#or if you really want to you can imagine flock likes Jean and call it: | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

octaviasdread · 3 years

Note

any girls! dark academia movie recs? i really struggle to find anything not about a group of boys (as much as I love them)

SO MANY!!! This is probably a far more detailed answer than you were expecting but this is a popular question and I want to keep a list for myself and others.

Feel free to add to it/give opinions. I've tried to give a tw for anything I can remember

Girls! Dark Academia Movies/TV Shows

Mona Lisa Smile (2003)

1950s Women’s college

Art professor! Julia Roberts

She’s legit the female Mr Keating of the art & college world

Feminism vs. Tradition

Maggie Gyllenhall x Ginnifer Goodwin; their characters were more than friends. Fight me.

Does not end how you expect

Strike!/All I Wanna Do/The Hairy Bird (1998)

MY FAVOURITE!!!

Free on YouTube under one of its various names

Comedy

1960s all girls boarding school

Young Kirsten Dunst

Group of girls plot to sabotage a merger with a boys school less prestigious than their own

Secret attic clubhouse meetings of the D.A.R aka Daughters of the American Ravioli (eaten cold, ew)

girls get political & advocate for their rights using ANY elaborate and chaotic scheme

TW: eating disorder, vomiting & creepy male teacher but the girls plot against him too

The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie (1969)

based on a short book I read for uni by Muriel Spark

1930s girls school in Edinburgh

Scottish teacher! Maggie Smith, controversial with a focus on romantic ideals

Spoiler alert, the liberal teacher is actually a fascist

Her group of fave students has cult- vibes and it’s fascinating

Picnic at Hanging Rock

1970s movie or 2018 mini series

Never watched either but I plan to

Wild Child (2008)

00s romcom every UK teen girl loves

Emma Roberts as the spoiled rich American teenager sent to a strict English boarding school

Plots to get herself expelled but oh no she’s making friends with the girls who help her

And the headmistress has a hot son, and he’s nice??? Double oh no

ICONIC SCENES

Everything! Goes! Wrong!

omg she burns the school down

Feel good, comfort, nostalgia

St Trinians (2007)

English girls boarding school

The kids are all criminals, no joke

So are the teachers

CHAOTIC

gay awakening for british girls

Art heist pulled off by school girls

Government tries to shut them down but oh no, the education minister & the headmistress are ex-lovers

Colin Firth x Rupert Everett in drag

Superior cast: Jodie Whittaker, Gemma Arterton, Juno Temple, Stephen Fry, Colin Firth, etc...

embodies the phrase 'problematic fave'

St Trinians 2: The Legend of Fritton’s Gold (2009)

Mystery, pirate ancestors, hidden treasure

omg Shakespeare was a woman

girls disguised as boys to infiltrate and rob the posh boys school

Villain! David Tennant in that ICONIC boat scene

Teen girls vs. ancient misogynist brotherhood

like the first film but MORE chaotic and BETTER!???

The Falling (2014)

1960s all girls school

best friends! but its unrequited love

Agoraphobic + distant mother aka mommy issues

Sudden death and the school suppresses/ignores the students grief, sparking mass hysteria & a fainting epidemic in the girls

Cast: Maisie Williams (GoT) & Florence Pugh (Little Women) & Joe Cole (Peaky Blinders)

TW: teen pregnancy, death, vomiting, underage s*x, sibling inc*st, past s*xual assault

READ THE PLOT SUMMARY FIRST

The Book Thief (2013)

Based on an amazing book by Markus Zusak

set in 1940s Nazi Germany

Daughter of a communist whose family were taken by the Nazis/died is fostered by an older couple who teach her to read & she paints a dictionary on the basement walls

Coming of age story about a compulsive book thief. No joke, this kid steals books from banned book burnings and breaks into the mayor's library through the window

Family hides the Jewish son of an old friend in their basement and he helps her to start writing about her experiences in the war

TW: death, bombings, WW2 anti-semitism

Mary Shelley (2017)

Overall good & roughly biographical

Pretty costumes and aesthetic

Modern feminist take on Mary Shelly in her own time period

So many INACCURACIES for the drama so don’t take it as truth

Percy Shelley slander and not all of it is justified

Cast: Elle Fanning, Douglas Booth, and Maisie Williams

The Secret Garden (1993)

Based on a fave childhood book

1901 colonial India & Yorkshire, England

Orphaned, spoilt & neglected girl sent to live with her reclusive Uncle in the English countryside

Gothic elements, mysteries, secret doors/passages/locked gardens

local boy with a flock of animals, magic, kids chanting around a fire and all around immaculate vibes

Happy ending!!!

Hidden Figures (2016)

African-American women as mathematicians for NASA

1960s space project

Women balancing a career and family obligations

Deals with racial & gender discrimination

Loosely based on the lives of Katherine Johnson, Mary Jackson, and Dorothy Vaughan who worked for NASA as engineers & mathematicians

Anne of Green Gables (1985) & sequel (1987)

Adaptation L.M. Montgomery’s ‘Anne of Green Gables’ books

Canada (late 1890s/early 1900s)

Highly imaginative & bookworm orphan is adopted by a reclusive elderly brother and sister duo

Small town & school years comedic drama

Unrequited Enemies -> Friends -> lovers

Inspiring new woman teacher

Girls re-enact Tennyson’s poem and nearly drown for the aesthetic™

Dramatic poetry reading with INTENSE 👀eye contact👀

Writer! Anne & English teacher! Anne dealing with unruly girls school antics

Collette (2018)

biographical drama on french writer Sidonie-Gabrielle Collette

Victorian & Edwardian era France

More talented than her husband so she ghostwrites for him

Fight for creative ownership of her wildly successful novels

Affairs with a woman called Georgie and also with Missy, born female but masculine presenting

Cast: Keira Knightly, Dominic West, Eleanor Tomlinson (Poldark)

Enola Holmes (2020)

Netflix book adaptation

Younger sister of Sherlock Holmes

Victorian era! feminism/suffragettes

Mother-daughter focus

Mystery, adventure, secret codes, teens running away & escaping from (and eventually fighting) assassins

Cast: Helena Bonham Carter, Henry Cavill, Sam Claflin, Fiona Shaw, Millie Bobby Brown

Ginger & Rosa (2012)

1960s England

best friends since literal birth navigating troubled teen years

poet & anti-nuclear activist! Ginger

off the rails but also catholic! Rosa

Shout out to Mark & Mark the gay godfathers we all want

family troubles

TW: older man has an affair with a 17 yr old

Testament of Youth (2014)

based on WW1 memoir by Vera Brittain

young woman (writer & poetry lover) escapes traditional family & goes to study at Oxford University

abandons to become a war nurse

romance, tragedy and war trauma

Cast: Alicia Vikander, Kit Harrington (GoT), Taron Edgerton (Rocketman), Colin Morgan (Merlin)

Little Women (2019)

Writer! Jo & Artist! Amy

Mother/daughter focus and sister dynamics

the March sisters’ theatre club is *chefs kiss*

champagne problems edits of Jo x Laurie are a mood

Ambivalent ending perfectly captures Louisa May Alcott’s dilemma with the book the movie is based on

set in 1860s America

ALL STAR CAST and a Greta Gerwig masterpeice

Lady Bird (2017)

coming of age in early 2002/2003 Sacramento, California

all girls catholic school

writer! Christine aka Lady Bird wants to get outta town and start her life again at college 'in a city with culture'

Mother/daughter dynamics - so realistic!

I live for that Jesus car stunt & the nun's reaction

school theatre program

Cast: Saoirse Ronan, Timothee Chalamet, Beanie Feldstein

Another Greta Gerwig gem

Beguiled (2017)

Virginia, civil war era

Girls school with only five students and two teachers left

Find an injured Union army soldier & bring him inside

Women & teenagers want his attention (v. problematic) before uniting against him

(tbh you'll either love it, hate it, or watch once & forget it)

Sofia Coppola film so its very feminine gaze

TW: violence, death, underage

Legally Blonde (2001)

No questions will be taken

Elle Woods was the blue print

TV series:

House of Anubis (2011-2013)

I know it’s a kids/young teen show but I still unironically love it

ANCIENT EGYPT!!!!

Modern day with Victorian era links to treasure hunters & Egyptian research expeditions (stealing from tombs)

Chosen one plot lines, curses, kidnapping, mysteries, secret tunnels under the school, elixir of life

Teens have investigate & protect themselves cus oh no the TEACHERS are involved in some shady stuff

new American kid at British boarding school is the actual premise not just a fanfic au

Nostalgic, light-hearted, funny, and kinda cheesy but I will accept no criticism

The Alienist (2018 -now)

Mid 1890s, New York

Woman’s private detective agency (Season 2)

Serial killer mystery

Woman secretary turns detective and teams up with a criminal psychiatrist and a newspaper editor to solve crime

TW: violence, child pr*stit*tion

Cast: Dakota Fanning, Luke Evans, Daniel Bruhl

The Queen’s Gambit (2020)

Woman chess prodigy

1950s & 1960s

TW: drug & alcohol abuse

Gentleman Jack (2019 - now)

Based on the diaries of Anne Lister

Victorian Yorkshire, England

Upper-class lesbians

Confident, suit wearing! Anne Lister x shy! Ann Walker

Business woman! Anne running the family mines

Cast: Suranne Jones (Doctor Foster) & Sophie Rundle (Peaky Blinders)

TW: violence

Gilmore Girls (2000-2007)

bubbly/ambitious single mom + intelligent daughter

bookworm! Rory Gilmore gets into a prestigious private school and then an Ivy League college

Small town drama is comedic gold

Fast dialogue packed with pop culture and literary references

Comforting & nostalgic

TEAM JESS

Anne with an E (2017-2019)

Loose adaptation of L.M. Montgomery’s ‘Anne of Green Gables’ books

they completely change the plot lines but it’s still very good content!

Orphan girl with trauma and a love of books/poetry is adopted by an elderly brother & sister duo, bringing light and fresh ideas to a rural community

Feminism, girls writing club, lgbtq safe spaces, girls eduction, black/indigenous representation

Miss Stacy as THAT inspiring teacher

Aunt Josephine’s lavish gay parties have my heart

TW: creepy male teacher tries to marry a student, racial discrimination, indigenous assimilation school

Victoria (2016-2019)

Adaption of Queen Victoria’s life

Victoria navigating her political, royal, and personal life

Albert’s involvement with The Great Exhibition, 1851 (on cultural + industrial innovations)

Alfred Paget x Edward Drummond is exquisite

Gorgeous costumes and aesthetics

TW: bury your gays trope

Derry Girls (2018-now)

1990s Northern Ireland during the troubles

Comedy, episodes 20-25 mins long

English boy sent to an all girls Catholic school with his cousin

✨Dead Poets Society parody episode ✨with a free-spirited female teacher

Sister Michael, the sarcastic nun who hates her job & reads the exorcist for giggles

Wee anxious lesbian! Clare Devlin (plus her friends wearing rainbow pins)

Badass with bad ideas! Michelle Mallon

Main Character! Erin Quinn

Lovable weirdo who would fight a polar bear! Orla McCool

Wee English fella & honorary Derry girl! James Maguire

Dickinson (2019-now)

Loose adaption of the poet Emily Dickinson’s life

Set in 19th century Massachusetts, US

Historical drama with modern dialogue & music that works SEAMLESSLY

gives a great understanding of Emily Dickinson’s poems

💕Vintage gays! Emily x Sue💕

Theatre club, writing, poetry, dressing as men to sneak into lectures, love letters, teen drama, feminism, and an underground abolitionist journal as a brief side plot in season 2

Wiz Khalifa plays death in a horse drawn carriage

TW: opium use

A Series of Unfortunate Events (2017-2019)

Based on great childhood books

Bookworm! brother, Inventor! sister, and baby sister with sharp teeth

Mystery, secret organisations, orphaned siblings figuring things out & fending for themselves against the villain after their fortune

Adults either cartoon evil, comedically incompetent, or SPIES

Boarding school, library owner, scientific researcher, and theatre episodes

Ambiguous time period which is really fun to try and pin point

Killing Eve (2018-now)

Classic detective who has homoerotic tension with the assassin she is tracking down

British Detective! Eve Polastri figures out the notorious assassin MI5 are investigating is a woman, is fired & then put on a secret MI6 case with a small team

Assassin! Villanelle, a psychopath with a tragic past and a mastery of both accents & fashion

Woman MI6 boss! Carolyn Martens, head of Russian section

Travel Europe following Villanelle’s killings and escaping the assassins sent by Villanelle’s organisation

‘You’re supposed to be my enemy and moral opposite but omg you’re the only one smart enough to get me and why am I obsessed with you????'

🚨 GO IN FOR A KISS AND THEN STAB YOUR ENEMY 🚨

Cable Girls/Las chicas del cable (2017-2020)

Spanish drama set in 1920s Madrid

Four young women at a telecommunications company form a group of friends and help navigate the difficult situations they are all in

Secret identities, dangerous pasts, murder, crime, lgbtq couple & throuple, trans man character, feminism/suffragists

girls commit crimes for humanitarian reasons and cover! it! up!

UNDERRATED SHOW!!!!

Gorgeous costumes and set

Haven’t finished it yet and I’m catching up

TW: abuse, violence, death

Outlander (2014 - now)

haven’t watched yet but plan to

Woman time travels to Scotland, 1743

Rebel highlanders, pirates, British colonies, American revolutionary war

Time jumps between 18th & 20th century

#CO posts #answered asks #asks #dark academia girls #dark academia recommendations #dark academia recs #dark academia women #dark academia movies #dark academia tv

1K notes · View notes

fruitcoops · 3 years

Note

Hi!! I was wondering if you could do another fic involving jules and coops together? Just like sweet moments between the three? I loved the baby sitting series you did and could not stop thinking about it❤️❤️ Thank you!!

Yeah, of course! I love writing my boy at any opportunity. SW credit goes to @lumosinlove, but the relatives are my ocs!

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Sirius asked under his breath as Remus finally—finally—appeared from the mass of people.

“It’s fine,” Remus said around a forced smile to a middle-aged man across the yard.

Sirius hid his mouth by pretending to look down at the nearest casserole dish. He didn’t even know what was in it; nobody had bothered with labels, and everyone’s dishes were the same basic florals in different colors. “I love you, Re, and I totally get the whole ‘meet the parents’ thing, but this is a bit much if I’m being honest.”

“Honey.” Remus’ shoulder pressed against his own. “I’m sorry you’re not having a good time, but my Aunt Jen would skin me alive if I didn’t bring the man I’m marrying to the family reunion. We can leave tomorrow if you really hate—oh, no.”

“Remus!” a shrill, excited voice called. Sirius felt his fiancé straighten up as a tall, redheaded woman in star-painted jeans hurried across the grass with three other women in tow. She reached up and gave Remus’ cheeks a squish, then leaned in a planted a lipstick-stamped kiss to his forehead. “How are you, my duckling? Was your flight alright? Make sure you stay away from the salt or else your feet will swell.”

“Hi, Aunt Jen,” Remus said, grimacing a little at her rib-crushing hug. “I’m doing well, and our flight was fine. How are you?”

“Peachy keen,” she assured him. Dark brown eyes lasered in on Sirius half a second later and he felt his fight or flight kick in. “And who are you?”

“Aunt Jen, this is—”

“It was rhetorical, honey,” Jen interrupted with a pat to Remus’ arm as she stepped closer to Sirius and immediately hauled him in for a hug. She was as tall as Remus, but broader in the shoulders and hips; he had never felt so engulfed by someone. It was a strangely enjoyable feeling.

“Aren’t you a handsome one?” the shortest of the group cooed, as if she was talking to a particularly small dog in a purse. “Our Remus always knew how to pick them.”

Remus furrowed his brows. “Aunt Lisa, this is the first boyfriend I’ve—”

“But he’s not just a boyfriend!” Jen trilled, giving Sirius’ cheek a pat. “He’s a fiancé, something I learned from your mother. Not from your father—oh, I gave him a talking-to about that—and not from you, duck.”

Sirius bit back a laugh at the nickname and spared a glance to his left, where Remus had gone pink all the way to his ears. “Sorry.”

“Introduce us!” the shortest insisted, taking the other two by the hands as pulling them forward with an eager smile.

“Everyone, this is Sirius Black, my fiancé.” Remus gestured between them, and the four women beamed at him. “Sirius, this is Aunt Jen, Aunt Lisa, Aunt Allison, and Aunt Mary, my dad’s sisters.”

“It’s lovely to meet you,” Sirius said, holding a hand out.

“No need to be so formal,” the brunette grumbled with a teasing grin. “We have heard so much about you from Lyall. After those damned pictures—”

“Allison,” Jen hissed.

“—after the damned pictures,” Allison repeated with a pointed look. “I was about ready to drive up to Gryffindor myself and give that lousy son of a bitch a piece of my mind—”

“Allison!”

“—but Lyall talked me down and I have been waiting to meet you ever since.” She finished with a soft huff and gave his arm a quick squeeze. “Remus is a lucky boy to have you. It’s very exciting to see you in person at last.”

Sirius’ heart gave a happy little ka-thump and he smiled. “I’m glad to be here. Thank you for having me.”

“He is so polite,” Lisa said to Remus out of the corner of her mouth with a wink and a thumbs-up. “Good choice.”

“You know what I just realized? We haven’t said hello to Jules yet. We’ll see you in a few, yeah?” Without waiting for an official answer, Remus wrapped an arm around Sirius’ waist and practically carried him away from the table. Once they were out of earshot—and the aunts had busied themselves with one of the younger Lupins—Remus relaxed with a slow exhale. “I am…so sorry.”

“For what?”

“I had no idea they were going to corner you like that. I mean, I did, but I was hoping it wouldn’t be for another few hours. They tend to move in a pack at reunions, like sharks. Or wolves.”

“They’re really sweet.”

“They are,” Remus said grudgingly, though Sirius could read the affection dripping off him like his favorite book. “My dad’s the youngest of five, and I was the first nephew. You can imagine how that went.”

“Baby of the baby?”

“Exactly.”

“Can I ask one thing?” Remus nodded, visibly confused, and Sirius found he couldn’t keep his grin down any longer. “Duckling?”

“I hoped you didn’t hear that,” he groaned as they headed toward the kids’ play area beneath a large oak. “Long story short, it involved five-year-old me, a pond, and a sinus infection that made me sound like a duck when I sneezed.”

“Oh my god,” Sirius laughed, earning himself a light elbow to the ribs. “And the name stuck?”

“Considering she was the one that had to stay with me while my folks were working, she could call me whatever the hell she wanted. Please don’t ask her about it unless you want a thirty-minute TED talk about the ins and outs of my sinuses.”

“She’s a doctor?”

“No, she just overshares.”

“Sirius!”

Sirius looked up and saw a herd of small children racing toward them, led by his favorite person under the age of eighteen; Jules crashed into his legs and squeezed him tight around the waist. “Hey, I missed you!”

Jules propped his chin below Sirius’ sternum and stared up at him with the classic hazel-gold eyes that were far more common than Sirius believed before they arrived in the Lupins’ backyard. “I missed you, too! How’s the team? How’s Harry? Is he still super small or did he do that weird thing that babies do where their legs grow and the rest of them still looks normal? How was your flight? Did you have turbulence?”

Sirius thought for a moment. “Good, also good, growing normally, and yes.”

“Sweet! Come play cornhole with us!” Jules grabbed his hand and dragged him along the grass at the closest thing he could manage to a sprint with Sirius’ added weight—the pre-teen years had lent him gangly legs, though he didn’t seem quite sure how to use them yet. He looked more like a foal than a sixth-grader.

“What the hell is cornhole?” Sirius muttered as the flock of kids ran ahead to grab armfuls of beanbags.

Remus grinned. “Something I’m about to kick your ass at.”

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

By the time the sun set, Sirius was exhausted. He had been introduced to dozens of people who looked just enough like Remus to be eerie, as well as plenty who seemed to have been acquired by one Lupin or another over the course of their life. Jules fluctuated between laminating himself to Sirius’ side and disappearing for an hour at a time, only to return more grass-stained and rumpled than ever as he begged Remus to swing him around by the ankles again. His ass had been thoroughly kicked at cornhole and freeze tag; it was a true miracle he hadn’t already passed out into a food coma. For all of his earlier griping, Sirius couldn’t think of a time in recent months when he had been more content.

“You’re a brave soul,” Remus remarked as they sat in the grass together and watched the fireflies wake. Though it was a warm night, it seemed the citronella candles littering the tables were doing their job of chasing off mosquitoes.

Sirius leaned his head on Remus’ shoulder. He smelled like grass and summertime and sunbaked warmth. “Am I?”

“Mhmm. I’m sure most people would have run screaming by now.”

“I like your family.”

A beat of silence passed; Remus rested his temple against the top of Sirius’ head. “I’m really glad to hear that. They’re weird and loud, but I love them.”

“And I love you.”

“Are you saying I’m weird and loud?”

“On occasion.”

“Asshole,” Remus laughed, giving him a nudge that hardly qualified as more than a gentle sway.

“Language, there are eight million kids around.”

“They’re busy.”

Sirius watched as small group run by in a wave of giggles, all clutching mason jars of fireflies with their names written on masking tape. “Thank you again for asking me to come with you.”

“Like I said, Aunt Jen would—”

“Remus.” He fell quiet. Sirius didn’t remember the last time he said Remus’ full name aloud. “Your family loves you so much. They’re everything I ever wanted growing up, and it means the world that you wanted to share them with me. All they want is to see you happy. It was amazing to finally meet them.”

“They really, really love you,” Remus said softly, his voice a little thick. “I had about twenty people tell me how wonderful you are. They all thanked me for bringing you, and not a single one mentioned the celebrity thing. Even my Uncle Jay didn’t say a word about hockey.”

“He was the one in the jersey?”

“I’ve known him for my entire life and I’ve never seen him without one.”

“Huh.” Sirius tucked his face closer to Remus’ neck and let the sound of the bullfrogs in a distant marsh lull him. “What time is it?”

“Almost eleven. The adults will be up for a while, but the kids will start crashing soon.”

Footsteps on the cool grass rustled to their right and Sirius looked up. “Who wants pie?” Aunt Allison singsonged, breaking their quiet bubble with paper plates and utensils. “This one is blackberry, but we have peach, pumpkin, and a few others on the table if you’re still hungry.”

“Just a small piece, please,” Sirius said.

Allison paused and cocked her head, then burst out laughing. “Oh, you’re funny!”

“I am?”

“Don’t fight it,” Remus whispered.

“You are a growing boy,” Allison said as she cut a thick slice and plonked it onto his plate. “And there’s no such thing as too much pie.”

I’m 26, Sirius wanted to say, though he held it in. “Just a small one for me, as well,” Remus said.

“Ha!” Allison snorted. “You’re already too skinny. Eat your pie or you’ll end up a string bean like your father. The NHL might have given you muscle, but it’s useless if you don’t enjoy some of your favorite aunt’s—”

“—woah, hey now—”

“—pie once in a while.” Allison kissed the tops of their heads once both plates were secure and bowing in the middle. “I’m going to make sure the kids aren’t poking around in the river again. Sleep well, you two.”

Sirius stared down at his plate as she wandered away. “I’m honestly going to die if I eat this.”

“Yeah, please don’t make yourself sick on pie. You really don’t have to eat all of that. The aunts and uncles are convinced that none of us are eating properly once we turn eighteen.”

“Really?”

“I wish I was kidding. You’re going to sleep so well tonight, though.”

As if on cue, Sirius stifled a yawn with the back of his hand and cuddled under Remus’ arm again. A familiar shadow bounded over not two seconds later and he barely held down a groan. “Hey, can I join you?”

Remus shrugged. “ ‘course.”

“Sweet.” Jules settled himself across their laps, staring at the sky with his head pillowed on Sirius’ thigh. “Did you have fun? I’m really glad you could come.”

“I had a great time,” Sirius answered honestly. Now please move on so I can take a nap.

“Mom and dad and me got here yesterday, and Aunt Jen kept checking the door for you guys even though she knew you weren’t coming until today. She was worried you wouldn’t like us, I think.”

“That was never an option, Jules.”

“Yeah, I know.” A devilish grin flickered over his face. “Remus is the weirdest of all of us, and if you want to marry him—”

“Get off,” Remus grumbled, shoving Jules’ legs onto the picnic blanket. “You know, you were a lot nicer before you turned eleven. Can I return you and get a new one? I have the receipt somewhere.”

“Nope.”

“That’s all a birth certificate is, right?” Sirius raised his eyebrows. “If you bring it back in good condition, I hear they give you a ten percent discount.”

Jules scowled. “That’s so not true.”

“How do you think I got Regulus?”

“Isn’t it past your bedtime?” Remus asked with a pointed look. “Run along, problem child.”

“Of the two of us, I’m the least problematic.” Despite his words, Jules clambered to his feet and dusted his hands off over Remus’ head. “I’m not the one that got a secret boyfriend and got engaged in a year. I’m so easy. Mom and dad want two of me.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Remus sighed as he stretched out on the blanket. “They had a second kid because they wanted two of me.”

“You’re adopted.”

Remus cracked one eye open in disbelief. “No, I’m not.”

“How do you know?”

“Because—y’know what, go to bed. Or go find the stampede, I think they’re by the river.”

Sirius whistled lowly as Jules scampered off again. “That was impressive. Isn’t your aunt over there?”

“Yep.”

Realization clicked into place. “She’s going to make him go to bed.”

“Yep.”

“You’re brilliant.”

Remus smiled without opening his eyes, and tugged Sirius down by the sleeve to lay next to him. “You’re just figuring that out now?”

The stars were brighter than anywhere Sirius had ever seen; for a moment, he was struck speechless by the endless rivers of sparkling white overhead. He stared until his eyes burned from dryness, then put his head on Remus’ chest and kept on looking. There was no way he could tear his gaze from it. A few shooting stars streaked across the clear sky and he felt his heart skip a beat in pure amazement when he realized there was nothing else he would wish for in that moment. He could listen to Remus’ heartbeat and the sound of his new family talking against a backdrop of the night, relishing in a full belly and cool wind, and simply stay there for as long as he liked.

#sirius black #remus lupin #julian lupin #coops #lupin family #sweater weather #lumosinlove #my fic #fanfic #family reunion

211 notes · View notes

niyaeliza · 3 years

Text

Revenge Thinspo Imagine

A/N: Heeeeyyyyyyyy peoplesss. I’m back ._. on my bullshit. But I’m on a fast, it’s been two days so far, I’m debating if I’m gonna go another day or if I’m gonna have low cal soup idk yet. Figured I’d write thinspo to get my mind off of food. So I hope you enjoy!!!

_______________________________________________________

Imagine This:

You’re ex broke up with you because they didn’t like your appearance. You had a beautiful face, and a wonderful personality but they couldn’t deal with being with someone bigger. Out of anger and hurt, you decided to show them what they lost. The golden body that was hidden underneath the fat. So that’s what you did, fasting, running, all kinds of exercising, eating under 500 a day. As soon as you knew it, you managed to lose over 80 pounds.

Everytime you dress up, even in something as simple as black jeans and a white crop shirt, you look like a model. But you wanted to actually dress up today, you put on a gorgeous black skin tight dress (or all black suit) that shows your waistline going in and your hipbones protruding slightly. You calves and thin yet strong. The soft mounds of your breast are perky and you didn’t even have to wear a bra with it. You gracefully slide on your thigh high heels that have sparkles on them. You throw on a leather jacket and stare at yourself in the mirror.

Wow, it’s crazy how different you look. Your hair is pulled back showing off those beautiful cheekbones. Your nose is tiny with big doe eyes, not to mention those nice pouty lips that you glazed over with red lipstick. You grab your phone and take a picture in your big mirror. You post it on Instagram and immediately after that it starts blowing up. Old people who used to make fun of you asking how’d you do it. Those who turned you down are now asking for a chance with you. And that ex, still in your DMs saying how they miss you. Funny how the tables turn.

As you grab your wallet/purse, you look at yourself one more time and smile. You meet your friends outside, complimenting them on their outfits. You weren’t the big friend of the group anymore, you finally looked like you belonged there. A group of skinny beauties that could pass off as models. Your friends gush on how pretty and sexy you look and all you can do is blush. You and your friends make your way towards the bars that are open. Getting stares from everyone as you glide across the concrete sidewalks. When you and your friends get to a bar that seems to be popular with people. You walk up to the door and look at that, the person who’s in charge of entrance stares at you, their face shows awe and interest in you. You being the confident beauty you are, give them a little wink and smile.

Your friends giggle, glad that you have finally came out of your shell. The door person says they’ll let you in for free, if you give them their number. You smile and give it to them. You and your friends get in for free no charge. Immediately heading to the bar, the people at the bar looks at you and your friends. Other girls and guys stare in envy, awe, and some interest. The rest of night goes on with you and your friends dancing, singing, and drinks for free (because being skinny and pretty gets you plenty of free things).

When the bar closes, you and your friends go out walking in the city, you’re not out of breath because you work out almost everyday. “Let’s get something to eat!” One of your friends exclaim. You nod softly. You guys walk into a restaurant, and immediately eyes flock to you. People can’t help but to stare. You and your friends get seated and you look over the menu. You immediately go for the kids menu. No one is gonna question it because youre tiny, it’s expected to not eat a lot of food. You got for a salad and half a portion of kids pasta. Sipping on your water. You don’t freak out over the calories because you saved your calories today for this. You go to your phone and see that the person from the club messaged you. You tell your friends and they scream with excitement, “What did they say?!” They asks. You start to blush. “They asked to go on a date tomorrow.” And your friends giggle excitedly. You say yes because you find them attracted.

“Y/N?” You hear some one call your name. Your friends faces goes from happy to sour. All of them look mad or annoyed. You’re confused as you turn around. It’s your ex. “I thought that was you! Wow you look so good.” Your ex says. You smile softly. “Thanks” you say shortly turning back around.

“Wait, I was hoping we could talk?” Your ex says. You look at your friends and roll your eyes. They chuckle. You and your ex go towards the bathroom sign. “What do you want to talk about?” You ask your ex. Your ex then rubs at the back of their neck, shyly they say, “I hate how we ended. It was wrong of me to treat you that way. I really miss you, I can’t see myself with anyone else but you. Would you consider taking me back?”

You blink at them blankly. You can see sweat beads from at their forehead. You chuckle, “I don’t think so. I need someone who likes me for me, not my body. You didn’t want to be with me because of my body and look how the roles have changed. Now it’s my body that makes you want me back.” You then shake your tiny head, you give them a soft kiss on the cheek, and you tell them: “It was nice seeing you, have a good night ok?” And you then walk back to your group of friends who stare at your proudly.

As you make your way to your friends, you ex stares at you with sad puppy dog eyes, kicking theirselves in the butt for losing you. Everyone stares at the girl who looks so much like a model, beauty that is unreal and a body that’s wanted by everyone. As you sit down at the table, you think to yourself how different today would be if you didn’t change your ways and kept eating horribly. Luckily for you, you went on a diet, fasted, and worked out. You worked your ass off and now here you are reaping the benefits.

#thinspo imagines #thinspo #eating disoder things #not pro just using tags #i wanna be skinny #skinny #not pro just for myself

180 notes · View notes

guudak · 4 years

Text

andante, andante

pairing: jungkook / oc genre + tags: college au, f2l, alcohol, pining word count: 7,522 The aftermath of your best friend singing that ABBA song, clumsily flirting with you and then drunkenly professing his love to you multiple times in the same night.

“Is he ok? Namjoon, what’s he doing?”

“He’s severely hungover,” he explains to you, propping an arm on the windowsill. His hand gestures. “This is his remedy.”

You look out the window again, overseeing the frat’s backyard, and down below at the deck - is the person you sought. The gales shake the trees, you can hear it howl, and not to mention the downpour of rain that had you soaked to the skin through your jeans between your sprint from the bus stop to here. You look back at Namjoon, disbelieved. “What, sitting in a hot tub outside in the middle of a hale storm?”

“Erm, well, not the storm bit. That was just unfortunate. Sitting meditatively in a hot tub though, yeah. He does that a lot, moreso when he has something on his mind.” He peeps a discreet eye at you while you claim a seat on the ledge. Your arms cross, huddling your oversized cardigan over yourself as you glance back at the mop of matted black hair on the deck. Jungkook is sitting very still, laying back, eyes closed and his neck craning upwards towards the gloomy sky. A breath of air expels from your nose when you imagine how cold the rain must be.

“I really wanted to talk to him in person … I don’t know, do you think I should have waited a few days?” You turn to Namjoon who shakes his head.

“It’s good you came here. I think it would have left him to assume the worst and overthink otherwise, and you know what he’s like - better to confront him sooner than later. He’s been in a kind of sad, mopey daze since this morning.”

Your lips purse together as you mull this over. “I don’t necessarily want to confront him about it now, not if he doesn’t want to yet. I just want to see him and … make sure he’s ok. Because you know, that … overthinking thing he does.”

The upward lift of Namjoon’s lips is soft, the same kind of softness that’s perceptible in his eyes. The look reminds you of Jungkook’s own gentle demeanour. “I think seeing you here will disorient him a litte, but I think deep down he’ll be relieved. ”

He invites you to sit in the warmth of the lounge downstairs while you wait. The house of Beta Tau Sigma is cosy, and your favourite visits are always during the winter period when they’d decorate the interior, reminding you very much of the setting of a classic Christmas movie. Alas, however, it isn’t winter, and there are still strewn cups around and a broken lamp on the table in front of you; consequence of the party they hosted the previous night.

You’re surprised Jungkook remembers. He’d been so far-gone yesterday, yet you woke up this morning to four successive texts from him -

i’m sorry

im so so sorry.

can we talk

please

You’d thought over a tactful reply; taking into mind Jungkook: despite the calm, rational front he has - is emotional, an individual with a soul as sensitive as they come. You had to be careful with what you said, but soon after aborted all efforts when you’d found yourself backspacing each time. You prefer face-to-face conversation, and for something like this - you couldn’t possibly venture any other approach that would be befitting. For anyone else, perhaps. But Jungkook isn’t just someone else. He’s your best friend.

You check the text in reply that you’d left for him from two hours ago, which is still left unread.

hi jungkook i’d love to talk

are u ok

Sleeping it over had dulled the shock from the night before, as hearing it from him had been a double whammy for both your head and heart. You hadn’t known what to think, hadn’t known what to say.

In his tastefully tipsy state he’d been very happy. The chirpy go-lucky sort of happy that made you coo. Tipsy Jungkook is sweet and endearing, more affectionate and made it his mission to pull you with him to the karaoke machine. You’d been friends with him long enough to know that he could sing. He’s a soft singer; has a voice that could be lullaby to late sleepy evenings, it’s one you’d heard snippets of because he did it without conscious thought; he hummed in the car, while waiting in line - one of his many mannerisms that makes clear when he’s in his head.

“ABBA? Good choice,” you’d commented, after he jabbed the numbers on the remote. He budged over so you could sit beside him on the armchair. So cramped and close that you moved to drape your leg over one of his, and he welcomed it. “Not their most popular song, but definitely one of their most soulful. That’s a good one, it’s one of my favourites,” and then he stilled.

At the cease of his movements, you’d found your spine straightening just slightly, as if on guard, but for what you hadn’t been sure. You were about to ask him if he was ok, only to be taking the brunt of his bright puppy eyes that smile at you.

“Me too,” he’d said, with that characteristic gentleness shining in his orbs.

A few hours later, he’d morphed from sweet boy-next-door with the angel voice to himbo football jock slash and quote “pussy-whisperer,” courtesy and words verbatim of Park Jimin, who vibed with Jock Jungkook like a long lost brother.

The amount of girls that suddenly flocked to him and sat on his lap had you reeling in hysterics to the extent that you had to bury your face in Hoseok’s shoulder. Even when Jungkook’s on the football team, you’d never thought of him once as a jock. Didn’t they say all jocks are athletes, but not all athletes are jocks? He’d never lived up to the greasy college stereotype. Turned out maybe some alcohol was missing in the mix. Was this what you were missing? Who knew he had it in him?

“How many have you had, man?” Hoseok had asked, and Jungkook grinned, mouth lop-sided, before then thwacking him solidly on the back.

“I’m good, thanks for asking, man.”

“That wasn’t what I - ok,” Hoseok winced, clutching at his shoulder blade, and exchanging a bemused look at you.

You were alert to the sliding gaze of Jungkook on you. He slid into the chair close beside you, and you propped your elbow onto the counter. Head resting in your palm, you’d anticipated it.

“Hey, cutie.”

And there it was.

Your mouth twitched during your attempt to stifle your laugh, but you were eager to play along. You straightened, not shy to look him direct in the eyes, even when his own wandered to your midriff. “Hey.”

A moment’s pause, before he let out a wistful sigh.

“Holy shit, I love your boobs.”

Hoseok spat into his cup, a succession of coughs after.

“No, I’m just saying, from a non-biased, impersonal point of view …” He made a vague, rounded motion in the air with his hands, “- they’re really nice. I’m saying this objectively.”

“Objectively,” Hoseok wheezed. You aimed a calculated kick at his ankle.

“Thanks! They’re not much but they’re cute, I grew them all by myself.”

Jungkook hummed in acknowledgement, a critical eye on you and his head bobbing solemnly. “You did a good job.”

“Oh my God,” Hoseok was crying; head ducked, full-blown tears of laughter, ears pink and slapping the countertop. “I’m not drunk enough for this.”

“Yours are pretty neat, too,” you told him.

He looked down at the outline of his chest. “You think so? I’ve been working out but they could do with a bit more volume.”

Hoseok was doubling over, desperate to leave but at the same time rooted to the spot, thumping his chest to stop himself from choking. “I can’t take this anymore. I’m gonna die if I stay any longer. See you, guys.”

He left, leaving you alone with Jungkook and a few others in the kitchen. “You alright?” you asked, and he nodded again, smiling tiredly and head lolling a little to the side.

“Did you like the song I sang for you earlier?”

“You sang it for me? How sweet of you,” you cooed, cuddling up to his side. “You know, if you wanted to touch my boobs, if you asked I think I’d be ok with that.”

He seemed hesitant. “You’re bullshitting.”

“Ok, maybe I am a little,” you chuckled, feeling the rumble resonating from his chest.

“Seriously,” he murmured, and for a millisecond, you swore you detected the tone of the Jungkook - not this Jungkook who was a confident force, but the one you were most familiar with, “I think I’d -”

Jimin’s voice boomed above the stereo, “Jungkook! It’s your turn! Get your ass back here!”

A heavy sigh was drawn out from him as he slid his chair back. Though, he waited for you to lift your head from his chest before doing so.

“See you.” He winked at you before following Jimin’s ongoing calls. Though, more of a wink and a half. He never could wink properly with just one eye, both had to be involved.

Then came the finale.

The most recent drunken Jungkook phase - one you’d never witnessed beforehand. If there was anything you could have concluded, it was that beyond his sober level-headed exterior, he must have a lot of pent up anger. Jungkook in drunken phase three transitioned between a three colour spectrum of moods and you’d barely caught up.

Exhibit one -

“The ocean is so important!” he cried, literally cried as he began bumbling about blue whales and the sheer plastic in the ocean, morosed how the first piece of plastic ever produced still hadn’t decomposed.

It was no help that Namjoon enthusiastically joined in - the fucking nerds, until Jungkook started bawling and knocked back the salt shaker on the countertop mistaking it for a shot of tequila.

You’d panicked and dragged him to the nearest bathroom to wash it out of his eyes. The seconds that followed afterwards, was you rubbing his back while he sobbed and puked the hearty contents of his stomach into the toilet.

Exhibit two -

“If any dude is giving you a hard time, chances are - you’re hotter than them. And on top of that, they made you cry, making you a better person than them!” he proclaimed. Once you’d helped him clean up, he’d bumped into Ola - a girl you recalled was in his media class, and was crying outside of the door of the bathroom you and Jungkook had been in.

She’d sniffled her way through a story about a boy she’d been talking to for six months, and Jungkook was as revved up as his ocean speech while he pep-talked her about how heartless the guy was; that he gave good guys a bad rep; and that she simply deserved better. Of course, you’d agreed with him. It sounded all too familiar to something you’d said in the past, though who could blame him for adopting your mannerism of speech when he’d spent so much time with you?

Exhibit three -

“Hey, Chad! Why the fuck do you hate poor people?!”

You were mortified. “Jungkook! Literally, where did you get that conclusion from?!”

“He plays lacrosse and owns a golf cart!”

You groaned, yanking at his arm away from Chad - captain of the boys’ lacrosse team, and who’d also fortunately passed out on the couch, otherwise Jungkook for sure would have had his face beat in. Though, you’d like to think that Jungkook would win, for sure, but you promised sober Jungkook that you’d take care of drunk Jungkook.

So that was that.

By now you’d contracted a stress-induced migraine, by which your own best friend was accountable for. And you thought - by God, did he have to deal with this every time you went to a party together while you’d run rampant? This had been an eye-opener, and you should definitely be considerate next time because drunk people were babies, and not in the cute way either.

And finally: exhibit four.

“Hey.”

You endured all the pet names, had endured being called the Apple of his Eye, Angel Face, and his Compass Star, because flirty Jungkook had been throwing pet names around all night. You’d seen and heard it yourself. But nothing would have prepared you for what he’d say next.

You glanced at him, just a second to look away from your phone screen. “Yeah?”

His eyes drooped, form slouched, and head atop his folded arms on the countertop. It was just after midnight, and the kitchen was a quiet lull, besides you and Jungkook who were sitting together; and then there was Jimin and Taehyung, and Seokjin by the sink in their own private conversation … and whatever it was that Taehyung was doing. Admittedly you hadn’t been paying much heed nor did you endeavour to find out.

Body curling into himself; Jungkook looked so much smaller than when he stood to his full stature.

“I’ve got it bad,” he mumbled, wistfully, “real bad. So bad - I’m doomed bad. End of the fucking world baaad.”

Your hands rubbed at his nape, tender fingers toying with the longer hairs there. He’d been growing it out, and he looked good. You tucked a tuft of hair behind his ear. “What makes you think that?”

Again - the glossy puppy eyes that gazed up, contemplating you like you’d fallen from heaven.

His smile was meek, as shy as the drawling voice that spoke, “I … I really think you’re my soulmate. I don’t like saying it too much but I … like, love love you, but we’re only best friends. Someday you’ll date for real - instead of flings, I’d have to accept it. I don’t think I’ll be ok, but I will be, jus’ will take time to get over you. Have done it a few times before. I’ll be ok.”

Your hand stilled, fingers still tangled in his locks.

Rendered motionless, like air had been punched out of you from the stomach, unable to bring yourself to salvage the words. Breathless, all you could bring yourself to do was to weakly call his name.

He hadn’t heard you, and he yawned, leaning into your touch. His body trembled with his giggles. “One time, you were sooo drunk. You were so drunk, don’t think you remembered - blacked out. You flirted with me that whole evening. After that … after that I became obsessed with you forever.”

It was with a sinking stomach when you’d realised that you couldn’t recall that night at all.

Gulping, you peered down at the mop of tangled hair on the countertop, wishing for nothing else but to properly see his face, but it was half-hidden where he’d snuggled into his arms.

“Jungkook?” you whispered, gently moving away the hair that flopped over his eyes. “Jungkook?’

No reply. Just steady, heavy breathing.

No reply, because he’d fallen asleep.

It’s a splitting headache that rouses Jungkook from heavy sleep. One of those slumbers where he wakes up groggy, as if he hasn’t rested at all despite it being hours since. He tries to get up, but to no avail. His limbs are leaden heavy, and he collapses back onto his bed within seconds of mustering the strength to hoist himself up.

There are a series of knocks on the door but what’s the point of knocking when Jimin barges in anyway. He snickers seeing Jungkook: a sad, spectacular heap on the bed with a bitching hangover to boot.

“Oh, how the mighty have fallen.”

“Shut up,” Jungkook drawls, barely recognising the cadence of his own voice. He throws an arm over his face, brow tightening as he shuts his eyes to recall anything that happened hours prior, but even that’s too much of a Herculean effort that his brain isn’t willing to commit to at nine in the morning. Hangovers are not worth the night before for this - this is a different kind of hell.

Jimin places a glass and a jug of water on his bedside table. “Good morning to you too, sunshine.”

“Thanks,” he replies. He at least has enough strength to reach for the glass. When he sits up a hand goes instantly to knock against his temple, as if it would stop whatever invisible vice it is that’s squeezing and hammering at his brain from all directions. He notices Jimin’s narrowing scrutiny on him.

“You remember anything from yesterday?”

“Honestly, not really. Just some bits here and there.”

“Blacked out, huh.” If Jimin hesitated it’s only for a split second, he stuffs a hand into his hoodie pocket for his phone. “There’s something I wanna show you. Not sure if you’re gonna like it much.”

“Can’t be that bad,” he says, but Jimin proffers a look, and Jungkook frowns. “... Right?”

Jimin licks his teeth in a way that makes Jungkook’s stomach drop just slightly.

“Famous last words, bud,” is all he replies.

The slide of the back doors from the kitchen is what jerks your head up, followed by the sound of feet pattering on tiles. Suddenly, there’s a rise of anxiousness. Until you drum into your head that, no , this is nothing for you to be anxious about. There are the natural nerves budding that stem from confrontation, and you think this may be it.

Towel around his shoulders and dampened hair swept back, Jungkook doesn’t notice you at first when he appears by the doorway. He walks, gazes ahead like his legs are functioning on autopilot - but when he does notice you, he could have skidded. The way he halts and how his body almost springs backwards into the kitchen as soon as he sees your form huddled on one end of the couch, and how Basil - the frat’s cat, is curled by your lap, peacefully asleep and indulging in the soft stroke of your knuckles on his head.

His expression mirrors a man who wants so desperately to sink into the floorboards. Or to dash back into the hale storm and fully immerse himself head to toe into the hot tub’s waters and never surface again.

The first few seconds of silence is heavy. As if you’re both still trying to process the presence of the other. It’s an uncomfortable silence you’re not accustomed to when with Jungkook. He’s always leaned more to the quiet side of the spectrum; introverted, introspective. But silences had always been comfortable, even when you two clashed.

You endeavour for eye contact but he’s suddenly so transfixed on a shadow upon the wood flooring.

“Hey,” you begin, quietly, like the walls are listening in on you. It’s enough gentle encouragement for him to peer up. He hides his hangover well but the mirth, the glint; the starry eyedness that reflected in his orbs from the night before is absent, and no amount of hot tub therapy could conceal the physical and mental exhaustion.

“Hey.” He sounds almost breathless, smothers the tremor in his voice with a cough. “You’re … you’re soaked.”

“So are you.” Your tone is apologetic, “Sorry I came on short notice, I messaged you but I don’t think you saw it.”

He winces. “Right - sorry. My phone died. Haven’t checked it since.”

You muster a small smile. “I thought as much.”

Another breath. Another nervous lilt in his voice. “I’m sorry. Not just the phone thing but everything I said to you last night.”

You sigh. “Don’t be. It’s just … I’m surprised you remember what you said.”

He takes a breath, bicep flexing when he rubs anxiously at his nape. “I don’t,” he admits. “Jimin told me. It’s in this video he took last night of Taehyung eating cake off the floor, you could hear my voice in the background.”

“Ah. That explains it.” Your lips pursed. “Did you mean what you said?”

His eyes round and flash to yours. He chews his lip, throws a glance at his feet. “... Yeah,” he whispers.

“Not just the alcohol talking?”

“No.”

You’re quiet, continuing to stroke Basil who’s still fast asleep beside you.

“Sor—“

“Stop apologising,” you snap. You didn’t mean to, but his shoulders tense, and it makes you wallow in guilt that only he out of everyone has been able to make you feel. You haven’t thought this through and now you’re here you’re saying all the wrong things and asking all the wrong questions. But you remember it’s him, and recollect yourself. “Jungkook - it’s just … it’s just a lot to unpack.”

You peer up, his nod is slow, but he gets it.

He’s tired, you see it clear as day. See it in the trudge of his walk, the dim in his eyes, and neither of you talk on the way up. Not until you reach his room.

Despite your protests, he insists you help yourself to his draws for a spare change of dry clothes. It’s with that thought when you realise you still have yet to return several shirts to him with the promise of them all being washed and folded; washed and folded they are, but you never have been great at remembering to give them back. Putting it into perspective - maybe it is a little weird. Weird for two people who fall under the label of best friends. But then again you borrowed clothes from your own roommates all the time to the point you sometimes forgot whose is whose. It isn’t weird. Right?

While Jungkook goes for a brisk shower, you peel off your soaked clothes, hang them over a spot on his clothes rack. His room is mostly devoid of personal touch, though there are a few photos of his high school football days and some of him and his friends pinned to a board. Otherwise, he’s never had much interest for interior decoration, but he likes his room clean and uncluttered.

There’s a knock on the door a few minutes later. “Are you …?”

“Yeah,” you say. “I’m done.”

The door cracks open, and Jungkook appears, adorned in another change of clothes. His hair is still damp, fluffed at the patches that have managed to dry and his cheeks are pink from the heat of the shower, but he’s less rugged than earlier. Still tired, though. So tired that you don’t question it when he makes a beeline for his unmade bed and collapses face-first into his pillow. You perch on the edge, pulling his duvet over him.

He wriggles closer to the wall, like he’s making more room for you to sit. You appreciate the gesture and shuffle closer. Outside, the wind still howls.

“You should dry your hair properly,” you murmur, fingers at the damp ends of his nape.

“Yeah … prob’ly should,” he sighs, muffled where his mouth is buried in his pillow.

You came here to talk about yesterday night, but maybe it’s a conversation for another time. You out of everyone should know how strenuous it is to have a heart-to-heart while being victim to a hangover that gives you the same capacity as someone half-dead.

You’re staring blankly at the wall, so occupied with the whistle of the winds, so lost in the strands between your fingertips - that when you peer down you’re met with half-open shining eyes, and a lazy blinking gaze directed upwards at your face.

“Yes?”

“Nothing,” he murmurs, like clockwork, and buries half his face again into the plush of his pillow. It’s enough time for you to catch the shy tilt of his lips before they hid again. It’s almost ironic, how you’re the one next to him while he nurses a hangover when it’s always been the other way round. Here, he’s so vulnerable. Your mind wanders to the possibility - what if it was the other way around? An alternate universe where it was you who serenaded Jungkook with karaoke and confessed.

In whatever reality, you imagine him to confront you in the way you did now. Perhaps approached it a little differently, would perhaps be a little gentler, but he would never give you the cold shoulder.

For now, you both pretend there’s been no drunken confession. Best friends, like how it’s always been, and you’ll discuss it all when the time comes.

At some point you’re lowering yourself next to him; your head on the same pillow, and your bodies beneath the same blanket. He’s warm.

And it’s peaceful, as comfortable as it always has been.

“Oh my God, where the hell’s your shirt? I haven’t seen you swim once so far,” you scoff, and Hoseok pulls a sour face.

“You’re talking big for being the one in the string bikini.”

You look at him in disbelief. “Yeah, but I actually used the pool?”

“Scooch over, babe.”

Your eyes roll skyward as he plops beside you on the loveseat. It’s another weekend, another frat, another party, another excuse for Hoseok to walk around without a shirt because there’s a pool. Correction: a further excuse for hoards of frat boys to walk around without a shirt, but at this point you’re desensitised to it.

The music booms, a dull vibration you feel through the ground.

Kappa Omega is infamous for their extravagant parties (at least, as extravagant as college parties can go). Compared to others it’s vastly over-the-top, with most of the guys getting in through connections just like how their college applications got past admissions, but it is what it is. They’re not all bad people, they hold parties for fundraisers but sometimes it can’t be helped not to feel sour when you see what they blow their money on. The Kappa Omega mansion is so big that you’d spent a good portion of the beginning of the night lost.

“Lucky bastards,” Hoseok mutters. He’s said that several times this evening. He’s only here for the booze and the cheese tray. He pops open another beer, chucks the bottle opener onto the low table in front of him, besides the cheese tray he stole from the kitchen. “Which frat party was it again when you blacked out and dived into the pool fully clothed? I can’t remember anymore.”

“We don’t talk about that, thanks,” you utter, wrapping your long cardigan tighter around your torso. “Have you by chance seen Jungkook around? I thought he’d be here by now.”

He looks up, mid-way from tipping back his beer. “Yeah, I saw him some time ago.”

“What, where?”

“Sat with some food by himself somewhere.” His arm gestures vaguely. “He looked a little sad. You know, in signature Jungkook fashion, you know how he gets sometimes.”

Your form slumps. “Right,” you murmur. It’s been over two weeks since the last time you saw him. Not that it’s unprecedented. He has football among other commitments that strung him away for days and sometimes weeks at a time, and you had your own as well.

Be that as it may, somehow it feels like the both of you are drawing the whole thing out. Not purposely, but definitely unnecessarily. Neither of you brought it up in your messages to each other either, and it hit you recently that, well - you miss him. You’ve seen him around campus, but never for too long. Nothing more than fleeting sightings of him and his disheveled hair in a half-pony while he rushes to class after football practice; a hand usually holding onto a snack while the other held onto the strap of his half-open duffel bag, but you only had time to exchange a wave and a look that held promise of your next meeting. The fact remains that you miss your best friend, and it would kill you for your friendship to be awkward because of what happened. You had every intention to talk to him tonight in person, and no dallying or delays this time.

Hoseok’s eyes squint your way. “What’s going on between you guys, anyway. You guys a thing or what?”

You sigh, “That’s the thing, I have no idea yet.”

“Yet.” His lips purse, contemplating you. “He really likes you, you know. So, like, go easy on him.”

Your eyes narrow. “How long have you known, then?”

“As if it was hard,” he scoffs, sitting back. “Guy wears his heart on his sleeve. You have to be thick as a brick not to notice.”

“Wow. Thanks,” you deadpan.

He stabs his fork into the blue cheese. “You know why him and Yerim broke up?”

“Oh no,” you morose, frowning, “don’t tell me it was because of me. I talked to her after they broke it off and she said it wasn’t.”

“Not entirely. But I think she was bending the truth a little so that you wouldn’t berate Jungkook about it. She’s a cool girl, really nice and a good sport. Knew you two were close and accepted that like a champ. But -” and he pauses for emphasis. A pause which is seconds too long, and then finally he puts his fork down, clutches one of your hands in both of his, and waits for you until you’re hanging on to his every breath while he chews and swallows the remaining in his mouth. He resumes, brightly, “it’s not my story to tell. So you better go and find him.”

You shove him. Harder this time - enough that he topples over, and he cackles obnoxiously.

“Prick,” you laugh, but rise to your feet. Your gaze spans the backyard, the pool. You spot a hot tub, but it’s filled with other students who are laughing and raucous.

“Ok, I’m going,” you announce, glancing at Hoseok who’s still very much captivated by the cheese tray before him. It does look really good. “See you in a bit.”

“Yeah, yeah, bye.”

The problem with knowing so many people, and having the same friends as those people - is that in situations where you try to pull yourself away from yet another drinking game you’re taken by the elbow by someone else. Having all of your mutual friends congregated in one domain that is the Kappa Omega House has made your search for the ever-elusive Jeon Jungkook a grand Pain in the Ass. He’s like gold dust. You’ve texted him but you’ve yet to receive a reply.

“Hey, have you seen Jungkook?”

“I saw him at the front porch a few minutes ago?”

“... Seriously? I’ve literally just been there.”

You even scrambled over a balcony and leaped over a hedge when you tried to get away from Chad’s third invitation to join the game of chicken fight in the pool (a parkour stunt that you like to think would put Peter Parker to shame). You give yourself a quiet moment to catch your breath.

It’s then you realise you’re in a part of the backyard you swear you haven’t been in before. You can presuppose why. It’s dimly lit, less people, and the boom of the stereo is still loud, but is more of a distant noise in comparison to the other parts of the house you’ve been in. Like what the hell, how big is this place?

“Sooo, you’ve found him yet or what?”

You hear the voice before you see the face.

Unbelievable. So you cross paths with shirtless Hoseok for the third time and yet haven’t so much as had a hair’s glimpse of Jungkook.

“Nope,” you reply, quite miserably, hands stuffing into your cardigan’s large pockets. You feel for your phone. He still hasn’t seen your message. At this point you’re one teetering step away from letting go of the remaining wisps of your dignity and yell his name through a megaphone with a hope he'll come to you instead … you’ve probably done that while drunk before but you’re nowhere near tipsy now, and that’s besides the point.

Behind you, Hoseok hums, quite serene. When you look back you see he’s lowered his back onto the grass, his eyelids shut.

Eyes scanning this part of the backyard, it’s a different ambience to the atmosphere by the pool. More relaxed. There are students either sat or lying on the grass in small groups, their conversations a low murmur with the occasional twinkling sound of someone’s laughter rising above it. There’s a slabbed stone pathway that leads further up the grass, which then disappears behind a tall row of hedges, and with that you find yourself on your feet again.

“As much as it pains me to leave, there’s only so much of you I can take in one evening before I go crazy,” you tell Hoseok, who’s unbothered reply is no more than a lazy thumbs up from his spot on the grass.

It gets darker the further away you are from the house, but you’re led by the quiet warm-white glow of the lawn lights that highlight the path. It calms your mind to a lull that puts you at peace, something you desperately sought after your hopeless goose-chase just minutes prior.

The waters of a hot tub glow blue up ahead. You skid to a stop when you come closer and see someone’s in there; shoulders immersed and their head just above the water’s surface. What’s the phrase? When you stop looking for something, it finds you? That’s probably not how it goes, but it doesn’t matter. After futile searching, hedge jumping and greasy frat boy dodging, you finally found him. Of course he’d be in a place like this.

His eyes are dazed, mesmerised by the ripples in the water that his smallest movements create. He hasn’t yet noticed you coming.

You pad closer. “... Jungkook?” and like a switch, his spine straightens, goes rigid as a ramrod at your voice. He’s blinking, head shaking side to side as if to snap himself out of the trance that clouds his head.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” you exasperate.

He blinks. “You … you have?”

You scoff, amused at the way his brows knit. “Yeah,” you sigh, stopping so your forearms can lean on the sides of the tub. “May I join you?”

After a beat of hesitation - “Of course you can.”

You shrug your long oversized cardigan off of your shoulders, and double check that your phone is still in the pocket before you chuck it in a heap on the bench. You secure your footing on the step, eyes intercepting his own. His Adam's apple bobs when the rest of your body comes into view, and you shiver at the breeze but warmth engulfs you the second you’re in contact with the bubbling water.

“Feels good?” he asks, and you sigh contentedly, leaning back.

“Yeah.” If you really wanted to, you could fall asleep right here, right now. “What is it with you and hot tubs? Always knew you had a thing for them but never asked specifically why. Or does it just feel good?”

“Mainly that. The guys on my team use the excuse that it breaks up the lactic acid in your muscles after training, but it just feels good when you’re sore.”

“Huh.” When you crack an eye open, he’s already looking at you.

His lips purse. “Did you want to talk?” and when you nod he sighs, wearily. “I wanted to, honestly. But I … I guess I never felt ready to hear what you’re going to say.”

You frown. “What do you think I’m going to say?”

“I don’t know. That you don’t feel that way about me, which I’m fine with. I was never meant to let it slip, but I ended up saying all the things I didn’t want you to hear yet. And while I was drunk, of all things.”

You consider this, broach your tone carefully. “Were you ever going to tell me?”

His eyes avert to the water. “... Eventually. It would have been after graduation. No step three beyond telling you, no secret ploy to get you to fall in love with me, I only would have wanted you to know how I felt. I’d leave you alone and we’d finally move on with our lives. And what better timing than after graduation? But that’s not how it turned out, did it?” He laughs, but it’s with rueful discomfort.

“How long?”

He exhales. “A while.”

“I see.” You think hard for a second. “Even when you were with Yerim?”

He gnaws on his bottom lip, but you can tell he’s honest when he replies with, “Yeah. But I never pretended she was you.”

“Of course you didn’t, you’re not that type of person.”

At last, he does smile at that, and seeing the tilt of his mouth settles a warmth in your heart.

Part of you wants to ask what happened between him and Yerim, but you think perhaps it’s for the best you don’t know, at least now. It’s not your business nor his obligation to tell you.

Before you could dwell too much on your oncoming words, you continue barging forward or you’ll chicken out from what you’re going to say next.

“Jungkook,” you begin. “What if I said yes?”

A pause.

“What do you mean?”

“If you asked me out, and I said yes.”

He’s so bewildered he looks as if he’s just been slapped. Suddenly, something more serious shadows his features. “You know I’d never want you to date me just because. I’m fine with rejection, seriously, I’ll get over it. But I don’t want you to settle for less than what you want. You deserve someone you want, and if I’m not that person, that’s fine. You deserve -”

“Last time I checked, you don’t get a say on what it is that I do and don’t deserve. Who I deserve is for me to decide, so stop cutting yourself so short because you’re more decent than most of the guys I know.”

He shifts, looks away. “So what are you saying?”

“Should we try it?”

“What if it doesn’t work out?”

“Then it doesn’t work out,” you say, simply.

“But then it’ll be awkward.”

“You telling me that you became obsessed with me after I flirted with you for one evening while I was drunk already made it awkward. Not like we have anything else to lose.”

A breath of air expels from his nose in a chuckle. “Oh, ouch.”

“Jungkook,” you sigh. “It’s so easy to be around you. If it doesn’t work out, then it doesn’t work out, but how are we supposed to know how it’s going to turn out if we don’t even give it a chance? It’s going to be awkward either way but we’ll figure it out. Like with all the other crap we’ve gone through. I’ve been with enough guys to know that guys like you come far and few between, I trust you enough to want to do this. You’re one of those few guys I know I can trust, alongside Hoseok. Even though he can be a real bitch sometimes.”

Jungkook doesn’t rebuke you, but he laughs. It’s a sound you’ve never been more relieved to hear.

“So what do you think? I don’t want to force you into it. If you don’t want this, I’m fine with it. If you do, I’m fine with that too. Everything on my end is fine, so what about yours?”

If him confessing happened a year, or maybe two years earlier, you don’t think you would have confronted it in the way that you’d done now. You understand why Jungkook wanted to bide his time. You’re stubborn, fiery, and don’t think things through in the way that Jungkook does. If this happened two years ago, you can imagine you’d have yelled at him on impulse, asking him why, why he let it happen.

But there’s a very particular fondness you’ve honed for your best friend that has unfurled in the years of your friendship, to the point you couldn’t possibly imagine yourself putting blame on him for his feelings. It seems being friends with him has really mellowed you. While Hoseok is the friend you’re most similar to, your other pea-in-the-pod, Jungkook is the friend who balances you out. Someone so different to you, yet someone who still knows what makes you tick.

He’s a friend who doesn’t judge, but yet is always first to call you out whenever you’re out of line. A friend who waits until you’re inside of your dorm building before driving away. The type of guy who pays for dinner and doesn’t expect you to pay him back. A friend who makes sure you’re back home safely when you’re drunk, puts a glass of water next to you and watches over you to make sure you don’t choke on your vomit in your sleep.

Finally, after careful consideration, he nods. He nods, finally.

“So we’re doing this then.” You crack a smile, and he finds it difficult to suppress his own.

“Yeah,” he whispers. “Yeah, I guess we are.”

With an unchanging temper, as still and as serene as waters below the turbulent surface - Jungkook is your anchor, he always has been. The anchor that tethers your feet to the earth when the elements threaten to topple you over.

In the blue glow, you shuffle closer forward on your knees.

“Can I kiss you?” you murmur, and he chokes on his saliva, spluttering. You smile sheepishly. “Sorry it’s weird, you don’t have to let me if that’s going too fast. I just … I want to see what it feels like.”

He hesitates. “Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure.”

He mulls it over, but it doesn’t take much thinking. He stares at you, hard. But then you disrupt the stillness with a disarming smile, and unable to resist, he beckons you over. “Come here.”

It’s odd to straddle his lap at first. In the same way it is when you’re getting on a bike for the first time or any kind of first. He doesn’t make any first move, it’s you who he waits to initiate.

The path of your fingers trail slowly upwards, until they’re splayed against his chest. They remain there, and you detect the quick pattering of his heart, the rise of his chest. His breaths are deep but they’re controlled, and he feels sturdy beneath you.

Jungkook is stupid handsome, with the body to match. But that’s not what swells your heart. It’s not what pushes you to move further forward in his lap and finally press your mouth to the seam of his lips before you could think twice.

It’s how tenderly he gazes up at you. With the same sincerity and adoration he’d shown the night he’d confessed drunk. His eyes, an opening to his soul which is a whole other wonder.

When was the last time someone looked at you like that?

The kiss is soft. No sparks, no butterflies on your end - not yet, but somehow it still feels right. Like missing pieces that have finally fallen into place. Warmth and love spills from him. It saturates your body to the very tips of your ears, all the way down to your toes, like a slow, spreading glow. It feels good.

When shy pecks don’t become enough anymore, you get needy, touching and grasping for more of him. His palms press against your lower back, massaging the skin there, and eventually your mouth parts pliant for him.

“Oh,” he croaks, his head leaning forward so his cheek brushes yours. You can’t see his eyes, and you attempt to move but he curtains the planes of his face with his hair.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, having to strain to catch his whisper.

“I’m embarrassed.”

You chuckle, warmth spreading from the spot on your ear that his lips hover over. “How come?”

“Like, there are probably bricks softer than my dick right now. And … I really, really don’t wanna jizz my pants in a Kappa Omega hot tub. I would have hit my lowest point in life if I do.”

“Oh my God.” You’re almost crying, shoulders shaking with how hard you’re laughing.

“Please, I’m so serious right now. I’d never be able to redeem myself.”

“Would jizzing in an obscenely expensive hot tub be so bad?”

“Yes,” he emphasises. “Really bad, actually. Have you heard of that guy who ejaculated in a swimming pool and accidentally got twenty girls pregnant?”

“That sounds like fake news. There’s no way. Sperm aren’t homing torpedoes, Jungkook. They’d be unviable as soon as they’d be in the water. But if you want me to move back, I’ll move back.”

His face is taut, like he’s trying so hard. “Yes, please.” His eyes go stern, but there’s a nervous jitter you feel with the skin beneath your fingertips. “And just because I think it’s worth mentioning, I don’t think we should have sex straight away.”

“Oh. Right. I see,” you deadpan.

It’s his turn to cackle at the dead-set, disappointed look on your face. “What’s with that?”

Your eyes roll. “You know I’m kidding.” You brush the hair out from his eyes. “Jungkook, will you wait for me?”

His expression softens, and he hoists you until you’re pressed impossibly closer.

“Of course I will. However long it needs to be.”

a/n: when jk says you flirted with me the whole night and i became obsessed w you forever, yea that was from b99

originally posted on ao3! thx for reading!!! <33

#jungkook scenarios #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fluff #jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader

376 notes · View notes

percontaion-points · 3 years

Text

Raven King chapter 6

Click to see the rest of the snark & image descriptions.

Chapter 6

Nicky was bringing Jim from his improv class...

I thought Nicky had a long-term boyfriend?

Well, if he did, he probably doesn't anymore. Not with all of Nicky's jokes about cheating and him taking some rando to the big dinner.

Blackwell was slow to appear in the distance, but it didn't take long to spot the two stadiums. The football and Exy stadium were on opposite sides of the campus like massive bookends.

I'm still having a really difficult time swallowing that society completely shifted because of a sport invented some 30 years earlier.

Like I'm willing to overlook a lot for the sake of a story. But for society to just go completely and utterly apeshit over a 30 year old sport makes zero sense. AND I READ THE STORY WHERE THE LADY HAD SEX WITH THE LITERAL BULL.

Wymack pulled a bottle of vodka out of the bag and put it down beside Kevin. "You have ten seconds to inhale as much of this as you can. I'm timing you. Go."

It was alarming how much a man could drink when he needed an emotional crutch.

WOW THAT'S SUPER FUCKING HEALTHY.

Like I get that his foster-father and brother abused the shit out of him. But therapy is much better than alcoholism.

Madison was using the home locker room to change right now, so the Foxes had to go all the way around to the away side.

I really love how there's this big fancy banquet dinner where they invite all of the college exy teams, and they literally have to change in the locker room.

My high school did this band banquet, too. But we didn't have to fucking eat dinner out on the football field with our parents... We had the school cafeteria for the evening.

Out of touch author can't even think of a world where these idiots would want to rent a banquet hall. Oh no... it's got to be at the fucking stadium, for some unholy reason.

Judging by Neil's quick headcount, the Ravens hadn't brought dates. They hadn't brought any color along, either. All twenty-two of them were dressed head-to-toe in black. The twenty men wore the same shirts and slacks, and the two women wore identical dresses. They even sat the exact same way, all with their right elbows on the table, all of them with their chins in their hands. Another team might look foolish going so far, but somehow the Ravens looked imposing.

I joke about the fox characters outside of Neil, Kevin, and Andrew being cardboard cut-outs... but this ain't got nothing on those cardboard cutouts.

"I know who you are," Riko said. "Who here doesn't? You're the woman who captains a Class I team. You've done admittedly well despite your disadvantages."

CASUAL SEXISM.

The man to Riko's right stood up as soon as the Foxes were settled and walked behind the Ravens until he was across from Neil. Two fingers to the woman's shoulder got her out of her chair and she moved to the newly-emptied seat. The stranger sat across from Neil. As he did the Ravens fell out of their frozen poses, but they did so only to lean back as one in their chairs.

Did they practice this ahead of time?

The black three tattooed on his left cheekbone meant he could be no one but Jean Moreau.

Imagine getting a tattoo of a college sports number. Of which you would only get to play for a few years before being forced out.

It took him only a few seconds to realize the Ravens were coming. The entire team was crossing the court toward Kevin, walking in V formation like a flock of birds going south.

I can't with her descriptions of the Ravens. Like one team's colors are orange and white, and the other is black and red. ONE OF THEM IS GUD AND THE OTHER IS EBUL. THE RAVENS ARE EBUL, AND THEY'RE ALL HENCHMEN ROBOTS.

"We're sure it is," the Raven striker said, "seeing how you're dating a prostitute."

"Stripper," Dan corrected...

[…]

Neil tried not to stare at her. He would have dismissed the Raven's insult as an outright lie if not for Dan's easy response. Too late he remembered her telling him she'd worked an overnight job during high school to make ends meet.

THE AUTHOR DOES REALIZE THAT YOU HAVE TO BE 18 TO WORK JOBS LIKE THAT... RIGHT?! Like please tell me that the author didn't write about a 15 year old getting a job as a stripper.

This series is bad enough without needing to drag child strippers into the mix.

The others fell asleep within a few miles, but Neil spent the entire ride thinking about Riko and his father.

Chapter 6 summary: So it's time for the banquet. They do a random lottery draw where they decide which school will host the banquet this year. The school picked is only about four hours away. The banquet itself lasts for two days, in order to justify some of the travel time for those further away. However, the foxes are of the opinion “fuck that; we're not staying the entire two days”.

As they get closer to the school, Kevin starts to have a panic attack. As the others leave the bus, David gives Kevin some alcohol, and tells him to chug it. Which... yeah, that sounds fucking healthy. They have to change out in the locker room, which is fucking weird if you ask me. And then they go into the stadium, which has been turned into a banquet hall. The sight makes Neil angry, and mood. Rent a fucking banquet hall for this, assholes.

They're upset to see that the foxes are randomly supposed to be sitting across from the ravens. And the ravens are all dressed like evil henchmen, and are even randomly acting in unison. Talk about zero personality. David warned the others not to pick a fight, but obviously wasn't counting on Riko bringing his planet-sized ego with him. A rando Raven player named Jean-- who is the embodiment of every French stereotype you can think of-- starts to antagonize Neil, and calls him by a bunch of Neil's former names. He then moves on and starts insulting everybody else.

Their little pissing match goes on for a long while. But hey, it's not like anything else is going on, so this might as well happen, I guess. Finally, Riko antagonizes Neil into speaking, and Neil calls Riko out on his shit, saying that he's a whiny, entitled little brat who doesn't have anything going for him. Then, Jean and Riko start to act like they “own” Neil, which has fucking creepy slavery undertones to what they're saying.

David finally shows up to say that they're trying to move the foxes to another table. As they get up to leave, Jean can't help but name-drop Neil's father. The others rally around Kevin and Neil once they're away. Kevin is sent back to the bus to drink some more liquor, and Neil thinks about following. Not only that, but just fucking leaving. But he doesn't, because then this series would be put out of its misery.

After dinner, then they put all of the tables away and everybody starts socializing and networking. The ravens come over, act like they've never met the foxes before, but then continue to insult them. I'm really fucking over this. Riko's uncle and the raven coach comes over. The two teams awkwardly stare at one another, and the only thing this scene needs is some dramatic finger snapping. Tetsuji says that he ran fingerprint test off of a glass Neil drank out of back during that dumb morning talk show, and knows who he is. He yells at Neil about crimes that Neil's dad committed against The Family©, as if Neil himself personally did all of that. However, Neil stands his ground and refuses to be bullied by these assholes.

Matt finally drags Neil away, and threatens to tell the exy board about Riko's shit behavior and have him benched for the rest of the season. They all go back to the bus finally, and start to head home.

10 notes · View notes

chayacat · 3 years

Text

Devil’s Sweet Star (21)

Fandom: Dead by Daylight

Ghostface x Female Reader

Rated M for Violence, Language and Smut

***

Fear. Fear is something that has always been part of the human being. It's something that follows us everywhere and it's always the first thing you feel about the unknown. What will happen to me today, tomorrow or in the days, weeks, months to come? What future is for me? How long am I going to live? Will I find love? Is it the good one or the bad one, will it last or not? Should I do it or not? Should I say it or shut up... All these questions that we ask ourselves throughout our lives always plunges us into fear. Because we don't know what our choices will bring as consequences. The famous butterfly effect.

Fear also manifests itself in dangerous situations, where death can strike at any moment, and when it is about to strike us, fear invades us. Moreover, it is the greatest fear of Man: to die. But some are not afraid of Death: it is even a friend who comes to relieve us of our suffering once and for all. And others believe that death is a simple passage from one life to another through time. Maybe it’s true, maybe it's wrong. Who can really know?

It was with this fear in your stomach that you woke up this morning. The cause? A simple, insignificant, small, piece of paper. How can a single piece of paper scare someone; you'll tell me... Maybe because it's not that insignificant. In fact, it's not the paper that scares you, it's what's written ON IT that scares you.

“He’s dead.”

Those simple words made you react. These simple words frighten you. Because you know who wrote them, and who he's talking about. He did it. He really did. He has told you for a long time that he will. Yet inside, you feel relieved to know that McKellan won't be able to do anything to you, but that means you'll have to thank Ghostface. Once again. And if it happens like last time... You'd rather not think about it. Because the worst thing for you is that you liked it, deep down. But Jed's here now. And you know nothing can happen to you now. Right? My poor little girl... if you knew the truth... you left the door open. And the big bad wolf came home. Without knowing it, you’ve thrown yourself into the devil's arms.

While you were about to serve yourself a coffee, in order to chase away your dark ideas, someone knocked on the door. You put down your cup and you walk to the door. When you open it, you come face to face with Jed. But a Jed... quite different from usual. His Auburn hair was loose, wavy and cascading, he always wore his glasses, but his outfit was very different, a black t-shirt under an open denim shirt, grey jeans and black sneakers. But this face... and that angelic smile. It's something that will never change in him.

“Well... What happened to the real Jed last night? Have you been hit by the change fairy?” You said laughing.

“You can see it that way, yes. I thought you'd like it if... if I changed my look a little bit.” He responds laughing too.

“Just a little? I feel like you were kidnapped last night to change you or replace you with another. But... I don't mind. Because no matter what you look like... I know you'll always be you.”

You kissed him and he kiss you back, holding you in his arms. It was soft, smooth as always, a feeling that you never want to forget. Never. But Ghostface’s words brought you back to mind and made you tremble slightly. Certainly, Jed is the only one who agrees to write articles about him and that make him the "star" of Roseville. But knowing this sick man... He's capable of anything. Jed felt your concern, put an end to your kiss and recoiled his face to better observe you, passing his hand over your face to reassure you.

“Hey... What's wrong? You... Have you changed your mind?” He asks, worried.

“No! Of course not! I love you, it’s just that... He... he killed him.” you said, looking elsewhere.

“What? Who kills who?”

“Ghostface. He killed McKellan. He left me that note last night. I know it's him and it's McKellan he's talking about. He told me for a long time that he would do it... I should have told you about it or called the police or...”

“Hey hey hey... Calm down. It's going to be alright, okay? Imagine if you'd told the police about this. He would have killed you. Or torture or worse. We don't know what this psycho can do. You saved your life in some way.

“I know. But I can't help but feel guilty, the cops must know that I had a conflict with him. When they find out his body... they will come to see me and I am afraid... I'm afraid of what's going to happen.” you replied with tears in your eyes.

“Hey, I am here. And as long as I'm here no one will come near you and hurt you. I lost Carla, there's no way I'm going to lose you, is that clear? Our relationship has just begun and I intend to do everything I can this time to make it last for the rest of my life.” He said holding you close to him.

You both stand still for a few minutes without saying anything, enjoying the present moment. Nothing could ruin this moment. But one thing for you remains worrisome: the fact that you had a conflict with McKellan could put you on the suspect list. Even if Ghostface is the author, you may have problems. Maybe...

Maybe he did it on purpose? It's possible after all! Since you've known each other, he's been trying to push you to kill. He wanted to make you, his accomplice. And if, despite your categorical and repeated refusal to do so, he had taken the initiative? To drag you with him into the spiral of his massacres... And his madness.

“You don't have to worry, knowing Ghostface, he must have left a signature. He doesn't really have the kind to attribute the murder to someone else. So, there is no risk that the police will come to question you.” Replied Jed, backwards to better look at you: “I'm not working today, but I have to finish my article. I'm going to stay with you at the café, okay? And... If you ever need a helping hand, I could help you. Is that okay with you?”

“Say that way you can taste my cakes in secret .... You're going to end up with a nice round belly one day. But if you have to help me, you can bring the cakes for your colleagues. Let's go a little glutton. I'm going to end up being late.” You said, taking two boxes with cakes inside for the newspaper.

Jed smiles before kissing you and open the door. What a gentleman. All both, you're heading to Jed's van to get to work. The streets were quiet on this beautiful day and the cold weather of the last few days had disappeared. We will have to provide air conditioning otherwise the customers will melt ... and the cakes too. You were always worried about this paper but reassured by Jed's words. He is right, so far Ghostface has always signed his crimes. So, there is no reason to worry. Absolutely none. right?

“By the way, Melina... Melina told me for... You know, your family. It's really generous, you know. You... You could have kept it all to yourself. And you give up almost everything to your family. I'm sure your parents are proud of you up there.” Said Jed, breathing deeply without leave the road with your eyes.

“When...When my parents died, my uncles and aunts took care of me... I was in an emotional state... Deplorable. Even so, they've always been there for me. I owe them a lot. So, I think it's normal for me that some part of the inheritance goes back to them.” you respond looking at the road then at him.

“What are you going to do with... Your share?”

“Keep it. As much as I could. I will try to live as much as possible with the coffee money. And then maybe one day I would live in a nice little country house, far from everything. With the sound of birds and the singing of the rooster to wake me up. Or I'll take a trip around the world. I've always dreamed of going to Norway or Sweden... These countries are beautiful...”

Jed smiles while parking in the newspaper’s parking lot. It's best not to get fined. And since you have cakes to deliver... You might as well give them in your own hand, don't you? And so, you can see the newspaper's premises. No sooner do you enter the building than you freeze on the spot. Who would have thought that a small newspaper like the Roseville Gazette could have so many people? And to think that Jed is one of them! There are even security guards! It's impressive! You give them the boxes and tell them to be careful that no cakes end up crushed. Then all two go back and open the café. It's time. Jed settled down at the table next to the counter. The start of the day went very well, customers were always flocking as delighted to come to see you. The lunch break came and you sit at Jed's table, slightly exhausted.

“Maybe you should hire someone to help you. You're going to get sick by putting so much pressure on yourself.” Said Jed smiling.

“I thought about it... but not yet. I want to be financially sure I can pay a salary. Are you getting away with your article?” you ask.

“Yes. Mike was such a rotten man. A drug dealer and a pedophile on top of the market. Apparently, he was wanted in other states for these facts. But he always managed to evade the police. Unfortunately for him he did not escape death. Even my boss is disgusted to know that he had such a criminal in his employees.” He answers.

“No one could have known... There are true masters of concealment. We think they're honest people and then one day they reveal their real faces. And on that day, it's already too late to do anything.” You replied sadly.

“That’s true. You know, I've been very concerned about how Ghostface works... Since I've been writing these articles, I've noticed two or three little things about how he operates. He went after people who... always do something wrong. Since he started these murders... all of his victims either committed robberies, assaults, or trafficked drugs.”

“It’s to believe that he wants to pretend to be a hero.”

“Or he gets rid of the competition. This guy's a narcissist. He doesn't seem to like being robbed of the limelight. If he gets rid of those who want to steal the show... Then he'll be the only criminal in all of Roseville and I'm sure he's not going to stop there. He'll go all over the country.” Said Jed, replacing his glasses on his nose.

“He wants to be the biggest criminal in the whole country. The question is... Why?” you said confused.

The break ends and you get back to work quickly. Jed is right about one thing: one day you will have to hire someone. You won't be able to hold the coffee forever on your own, and if you're ever thinking about expanding it, you'll need employees. During the afternoon, you receive a phone call from the police that made you panic. Have they found McKellan’s body? Do they already want to question you??

None of that. The policeman on the other end of the line simply summons you to have your statement in relation to your attacker. You almost forgot that one. You say that you would be available tomorrow during the day because you’re not working. To which he replied that everything was written down and that he would be waiting for you tomorrow in his office. You sigh with relief when you hang up the phone before explaining everything to Jed, who laughs slightly shaking his head.

The rest of the afternoon went very well, and the time of closing arrived. After your usual little ritual, you and Jed go to eat something. For the first time a good burger and fries will be your meal tonight. After that, you head to your home. You greet Mr. Lawson, and go up to your apartments. But instead of leaving you, Jed kissed you while making you enter his house.

“What are you doing?” You said laughing.

“I don't want to sleep alone tonight. So, I'm kidnapping you.” He said before kissing you again, lifting you by the waist, making you let go of a little squeak of surprise.

“Well, what a force...”

“And you haven't seen anything yet.” He replied, heading to his bedroom.

He laid you down on his bed gently before putting himself above you. He removed his t-shirt, revealing his finely trimmed body, and with his wavy, cascading hair... he looks like a god. He kissed you again, began to slide his hands over your body, making you shudder slightly. But this time, it's a shudder of pleasure. He kissed every part of your body from head to stomach, then gently removed your top. He pushed his hair with a wave of his hand, revealing blue eyes piercing to fall out.

“It's... Maybe it's a little too soon. You may need a little time.” He said with a little smile.

“I... I’m sorry, I didn't want to...” you said worried by his reaction.

“It’s okay. I'll wait until you're ready. But on the other hand, that day ... I can't guarantee I'll control myself.”

“I can't wait to see that then.” you replied by getting up before being lying down again by Jed.

“I said I didn't want to sleep alone tonight.”

“I don't even have pyjamas for tonight!” you said laughing.

“Never mind... I'll lend you one.”

He put on a quick kiss before getting up and throwing a pyjama at you to change you. He undressed, wearing only his boxer before bed. Once changed, you join him in bed and you settle in his arms, passing your hand in his hair. You kiss one last time to wish you good night and fall asleep both. In his arms, all your fears fly away. All your worries disappear.

Nothing can happen to you.

Nothing scares you.

Not even Ghostface.

***

(I'm officially passing my code exam on April 9th! I can't wait! and I'm a little scared too XD But I've got a week to review so I should be fine! So, since we are confined for a month in France, the chapters will come out as planned, since I no longer go on vacation ... I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as the others! Good weekend to all! See ya!)

#dbd fanfic #dbd #dead by daylight #ghostface #danny johnson #jed olsen

18 notes · View notes

lancermylove · 3 years

Text

Halloween Costumes (HC)

Fandom: BSTS

Pairing: Team K x Reader, Team W x Reader, Team B x Reader

Warning: Suggestive.

Prompt: Reader to picks out a “couple costume” for Halloween.

A/N: Click on the names of the men to see the whole costumes!

———————————————

Prologue

Starless was hosting an invitation exclusive Halloween party. When you read the invitation, you noticed a line in bold letter: Must wear a costume.

You wanted to costume shop together with your boyfriend, but as usual, he was too busy. So, you decide to take the matter into your own hands. Without asking him, you pick out a costume for him (and you), but unbeknownst to him, you decide to go with a couple's costume.

———————————————

Team K

Kei

You wanted to see Kei as a vampire again, but when you reached for the costume, you noticed the costume beside it.

‘A devil?’ You smirked. ‘A sexy devil.’

Kei raises his eyebrow when he sees his devil costume.

“Devil? Is that how you see me?” He asks with a smirk.

“N-No. I just thought it would look good on you.”

Kei can’t help but smile when he sees your costume. He thinks it suits you well.

“My dear angel, you couldn’t look any more heavenly.”

Kei takes a hold of your hand and pulls you close to him, pressing his lips on yours.

“K-Kei?”

“You made me a devil, so don’t expect me to be an angel.” Kei leans in close to your ear, “The devil will show you later tonight what he can do.”

Sotetsu

Since last Halloween, you had dreamt of seeing Sotetsu as a vampire.

When you show him the costume, he laughs, “Be prepared to see the world’s sexiest vampire.”

Sotetsu is in surprised to see you in your costume.

“Such a beautiful vampiress,” he walks up to you and nuzzles your neck, “you smell nice.”

He presses the tip of his fake fangs into your neck.

“Let me drink your blood.”

“Sotetsu!?”

He chuckles and presses his lips on your neck, “I am joking, babe...kinda.”

Ginsei

Ginsei has always been your prince charming, so you couldn’t think of a more befitting costume for him.

“A p-prince?” He is shocked to see his outfit.

Ginsei looks like a prince straight out of a disney movie. Perfect.

“Princess, you look stunning.” He kisses the back of your hand, “But, princess, why choose this outfit?”

“Ginsei, you are my prince charming.”

His cheeks turn red but he smiles widely, “I am honored to be your prince charming. I l-love you, my princess.”

Gui

Gui is confused when you hand him his ninja costume.

“Ninja?” He blinks.

“Gui, you would be a great ninja. A badass ninja that can do parkour.”

He still doesn’t understand but willingly wears his costume.

“Wow, you look better than I imagined.”

“Are you happy seeing me wear this?” Gui asked, tilting his head a bit.

“Yes!”

“Then I am happy.” He gave an innocent, child-like smile.

Yoshino

You couldn’t decide which costume to pick out until you saw a poster of Mickey and Minnie. ‘Perfect.’

Yoshino stares at the costume with wide eyes and mouth open, his face matching the color of your costume.

“Uh, I...”

“Yoshino, please! You will look great as Mickey.” You batted your eyes lashes and pouted.

“A-alright.”

Yoshino looked beyond adorable in his outfit. So cute that you were tempted to tease him.

To his dismay, the cast members teased him non-stop at the party.

“Don’t you look adorable.”, “The hell ya wearing?”, “Hey Mickey, your face matches Minnie’s dress.”, “Your height is perfect for the costume.”

Yoshino went through a lot that night but he didn’t mind because your happiness mattered to him more than anything.

Team W

Kokuyou

Kokuyou smirks after seeing his costume, “Big Bad Wolf?”

“Suits you perfectly.”

“Is that so?” He chuckles and gets dressed.

“Oh, Kokuyou what big arms you have.” You place your hands on your cheeks, acting surprised, “Oh, Kokuyou what big eyes you have.”

Kokuyou chuckles and steps close to you, looking you straight in the eyes, “Hey, Red Riding Hood, this Big Bad Wolf is hungry.”

“What do you want to eat?”

He steps closer to you with an alluring smile, “You.”

Akira

Akira is excited to see his pirate costume, “Reminds me of my Seaside costume.”

He covers his mouth and shakes his head, “Forget I said anything.”

“Wait, Team W will be pirates in Seaside?”

“You didn’t hear it from me.” He quickly runs to the changing room and gets ready.

“Akira, you look hot.”

“Don’t I always? But princess, you look-,” he scans you up and down, “-sexy.”

“Hey captain, my eyes are up here.” You chuckle and lift his chin up with one finger.

“It’s not my fault that you look smokin’.”

Sin

Sin wasn’t expecting you to pick out a Batman costume for him, but he didn’t complain.

“Sin, please say “I am Batman” in a deep voice.” You giggle and clasp your hand together, waiting to hear your superhero sounding like the Gotham Knight.

He clears his throat and copies the cape crusader, “I am Batman.”

“Hm...brooding man, mature, rarely smiles, serious...? Sin! They should cast you as the next Batman.” You laugh.

While you’re laughing, Sin takes the liberty to study your outfit.

Though he won’t say it out loud, Sin is glad that you chose this costume. How else would he get to see you in a tight spandex jumpsuit.

Taiga

Taiga wasn’t ecstatic to dress up and go to the party. He wanted to spend the night playing video games, but he couldn’t say no to you.

“So what am I dress up as?” He asks in a dreary tone.

“Here.” You hand him the costume and wait patiently for his reaction.

“This is? Master Chief?” Taiga’s eyes sparkle with excitement, “This is...perfect!”

He throws his arms around you, “Thank you! I will be right back.”

You laugh and get ready. ‘He’s so cute.’

“How do I lo-” Taiga stares at you, wordless.

“What’s wrong?”

“You look a-amazing. I think I am in love with you all over again.”

Takami

Most people in Starless think that Takami is shady, so you chose a costume to match that description.

“A gangster?” Takami chuckles, cooly.

“I think you will look really cool as a gangster!”

Takami didn’t mind the costume, especially considering that his daily wear looks quite similar to the gangster outfit. Coincidence? I think not.

When he sees your costume though, he is left breathless.

“My, don’t you look sensuous. I am almost tempted to not go to the party.”

“Why? I worked so hard picking out these costumes.”

Takami chuckles at your cluelessness, “You are adorable.”

Team B

Kongou

“We are a married couple?” Kongou blushes and rubs the back of his neck.

“Yeah! The costume is called “Till Death Do Us Apart”, but I think the costume should be called, “Not Even Death Can Do Us Apart”.” You laugh.

“That’s clever. Excuse me.”

Kongou smiles when he sees you in your costume, “You look beautiful, even as a ghost bride. I wonder what you would look like as a real bride.”

You smile, “We will find out as soon as you propose to me.”

Kongou’s jaw drops as he stares at you with wide eyes.

You giggle at your boyfriend and walk out of the room.

“Soon, love.” Kongou whispers and fishes out a small blue velvet box from his pocket.

Ran

“SO COOL!” Ran is beyond exhilarated to see his costume.

“I knew you would like it! Let’s get ready and put on our makeup.”

You finish your makeup and help Ran apply blood to his face.

“More blood!”

“Ran? Are you sure?”

“Yes! I want it to be scary, so more blood.”

When the two of you arrive at the party, Ran plays a prank and suddenly appears on stage, scaring quite a few of the cast members.

Mizuki runs on stage and kicks Ran. Sinju, Yoshino, Mokuren, and Maica avoids the two of you. Qu compliments your makeup skills.

Though it was fun for the night, Ran got punished the next day for scaring everyone.

You felt bad, but it was worth it.

Mizuki

Mizuki is a fan of the Joker, so he’s thrilled to see his costume.

You help him with his tattoos before changing into your outfit.

Your boyfriend is busy checking out his costume in the mirror, but when he sees your reflection, he nearly falls backwards.

“So, how do I look?”

“Hm..fine, I guess.”

Mizuki’s cheeks are bright red, and he avoids looks at you.

“Only fine?”

“Nah, ya look great.” He grinned.

Mizuki felt an unknown feeling seeing you in Harley Quinn’s outfit. He couldn’t describe the feeling, but for some reason his pants felt tighter.

Heath

After seeing the costume, Heath isn’t sure what to say.

He’s not scared of clown, but he also doesn’t want to dress like one.

“Do you like clowns?”

“Not really, but since Team B likes unusual concepts, I thought IT would be a good choice. Why, you don’t like it?’

“No, no. I will wear it.”

When Heath sees your outfit, he blushes, “Are you sure you want to wear that outfit?”

“Hm? What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing.” Heath said, averting his eyes.

When the two of you arrive at Starless, many of the cast members are stunned.

Mizuki likes your costume so much that he disappears for a little while and comes back dressed in a jeans, yellow raincoat, and green rainboots.

“Heath?” You tap his shoulder and whisper, “Why did you ask if I’m okay wearing this outfit?”

“Oh...I didn’t want the men here to see you wearing such a short skirt.”

Rico

Rico frowns when he sees his costume.

“Why would you choose a costume that covers my handsome face?”

“It’s your punishment for not helping me pick out our costume.” You handed him his outfit.

Rico begrudgingly gets ready, but he freezes when he sees you in your outfit.

“Little bird, if the grim reaper looks like you, then I wouldn’t mind dying.”

You chuckle, “Is that so?”

At the party, you got a lot of compliments, much to Rico’s dismay.

He wasn’t fond of the cast members being around you but seeing them flock around you, made him angry.

How he wishes his costume had the power of the grim reaper. He would start by using that power on a certain leader.

57 notes · View notes

storiesforallfandoms · 4 years

Text

sneaking you out ~ machine gun kelly

word count: 1801

request?: yes!

“Can you write teenage!mgk imagine but i have no have idea! because you wanted to write 😄”

description: in which your best friend decides to sneak you out for the first time

pairing: machine gun kelly x female!reader

warnings: swearing, underage drinking

masterlist

You were in your room, watching TV before you went to bed, when you heard a sound at your window. You got up to see what the sound was, and jumped when you saw a face looking in your window. You covered your mouth to stifle a yelp as you realized it was just your boyfriend.

You opened the window and helped Colson in. You put a finger to your lips, silently telling him to keep quiet.

“What are you doing here?” you whispered. “My parents will flip if they catch you.”

“I parked my car a down the road a bit,” he responded. “I’m here to sneak you out.”

“No! Bad idea! Colson, they already don’t like you as it is, if they catch you sneaking me out they’ll ground me for life and forbid me from seeing you.”

“Hey,” he said, taking hold of your head to draw your attention to him. “Relax, I have a plan. You said your parents never check on you after you’ve gone to bed, just tell them you’re going to bed early cause you’re really tired. We won’t be out too late, and I’ll sneak you back in just as silently as I’ll sneak you out.”

You looked over at your clock to see that it was only 8pm. You weren’t sure if your parents would believe that you were going to bed early, but it was worth a shot.

You got up from the bed and moved to the door. You opened it, just a crack, and looked up and down the hallway to make sure your parents weren’t around. You called, “Hey, mom, dad, I’m gonna go to bed early. I’m feeling really tired all of a sudden.”

“Alright sweetheart, get a good night’s sleep,” your mom called back.

“Goodnight,” you called before closing the door.

You turned back to Colson, who had an excited grin on his face. “Alright, get dressed and let’s get you out.”

You weren’t sure where it was Colson was planning on taking you, so you just pulled on a pair of jeans and a hoodie, and the only pair of sneakers that you kept in your room (for emergencies, and this definitely classified as an emergency).

Your bedroom was on the second floor of the house, but luckily enough it wasn’t all that high off of the ground. Colson exited the window first, landing silently and looking into the window on the ground floor to make sure your parents weren’t there. When the coast was clear, he gestured for you to follow. You turned off your lights and the TV so that your parents would think you were asleep, then sat yourself on the window sill. You shot one last look over your shoulder, almost making sure they weren’t there, before pushing yourself off and falling to the ground.

Colson caught you and put you down. The two of you looked through the front windows of the house, almost breathing a sigh of relief when you saw that the living room curtains were drawn, before taking off in the direction of Colson’s car. When you were finally in his front seat you realized how fast your heart was beating, and you couldn’t tell if it was from excitement or nervousness.

Colson started the car and began to drive in the opposite direction of your house, as not to risk having your parents spotting his car.

“Where are we going?” you finally asked.

“That rock show I was telling you about,” he responded. “It’s an all ages show at a bar, and I know the bartender there so I can slip us some drinks on the down low.”

You liked the idea of that. Not only were you sneaking out for the first time, but you were going to sneakily be underaged drinking. You suddenly felt like a bad girl, and you loved it.

A short drive later, Colson was pulling into the parking lot of a bar that was already half packed with a lineup out the door. The show was due to start in about half an hour and everyone was jumping at the chance to get in.

The line was moving quickly and, before you knew it, you and Colson were slipping in through the doors. The place was completely packed and it was hard to get through. The amount of bodies crammed together in the small bar caused the place to feel hot and humid the minute you walked in. Colson took hold of your hand and held it tightly as he navigated the two of you through the place to the bar.

You were pushed up against the bar by the flock of people who were trying to get drinks. Colson stood behind you with his arms around you, protectively, as he waved a hand at the bartender. He was a younger looking guy, only a few years older than Colson, with such a kind face you could see why he had been hired as a bartender. You almost instantly felt comfortable around the guy.

He approached the two of you with a smile on his face. “Hey Colson! Glad you could make it, man. This your girl?”

“Yeah! (Y/N), meet Travis!” Colson said. “Can we have some Pepsis with a little added flavour in them?”

Travis winked at the two of you and poured up two glasses of Pepsi with a splash of rum. He put two straws in both and passed them back to the two of you. “Free of charge since it’s a gig night.”

“Thanks Trav!”

Colson led you away from the crowd but still close enough that the two of you could see the stage. You took a sip of your drink, scrunching your nose as you tasted the bitter flavor of the rum. Colson chuckled at your reaction.

“Have you never drank before?” he asked.

You shook your head. “Not really, no. I’ve had a sip of mom’s wine before, but even that tasted gross.”

“It’s an acquired taste. If you don’t like it, you don’t have to drink.”

Colson drank nearly half the glass in one long suck of his straw. You hit his arm, causing him to almost choke on his drink as he laughed. “Slow down on the alcohol! You’re driving!”

“I’m only gonna have one or two drinks, by the time the show is over I’ll be sobered up.”

You sighed and took another sip of your own drink. By the time you got to the bottom of the glass, you found yourself liking the taste of Pepsi and rum. Colson took your glass and went to get you a refill, returning moments later and taking you in his arms protectively.

By the time the band started to play, you had a pleasant buzz going on and you were dancing to the music. True to his word, Colson started drinking water and only water after his second drink, but even while half buzzed he seemed to be having a good time. He held you close as you danced, causing you to basically be grinding on him at one point.

“Are you having fun?” he called over the loud music of the band.

“I am!” you responded. “I’m so glad you snuck me out, baby. I would be such a stick in the mud if it wasn’t for you.”

Colson laughed and shook his head. “You were never a stick in the mud, babe. You just have really strict parents. They’re trying to keep you on the right path and not have you be corrupted by a hoodlum like me.”

You giggled. “Who the fuck says hoodlum anymore?”

Colson smiled and kissed you in response.

The night came to an end much quicker than you wanted, however that was probably a good thing because by the time Colson had gotten you to the car, you were properly drunk and the time on the clock read well past midnight.

“Oh no!” you said. “We’ve been out so late! My parents are totally gonna kill me!”

“I bet they haven’t even noticed,” Colson assured you. “Don’t worry about it, babe. You’ll be home in like 10 minutes and asleep in your bed and your parents will never know the difference.”

Colson drove back towards your house with the windows down as the cool air kept your suddenly nauseated stomach at bay. He parked the same distance away as he had been when he came to get you and helped you out of the car and to walk silently towards your house. All the lights were now off, but you saw that the window to your bedroom was still open, meaning your parent’s hadn’t come into your room to shut it or anything.

Colson helped you up into your room first before silently climbing in yourself. You tried to remain silent as you found the pajamas you had discarded hours before on your floor and changed back into them, shoving the clothes you had been wearing under your bed. You sat down on your bed and took hold of Colson, pulling him down with you and giggling as you did so. Colson had to cover your mouth to muffle the sounds.

“Do you really have to go?” you whispered. “I’ll set an alarm, we can get up early and get you out of here before my parents wake up.”

“I would love to stay, but I don’t think I should be risking getting caught babe.” He kissed your nose before finding your lips in the dark. He kissed you for a brief moment before pulling away. “Did you have a good time at least?”

You nodded, but realized he couldn’t see you. “I did. It was the most fun I’ve ever had. Thank you for helping me live a little baby.”

Colson chuckled and kissed you again. “You don’t need my help to live, (Y/N), you can do whatever you want with whoever you want.”

“But I prefer to do it with you, because I love you a lot and I want all my best memories to be with you.”

Colson smiled in the dark and helped you to get under the covers. He laid with you for a while, making sure you weren’t going to be sick or anything, before kissing you deeply once more.

“I love you, too,” he whispered. “I’ll be back to get you for school in the morning. If you feel hungover, drink lots of water and try not to let your parents catch on.”

You sleepily hummed in response. Colson kissed your forehead before silently slipping out the window once again. Moments later, you drifted off to sleep, dreams of Colson and all the things you wanted to do with him in the future filling your head.

I’m sorry if this is bad. It didn’t turn out how I wanted it to :/

#machine gun kelly #machine gun kelly imagine #machine gun kelly x reader #colson baker #colson baker imagine #colson baker x reader #mgk #estxx #imagine #one shot #request

251 notes · View notes

aloysiavirgata · 4 years

Text

The Way That Light Attaches To A Girl

Title: The Way That Light Attaches To A Girl

Author: Aloysia Virgata

Rating: PG (language)

Timeline: Season 1

Summary: Maybe she’s not so bad, this gingery little doctor.

Author’s Notes: Mulder reads Cicero and finds the method of loci tool useful in honing an eidetic memory. Also, the timeline of this show is absurd. Per canon, the Pilot is in March of 1992. But here it’s March of 1993 because...I just can’t, honestly. Thank you to @perplexistan for reminding me that I wrote this in 2013, and talking me through the timeline.

*** It's been a long December and there's reason to believe Maybe this year will be better than the last I can't remember all the times I tried to tell myself To hold on to these moments as they pass - Counting Crows *** It’s gritty outside, gritty and gray with a rime of salt on everything. There are pockets of rotten snow for him to kick, slushy and satisfying against his heavy shoes. He pulls his coat tighter, feeling like a hard-boiled detective in a pulp paperback, thinking this would be a good time for a cigarette if he still smoked. His divorce papers were filed this time last year, just like his parents’ had been a couple decades back. The ink had scarcely been dry on the marriage certificate when they realized they didn’t know each other and changed their minds. It was the same time Diana left him and his - their - files for whatever the fuck had summoned her across the sea. Paperwork, as ever in his life, was all that remained of these experiences. If this were really a detective story, he thinks, stepping over a soggy Washington Post, a tall cool blonde would have walked in through the frozen mist and into his arms. Someone lithe, with red lipstick and half-lidded violet eyes. She would look like Veronica Lake and speak in a low, compelling voice, urging him to do brave and outlandish things to thwart the Nazis. He’d wear a fedora, buy a mink stole for the blonde. They’d drink martinis and make love in dark hotels smelling of leather and intrigue. But he’s not living in a dime-store novel, he’s living in Alexandria on Christmas Eve 1993 (“The New Age of Angels,” claimed Time magazine, somewhat cryptically) and is eager to turn the last page in his calendar. Mulder knows it’s symbolic only, that his Eurocentrism is showing, but he still watches the ball drop on TV. Last year he’d kissed a woman in a bar and gone home with her too, but doesn’t think he’d remember her face if he saw it. He hasn’t got the energy to entice a stranger this year, and Scully’s hardly his type. He shouldn’t be sleeping with coworkers anyway, it’s never worth the trouble and the FBI is full of people who are paid to do nothing but sniff out secrets. Besides, he is now 32 years old which is really about time to start getting your shit together even if your baby sister was abducted by aliens at Thanksgiving. Mulder generally holds the holidays in low regard. He pauses to watch a small flock of cats at an upended trash can, feasting upon pungent things like battlefield ravens. One of the cats glances at him sidelong, narrowing round yellow eyes as though Mulder has designs on the gray thing it’s gnawing at. He holds his hands up to show the cats he wishes them no harm, keeps walking. Scully had offered to drive him home but he thanked her and caught the blue line, the clank and rattle of the train making him feel like some variety of normal businessman. Maybe people thought he was a banker or a Congressional staffer, going home to a twinkling Douglas fir and a mantle hung with stockings. Nine months and a broken condom can, in many circumstances, result in a whole new person. But it’s been nine months with Scully and she’s still her own woman, though Christ knows Mulder’s tried to remake her in his own image. She’s trudged alongside him through graveyards, military bases, bad diners, and one memorable night in Pennsylvania where she had captured a frantic bat in the hotel lobby. (“Do you want to wait for it to take human form before I release it?” she’d asked drily.) Through all of it she remained disbelieving and supercilious, leaving him vexed. She’d chirped “Merry Christmas, Mulder” at him, assuming that he celebrated Christmas and was capable of merriment. He was afraid Scully’d bring in a little Charlie Brown tree for the office, ornaments smooth and shining as her earnest face. She is skeptical in all the wrong ways and probably has the Michael Bolton Christmas album on her stereo at this very moment. She probably has eggnog in the fridge and will drink it without rum. She probably likes fruitcake and ham with pineapple rings on it. Mulder, going home to the shadows of his apartment where he might listen to Pink Floyd and nurse his resentment with three fingers of whiskey, feels justified in his scorn. A couple loaded with gifts pushes past him and he nearly loses his balance on a patch of black ice, clutches at a lamp post. He gazes up at the endless sky as snow begins to fall again. (Scully’s probably delighted by the prospect of a white Christmas, probably whistling a few bars of the song as she puts on a green sweater.) But he’s being unfair, isn’t he? For all her tattling back to the higher ups, she’s never tried to present herself as an angel. Her primary fault is in not being Diana, not being a tall dark moon goddess. Being pretty rather than beautiful, being frank rather than alluring. He’s seen her smoking a couple of times, discovered that she says “Jesus!” a lot so that she doesn’t say “fuck” or “shit.” This amuses him; he thought the blasphemy would be worse. He knows Scully watches what she eats but turns to carbohydrates and wine in times of stress. He found out she was sleeping with that asshole Jack Willis, which really threw him for a loop because Scully has a schoolteacherish quality that led him to presume premarital abstinence. He thinks of her in that first motel room, her smooth back beneath his hands, her panic turning on some masculine caveman switch. It’s been a long year, perhaps she could be his type after all despite her sensible underwear. She’s attractive enough if you like that sort of Hibernian look. He can tell she’s a bit awed by him and he could manipulate that to his advantage. Mulder walks the last slushy block thinking impious thoughts about Catholic school uniforms and playing doctor. The honeycomb tile of his building is muddied, layered with fragments of leaves and footprints. A radio blares something about Barbra Streisand doing her first live concert in twenty years. Mulder shakes his head and imagines his mother on the Vineyard, frothing with excitement. “Merry Christmas Agent Mulder,” says Leo, the maintenance guy. Leo’s got some kind of intellectual disability that Mulder hasn’t bothered to diagnose, but he’s always quick to replace a kicked-in lock or a shot-out window, and Mulder therefore regards him as a master craftsman. He gives Leo money every year at Christmas. At present he’s attacking the hallway sludge with an ancient mop. “Merry Christmas, Leo.” He gets his mail, sorting through it as he ambles to the elevator. Bill; bill; Playboy; Christmas cards from his doctor, dentist, and insurance agent; coupons; a thick manila envelope from the divorce attorney. Mulder rolls it all into a bundle and shoves it under his arm. He’s fumbling with his keys when the elevator deposits him on the fourth floor. There are wreaths on most of the doors in his building, a handful of mezuzas. Number 42, as usual, conforms to no given standard. He stops when he sees Scully leaning against his door. “Um,” he says. “Hey.” She waves her fingertips, looking uncomfortable. She’s holding a cardboard FedEx envelope. “I forgot to give you this before you left.” “Okay,” he says, uncertain about the idea of Scully on his turf. “Hang on a sec.” He makes sure the packet from the lawyer is hidden, though she’s probably heard the whole story. He knows what the talk is. They all act like he’s John fucking Douglas, like he can guess what number they’re thinking of based on how they part their hair. He’s a sideshow act, the guy who can think like John Roche and Monty Props. A freak. Scully turns to slouch against the wall while he jiggles the latest lock open, wishing there were a convenient place to stash a can of WD-40. “So, uh, come on in, I guess.” She turns, walks under his arm as he hold the door open, and stands in the entryway. The door clicks shut behind him, a final sound. Mulder puts his mail on the kitchen counter, tossing his coat over it. “You want anything to drink?” he calls to her, unsure if he can make good on the offer. What the hell does Scully drink? Tea? Zima? He’s got a few beers in the fridge, his wife’s wine is long finished. “No, I’m good.” Her coat’s draped over her arm when he comes back out, and he hangs it up for her. He notices that she’s wearing jeans with a navy cable-knit sweater, no tartan in sight. Her boots are dark and practical. Mulder shrugs off his jacket, loosens his tie out of its regulation noose. “Here, sit down. There’s, uh, the couch is right over there.” His couch is the atramentous green of algae, appearing black in the close room. “So what’s up?” She holds out the folder to him. “I realized I had this when I got home and since it’s a three day weekend, I wanted to make sure you had it. I thought it might be important.” Scully sits down close to the edge of the couch, much of her weight on her knees. She presses her hands together between them after Mulder takes the envelope, bouncing a little bit. He looks at the return address and groans. Arlinsky, that idiot from the Smithsonian. Mulder’s got enough credibility issues without this nutcase on his tail. He tosses the envelope on his cluttered desk for later perusal. Scully, as the messenger, looks apologetic. “Bad news?” He sits next to her, why not? “Nah, just…you know. The usual.” “Ah.” He watches her do a quick scan of his apartment. He has nothing to be ashamed of, she can look around. Mulder removes his tie completely now, untucks his shirt and leans into the corner of his couch. “So I’m surprised you’re here, Scully. I got the impression Christmas was a…thing. For your family.” He waves his hand vaguely, as though families are something he read about in a Margaret Mead article but never fully understood. Something closes in Scully’s face, which intrigues him. Discomfort usually comes with a good story, but he’ll tease it out of her later. She scratches her elbow, stalling. “I’m going to go by my parents’ house tomorrow.” “Not tonight? No big Scully celebration with stockings hung by the fire and cookies for Santa?” He has picked these ideas up from Oxford and Christmas music. Santa would probably prefer a cold longneck and some nachos. “My sister’s coming in tomorrow, she’s staying with my parents so they’re getting everything ready tonight. My younger brother and his family too, they’re getting in late.” Scully looks faintly guilty for this wealth of relatives. Which one of them are you avoiding, Dana? “Fun,” he says in a tone that he hopes is not sarcastic. Scully shrugs, picks at the cuff of her sweater. “Yeah, it’ll be good. I’ll get to see my niece and nephew. What about you? What are you doing?” “Oh, just…you know. Laying low.” He’s meeting up with the Gunmen for Chinese food and bootleg video games from some Japanese guy they know, but he’s not ready to tell Scully about them. In part because she might want to meet them and would end up charging Frohike with a sex crime. “Sounds good,” she says in a non-judgmental tone. “I could use some down time myself.” “Job wearing on you?” Going to wimp out and request a transfer? She puffs a breath of air out, pushes the tip of her tongue to her top lip. “No. Well, I mean, it’s hard. We travel so much, I didn’t do that before and it’s taking some adjustment.” Mulder drapes an arm over the back of the couch, wishing he could take his pants off and order a pizza. But he wants to know more about what drives her; Diana left him wary of unknown quantities, and this is his first opportunity to peer into Scully’s head. “Yeah, I guess they mostly shipped the cadavers to you before, huh? When you were doing doctor things?” He sees a slight narrowing of her eyes at this, the implication that she’s not a doctor now. The fact that she took it as an insult means it’s a vulnerability. “Mostly.” He decides to push it, being as he has home field advantage. “How come you decided to stop practicing medicine?” Scully sits up straight, her palms on the tops of her thighs. “I didn’t realize I had.” Prickly. “Oh, sorry, no offense. I just….you left your residency to join the FBI, right?” Faker, he knows her career trajectory down to the day. “My work as a Special Agent has always revolved around my background in forensic pathology. I just felt…called to the FBI as the place to best put those skills to use.” Called, religious imagery. Interesting. Her reply had a rehearsed sound, it’s something she’s repeated numerous times. Who gives her grief about being an FBI agent? A younger brother wouldn’t, would probably look up to that. Mom or Dad, most likely, though it could be one of the older siblings. He’d put his money on Dad or big brother based on the cold formality of her words. Both men are in the military, she’d speak to that. And big brother wasn’t mentioned as being in town, so Dad it is. He throws her a bone for revealing so much. “I’ve heard nothing but commendations.” “Thanks.” The appreciation seems genuine. “So what about you, Mulder? Why….this?” Scully holds her arms out like an orchestra conductor. The gesture encompasses his desk, the groaning bookshelves and fading newspaper clippings. Area 51, Reticulans, ectoplasm, and jackalopes. “Study hard what interests you the most in the most undisciplined, irreverent and original manner possible,” he quotes. “Feynman.” Scully knows her physicists. “It’s the perfect con, really. I figured out a way to get the federal government to pay for my hobbies.” He hopes that will satisfy her, but knows better. “Why is it your hobby?” Ah, Scully. You little investigator, you. “I’m a lousy knitter.” She smiles. “Because of your sister?” He steeples his fingertips, taps them against his chin. It’s tempting to blow her off, but he considers the implications of her presence. There was no reason to bring that letter by; she could have called and he could have told her to round-file it. She’s trying to build something between them, she’s looking past his annoyance with her assignment and he’s not going to slap her hand away on Christmas Eve. “Hold that thought,” he says. Mulder goes to the kitchen for the beers and the churchkey magnet stuck to the freezer. He checks for food, but a cursory examination reveals that Scully is going to have to make do with some brews. She’s peering into the fish tank when he returns, scrutinizing the inhabitants. “I think one of your mollies is pregnant,” she says. “That spotted one.” “Yeah, they’re prolific little cannibals. Here, Scully. Have a drink.” He holds the bottle out to her when she turns, watches her hesitate for an instant before accepting. “Thanks,” she says. “Though I probably shouldn’t.” She pops the lid off when he’s done with the opener. Takes a long drink. “So,” he says, returning to his seat on the couch. “Why do I spend my time looking for ET and yetis, right?” Scully rolls the bottle between her palms. “It’s hard for me to understand why someone with your abilities chooses to use those gifts this way.” Once she rides out this dogleg, Mulder thinks, she’ll go far in the Bureau with her careful diplomacy. “When my sister was…taken, it was the first time that none of the authority figures in my life had an answer. Not my parents, my teachers, the police…no one could tell me what had happened. Years went by and there was still no solution. People stopped thinking about it, you know? They just acted like she was gone and that’s all there was to it.” “But not you.” Her voice is gentle. “I couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that this was a question with an answer, even if no one wanted to delve deeper into what that answer was. I became, well, obsessed with the idea that there were all of these mysteries out there with answers that people were uncomfortable finding. So when I found the X-Files…” He glances sidelong at his partner, her nutmeg freckles and her cinnamon hair. “Isn’t that what you were doing already, though? Solving impossible cases?” He shrugs. “They weren’t impossible. They followed a pattern if you knew what to look for. But what I do now, no one wants the answer, Scully. That’s the real challenge.” “You caught Monty Props. Props, Jesus, that case is legendary! I want to understand, I do. I see what you’re saying about the challenge, it does make a kind of sense. But when I think about the people you stopped…” She shakes her head. She doesn’t get it. But she’s trying instead of dismissing him. That’s something. “That’s just it. Your reaction, it’s…look. Serial killers, they’re sexy. The public loves them. Everyone wants to be Bill Patterson or, or… Jack Crawford, right? People still read about Jack the Ripper, they practically turn these psychopaths into folk heroes. There will never be a shortage of people wanting to do what I did.” Half the beer is gone in his next swallow. Scully looks thoughtful, her thumbnail at the damp corner of the label on her bottle. “So this is like, what? Like a martyr thing? If you walk away from the limelight for this then it makes up for never knowing what happened to your sister?” She turns her head to give him a level gaze, her eyes so blue and clear they seem artificial at times. He’s been called worse than a martyr, but somehow it stings. “Martyr? That’s condescending.” “I didn’t mean it like that, I’m sorry. I just, I guess it’s hard for me to understand what you hope to gain. What all this means to you in the end.” Mulder’s had enough of her analysis. “I’m not like you, I don’t crave approval.” It’s her turn to look stung. “I didn’t mean to pry.” He sighs. “Your questions aren’t unfair. It’s been a hard year.” “I heard.” There’s sympathy in her tone and he tries not to resent it. “Listen, Scully, I know you didn’t ask for this assignment and you’re doing your best with a bad hand. It’s just hard to share a career I’m passionate about with someone who pretty clearly thinks it’s a waste of time.” Scully sets her beer on the coffee table, resting her elbows on her knees, her hands cupped around her chin. Mulder props his feet up next to her bottle, patient in the silence. There are deep shadows in the room, illuminated by the ambient streetlight through the curtains, the cool blue aquarium lamp. Puddles of light leak from the kitchen, but they barely stain the rug. Scully looks like a Hitchcock girl, white and pure, untouched by the surrounding gloom. She reminds him of Ingrid Bergman or Greta Garbo, her good bones and heavy-lidded eyes. “You know,” Scully says, muffled, “Pathology’s hardly the hottest specialty in med school. It’s not really seen as a place to make a career.” “The malpractice can’t be bad though, right?” She rolls her eyes. “You spend years of your life learning to care for the living and use it to examine the dead. People have…opinions about that.” This had not occurred to him, and he says as much. Scully sits up and settles back into the couch. “And to then take that to the FBI, well…” Full circle to the truth. “Lots of grief for that?” She shrugs. “From some more than others. My dad, he – look, Mulder. I’m not saying we’re in the same place or have the same ideas or that we’re both noble misunderstood renegades. I am not trying to oversimplify anything. I’m just telling you that I know what it’s like to care deeply about something that other people don’t necessarily understand.” She looks defensive after this, takes a fierce swig of her beer. Mulder eyes her up with a new appreciation. “I guess I just figured all doctors sit on pedestals.” “If so, some of the pedestals are much higher than others. I know you don’t like me, Mulder. Or at least you don’t like our partnership. We may never be friends, I realize that. But it’s been three quarters of a year, you have to let your guard down if we’re going to work together. I want what you want, answers to these questions.” He smiles at her. A real smile, and thinks that it’s been a long time since he’s done it. “But you still think I’m spooky.” Scully smiles back. “Absolutely. And I still don’t believe in aliens. Or yetis. Or missing time or vampires or Nessie. But that doesn’t mean I don’t believe there are answers.” He scratches his chin, five o’clock shadow rough on his fingertips. Maybe she’s not so bad, this gingery little doctor. “I did say I wanted a challenge.” “You did at that.” She returns her bottle to the table, then turns to face him. The aquarium provides a ghostly backlight, her hair gleaming like rubbed copper. He holds this image of Scully in his mind until it is indelible, then tucks it away to remember her by. The Rhetorica ad Herennium advises sensory encoding to aid in recall, and so he places her in the sunlit portrait gallery of his memory palace. Scully stands, crosses the room to take her coat from the rack. “I’m sorry the letter wasn’t good news.” Mulder gets up to join her. “It’s okay.” He squints when she opens the door, the hallway so bright it hurts his eyes. “Thanks for bringing it by.” “Okay, well, I’ll see you on Monday, I guess.” She seems hesitant to go. She probably feels sorry for him. “Thanks for the drink. And the company.” “Go,” he says. “You don’t want coal in your stocking for oversleeping tomorrow.” She laughs a little, then takes his hands in her small white ones. She gives them a squeeze. “This is going to be okay, Mulder.” He thinks she might be right, squeezes back. She lets go of him, walks out and turns right. He locks up behind her, her perfume still lingering on his side of the door. Diana’s not coming home. It’s time that he moved on.

#my fic #xfiles fanfic #xf fanfic #season 1 #new years eve

98 notes · View notes

imaginingmarvelandeverything · 4 years

Text

The Cabin

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Reader

Warnings: Spoilers for season 3

Word Count: 4299

A/N: So, here is part 20 of Nightmares and Bruises. I’ve only got one exam left and then I’ve officially finished my first year of uni!! That means that after the 26th, I’m going to try and attempt to get back into posting at least one, if not more, chapter a week. This one is really long and most of it is probably waffle, so I apologise. The taglist is open so drop me an ask or a comment! I won’t reply to comments because this is a side blog but know that I see and read them all.

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

After everything that happened at the hospital, they all realised they were up against a lot more than they could ever have imagined. They came to the decision that Jonathan would drive Y/N’s car, because she was in no shape to drive, and would take Y/N, Will and El to Y/N’s house so she could change, as Nancy took the others to her so she could change too. Then they would all meet up at Hopper’s cabin to figure out where they were going to go from here.

The Jonathan, Y/N, EL and Will arrived first and El had just finished getting changed when Nancy pulled up outside. As they walked in, Nancy handed El a bingo pamphlet with Mrs Driscoll’s picture on it and a picture of Bruce from the newspaper. Y/N handed over a family picture she had picked up in the Holloway’s house and the strip of photobooth pictures that had fallen out of Billy’s locker. Then they set everything up as usual in El’s room and left her to it.

“It can’t be good for her to be in there for this long.” Mike exclaimed after about fifteen minutes, gesturing towards El’s closed door as he paced back and forth in the living room.

“Mike, you need to relax.” Max rested her arms on her knees as she rocked her heels back and forth while sat in one of the arm chairs.

“What if she gets brain damage or something?” Mike countered.

“Oh shit! Is that, like, a real thing?” Lucas asked, taking a break from eating Honey Smacks straight from the box as he leaned back on the sofa.

Max rolled her eyes. “No, it’s not. He made it up. Mike doesn’t know what the hell he’s talking about.”

“Oh! And you do?” Mike stopped his pacing to face her.

“No, I-…” Max tried to come up with an answer.

Y/N stopped paying attention to their bickering as Nancy started another conversation on the phone.

“Yes, from The Hawkins Post. I-I called a couple of days ago about the… Yes, yes. Um, I was just following up to see if anything else had gone missing, or if…Okay. Um, sorry to bother you.” She slammed the phone back on the stand as Max and Mike continued to argue.

“You okay?”

It took Y/N a minute to realise that Jonathan was talking to her.

“I’m going to take that as a no.” Jonathan smiled and leant on the opposite side of the kitchen island from where her and Will were sitting.

Y/N tried to return it. “It’s just… Everything’s all over the place. The last two times we’ve had some direction but this time… I’m worried about Billy.” She bit her lip and looked at the ceiling to try and stop another set of tears falling.

“We’ll figure it out. Alright? We always do.” He smiled again before Nancy walked over.

“Who’s next?”

“There is no next. Unless you want to start calling random people’s homes.” Jonathan told her as he crossed out the place she’d just called in the phone book.

“It doesn’t make sense!” Nancy said, throwing her notebook down on the kitchen island.

“What part of any of this makes any sense?” Y/N asked, suddenly very aware of the pain in her shoulders. She reached into her bag and took another couple of painkillers with the glass of water Jonathan had given her a while ago.

“There’s a pattern, okay? A consistency to their behaviour.” Nancy looked between the three of them sat in the kitchen. “They’ve been feeding on these chemicals since this started, and-and what? They just stop, out of the blue?”

“Maybe they have all the chemicals they need.” Will spoke up. “Maybe they’ve all turned into those… things.”

“But what about the source? I mean, did the mind flayer just suddenly stop infecting people? And even if the flayed are monsters now, why can’t El find of them?” Nancy rattled off.

“Okay, can you guys settle an argument for us?” Max walked into the kitchen with Mike behind her. “Who do you think should decide El’s limits? Mike, or Eleven?”

“The way that you frame that is such bullshit!” Mike said.

Y/N stood up and walked over to the window. She couldn’t deal with any more arguing. She just wanted answers. She just wanted Billy back.

“What’s going on?” EL’s voice brought everyone out of their various states as they all turned to look at her.

“Nothing! Nothing.” Mike said a little too quickly.

“Just a family discussion.” Lucas added.

“Oh. I found him.” El said.

“Found who?” Y/N walked back over to everyone.

El looked directly at her. “Billy.”

Y/N felt her heart stop. “Where is he?”

“At his house.” EL told her.

She grabbed her car keys and had almost made it to the door when Nancy grabbed her unbroken arm.

“Where are you going?”

“To go see him. He’s still in there Nancy, I can bring him back, I know I can.”

“He nearly killed you, Y/N. Twice from what I can tell. We need more information before we go charging into anything.” Nancy’s grip was firm as she raised her eyebrows, daring Y/N to challenge her.

“Fine, but he only tried to kill me once, the crash was an accident.” Y/N put her keys back in her pocket and let Nancy drag her back into the living room area. Everyone was sat around El, who was sat cross legged in front of the static TV again. When Nancy and Y/N were settled, she tied the bandana around her head again.

It was around five minutes later that she ripped the blindfold back off.

“What’s he doing now?” Max asked as El stood up and walked into the kitchen.

“He’s just sitting, in his room.” El grabbed a glass, filled it with water and then gulped down the whole thing.

“And that’s not normal right?” Nancy asked, her eyes drifting from Max to Y/N.

“Billy staying in his room on the fourth of July? No, that’s not normal.” Max said.

“We were supposed to be going to the fair.” Y/N remembered, even though she knew that was never going to happen right now. She ignored the pain piercing her heart and tried to analyse the situation. “He wants us to find him.”

“Yeah, that’s what I was afraid of.” Nancy said, looking directly at Y/N. “If we go to Billy, then the rest of the flayed know where we are.”

“It’s a trap, I agree. We’ll be ambushed.” Mike chimed in.

“We won’t be surprised. We’ll know that they’re coming and we’ll kick their flayed butts.” Lucas said with sheer confidence.

“You mean El will kick their butts.” Max reminded him.

“It’s too risky.” Mike said

“Yeah, and unnecessary.” Nancy backed up her brother. “Killing the flayed won’t kill the mind flayer. We have to find out where it’s spreading from and top it. We have to find the source.”

“Which only one of us has visited, and I can’t even remember it.” Y/N reminded them.

“Billy knows it.” El said. “Billy’s been there. To the source. He was awake, after the crash?”

Y/N nodded. “Yeah, he was. He was covered in dirt and grime and really panicked when I came too in the car. Looked like he’d been dragged across the floor.”

“Yeah, but-” Mike started.

“It’s a trap.” El finished. “I know. We can’t go to Billy, but I think there’s another way. A way for me to see where he’s been.”

They got everything set up again in the living room. Mike tried to talk her out of it one more time before she went in, but she assured him she would be fine.

Billy sat on his bed with his hands resting on his knees. His eyes were trained straight ahead at his bedroom wall. As El walked closer she could see the cuts from the sauna test seemed to be an even darker shade of black than before. He was still in the white vest and jeans from the hospital. She took shuddering breaths as she got close enough to truly see him. Y/N had been right. His eyes were pained, but the rest of his face and body language was neutral.

El reached forward and took his hand. He didn’t even seem to notice as she lifted his arm up. The scratches Y/N had left at the hospital were littered down his forearm. They had all turned black too.

“Billy?” El spoke softly. “Can you hear me? I want to see. I want to see what happened.”

That seemed to get through to him. He raised his gaze to meet hers. His eyes were glassy with unushered tears. But then his face went hard and he grabbed El’s forearm in a vice like grip. She started to panic as she tried to pull her arm from his grip.

El’s breathing was increasing sharply and none of them knew why.

“Something’s wrong!” Mike said, but no one made any attempt to move; none of them knew what to do.

El fought harder and harder to try and pull her arm out of Billy’s grip. But he held fast.

“Stop! No! No! No! No! NO!” El screamed as she managed to yank her arm back. But in doing so, she sent herself falling backwards.

It felt like she was falling in slow motion. As she fell there were flashes. Flashes of memory. The sauna test. The mind flayer. Y/N pushing her out of the way before Billy’s hand could close around her throat. The mind flayer. Heather’s parents being taken and flayed. The mind flayer. Billy standing over Heather in the basement. The mind flayer. Billy watching them leave the Holloway’s after they had interrupted dinner. The mind flayer. Heather in the ice bath at his house. The mind flayer. Heather being dragged down. The mind flayer. Billy being flayed. Billy flaying Heather. Billy being dragged down into the basement. The mind flayer. The crash.

She hit the floor and was immediately engulfed by a wave. She pushed herself onto her front as she looked around. She was no longer in the upside down, well, not the one she was used to. She was on a beach. She looked to the side as a flock of seagulls took off into the air, cawing to each other as they did so. She struggled to her feet and looked around in confusion.

“El? Are you okay?” Mike was getting worried.

She let out a shaky breath. “I’m okay.”

Everyone released the breathes they had been holding.

“What’s going on?” Mike pressed.

“I’m… On a beach.” She sounded as confused as everyone felt.

“Okay, I may be dense, but the last time I checked, there weren’t any beaches in Hawkins.” Lucas said.

“What else do you see?” Max asked.

As El looked around again, a woman came into focus. She was tall, blonde and beautiful. She was wearing a long white swimsuit cover and had a pair of yellow sandals and a straw sunhat in her hand.

“A woman. She’s… Pretty.” El smiled. “I… I think she’s looking at me.”

The woman smiled in El’s direction and started to wave. “Whooo! Yeah!”

It was then that El noticed the woman was looking behind her. A boy, somewhere between ten and twelve, came running out of the sea with a surf board under his arm. He dropped the board in the sand and ran up to the woman.

“You did it!” She exclaimed as he reached her.

“There’s… A boy.” El told them.

“Did you see that?” The boy asked.

“Yeah, I saw that!” The woman replied before resting her hand on the back of his head and kissing his forehead.

“That was at least seven feet!” It was easy to see the excitement in the boy’s eyes and face.

“I don’t know what it was, but it almost gave me a heart attack.” The woman smiled again.

“Ten more minutes?” The boy asked.

The woman tried to keep her face happy, but there was worry in her eyes. “Yeah, okay, ten more minutes.”

“Okay!” The boy raced back to his surf board with a smile on his face.

“But any longer than that, dad’s going to be mad, okay?” There was an edge of panic to her voice.

“Okay!” The boy was too busy in his element to notice it.

“Billy?” The woman called out as El’s eyes went wide. “Watch out for rip currents!”

“I know!” Billy called as he ran into the sea.

“It’s Billy.” El said.

“It’s California.” Max realised. “It’s a memory.”

Y/N reached over and took her hand. The red head looked up at her and squeezed her hand back as she noticed the older girl’s eyes getting glassy.

El watched from the beach as Billy paddled his surf board back out away from the shore. But her eyes were drawn away by the distant rumbling of thunder and flashes of red lightning.

“I think I see it.” El said. “The source.”

Everyone looked at each other and sat up straighter.

The sky above the beach was clear, but in the distance, dark clouds, tinged with red were forming. El cast one more look out to sea before setting off towards where the clouds had formed. The closer she got, the more the wind seemed to pick up, until it was whipping around her.

“Hey! Billy, stop!” A man’s voice screamed over the wind.

El turned to look as the young Billy walked towards her. He was in full baseball gear and the man was storming after him, baseball bat held under his arm.

“What the hell is wrong with you!” Neil caught up to him and grabbed his arm, hard. “What did we talk about, huh? You gotta slide!”

“I-I-I Know.” Billy stammered.

“Wait, afraid you’re gonna get hurt, is that it?” Neil scoffed.

“No!” The panic in Billy’s voice was building.

“Well, what then? What?” Neil’s voice was getting louder. “What did I raise, a pussy for a son?”

“Leave me alone!” Billy ripped his arm from Neil’s grip and started running.

“Hey! That’s right, run! Like you always do!” Neil screamed after him.

El started after Billy, turning to glare at Neil as she passed. The wind was getting even stronger and the clouds were swirling around her.

“Where were you last night? Where were you?” El couldn’t pinpoint where Neil’s voice was coming from due to the clouds.

“I told you, I was with Wendy!” Billy’s mom shouted back.

“Stop lying to me!”

“I’m not lying to you!”

“You saw him again, didn’t you?” Neil finally came into view. He was gripping Billy’s mom’s arm as Billy sat at the kitchen table, watching everything unfold. “Didn’t you!”

Billy’s mom ripped her arm back and pushed Neil back. “Get away from me! I said get away!” She threw a plate as Neil tried to get close again.

“You- you whore!” There was venom dripping from Neil’s voice.

“Stop it!” Billy screamed as he got in between his parents.

“Bitch!” Neil moved towards Billy’s mom.

“Don’t hurt her!” Billy grabbed Neil’s waist and tried to push him back.

“No!” Billy’s mom screamed.

“Don’t hurt her!” Billy said again.

“You bastard!” Billy’s mom shouted as Neil threw Billy to the floor and punched Billy’s mom in the face.

“Mom!” Billy screamed as he got back to his feet.

“I don’t understand. Why not?” It was Billy’s voice again but it wasn’t coming from the scene in front of El. She spun around and tried to find the source in the clouds. “Please, mom, don’t do this. Please come home.” Billy pleaded. El caught sight of him sat on the floor, leaning against a bed with the phone to his ear. “No, how long? How long! I miss you.” Billy was getting more desperate as sobs racked through his chest.

“Get back here!”

El turned to try and find the source of the new voice. Her eyes landed on a young teenage Billy on top of another teenage boy. Billy was repeatedly punching the other kid in the face.

“Get up! What, are you scared to fight me?” Billy yelled at the boy. “You scared? Get up and fight me, pussy. Pussy!”

El watched with glassy eyes as the sweet boy from the beach began to change into an unrecognisable person.

“Billy, come over here. I want you to meet someone.” Neil came back into focus. He was walking towards Billy, with his hand on a young Max’s shoulder. “This is your new sister. Her name’s Maxine.”

“Max.” Max corrected him.

“Shake her hand.”

The clouds suddenly broke. El found herself face to face with Y/N.

“Y/N?” El muttered.

“What is it?” Y/N shifted forward.

“I can see you. You-You’re walking down a road. It’s night. You’re… Alone.”

Y/N’s voice caught in her throat. “That… That’s the night we met.”

El watched as Y/N pushed her hands further in her hoodie’s pocket. She was clearly cold. She jumped as a car engine cut through the calm night air. El watched as she moved to the side to let the car go past. To El’s surprise the car pulled up.

“Y/N, right?” Billy was smiling, but there was a bruise forming under his left cheekbone.

Y/N nodded.

“What you doing out this late in the cold, princess?”

“Couldn’t sleep.” Y/N shrugged as Billy’s eyes surveyed her shivering figure.

“Want to come for a drive? I’d rather not leave you out here in the cold.” He reached over and opened the passenger side door without waiting for an answer. “You shouldn’t be out here alone, it’s dangerous.”

As Y/N got into the car the clouds descended again. El spun and found Y/N kneeling in front of Billy with tears streaming down her cheeks and her hands gripping his shirt. Billy was bloody and beaten and there were tears in his eyes too. Steve was on the floor behind Y/N, not moving.

“Stop, don’t become your dad. Billy please.” Y/N pleaded with him. “I meant what I said; I love you.”

“You can’t just say that and then disappear with someone else!” Billy’s voice was broken.

The clouds vanished again and El found herself stood in Billy’s room. Y/N was leaning over the side of his bed, looking through the paperbacks that she had pulled out from under his bed. Billy was laid behind her on the bed, holding a book above him as he read it. El had never seen either of them so calm.

“Hey, what’s this?” Y/N’s fingers gripped the spine of a very beat up copy of The Catcher in the Rye. She sat up on the bed and opened the book; photographs falling out as she did.

“I didn’t know where else to put them.” Billy put his book down and sat up next to her. He rested his weight on his left arm, next to her hip as he rested his head on her shoulder and reached for the top picture.

El moved closer to get a look. Most of the pictures were of Y/N and Billy, a few of just Y/N, but there was one of Billy and his mom. Y/N picked that one up. Billy noticed her looking at it.

“That was just before she left.” His voice dropped almost to a whisper.

“I’m not going anywhere, you know that, right?” Y/N turned to look at him.

He moved his hand to her face and brushed his thumb over her cheekbone. “I know. I promise we’ll never be like that; I won’t be like him. I will never hurt you; I promise.” He leaned forward and kissed her. Her hands moved to his hair before he pulled back and rested his forehead on hers. “I promise.”

“Who’s there?” The clouds engulfed everything again as Billy shouted.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Y/N’s voice rang out.

El spun around in circles but couldn’t see either of them.

“I said who’s there!” Billy screamed as he was pulled to the ground.

But El still couldn’t see him. She pushed through the clouds as the wind picked back up. She had to raise her arm to protect her eyes. Billy continued screaming as El could finally make out the Camaro’s headlights. She started moving faster as the screaming got louder. But it suddenly stopped as she broke through into the eye of the storm. She looked around at the old steelworks and saw the Camaro against one of the walls. The lightning and thunder picked up again as she walked towards the main building.

“I think I found it. The source.” El said as all the others leaned forward.

“Where El? Where are you?” Max asked.

“Brimborn… Steelworks.”

Jonathan shot to his feet and ran over to the kitchen island. When he came back, he was clutching the phone book in his hand. “Here. Okay, uh, steelworks, steelworks.” He started flicking through the pages as Nancy got up to join him. “Here steel. Uh, found it! 6522 Cherry Oak Drive.”

“That’s close.” Nancy said.

“El, El, we found it. Get out of there. Get out!” Mike said.

El heard him but as she closed her eyes, she felt herself falling back up. As she did, she saw the crash, she saw Billy trying to wake Y/N up, saw him getting dragged into the basement. She saw Heather again, and everything that had happened to her, and everything else she had seen while she was falling, just in reverse.

El ripped the blindfold off and looked around the cabin, only to find that she was alone. “Mike? Mike?” She didn’t understand where everyone could have gone when Mike was just speaking. She pushed herself to her feet as she started to panic. “Mike! Mike! Mike!”

“He can’t hear you.”

El spun around to try and find the source of the voice. Her eyes landed on her open bedroom door as a shadow appeared on the wood, before Billy stepped into view. El took a step back on reflex as he paused in the door way.

“You shouldn’t have looked for me.” It was the same as before, his voice seemed to have an edge, like multiple people were talking at once. “Because now I see you.” He crushed his cigarette in the ashtray on the hall table as he started towards El. “Now we all see you.”

El started backing up, panic clawing up her throat as she looked at the boy who was so broken and alone. Who had finally managed to catch a break but the world seemed determined to not let him have it.

“You, let us in and now, you are going to have to let us stay.” Billy kept advancing as El took steps back. It was then she noticed his eyes and recalled what Y/N had said. Tears were forming along his lash lines. Billy, the real Billy, was still in there, watching all of this and fighting so hard to break free.

“Don’t you see? All this time, we’ve been building it.”

El could no longer hold in the sobs that racked through her chest. She didn’t know how to get out.

“We’ve been building it, for you.” The tears finally began to fall. He was in pain.

“What are you doing?” Mike shouted as Y/N moved towards El. “You can’t touch her when she’s in there!”

“We have to do something! Look at her! I have to try!”

El felt something grasp her hand and when she looked up, Y/N was standing next to her. Y/N’s eyes grew wide as she looked around the cabin and then met Billy’s eyes.

“Billy?” Her voice was soft and pained.

The mind flayer didn’t seem phased, but there was a slight change in Billy’s eyes as he looked at her. El tugged Y/N back as Billy carried on towards him.

“All that work, all that pain, all of it, for you.”

El and Y/N hit the kitchen island and Y/N pulled her to the side. But they were running out of room to move.

“El, you have to do something.” Y/N’s eyes never left Billy as she felt tears starting to fall down her own cheeks. El didn’t appear to have heard her over her own sobbing and focus on Billy.

“And now, it’s time. Time to end it. And we’re going to end you. And when you are gone, we’re going to end her,” Billy’s gaze moved back to Y/N, who gripped El’s hand tighter. “and all of your friends.”

“No!” El screamed.

“And then we are going to end everyone.”

El finally snapped out of it and threw up the hand that wasn’t holding Y/N’s. “GET AWAY!”

Billy was thrown backwards.

“NOOOOOO!” El screamed as she ripped the actual bandana off.

Y/N fell back, breathing hard, as Mike grabbed El and pulled her into him. Nancy and Jonathan grabbed hold of Y/N’s arms and pulled her up.

“What happened?” Nancy asked.

Part 21

Tags: @assholeheartthrob @httperrornicole @ambeazyyy @princess-huffy @gemgemswift @colie87 @iris-suoh @sydneynix8305 @peter-pan-hoe @p0wderedtoast @not-a-glad-gladiator @fangirlinganditswonders@endgameendsme @lazinesstookovermylife @lilac-dreams @anon-1112 @lilmissperfectlyimperfect @wickedlovely121 @lightlysweetened @scarecrowsragdoll @bilesxbilinskixlahey @moonstruckbucky @krazykatkay456 @thecraziestcrayon @moonchild1507 @tah0e @tony-stank3 @allie-mcginn @supernatural-girl97 @hi-my-name-is-riley @ria132love @t-swizzle-owns-me @sabrinasturtlenecks @meliv99 @jamesvaldezzzz @thatfrenchperson @cynthianokamaria @avnngrss @studysimsx @emmaquarius @stevieboyharrington@eyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy @ofwisdomandwar @external-l-appel-du-vide @evelynfreakinaddams @bish-ima-clown @noodlenerd101 @jakesmysterio @playboygeniusphilanthropist @itsfangirlmendes @pinkrosesx @killer-queen-xo @steveharrigntons @bookmarkofglitter @alina-margaret @labyrinth-of-thoughts @helen-of-troi @ninjathrowingstork @requestedmemory @believerofall @thefandomzoneisdangerous @esteroni @deepmilkshakecoffee @somethingdawn @brandi1936 @universefinds @huang-the-geek @silver-winter-wolf @longliphoney @absolute-randomness-forever @littlepsychos-world @octavia05 @escaping-reality21 @httpakasha @dmv49 @lyricfreaks @helena-way07 @katiexdacre @fangirlbitch02 @lo-bells @slytherinrising @i-am-a-smol-sweet-potato @imjusthereforsupernatural @lokis-butter-knife @banannie25 @itsanallygator @justabeautiful-letdown @calumsfringe @jakeblckk@sunshine-and-riverwater @lasnaro @ang-hellic @marvelous-hargrove @safewithintheheart @kpopishilarious @beyxlm @sighrins @iloveyou3000and5 @yosoymuyloca @lauren-novak @killerqueenishere @fanngirl19 @nonexistentsouls @charmed-asylum @teenyforestfairy @speedmetalqueen @xobeautifulfaith @clinomanians @briemariea @kcd15 @ellenna @just-a-nat @readinthegarden12 @peqchynero @rosariia25 @chloe-skywalker @aurorajuarezwolf @vulture-withafile @and-drew-101 @aamcqueeny @lovepandasloves @nightbu-g @spaceythangs @lookalivesunshine-x

#Billy Hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove imagine #nightmares and bruises #dacre montgomery #dacre montgomery imagine #Nancy Wheeler #jonathan byers #mike wheeler #eleven #Max Mayfield #Lucas Sinclair #will byers #stranger things #stranger things 2 #stranger things 3 #imagine #x reader

266 notes · View notes

serzhantkris · 4 years

Text

Rebel Yell- 6

Summary: Let’s get something straight: he does not love you. He knows that for sure, because he doesn’t want to scream at you and he doesn’t want to get married, and that’s the only things he knows for sure about people who are in love. And he was doomed to kiss with his fists and scream and be angry and blame everyone but himself for the rest of his life. So, no. Billy did not love you. Billy Hargrove x Hopper!Reader

Word Count: 2504

Warning: sexual situations

AN: Hey everyone, I won’t bother you with a super long update/apology. If you want to shoot me a message about how I’ve been gone forever, feel free. I miss you all, here’s some Billy.

Masterlist

The sunlight streaming in the windows is what wakes you. Slanted shadows fall over your face from the blinds, and you nearly panic until you remember it’s a weekend. The sound of something moving in the kitchen is muffled by the door, but it doesn’t stop the smell of bacon wafting through the cracks. Tossing the blanket back, you reach for a sweater as you patter barefoot into the hall.

Jim stands at the stove, his back to you, flipping the strips over in the pan. He’s head to toe in tan, the unbuttoned shirt catching flecks of grease. “What are you doing?”

He turns, just enough to catch sight of you, and points at the table with his spatula. You ease into a chair, cupping your chin in a palm. “Making breakfast,” he says, turning his back to you. “Heard you come in after eleven last night.”

“We got caught up at Benny’s,” you inform him, reaching for a strip of bacon as he slides the plate on the table. He gives you a pointed look, turning back to crack eggs into the pan. “It won’t happen again.”

“It sure won’t,” he says. Quiet lapses as you chew the strip of bacon, watching out the windows as a flock of birds settles onto the deck railing. “Your boyfriend’s quite the rebel.”

“He’s not my boyfriend, Dad. We hardly know each other.”

“Well enough to hang halfway out the car window,” he pulls another plate out of the cabinet, shutting the door a bit too hard. “Glad you made it home alright. I was worried about you, runnin’ around with some kid-“

“Billy, Dad. His name’s Billy.”

“I know.” He turns around, yanking the other chair out from the table as the plate landed heavily on its wooden surface. “He tell you Callahan got called out there on a domestic a few weeks ago? House wasn’t even unpacked yet-”

“What the hell, Dad!” You shoot up, knocking the chair back as your palms slammed on the table. “Are you serious right now? You ran his name?!”

“I asked around the office.” His face hardens, silently daring you to keep yelling or to storm off. “I just wanted to know who my daughter was running around with-”

“And I told you all you needed to know-”

“-because I pulled over this death-trap and she’s in the passenger seat-”

“-and you should have trusted me-”

“I did trust you,” He snapped, a fist pounding on the table. Your mouth snapped shut, teeth grinding at the back of your jaw. “I trusted you to come home on time. And you didn’t even do that. Did you want me to wait until you maybe didn’t come home at all?”

The sound of the birds outside is all that fills the space between you. You’re staring at the table space between your hands, trying to ignore the way his eyes burn as he waits for a response.

The phone started to ring, making you jump. Jim drops his fork down on the table with a clang, taking two long strides to the wall and yanking the receiver off the hook. “What?”

He listens for a second, keeping his voice low, but you’re already heading back down the hall towards your room, yanking open the dresser to find clean clothes.

“I gotta take this call.” Jim lingers in your doorway, fingers doing up the buttons on his shirt. You ignore him, shoving piles of denim and cotton around the drawer. “Listen, I know you’re angry-”

“He’s not a demogorgon, you know.”

Jim’s tongue is dry, mouth still open, and his arms fall to his sides as you finally look at him, hands gripping a pair of worn jeans. “I know that. I know that, and maybe I shouldn’t have jumped the gun-”

“Got that right.”

“Will you quit running your mouth for two minutes?” Jim runs his hand over his face, exasperated, and you fall silent, giving him an eerily familiar look he might have seen in the mirror a time or two. “Let’s make a deal, alright? You make it home by curfew from now on, and you let me know where you and your- where you and Billy or whoever are gonna be, and I’ll… Keep my nose out of your business.”

Your lips press into a fine line. “That would be easier to do if you were around.”

“Don’t. Test me, Y/N.” His teeth grit, and you can’t look at him, because you know there’s no way of winning this fight. “I’m not negotiating here. Two rules. Follow them.”

Without another word, the door to your bedroom slams shut behind him. You don’t move, still staring at the pile of clothes shoved to one side of your dresser as you listen to the sounds of the police car’s engine roaring to life outside.

Billy is pussy-whipped. That’s the only way to put it, and it’s infuriating. No amount of cigarettes can get rid of the taste of milkshakes and cherry chapstick caught on his tongue, and the inside of his car smells like stale rainwater and cum. And yeah, it’s always smelled a bit like sex, but now it smells like your sex and it’s different.

Billy doesn’t love you. He knows that for sure, because he doesn’t want to scream at you and he doesn’t want to get married, and that’s the only things he knows for sure about people who are in love. Although he knows it’s not supposed to be like that, he’s aware that despite the nickname you’d given to him, he was no Prince Charming. He was Neil Hargrove’s son, and the only displays of being in love he knew came from Neil and his mother. Neil, who’s fists sounded like thunder to young Billy, even when he hid behind the couch or under the table; his mother, who called him when he was ten years old to tell him that she wasn’t coming home. When he asked her when she would come back, she said not ever. That, he knew- that wasn’t love, but it was what Billy knew. And he was doomed to kiss with his fists and scream and be angry and blame everyone but himself for the rest of his life.

So, no. Billy did not love you. But he wanted you, and the only thing he could come up with between indifference and love was the same term he used to describe Tommy when it came to Carol: pussy-whipped. And he hated it.

He came to this conclusion halfway through Monday morning, as he was leaning against the brick corner outside those double doors, reading graffiti that had been etched into the dumpster, probably with a paperclip or a cheap swiss knife. It was initials inside a heart- isn’t it always- and a crooked ‘72 that seemed like a last minute addition. He wondered vaguely if those people still loved each other and if they did, were they like Neil and his mom?

He’s already halfway through his first cigarette, holding the smoke in his lungs as long as he can with every drag. The door swings open and Billy can’t stop the anticipation of seeing you step out to meet him.

“Hey,” you said.

Billy smirks. “Hey.”

Your face is tinted pink, and Billy can’t tell if you’re cold or blushing. Maybe both. “I wasn’t sure you’d be here.”

His heart sinks just the slightest. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Your lips press into a thin line and Billy already knows the answer. Because you already fucked me. What more could you want?

Truth was he didn’t come here for cigarettes. It would be easier to sit in his car, cranking up the heat and the stereo and blowing smoke out the thin crack in his window, than to stand in the bitter cold and wait for the beautiful girl that he absolutely would never love.

“So I was thinking—“

“Friday night was—“

You both stop, grinning stupidly. Billy’s cigarette is smoldering, dripping to the ground, and you haven’t even zipped up your jacket yet.

There it is again. That “shut the fuck up and enjoy each other” silence that Billy had never even heard of before you.

“My, uh, my dad,” you start, shoving your hands in your pockets and rocking back on your heels. “He works late on Fridays. Every week.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You bite your lip, and Billy briefly imagines taking it between his own teeth instead. You don’t offer up the question, but Billy answers it anyway.

“You inviting me over?”

“If you want.” You shrug. “We could pop some Jiffy-Pop. Rent a video. Ignore both of those things in favor of catering irresponsibly to teenage hormones.”

He knows it, now, how whipped for you he’s starting to become because he nods, that wolffish smile on his lips, and he leans forward to kiss you like it’s the most normal thing in the world. But it isn’t, because Billy Hargrove doesn’t go back for seconds and he doesn’t love you and he definitely, honestly, really doesn’t ever want to.

The faint sound of Jiffy-Pop snapping over the stove is almost enough to distract you from looking out the window. You’d been glancing out every few minutes, hoping to catch the flash of the Camaro’s headlights coming down the dirt road. It’s twenty after six, and Billy had agreed to be there by six-thirty, but there’s still a feeling of unease in your gut as the minutes tick by.

It wasn’t as though you actually expected Billy to show up. At first, you had been excited at the prospect of seeing him again- outside of the space you and Billy had claimed at the school. You’d caught sight of him a few times in the halls, now hyper-aware of him in ways you had not been before. You knew where his locker was, that he was on the basketball team with Steve; you knew where he liked to park the Camaro and who he spent his time with in between classes.

He’d become aware of you, too. He lingered at his locker just a bit longer after third period, when you would walk by on your way to chemistry. He knew which books you took home and which stayed in your locker; he knew that you liked to go to the library instead of lunch and that you stayed after on Wednesdays to tutor algebra.

But as the week went on, you’d become weary that maybe you had been imagining the magnetic pull between the two of you. That maybe Billy thought the sex was good, and maybe by Friday he would decide it wasn’t that great after all. That maybe he would just not show up and that come next Monday, he’d be a distant memory.

Three sharp raps on the door brings a grin to your lips, and it takes an embarrassingly short time for you to get to the door and wrench it open. Billy turns his head from where he’d been eyeing the kitchen window, smile widening over his face. “Hi,” he says.

“You’re here.”

Billy’s brow raises, his eyes trailing over you. “I am here.”

The breeze carries through the house. Billy looks expectant, and you shake your head, blinking, and move out of the doorway. “Shit, sorry- come in.”

Billy follows after you, moving slower as he takes in his surroundings. There’s a table by the door, the surface covered by three beer cans, two coffee mugs, two ashtrays and a plate. Nearby is the box television, facing a red armchair that has jackets thrown over the back and a couch that looks like it’s been slept on by a bear. More beer cans dot the coffee table, and Billy vaguely wonders if they’re yours or the Chief’s.

The smell of slightly burnt popcorn guides him into the kitchen. He hovers in the doorway, his eyes linger briefly on a child’s drawing pinned to the fridge before they drop to the dining table (the only one so far without any cans) where a stack of three VHS tapes bring him further into the room.

You glance over your shoulder, turning the stove off and putting the popcorn on the table as Billy picks up the tapes. “How’d I know you’d pick at least one sappy chick-flick,” he teases, holding up the copy of Grease.

“What can I say- I’m a sucker for a happy ending.”

Billy’s tongue runs over his lip as he puts the tape back down, moving deliberately toward you. It startles you, how he’s able to take such predatory steps and, although you want to let him come up close and put his hands in your hair and kiss you madly, he’s able to force you to take steps backward until your back hits the kitchen counter.

He bares his teeth with that smile that takes up his whole face, his eyes sparkling darkly as he looks down, towering over you. His body presses you against the counter, the wood digging into the small of your back, and his hands come up to grasp your waist.

“What a coincidence,” he mumbles, grip just a bit tighter as his lips graze your earlobe. “So am I.”

You yelp when he lifts you up, more surprised than hurt, and he sits you down on the counter and sneaks between your knees. Only then does he finally kiss you, the same way he had in the rain that first night. It’s hot and messy and entirely too much teeth, but the sheer ferocity leaves you needy. Here’s the wolf you had been so worried about, the one growling in your ear and digging his claws into your flesh.

Your clothes have barely hit the floor when he slides into you, forcing a moan up your throat. Your legs squeeze his waist, pulling him closer with each hard thrust. The edge of the counter nips at the underside of your thighs. Billy’s hands slide under them, pulling your legs just a bit higher, hitting you just a bit deeper with each unforgiving slam of the hips. It’s enough to uncoil the spring in your belly, enough to burst the lights in your vision, enough to make you think that maybe the connection you’d felt was real.

Billy’s forehead hits your shoulder, eyes squeezed shut as your hands pull at his hair, and when he comes, he almost hurts. Not the kind of pain he’d felt before, where his groin is too tight or his muscles flex just the wrong way, but the kind where he doesn’t remember how to breathe until your legs loosen around his waist, your hands let go of their vice grip and turn into soothing strokes, and Billy thinks he could stay like this forever.

He’s just got his breath back when he looks up at you, that boyish charm back on his lips and he kisses you one more time. “So, Grease, then?”

@william-hargroves @killer-queen-xo @sallyp-53 @cloverrover @scud994 @nighttwingg @yaidothat @abiwebb12 @camillewester @vespertxne @potatoheadthewise @tearsforhan @leedelee14 @crowned-gemini @ericuhlorain @frozenhuntress67 @chloe-skywalker @thatpunkmaximoff @elishaletterman @winchestersister55 @captainstilinskis

#billy hargrove #billy x reader #billy hargrove x reader #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things

119 notes · View notes

aion-rsa · 3 years

Text

From Bridgerton to Hamilton: A History of Color-Conscious Casting in Period Drama

https://ift.tt/2IQI6Ak

Note: This Bridgerton article contains no book or series plot spoilers.

Bridgerton is a unique mix of Shonda Rhimes’ dedication to Black representation on American television and the British period drama tradition. White critics may dismiss this trend as unnecessary “pandering” to Black and POC viewers, but the number of productions designed around reforming all white-casting has increased over the past 10 years—and has only added to the success of the genre. The number one reason driving demand for diverse period dramas is from Black and POC fans of the genre. The impact of seeing an actor that looks like you can’t be measured in ratings or clicks online. Despite facing years of content and fandom overtly or covertly claiming that the universal themes in period dramas are not “for us”; the tide is starting to turn as fans use social media and the power of ratings to ask for more representation.

A quick overview of recent Regency England-set productions leaves much to be desired. Although the 2018 Amazon Prime/ITV miniseries and the 2005 movie adaptations of Vanity Fair left in West Indian and Jewish heiress Miss Schwarz, she is one of many supporting characters. PBS/ITV’s Sanditon, on the one hand, improved representation by prominently featuring Georgiana Lambe. However, her story was a huge disappointment to Black and POC fans who expected her plotline to end happily or at least have her conflicts resolved.

There have been three paths traditionally towards increasing diversity in period dramas: 1) blind casting (also called racebending), where Black and POC actors play traditionally white characters adding original Black characters to existing fictional works, and 2) Own Voices, where Black and POC writers share their own stories. These two are not mutually exclusive, but, in the world of British period drama, the former is more frequently used, as the bedrock of the genre is adapting existing novels and plays by white authors.

The theoretical framework for inclusive casting begins in the world of staging period drama at the theater. In Shakespeare’s day, men played women’s roles as women were not allowed to appear on stage. The genre evolved in later centuries to allow women to appear on stage, but the tradition of having actors who didn’t match the original descriptions remained. This is even true of his history plays where real women royalty were characters. Ira Aldridge in the 1840s was the first Black actor in Britain to play traditionally white roles on stage. Later on, in the 19th century, several stage adaptations of Jane Austen’s works had all-women casts.

Fast forward to 2015, when Lin-Manuel Miranda in Hamilton redefined what it meant to cast inclusively in modern period dramas by using actors descended from slavery and colonialism to play the Founding Fathers. Every aspect of the musical was designed to reframe the existing narrative of early American history. The costume design also reflected the identities of the actor by featuring braids, locs, and textured hairstyles over 18th century white hairstyles. Rap lyrics conveyed to the audience the names, dates, and other descriptions of the Revolutionary War. The old adage that someone must “look the part” to play a biographical role was thrown out the window.

Hamilton proved that many of the old excuses used to sideline diverse period dramas no longer held to be true. Millions of white people listened to the cast album, brought tickets, or streamed the movie on Disney+. UK theater patrons flocked to the West End cast of Hamilton, as well, before the pandemic. Memes, parodies, and more on social media proved that white audiences can conceptualize historical figures as fictional characters while also knowing the real figures looked and acted quite differently. Fans of the show pushed Ron Chernow’s biography back onto the bestseller lists as they wanted to read what really happened.

The first clear impact the show had on the genre of British period drama comes from a mystery. Daisy Coulam, Grantchester’s head screenwriter, cited reading an interview with Miranda as the inspiration behind the exit plotline for James Norton’s character Sidney Chambers. UK crime dramas For those unfamiliar with the series, Grantchester is a mystery procedural based on a series of books about a 1950s crime-solving Anglican vicar by James Runcie. Norton’s exit plotline in Season 4 generated an original to the show character named Violet who was the daughter of a visiting African-American preacher. Violet was an original character who forced the audience to consider that the US civil rights movement indeed reached their treasured vision of the lily-white British countryside. Coulam already laid the groundwork for Violet in earlier seasons by abandoning large sections of the original novel timeline and but keeping the case of the week focused on addressing 1950’s social issues. Fans heavily criticized Coulam’s writing for style and pacing, but her imagination clearly indicates that Hamilton’s proven formula for disrupting established historical aesthetics can just as easily be applied to fictional depictions of the UK’s past as blind casting a biography-based series or depicting real figures of Black British history.

Other period dramas released in recent years share traces of Hamilton’s impact but in a more thematic and less direct different way. Some shows turned real Black British figures into fictional characters. Lina (Stephanie Levi-John) and Oviedo (Aaron Cobham) on The Spanish Princess are composites of Catherine of Aragon’s servants and several famous Black Tudors. Catherine “Kitty” Despard (Kerri McClean) in Poldark Season 5 was a forgotten Black British figure added in to expand the world outlined in the novels. Victoria featured Ira Aldridge (Ashley Zhangazha) mentioned earlier, plus spotlighted the Queen’s adopted daughter Sarah-Forbes Bonetta and Cuffay (C.J. Beckford) as the leader of the proto-socialist Chartists. Lucille Anderson (Leonie Elliott) on Call the Midwife was not mentioned in the original memoirs, but she was added to represent the Caribbean nurses from the Windrush Generation of UK immigrants.

Racebent casting also increased. Dev Patel’s role as the title character in the movie The Personal History of David Copperfield proved that Dickens adaptations could indeed include POC casts without changing the fundamental plot and message. PBS/BBC’s Les Miserables miniseries also extended the Broadway tradition of casting Black actors in traditionally white coded classic literature characters. Hulu’s The Great featured Sacha Dhawan and several Black actors as Russian nobility, politicians, and courtiers.

All of these series, however, carefully attempted to stay grounded in recreating the original source material or invested in faithfully replicating the era they were set in. Bridgerton radically expands upon Hamilton’s formula by divorcing inclusive casting from any desire to accurately recreate historical events, eras, or figures. Romance, fantasy, and social/familial drama are universal themes that don’t depend on having a white-dominant vision of society. Quinn’s original novel series sparingly referred to historical events during the Regency Era. Her focus was on creating a world where the most important events were balls and weddings. More Dukes and other holders of inherited titles exist in her vision of the Ton (the most elite members of Regency society) than in reality. Historians would likely dispute her characterization of the elite social season as well. Characters’ internal dialogue is in modern English peppered with regional accents and slang. They rarely lampshade or criticize the way of society beyond their romantic desires and family obligations. Readers see the physical intimacy on the page Austen never mentioned. This literary environment is ripe for inclusive casting on screen.

The most critical flip in characterization is Simon, Duke of Hastings (Regé-Jean Page). His character is the romantic hero of the first book in the series The Duke and I and is the character that set fan expectations high for future novels. Simon having visibly African features and yet being an object of desire is incredibly subversive in a genre where white beauty standards dominate hetero and homosexual fiction.

Lady Danbury (Adjoa Andoh), Simon’s godmother, is an elder stateswoman and a twist on the battle-ax aunt trope popular in period dramas. She isn’t as caustic and insulting as some other famous widows and spinsters but she commands authority and a mansion filled with people to perform all the hard labor. Lady Danbury is even implied to be slightly higher in status than her white counterparts with children of marrying age Lady Violet Bridgerton (Ruth Gemmell) and Lady Portia Featherington (Polly Walker).

Queen Charlotte (Golda Rosheuve) being played by a biracial woman is actually a subtle Easter Egg to existing history debates. Many have debated if her portraits were airbrushed to disguise African features. A few years ago, a documentary established her African ancestry is via the Portuguese royals. All of her scenes involve petting her Pomeranian, demanding to know the latest gossip, and manipulating the gentry into doing her bidding.

The miniseries doesn’t end the racial diversity with those at the highest social rank or even at the lower orders of domestic servants. Marina Thompson (Ruby Barker) is a cousin of the Featheringtons and represents the “poor relation” character popular in stories based on the British gentry. A Black modiste (dressmaker) trained in French fashion makes all of the dresses the characters wear. Will Mondrich (Martins Imhangbe) is a boxer, likely a reference to former slave turned bare-knuckle boxer Bill Richmond. Alongside the characters with plot lines viewers follow, there is a conscious effort to hire Black and POC extras to fill in crowd scenes at balls, park scenes, and other public events. The viewer sees people who look like themselves in every class level of society and can feel like they too can become part of their world.

How Bridgerton Can Avoid Outlander’s Mistakes

By Amanda-Rae Prescott

Books

Bridgerton: Cast Announced for Shonda Rhimes Netflix Series

By Alec Bojalad

Attire is a critical part of upholding the fantasy and cultural diversity Bridgerton and also in communicating to the audience the series isn’t your aunt’s neutral tone Austen adaptation. Marina and Lady Danbury would never be caught dead in a plain white muslin frock. All of the popular Regency hairstyles for women have been modified and reworked for natural textured hair, braids, and locs. Some of the Black male extras even have modern African hairstyles left in tact. The only Black characters who wear the traditional white wigs are older men or servants in full formal uniform. Queen Charlotte’s Black courtiers and servants wear a mixture of extravagant 1770s and 1780s attire and Regency court wear to create a physical separation between them and the rest of the ensemble cast. These style decisions are right out of the playbook of Still Star-Crossed, Shondaland’s first foray into period drama. Although that series took place in 1300’s Italy, the priority was on blending fantasy and Black fashion aesthetics over catering to white costume enthusiasts and reenactors.

In the world of Bridgerton, slavery and colonialism are directly or indirectly referenced exceedingly sparingly. One reference is to Lord Dunmore’s army of emancipated and runaway slaves during the Revolutionary War proclamation. (Hercules Mulligan’s Black troops referenced in “Stay Alive” is the Patriot equivalent of Dunmore’s forces). These sparing hints make it clear to the viewers that class, family, and personal family drama is the root cause of joy and pain in this series.

Since Bridgerton is completely ignoring the physical descriptions of the characters in many cases, the set design carries the bulk of the attention to historical detail. The series hired Dr. Hannah Greig as a historical advisor to ensure these details were as close to 1813 as possible. Greig has previously acted as a consultant to the Sanditon, Poldark, and The Duchess cast and crew is likely where the Easter Eggs in character references come from. Lavish mansions and castles and the more humble spaces ground the fantastical plot details in historical reality. Several previous period dramas have recreated the Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens, but these scenes in the miniseries are elevated to the next level thanks to Netflix’s budget.

Noughts + Crosses: Why You Should Watch This Afrofuturist Alternate History Romance

By Amanda-Rae Prescott

World on Fire Returns People of Color to the Dunkirk Narrative

By Amanda-Rae Prescott

The success of Bridgerton applying color-conscious casting to a fantasy/romance series has implications far beyond potential future seasons. Studios especially those in the UK have been hesitant to utilize recent historical romance books for screen adaptations. Modern historical fiction by Black and POC authors (called Own Voices fiction) which is crucial in the fight for increased representation. Novelists such as Beverly Jenkins, Courtney Milan, and Alyssa Cole have written romances set in the Regency and other eras of American and British History that can easily be transformed into movies and miniseries. Some of these novels recreate existing history while others lean into escapist fantasy. The ultimate goal in period drama representation is for Black and POC creatives to tell their own stories covering all the ranges of emotion, not just historical trauma.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

Critics can keep attacking period dramas for being “too woke” (a term that was stolen from anti-racism activists) for remembering that white people aren’t the only inhabitants of the British Isles and America, but series like Bridgerton are here to stay. Black and POC viewers and readers of period drama and romance fiction always existed, and viewership will only grow if more inclusive period romance projects are greenlit in the future.

The post From Bridgerton to Hamilton: A History of Color-Conscious Casting in Period Drama appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/3mjLv8v

#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

10 notes · View notes

thegirlintheredchair · 3 years

Text

BOOK REVIEW: LOVE LETTERS TO THE DEAD BY AVA DELLAIRA

Hello everyone! Yes I have resurfaced from the depths of my busy life to bring to you a pending book review of a book I read in August 2020. Don’t at me cause A) I did get really really busy B) even when I had time I was just too lazy to take pictures C) I love odd numbers and needed three points so…

Lets just get on with the review before I start rambling.

P.S : Lowkey obsessed with this pen This will be in all my future posts now. Heads up!

Look at this book! Gorgeous cover, love the beautiful purple Sky.

Magnetic name: “Love Letters to the Dead.” You can already imagine some morbid fantasy! *sigh*

It just looks like a book that would leave you a sobbing mess. A book you cried a storm over because the story was just raw pure grief and you were so attached to the characters and what they went through!

It is NONE of those things!!!

The premise looked so promising: it basically starts as an assignment where you write a letter to your favorite person (dead or alive), and Laurel turns this into a year-long project. Writing in stunted sentences and then busting out philosophical metaphors about life. Her nonexistent grief for her sister and how she pines over a guy called Sky and shoplifts wine with her friends.

This is how the entire book is written:

Dear Famous Person,

You are amazingly cool because *insert a bunch of random facts about the said person that are easily google-able*. You left the earth too early but even though your dead, I think you’re life is far more interesting. You spend a part of it living out your dream on unicorn wings or angel dust or something.

I spent the day in high school with my “too cool for school friends” and then I went home to my very sad dad who watches baseball re-runs cause he lives his dream through them.

I saw into Skys soul cause “There is something fragile like moths inside of him, something fluttering. Something trying desperately to crowd toward a light. May was a real moon who everyone flocked to. But even if I am only Sky’s street lamp, I don’t mind.” SKY! More Sky. A BUNCH of EXTRA SKY. God, SKY is the universe.

Yours,

Laurel.

P.S oh and my sister died or possibly committed suicide. But we’re not going to talk about that. In fact, I’m going to tell you zilch about my sister or what happened on the night off.

I’m going to keep mum about everything inclusive of the events that led up to it. Because SKY and the moths inside him are far more important than my sister or what I went through.

??????

*whispers* the entire book follows this pattern *eye twitch*

You get it, right? Do you get that this book is pointless? Like it is trying to deal with a lot of heavy topics like suicide, loss, grief, molestation, etc #TriggerWarnings but in the dullest way possible. The letters have no substance. 75% of the letters are about Sky. 15% about her female friends who skirt around their feelings. Another 5% each about her family (sad dad, run away-mom and church-going Aunt Amy) and her cool older friends. Is that 100% complete? Did I mention her sister? Whoops, I forgot? Just like the author!! There is literally a 0.2% mention of her sister.

I’ve tried to sum it up in bullet points:

Annoying Protagonist: Laurel is about as interesting as a brick. She reminded me a lot of Bella in the sense that “every guy in school liked her” and thought she was “pretty” and she was too unaware of it! Also, Laurel made decisions or lived her high school life based on peer pressure. She did nothing unless she was dragged along for the ride, much like Bella Swan. Laurel was also a little like Laura jean because she was naïve and innocent. But Laura still had character whereas Laurels personality is nowhere to be seen. She does stupid stuff with her friends (like shoplifting wine or asking random strangers to buy it), cause she just wants to be loved really badly. But like no one pays attention to her cause she is not her sister !?!?!!? If this book aimed to relay an annoying teen with zero personality, then job well done!!!

The Romance: even though 75% of her letters are about Sky and how he is so cool, he hung the moon cause he’s the “Sky” (I am not sorry for that extremely bad pun), there are zero sparks between the two! He is a cool loner that can’t be bothered with girls, but Laurel is the one for him. Ugh! Teenagers, I guess.

Trauma: there is no grief over her sister’s death. Like I literally felt nothing. The epilogue of the book was the only piece of writing that stirred something in me. Like laurel is so passive about her grief to the point that she just never talks about it! Like why would I want to read a book about that? Also, some horrible things happen to Laurel on Mays watch, and that’s why she offs herself or whatever, but TBH I could not sympathize with her. Hell, even the secondary characters were dull.

Final Verdict: This book was pointless, pretentious, and manipulative to the point that it was trying too hard to get an emotion out of the reader. The inconsistent writing from 10-year-old fangirl to 20 something philosophy about life did it for me. Also annoying protagonist, I just can’t with a book then. That remains one of my biggest book peeves…

Recommend to no one ever! Good day! Hope you enjoyed this rant!

#bookreview #booklr #love letters to the dead #ava dellaira #2stars #pagesofsilver #pagesofsilverreviews #poetry #books of tumblr

3 notes · View notes

dc41896 · 4 years

Text

Happy New Year!

HAPPY NEW YEAR GUYS!!!! Hope this year brings unlimited success, an overabundance of positivity, and growth to all of you :)!! So this is a combination of an idea I had with a prompt idea submitted by @lovelymari4 who mentioned the reader going to Germany and running into Florian. Hopefully you, and everyone who reads this, like what I came up with!! (P.S. If you guys ever see me use the same name twice for different imagines, my bad I forget the names I use sometimes lol)

Pairing: Florian Munteanu x Black Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2,171

“Y/N! Take our picture in front of this fountain please?,” your best friend, Daya, asks posing with her boyfriend Zeke. Taking pictures of the couple was pretty much your job during your trip to Germany seeing that you were the dreaded “third wheel”.

Not that you really minded being the third wheel, both Daya and Zeke were your close friends and times with them were always fun. Well, fun in those times when you weren’t feeling the effects of being single. Seeing that it was New Years Eve, everywhere you guys went had decorations and flyers advertising about parties and how you didn’t want to be stuck at home alone.

Plus walking around a foreign country viewing beautiful statues and historical landmarks as the snow lightly fell around you made you wish that you could share that experience with someone like how Daya and Zeke were.

“Alright, I took multiples so hopefully you guys like them,” you answer, standing up from your squatted position as you hand Daya her phone back.

“Thanks Y/N! And I trust you, you know my angles unlike someone,” she answers tilting her head towards Zeke.

“Hey I take good pictures! You just don’t like them.”

“Right so are they really good pictures then?,” she asks, squinting her eyes as if she’s trying to figure out an answer to her own question.

“I mean the ones I take of myself get a good amount of likes so I would say so,” he counters with a smirk as you laugh at their discussion.

“Yea yea whatever. Y/N do you want some pictures too?,” she asks.

“Nah not this time, we can keep going-,” you start before being cut off by someone bumping into the back of you, causing you to stumble forward before being steadied by your friends.

“Um who the-?!,” you thought as you turned around to see who (or what honestly) hit you. Seemingly towering over you, you’re met with a muscular man wearing dark jeans, Nike’s, and a leather jacket lined with a soft material covering a black long sleeve shirt. His brown beard was soft and just as thick as his body, while his green eyes seemed to capture your soul, but not in an intimidating way, like you wanted to keep looking into them for as long as you could.

“I’m so sorry! Are you okay?,” the mystery man asked in a deep, accented voice, slightly bending down to look in your eyes.

“No you’re fine! I mean fine like you don’t have to apologize because I’m fine not because you’re fine. I mean you are but-,”

“What my friend is trying to say is that she’s ok,” Daya answered looking at you amused by how you were acting.

“Yea that.”

“That’s good. I was recording a story for Instagram and my friend here failed to notify me in time that someone was there. I know very dumb and again I’m really sorry,” he replies, cheeks slightly red from embarrassment.

“It’s ok, just maybe don’t try to post and walk at the same time. Especially with people around,” you softly laugh, along with him and your friends.

“I’m Florian by the way, and this is my friend Leon,” he introduces as his equally fit friend moves forward to shake all of your hands.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Y/N and these are my friends Daya and Zeke.”

“Nice to meet you guys. Well, we don’t want to hold you up from what you guys had planned next, so hope you guys have a great day and Happy New Year!,” Florian smiles.

“Thanks and Happy New Year to you guys too!,” you smile before you and your friends turn to continue your sight seeing. After only a few steps, you hear Florian calling your name as he jogged to catch up you.

“You dropped your um…lip gloss?,” he states handing you the small tube and making you smile.

“Yea lip gloss and thanks, this is my favorite one so definitely don’t want to lose it.”

“And we wouldn’t want that to happen. I mean not we as in us, like I know you like it and I think it’s pretty and probably looks good on you too-,”

“It’s ok I know what you mean,” you giggle as he softly chuckles. There’s a small silence between the two of you. With his hands in his pockets as he slowly shifts from one side to the other, you could tell he wanted to say something else, but something was stopping him from getting whatever it was off of his mind.

“Hey I don’t want to seem creepy or anything, which honestly that statement in itself probably makes it creepy so this already isn’t going well,” he begins, pausing to laugh to himself and mentally grateful that you laughed too. “I was wondering if you and your friends had plans for tonight? Because if not, me and Leon are going to this party for New Years, and a bunch of our other friends are gonna be there, so you guys are more than welcome to join.”

“Um thanks that’s really nice of you to invite us! I’d have to ask them first though to see what they might be thinking.”

“Yea of course! Definitely think about it and I’ll give you my number so I can text you the address and everything if you guys decide to come,” he smiles as you pull out your phone. You had to admit watching his giant hand type on your phone was pretty funny. He didn’t have any problems maneuvering through the screens and buttons, but still the sight of such a bulky man with this small phone in his hands was quite a look.

“Amused by a huge man such as myself holding this small phone?,” he asks with a smirk giving your phone back. While you could hold in your laughs, the look on your face was plain as day to what you were thinking.

“A little, but not like in a bullying or ‘making fun of’ kind of way I promise.”

“It’s alright, my friends tease me about it all the time. And speaking of friends, it looks like yours may be having a very aggressive discussion.” Looking over your shoulder, you see Daya and Zeke’s hands going back and forth as both of them try to prove their point on something probably pointless.

“They’re probably arguing over where to eat. Let me go break them up before they bring anymore attention to themselves,” you sigh. “Thanks again for my lip gloss and I promise to message you about the party.”

With a wave and a final goodbye, you both went your separate ways. You, giddy from having an experience straight out of a romantic comedy and Florian feeling just as excited, hoping that he would see you again tonight.

______

Lightly spraying perfume around you, you walk out of the bathroom in your dark high-waist skinny jeans with black stiletto booties paired with a fitted, long sleeve, black turtleneck. Yea it was probably simple compared to the glittery cocktail dresses you were sure to see around tonight, but you were not about to risk pneumonia going out in this German winter.

“Aww look at our little girl all grown up!,” Daya gushed making you shake your head.

“Come on D, lets not embarrass her on her first date,” Zeke smiles wrapping his arm around Daya.

“Ok, both of y’all need to calm down, last time I checked I am grown up and this isn’t my first date. Now if you’re done mom and dad we need to head out before we’re late.”

“Ok, but not before we take a group picture!,” Daya smiles before reaching her arm up to make sure all of you were in the screen and snapping a picture of your smiling faces.

Arriving at the hookah lounge that Florian sent, you see the man himself standing outside now clad in a red hoodie, dark jeans, and a different pair of Nike’s. The street light above made his thick, gold chain gleam more so than it already was as he occasionally shifted from one side to the other with his hands behind his back.

“Hey, you didn’t have to wait out in the cold for us,” you greet as the three of you walk up to him.

“I know, but it’s easier this way so I can show you where we’re sitting versus trying to text it to you,” Florian responds with a smile.

“Woww thick, sweet, and looks like Hercules reincarnated? Sis marry him or I will!,” Daya whispers to you while you all follow him to the section him and his friends were seated.

“Can the man ask me out first? Better yet, can we get confirmation that he actually likes me?,” you whisper back, softly laughing at how your friend was basically trying to marry you off.

“What do you think this is?! Yea it’s not one on one, but open your eyes because he definitely asked you out it’s just in a group setting.”

Shaking your head, you direct your attention towards Florian as he introduces you to the rest of his friends seated on the plush couches. Meeting his crew made you truly understand the saying, ‘birds of a feather, flock together’ as all of his friends were equally as good looking and fit as he was. They also were just as nice immediately including you guys in their conversations and asking questions getting to know you.

Seated next to Florian, you both took turns talking with your friends and maintaining your own conversation. You found out he was an actor and lived in Germany, which would explain why he didn’t seem fazed when standing outside in the cold.

You also saw how down to earth and caring he was, which of course made you even more attracted to him and was something you didn’t want to happen. Not that you weren’t open to a relationship, it’s just long distance relationships were tough and came with plenty of challenges. That is if you guys became an actual item.

“Guys it’s almost time!,” Daya excitedly squeals, before joining Zeke at the bar to grab a glass of champagne.

“So if you don’t mind me asking, what’s something you wanna get out of the new year?,” Florian asks, green eyes seemingly hypnotizing you from how much attention he was giving you.

“This is probably gonna be really boring, but the basics as far as health, positivity, success. But what I’m most concerned about, is whatever is meant for me making it’s way to me for the next year, decade, and rest of my life,” you answer, twisting the stem of your own champagne glass between your fingers, making the liquid lightly swirl. “What about you?”

“Definitely more success and health, and I just hope to spend as much time with my family and friends as I can.”

Just as he finishes, you hear people around starting to countdown from 10 signaling that the New Year would be coming soon. Both of your groups stayed seated as the timer on the screens around went back from five and eventually got to zero making everyone yell out “Happy New Year!”

You hugged Daya and Zeke, before they turned to each other to have an infamous New Years kiss, which was on the minds of the other couples there as well. That was always the awkward part about New Year’s Eve parties. It seemed that everyone around you was glued to someone else’s face, while you stuffed yours with snacks.

Setting those thoughts aside, you turn to hug Florian and wish him a Happy New Year, to which he does the same; kissing you on the cheek and making you giggle as you squirm back a bit.

“Sorry, my beard’s a bit ticklish,” he laughs instinctively reaching his hand up to lightly graze his beard.

“No it’s ok,” you smile. In that moment, it was as if both of you were on the same wavelength as you both leaned in to meet the other’s lips. Lightly caressing your head with his hand, your hands find their way to his hoodie softly clutching the fabric as if to not ruin it. As you both pull apart, part of you is amazed at the fact that truly just happened while the other wishes it never stopped.

“You got some uh gloss on your lips,” you say, giggling as you hand him a napkin. Letting out a deep chuckle, he wipes the product from his lips before discarding the paper on the table in front of him.

“Is that the same lip gloss I handed you earlier?”

“Yea, why? You’re not allergic are you?!”

“No no! Don’t worry, I’m just thanking God that I gave it back to you,” he winks, causing that giddy feeling to well inside of you again, as all of your friends can be heard doing various wolf whistles and shouts around the both of you.

Taglist: @melinda-january @honeychicana @themyscxiras @fumbling-fanfics @lady-olive-oil @crushed-pink-petals @lovelymari4 @felicity-x0 @ellixthea @jojolu @jnk-812 @brwn-sgr @captainsamwlsn @nina-sj @itshinothey @wildfirecracker

If anybody else wants to be tagged, has asked to be tagged and doesn’t see their name, or only wants to be tagged for certain people I write for, just let me know! :)

#florian munteanu #florian big nasty munteanu #florianxreader #florianxblackreader #florianxWOC

169 notes · View notes

bubblywrites · 3 years

Text

Running From A Name Chapter 12

“Okay, okay, I’m coming! Don’t beat my door down!” Alma yelled. She rushed to the front of her apartment. She swung the door open, prepared to scold the person who beat against her door like a madman. Upon seeing the visitor, Alma lost the urge to unleash her anger. Sophia stood in front of her with two bulky bags in her hands. The bags had red, blue, and yellow fabric poking out from them. Alma assumed the bulges at the bottom of the bag were heel tips. When she took the bags from Sophia’s hands, her arms went limp. “What the hell is in here? The whole clothing store?”

Giddiness spread across Sophia’s face. “That is only a few of the things I wanted you to try on today. But because we’re pressed for time, I decided against it.”

A bead of sweat rolled down Alma’s temple. After working at the department store for two years, the company made Sophia a manager. Because of her managerial status, Sophia received huge discounts on all the items in the store. However, this meant Alma had to succumb to being Sophia’s personal dress up doll.

Alma side-stepped, giving Sophia room to come inside the apartment. Sophia searched the living room. “Where are your siblings?”

Alma shut the door with her foot. “I sent them to Marco’s. It was better to send them there since I’m going to be at the party tonight.”

“Good choice.” Sophia said.

She headed to Alma’s bedroom. Alma entered the room after her. She set the bags on the floor with a huff. “I wanted to choose something already in my closet for the party. I asked you to come over for a second opinion. Not bring a bunch of clothes with you.”

Sophia scoffed. “I love your sense of style Al, but none of the clothes in your closet were going to work.”

Alma put a hand to her chest. “What’s wrong with my clothes?”

“They’re too comfortable. Now don’t get me wrong. You have a good mix of hoodies, cute dresses, leggings, and fancy clothes. But none of it is appropriate for a college party.”

“What do you consider appropriate for a college party?” Alma asked, making air quotes.

Sophia dug through her bags and pulled out a blue dress. She tossed it to Alma and commanded her to put on the dress.

Alma changed into the dress. She stepped in front of the mirror. Her mouth gaped. The dress hugged her body in a tight embrace. It had a deep cut down the middle, revealing her cleavage. The hem of the dress stopped at Alma’s upper thighs. Alma feared people would get a peek of her ass if she bent at the wrong angle.

“You look so sexy. The boys at this party are going to be all over you.” Sophia gushed.

Alma tugged at the dress. “I can’t wear this. It leaves nothing to the imagination. I might as well walk into the party naked.”

“If you don’t like that one, I have plenty more for you to try on.” Sophia said as she yanked more dresses from the bags.

Alma tried on most of the dresses Sophia brought. Each one was just as raunchy as the blue one.

“Sophie, did you not bring anything normal?” Alma asked, peeved.

“I wanted you to wear something out of your comfort zone. Plus, you have such a great body. You need to show it off.”

“Not as great as yours.” Alma mumbled to herself. Sophia oozed with confidence no matter what she wore. She had every right to. Everything looked good on Sophia. Even more so since she cut her hair to shoulder length. Her bouncy red curls framed her face, highlighting her most attractive facial features. In heels, she towered over most men. But they still flocked to her like she was a majestic goddess ready to answer their prayers.

“What about this one?” Sophia held up a long sleeved black dress. The sleeves and upper chest were see-through. “This one is a little more tame than the others.”

Alma grabbed the dress from Sophia’s hands. She pulled it over her head and down her body. The dress was tight-fitting but looser than the ones she had already tried on. The bottom of the dress reached the middle of her thighs. Alma stroked her sides. She posed multiple times, checking herself out in the mirror. “This is the one.” Alma said.

Sophia clapped her hands together. “It doesn’t show too much skin. It’s classy while still being sexy. That dress is perfect for you.”

“Thanks.” Alma responded. I wonder what Bruno would think of this dress? Would he say it was cute or sexy? I’d really want him to say sexy. Alma’s thoughts caused to blood rush to her cheeks.

“What’s got you blushing?” Sophia asked smugly.

Alma turned to hide her face and muttered, “Nothing. Just thinking about something.”

Alma couldn’t see it, but she felt the sly smirk on Sophia’s face.

Sophia breathed out an exaggerated sigh. “Although he wishes it were him, I know my dear younger brother is not the boy who occupies your thoughts.”

Alma occasionally played along with Sophia and Manzo in teasing Giuseppe about his little crush on her (By playing along, Alma just sat next to Giuseppe attempting to look cuter). However, as they grew older, Giuseppe’s feelings for her became stronger. Alma stopped joining in on the teasing and set clear boundaries with Giuseppe. She wanted to respect his feelings towards her. Even though she didn’t feel the same. Time alone with Giuseppe could get awkward, but they were still good friends regardless. Giuseppe would find a nice girl who would return his love as he studied in Milan. Well, that’s what Alma hoped for him.

“So let me guess. The guy you're interested in is Signore Buccellati isn’t it?” Sophia asked.

Alma’s expression gloomed. “Yeah, it is.”

Sophia blinked a few times. “I did not expect you to admit that so quickly. Usually, you would have argued with me about it.”

“You were going to force it out of me anyway. I figured there was no point in denying it. I am curious how you found out it was Bruno.”

Sophia leaned back on her elbows. “I see the way you two look at each other when I go to the restaurant. Plus, you're the only one who calls him by his first name. And the only one he allows to call him by his first name. With that said, you don’t look too happy about your feelings for him.”

Alma sat next to Sophia. The bed groaned under her weight. “I don’t talk about my relationship with him for reasons. But, I feel like I should tell you this for context. When we were younger, Bruno and I promised to confide in each other. He’s been my closest friend ever since. You, Giuseppe, Manzo, and Angelo are all close to me. But with Bruno, it’s a little different. He understands me in a way nobody else can. Even with our promise, sometimes I feel like I’m not what he needs.”

Sophia placed her hand over Alma’s. “What makes you say that?”

Alma wanted to erase what she heard this morning-the conversation between Bruno and Miguel. She didn’t catch everything they said because she faded in and out of sleep. However, Miguel’s words she heard clearly. “If you started dating my sister, I don’t know if I would like you anymore.” His words struck something in Alma. A nagging realization she had been running from. She can’t get any closer to Bruno. The blood on his hands, his growing position in the mafia, and his teammates did not faze her. She would have avoided Bruno years ago if that were the case. She can’t get closer to Bruno because she can’t give all of herself to him. Guilt, pain, regret, and self-hatred were emotions that were tied together with memories from her past. Memories that Alma kept a tight lid on deep inside herself. No matter how close she got to someone, she could never allow those emotions and truths to be released onto them. Not Marco, her siblings, or Angelo. Not Sophia or Giuseppe. And not Bruno, the person she wanted to spend the most time with. The person she wanted to hold close. The person she swore to trust in.

Alma closed her eyes. In the darkness, the serpent that haunted her dreams stared at her with it’s demonic eyes. Her muscles tensed as it slithered around her body. Its words reverberated in her ears. “You’re a liar.”

So be it. For the safety of those around her, she would be a liar. This nightmare was hers and hers alone to bare.

“Alma, you okay?” Sophia asked. She squeezed Alma’s hand.

Alma opened her eyes. “I’m fine.”

“You never answered my question. Why do you feel like you're not what Signore Buccellati needs?”

Alma gave Sophia a fake smile as she told her a half-truth. “Because I can’t give him my undivided attention. I have a job, school, and my siblings to worry about. He needs someone who can be there for him more often than I can.”

“And he’s also dangerous. You know him better than I do so I can’t judge. If anyone can make a romantic relationship between the two of you work though, it would be you.”

Alma wished she could believe in Sophia’s words, but her lid needed to stay on.

Sophia got off the bed and stretched her arms. “I have to do your makeup.”

Alma patted her cheeks. “Transform me Sophie.”

“You look good. Ready to go?” Angelo asked enthusiastically.

Alma slammed the car door closed. “Yeah. But my appearance is all Sophie’s work.” Alma glanced over Angelo’s body. He wore a simple, blue button down shirt with a pair of black jeans and white sneakers. “You're dressed really casually. Didn’t feel like getting fancy tonight?”

“Absolutely not. I only dress fancy for dates and important events.”

Angelo drove to the university in thirty minutes. Alma could only see parts of the campus from where she and Angelo were. The campus was not anything special. The school consisted of white Renaissance buildings with black window frames. There was no greenery except for a few trees and bushes. If a foreigner came to Italy, they would think the school was part of the city. However, to Alma, the school was a castle. She was a princess ready to be drilled by her instructors to take on the art world.

The party was in one of the houses near the University of Naples’ campus. Upbeat music poured out of the house. At the entrance, people were holding red plastic cups. Some struggled to walk while others were hunched over vomiting. Before Alma stepped inside, a wave of heat hit her.

“Are all college parties this hot?” Alma asked, fanning herself.

“You’ll forget the heat is there by the time you start enjoying yourself. But to answer your question, yes.” Angelo responded.

Alma and Angelo moved through the crowd of people. Now that she was inside the house, the music boomed in her ears at a deafening volume. A group of boys waved at Angelo. He nodded at them then turned to Alma. “I’m gonna go hang out with my friends. You’re welcomed to come with me.”

The idea of hanging out with those boys was off putting. Angelo’s college friends weren’t like Giuseppe or Manzo. They gave off an uncomfortable vibe. Alma shook her head and said, “You can go along. I’ll be fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

Angelo gave her one last look before leaving to mingle with his friends and other students.

Alma had been at the party for well over fifteen minutes, but all she had done was tuck herself into a corner. She felt like a child amongst all these college students. The boys bodies were more built than the ones she knew in high school. The girls were only in their late teens and early twenties but looked like they had full on careers. Their revealing clothing made Alma appear as though she never finished developing. She blushed at the sight of couples sticking their tongues down each other’s throats as they fumbled up the stairs. The smell of alcohol made her nose tingle.

Someone tapped Alma’s shoulder. She whipped her head to them and met Angelo’s golden eyes.

“You look like a lost puppy. Come here.” Angelo grabbed her wrist, pulling Alma into the kitchen. He shoved one of the red plastic cups on the snack table into her hand.

Alma stared at the red liquid in the cup. “What’s in here?”

“A bunch of hard liquor. But its mixed with a bunch of juice and soda, so you can’t taste it.”

Alma drank alcohol before. Her and Angelo snuck into Marco’s personal stash multiple times during their nighttime adventures.

“That means this stuff is dangerous.” Alma said.

“You wouldn’t be lying. This stuff can get you drunk really quickly. But I suggest you drink some of it to loosen up a little. The people here aren’t much older than you are. So stop looking like they're gonna eat you or something. You’re not even that shy of a person.”

Alma sighed. “You’re right. I’ll go have some fun.” Alma drowned the entire cup. The liquid tasted like Angelo’s description-an amalgamation of different juice and soda brands. However, the burning sensation as the liquid went down Alma’s throat, reminded her that there was alcohol in the concoction. Alma rolled her shoulders as the liquor freed her from earlier anxiety.

Alma grabbed Angelo’s arm and dragged him into the living room. A fast paced song started playing. Alma moved her body to the beat of the music. Her dancing wasn’t the greatest, but it was good enough to get a couple of onlookers. Angelo danced better than she did. Each move Alma did, Angelo followed up with a cooler one. The other people at the party joined Angelo and Alma in their dancing. Her ears rang from the cheers and her own laughter.

During the dancing, a strange object caught Alma’s eye. In the corner of the room, a boy popped a fairy blue piece of candy in his mouth. Alma stopped moving. Everything around her stopped moving. Her stomach clenched. What is that doing here? How did it get here? Who’s...no.

Alma shuffled her way through the crowd. She reached the kitchen and drank another cup of the alcohol and juice mix. She drank another and another. She needed the alcohol to make her forget what she saw. She did not want to remember the horrors of that fairy blue thing.

The alcohol attacked her system. The intoxication mellowed her thoughts. A hand creeped onto her back. A husky male voice whispered in her ear, “Hey, you were the girl dancing just now? I think you’re really cute. Wanna go upstairs?”

The hand travelled to her waist. The man's touch made Alma’s body seize. He yanked Alma against his chest. Alma pushed against him in an attempt to free herself from his grasp. The man’s grip tightened in response. “Why are you struggling so much? I’ll be gentle. I promise.” His hands roamed her back. The path of his fingers were like burning venom under skin. The serpent’s eyes flashed in her mind. When she gazed up at the man, Dino’s face was there. Vile phantom touches from her memories became a reality. The room felt as though it was closing in on her. Alma’s breathing became ragged. She was on the verge of hyperventilating. She wanted to scream and hide. With one hard shove, she escaped the man’s hold on her.

Alma dashed out of the house. She ran. The university, the streets, and people were a blur, but she didn’t care. She continued to run. The fairy blue candy, Dino’s face, and the serpent were too much.

Alma’s heel broke, making her trip. Her face hit the pavement of the sidewalk, but she didn’t feel it. The alcohol created cracks in the lid storing all of Alma’s most hurtful emotions, memories, and truths. The pain from them overpowered any bruise or scratch from smacking the sidewalk head on. People walked past Alma probably assuming she was some drunk. Good. She didn’t deserve nor want their sympathy. She deserved to have the serpent crush the life out of her. Even so, she yearned for someone to comfort her. She wanted her father and mother. She wanted the warmth of their presence to remind her she was going to be okay. But they were gone. And so was their warmth. The only warmth she wanted now was Bruno’s.

But Bruno didn’t need to see her this way. Broken and drunk. However, Alma’s actions contradicted her thoughts. She reached for her phone and dialed Bruno’s number.

“Hey Alma. What’s up?”

Her words came out in choked sobs. “I need help. Please Bruno. Please help me.”

“Alma where are you?” He asked frantically.

Alma glanced at the street signs and told him the address. He came to her in a hurry. Bruno pressed an arm against Alma’s back and hooked his other one under her legs. He hoisted her up and placed her in his car. Alma’s mind fogged for the entire car ride. Bruno drove to her apartment. He carried her inside and sat Alma up on the couch, but her head fell in his lap. He stroked her hair. His voice was soft and full of care. “What happened? Are you okay?”

Alma’s body curled into a fetal position. She started shaking. “I was at the party. I was having fun. Everything was fine. But too much happened. The fairy blue, the guy forcing himself on me. I just needed someone.”

Bruno’s legs tensed under her cheek. “Some guy tried to force himself on you? Where is he?” Bruno seethed with rage.

Alma didn’t need Bruno angry. She wanted to see his smile. She needed to feel his arms around her. Bruno didn’t need to know what lied in the darkest parts of her mind. His obliviousness to her true self was enough. Because if he knew her true self, she would never be able to have him in her life. Alma rose from Bruno’s lap. Her watery eyes bore into his compassionate blue ones. Alma leaned forward and pressed her lips against the corner of Bruno’s mouth. Bruno couldn’t have all of her. She couldn’t give him (Y/n). But she could give him the parts of herself she was proud of. She could give him Alma.

#Bruno Bucciarati #Bruno Buccellati #bruno buccellati x reader #bruno bucciarati x reader #jjba fanfic #jjba part 5

2 notes · View notes