#this is about me watching buffy as a teenager
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Dean Winchester x F!SLAYER!Reader
Title: “A Hunter & A Slayer.”
Character(s): Dean Winchester x f!Slayer!Reader, Sam Winchester, Bobby Singer mentioned.
Warnings: Mentions of smut, not enough to be considered smutty. Pregnancy is talked about.
*I do not own pictures, nor the characters. Slayer is based off of Buffy, but it’s not Buffy if that makes sense.*
When Dean was dragged to hell by a hellhound, it felt like my lungs had collapsed. My heart was ripped in two, and it felt like my soul had been torn from me.
I watched Sam hold Dean’s lifeless body. All I could think about was Dean’s last words to me:
“Listen to me. You are going to be fine. Live your life, baby. I’m going to be okay.” He said with tears in his eyes. I turned my gaze away from him.
Deans hands cupped my cheeks as his thumbs caught my tears. “Look at me, Y/N. Please.” He pleaded with me, until my eyes looked into his. “You are one of the best things that has ever happened to me. Who would’ve thought a slayer and a hunter could be together.” He said which a sad chuckle. “The day you laid me out on the cement, that was when I knew I’d end up falling in with love you. Even though you had a wooden stake near my heart, it turned me on in more ways than one.”
I smiled and he brought my forehead to his lips. Dean pressed his head against mine, “I love you.” He said as he ran his fingers through my long hair. “I know I didn’t say it as often as I should have, but I love you. I love you now and I’ll love you even when I’m dead and gone. I will always remember your eyes, your smile, and your hair.”
Before he let me speak, he pressed a firm, loving kiss to my lips. “Take care of Sammy.” He whispered, and those were the last words I heard, before my world stopped.
—
Sam cried over his body, “No…No…No, Dean.” Anger had taken over my sadness, and I marched out the front door, and climbed up into my jeep. I slammed the door shut and started the ignition. But before I could put the Jeep in drive, Sam pulled open my driver side door. “Where are you going? Wait for me to get Dean and we-we can go.” He said and I shook my head as I clipped my seatbelt.
“Sam, go get Dean. Take him to Bobby. I will be there as soon as I can.” I said wiping the hot tears from my cheeks. Sam wasn’t stupid. He knew me just as well as Dean did.
“No. Where are you going? Are you seriously going to sell your… this is what got us here in the first place, Y/N.” He couldn’t bring himself to say the word. Soul. I stared at the road in front of me. “They will take it in a matter of seconds, Sammy. I’m the slayer. I have pissed off a lot of demons, and they would love nothing more than to drag me to hell.” I whisper and Sam picked up my hand.
“Dean wouldn’t want you to do it, Y/N. He- he loved you. He would be angry that you would book yourself a one way trip to hell.” He said and I couldn’t hold my tears back anymore.
“I can’t live without him, Sam! He is and will always be my first love. I can never love anyone like I loved Dean! My teenage years got ripped out right from under me- I’m the slayer! I’m supposed to do this for the rest of my life, and he understood me. He understood me better than anyone.” I say as I hit the steering wheel with my fists, and Sam unbuckled my seat belt and pulled me out of the Jeep. I started kicking the side of it, “If anyone could have stopped that demon bitch, it was me! I was strong enough!” I said as my hand went through the glass of the rear view mirror.
Sam grabbed me from behind and held my shaking body. “I didn’t even get to tell him he was going to be a father.” I said out of breath, and Sam fell to the ground, cradling my body, as I cradled my bloodied hand.
His silent tears had turned into sobs, and he buried his face in my hair. We mourned his death on that ground, for more than an hour. Sam was the one who had to load Dean’s body- I couldn’t bear the thought of seeing his body torn and mangled.
Instead, I got into my Jeep, and I bundled myself up in Dean’s leather jacket. It still smelled like him, and that entire ride to Bobby’s— all I could do was cry. My baby was going to be fatherless, and I was going to be alone. How was I going to do this? Be a slayer and be a mother?
The two worlds didn’t mesh, and it would never work out. I have to go through this alone. Sammy and Bobby would be there, but I needed Dean. If Sam wasn’t following right behind me, I would have found a cross road by now.
-
When we got to Bobby’s, it was like the wound was ripped opened all over again. The next day, Bobby had cleaned up Dean’s body and put clean clothes on his body. Sam took off Dean’s amulet, and he gave me his ring. I put Dean’s ring on a necklace and wore it every day after that. But then, the two men started arguing on what to do with Dean’s body.
“We need to give him a hunters burial. You know that Sam.” Bobby said.
“No, we need his body. We’re just going to bury him, and believe me, I will get Dean back.” Sam argued, and finally I had stood up from the couch.
“Let’s just bury him for now. If we want to salt and burn him later, we can. But let’s not argue. This is not the time or the place.” I say as I looked between Bobby and Sam.
Bobby scoffed, “You’re the calmest pregnant woman I have ever met.” He said as he turned around and held on to the back of the chair. “Fine. We will just bury him. Come on. Let’s go find a good spot.”
___
After that, everyone had spread far apart. Sam was somewhere in Illinois, and I went back to Texas. I found a good rental house, and started a new life in a small town where every one knew every one. My slayer duties went on the back burner.
Sam came down every time I had a doctor’s appointment, and held my hand throughout this new journey. At this point, I didn’t correct the nurses when they asked if he was the baby’s father. A new glimpse of hope had opened for Sam, and I had never seen him smile so big as he smiled at the tiny fetus on the screen.
It had been four months since Dean had died, and I was now five months pregnant. My belly was still small, but if I wore a tight fitting shirt, it looked more rounded and bigger.
Sam had left the day before and I had the day off from new job at a law firm. I hated having days off because my mind would go straight to Dean, and I would find myself in a depressive episode. The only comfort I could find was by wearing one of his old t-shirts. I had one left that still smelled like his cologne, and his scent.
I sat on the couch wiping a tear from my cheek, when a knock on the door startled me. I rubbed my face, trying to hide the fact that I was crying. When I opened the door, I took a step back.
“Y/N, it’s- it’s me.” Dean said as he took in my surroundings, and I continued to step back. I don’t know what hellish nightmare I was living it, but I didn’t stay shocked for long.
I ripped the “decorative” scythe off of the wall, and began swinging it. “Get back!” I shouted with tears running down my face. “Dean” held out his hands towards me,
“Baby, it’s me. I know this is probably freaky as hell, but imagine how I feel.”
I swung the scythe once more, and when he didn’t back up, I ran towards him. Quickly, I swiped the demon of his feet, and stood above him with the wooden end of the scythe pressed firmly where his heart was.
Staring down at the face that had been stolen, I couldn’t help but to choke back a sob. “You have to be a shifter.” I say through gritted teeth, and “Dean” held the end of the scythe.
“Baby. It’s me. It’s Dean. Just listen to me, before you kill me! Your full name is Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N.” When I started to not buy it, “Dean” started talking faster.
“You had long hair before I died, and before I died I told you that I wish I would have told you how much I loved you.” He whispered. “You have this small heart shaped birth mark on your collar bone. And uh, you make this sweet little sound when you get ready to..”
I dropped the scythe to the floor and I fell right on top of Dean. He sat up to where his back was leaning up against the side of my couch, and I wrapped my arms around his neck, and I wrapped my legs around his waist. I couldn’t stop the tears or my sobs that left my lips.
“Dee…. How..How could this have happened? How are you here right now?” My body was shaking, and his arms tightened around me.
“I’m trying to figure that out. All I remember is that it was lights out for me. And then strangely enough, these memories of me and you were floating around in my head, and bam, I was back.” He said, and I heard a sniffle come from him. We sat there in silence until his finger tips started combing through my hair. “Your hair…. Why did you cut it?” He asked, and I finally had the courage to look him in the face.
His green eyes were brighter than ever. He was beautiful- glowy, almost. “Because. Well, I don’t know. After we buried you, all of these emotions- I just couldn’t stand myself.” I said, and I looked up at him.
I had to be honest with him. Because what if one of those demons snatched my soul and I didn’t even know?
“I tried to make a deal. With a crossroad demon. Sam told me not to, but one night, I just couldn’t take it anymore. I needed you.”
——
The red eyed demon circled around me, with a proud smile on his face. “A slayer. Making a deal with the likes of me. So uncommon, and rare, might I add.” He said as his fingers ran through my hair. “A beautiful little thing. No wonder, why Dean was so fond of you.”
I pulled away from his grasp. “You know why I am here. Are we going to make a deal or not?” I asked, and the demon tsked. “Of course. But that pretty little soul of yours will only have seven years with Winchester. So is it worth it? I swear with you people, it is a never ending cycle.” He said with a smirk. “Can you imagine the glory and applause I will get when I drag a pretty little slayer to hell?”
Before I could agree to the terms and conditions, another demon showed up, but this time in a woman’s body. “Oh Claudius. What are we doing here with her?” She asked looking me up and down.
“Making a trade. Her slayer soul for Winchester.” He said, and she shook her head. “Are you stupid?” She asked and the Claudius shook his head. “I’ve been in the game longer than you, Tabitha. I know what I’m doing.” He said through gritted teeth.
Her sharp cheek bones sucked in, and she gave him a devilish smile. “Oh, really? You do realize that after she’s dead and gone, another slayer will take her place, right?” She questioned and Claudius took a step back from me. “I didn’t think so. Now come on. Pack it up and let’s go. We have other people dying to sell their soul.” Tabitha said.
Before I could even protest, they disappeared and I was left alone. In the dark. Alone. With a feeling of loss. And guilt.
___
After I finished telling Dean what happened, he sat there staring at me. “What the hell is wrong with you?” He asked, and I was taken back by his question. “Dean, you would’ve done the same thing for me.” I said, and he stood up and sat me down on the couch.
“This is the whole reason we were in that mess in the first place. I don’t want you to ever experience what I went through.” He said, and his eyes were filled with terror. “I couldn’t live with myself, knowing you sold your soul, only to get me for seven years.”
I stood up and pulled a small picture out of a book on the coffee table. I handed it to Dean, “Maybe not. But this baby would’ve given you something to live for Dean.” I said and Dean’s fingers held up the picture.
He fell back onto the couch, and his hand rubbed against his cheek. “You’re…You’re pregnant?” He asked and I nodded with tear filled eyes.
“I found out the day before… before we lost you.” I say and Dean got up and pressed his lips to mine. This kiss was different from his “I’m back” kiss. This kiss was hungry, full of adoration, and want and need.
He held my neck firmly, and I started to get weak in the knees. The four months he was gone, felt like an eternity, and the smell of his cologne clouded my senses.
Dean lifted me up off the ground, and I knew the drill. I wrapped my legs around his waste; slowly he pulled his lips away from mine. “Where’s the bedroom?” He asked.
“Down the hall, last door on the right.” I say and he grinned.
“Why Texas?” He asked and I shrugged. “This is where you kissed me for the first time.” I say and his lips slammed against mine again. Dean was good at multitasking; he kicked the bedroom door opened, then closed it behind us.
He pressed my back up against the bedroom door, and my legs were still wrapped around him. I removed his band t-shirt, exposing my breasts, and Dean let out a groan. “Seeing you like this never gets old.” He whispered against my lips.
Dean switched between opened mouthed kisses, and nipping at my neck. His hands massaged my breasts as he took each nipple between his fingers.
Slowly he pulled me away from the door and laid me down on the bed. “You’re wearing too much.” I said as I stood on my knees and helped remove his t-shirt.
When the t-shirt was discarded to the floor, I was shocked to see his bare chest. The scars that littered his chest, were no longer there. He was new. There was one scar in particular that I would kiss, because he always stated how ugly it looked.
I still pressed a kiss to where it used to be and he smiled. “I’m good as new, baby.” He said and I ran my fingers through his hair, and pressed another kiss to his lips.
I couldn’t get enough of him. If I could sit here and kiss him forever, I would. This was my version of heaven. Him. All I need was him, and my life was perfect. His hands snaked around my bare back, and he laid me down, climbing on top of me, with one knee between my legs, and the other on the outside of my body.
He kissed from my cheek, to my lips, all the way down to my belly button. Then he quickly pulled away. “What’s the matter?” I ask, and I look down and he’s staring at the very small bump.
I smiled and grabbed his hand and placed it on the bump. Deans eyes were bright, and he was in shock. The shock had finally sat in. “Dean are you-”
His look of disbelief had turned into a smile. “My God, you are beautiful. This really is happenin’, huh?” He questioned and I smiled up at him.
“Yeah—yeah, I guess it is.” I replied and he hovered over me, holding himself up on his left arm, while his right hand remained on my belly.
This kiss he pressed to my lips, was even more gentle than the ones before that. “Who would’ve thought. A hunter and a slayer. Having a baby. You and I, we’re having a baby.” He whispered with the biggest smile on his face.
His forehead was pressed to mine- and I was taken back to the tears that rolled down my cheeks when he told me to take care of Sammy. How was this my reality? I wondered, and my hand traced up to his left bicep.
Dean hissed at the feeling of my palm, and I removed my hand and looked at his bicep. A red hand print was burned into the skin, and my hand went to my mouth. “What happened?” I asked, and Dean looked back down at me.
“I don’t know. When I crawled out of that pine box, it was there.” He said with a look of disgust. I sat up and I pressed kiss to the red mark.
Dean looked at me and smiled. “I love you, Y/N.” He said and I pressed a kiss to his lips. “I love you more.” I said back and his cheeks turned red.
“I’m fixing to show you how much I love you.” He said with a chuckle, and as he pulled down my sweatpants he asked, “This isn’t going to hurt the baby, right?”
I laughed. “No. It won’t. Now come here, we have four months of catching up to do.” I say and Dean mumbled, “More like forty-years..”
I didn’t question what he meant by that. I was just happy to have Dean back in my arms. Who would’ve thought; a hunter and a slayer. Having a baby.
——-
I hope you guys enjoyed this random Supernatural x reader! Maybe a part 2 on how they met? 👀let me know in the comments!
#dean winchester x reader#dean winchester#Dean#sam winchester x reader#sam winchester#dean winchester smut#supernatural
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Achievement unlocked: discovered piece of media at exact right time in your life to experience maximum peak emotional impact and infatuation
#tv shows#movies#this is about me watching buffy as a teenager#and absolutely sobbing#fandom#relatable#textpost#love seeing the media people tag this as it’s nice#also person who tagged Megamind realest response I watched that movie 21 times in a row as a kid#oh god my new piece of media was not what I expected oh no oh god will not be saying its name
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I started watching TW season one again (the only one I actually watched so far 😂) and once again I'm just amused by the plotholes and discrepancies and things they show or say once and never refer to or use again, as well as the technical side of camera shots and cgi - and I'm only in episode 5 so that's a record if you ask me.
(Nevermind that me picking at threads already started with eposiode 1 😂)
Disclaimer: As I said I've never watched that much of the actual series even if I steal the characters to write! Also I'm definitely biased due to the fandom, wiki entries I read and so on. So take all this with a grain of salt! It's mostly stuff I was amused by so if I have it wrong - well. I have it wrong, I guess.
Anyway. On to my observations:
(this got long, so I hid them under the readmore)
Sorry to all the people who like scott, but... he's so boring <.< WHY is that guy the main character? EVERYONE else would be more interesting just from a storytelling point of view! Give me Finnstock, Danny, the Sherrif, or any of the other main cast and just get rid of Scott as main POV <.< please.
It's so funny that they tried to make it some kind of horror tv show. I actually recognize classical horror movie scenes, camera shots that should invoke a certain fear or surprise but they somehow manage to put it in such a context that I laugh because I recognize what they want to do and it just doesn't work.
Might be a me-problem because I like watching horror films, but... it's still very sad.
Stiles says he once had a boa. I asked the internet and it told me boas in zoos can get about 28 years old... Stiles is 16.
Stiles... Stiles, what did you do with your boa?... STILES....
The scene where Stiles and Scott talk through video chat (and is that AOL? Those were AOL-icons... was AOL still alive in 2011? <.<) and Derek stands behind Scott... it's just... why did Scott stare at the screen instead of turning around? Nevermind that he read what Stiles was writing out loud and that Stiles's message was written in such large letters that probably anybody standing 5 miles away could have read it - nevermind the guy Stiles thought was standing behind Scott.
Also: why did Derek just... stand there. Especially once he was sure he'd been seen...?
I know that's also one of the Horror-esque scenes I mentioned but the timing of it all was so bad! (also also: Scott is just stupid <.<)
They use this weird alternative 'sight' for werewolves in the beginning (the scenes colored in red) and it feels like they use that in the first few episodes and never again after that <.<
Another weird scene:
The game where Scott wolfs out and Jackson stays back and finds Scott's glove with holes where Scotts claws came out.
I just... have so many questions...
1) Why did Jackson stay back after not only his own WINNING team but also the audience, the enemy team, coach finnstock and ANYONE ELSE who was probably assigned to clean up the field? He even was still in his own lacrosse gear so he stood back to take up a glove a person who'd cleaned up the field should have taken with them?...
2) Why the fuck was Derek staring at him? <.<... or rather, why was he staring at him for so long so Jackson even looked at him? Did Derek even see the whole game? Why did he let Jackson see him? It's not like he tried to scare him into staying silent, for that his staring wasn't nearly scary enough <.<... it's just... another weird composition. Especially since Jackson and Derek have nothing to do with each other <.<...
Scotts dream where he killed Allison in the bus that mimicked how Peter/the Alpha killed the bus driver.
Even though later it comes out that he was there and tried to keep the Alpha from killing the guy, this dream is just one instance where they try to 'show' Scott's 'connection' with the Alpha. Correct me if I'm wrong, but the connection he has with Peter is the one and only time we see such a connection between an Alpha and a Beta, I think. I mean the whole "I dream of things the Alpha did" and the whole not remembering/blacking out due to instincts and Alpha?
Also, Scott was apparently was hurt/slashed by the Alpha's claws. How come that wound was healed the next morning? I thought wounds caused by an Alpha heal slower? <.< or is that a fandom thing? <.<
I want to hug Derek. Hard.
Poor boy drives to a town he got traumatized in to help his sister/Alpha where she ALSO gets killed and all those stupid teenies do is blame him for her death, for their problems and for anything else the new Alpha did - especially the other killings - so he gets locked up by the Sherrif and when he gets out that stupid pup has the gall to search him out just to - again - blame him for all of his problems and even for the death of his sister and the bus driver <.<...
On that note: I think Derek said he came to find his sister/meet his sister. To me it sounded in that moment as if he hadn't known she was dead when he arrived and that confuses me...
Also: shouldn't he also have a connection/pack bond with the Alpha if he wants to or not? Or does a pack just fall apart when the old Alpha dies until they've submitted to the new one? <.<
And doesn't that mean that Derek's currently a packless Omega? <.<...
Aaand there's another horror film track shot classic that sends the camera from Derek and Scott to the outside of the Hale house where the Alpha is waiting/his eyes are glowing in the dark.
... So why didn't the Alpha go to them? Or did he just... sit there and stare at the house until Scott leaves? If the Alpha runs on instinct why didn't he try to get to Scott or Derek - especially after Scott left - when he is trying to get Scott and Derek to accept being part of his pack? <.<...
Kate drives into town without stopping and the Alpha attacks here somewhere in town. Close enough to Scotts home that he sees her shortly after she shoots her shotgun twice when the shots were what woke him up.
1) did the Alpha smell her through her car and the fumes? <.<
2) did he just stumble over her car while running through the town?? <.<...
3) if not, did he follow her from the outside into town? why didn't he attack her there instead of somewhere quieter? <.<...
I'm still confused by the whole Derek clawed Jackson in the neck and it did something to Jackson-stuff. Especially because Derek's not an Alpha yet <.<...
And finally just a quote from Derek that amused me for potential fanfic reasons when Scott asks why Derek can't just track the Alpha as a human: "Beause his human scent could be entirely different" <.<
#teen wolf#sei's brain bubbles#just me watching TW and blubbering about it#I still can only watch these episodes in increments#and I'm mostly skipping through the Scott/Allison-stuff#because they're getting on my nerves so much#especially Scott is just so stupid...#and I know - 'Teenager' - but I can still watch Buffy without any problems#and the main characters there are also mostly teenagers in the beginning!
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Kim you a Kamen Rider fan
Uh, no? Don't think so.
Name sounds vaguely familiar... one of the other clowns around here might be acquainted with it.
I didn't really watch too much TV as a young kid? I liked to mess around with my kit or go fuck around in the forests, for the most part. I started watching stuff more in highschool and college.
Some stuff I enjoy, or enjoyed, off the top of my head- Batman: The Animated Series, Are You Afraid of the Dark?, Buffy the Vampire Slayer... There are definitely more things that I watched, but I'm not sure what all I really stand by enjoying... sometimes, you just watch something because it's so weird it fascinates you, ya know?
#ooc: name sounded familiar so i went to look it up. kinda get the impression that it's probably not something she watched- partially due to+#+ runtime/reception i think. unless i misread something#ooc: LOOKING UP SHOWS THOUGH I MIGHT BE GOING A LITTLE UNHINGED... SOOO MANY THINGS I WANT TO GIVE HER...#ooc: I DONT CARE IF ANY OF THESE MAKE SENSE ACTUALLY IM GIVING HER MY MEDIA TASTES THEY KINDA ALIGN. FUCKING. BITE ME.#((ooc: the last comment is about Dinosaurs. if you are unfamiliar. look it up and then stare at the costumes for a minute syckdhdkhfjfh))#(ooc: fun pine facts! my family has that series as a DVD set and has for Many Years now- so that IS a show i watched as a kid actually)#(ooc: i did also watch buffy- though i only watched B:TAS more recently)#(ooc: someone has a hc in the discord that scott went to college to be a cartoonist- so her watching it is partly just i see no reason she#+cant be into animation and partly maybe Scott could've watched it? ik he's more of a marvel guy but the animation is good- he could have +#+ watched it just for that! and kim would have indulged him and actually come to quite like the characters maybe)#(ooc: also i love are you afraid of the dark... i havent seen very much of it but i own one of the dvd sets and i was OBSESSED as a kid. +#+ loved it more than goosebumps but i could never find any more CDs :( so if anyone knows where i can watch it online--)#(ooc: also! i havent watched it so idk if Kim would- but Sabrina the Teenage Witch. thoughts?)#ooc: also she watches Futurama because I fucking said so. i take no criticism.#ooc: it we want more things i could see her watching maybe ask abt specific ones! i could give her thoughts on them maybe#ooc: use them as an excuse to rewatch some stuff maybe xycifkchfbf#pine.txt#asks#rp#kim pine#sp comic#spvtwtg#spto#spvtw#janstaratthedisco#not in standard continuity#?
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I already feel like I have so many btvs opinions that no one would want.
#examples: 1.) fixated on Xander. my little guy with his little outfits and hes been through so much 2.) hate buffy/angel with the so much#energy and therefore can't stand angel too. besides getting into how it is a realistic portrayal of an older man preying on a teenager#it also is just literally illegal. anyways 3.) after watching the scene where faith sexually assaults & tries to kill xander and everything#else she does following i like. do NOT know if I will succeed at feeling much other than rage at her#she seems compelling and like a character i could like but the problem is the narrative cares more about her spiralling than xander so 😬😬#also I find willow boring so far which isnt an indictment against her but that anti lust spell she was going to cast#on xander without his knowledge 😬😬 also idk if ill ever forgive giles for drugging Buffy#also buffy is a sweetheart but it frustrates me nearly always her emotions are the only ones that get weight#also i think that spn .uh may jabe had it right with make every monster a guy#ALSO the bigotry within the show and fundamental flaws are very similar to spn levels (though I know someone who agrees there ckskkz)#also i do think this show would hit different if you watched it as a teenager. THEN id be an angel guy THROUGH AND THROUGH#tortured poor little meow meow AND an IRISH vampire?#and faith was made for young me. for id have been obsessed.#but now i just look at them like ☠️☠️ stop please#incoherents#btvs#buffy#s.a
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.
#man it is so rough to follow someone because you like their star wars opionions#but every time they talk about buffy the vampire slayer its the most absolutely rancid take I've ever seen#like admittedly they watched the show as a teenager and got latched onto a certain perspective way back when#but i have had to witness posts from them such as 'angels redemption story is actually the best and most accurate ever'#and 'spike is a victorian colonizer which is why he only kills slayers of color and also he's lying about slayers having a death wish'#what an absolutely boring reading of the show!!#like yeah spikes character is inherently racist the entire damn show is inherently racist#name me one character of color that isn't some brutally murdered cultural caraciture and/or near hated by the fandom#not to mention i think its pretty well established that buffy does have a death wish through season 5#which is further elaborated on an expanded through season 6#i think the slayer death wish is compelling!! it's interesting!! it's tragic!!!!!#saying 'actually no spike is an unreliable narrator' like I can see your point (with a heavy dose of death of the author) but its so boring#it simplifies buffy and the slayers and puts too much glitter on their horrible sacred destiny#also like fine spike is a colonizing british victorian dude#but then we're gonna have to have a really long conversation about giles
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The bathroom scene from Buffy the Vampire Slayer still stands out objectively as just one of the worst things in a show or movie.
The idea of reminding the audience that Spike is a villain doesn’t work that deep into the narrative, but even then there were a million other ways to display him being evil or morally conflicted, ways that didn’t involve a out of pocket attempted rape scene.
Place aside filming it made both actors uncomfortable and both to this day are still pissed about the entire thing and how bizarre and random it was.
The scene didn’t have weight. It was sudden and gross and hellish and then sort of slowly became just this thing. Nothing about it was handled well narratively speaking.
Plus it being what drove Spike to end up accidentally receiving a soul. Other than temporarily driving him insane with guilt a soul made no major difference in Spike as a person. Spike had never been a good vampire, he wasn’t good at being a man in the era he was born into and he wasn’t good at being a vampire.
As a human he was gentle and shy and soft and lovely. Traits that had him mocked and teased and pushed out, seen as “strange” and “unmanly”. Then we see him as a vampire and he’s unique as Dru is unique, he is beyond capable of love. This man, this monster fucking loves intensely and it is his biggest trait as soon as he is introduced.
He is nothing like Angel. Angel as a human was a rude sexist drunk and a bit of a prick. Angel as a vampire was as demonic and horrendous as any monster could be, even with Dru he drove her insane then turned her, he can pretend he loves her just to toy with her, but he would kill her if she proved useless to him. Being cursed with a soul is solely the only thing making him a “good” person. Every time he loses his soul he is dangerous.
But Spike isn’t like that. Even before being chipped, even before the soul he was complicated and complex, he was protective and intense and emotional.
The show if Whedon hadn’t been insistently bizarre about Spike could have explored so much that was already laid out. What does a soul even mean? What does it mean if Spike sand soul is capable of compassion and guilt and love and kindness? That he can break down sobbing when Buffy died, that to honor a promise to a dead woman he watched after her teenage sister? What does it mean that Angel without a soul uses every kindness and softness Buffy and Giles and others showed him against them? That her vulnerability becomes something he can torment her with.
What does a soul mean or matter in this case? Is Angel a good person in any real capacity? His soul given to him as a curse is genuinely the only thing making him be good. And there is something about that that makes Angel terrifying as a character for me. Don’t get me wrong I love Angel good or evil, I love him more in Angel the series, but in general it is difficult to really take him necessarily as good.
While Spike on the other hand is more in line with a human, he isn’t good or bad. He is traumatized and hurt and angry and in love and so human despite having a demon soul.
And these complexities could have been explored. Not a pull it out of left field sexual assault scene.
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Without Hesitation, Yes.
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader
Summary: After all these years, Dean finally asks you to marry him.
Word Count: 2.6k
Warnings: Cursing (3x)
Authors Note: Flashbacks in italics | I love me a good childhood friends to lovers story | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡
Dean had known you for as long as he could remember; first meeting you through Bobby. He had met you in the late eighties, when he couldn’t be more then 9 or 10 years old. Bobby introduced you as his daughter – not biological, adopted; but he still considered you his blood nonetheless. From the moment he laid his eyes on you, he felt an instant connection to you; the two of you becoming partners in crime very soon after your first meeting. Even when him, Sammy, and his dad were on the road, he still made sure to keep in contact with you, telling you everything and anything. He would tell you how gross the motel room was that they were staying at, the diners that they would stop at on the way to their next case, and even about their current case – sometimes asking you for your input.
Although Bobby was your adoptive father and you would help him do research for cases every now and then, he had never actually wanted the hunting life for you. But not being in the life was never an option for you; it was something that you had always wanted to do. So, when Dean Winchester showed up on your doorstep in October 2005 saying that his dad was missing and needed your help, you dropped everything, packed a bag and left; even though your father didn’t want you to go. He was mad at you for leaving, but understood that it was something that you needed to do; not only because the Winchester’s were like family, but because he could see the way you and Dean looked at each other – something that he tried so hard to prevent.
For as long as Dean could remember, he always felt something for you; but he never fully knew what that feeling was. He was between three different options for a while: he actually had a crush on you, he only had a crush on you because Bobby told him “Don’t even think about it boy” or he only had a crush on you because you were the most consistent woman in his life. One of the first moments he began to try and pinpoint which of the three it was, took place when the two of you were teenagers. Everyone was sleeping and it was just the two of you up. You had somehow convinced him to watch one of your favorite movies Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Even though it wasn’t his thing, he didn’t mind watching it with you because he had thought that Kristy Swanson was hot – but he didn’t dare tell you that. He had remembered how the two of you snuck downstairs to watch it, the two of you making popcorn and grabbing two sodas from the fridge. Dean remembered how engrossed you were when watching it, sometimes quoting from it or even acting out some of the scenes. He could still remember something that you said to him, even though it had been more than 20 years. “When I grow up, I wanna be just like Buffy.” For some reason, you saying that had brought a smile to his face.
There were a few instances in his life when he had planned on telling you how he truly felt about you before the two of you had started dating. But each and every time he had thought about telling you, he would back out, because he didn’t want to ruin one of his longest friendships. Before he went to Hell, he almost broke and told you, but he told himself that there was no way he could do that do you despite the fact that he knew that he was never going to see you again. The last thing he wanted was to tell you that he loved you and then die, and now you had to spend the rest of your life wondering, “What if?” A few years later right before he was going to say yes to Michael, that is when he decided he was going to do it. He had no idea why he had thought that was the moment, but his feelings for you just poured out of him like a dam that had burst. “I’ve loved you for a long time Sweetheart. Ever since we were kids. There are so many times when I’ve wanted to tell you how I felt but…I didn’t want to ruin the friendship that we had. I…I didn’t want to lose you.” For a moment he had thought that you wouldn’t reciprocate his feelings but to his surprise you did. “Took you long enough you idjit.” You told him, kissing him soon after that. “After I go into the pit, I want the two of you to have a normal apple pie, white picket fence life together. Do the whole nine. Marriage, kids, PTA meetings. All of it.” Sam had made the both of you promise. The two of you did have some sense of normalcy for the year – the best you could anyway, but kids, marriage, and definitely PTA meetings weren’t on the table at that moment. Someday though maybe.
Dean loved you more than anything or anyone. You were his best friend, his favorite person, the one that he could always count on; and most importantly: the love of his life. He never thought he would ever get the chance to ever call someone that: the love of his life. He had only heard the term once or twice during his life, mainly hearing it from Bobby and his father. Over the years, Dean had thought that he was in love before, but it wasn’t until he had a relationship with you that he truly would know what being in love actually felt like. The other times he had thought he was, he was in love with the idea of the person, in love with the idea of being in their world – a world that he knew he didn’t belong in. With you, it was different; effortless. He didn’t have to hide any aspect of himself in order to please you. You weren’t afraid of him, even when he was afraid of himself at times.
There was a part of him that knew that he didn’t deserve you – you weren’t as broken as he was. Yes, you had lost just as much as he had, but you were somehow stronger than he could ever be; which is one of the things that he admired most about you. When things got tough, he would hid behind a bottle of Jack and a mountain of self-loathing and sarcasm. Meanwhile, you continued to carry your head high and carry on like it was just another Tuesday with the boys or just another case. The only time he had ever seen you completely break is when Bobby died.
A few weeks before his insanely close near-death experience where he almost lost to a rusty rebar fighting vampires, he had went into town with Sam to go and get you an engagement ring. Even though he knew the type of jewelry that you liked, getting you an engagement ring was a completely different story. He went back and forth for hours trying to find you the perfect ring. “Dude, just pick something. She’ll love whatever you get her.” Sam had told him. It was in that moment that Dean’s eyes landed on one that he knew that you would absolutely love. “I’ll take that one.” Dean said, pointing at the ring in the case.
A month has gone by after his close near-death experience, and proposing to you is something that he no longer wanted to put off. He didn’t want to spend another day, another hour, another minute without seeing this ring on your finger. You had told him once a while ago that you didn’t need an engagement ring; that all he had to do was ask you to marry him and then the two of you could go to the nearest courthouse that same day. He truly loved the thought; but he had wanted to do something more for you than that.
Dean held the ring in his hands and couldn’t wait to give it to you. The only problem that he was currently having though, was trying to figure out exactly what he was going to say to you. “Still trying to come up with a speech there Romeo?” Sam said, his voice sounding a bit amused.
Dean eyed him, placing the ring down on the kitchen table. “I have no freaking clue what I’m going to say to her.” He admitted. “I don’t want it to be a chick flick moment, but I don’t want it to sound too generic either.” For the past several days, Dean has been trying to come up with a good proposal speech for you, but each and every time he thought that he had something, it simply just left him. Yesterday, he had even started writing the speech down, but kept crossing out everything that he wrote because he hated the way it looked and sounded.
“Word of advice? As someone who was going to propose…” Sam sighed a little at the memory; still briefly remembering exactly what he was planning on saying to Jessica. “Just be honest. Tell her…tell her all the things you love about her. Why you fell for her in the first place. You know things like that.”
“I said no chick flick moments Sam.” Dean picked up the ring again and started spinning it around on the table, momentarily forgetting that the ring before him was a couple grand and not something he just picked up at the Gas n’ Sip down the road.
“Then don’t make it one.” Sam walked over to Dean and placed his hand on his shoulder. “She’ll love whatever you say to her. I mean, she’s stuck with your dumbass this far. Nothing you can say now will make her run.” Sam gave him a smirk, and Dean just rolled his eyes.
“Bitch.” Dean said.
“Jerk.” Sam replied.
You were doing what you normally did on a Sunday morning – doing some yoga in the Bunker gym. Ever since you and the boys had made the Bunker your home, you had found yourself attracted to yoga; something that you initially didn’t like until recently. Bobby had tried to get you into it – weirdly enough; saying that it would be good for you. You had told him that you would only do it if he did it with you. “I already get pedicures with you, I ain’t doing yoga too.” He said.
As your eyes were closed and you were currently in Lotus position you heard a small knock on the door frame of the gym. You opened your eyes and a huge smile sprawled across your lips. “Hey you.” You said, your voice calm.
“Hey beautiful.” Dean replied, walking into the gym with you. He pointed to the spot in front of you. “Can I join you?” You were slightly surprised. You had tried to get Dean to do yoga for a while, but he always said that it wasn’t really his thing – he left the yoga portion of the workouts to you and Sam.
“I thought you’d never ask.” You scooted back a bit, giving him just a little bit of room so he wasn’t so close to the door.
Dean sat down in front of you, trying his best to get in the same position as you were currently in. Fuck I’m old. He thought to himself as he crossed his legs, feeling just a little bit of pressure in his knees. “You don’t have to sit like that if you don’t want to my love.” You told him. “I’m happy to just have you sitting here with me.” Your comment sincere.
“I uh, I wanted to talk to you about something.” Dean’s sentence made your heart jump. Not only because of the abruptness of it, but because it sounded like a ‘We need to talk’ conversation. Conversations like these were never your favorite – Hell, you didn’t know anyone who had liked these types of conversations.
“What’s up?” You asked, trying your best not to sound nervous while replying.
“Don’t worry. It’s…it’s nothing bad.” Dean reassured you. “Um…Well, it could be. But…I personally don’t think it is. So, I’m hoping you won’t think it’s bad either.” He sounded like a school boy trying to talk to his crush for the first time; you found it adorable. “Do you, do you remember when we were kids and Bobby would always buy you these ring pops from the store?”
“Yeah…Why?” Of course you had remembered. “One day I want a ring this big!” You told Bobby. “Not if you marry a hunter you won’t.” Bobby laughed.
“I remember, I don’t know if you do but, I remember when we were like…I don’t know, ten? The two of us were playing upstairs in your room and I took the ring pop and put it on your finger and I asked you to marry me. And without any kind of hesitation you said yes.” Dean started smiling from the memory. “Oh Dean! Of course I will! Why wouldn’t I want to marry my best friend?” You said. “You then ran out of your room, leaving my ass behind and ran all the way downstairs where you told Bobby and my dad that I had asked you to marry me. “Look daddy! Uncle John! Dean asked me to marry him! We’re gonna get married!” Bobby had told you years later, “I knew you and that idjit were gonna fall in love. I saw it when you were youngins.”
“Dean –” You began.
“Y/N.” Dean positioned himself so he was now sitting on both of his knees, holding both of your hands in his. “I honestly don’t know what I would ever do without you. Out of everyone that I’ve known in my life, you have been the one consistent thing in it. You have always been by my side even when I know for a fact that I didn’t deserve it. A lot of days, especially in the beginning when we first got together, I didn’t think I deserved you. I thought that you deserved much more than someone like me. Someone that could provide you with the life that you deserve; a safe and quiet one, not one where you’re constantly running toward the things that want to kill you.” He let out a small chuckle. “But, I’ve realized over the years that…Sweetheart, we may not have the most conventional life but, we have each other, and that’s really all that matters.” He released one of your hands for a moment as he reached for something in his pocket. “Close your eyes for me.” Without hesitation you closed them. The second you did, you felt something being placed in your hands. “Okay. Open.” When you opened your eyes there was a red and black ring lying in your hand.
“Dean…” You looked down at the ring and then looked up at Dean, unsure of what to say. For the first time in your life you were utterly speechless. You got up, getting in the same position as Dean, holding the ring in your fingers. Placing your hands on Dean’s shoulder’s, you leaned in and kissed him. You felt his hands and arms pull you in close to him as he deepened the kiss between the two of you.
“Will you marry me Sweetheart?” He asked, once the kiss was broken.
Without hesitation, like you had done all those years ago you said, “Yes.”
#Dean Winchester x reader#dean winchester x you#dean x you#dean x reader#spn imagine#spn one shot#supernatural imagine#supernatural one shot#spn#supernatural#reader insert#female reader
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Feeling really nostalgic about July 17-18, 2008, the last time I believed in Joss Whedon
It was just cool, you know? Doctor Horrible's Sing-Along Blog dropped in three separate pieces over the course of the week. We'd get 15 minutes of story, and then two days to froth over the whys and wherefores in Livejournal comments before the next piece came out. And those days were so good.
Buffy fans are so fucking smart, y'all. They could combine academic rigor with unselfconscious fangirl squee. Squee was a hermeneutical method, a mode of interrogating the text--one we often dismiss and diminish, because if there's anything grosser than teenage girls getting goopy over a vampire they like, it's 30 or 50 or 70-year-old women getting goopy over a vampire they like. But it's similar to what I've seen called a "redemptive reading". You approach a piece of media specifically looking for its best parts, the pieces you love the best, and you allow yourself to fully embody the joy of liking something and caroling your joy to other people who like it too. In a perpetually burned-out time, squee can be like a desert oasis.
So the people who liked Buffy and Angel and Firefly watched Doctor Horrible in a manner both squeeful and intersectionally feminist, and saw all the amazing interesting things it was doing, showing how insecure geek masculinity fundamentally self-sabotages the main character, Billy, because the relationship he wants has been there in reach for months, and it's his own perception that he needs to be an alpha male warrior that has kept him from it. It interrogated the entire genre of costumed heroes, with two men thumping their chests and comparing their dick sizes, and none of them doing anything as direct and helpful for their society as Penny, the woman who stands on sidewalks collecting signatures to help a homeless shelter.
Part II came out on July 17, and the series would end with Part III on July 19. So on July 18, I spent most of the day reading Livejournal comments about it. There were all these theories: Maybe Penny was secretly Bad Horse, the archvillain whose approval Billy has craved since the beginning. Maybe she will collapse the love triangle with Billy's rival, Captain Hammer, by acting on her clearly-demonstrated discomfort and dumping him. Maybe Billy will learn that relationships are based on intimacy, not being The Best. Maybe Penny will become a superhero and replace Captain Hammer as Billy's nemesis. Maybe Billy will succeed and rule the world and give Penny Australia.
And then... none of those things happened. Joss Whedon ended the series in a way less progressive, less imaginative, less cool, than even the most half-baked fan theory out there. The story opened up possibilities to break out of an old, tired, toxic set of stories around men and women and sex and heroics, and then hid under a rock rather than change a single one of them.
July 19 was the day I concluded that while Joss Whedon might have his own baggage to work through about toxic masculinity, and artists have the right to make work meaningful to them, he wasn't making art that was meaningful to me. And I basically stopped expecting anything of him.
And then, for years, Buffy fans, educated and squeeful feminists and sharp pop culture critics, got told they were crazy histrionic SJWs for thinking Whedon didn't shit solid gold. For years. (I recently saw a video essay that included the line, "If you have the phrase 'mewling quim' branded onto your memory, you probably need some Metamucil" and, ouch, rude.)
There was so much excitement! A lot of us actually believed in the guy (although even then, there was enough evidence for many people to suspect what we now know to be 100% true about him.)
We wanted it to be good. We wanted to enjoy it.
I miss that feeling.
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I hope you don't mind me asking, but what are your thoughts on angel x buffy? :)
Hii i don't mind, thank you for asking 😊
So, I used to love bangel sooooo much when i first watched the show. I was 100% into it, (with a crush for Boreanaz too) and i cried so much for them in s2 and when Angel left the show in s3. And I truly, sincerely, unironically hated Spike too (I thought he was a great character but i just loved hating him, you know? Lol). When we saw Spike's dream of kissing Buffy I swear i felt nauseous.
... and then they aired Fool for love.
By the end of that episode I was left in utter existential crisis in front of my tv because i felt my whole world shift. There was a part of me that still liked Angel and Buffy, but there was also this new part that wanted her to be with Spike now.
So anyway, that's when i decided to switch teams and i became team spuffy, and for as much as i had been obsessed with bangel before, it was nothing compared to how deep i was caught into the Buffy and Spike relationship. I never looked back. They were just much more complex and real and compelling. And it made me reevaluate Angel and her relationship with him too. Angel never really knew Buffy, always treated her like a child, and let's be honest--and that's something that hit me only years later when I got older--she was a child when they were together. He was spying on her and falling in love with her when she was just fifteen years old and he was a 240-year-old vampire who had been sired at like 26 years old, and they got together when she was 16/17 and he broke up with her when she turned 18... I don't think that's something the writers did intentionally of course, because (as everything else in buffy) it's just meant to be taken as a metaphor for the ideals and struggles and the intensity of drama of a girl's first love, but it still comes off as icky.
And before anyone comes at me, I know spuffy isn't healthy either, but that's kinda the point and the appeal. First of all, it's fiction and a metaphor, and secondly, it's about two broken people that are supposed to be mortal enemies but are actually two sides of the same coin, so different and yet so much the same, who can understand each other as a whole, light and darkness, in a way that no one else ever could, who yes, hurt each other along the way, but whose love saved them from the deepest darkness, ultimately bringing them into the light.
This is what spuffy is to me, and this is why i think it's not only the superior ship, but one of the best ships of all time (thee best, until i saw destiel, now they're sharing the podium).
So anyway, to get back to your question, the moment i became obsessed with Buffy and Spike (and i have been ever since 2005, lmao, they've been my first real obsession, alongside btvs, until spn and destiel) Angel sort of became the enemy 😅. And I hated him so so so so so much when he appeared in 7x21 and kissed Buffy (pure fanservice, but okay) and brought the medallion that ultimately killed Spike. So i spent years very maturely holding my vendetta against Angel (like, rooting for every demon that fought against him when I watched Angel, lmaoo). In most recent years, I've (sort of) made my peace with the character, after rewatching Angel. I mean he's still the enemy (of course, duh!! Who am i if not eternally petty??) but i appreciate him in his own show.
So i don't ship Angel and Buffy anymore, but I can understand why someone would (as i myself used to), and more importantly, i respect other people's right to ship them.
If we're joking, I'm going to insult Angel and keep saying he's the enemy. But on a mature serious note, I think Buffy and Angel were a great first love (for Buffy), but they were supposed to be just that, the impossible teenage girl's dream of a first love, eternal but doomed to end and break your heart.
I think Angel was much more well paired with Cordelia (which is something I'd never think I'd say), and i found myself shipping them so much when I rewatched the show. It felt so much more mature and profound than what we saw with Buffy and Angel (and that's probably due to the fact that we got slow burn for them - as we did for Buffy and Spike- and could actually see the feelings growing, while Buffy crushed on Angel in the pilot and she was madly in love (as teenagers do) in 0.5 seconds for no apparent reason than the fact that he was hot and mysterious.
So when I say the kiss in btvs 7x21 makes zero sense, I'm not just talking about spuffy, but also about cangel. I feel like both characters parted ways and lived on in their own shows to grow and become their own persons, developing other relationships that were more adult and meaningful, and that kiss was just disrespectful for both (but anyways, it doesn't change anything).
I have so many thoughts about all this honestly, and I hope I haven't gone too much off the tangent with my reply, but i couldn't just give you a simple reply because that would've had to be something like "angel is the enemy and i don't like bangel" but as you can see my thoughts are a little more complex than that 😅
#btvs#spuffy#spuffy vs bangel#anti bangel#buffy x spike#angel x cordelia#cangel#my commentary#my opinion#asks#asks answered#@anniemurphy#sorry it took me a little while to reply but i wanted to give a thoughtful answer <3
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You said a few days ago that you would have liked if season 7 went more in the direction of Help rather than the direction of the First. I know you're not a big fan of the First but I was wondering what you meant by that specifically, and what kind of direction you might have preferred season 7 go in overall?
I don’t have any good reason to think it actually happened, but I always get the impression from watching or thinking about Season 7 that the early plans for the season changed pretty significantly at some point after most of the first few episodes had already been written. (Perhaps when they decided that it would also be the last season? I’ve heard conflicting accounts of when that decision was made.)
If you go back and look at the then-contemporary discussions of the show, the whole season was initially marketed as something of a ‘year zero’: a return to the show’s high school era roots, to something much more upbeat than Season 6, to the original Scooby Gang as the focus of the show.
And just to be clear, I rather like Season 6 – it doesn’t always work, and I think some of the subplots are pretty dreadfully executed, and sometimes I respect the episodes more than I enjoy watching them – but it inarguably has a clear vision for the story it’s trying to tell, one that builds on and recontextualizes what came before it. But for the payoff for that season to land, we needed Season 7 to be different. To be less cynical, more hopeful. It needed to show us that Buffy was right to promise Dawn in Grave that things were going to get better.
And that sort of reset is what we got … for about half a dozen episodes. Then, of course, it goes rather horribly wrong.
I like Help in particular because it is, for me, the closest the show ever gets to delivering on that promise of a return to the high school era. It’s not quite a regression or a soft reboot: Buffy is still an adult with a job, even if she’s suddenly unexpectedly back in high school. Her more mundane responsibilities haven’t suddenly gone away. But now the job she has isn’t something she hates but has to do – it’s something that she actually has a calling for, almost literally, something that harks back to her getting the Class Protector award back in Season 3. In Help Buffy’s inhabiting the same world she did in the first three seasons, she’s still trying to save people, but this time with a new, more experienced perspective.
The episode feels very aware of the show’s history, too. There are nods to Lie To Me (a teenager Buffy knows is going to die because of illness, not anything supernatural Buffy can stop) and Reptile Boy (the cult trying to sacrifice a teenage girl to a demon for material riches) and Beauty and the Beasts (with Buffy herself taking on the role of Mr Platt, worried that Mike is going to turn out to be another Pete), and of course the whole episode is a callback to Prophecy Girl. Because Cassie – probably the show’s last great one-episode character (and yes, the actor comes back later but the person doesn’t) – isn’t just somebody Buffy is trying to save, she is Buffy: a Season 1 Buffy who struggles to make friends and has a supernatural gift she doesn’t like to talk about and knows she’s going to die heartbreakingly young. I don’t think it’s merely chance that Cassie’s big speech to Buffy about her destiny (“You think I want this? You think I don’t care?”) echoes Buffy’s own words to her mother in Becoming either (“You think I choose to be like this?”).
Plus, while the episode ties into the wider story arc – with Spike in the basement and hints that Principal Wood might be up to something and our first appearance of future Potential Amanda – the whole thing still tells a coherent, self-contained story. It stands on its own right; it makes sense on its own terms. it’s not just another installment in the long running saga of General Buffy and the friends she never talks to who later kick her out of the house she owns.
And I think there was a lot more ground there to explore, in the same vein as Help. At least a full season’s worth. There was so much more the show could have tried to do in terms of going back and revisiting some of the classic moments of the first three seasons from a more mature and more grown-up perspective, instead of summarily kicking Buffy out of her new job and then blowing the school up (again). If this season is about the future – about new Slayers being called, one way or another – then what does that mean? How else are Buffy and Willow and Xander engaged in the challenge of trying to pass on what they’ve learned about life on the Hellmouth to a new generation?
At its best, Buffy has always been in conversation with its past, building on ideas that were touched on in one season and asking the audience to think about them again from a different angle. And the beginning of Season 7 sets up the perfect stage to try to do more of that.
I’d have loved to have seen a whole season of Buffy trying to keep her students alive while also preparing them to go out and live in the world. Of Dawn making new friends and finding value in being herself, not just the Slayer’s sister or the mystical Key. Of Buffy and Willow and Xander really getting to know each other again, and having a chance to talk about everything that happened to them last year. A whole season of, in a way, seeing the show from the very beginning, but this time from the perspective of people like Giles or Jenny or Joyce.
But instead we got a lot of boring wank about an impossibly old super-god who can’t actually touch anything (but one who Buffy would definitely let Dawn die to defeat because this godlike being is so much more impressive and scary than Glory, trust us guys, please, we swear) and her army of interchangeable and personality-free super vampires (and of course Caleb, who’s somehow even more mind-numbingly boring than they are). Instead we get a second half of the season in which Andrew Wells has more screen time than Willow or Xander or Anya or Giles or Dawn. Instead we get to wonder whether Giles is the First and try to pretend to care that Spike has been hypnotized. Instead we get Lies My Parents Told Me.
Oh well. At least Faith shows up near the end.
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Sleep deprived thoughts from watching the first couple hours of Buffy season 2
-The 90's fashion is fascinating
-This might just me being a decade past high school at this point, but the only romance the show's offering up I even slightly care about is Giles/Calendar
-Other things I don't care about: Xander. Sorry.
-Spike's great though. So ridiculous he loops back around to being cool, and also he murdered that kid.
-I am just so intensely curious what Buffy's mom actually thinks she's doing with a time. Does she think her daughter's in a gang?
-Okay I know in the incan mummy girl episode (which, woof, has aged ever so slightly) that they joke about 'Crime Club' but I do wonder if there's some ostensible justification to the school for how Giles is basically managing a small PI firm of weird teenagers out of the school library.
-The frat party human sacrifice barely-subtextual-date-rape episode is actually pretty good overall, but also there's some slight dissonance between playing up how creepy the frat guys hitting on high schoolers are, and then portraying Angel a the dreamy romantic hero.
Anyway, really enjoying Season 2 so far!
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Can I just say I love how like, into revisiting and analysing this dumb show’s scenes you still are — with the rise in popularity of streaming (I’m sure this has something to do with it, anyway) it’s become more and more commonplace for people to consume a piece of media, enjoy it, get bored of it after a while and never touch it again after moving on to the next new thing. It’s so wholesome and refreshing to see people still be so passionate and always find something new to talk about a show that, for all many of us care, ended 8 years ago. I do move in and out of being obsessed and disinterested with the media I’ve enjoyed, but in a world where I’m constantly seeing people say “oh you’re a fan of [X]? But that’s old :/“ (mostly about something that finished like last year lol) your blog is a breath of fresh air :)
Well thank you 🥹
The thing is, I get it. I get why and how people move on to different fandoms so quickly, and I don't really think poorly of that or anything. It's been almost a decade and it's easy to fall out of love with something after so long. Hell, when you think about it, this fandom has outlived the lifespan of a lot of entire relationships people have had 🥴. People find new things to get excited over and the *gasp* feeling of finding this new /thing/ is always fun. So I do get it.
But for me, it's just not that way. It's not that simple. Not because I think I'm somehow special (maybe a lil deranged 😬), but rather that's just how I operate. Before Clexa the only other ship I ever really cared about was Willara from Buffy which I watched when I was a goddamn teenager lol (RIP to my fellow gays always falling for girls who get shot ✊😔). I just don't get attached much to characters and ships. Usually ai like them in passing, enjoy watching them, and then that's... it. Tibette from the L Word. Wayhaught. Brittana. I like them and I follow them, but there's no real desire to delve deeper beneath the surface.
And then something like Clexa comes around and just absolutely fucks me up. It hits me and connects with me in a way that I just can't shake. Watching the show isn't enough. Thinking about it isn't enough. I have to discuss it and dissect it and fill in the gaps that we didn't see, and read and (now) create more stories for them just to understand everything about them to a deeper degree.
So few characters really elicit that kind of connection, but Clexa do. Even for a lot of the people who have moved on, at one time they felt that connection. Clexa was a fuckin madhouse for years and I think the fact that even still to this day people keep discovering and rediscovering them and falling in love with them all over again speaks volumes about just how wonderful that relationship and those characters actually were.
Especially Lexa.
Now, I love Clarke. I make it known that thiiiisss is a Clarke Griffin apologist's blog. That feral little kitten has never done anything wrong in her life. Ever. Including all of the terrible things she's done, as well as the many, many things that were flat out wrong. She is still innocent. She is only a baby. A murderous, tormented, compassionate, complex babygirl. So never get it twisted that I'm saying Clarke is somehow lesser than, but when push comes to shove when we're talking about baseline complexity, there is no character like Lexa. There's just not.
This woman was definition of doomed by the narrative. A child stolen away to be used as a glorified sacrificial lamb for her people. A toddler wielding a sword made of wood taller than her own tiny body, trained to accept her own life as expendable for the greatest good of her people before even learning her ABCs. She took the throne at 12 bby slaughtering her only companions and made her death mask out of kohl and fallen tears. Every person she ever loved as a mother, father, brother, either died for her, or by her own hand. The only two people she ever dared to be weak for were torn from her in the name of politics and the weight of her own bloodied crown. Under all the regalia she was just Lexa. Heda, always surrounded by her people and yet eternally just a lonely soul. Born here on Earth, raised to eventually die for others, left to rule over the people on the ground as best she knew how.
And yet through the pain, she was strong. So fucking strong it emboldened the warriors around her. She was brave, and lethal, and unyielding in her pursuit of peace. Meeting every push against her forward march to change head on, never flinching in her own brutality along the way. She knew that she was born for this; believed the black of her blood to be every bit as much of a blessing as it was a curse. Even when people doubted her and did their best to end her reign, Lexa always came out swinging.
She loved hard and kicked ass even harder, is what I'm saying. And the fact that they took a character like that and ended her so fucking carelessly? I just... I'm gonna be pissed off about that for a very long time. And until I'm no longer pissed off about that, I'll be here running mouth about it 🥴 probably still trying to make it better by writing her and the love of her life in as many stories as I can, so they can finally get the happy ending that was robbed of them in canon 🫡
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Moving On - Dave York x F!Reader
Chapter 8 of The Princess and The Duke.
This blog is a 18+ space, Minors, do not engage. If you are under the age of 18 you are not welcome here. Your reading and consumption of my work is your responsibility but I will endeavour to mitigate any discomfort for you, the reader, as possible. Once again, this is a 18+ space and minors should not interact.
Specific Warnings: Mentions of dick, mentions of sex toys, so much yearning, angst, step-cest, Mentions of poor parent-child relationship, parents touching sex toys without consent, mentions of childhood trauma(forgotten birthdays), food mention.
Big shout out to Hemmy (@angelofsmalldeath-codeine for writing this with me!)
Follow @vi-notifs for updates!
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[Read on AO3]
Wordcount: 7.2k
It’s been less than twenty-four hours since you returned home from the disaster of a dinner with your mother. You’re still not fully over the semi-public dredging of the traumatic childhood that you’d endured. You’re reclined on Ash’s sofa; you caress her head in your lap as you watch reruns of Buffy when a text notification comes through. Your stomach flutters with excitement when you see who it’s from.
Duke🎷: Hey, Nancy will be out for a few hours tomorrow afternoon. She should be gone long enough for you to get all your things.
“Hey, Ash?” You ask as you look up from your phone to see Sarah Michelle Gellar stake someone.
“Hmm? What’s up?”
“Are you free tomorrow afternoon to move some stuff out from my room at Dave’s?”
“I can free up my calendar, no problem. Nancy going to be there?” Ash asks as she tilts her head back to look up at you.
“Nah, Dave’s said she’s out for a few hours.”
“Shame. Would have liked to give the bitch a piece of my mind,” Ash grins at you and you stick your tongue out at her.
“Very funny,” you playfully scold her, “Alright I’ll confirm it with Dave.”
You pull your phone back up.
Princess🌙: Sure, you going to be there?
Dave types for a while before the message comes through.
Duke🎷: Only if you want me to be.
Princess🌙: We could use the extra pair of hands. How early can we get there?
You want to tell him that you do want him there, that you want to see him. But you refrain, knowing better than to say something so bold. It doesn’t stop you from thinking it.
Duke🎷: 1pm if that’s ok with you? I’ll be there.
Princess🌙 : Perfect, see you then.
Your gaze lingers, hoping – maybe foolishly – that he’s going to send another message, keep the conversation going. You’re about to lock your phone and turn your attention back to the TV when you see the little grey dots shuddering to indicate Dave typing. You bite your lip in anticipation, and you don’t miss the way Ash rolls her eyes at you before grinning.
Duke🎷: You got everything you need for the new place?
Princess🌙: Sort of? I’m taking the bed from my room at yours, if that’s ok. Otherwise, it’s pretty sparse, I’ll have to make a trip to that big furniture mall up near Tech Ridge.Duke🎷: Of course, it’s yours. If you need anything else, just let me know.
Princess🌙: Sure, thanks, Dave. See you tomorrow!
Duke 🎷: Anytime, see you then.
“Jesus! You’re like a fucking teenager,” Ash scolds you playfully as she nudges your knee with her fist.
“Fuck you,” you grumble as you ruffle her hair, heat creeping up your neck as you know you can’t deny it.
You set your phone down with a smile, feeling the anticipation bubble up in your chest as you try to focus on the TV. But it’s no use, you can’t stop thinking about Dave, you haven’t been able to since the diner last night.
~*~
Monday
Dave smirks to himself as he watches Nancy on the right screen of his work computer. She’s leafing through the photos Resnik had dropped off an hour ago. Dave has a set of copies up on the left computer screen as he sips his morning coffee.
He hates seeing photos of himself, especially when he looks so flustered. He needs to work on his cardio. Most of his recent hits have been more complex cloak and dagger affairs. Smaller margins for error. Cardio has been the last thing on his mind, and the only working out he’s been doing has been for his mental health. Weight training is a far more satisfying outlet than jogging around the block aimlessly.
His discomfort is quickly dispelled as he watches Nancy swipe the photos off the kitchen counter. The sound is muted but it’s clear she’s screaming bloody murder into the empty home. There’s a poisoning thread of guilt surrounding the scene, he never wanted to see Nancy in pain. But the memory of the dinner party burns any pity away as she tirades around the space where she had humiliated you only days before.
Dave picks up his phone and texts Resnik to commend him on a job well done when he sees a text from you. He opens it immediately, turning off the remote feed of your mother wallowing in her self-pity.
Princess🌙: Hey, you still ok for today?
Duke🎷: Of course, all good on your end?
Princess🌙: Yeah, just checking in, thank you again for this.
Duke🎷: Again, you don’t need to thank me, it’s the least I can do.
Princess🌙: Ok, well, see you at 1.
Duke🎷: See you then.
Dave watches as you start typing again, stopping for a few moments before starting up. It makes his stomach twist, like he’s waiting for something to happen. But you stop typing for good this time and he lets out a heavy breath he hadn’t known he was holding.
He loves that you’re talking again, even if it’s just about the logistics of moving your things out. It makes him check his phone at lightning speed at every news alert or email. Every time hoping it’s you, he doesn’t even know what you’d be texting about, other than the move. He knows that he’s kidding himself, you’ll soon be out of his life for good. Starting out on your own, finding someone more suitable, with less baggage.
But he lets himself live in the fantasy of it all for now. he takes peace in knowing you’re safe and that you’ll soon be free of your mother and her bullshit.
~*~
You’re restless as you pull up to Dave’s house. You’ve caught Ash stealing glances at you the whole drive, but she hasn’t said anything. You’re nervous, something about returning to the house has you on edge. But there’s excitement there too, you’re going to see Dave.
Ever since you reconnected in the diner on Saturday, you’ve been consumed with thoughts of him. When he held you, it was like being home. He makes you feel safe and peaceful.
“We’re here,” Ash says as you shake yourself from your thoughts, “Did you order that truck?”
“What truck?” You look up and your mouth falls slack as you see the white box truck with two men in blue overalls hauling the king-sized mattress into the back of the truck. The logo of a local removal company visible on the side of the vehicle.
“Not me, Dave must’ve called them,” you say as you get out of the car. You look up at the house to see Dave waiting on the porch for you. He’s leaning against the railing, his hand raised in a casual greeting as he nods to you.
“He’s down so bad for you,” Ash teases as she rounds the car, a shit-eating grin plastered on her face as she waves enthusiastically at Dave.
“Shut up,” you grumble as you nudge her side.
“Hey, Dave,” Ash shouts as she picks up the pace, practically jogging past you.
“Ashleigh,” he nods as he holds out a hand to shake, but Ash bats it away with her hand before throwing her arms around him.
Dave catches her with ease, despite her practically jumping at him. He steadies her before putting distance between them, holding her at arm’s length. You can’t help but smile at the sight as he shoots you a questioning look. You simply shrug, you have no clue what has gotten into her.
“You’re making your way into the good books, York,” Ash says as she squeezes his forearms. You watch as she says something under her breath to him before letting him go and barging into the house.
“What was that all about?” You ask as you reach the top step, trying not to show how nervous you are as you resist every urge to throw your arms around him like Ash just did. But you know that there’s no way you can risk such a PDA with the threat of the PI looming over you.
“She was grilling me about the truck,” Dave says as he looks you over, “How’re you doing?”
“I really appreciate you doing that,” you nod absently, “Things have been better,” you admit with a noncommittal grunt, “It’s good to see you though.”
The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them. Your eyes go wide as you try and think of a way to walk them back. But Dave beats you to it.
“It’s good to see you too,” his voice is low as he gives you a smile that doesn’t quite meet his eyes, “And I figured you’d struggle getting a whole king-size bed into that tiny thing.”
Dave gestures over your shoulder at the car and you wince at your lack of foresight. You turn back to see that the warmth has returned to his smile as he teases you gently. An echo of a time where things were simpler, easier.
“We should probably head in,” you say as you look over your shoulder again, paranoia prickles under your skin. It’s become something of a habit since you found out about the Private Investigator. Even in the safety of Ash’s place, you feel like you’re being watched.
“Good idea,” Dave gestures for you to go in with one hand as he waves in the removal guys with the other, “I got them to pack up the bed and desk, as well as your PC and some other bulkier pieces of furniture,” he explains as he follows you into the house.
“That’s good of you, thank you so much,” you say over your shoulder as you ascend the stairs.
“I put your prop box under a throw in the living room, I’ll get it for you before you leave,” he says, his voice barely more than a whisper, “Didn’t want the movers nosing around in there.”
Your chest constricts with affection at his thoughtfulness, and you nod in affirmation.
“Thank you,” you repeat and the soft huff of amusement from Dave makes your skin tingle.
“You don’t have to keep saying that.”
“I know, but you’re doing all this for me,” you say with a shrug as you hear Ash bustling around your old bedroom, “I just really appreciate it.”
“Hey,” Dave says as he hesitates at the bedroom door.
“What?”
“So, Ash,” he gestures to the door, “How much does she know?”
“Everything,” you say as you cringe back, expecting anger or aggression. But Dave simply nods, as if confirming his own suspicions.
“Ok, good to know,” he says as he places his palm flat on the door, “Shall we?”
You nod and he pushes the door fully open for you. You smile as Ash finishes assembling a cardboard box with a frustrated grunt. There’s a stack of flat-pack ones to her side. She exhales aggressively, blowing stray blonde hairs from her face as she looks at you both.
“About time, these things are a nightmare to put up.”
An hour goes by as the three of you pack up the rest of your belongings, all the while you and Dave share glances and smiles. With the last few boxes being packed up Ash picks up the first of them to take downstairs. You look around to see the surprising number of boxes piled up around you. You’re even more grateful for the box truck now you can see the sheer size of the move.
“Right, I’m going to start piling these downstairs for the movers to load up,” Ash says with a dramatic clap of her hands, “Besides, you two clearly need a moment alone.”
She gives you a knowing look as you see Dave shift uncomfortably as he seals up a box labelled “pillows”. You flip her the bird as she leaves, grinning at you over her shoulder as she kicks the door closed. The sound of Dave putting down the tape dispenser is loud in your ears before the room falls silent.
“She’s subtle,” Dave says as he turns to look at you, flopping down on the floor next to the box, “I like her.”
“That’s Ash for you,” you shrug as you mirror him, settling down on the floor as you realize standing around and packing up your whole life is quite strenuous. The room feels too big and far too small all at once. The echo of your voices is eerie as the air is so suddenly thick with tension.
“How do I have so many pillows it requires a whole box?” You ask rhetorically as you try and fill the silence. You look anywhere but Dave’s face as you feel the desire to touch him build. You just want to bury yourself in his arms and never leave. You’re closer to him than you realized, only a few feet away. It feels like too far and not far enough all at once.
“You’d be surprised,” Dave says softly, “I think I filled three boxes with just records when I moved out of Carol’s place.”
“Records are cool, Dave,” you roll your eyes as you meet his gaze, but the moment you do you feel like you can’t breathe. Whatever you were going to say falls dead on your lips as you see the way he’s looking at you.
His eyes are glassy, his brow furrowed, and his jaw clenched, almost as if he’s in pain. But you know that look, it’s the look he gave you when you fell apart in his arms. It’s the look of restraint, holding himself back from crossing a line. Your fingers twitch as you start to reach for his hand, the temptation too heavy to resist. Just one touch, that’s all you need. Dave leans forward, his hand reaching for yours when the bedroom door swings open. You snatch your hand back and scramble to your feet.
“Alright,” Ash’s voice cuts through the silence like a blade, “They’ve got almost everything else packed up, let’s get this room-,”
She freezes as she looks between Dave and you, clearly unprepared for the intensity of the moment she interrupted.
“Do you two need a minute? Because I can go back out there and-,”
“No,” Dave says abruptly as he gathers himself up off the floor, “I’m going to check that the movers have everything ready to go, I’ll see you both down there.”
Dave grabs the box he was packing before he exits swiftly. He doesn’t look back as he shuts the door behind him. You let out a shaky exhale as tears spring to your eyes. You wipe them away before Ash reaches you, but she holds you just the same. Her arms wrap around you, firm and strong as you let her hold you.
“I expected to walk in on the two of you dry humping on the floor,” she chuckles low in your ear, “Not caught in whatever that was.”
You shake your head and bury yourself in her shoulder.
“I love him, Ash,” you mutter as you cling to her.
“Poor bastard,” she jokes, and you can’t help but laugh, “But seriously, he’s nothing like anyone that came before, I like him for you.”
“Yeah?” You pull back as you sniffle, wiping the back of your sleeve over your lip, “Why’s that?”
Ash raises an eyebrow at you incredulously, as if you had to ask.
“He’s clearly into you for more than just sex, or a kink, or some twisted stepdad thing,” Ash says as if she’s telling you the sky is blue, “We do need to talk about how he knew where you were on your birthday, maybe not now, cus that was weird and a bit stalker-y.”
“Not today,” you groan, and Ash puts her hands up defensively.
“I know, but that aside, he’s been looking out for you from the moment you landed back in Texas. The night with that douchebag Tristan, your birthday, Saturday night with your mom. No offense babe, but no pussy is worth all that effort. Especially when you’ve not fucked for what? Weeks? Months?”
“Too long,” you say as you can’t help but smile at Ash’s crass humour.
“Exactly,” Ash says with a triumphant smile, “I like him for you, he’d be good for you.”
“Y’know, that unfortunate stepdad thing aside,” you retort, and Ash shakes her head as she smiles at you.
“We could just kill her you know?”
“Ashleigh Mae!” You say with a dramatic gasp as you smirk at her.
“Just saying,” She holds her hands up in mock surrender, “I know a guy.”
“Whatever,” you say as you turn to the last few boxes needing to be filled, “Let’s get the rest of this shit packed up.”
“Yes, boss,” Ash gives you a mock salute before grabbing another box. You shake your head and gather the last few belongings into a final moving box labelled “Misc.”.
There’s a distinct lack of emotion as you head down to the kitchen, you thought moving out would have made you feel something. You set the box down and head into the living room where Dave is staring out of the window.
“Hey,” you say softly, not wanting to startle him.
“Oh, hey, you all ready to go?” He turns to you with a distant look on his face.
“Yeah, just getting that last box,” you say, gesturing to the grey fleece throw covering the box on the sofa. You recognize it as the one from Dave’s sofa downstairs.
“Of course,” he nods and folds his arms over his chest, his eyes dropping to his feet, “There’s something else I want to run by you.”
“Oh?” You look up from the covered box of props to meet his gaze.
“I’ve got a storage unit full of stuff Nancy wouldn’t let me have in the house,” he brings a hand up to rub his jaw, a nervous habit of his, “I was thinking seeing as you said you didn’t have much to furnish the new place, you could take a look and pick some stuff out? Consider it a late birthday gift.”
“Dave, you’ve already done so much for me, I don’t know if I could accept that,” you say as your heart aches at how much he’s willing to do for you.
“It’s all just sat there gathering dust, it’s a shame for it to go to waste when it could get some use.”
You mull it over for a moment, worst case scenario it’s a bunch of junk that you might get nothing from. Best case, you might not need to traipse up to the Furniture Mall on the weekend.
“Alright, I’ll take a look,” you smile as you pick up the box of props, “I’m keeping the throw, if that wasn’t clear.”
“Of course, wouldn’t have it any other way. I’ll give the movers the details for the storage unit. I will text you the codes to enter/let me write down the codes” Dave nods as his smile reaches his eyes. You’re about to head out to the car when you remember one last thing you meant to ask.
“I know you’ve already done so much for me-,”
“I was thinking-,” Dave speaks at the same time as you and you both stop talking the moment you realise you’re cutting the other off. You can’t help but laugh as you wait for the other to start talking again.
“You go,” you say, eager to hear what Dave has to say.
“I hope this isn’t overstepping,” he starts again as he props his hands on his waist, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth, “But I wanted you to know that, should you want it, I have someone I trust to install security measures on your new place. Would you be interested in something like that? I’ve just noticed how on edge you are, and with a PI sniffing around it seems like a good idea to deter any unwanted visitors.”
You feel your cheeks ache from how hard you’re smiling as Dave beat you to your own point.
“So, I was about to ask you for advice on who to call about that,” you admit, and you watch as relief washes over Dave’s face, “Because yeah, between the PI, and the prospect of living alone in a big city like Austin, I could use the extra peace of mind.”
“I’ll give him your number to get in touch and I’ll let him know to put it on my card.”
“Dave, you don’t have to-,”
“I couldn’t keep you safe in my own home, please, consider it me making it up to you.”
You consider it for a moment, a small voice in the back of your mind warns you about all the spending. But none of this is frivolous, it’s practical and a means to keep you safe. Most importantly, none of it feels transactional, he’s not doing this to buy you back. He’s protecting you.
“Ok,” you nod, convincing yourself as much as Dave, “Give him my number so we can set up the installation.”
“Excellent,” Dave says, and you stand there for a moment before realizing that this is it, there’s nothing left to say. You’ve got nothing more to stall with, you have to leave.
“Well, I guess this is it then,” you shuffle your feet nervously, “Can you get the truck to follow us to the storage place?”
“I’ll call them as soon as you leave.”
“Sure,” you say as you drum your fingers on the side of the box before you make yourself move, heading towards the door with regret and longing weighing down your movements. You get to the front door and put the box down, you can see Ash on the phone as she waves at you, “Hey, Dave?”
You step back from the door and turn to look at Dave again. His brow is raised in a silent question and your body moves before you can stop yourself. You take two long strides back into the house and wrap your arms around him. You bury your face in his t-shirt, hand fisting into the material covering his back as you breathe him in.
“Thank you.”
You breathe into his chest as you feel his broad arms wrap around you. He holds you tightly against him as he places a barely-there kiss to the top of your head. Another stolen moment, a risk you shouldn’t be taking.
“It’s ok, I got you.”
Dave whispers before giving you one last squeeze. His hold loosens and you don’t linger in his embrace, you know you’ve already pushed the limits. You step back with bleary eyes as you smile up at him before wiping away the tears.
“I’ll see you around,” you choke out before scooping up the box on the floor and practically jogging down the porch steps. You load up the box into the trunk of Ash’s car without a word before giving the movers the address to your new place.
“We’ll meet you at the storage place,” The driver says with a nod before getting into the cab.
“Ready to go?” You turn to Ash as she leans on the roof of her car, giving you an imperceptible look.
“Yeah,” she says with a nod before ducking into the car. She’s holding something back, but you can’t quite figure out what.
“You ok?” You ask as you secure your seatbelt, “You seem off.”
“I’m fine,” Ash says as she pulls out into the street, “I’m just sad for you, for the both of you.”
You don’t know what to say to that, opting instead to set route to the storage unit on Ash’s phone before placing it back on the hands-free cradle. You don’t speak for the short drive. You’re too lost in your own thoughts to fill the silence. The moving truck follows you the whole way and once you’re booked it at the front desk you make your way to Dave’s storage unit.
Row after row of red roller shutters greet you, thousands of moments of people’s lives in stasis.
“These places always give me the creeps,” Ash says with a shudder as you get to the row where Dave’s unit is. You stroll down the numbered units, checking for 461 as you go.
“Yeah, it’s like a graveyard, rows and rows of dormant spaces.”
“Jesus,” Ash scoffs as she nudges you with her shoulder, “I was thinking more along the lines of where people hide their dirty secrets, or their drug money like in Breaking Bad.”
“I mean, those options aren’t exactly much better.”
“I’d much rather walk into this unit to find stacks of cash or his secret balloon fetish than dead bodies,” Ash says as you stop in front of the unit.
“Here’s to finding something less terrifying than a dead body,” you joke as you use the code lock to open it up.
The roller shutter opens with a rattle and a crash as the mechanism locks open. You fumble for the pull cord for the light. The bright fluorescent tube lighting blinds you for a moment before your eyes adjust.
There are metal racks lining the walls, with boxes of photo albums, books, and all manner of very personal items stacked up to the ceiling. In the middle of the room are larger items covered in sheets, the furniture Dave mentioned, you guess. There’s a whole rack devoted to records, and you watch Ash’s eyes light up as she sees them. She hurries over to the shelving unit and immediately pulls out a box labelled “The Stones”.
“Wow,” Ash lets out a low whistle as she steps into the tightly packed space, “Did he just pack his whole life up in here when he married your mom?”
“Seems that way,” you say absently as you notice a box filled with framed photographs, “It’s not like Nancy let him decorate his own home. You saw how sad and beige it was in there. All of this would have just been clutter to Nancy, and God forbid her man bring reminders of his life before, or his family into her home.”
You pull out the top one, almost without thinking. You see a younger Dave with a small, dark-haired girl on his shoulders, her tiny hands fisted in his hair as he smiles at the camera. A slightly older looking girl is hanging off his pant leg, caught in a fit of laughter as Dave has a hand on either child, steadying them both.
You’re not sure which one is which, but their names come to you immediately.
“Molly and Alice,” you whisper to yourself as you grip the frame in your hands, you wonder if it was Carol that took the photo. You’re surprised that you don’t feel any jealousy towards her. Instead, your mind immediately fills with the thought of having that life with Dave. Being the one behind the camera, capturing these moments of him and his girls. Being a part of those moments with him, a part of his life. A family.
You feel the shiver run down your spine as you refuse to admit to yourself that hope for that life with Dave has already taken root. It’s been festering inside you for some time but seeing him happy with his girls makes you face it. The need to have that life with him is all-consuming, threatening to swallow you whole. It’s too much for you to bear because you don’t know you’d be able to cope if it all came apart at the seams. Right now, you have to focus on you, on your life.
You put the frame down in haste and make yourself walk away, there’s a thick, tight feeling in your throat. You press on, moving to the covered furniture and pull the dust covers away to reveal a full-size record console. You recognize it mostly from film and TV, not having seen one in person before. The dark grey, mesh covered speakers the biggest giveaway, but you have no idea how it opens.
“Oh my fucking god,” Ash squeals at your elbow and you wince at the way your ears are ringing, “This is a Wrensilva!”
“A what?” You ask as you watch Ash run her hands over the wooden surface of the console, clearly looking for something.
“It’s only one of the best modern record consoles on the market, these things go for ten grand or more.”
Ash explains with an excited energy usually only reserved for Sarah Michelle Gellar, Taylor Swift, and women she’s dating. Her fingers find purchase on the wooden panel on top and the hinge moves soundlessly as she pushes the cover open.
“This is pristine,” She breathes as her hands ghost over the brushed aluminum dials and knobs, as if she’s afraid to touch it.
“Shame he never had the chance to use it,” you say with sadness as you remember the small tabletop turntable in Dave’s basement. A far cry from the opulent piece of art before you.
“Do you think we could play something?” Ash says, already rifling through boxes of records to find something to play.
“If you can find somewhere to plug it in, be my guest,” You shrug as you pull off some more dust sheets to reveal a hoard of expensive-looking furniture. Everything is lacquered wood, there’s a dining table and chairs that would be way too big in your new studio apartment. You eye up a mahogany wardrobe with beautiful glass doors that would fit well in your bedroom.
The final item you uncover is a beautiful wooden writing desk with a curved shutter. There are drawers on either side of the space where a chair would go, with intricate brass handles on all of them. You push up the wooden shutter to reveal the desk itself. It opens with ease, revealing small drawers and open spaces for letters and other small items along the top.
The flat surface has a leather mat inset into the wood, gold detailing in each corner. You run your fingertips over the smooth surface and imagine sitting at the desk with your laptop, pouring over legal notes and case briefs. There’s a perfect spot to put a desk lamp on the right.
You hear the needle drop, with the softest of scratches, and feel yourself take in a small breath as you wait for the music to start. The hauntingly beautiful sound of Nina Simone is crystal clear, and unbelievably rich through the bassy speakers. Clearly, Ash had found a power outlet. Feeling Good is one of your favorite songs, Ash knows this, and you smile as you look over your shoulder at her.
“Louis Armstrong, The California Ramblers,” Ash says approvingly as she saunters over to you, “Man has excellent taste.”
“I mean, have you seen me?” You scoff and Ash looks at you with a shocked expression, jaw hung open as she grins up at you.
“Are we doing this? Fully admitting you two are horny as fuck for one another?”
“After today, it’s more than a little obvious, don’t you think?” You say with a shrug, your lips pulled up into an unapologetic grin.
“Giiiiirl,” Ash squeals as she shakes her head in disbelief, “Ok but can we talk about those fucking grey sweatpants he wore today? I’m gay and I couldn’t help but fucking fixate.”
“Don’t,” you push on her shoulder as you feel your cheeks heat up, “I swear he wore them today to fucking torment me.”
“Is it as big as it looks?”
“Jesus Christ, Ash, for a lesbian you’re way too into dicks.”
“Women can have dicks too,” Ash points out and you roll your eyes.
“You’re way too into the dick of a cis man then,” you counter, and she just shrugs as she grins at you.
“You’re no fun,” Ash huffs, realizing you aren’t going to divest the size of Dave’s cock to her.
“It’s also fucking gorgeous,” you say as you head towards the door of the unit, not so much as looking at Ash as you go. The movers are waiting for you outside and you quickly tell them which pieces to take out to the truck.
“You’re such a fucking tease,” Ash groans as she scrambles after you, “Could we at least go dildo shopping so you can point out an adequate substitute?”
“You’re so fucking gross,” you laugh as you turn off the console, putting the record back in its sleeve before unplugging it. Ash replaces the lid of the console and paws at it balefully, like a lovesick puppy.
“That’s not a no,” Ash wiggles her eyebrows at you as you put the boxes back on the shelving units.
“Only if you buy me one too, Nancy ruined my favorite one by fondling it before covering it in mashed potatoes.”
“No, not Vibro Vibescal?!”
“The very same,” You say solemnly as you make your way back to the door of the storage unit, “No way could I bring myself to put him inside me after that, food and pussies just don’t mix.”
“And no-one wants their moms touching their toys.”
“Ugh don’t,” you groan as you lean against the exterior wall, you’re so ready to get home and start unpacking.
“So, what will you call the new one?” Ash asks as she rests her head on your shoulder, snaking an arm around your waist.
“I dunno,” you muse, “Maybe Hole Filler?”
“I don’t get it,” Ash says, and you can hear the pout in her tone as you watch the movers grab the writing desk. The last item.
“Like Joel Miller, from The Last of Us?”
“Too far a walk to get to the punch line,” Ash grumbles as she tries to think of something else.
“We good to go?” You hail one of the movers as he passes you both.
“All set, just checking, this the address?” The man asks as he holds out his phone, the address already inputted on the Maps app.
“That’s the one,” you nod and start locking up the unit.
“See you there, ma’am.”
You smile to yourself at the honorific. The moment you’re happy everything is set up you loop your arm through Ash’s own. You stroll back to the car, your heart a little heavier. You try not to dwell on the way you can’t stop thinking about the photo of Dave and his girls.
~*~
You unlock the front door to your open plan apartment with a jingle of keys and hurried movements. The second-floor apartment is exactly as you remembered it. Dark hardwood floors, high ceilings with arched windows. The walls are a soft blue, bare, but for a few framed posters the last occupant left. You make a mental note to take them down. You head through the main living space, beckoning Ash to come inside.
“Shit, how much is this costing you?” Ash says as she steps in behind you.
“Not as much as you’d think. Two people died in the bedroom; the rental company couldn’t shift the place. Apparently, it was big news a year ago?”
“People died in here?” Ash whispers.
“Ash, people die in homes all the time,” you sigh as you watch the movers pile the furniture into the middle of the room, “I’m much more afraid of the living.”
“But like,” Ash looks around the open space with wide eyes, “Isn’t it weird?”
“All I care about is that it’s almost half as cheap as anything else for rent in this part of Austin,” you shrug, dead people can’t hurt you.
“You’re far braver than me,” Ash says with a shudder, “I couldn’t live in an apartment that has ghosts.”
“Ghosts aren’t real, Ash,” you laugh as the movers start to bring up the furniture.
“Where do you want us to set things up?” The lead mover asks as he wipes his brow.
“It’s fine, I’ll sort it,” you say with a wave of your hand, not wanting to pay extra to have them set up the bed and other items.
“Mr York pre-paid for the service, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Alright,” you nod, your heart fluttering at Dave’s thoughtfulness.
You instruct the movers to set up the bed in the other room, the only space that isn’t open plan. Then they set up the chairs and desk in the main room, the desk sits beautifully under the main window, looking out into the city below. They stack the moving boxes in your bedroom.
The moment the movers are gone you head back down to Ash’s car to get your prop box. You expect Ash to come back up with you, but she shakes her head.
“I’ve gotta catch up on work, but we’ll do something this weekend yeah? Maybe throw a housewarming? Invite Peter?”
“Sounds good,” you say as you pull her into a firm half-hug as you balance the prop box on your hip, “Thank you so much for today.”
“Anytime,” she tilts her head at you with a smile, “But please, don’t get murdered by your ghosts.”
“I promise,” you say with an exasperated sigh as you hold your hand over your heart. She sighs at your lack of sincerity before getting into her car. You wave her off as she leaves, only heading back up to your apartment after she disappears from view. You reach the top step, about to enter the main building when you feel the prickle of uncertainty under your skin. You look over your shoulder, scanning the street for anything out of place. But there’s nothing there, just the typical bustle of people going about their business. There aren’t any obvious signs of a PI, but you feel unease as you slip inside.
You lock your door behind you, already eager for Dave to get his security contractor in to set up the alarm and cameras. You set your prop box down on your bed before you start unpacking the rest of your clothes and bedding. The wardrobe just about fits all your clothes, but you make a note on your phone to plan a trip to IKEA at some point for a chest of drawers for the rest of your clothes. You think of anything you need for the kitchen, cutlery, plates, all that mundane stuff.
You set your laptop up on the writing desk and pull over one of the wingback chairs, it’s too low to really use the desk comfortably but it’ll do for now. Your dual monitors and PC tower won’t fit on this. Another thing to add to the list, a computer desk for your room as you’d left the old one at Nancy’s. But the writing desk is perfect for studying, with ample room for a laptop and books as well as a lamp. Another thing to add to the list.
“Fuck,” you huff to yourself as you realize that the small – if expensive – offering of Dave’s furnishings certainly made a dent in what you need, but your new place was far from complete. You order pizza before taking a long shower, the water pressure is delightful. You pad back out into the bedroom in just a towel, grateful for the generous adjoining bathroom, and pull the throw off the prop box.
You hold the fabric to your nose, inhaling the sweet scent of home, of Dave. It’s faint, but it still fills you with a rush and you think about that morning you woke up in Dave’s arms. The way his lips brushed against yours in the haze of waking. The first real moment that you crossed a line echo in your mind as you feel nothing but euphoria as you press your face into the fleecy fabric.
You throw the blanket over your shoulders as you open the box. A smile tugs at the corners of your mouth as you see the olive-green hoodie and “USMC” logo front and center in the box. You drop your towel and pull the oversized garment on. You groan audibly at the smell of Dave’s bodywash, and his natural scent that you never can truly place as you pull it over your head. It’s like a hit of adrenaline spiking through you, it makes you bold.
You find a pair of leggings to pull on before grabbing your phone. You dial Dave’s number, heading over to the loveseat in the middle of the apartment. You flop down and to your dismay he doesn’t pick up. You glance at the time and realize it’s almost ten, a little late for a call. You open up Instagram to scroll when the call comes in.
“Everything ok?” There’s an urgency in Dave’s voice that makes your stomach flutter.
“Everything’s great just finished unpacking,” you say as you try not to whine at his voice in your ear, “Thank you, Dave. I know I keep saying it. But really, I can’t express how much all this means to me.”
“Like I said, think of it as a late birthday present.”
“This is a bit much for one birthday,” you argue, both of you are stalling again, neither wanting to hang up.
“I think you’ve had more than enough shitty birthdays to warrant being spoiled this time around.”
You don’t know what to say, because he’s not wrong. This is the most you’ve been spoiled in your life, not that the bar is all that high. But it’s nice to be seen, to have someone acknowledge it and try and make amends. Even if it isn’t his responsibility. But that’s probably why it means so much more to you.
“I found the hoodie,” you say as you bite your lip, all you can smell is Dave.
“I hope you didn’t mind me putting it in there,” he says, his voice lower now, almost a purr in your ear, “I always thought it looked better on you.”
“It feels like home.”
You know you’re being too forward, but you miss him, you wish he was here. But you can’t say any of that out loud, but you need to say something.
“You’re a good man, Dave,” you say softly, your voice barely more than a whisper.
“I try,” he says, and you hear something low, sorrowful in his voice as he speaks, “Anything you need, you know where I am.”
“I do, see you around, Dave.”
“Bye, Princess,” The nickname makes your heart flutter, and you hear a grunt of discomfort on the other line as Dave realizes what he’s said, “I-, I didn’t mean-,”
“See you around, Duke.”
You hang up the phone before he can say anything more, astonished at your own boldness. You squeal to yourself like you’re a teenager again, drifting dangerously close to outwardly flirting with him.
But the thing that is clear to you now, if you ever really had any doubts about how Dave felt have dissipated.
He feels the same way, whatever it is you have, no matter how irresponsible it is, it’s mutual.
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#pedro pascal#pedro pascal characters#fanfic#dave york pit#dave york#dave york fanfiction#equalizer 2#dave york x female reader#dave york x reader#dave york x you#dave york x ofc#dave york x oc#The Princess and The Duke#Princess Luna x Duke Silver#forbidden romance#tw stepcest#stepcest cw#stepdad#stepdaughter#soft!dave york#dom!dave york#soft dom!Dave York#dave york did nothing wrong#dave york apologist#fluff
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I was discussing the Season two episode"Ted," recently, and even while I watched the show as a teenager during the original airing, there was always something about this episode that made me uncomfortable.
For those who recently started following me, I'm a social worker within the child welfare system. So, I have a habit of viewing things through my "social worker lense." Everytime I watch this episode, I find myself disappointed at the writers for the missed opportunities in addressing some of the more serious themes presented to the audience.
Sure, "mom's dating again," here are some feelings you might associate with that new element (isolation, feeling left out, boyfriend is an idiot), and that is all good, BUT the episode took a complete turn toward wrong when Joyce refused to believe Buffy.
Hear me out. I've seen too many situations of little girls coming into foster care after being removed from their homes because mom's boyfriend abused them in some way. In most of these scenario, the child has informed their mom about the abuse and it went ignored. The mom would claim the child is lying because of her delinquent behaviors and continue on with the relationship.
Sound familiar? It might, because that's what Joyce did in the episode. The writers may have tried to nullify Joyce's actions by having Ted drug her, but you see that's also a grave mistake. Sometimes drugs are present in these real life scenarios as well. It's still no excuse.
This is what happens when parents introduce people (who maybe they havent fully vetted) into their children's lives, opening them up to all kinds of dangers. If your child tells you your SO makes them feel uncomfortable. BELIEVE THEM.
The writers missed the mark on this one.
Maybe I'm reading too much into this, it is television after all, but I feel like how the show addressed the subject matter was irresponsible. When the conflict was "resolved," there should have been some assurance from Joyce that as her mother, she's her protector (regardless if Buffy is the Slayer). We didn't get that.
We got bad boyfriend robot story.
Verdict: Parents who neglect their children and people who abuse children are the real monsters.
P.S. I love Buffy. Sometimes I get thinky thoughts about the episodes that haven't aged well with me since my frontal lobe has fully developed.
#buffy btvs#buffy summers#joyce summers#season 2#buffy the vampire slayer#buffy meta#buffy#buffy fandom#fandom ramblings
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Joyce and Spike are besties, that's it 🤷♀️
--------
" - and there's no way she hasn't cheated on him!"
"Thats what I've been saying!" Spike's giggle is the first thing Buffy and Dawn hear when they return from a long day out.
"You know it's going to be a point of contention for like, the next week innit." The vampire snorted, halfway to raising a mug to his lips when Buffy and Dawn peeked into the living room with matching faces of shock and curiosity.
"....what are you doing here?" Dawn broke the awkward silence, Joyce having lowered the volume as Spike sat up straight on his spot on the couch.
"Watchin' Passions, wots it look like?" Spike grumbles, the blood in his mug a bit obvious when Dawn moves further into the living room.
"Buffy, what did I say about threatening Spike in my home?" Joyce shakes her head, Buffy looking at her with a slight pout.
Spike just gave a smug grin as he relaxed back, sipping his blood as he stared down Buffy.
"Someone messed up my crypt, and I like telly time." The vampire sniffed, and Buffy has the decency to look a bit guilty as he reaches forward to add some marshmallows from a small bowl on the coffee table to his mug.
"What is it with you two and Passions?" The Slayer finally moves to set her bag down by the door, Dawn slowly reaching over to snatch her own marshmallow before going to take up a free chair.
"It's a great soap!" Joyce shook her head as she raised the volume a little, not blind to the way Buffy kept her guard up. "Not a lot of people appreciate it here, and Spike has been lovely enough to join me."
"Figures he'd enjoy a soap with a haunted doll." Buffy grumbled as she went to the kitchen, and Spike only cackles as he places his socked feet back up on the table in front of him.
"Love me a good drama, luv, and yer mum has a great appreciation for art." Spike drawled, Dawn biting back a squeak when he lounged against her mother with a soft chuckle.
"That's very sweet of you to say." Joyce put a hand over her heart for a moment, a bit embarrassed yet touched. "While I wouldn't say a drama is art, that's still very sweet."
"All forms of media tend ta be art after a while." Spike shrugged, trying not to look pleased by the praise he'd received.
"I have work to do, I'll stake you if you try and kill my mother." Buffy called as she rounded up the stairs, honestly too exhausted for the normal verbal sparring match.
"Oooh I'm so scared." Spike rolled his eyes, muttering something as Joyce shook her head.
"I live with too many teenagers."
"Oi! I am not acting like a bloody teenager." Spike whined dramatically as Dawn giggled, pulling out some of her homework as Passions resumed in the background.
"The way you and Buffy bicker, you sure do." Joyce watched as Spike sat up to take a sip of his blood.
"I can only imagine how hard Angel'd laugh hearing that." Spike shook his head, Joyce watching him drink in thoughtfulness. "Still acts like I'm a fledge sometimes instead of the master I am."
"Well, that's his loss, dear." She patted his knee with a soft hum, wondering when she'd accepted the supernatural world as if she'd always known. "I think you make a great, uh, master, despite everything that's been forced on you."
"Think so?" As much as Spike had always put on airs, Joyce had always been able to catch sight of the more human side whenever she praised him, this time a small twinkle in his eye when he looked over.
---
He used to be known as William.
He'd confessed one drunken night one night that Buffy and Dawn were both out of the house, Spike sitting on the floor in front of the couch while Joyce propped him up. He'd told her how stupidly weak he'd been, how Cecily had broken his heart and practically drove him into Druscilla's embrace, voice trembling when he trailed off with his first undead breath.
She'd listened without a single interruption, one hand running through his dyed blonde hair while the other was firmly clamped over her mouth.
"Do you still remember your poetry?" It was a simple question, the drunken vampire tearing unfocused eyes from the carpet he'd been staring at.
"Some of it, yea." He didn't want her to stop touching his hair, leaning back with a pop of his back.
"You should recite it to me sometime, I'd love to hear it...William."
Blue eyes focus at the name, searching the woman's face for something she couldn't place, finally looking into her eyes.
"Not many people call me William." The statement is both a threat and pure vulnerability, and Joyce leans down to kiss the top of his head.
"Consider me honored."
---
"I know so." The vampire hums at that, reclining back on the couch and leaning against her.
"So, let's see if she really did cheat on him."
"Callin' it now!"
#buffy the vampire slayer#spike#spike btvs#joyce summers#dawn summers#buffy summers#william the bloody#william pratt#Joyce and Spike being besties will always be the best thing ever
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