% of the audience now cannot see the stage), so they start lobbing cans, bottles, or whatever else that can be thrown. After a few songs, Freddie asks everyone simply to calm down: "I have been requested by the constabulary for you not to throw little things around, tin cans or whatever. So make this a peaceful event, ok? Sit on your arses and listen." Brian, after his solo spot in Brighton Rock (he stutters a bit, revealing that he's still nervous): “From one piece of nonsense to another, I’ve said it before. This is something we wanted to do with the London Philharmonic but they didn’t show up, so we will do the ethnic version of a song called '39." He is seen in a dazzling new outfit tonight, which he'd wear every night through Japan 1979. It would become the outfit he'd change into during the opera section of Bohemian Rhapsody. "Clap along and stuff," he urges the audience, as he plays the intro of what he'd later describe as the first song about Einstein's general theory of relativity. After '39, Freddie audaciously performs the as-of-yet unreleased You Take My Breath Away alone on the piano, even hitting many of the falsetto notes that he'd excise in 1977 versions. He then gets cheeky and introduces The Prophet's Song as "a little shorter number from our album A Night At The Opera." Perhaps he still had You Take My Breath Away in his head, as he begins the a cappella section with what would become the first line of the A Day At The Races ballad instead of the usual "oh, people can you hear me?" bit. He also references Death On Two Legs, as he had done a few times earlier in the year. After Stone Cold Crazy, the band play Keep Yourself Alive and Liar, having dropped Doing All Right and Lazing On A Sunday Afternoon from the set. The combination of these three heavy numbers would prove to be very effective, and they would stick with it for their following North American tour. Liar is a great version, with many great Mercuryisms throughout. Before the last song, Brian coyly says, "This is In The Lap Of The Gods, or something like that." The band play a similar set to the ones they did in Edinburgh and Cardiff, except they drop Doing All Right, Lazing On A Sunday Afternoon and Tie Your Mother Down. They intended to perform their usual encore of Big Spender and Jailhouse Rock, but the show had run a half hour past its scheduled ending time (a curfew strictly enforced by the authorities). The police threatened to arrest the band if they went back on stage, and Freddie was later quoted saying how he would prefer not to be stuck in a jail cell in his leotard. And so, Bob Harris was left with the unenviable task of announcing to the crowd that the show was over. He later recalled how difficult and nerve-wracking it was to tell an audience of this size who had waited for about ten hours that there would be no encore. Now I'm Here was the first encore every night around this time, making this the one time between 1974 and 1986 where the song is not performed. The liner notes of Live Killers suggest that Now I'm Here was dropped from the set for a while, but that is patently untrue. People in one section of the audience chanted "Why are we waiting," all in good fun, knowing full well the show was over. The police soon turned off the main power feed to the park, forcing hundreds of thousands of people to make their way out in sheer darkness. Their reasoning was that it was the only way to "control" such a large number of people who had been rowdy throughout the day. In a 1977 interview with Capital Radio, Brian recalls the day: "It had a great sunny day for it, and everyone had a good time. There were still altercations on the day, and there was a big thing with the powers that be because they wouldn't let us go on and do the encore, about which we were very upset, having worked up for months and prepared for all that. They got very frightened because there were 150,000 people in Hyde Park in the dark, and they thought they were going to get out of hand. But in fact, there was no possible danger happening at all. Everyone was peaceful and having a good time."

This show is what epitomized their popularity in Britain, and when they felt they "had really made it," as Brian would later recall. On another occasion he said, "I think that Hyde Park was one of the most significant gigs in our career. There was a great affection because we'd kind of made it in a lot of countries by that time, but England was still, you know, we weren't really sure if we were really acceptable here. So it was a wonderful feeling to come back and see that crowd and get that response." Despite the fact that the audience had been there all day watching the various opening acts and waiting, the band delayed the show as long as possible just so it could get dark enough for their lighting and various other effects to make their full impact (as demanded by Freddie). Throughout the show, the band's nervousness and excitement for the occasion are evident. Most of the audience couldn't see a thing during Queen's set, since the stage was barely elevated. "The smell of the dry ice and the sound are the only sensory memories I have of this show," recalls Jane Palm-Gold. Here is an article from the day of the show,

and a review from a week later (both were submitted by Boris Arkhangelsky).

Tonight would be the final performances of Flick Of The Wrist, Son And Daughter, and the (almost) full The Prophet's Song. A snippet of The March Of The Black Queen would be performed only once more in 1978, but a different part of the song.

Here is a Virgin Records flyer.

The second pic is the famous overhead shot that appeared in the October 9, 1976 Melody Maker. Pic 5 was submitted by Janneman, and pics 6 and 7 were submitted by Lukáš Bosík.

Fan Stories

“Well, I was 13 years old and had got into Queen through Night At The Opera and THAT video. I'd never been to a gig before and it took a lot of convincing of a sceptical mother to let me go to Hyde Park on my own. After answering the inevitable "no, I won't talk to strange men mum" questions I was allowed to go. The morning came and I was up at 6am, got my packed lunch together (can you imagine going off to a gig now with your sandwiches and orange juice!) and headed off to Hyde Park. I remember getting there so early that I was right by the crash barriers at the front and determined to try and hold my spot all day. As the day progeressed however I ended upmoving backwards slowly as people pushed in. I can remember savouring the whole build up, the support bands, everything. As dusk started to fall, the stage went dark and the dry ice started up. I broke my mums don't talk to strangers bit and a very nice bloke put me up on his shoulders so I could see them come on. I just remember the crash of light and sound as they came on as if it was yesterday (and not 27 years ago!). The rest of the gig was amazing and that was it, I was hooked on Queen and rock music. I saw Queen on every tour they ever did in England (and a few in Europe) after that but nothing compares to that first gig for me.”

- Andy

Part-2

Part-3

#queen #queen band #roger taylor #freddie mercury #brian may #john deacon #queen concerts

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eueden · 3 years

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⟨ MAUDE APATOW. CIS FEMALE. SHE/HER. ⟩ though the mist might prevent some from seeing it, EDEN KOPPELMAN is actually a descendent of H E S T I A. it’s still a question of whether or not the TWENTY-THREE year old VETERINARY from CAPE TOWN, SOUTH AFRICA has taken after their godly parent completely, but the demigod is still known to be quite THOUGHTFUL & QUIXOTIC.

hi, hello, allô, hola, ciao, ella here again with another character. okay so there’s not much to say about me that most of you don’t already know, i have no life and i’m always lurking even if i never do replies (don’t tell the admins) hgsghssghs anyway, this is eden and in a shocking turn of events i actually have a good idea of who she is and look i even made a graphic, if that’s ain’t dedication then i don’t what it is.

basic information.

NAME: eden atara koppelman

PRONUNCIATION: EE - d uh n

NICKNAME: E?? idk

GENDER: cis female

PLACE OF BIRTH: brisbane, queensland, australia

HOMETOWN: cape town, south africa

DATE OF BIRTH: june 26, 1997

AGE: twenty-three

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: heterosexual so far but secretly curious

MAJOR: veterinary

EXTRACURRICULARS: president of the jewish student association, vice president of the herpetology club, president of the volunteer service, women in leadership member, student government member

SPORTS: captain of the climbing team and co-captain of the track & field team

character inspo.

Jessica Day (New Girl) ✖ ✖ ✖ ✖

Elliott Reid (Scrubs) ✖ ✖ ✖ ✖ ✖ ✖

Amy Santiago (Brooklyn 99) ✖ ✖ ✖ ✖

background.

tw: death, infant death, car accident, fire

Eden was born in Brisbane, Australia. She comes from an animal lover family. Her grandparents are very popular down under because they had an animal TV show à la Steve Irwin. Her dad followed their footsteps and it’s a well-known zoologist who also had some TV shows (think of Bear Grylls).

TW: death, infant death, car accident. Matthias Koppelman (her dad) had been previously married but lost his wife and child in a car accident and after that he isolated himself from the public eye and moved to Namibia.

At twenty-eight, he felt the need to climb Mount Everest as one does, ya know? But ofc this man hadn’t climbed in years (he had experience but he’d been too sad to climb mountains. I mean he could barely leave bed, let alone climb Everest). That didn’t stop him and he did.

He almost d worded there bc as I said he was not ready but that’s when Hestia queen of fire showed up and warmed him (in a non sexual way bc she’s pure okay) and he was like oh that was a near dead experience and didn’t think much.

After he conquered the Everest with the help of Hestia, he moved back to Australia and oh surprise a few months later he opened his door and voilá a bebé was there with a note that said “you deserve to have a family, love hestia”

He was shocked like “did i just impregnate a fantasy?” but then Hestia was kind enough to send another and explain everything.

Anyway, Eden lived in Brisbane for four years before her dad took a job in South Africa. They moved to Cape Town (and her grandparents came with them) and pretty much had a happy life surrounded by animals.

TW: fire. When she was nine, her dad took her to a game reserve in Limpopo and by some reason a fire started endangering animals and flora. Everyone was panicking bc I mean wouldn’t u? But Eden was attracted to the flames like a pyro (the good kind tho) and since everyone had better things to do than taking care of a child, they left her unsupervised and she delved into the fire.

Ofc nothing happened to her because ✨immunity✨ but guess who showed up again? Hestia!!!! Being a great goddess and mom, she taught Eden how to use her powers so she could absorb the fire and save all the animals and people.

Everyone was like holy shit a miracle and the firefighters were like “the fuck? we did shit but we gonna take the credit lol”

Eden was like “did that just happen?” and yes, it did but she was like “meh that was imagination” and her dad was like *nervous chuckle* “yeah…” because he didn’t want to tell her the truth since that could put her in danger.

At 13, she had her bat mitzvah and it was all fun and games until fire lady showed up aka Hestia. Her dad and Hestia explained everything and Eden was like:

Hestia claimed her and off to camp she went. For the next few years she went to camps all over the world as a treat.

She never went on a quest bc she was afraid and also because she couldn’t put herself in danger and risk losing her life bc her dad already had lost a child… so yeah

Her dad remarried when she was seventeen and a year later she welcomed a new baby brother and that’s why she decided to take a gap year to be with her bro and also work with her dad in the reserves.

She moved to Athens when she was nineteen and decided to go into veterinary school. So yes Ella will get her dog one way or another idc what the admins say :chaos:

Ahhhh that’s all folks!!! We did it!

FULL BIO (yes, i completed it this time)

personality.

Eden never loses her sense of curiosity. You could say that she sees life through rose colored glasses as if she lived on the edge of a mirror country where worldly objects come to life, where flora and fauna assume almost human qualities.

She has the ability to see the good in almost anyone or anything and tends to sympathize with even the most unfriendly person. She often hides the extreme depth of feelings from her, even from herself, until circumstances elicit a passionate response.

She has a deep sense of idealism that comes from a strong personal sense of right and wrong. She sees the world as a place full of possibilities and potentials and is governed by her intuition. She is quite reserved and is not easily manipulated.

She is a good listener and considerate, they try to care for and understand others in a deep way. She can be very calm and intuitive with the people around her, being able to search for hidden meanings in the actions and words of others.

Of course, all of life is not rosy and Eden is not exempt from suffering the same disappointments and frustrations that are common to others. She tends to be a perfectionist and often strives for personal ideals that can be exhausting or very difficult to obtain.

She also struggles with time management, always leaving everything to the last minute claiming she “works better under pressure” but the truth is she’s just a procrastinator.

Very sensible, she cries almost every day either because of a commercial or a sweet story she read on Facebook. It doesn’t matter, if it’s slightly emotional she will shed some tears.

powers.

pyrokinesis: This power first manifested when she was nine years old and she helped to save an animal reserve from the flames with the help of Hestia. Since she was claimed when she was thirteen, she’s learned how to use this power. Now she can summon fire without any problem and put it out just as fast. This is very helpful because she loves baking but she’s a bit clumsy so she often burns herself, but thankfully, she’s immune, so no pain. However, Eden has never been able to create a hot wall of flames nor she has ever asked how to do that, she just hopes she never has to use it.

serenity inducement: Eden avoids conflict at all cost, not only it makes her cry but also makes her very uncomfortable and anxious which is why this was the first power she manifested. She was just a child but from what she remembers it was during a class in preschool that a kid started hitting another one. Eden panicked at such an act of violence she went there and touched the bully’s shoulder which immediately calmed him. Back then she didn’t know it was a power but after finding out about her true identity, many other events like this started to make sense. This is the power she uses the most, also with animals which is why she makes such a good veterinarian because she can calm an animal's nerves.

bond manipulation: She wouldn’t say this is one of her weakest powers but it’s one she didn’t use often growing up because she came from such a stable family that it didn’t seem necessary, however, she sometimes catches herself using it in group projects or at her workplace, you know, to keep things healthy and positive.

ability to summon food: By far the one she uses the least (personally speaking), she likes cooking and baking, so she doesn’t see the point but she does use it to feed stray animals.

headcanons.

Eden speaks fluent English, she has a mixed South African and Australian accent but she can switch. At school, half of her classes were in Afrikaans, so she also speaks it fluently. Greek comes from her demigod side, but she also took some classes back in school upon her father’s request. Growing up in a very Jewish family, her grandparents believed it was pretty important that Eden learned Yiddish and Hebrew, she can read it perfectly but struggles speaking it, especially Yiddish because she also attended Hebrew school. As for French, she learned in high school and she still takes lessons at Eonia but she hates it.

Her father started taking her to a climbing gym when she was five and by the time she was ten she was already climbing 6a routes which is pretty much an intermediate level and very impressive for her age.

She had her own TV show on Discover Kids titled “Eden’s Wildlife Adventure” in which she explained the importance of different types of animals. The first seasons were shot between Australia and South Africa, but in later seasons she traveled across Africa and South America. The show ran from 2005-2011 (which was when she was claimed).

Dreams of climbing Mount Everest before her 30th birthday.

Her father is a classic rock band and so is she. Her animals have been named after influential musicians. Right now she has a cat named Hendrix, a horse named Cobain, a dog named Mick. Growing up her father took care of a baby lion which they named Little Richard because he was smaller than most lion cubs. Over the years, his father and grandparents have fostered several wild animals while they recover or before they are sent to a reserve. Among the animals they have fostered are elephants, giraffes, zebras, cheetahs, leopards, hippos and more.

While she loves rock, she’s also a sucker for 2000s pop. Please don’t ask her about modern artists because she’s clueless.

She’s fed up with the Mean Girl jokes, we get it she grew up in Africa and she’s white.

She is a proud Jewish girl and follows many traditions. She does attend the local synagogue during Yom Kippur and Rosh Hashanah. And of course, Hanukkah is her favorite holiday. Her family practices Reform Judaism, so she doesn’t follow a kosher diet.

Eden was raised as a vegan and her whole family is vegan. In the past years, she has been in the process of becoming vegetarian.

Favorites: Anything written by Agatha Christie(book); Say Anything (1989) (movie); Everybody Wants to Rule the World by Tears for Fear (song);

Again, no one asked me but I will reply: “Ella, does Eden hate Iker?” “Well, thanks for asking. In a shocking turn of events, no she doesn’t. How come you might ask? Well, she doesn’t hate anyone but if she ever did then yes, she would hate him.”

pinterest | wanted connections

#euintro

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appleinducedsleep · 4 years

Text

The Southern Book Club’s Guide to Slaying Vampires Review

*spoilers*

Here is my review for @readerbookclub, finally. I feel very conflicted about this book. It succeeded in making me uncomfortable, because there was very little happiness to be found. Apparently it’s some kind of companion piece to Grady Hendrix’ My Best Friend’s Exorcism (which I didn’t read), though it’s not a sequel. The author’s note also tells us, that the author wanted to pit Dracula against his mom. Instead the premise became,; what if you know that your neighbour is a vampire, but your friends don’t believe you, and your cheating husband gaslights you at every turn. Also, your children hate you, because you tried to overdose on pills that one time before the book suddenly time-jumped 3 years. So...

What were your expectations before reading the book? Did it meet them? Would you consider re-reading it in the future?

I wanted a book club and vampires, so it delivered. I thought it would center more on those things though, and instead the story followed Patricia. There was a little backstory on the vampire, because Miss Mary (Carter’s mother) remembered him from when she was a young girl. Then she got murdered by rats, because she had this old picture, where James Harris was on, so she had to die.

I’m not sure if I would re-read it. It wasn’t really amazing, there weren’t even quotes that were really memorable.

How did you feel about the characters? What did you like about them? What didn't you like? If there's one character you could meet, who would they be and why?

We experienced the story through Patricia’s eyes, and her life is quickly going from bad to worse. She was a strange combination of strength and weakness. She let herself be walked over, then put herself in harm’s way on a hunch.

I probably liked Grace the most. I don’t know why, cause she was so prickly and aloof (okay, that’s probably exactly why). She was obsessed with cleaning, but it was probably to distract her from the abuse she suffered from her husband. She absolutely didn’t want to hear anything about vampires, but she showed up at the last minute. I liked her no-nonsense attitude.

I think I would like to meet James Harris though. He must have some interesting vampire stories to tell. Carter can go to hell though.

The genre of the book is horror. Did it succeed in making you tense or frightened? Which scene stood out most to you? Why?

I wasn’t frightened, but I did feel tense at certain parts. Every time Patricia confided in someone, I felt sure she’d be betrayed somehow. Like even Slick, the only one consistently in Patricia’s corner, betrayed her. Slick got punished for it, and that was pretty horrifying too, the complications were brutal.

The sea of rats flooding the basement, and then the bathroom. It immediately made me think of that scene in 1984, where they attach a rat cage to someone’s face as torture. So that was good use of horror. And it made me shudder.

Patricia hiding in the dusty attic, with the suitcase that held a dead body. James Harris knowing she was there.

The actual slaying of the vampire was memorable. Like the limbs moving in the separate trash bags, blood everywhere. I didn’t think James Harris would fall for all of that (I still think think he wouldn’t, but the plot does what it wants).

This is the second time we—as a book club—read a novel about another book club. Have you enjoyed that?

I love books about book clubs. I love it when a group is bound together by nothing else but a love for books. It was interesting how the book club changed throughout this book though, first the women were part of the Literary Guild of Mt. Pleasant book club with the controlling Marjorie Fretwell at the helm, then they started their own, small book club, all about true crime and friendship, before James Harris broke it apart and the book club wasn’t a cozy, safe space anymore. It was this big thing, where the men joined and the core group couldn’t even discuss the books they liked.

Did you find the novel predictable or did it surprise you?

Everything kind of falls apart after the suicide attempt. It did not make sense... how the story unfolded after the time-jump wasn’t something I saw coming. I already send an ask to @readerbookclub about it. I was so annoyed. Also, I could not believe James Harris fell for that seduction attempt. He told her he wouldn’t and then he did, like a second later. He was supposed to be this mastermind, but instead he got duped pretty easily. How did he survive for all those decades?

The not-so-book club love to read true crime books? Is this a genre that you enjoy? If not, did they make you curious to explore it?

I’m more into true crime documentaries, but I have read several books about famous murder cases. I love detective stories and thrillers, like the Hannibal series. I think I would like a book club like that.

It's very rare for suburban mums to be the lead characters of a novel, especially one about vampires. What did you think of the writer mixing two very different worlds into one story?

In the book’s Author Note, he writes that he didn’t take his mom seriously. That she was a housewife in a book club, that they seemed like a bunch of lightweights to him. There is also a blurb on the cover saying:

“Hendrix has masterfully blended the disaffected housewife trope with a terrifying vampire tale, and the anxiety and tension are palpable... a cheeky, spot-on pick for bookclubs. - Booklist, starred review”

It was kind of trope-y. All the women in the book club had pretty terrible husbands, that either gaslighted them (Carter), smacked them around (Grace’s husband), or ran them into debt (Horse). Of course, everyone was pretty much broke at the end, James Harris sucked them dry in more ways than one. I thought the book would be a fun team effort, where they would hunt the vampire down together (though that scene was pretty hardcore). The true happy ending was that she divorced Carter, and the kids wanted to stay with her, despite the cheap apartment. And that Mrs Greene got her kids back, now it was safe for them to come home again. She deserved it.

#the southern book club's guide to slaying vampires #readerbookclub #bookclub #my review #apples reviews #booklr #books #my posts #I don't have much to say about this book #I thought I would love it

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headoverhiddles · 4 years

Text

Like A Heretic - Marilyn Manson x Reader [Fluff]

Synopsis: You know Manson from one (1) party, yet he feels the need to drunk text you his obscene propositions at 2 am on a Wednesday?

Notes: What?? I wrote a fluff fic?? Yea, it’s been known to happen. Shhh. Pale Emperor era. Also, this one is gender neutral, reader can be any gender!

You collapse into the plush of your down comforter, feeling the fluffy feathers sink beneath you. Smiling to yourself, you clear the day away in your brain, bulldozing over every worry, publicity problem, or stressed manager that could be dealt with the next day. For now, you’re in your bed, and nothing can come between you and a peaceful night’s sleep.

You cuddle into your pillow. The feeling you’ve got right now is comparable to a the perfect orgasm-- you never want to leave this bed. Your mind starts to drift, and you picture yourself on a beach somewhere, where no one can reach you. No one... no one... except that bee buzzing in your ear.

Groggily, you open your eyes. That’s not a bee. It’s your phone.

Dammit, why didn’t you put it on silent? You go to turn it off properly, but the text on your screen makes you hesitate. You blink a few times, squinting through the dark at your phone. Were you reading that right?!

Manson: Hey (y/n) psssst. I’ve got a secret can I tell you the secret

“What the fuck?” you mumble out loud, and sigh, turning on your bedside lamp. Manson? What... oh. Oh, yeah. About two months ago, you had attended a music awards event in New York, and had met a few new people. One of them had been Marilyn Manson. He had been a lot more down to earth than you had imagined he would be, and the two of you hit it off pretty well.

It struck you as interesting as well, but he had followed you around that night like a lost puppy. He always wanted to be around you, and it had been him who had suggested you exchange numbers, maybe hang out, go see a movie or something. You had excitedly given him your number, but didn’t think much would come of it. He probably got lots of people’s numbers, then forgot about them the next week.

So why was he texting you at... 2:13 in the morning?! You stare at the same text again.

Manson: Hey (y/n) psssst. I’ve got a secret can I tell you the secret

You bite your lip, and type out a quick text back.

(y/n): Shoot.

His reply is almost immediate.

Manson: I wanted to say when I saw you and we hung out at radio city last month you were cute really sexy n beautiful ad I miss you :( :(

You blush a little bit, but type back a cautious text.

(y/n): You feeling alright?

Before you can hit send though, another text from him comes in.

Manson: If you think I am drunk and handsome you are correct, i’m both

You giggle a little, and sit up fully. Manson’s drunk texting you, telling you you’re cute? This couldn’t get any crazier if you made it up.

Manson: Do you know what sexting is?

You raise your eyebrows.

(y/n): I’m familiar with it, yes.

You bite your lip. Should you add a winky face? Before you can, he writes back.

Manson: what if i told you I wanted to lick your body ad probably do butt stuff with you too?

You feel yourself heat up even more, and you don’t know whether to laugh or get aroused.

(y/n): You fucking with me, Manson?

Manson: I would like to fuck you, yes.

(y/n): So... tell me more, then. What else would you do to me?

Manson: Id cum on your chest

Manson: oops was that too far?

(y/n): No... go on.

Manson: maybe on your face then if you want that, I wanna be respectful

Manson: I’d also punish your sex hole. i’m really good at that

(y/n): You sound like a porn bot lol

Manson: dirty old man in your area looking for hot singles <3 that looks like a pointy dick

You giggle, and are about to sign off so you can sleep for real, but he texts again with something that makes you pause.

Manson: Wanna cum over?

You stare at the text, waiting to see if he’ll write again. You wait, and wait. Nothing else is coming in. You type out a few possible responses. Then you finally hit send on your last one, biting your lip.

(y/n): What’s your address?

Shit. Shit shit! What are you doing? Looking back at your bed though, you can’t deny you feel a thrill. This is the shit you moved here to LA to do.

---

Pulling up to Manson’s address, the place is just like him-- not what you were expecting. It’s a dark apartment above a liquor store, with black out curtains covering the window. You walk over to the stairs, and catch the door when someone walks out. Heading inside, you look down at your phone, and find his number. Apartment 15.

You knock softly, and wait. When he doesn’t come to the door, you shoot him off another text.

(y/n): I’m at your door, don’t leave me hanging or I’ll leave you with a hard on

He doesn’t respond, and you hear a moan inside. You frown, and try the door handle-- it’s open. You walk in, forgetting momentarily where you are, and see that the place is a relative mess. Piles high of books, records and movies are stacked along the walls, and there’s like, one dying plant by the darkened window. It’s laughable to assume the poor thing gets any sun, which is also a statement that could be applied to the rock star you’d come to sleep with.

A bunch of album artwork for his new record, the Pale Emperor, is laid out on his table as well. You take a quick glance at it, before dropping your jacket.

“Hey,” you call out, “I’m taking my top off! You’re gonna miss it if you don’t come find me!” You hear the moan again, and walk down the hallway. “Oh, fuck.”

“’M alright...” He’s on the floor, in a puddle, four small cats surrounding him. One rusty colored one is lapping from the puddle. Was this a Jimmi Hendrix situation???

“Please don’t tell me that’s piss,” you mutter, “Cause I am not cleaning that up.”

One of his four cats meows loudly. Manson just laughs. “It’s vodka. I slipped and broke the bottle.”

“That I can clean up,” you nod, but first, you help him to his feet. He wobbles a little, and falls into you. Pinned against the wall, his lips are inches from yours... until his head thumps beside yours, lips pressed into your neck. He’s so fucking gone. You look around, and spot the washroom down the hall the other way. You help him slowly, and he keeps talking the whole way.

“You’re so fuckin’ gorgeous,” he mumbles, “My brain camera remembered you were hot but I didn’t remember you being this hot... mmhm...”

“You still down to fuck me?” you tease, helping him sit on the edge of his bathtub. His eyes widen a bit as he licks his lips and points a swaying finger.

“Baby I was born ready to fuck. I came out of the womb with an erection.”

You cringe. “That’s... a very disturbing mental image.”

“You know what else is disturbing? My DICK.” He frowns a little, nose scrunching up. “But not for... it’s not disturbing, it’s just disturbing how big it is... or...”

“Stop, you’re turning me on,” you smirk sarcastically, and get a towel, dabbing his face down with cool water. “How does that feel?”

“Oh baby, you feel so good, fuck,” he moans, and you blink. God damn, he really is wasted.

“Good to hear.” You plant a kiss on his cheek as you sponge down his arms, and he purrs like a big happy cat, nuzzling into your chest.

“Do that again?” You smile, and lean in, kissing him again, this time closer to his mouth. Then you kiss him again, and again, each one earning more praise from the god of fuck before you. “Mm yeah-- oh yeah-- yeah yeah, right there-- yeah yeah right there...” He grins, eyes closing. “Mmm, delightful.” He blinks up at you, swiping a hand across his smudged eyeliner. “Will you... be my friend?”

“Sure. Friends to lovers is always a fun way to go.” He seems genuinely happy with this. “You know, you’re sexy too,” you say, helping him take his shirt off. You glance down his chest and stomach at his tattoos, trying to focus on the project at hand instead of actually picturing riding him right now. “I thought so the night I met you at Radio City, and I think so now.”

“Really?” he hums, reaching up in his stupor to put a hand against his chin. He suddenly seems bashful, and realizing how vulnerable he’s made himself, hides half of his face. “Even without my makeup?”

“Definitely. I happen to think you’re beautiful.” He purses his lips.

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not! In fact, if you weren’t absolutely shit hammered right now, I’d probably want you balls deep.”

He groans. “Fuck it if I’m drunk, that’s when I’m in my strongest form!” He slips a little, steadying himself on the toilet as he stands.

“I would disagree with that, but...”

“Besides, with all those compliments, you’re... you’re making my dick hard, see? And now it’s... ahh, it’s gonna be mad at me if I don’t... you know, fuck you, so...”

“Shh, for now try to walk straight.”

“Where are my asshole cats?”

“They were all watching you describe your dick to me,” you say, and he wags a finger their way.

“Dooon’t listen to daddy, my loves. Nonono. Bad. This is grown up human people talk!”

You giggle. “You must like cats.”

“I am a cat person, I love cats. That’s why I don’t give it doggy style, cause I’m a cat man. The crazy cat man. That sounds like a serial killer...”

You giggle, and guide him back down the hall. “Where’s the bedroom?” He lifts his chin to gesture to it.

“Last door on the right.” You help him into bed, and he tosses a pillow at a tall vase in the corner, sending it shattering. “Goddamn ghosts in my house, watching me sleep,” he slurs, and points wildly to his closet. “The sex toys are in there, if you wanna get yourself started...”

You smile, politely neglecting the sex closet of the rock star you’d been booty called by. Masturbating in said rock star’s home while he’s passed out shitfaced doesn’t look good for anyone involved.

“Goodnight Manson,” you sing song, and shut his door. Pressing your back against it, you exhale. What just happened?

You carefully walk over to the spilled vodka, and check the shards of glass. Thankfully no blood anywhere-- that would have been even worse to clean up. You grab a rag from the kitchen, and start mopping up the floor. One of his cats walks over from the bathroom, and starts to rub against your ankle.

“Well, hi. What’s your name, love?” You check the tag. “William. Very handsome name. Handsome just like your dad.” You sigh, as William follows you around the apartment. You feel like you shouldn’t be here anymore. It was a mistake-- he was obviously too drunk to do anything to or with you tonight. You should just leave. Yeah. Go back home, forget this ever happened and... maybe check in with him tomorrow morning, see how bad his hangover is. If he responds.

Just as you’re about to leave though, you hear his slurred voice call from the bedroom. “(y/n)--!”

You hesitate, then walk back in, shutting the door. You walk over to his room, and open the door. “Yeah?”

“...Get into bed with me? Please? Wanna hold someone...”

You look behind you, and then to him again, where he’s laying, tangled in his limbs, in the large bed. You nod, and close the door to a crack, coming in. You unzip your hoodie, and before you can come to your senses, you get into one side of his king sized bed. You hear him breathing softly, and smile a little at the sudden intimacy of it all, turning over in fetal position. Not how you expected this night to turn out, but it might be even better.

Just as you’re falling asleep in the bed of the Antichrist, you feel arms wrap around you from behind, and feel his head in the nape of your neck. Beginnings of rare stubble scratch your skin pleasantly.

“This an okay alternative to butt stuff?” he mumbles, and you reach up to hold his wrists against you.

“It’s perfect.”

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calamity-bean · 4 years

Text

Notes: Barkskins Q&A

Barkskins fans! Today (6/28/20), American Cinematheque hosted a Barkskins Q&A webinar with creator Elwood Reid and cast members Marcia Gay Harden (Mathilde Geffard), Christian Cooke (Rene Sel), and David Thewlis (Claude Trepagny). Elwood, Marcia, and Christian were on the call live, while David was interviewed beforehand and his responses recorded. Topics discussed included:

The show’s general scope and the adaptation process

Historical research

Accent coaching

Colonialism and the portrayal of First Nations characters/cultures

Sets and wardrobe

An audience question for Marcia about Mathilde’s daughter

An audience question for Christian about Rene’s physical/action scenes

Here I’m sharing a summary of the notes I took during the talk. This isn’t a transcript and I didn’t write down everything, but I tried to note interesting things as accurately as I was able. Please pardon any misinterpretations or errors; I did the best I could, but if you remember something differently (or have something to add), feel free to let me know.

This got quite long... Lots of notes below!

The Show in General

First, the big one: the show has not yet been renewed for a second season, but Elwood is hopeful! He feels like season 1 just barely “set the table” for the story, only to yank the tablecloth off right at the end, and he wants more seasons so that viewers can really dig into the meal. It was always planned as multi-season, and right now he’s just hoping that there’s been a good enough viewing and that people talk enough about the show.

The season was originally slated for ten episodes, but had to be cut to nine and then to eight due to the weather changing and due to the time necessary to construct sets.

The book was considered to be a huge challenge to adapt -- almost unadaptable. Initially, Elwood had ideas for doing a generational / time-skip structure like in the novel, where each season would start over and focus on a new time period; however, one of the main reasons he scrapped that idea was because of the cast. He really adores the whole cast and is excited to write more stories for these actors rather than switching focus to new characters.

In general, the show was repeatedly described as being essentially about “haves” versus “have-nots” -- who are the “haves,” who are the “have-nots,” what do they want and what are they willing to do in order to become a “have.” It is also a show in which every character (except Rene, initially) has a secret and everyone has something they want that they can’t have.

Also, things such as which characters live/die will not be beholden to what happens in the book.

Historical and Character Research

Marcia and Christian have both read the entire book. Since Mathilde wasn’t in the novel, Marcia called up Elwood with a lot of ideas for how to develop the character, although in the end Mathilde became someone much gravelly, crass, and more conniving than she had initially expected. Christian was very impressed by the scope and uniqueness of the story and found Rene’s simple worldview appealing, describing Rene as a man of the forest, a man of the land, with desires that are simple but meaningful and noble: a better life, prosperity, a piece of his own land.

David read about the first hundred pages, and his initial idea of Trepagny was as someone much tougher and more physically imposing, as portrayed in the book. He then had to work to shed that preconception of the character into the very different Trepagny of the script. He described Trepagny as a man of contradictions: Is he good or bad? Charming or obnoxious? Vulnerable or a bully? Does he live in a cabin or a mansion? Does he worship a god / dual god or a rotten old log? Is he delusional or is he a visionary?

Primary source materials from the period that Elwood used in his historical research include the accounts of Jesuit missionaries, business ledgers describing trade and commerce, and a few memoirs from filles du roi. However, he found it difficult to find primary sources, especially in English, and was careful to remember that these accounts always had a French/colonial bias.

Marcia did a LOT of research on her own in order to better understand what conditions in France might have driven the Geffards to leave. She asked herself, “Why the hell would anyone leave France to come to these mosquito-filled woods with ostensibly hostile First Nations people and English? What was going on in that moment BEFORE they came over?”

Christian didn’t do much historical research but rooted his character in terms of the physical research he did, such as learning woodcutting. He said Rene came from a rural area of northern France and was a woodsman there as well.

Accent Coaching

Marcia said they did receive accent coaching, but they didn’t want to lean too hard into strong accents because they wanted to give the impression that the French characters were speaking French, which, as their native language, would be very fluid. So it was okay to not have a heavy accent in order to better communicate that effect.

It was also okay for everyone to have different takes on the French accent, because they wanted to give the effect that these characters were coming from all different parts of France and each had their own individual background. They felt that communicating the characters was more important than getting the accents entirely correct.

They likewise had Native actors speak English on screen when their characters were talking among themselves (even when the characters should be understood as not speaking English) so that the audience would get that same impression of fluidity, cleverness, and colloquial conversation.

Colonialism: "Whose perspective are we bringing to bear? Whose story are we telling?”

Elwood acknowledged that Americans tend to be bad about looking outside their own history and that societies with a history of colonizing tend to come up with justifications for why it was okay for them to invade and colonize others. They wanted the show to avoid reinforcing that idea and to not sugarcoat the reality of it.

He mentioned the importance of having Migizi Pensoneau’s voice in the writer’s room. They also made an effort to speak with tribal communities and leaders in the area in order to gain their insight.

Elwood also hit on the effect of the Western film genre (as in cowboy Westerns) in shaping stereotypes about Native Americans and exporting these stereotypes to the rest of the world. Wanted to avoid those stereotypes (bc they’re inaccurate anyway and bc Barkskins takes place in the eastern part of the continent, not the western, and in an earlier time period) and in general to avoid portraying indigenous people as a uniform/interchangeable monoculture.

Marcia highlighted efforts to foreground First Nations characters in front of the camera as well, specifically mentioning Yvon and Mari. She mentioned that Yvon was educated at Harvard and that Mari’s father was French.

Sets and Wardrobe

This was my favorite section because I love this stuff and it was very impressive! Elwood basically gushed about how the production designer (Isabelle Guay), costume designer (Anna Terrazas), and wig maker were invaluable to the show. I tried to record the wig maker’s name, but I was going by ear, and I couldn’t find any search results that seemed right based on the spellings I tried. He was a Montreal area wig maker whose name sounded like (but I am sure is not spelled like) “Ray-jean For-jay.”

Isabelle Guay is local to the area and was in charge of building all the sets. She scouted all the areas personally and paid close attention to period details in construction. Authenticity was very important to Nat Geo; it had to look good and feel real.

Most of the costumes were not existing pieces that the show rented or reused; Anna Terrazas wanted to build as much as possible from scratch herself. She and the other costumers dyed deerskins, found period 17th- and 18th-century fabrics to make garments out of, and even hand built shoes.

Likewise, although it would have been cheaper to get okay-looking wigs premade, the wig maker wanted to make high-quality authentic ones himself. He flew to the actors, measured their heads, bought hair in France, and then constructed all the wigs himself.

Marcia on how the costume informed her character: Anna gave her a leather pouch to hang on a belt around her waist. It was filled with lavender, the idea being that Mathilde kept this lavender close to counter the foul smells of Wobik. Marcia viewed it as a “little secret” to draw on in her acting.

Christian found the costumes surprisingly comfortable/immersive and the landscape very awe-inspiring.

The moodboard for Trepagny’s wardrobe/aesthetic included pictures of Nick Cave and Jimi Hendrix.

Mathilde’s Daughter

Marcia was asked how much of the details about Mathilde’s daughter were of her own invention. She said that everything said on screen about Veronique was straight from the script, but she came up with more herself in order to inform her acting.

Marcia imagines that Veronique probably died from a sickness, perhaps something like whooping cough that to many of us today wouldn’t seem so serious but which would be more fatal in that era.

This is the point at which Elwood blindsided Marcia, me, and everybody else by talking about a scene he had been “obsessed” with a planned scene in which Renardette would go down to a room below the inn and find Veronique’s preserved body hidden down there, covered in her own dresses. Ultimately, Elwood felt that this was “too gothic” and that it wouldn’t work for Mathilde in a season of only 8 episodes, because it would too quickly take the audience’s understanding of her to a very bizarre/dark place.

He defended the idea by saying that it wasn’t uncommon at the time for people to do things like that, i.e. keep a loved one’s remains for a period of time. (I will take your word for it, Elwood. Also, I’m totally ready for you to go full gothic on this show, please follow your weird impulses in the future.) Marcia, though, felt that it wouldn’t make sense for a character as pragmatic as Mathilde. She pointed out that Francis is the one who wants things like refinements, whereas Mathilde is much more practical.

Also, I was today years old when I learned that Lola Reid (Renardette) is showrunner Elwood Reid’s daughter. In my defense, it’s not an uncommon last name.

Christian on Rene

Christian was asked about the physical aspects of playing Rene, such as chopping wood, fighting, swimming, etc., and which were most difficult and which most enjoyable. He said that he loved those aspects; he would get immersed in the physical act so much that he would forget he was acting. He could get very emotional in those intense moments and found it very difficult to come out of those scenes because of how emotionally charged they were (such as when watching character deaths) but also found it very enjoyable in a cathartic way.

Elwood said that he thought Christian had the hardest role because Rene is a stoic person who has to hold the screen with very few words. It was at this point that he talked about all the characters having secrets and something they want but can’t have; he pointed out that Rene is the only character who doesn’t have a secret and whose wants and needs are very simple. This makes his character “like a rock” that other characters try to pick up and bash around but can’t figure out what to do with.

In light of that, Elwood felt that this first season was a slow burn for Rene, but that the future focus of the character’s arc is essentially: What’s the breaking point of a man like that? What will make him crack? What will make him act out of his character?

He said it was also similar for James Bloor (Charles Duquet) because he had to take so much abuse in this first season, with Elwood assuring James that it was building toward a big future payoff.

In conclusion...

Aaand that’s all I’ve got! We are all encouraged to keep talking about the show and to make known our desire for a second season. Thanks for reading, and like I said, let me know if you have anything to add or to correct.

#barkskins #elwood reid #marcia gay harden #christian cooke #david thewlis #mathilde geffard #rene sel #claude trepagny #op #this is RIDDLED with little typos cause i typed very quickly i'll fix them later

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cozywritings · 4 years

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Stitches ch5: Be Alright

It was finally Friday. The one day of the week that you didn’t have classes, so you slept in, your alarm clock read 10:36 when you looked over. Reaching for your phone you noticed a screen full of notifications, mostly from Emily talking about some cute guy in her anatomy class. Until you caught sight of a text you weren’t too surprised to see.

McDreamy: Good morning honey 😊 I’ve got my 4 hour lecture today and then I’m headed off to stay at Brian’s for the night. Meet me before I leave for enough kisses to last the evening?

To McDreamy: I’ll be waiting.

After pressing send, you got up and took a shower, washing off the week and just taking some time to relax before you started studying for the next week of lessons.

You’ve decided that the best thing about your dorm, besides your boyfriend being across the hall, was the fact that you had your own bathroom in your room. You could shower as long as you wanted, play music as you showered, and you didn’t have to worry about if you forgot a towel or your clothes.

As soon as you stepped into the hot water, you let out a sigh. The hot water feeling absolutely amazing, and you knew it would relax your muscles from the first week stress. Although it was gonna be pretty boring this weekend without Shawn there, you needed to catch up on the notes you missed on Monday during proff com. So you knew it was probably best that he wasn’t here.

The longer you were in the shower, the better you felt. Until you realised it was now noon and you had yet to eat. So you shut off the water, wrapped yourself in a towel and walked out to get dressed. All the while thinking about what you wanted from the buffet in the cafeteria next door.

After your lunch of mac and cheese and a sandwich, you found yourself packing up your backpack to move across the hall. Sure you had your own desk, but Shawn’s was so much nicer and his blackout curtains made you less stressed when you were in a deep study.

Walking into Shawn’s room, you looked around at the clothes on the floor and the unmade bed and sighed. So, you dropped your bag on the desk and took a few minutes to tidy up the room for him. When you were satisfied with your work, you kicked off your sneakers and got to work on your notes, taking Shawn’s notebook from the drawer and copying everything you missed from that first day.

It was a lot of important due dates and when the chapters should be read. Honestly, you weren’t missing much, but you still found it important to have them in your notebook to help you remember them.

Around 2:30, you heard the doorknob jiggle, and your smile widened. Half an hour ago you decided to move to the bed to read your chapters and take notes. When Shawn walked in, he was shocked to find you nestled into his bed with your Sociology textbook in your lap. He was quick to drop his backpack and collapse on top of you, pressing a few kisses to your jaw.

“This is a nice surprise.” He smiled against your neck.

“Your room seemed like the better study option.” You shrugged, running your fingers through his curls and scratching at his scalp. When he let out an involuntary moan you giggled, “feels good Bub?” He nodded, wrapping his arms around your waist and rubbing his thumbs along your lower back.

You closed your eyes at the feeling. The two of you laid there in silence for a few minutes before Shawn said, “Maybe I’ll skip Brian’s and stay here to do this instead.”

You let out a soft laugh, “No you’ve gotta go have guy time. You’ve been with me almost every day this week, you need to see your friends.” He shook his head.

“No.” He leaned back to show you the cutest pout you’d ever seen.

“Shawn. Go out and have fun. I’m probably going to just catch up on project runway and maybe go see the movie in the planetarium with Em later tonight.” He gave you a huge smile, glad you were making good of your Friday night, considering every other night this week you were stressing over classes.

“What movie are they showing?” He mumbled, pressing his face into your neck again. Damn, he was making this really hard to tell him to go to Brian’s.

Threading your fingers into his hair and massaging his head you told him about your plans. “It’s called Abduction. It’s a Taylor Lautner movie. I’ve seen it before, but Emily hasn’t seen it yet so I told her I’d see it with her. After that I’ll probably just come back here and do some more reading.”

You felt him nod, curls tickling your neck. “Back to your dorm or mine?

You lightly smacked his shoulder. “Like I’m gonna come sleep in your empty bed. You’re crazy.” He just shrugged.

“I don’t see why not. The D.A’s never check on the upper classmen and it’s not like you’re sleeping with me. You’re just in my bed.” The idea was really nice. The bed smelled like him, and you were pretty sure that his TV was bigger than yours.

Biting your lip, you gave the idea a pretty good thought. “I’ll think about it.” He looked up at you and smiled, leaving a kiss to your chin.

---

“What do you mean you’re probably gonna sleep in his bed alone!” Emily yelled over a mouth full of pizza as the two of you sat in her dorm.

You just smiled at her. “He’s staying at Brian’s tonight and offered me to stay in his room. I thought it was cute.” A blush rising on your cheeks. The longer you thought about it, the more you wanted to.

Emily let out an exaggerated groan. “You two are disgustingly cute. But anyways. Do you want the details on Eric?” Eric was the guy from her class that she felt compelled to text you about during her lecture. “Well he’s super tall, and has these gorgeous blue eyes. He’s obviously a frequent gym goer. Oh! And he’s 21.” It was so cute to watch her fawn over him, because you’re positive that’s what you look like talking about Shawn. “But also, there’s this girl, Ashley, god she’s so fucking cute. But I don’t know if she’s into girls. So I’ll probably never pursue that one.”

You looked at her a bit shocked. “Em, I didn’t know you were bi.” She looked down quickly, her cheeks pink and eyes wide. “No, no babe it’s okay. I don’t care, I just didn’t know. You didn’t mention it to me before.”

She shrugged, giving you a lazy smile. “I just don’t feel like people believe it’s a thing. And it’s not something I just blurt out. ‘Oh yeah, I love both’” you just smiled at her.

“Well I know a girl in my accounting class that’s flawless and she’s gay, if you wanna know about her.” You swore you’d never seen anyone so happy in your life.

The two of you spent almost 3 hours just gossiping until the conversation got serious. “So, um, I was wondering how you were doing after the whole ex thing? Are you feeling any better since then?” She asked softly.

“It’s okay. He’s actually in my speech class, but so is Shawn so I’m pretty safe. He sits right next to me and holds my hand and stuff. Actually, I have a meeting with an on campus mental health counsellor next week. So I’m going to get back on track soon.” Without any warning, Emily leaned over and gave you the biggest hug.

“I’m so fucking proud of you.” She sighed, rubbing you back and playing with the ends of your hair.

---

Now settled back into your own room, you felt like something was missing. Your room was too quiet, even with Netflix playing some show in the background, and your bed seemed a lot colder than the one across the hallway. And it wasn’t because that one had a heated blanket nestled in the sheets.

Looking over at the clock, you smiled, 11:48. So you gathered your things: your charger, notebooks, and a pair of fuzzy socks, and made your way to Shawn’s room

The room was warm and dark, the lamp having been left on from earlier, was the only source of light. Your head was throbbing due to the laughing you’d done with Emily and the lack of actual sleep you’d been getting throughout the week, but knowing Shawn, he had a stash of medications somewhere. So you set down your things on the bed and searched the desk for a medicine drawer. Instead, what you found was a notebook with all the campus mental health counsellors written down. Next to eat name was a note.

-Dr. Moore: nice but not the right expertise

-Dr. Woodell: extremely kind, specializes in PTSD and rape victims

-Dr. Garcia: too harsh- probably not right for her

-Dr. Casey: way too mean, seems very unforgiving of personal issues- wrong specialisation

-Dr. Hendrix: very nice, another rape victim spec., also does depression and anxiety. (Top choice)

-Dr. Evans: see above note, but add that he’s the only male option (maybe not a good choice)

By the time you’d gotten to the bottom of the page, you were crying profusely. He had gone in and done research on the possible therapists you’d be seeing. He took the time to look into each option and make notes. But you couldn’t let him know you’d found it, so you put it back, opening the drawer labeled “meds”. How you didn’t see it before, you have no idea. So you took two Advil and moved back to the bed, turning on the heating blanket and flipping through the movies on Shawn’s amazon prime account.

It was almost 10am when Shawn opened the door to his room, he’d gotten maybe 4 hours of sleep at Brian’s. They spent all night playing video games, having a few drinks, and just talking about life. However, you were on his mind the whole time. He was hoping you were having a good time and wondering if you’d gone back to your own room.

Somewhere in the night, you had curled completely into the sheets, your body being covered by pillows and the huge blue comforter on the bed. So it was no surprise that Shawn didn’t see you when he walked in. Or when he plopped down on the bed. It wasn’t until he went to pull the blanket back that he noticed your small frame enveloped in the flannel blanket that was still radiating head. Instead of waking you, he just kicked off his sneakers and curled around you, a sleepy smile on his face.

The feeling of something other than the blanket around you startled you, and your eyes flew open in panic. That is, until you noticed that sparrow tattoo you loved resting on the bed. “Shawn?” You asked, not sure if he was awake.

“Shhh I’m sleeping.” He mumbled into the back of your neck, causing you to laugh.

“Can you at least let me roll over so I can see my boyfriend?” you smiled, trying you roll onto your other side.

With a groan and a kiss to the top of your head, he backed away slightly, allowing you to roll over and wrap your arms around his neck. “Wasn’t expecting you to take my offer. I’m glad you did though, I like seeing you comfortable in my room. Please stay?? My head hurts and I wanna love on you.” You responded by scratching at his scalp like you did the day before.

Once again, he let out a sigh, eyes closing as he nosed along the column of your throat. When your hand slid a little lower and rubbed the base of his neck he let out a soft moan. “You okay there Bub?” You giggled, your free hand being cradled in Shawn’s.

“Mhm. I’m fantastic.” He smiled, relaxing against your chest. “Just wanna stay like this all day. Didn’t sleep a lot last night.” You nodded, your lips pressing into his curls.

“We don’t have to do anything today. You can stay exactly where you are” he smiled, kissing along your shoulder as he wrapped himself around you.

And so you did. The day was spent right there in Shawn’s bed, cuddling, exchanging words of adoration, and plenty of kisses being shared. You were pretty sure that this was the best was the best thing to happen to you. That Shawn was the best thing to ever happen to you.

When it finally got dark, Shawn decided you two, more specifically you, needed to eat. So he called in Pizza Hut to be delivered to the dorm and, after learning it would be about an hour until the delivery driver got here, he settled on taking a shower, fearful he reeked of beer and whatever smell radiated from Brian’s apartment. “Shawn?” Your voice soft as you spoke. “Yeah babe?” He asked, closing the drawer full of shirts after he chose what he was gping to pt on after he was clean.

“Do you um, maybe want some company in there?” Your cheeks were a violent crimson when Shawn stuttered.

“A-are you sure?? That totally isn’t the reason I asked you to stay. You don’t have to do something you aren’t completely comfortable with. I mean- I’d love for you to, but you don’t have to if you’re not ready for something that intimate.” With a soft nod, you started to unbutton your shirt. “Okay baby, okay. If this is what you want to do we can definitely do that. But let’s get into the bathroom and let me do this right. Okay?” You smiled, following him into the bathroom. He really was trying to make you as comfortable as possible.

With the shower water running, and the room filling up with steam, shawn kicked off his sweats, leaving him in his black boxers. Then he turned his attention to you, his fingers slowly unbuttoning your top for you. But his eyes stayed on your face, watching for any sign of panic. “Shawn, it’s okay. Really. I trust you, and I know you’ll be careful. I wouldn’t have asked to join you if I thought I was going to be uncomfortable” With that, he tugged the shirt off your shoulders, eyes following the fabric as it fell to the floor.

You took it upon yourself to shimmy out of your shorts and panties the same time Shawn rid himself of his boxers. So there you stood. Fully naked in front of the only other person who’s had the privilege of seeing you this way. “You look, so beautiful. I didn’t know you had a tattoo.” He smiled, staring at the flower on your hip.

“It was a congratulatory gift from a close friend. She took me to get it after my acceptance letter came it. I have a second one.” You stated, twisting your hips for him to see the black cat sitting on a crescent moon on the other side. “That one I got in an impulse, a Friday the 13th special.”

“I like them.” He mumbled, watching as you grabbed his hand and ran his fingers over the now healed skin. This was the first time he’s touched your naked body, and to be perfectly honest, he wanted to take you right then and there. But he knew his limits, and this right here was a huge deal for you. So he stepped forward and wrapped his arm around you. “I promise I’ll take such good care of you.”

The water felt amazing on your skin, it was the perfect temperature. Shawn stepped in behind you, blocking the water stream as he washed his curls. You had to admit, you’d seen Shawn shirtless before, but seeing him with soap running down his body was something different. You let your eyes travel a little lower, looking down at him. All of him. He looked bigger than Josh, and that worried you a little. But now wasn’t the time.

“Can I wash your hair?” He asked with his arm outstretched, a puddle of shampoo in his palm. “I’d really like that. Yeah.” You smiled, turning around and pressing your back against his chest, sighing at the feeling of his fingers massaging your scalp, occasionally rubbing out the knots in your neck, causing you to lean your head forward as the release of tension.

You let out a sigh at the feeling. “Babe, why are you so tense?” He asked after a few minutes of comfortable silence as the water rinsed out your hair.

You shrugged, “I’m not sure really. Maybe just all the stuff that happened this week. And I have the worlds worst posture when I sit, so I’m sure that doesn’t help.” You laughed, taking your fingers through your conditioner soaked hair.

“Do you mind?” He asked, placing his soap covered hands on your shoulders. You shook your head, curious as to what he was asking to do. You had to clamp down on your lower lip to stop yourself from straight up mewling at the feeling when he dug his fingers into your neck, his thumbs sliding along your upper back easily due to the soap.

“What the actual fuck did you just do?” You asked after you were able to speak again.

His thumbs still running along your shoulder blades, he simply responded, “Pressure points to relive tension. You should probably do that at least once a week if you want to stay out of any back pain in the future.” You noddd, keeping that in the back of your brain as he pressed a kiss to your neck. “Or you can come to me and I can do it for you. Ya know, to make sure it’s done right.”

You laughed, turning around to leave a kiss on his chest. Shawn was quick to wrap his arms around you and lift you up, looking at you for a sign to not do what he was about to do. Instead, you leaned in, wrapping your legs around his waist and stealing the first kiss.

Now dried off and in your “cute” pj’s, you sat on the bed stuffing your face with pizza while The Breakfast Club played softly on the tv. Shawn sat across from you, doing some reading on “nerves and the brain” or whatever the book was about. “Shawn?” He looked up, a grin plastered on his face. “Last night I was looking for some Advil for my headache and I accidentally came across a notebook.” Suddenly very nervous, you looked down at your nails. “And I saw that you did some research on the therapists on campus.”

His face paled. “Fuck. You um- you weren’t supposed to see that.” When he looked over at you, your smile calmed him down.

“I’m not mad Shawn. Actually it’s really sweet.” He reached over, closing the book to pull you into his lap.

“I just know that you wanted to see someone for a while and I wanted to make sure you were getting the best one. So I told them I was doing a paper on how they treated their patients and then I was gonna decide which one they should get you.”

You didn’t say anything. Just pressed a few lingering kisses on his jaw. “Thank you. It really means a lot to me. And thank you for everything you’ve done so far. I’ve never felt so loved and safe in my life.”

“Darling. You are loved and safe.”

#shawn mendes #shawn peter raul mendes #Shawn writing #shawn fluff #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn fanfic #shawn smut #shawn mendes au #shawn mendes smut #shawn mendes writing #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes fic #my fic #stitches #med student shawn #college shawn

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tinayoufatlarrdd · 5 years

Text

She

Frankly, they didn’t start on the best term.

He met Y/N during a photoshoot for a certain famous magazine. She was assigned to grace the cover of said magazine with the photograph of the world’s most it couple, Harry Styles and the supermodel who gained the universal acclaim for ‘taming the baby Mick Jagger’.

It was all fun and pretty until Y/N accidentally stepped on the girlfriend’s polished toes.

“For fuck’s sake!” Harry screamed at Y/N as the supermodel girlfriend suddenly started limping her way to Harry, asking for some sort of first aid.

Y/N couldn’t stop muttering sorry, offering ice blocks, even kneeling next to the supermodel girlfriend begging for forgiveness. The creative director, the crew, the editors—the whole studio apologized countless times for the tiny slip as the girlfriend pouted, complaining about the unbearable pain, causing Harry to hit the ceiling.

He yelled at Y/N and refused to go on. Y/N, knowing her inferior position in the equation, could only look down as the apologies continuously rolled out of her tongue. To be fair, everyone in the studio (except the lovebirds, obviously) knew it wasn’t that big of a deal.

Y/N was capturing Harry’s solo session while the girlfriend fixed the hair and makeup. She was up next for her solo session and then it’s a wrap. Of course the photographer would move around; every supermodel should be aware of the fact that angles were plenty and it took treads to actually find the right ones. Y/N was constantly moving, camera on hand, eyes on the viewfinder, then suddenly the ‘big accident’ occurred.

Y/N was barefooted, she wouldn’t even be able to squeeze a hard turd if she ever stepped on one with that wonky heel of hers. There was no way she’d had caused the girlfriend that much pain. And nobody blamed Y/N as they all witnessed how the girlfriend walked on set with her eyes on the phone, hitting Y/N first. Nobody but the girlfriend and Harry Styles, of course. So they all just watched in silence as Harry cursed and threw a fit on innocent Y/N.

The power couple didn’t want to continue unless Y/N was replaced. The crew had to comply no matter how irrational the demand sounded. And on top of that, suddenly Y/N was plastered on the internet as the girl who assaulted the world’s biggest supermodel and Harry Styles.

She would never forget the overwhelming uneasiness caused by the sudden rave of negative reviews about her, all from people who endorsed and supported her in the first place but decided to be the footnote of the Hollywood sweethearts’ testimony: ‘awful to work with’, ‘nothing without the connection’, ‘a mediocre photographer who got lucky’, and ‘talentless’.

And she still couldn’t wrap her mind around that dreaded event. She had heard tremendous chivalry and gentlemanlike attitude when it came to Harry Styles yet somehow, he was nothing but a certified dick who put her job on the line that day. Some friends who remained loyal to her speculated that the girlfriend was the bad influence. Some even were convinced that he was voodooed. She didn’t care about either, all she believed was that he’s an absolute wretch with an extraordinarily thick mask. A media trained monkey was the term she occasionally used after a few tequila shots.

“That witch is his Yoko Ono, I tell ya,” the creative director told her during their final meeting—the meeting to let her go, of course.

She just shrugged. All she wanted was her old life back. And if Harry Styles and/or that supermodel got into some terrible misery in that comeback, that would definitely be her cherry on top.

She still got a few gigs, just not as much and definitely not with big profiles like she used to. For Pete’s sake, she was deemed a promising photographer by those fashion executives! She was only getting started. She would have never imagined that with just a short answer during a talk show’s truth or dare game—who’s the one person you’d never want to work with ever again?—the power couple could diminish her entire life’s worth of hard work.

Within the next few months, she’s back to square one. Every morning she tried to contact some old clients who would perhaps still deign to be affiliated with, according to the world’s biggest supermodel’s words on that talk show, ‘the rudest effin’ bitch I’ve ever seen in the industry’.

And after countless unsuccessful attempts, she went back to the cafe she used to work at when she’s still starting her career, not to network like she used to but to pour some coffee for other people again. She’s back with the apron and the napkin and she couldn’t stop being cynical over some hopeful youngsters who got signed right in front of her eyes, on the table she just wiped.

Her cameras were laid unused on top of her rack and the mini darkroom she built in her apartment became a storage room. Believing she had failed miserably in life, she found herself no longer had hopes on anything. All she knew was to get by the day.

It was a cold December night. Everyone else went home to celebrate the holidays so she decided to do the shift. She’d be paid double plus she wouldn’t have to face her family, which would go eerie in this state of her life, so it was the better choice.

Having had just finished cleaning the whole cafe, she put on her coat. She was ready to come home to… nothing. Her mind raced back to this time last year, where she was fully booked and couldn’t wait to come home so she could recharge herself for an exciting tomorrow. Her life had become exceptionally dull and it was painful to go on.

An abrupt banging on the door halted her train of desperate thoughts.

“We’re closed. Can’t you see the time?! It’s almost midnight!” she snarked, back facing the intruder.

“S- Sorry, love…” the hoarse voice was paused with a couple of hiccups. “‘m just completely devastated…”

She rolled her eyes as she turned around and she almost had a heart attack. There stood the man who destroyed her life, terribly wasted out of his mind. He could barely stand straight without holding onto the doorknob.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” she rolled her eyes, asking some deity entity if there was ever one.

“Hey! I know yeh…” Harry tried to get to her but his legs just gave up.

Falling face first, Y/N really wanted to leave him on the street. But of course she had that little voice of reason inside her that constantly screamed, “If you abandon him, you’re nothing better than him!” She was a decent person and she really hated it this time.

“Come on up,” she pulled Harry up and lingered his arm around her shoulder to help him walk. “Where do you live?”

“I don’t k- know,” he giggled. “I can’t remember, love…”

“Try,” she slapped his arm when he almost fell off yet again.

The snow was pouring down and they stood by the empty crossroad. Harry wouldn’t even remember his own name by now and she didn’t know how to get to his house. There was no other choice than to bring him home to her place.

It was nothing short of hard work to carry a man twice her size to her house on foot since there was not even a single cab around. It was even harder to hear him tell a story about his first imaginary friend during that wobbly trip where he tumbled more than five times and she had to pick him up every time. But it was the hardest when she had to take off his shoes so it wouldn’t mess with her couch—he didn’t want to take it off, nagging her with numerous ‘Go away, Mum!’s.

When she finally got to lay on her bed, she was too tired to even think of what just happened. She literally did some cardio workout bringing Harry home safe so unlike her usual nights, she fell asleep quite fast this time.

It was around four in the morning when she felt a body of weight sunk into her side. She turned around to face his uninvited guest sound asleep, legs tangled over hers like a knot. She quietly removed her legs and tried to get up. She needed to move to the couch, or anywhere far away from this invader.

This is my fucking house, why am I the one sleeping outside, she thought to herself. Anger boiling at the top of her head as her movement was stopped by his strong hand.

“Stay here…” he slurs.

He didn’t seem conscious to her. Maybe he mistook her as his girlfriend.

“I’m not—“

“I know,” he cut her off while still sleeping. “Just stay here for a while. It’s cold out there.”

She sighed and laid back down. Stiff and uncomfortable, but obviously exhausted, she closed her eyes as Harry’s arm pulled her closer to him. She could only hope the night would soon end or better yet, this was all not real.

When Harry woke up, he found a sticky note on his forehead.

‘You were hammered last night, didn’t know where you live so I took you home. Nothing happened, you just sorta burst into where I work around midnight so I kind of had to not abandon you. Don’t make yourself at home because this is my home.’

He couldn’t remember anything. He remembered getting blind drunk after gulping those spirit shots but what happened after that was redacted. His surrounding was unfamiliar and there was no other sign of life other than him that morning.

After splashing his face with cold water, he looked around the apartment. It was modest but very personal. There were random film rolls hung by the ceiling as Harry made his way to the living room. He put on his shoes by the couch as he observed the vinyl shelf at the corner of the room. It was filled with 60s-70s biggest musicians, from Jimi Hendrix to Van Morrison—which grew his curiosity of the owner. There were books that he also read, and the series of psychedelic photographs framed by the doorway was the biggest tic that made him wonder: how did he end up in this hippie’s safe haven, one that he actually wanted to live in when he was young? Did he get so hammered that he traveled back in time? His head hurt too bad to even think of the possibilities, all he knew was there was something about the owner that felt familiar and he ought to know them. He had to.

Harry rushed to shower at his home and got some aspirin. After running some overdue errands, he immediately went back to the apartment. He knocked on the door a few times to no avail so he decided to wait by his car outside.

Y/N was relieved when there was no sign of Harry when she got home that night. She would be lying if she wasn’t a tad bit worried of him considering he could absolutely die that night if he went to the wrong place, but then again he was the guy who ended her career so she couldn’t care less.

She picked Nick Drake’s Pink Moon from her vinyl collection and put it on the turntable. Relaxing by the couch that still reeked of alcohol and him, she ignored the constant knock on the door. It was usually her crazy neighbor looking for his nonexistent cat.

It was the sixth track that she finally got up and opened the door, hoping to end the annoyance of her peaceful evening.

Her eyes bugged out when she saw the figure by her door. It was him again.

Harry, with his furrowed eyebrows and lanky feet, looked just as surprised as she was. He clearly remembered who she was and somehow, not even Nick Drake’s soothing voice could calm her down. Filled with rage, she slammed the door right in front of his face.

Harry was shocked to see her. He’d never thought in a million years that he’d ever meet her again, moreover lodged by her. He wanted to thank her but he knew she’d probably throw a glass of water to his face. But he could not just leave.

So he did the tackiest trick in the book. When the track from behind the closed door hit Free Ride, one of his favourites, he began singing along as loud as possible. Some neighbors shushed him, some even scolded him but he didn’t stop.

She heard him loud and clear. She ignored him at first, but then she received a noise complaint call from the super. Upset, she thumped her way towards the door.

“Stop it!” she gritted her teeth as she opened it.

He stopped. “May I come in?”

“What do you want?” she barked.

“Just wanted to say thanks,” he muttered low.

“You’re welcome. There,” she slammed the door again.

There was nothing he could do so he decided to leave for now.

He came again the next day, this time saying there was something he needed to give back to her.

“What now?” she wasn’t as upset as the day before, but was still unfriendly as they just stood by the door leaf.

Harry handed her the sticky note she left on his forehead the day before.

“You can keep it,” she said as she closed the door.

No slamming door. A progress, Harry thought.

He came back again two days after that, carrying a limited release Fleetwood Mac record signed by Stevie Nicks herself.

“Got Stevie to sign it. They don’t have this at the stores anymore,” he presented it as if he was doing some product placement scene.

“Look, Harry Styles,” she crossed her arms. “I don’t even know what the hell do you want from me but I really don’t want to have anything to do with you anymore. You’ve done enough.”

“Yes, about that…” Harry scratched his forehead. “’m sorry.”

“Whatever,” she pushed the door but Harry was quick to hold it open.

“I’d help you make things right again,” his green eyes were desperate for her answer.

She let out a heavy sigh and moved aside as if cuing him to enter her little bubble. Harry entered immediately, not wanting to waste any more time in the outside world.

She was listening to Neil Young’s Harvest Moon, to which Harry sang along gently. She could hate him all she wanted but he really sounded divine especially within close proximity.

“Shouldn’t you be somewhere else, anyway?” she sat on the far end of the couch.

He put the record on the coffee table. “Where, exactly?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “Some talk show to say some shit about me with the girlfriend perhaps?”

“Look ‘m really sorry, I truly am,” he sighed. “And ‘m not with her anymore…”

He then explained everything. How he fell in love for the first time in his life with the supermodel who was perfect, beautiful, smart, and everything he’d ever dreamed of. How he was so sure of her but she didn’t feel the same so he tried to show it with everything he’s got—grand romantic gestures, going public (which was personally hard for him since he was a very private person), and siding with her on every kind of problem even if it meant hauling over an innocent photographer’s coals. He also explained how he felt awful most of the time since he’d changed so much for a person who didn’t even love him back and he began to feel lost. It all then culminated a couple nights ago when she decided that it was all still not enough and broke up with him over a phone call. That’s when he went crazy with the liquor and ended up wandering around.

She felt sorry for him and although she knew he could be lying, she could understand his pain. So, she decided to accept his apology. She knew it wouldn’t change anything for her but at least she wouldn’t have to carry around so much hatred in her life and he could also move on with his life, not haunted by the guilt.

He promised to help her gain her reputation back. The two planned to make some exclusive photoshoot of Harry himself.

They began meeting every now and then. At first, they would talk about all things professional and did photoshoots. She started receiving positive feedbacks especially after Harry gave her the shoutouts—it didn’t take a split second for his loyal fans to swarm her online profiles. With her raising popularity she started getting bigger gigs again, even bigger than her old gigs. She quit working at the cafe and her darkroom was occupied yet again.

Then, they would spend even more time together. He would make up excuses to meet with her, like he needed to see how she developed her rolls or coming by with a batch of eggs saying he was worried she ran out of eggs. Y/N knew Harry was just feeling lonely after the breakup so she always let him in. Nobody wants to hurt alone, she always thought.

He soon didn’t need any more excuses as he had become an extended roommate of hers. He always said he wanted to live in the 70s and her apartment was like a dream home for him. She just brushed it off, saying it’s because of her hidden interior designing talent. And with each passing day, as they grew closer, her hatred dissipated and was replaced with something strange yet pleasant inside her heart.

She learned the depths of him that no one else knew and it all became the little things only she understood. She felt privileged to gain the limited access.

Sometimes he’d show her the sneak peak of his newest song and she would give notes as she watered the many plants around her place. Sometimes they would play board games while discussing the possibility of living on Mars. Some other times, Harry would lay his head on her legs, not saying a word while Karen Dalton’s magnificent voice filled the air.

Her favourite moment with him had to be when they did the impromptu picnic under the stars. With a bottle of cheap wine, portable turntable, and shared blanket, they laid by the garden as they talked about their fears and desires. That was the first time in such a long time she could open up to someone and he said that made him feel so special.

Of course he was special to her. That’s why she still tiptoed around him from time to time, avoiding conversations like her love life because she didn’t want him to think that she’d like him when actually the growing feelings inside her heart had begun to suffocate her.

The way he spontaneously baked for her (and snobbishly told the infamous ‘I was a baker’ story), the way he laughed at her jokes, the way his eyes sparked when they were dancing around, the way he snored a little when he’s sleeping, the way he called her name—she wanted to just sink herself into his warmth and never let go.

Yet she couldn’t help but wonder whether he felt the same way too. The frequency of the supermodel’s name mentioned in their conversations has since reduced to almost never, but she still felt a sting in her heart as she knew she could never replace her. She was, after all, his first love. And don’t get her started on the physical prowess which she obviously lacked in compared to the supermodel. She didn’t dare to ask Harry whether he’s really forgotten about her, afraid that he’d find out her true feelings for him. So she remained the same. At least, he would be still by her side.

At least, there would never be any rejections.

The city was already blossoming when she realized that Harry had left traces of himself on every corner of her place. The hung film rolls were filled with his silly expressions, so was the polaroid collections stuck on her walls. He had installed a pile of pants by the corner of her living room so that he didn’t have to bring any change. And of course her bathroom now had a pair of tooth brushes. It rocketed her hopes but still, her doubts crept inside her mind every so often.

That lazy Saturday night, she went home from grocery shopping to find Harry asleep on her couch. He looked so soft and warm and she couldn’t help but to run her fingers through his smooth hair. She nervously came closer to his face and pressed a tender kiss on his forehead.

She got up immediately, afraid to wake him up. To her surprise, he suddenly grabbed her arm.

“What was that for, love?” he asked.

He didn’t even have the bed face he usually had, which led her to believe that he wasn’t really asleep.

“Were you pretending to be asleep?” she pulled away.

Harry stood up just as fast and within seconds, he wrapped her in his hug. He placed a kiss on top of her head and slowly traveled down to her forehead, her nose, her cheeks. His lips roamed over hers as he slowly pressed them. It wasn’t heated and full of lust but rather deep and passionate as if he was taking his time.

It didn’t take long before they made their way to the bedroom and undressed each other with no rush. There was no spoken words, no roughness, just two people tangled up in heated infatuation.

When she woke up, he was still there. And it was beautiful.

It was still beautiful the next few months when they became a couple. He was her world and everything else was just background noise. He made her feel like the only person that mattered, as if everything that happened before ‘them’ was unreal. That this was the only real thing and it was all too good to be true.

Y/N should know better though, that life came just like a full circle. She just didn’t expect to actually be put back into the circle so soon.

They were invited to an afterparty of a fashion line Harry was strongly tied to and Y/N was more than proud to be by his side when he was introduced to be the muse that season. He was having the time of his life and so was she. The two held hands the entire time as they talked to everyone.

The belle of the ball, Harry himself seemed overwhelmed with the amount of love he received. He occasionally pressed her hand a little tighter when he was nervous, to which she’d respond with stroking his hand with her thumb. The simplest gestures that they’d developed overtime as they grew accustomed to each other’s idiosyncrasies or as Harry said, the good stuff about you.

That was until he saw a glimpse of her in the middle of the crowd that he suddenly let go of Y/N’s hand as if he was afraid that she would see him with Y/N. It would have been a little over a year since she last saw the supermodel and almost a year since Harry last met her.

All this time, Harry constantly convinced her that her insecurities over his love was nothing, that he only wanted her. And yet, he never even said those three words to her.

She knew now why he never did.

All this time, it wasn’t doubt that kept haunting her. It was a hunch.

The music was blasting but for Y/N, everything was silence. It only took a few seconds before she realized the look in Harry’s eyes. As if it was never truly her his eyes set on. That she was just a company to pass time. That she was the one he wanted just never loved.

She was never the one.

She tried to grab his hand before he’d be gone for good, and could only let out a faint ‘Please, don’t.’

But he could only mutter a little ‘Sorry.’ as he let go of her grasp and made his way through the crowd, trying to get to her, while leaving Y/N drowning in the sea of human who celebrated the man that she loved.

Part two.

Part three.

#harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles angst #tinayoufatlarrdd #harry styles fanfic

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