#Kyle attempts fitness
I rewatched the Nightmare Time opening today, and would thus like to present an official cast ranking based on how extra they decided to go with their clips.
Note: this ranking will not factor singing or performance ability, but exclusively considers staging and cinematography.
Joint 13th - Mariah Rose Faith, Corey Dorris and Kim Whalen
Special shoutout to Mariah’s dress/lipstick coordination, but with plain white backgrounds, neutral lighting and no props these three legends are just resting on pretty. Corey’s hat is not only not in slightest bit scary, but also adorable and I want to adopt it and give it a hug.
Joint 10th - Angela Girratana, James Tolbert and Curt Mega
Very static with little going on by way of scenery, but these three do switch it up a bit with their use of lighting, so credit where credit’s due. Special mention to James Tolbert for going with blue lighting which is non-obvious as a spooky lighting choice, but it really works.
9th - Robert Manion
Now we’re starting to get into people who understood the assignment. While I do appreciate the black eye filter for being genuinely terrifying, the fact that he decides to use three different filters in this video (including the contradictory white eye and the gold fleck effect shown on the right above), means that this ends up giving off ‘I just discovered filters’ vibes as opposed to spooky ones. This attempt is also undermined by costuming. I feel like this shirt is just what he was already wearing that day and while the hat is significantly less adorable than Corey’s, it is not any spookier.
8th - Jaime Lyn Beaty
Despite having gone to the MaCorKim school of backgrounds and lighting, the skull is fun and well used to fit with the lyrics of the song. My only question is who’s skull is it? (Probably Sam’s lets be honest)
7th - Nick Lang
Is this man wearing makeup??? Did this man put on makeup for a 3 second appearance??? That is commitment to his craft. We also have to mention the fact that he only appears for the line ‘Daddy’s gonna get you’. Does this imply he will be playing the eponymous role of Daddy in season 2. Who knows? (he does). Also, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again STAR. WARS. LIGHTING.
6th - Jeff Blim
Look at this absolutely feral beast. Despite the fact that out of everyone he would have been the most able to get away with just singing in front of a wall he decided to kick it up a notch anyway. The use of the hair dryer is inspired, and I hope Beyonce is looking into replacing her famous hair fans with this absolute madman. I would also like to shoutout his camera and lighting set up for being so high definition that it genuienly makes AVPM look like it was shot in the middle ages. Werk bitch.
5th - Matt Dahan
This man punched a hole in the 4th wall so hard he should start drinking monster and change his name to Kyle. I would, however, like to draw your attention away from him and towards what is on his computer. As far as I can make out it says ‘Hatchetfield High School’ I can’t read the line below it (maybe a school motto) and then ‘[something] the apotheoses since 1834′. WHAT DOES IT MEAN WHAT DOES IT ALL MEAN WHO THE FUCK IS PEPE SILVIA. The picture looks like 3 men with massive hands chasing another guy with normal hands in a planetarium (????)
@hatchetfieldtheories you got anything here??
4th - Jon Matteson
Excellent choice going for the TGWDLM background and given that the colours change I’m actually not sure how he achieved this effect. We also need to appreciate the fact that he is the only person who’s gone to the effort to dress up as a Hatchetfield character. While admitedly Paul’s costume is by far the easiest to replicate, as we learned from AVPSY tying a tie can be deceptively difficult. I would also like to question, based off this, whether this is actually Jon Matteson or is in fact actually Paul himself. Infected of course, otherwise he would not be in a musical. Great work from Jon.
3rd - Dylan Saunders
We get it Dylan, you have a garden. He is the first person on this list to not only take us to an interessting setting but also make use of space by moving about. Whether he’s being chased by a serial killer, is a serial killer chasing us, or a la Aladdin in Twisted it’s a bit of both, the way the man creeps about his garden definitely gives off evil murderer vibes and I am living.
Does anyone else feel like this wasn’t so much a performance, as just where Dylan was at mentally in lockdown? If so, mood.
Joint 1st - Lauren Lopez & Joey Richter
COUPLES THAT SCARE THE SHIT OUT OF PEOPLE TOGETHER, STAY TOGETHER. These two have it all. Matching costumes (take note Corey and Robert this is how you do spooky head gear), upwards facing lighting and crucially movement about the space to reflect shifting tones in the song. These two were dynamic, genuinely scary, and met the brief perfectly.
I am, however, only going to give this one a 9.8 out of 10 because there’s always room for improvement (specifically a lack of Dianne in a matching black hoody)
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remus lupin x fem!reader
summary: remus sees you tutoring someone before a full moon, and he gets jealous.
word count: 3.1k
warning: fem!receiving oral, pet names, breeding kink, degrading, creampie, choking, penetration, missionary, edging, marking, possession kink, swearing, kissing, mentions of tearing up, mentions of subspace, dom!remus, sub!reader, daddy kink, size kink
a/n: this wasn’t requested but i wanted to write a long smut for 500 followers so THANK YOU. also happy birthday daddy lupin
5:04pm— fuck, you were late.
three hours of incessant tutoring, i mean making amortentia wasn’t immensely difficult but you had top marks in potions so you could’ve been biased. well that was unless you were a fifth year hufflepuff with their head up their own arse.
the only reason you agreed to use your your at liberty time was mainly because mcgonagall bribed you with house points that could’ve meant well later on.
“no— you stir anti-clockwise four times, not clockwise three times.” your teeth were gritted, in a jaw lock as your patience slowly drained because he failed to make such a simple potion yet again. a harsh sigh left your mouth while you to undergo all the steps again and fix the potion and restart it yet again.
“sorry—“ “nope, it’s fine. don’t apologize.” swiftly cutting off the younger boy with the only stoicism you had left. you were tremendously trying to restrain yourself from screaming in his face that he was keeping you from your boyfriend and all you wanted was to be done with this foolish potion.
as you were in the midst of explaining how to put the powered moonstone into the cauldron you heard the mahogany door of the library swing open with a small creak, revealing your agitated boyfriend. his face was flushed, he was angry; due to his low amount of patience and mood control of the week before the brimming moon he so effortlessly dreaded.
you watched his eyes erratically scan the room, eying every student before his narrowed eyes watched your dumbfounded figure, startled by his sudden outburst. of course, you weren’t surprised by his high-temperamental acts that landed right smack in the library but you had made a promise to a professor you had adorned and you were silently trying to create a monologue to reason with your short-tempered boyfriend.
your breath suddenly slows into shallow breaths at the view in front of you. a sharp march in your direction, walking over to your table wondering why you’re in the library with another male, that was not him. your thoughts were barely registering in your brain like a puzzle you had to quickly put together, kyle, the hufflepuff you had been tutoring finally put together in his brain to stir in the correct direction and actually finished the potion error-free.
“y/n.” you heard deep voice of your boyfriend suddenly a meter away from your sat figure on the old wood of the chair. his arms are crossed in a defensive manner, his patience suddenly cut short and anger starting to freely bubble in his tone and body language.
“yes— sorry! i was— am tutoring, erm... kyle, remus, remus, kyle.” your words sputtered by the intimidating tone of your boyfriend, attempting to ease the tension by introducing him to the hufflepuff.
what was usually to come with the full-phase of the moon is recurrent mood swings, immense possessiveness, overbearing jealousy, teeth-gritting impatience and the overflow of sorrow. yes, it was almost maddening how he just assumed anyone with a palpitating heart was interested in you.
on the other hand, it also made you tremendously turned on by his demeanour of wanting to claim you all for himself.
“oh, sorry— must’ve kept you... finished my potion. thanks for the help, y/n.” the boy awkwardly trailed off, remus freezing up at the boy just saying your name.
you were his, and he wanted everyone to know it.
the younger hufflepuff sensing the tension grabbed his satchel as well as his books and giving you a nod on the way out of the library. “remus— i promise, it’s just studying.” the sentence incoherent from the rapid blubbering of your words attempting already trying to ease your boyfriend, standing up and putting your agile hands onto his fit torso.
his body slightly loosening from your delicate touch, but still feeling the swing of his mood suddenly change back into short tempered and angered from another male keeping you from him; feeling the dominating jealously run coarse through his system sensing the feeling of of dominance about to explode through him like a firework.
as we was in a daze, his eyes narrowed onto your figure. you awkwardly shifted confused on what you were suppose to do as he stood there staring at you. in an attempt to create a less tense environment for you both you started to pack your things. your mind putting the puzzle pieces together slowly, preparing you for a long intense night.
his attention quickly snapped on your smaller figure, his whole body being able to hover over you with his slender one. he blinked at you for a moment before carding your fingers together and dragging you out of the library as subtle as possible all the way to the gryffindor tower where his dormitory had been for the last six years.
much to remus’ content, that day was quidditch practice so that knocked out both sirius and james from occupying the dorm. peter had been out with his ravenclaw partner working on a defence against the dark arts essay, which meant his dormitory was completely empty; and free for use.
as soon as the oak wood of the door was closed you were immediately pressed against it; feeling small splinters hit the back of your blouse and the feeling his abrasive fingers squeezing the sides of your throat. your flat adam’s apple bobbing his his velvety palm whilst he held you against the door.
“you’re. mine.” his tone dark and possessive, his face lowering to meet yours to the point you could feel his heavy breath fan over your flushed face; caught off guard from his actions.
“only mine to love, only mine to touch, only mine to fuck.” he emphasized his words as he spoke, his grip growing tighter on your throat feeling the tips of his fingernails graze your skin.
your breath heaving as he continued to keep eye contact slightly intimidating you, your irises blowing out in lust at the tone of his voice. “show me... show me i’m yours.” you jabbered, your voice slightly shaking in a whisper due to his hand restricting your throat but still able to keep a steady breath aside from your exceedingly high heart rate.
he was taken a back by your insist for his dominance amplified by the full moon. your sentence clicked in his brain, his other hand carding through the nape of your hair and the remaining hand holding your throat unapplying all the pressure, eventually pulling your face in his direct view, he was debating on what to do; still afraid that he might go to hard and hurt you.
he opted for the option that pursued him pushing your lips together, feeling your chapstick-coated lips meld into his. continuing his actions but slipping his tongue slip into your mouth, his familiar and comforting flavour bleeding onto your taste buds and the the tinge of mint and strawberry transfusing onto his own tongue.
the male started to squeeze the column of your throat, squeezing the sides emitting an almost incoherent whine from you. the grip he had on your hair was enough to tug you towards his four poster bed. letting your back fall against the made bed and his own body loitering above your own.
his lips were aggressively separated from yours, before you could even muster another whine his lips collided with the side of your neck. feeling his lips suck into your skin, giving little bites as he continuing his marks across the expanse of your neck.
he sat up for a moment to admire his work, looking at your neck in awe of how beautiful you look with his markings. his hands got a hold ripping off both his tie and his dress shirt from his body that was beginning to burn in desire.
he finally got his fingers around your house tie instantaneously chucking the fabric across his dorm, and jerking open your white blouse almost tearing most of the buttons that were sewed into your top in the process.
“remus— my top!” you abruptly cried out at the broken blouse that now lied on the floor. “be quiet.” he demanded, not in the mood to play little games. his lips now suckling against your collar bone, his large hands grazing down your torso and firmly digging into the sides of your waist.
you squirmed at the sudden pressure that was pressed into your sides. his other hand grabbed at your thigh vigorously melding you into his mattress, the other securely wrapping his fingers around the depth of your throat. feeling your pulsating heart through his fingers that had been plummeting in anticipation since your arrived in his dorm.
“daddy— please.” you whimpered, the sudden urge of lechery scathing your nervous system completely, drowning out any other forms of feeling. you wanted him, you needed to feel him.
“awe— you’re begging like the whore you are.” his voice in strict mockery and faux-sympathetic tone, grinning at your squirming figure beneath his own.
“m’sorry- i jus’ i need you!” continuing to plead as his face that was smirking like the cheshire fucking cat. his hand moved from the level planes of your thigh all the way to your bum, kneading the flesh, bound to become scarlet, within his smooth palms.
“be a good girl for once, and be quiet.” remus reprimanded, his tone thick and hoarse; his dominant headspace slowly blurring his vision.
he glanced upon your torso, the gryffindor pride running throughly around his veins knowingly that everyone would see the fuchsia and plum hues that rested prettily on your skin, that everyone would know whom you belonged too; him.
you stared up at his hovering body, his torso moving lower to and his lips beginning to sponge needy kisses to your lower abdomen, then further flipping up the fabric of your hemmed school skirt. ￼”dirty girl, these f’me?” the boy slurred while smirking, toying with the hem of your red-lace panties.
“mhm, yes daddy.” you feverishly nodded whilst answering your boyfriend. he snapped the red-lace against your navel once, producing a small shock through your body due to his manipulation; ultimately making your need exceedingly more in the time he spent trifling with your underwear.
“please— stop teasing daddy, i need you!” the whine escapes your throat as you spoke in anguish. the feeling of urgency for you boyfriend to touch you was plummeting through the roof as you attempted to restrict yourself from compressing your legs together and rid of the urge between your thighs.
“stop teasing? don’t you deserve it, hm?” he continued to mock at your inevitable squirming, snapping the thong right against your hip bone. hearing the small ‘snap’ that emitted from it following a small whine of need.
his face got closer, nosing at your core than further dragging the red-lace down the planes of your legs; tossing them on the oak wood floor. starting at your thighs splotching small wet kisses continuing whilst he progressed further up.
you began to card your trembling fingers through his fawn tresses, your fingers quivering from expectancy. his lips progressing further up the expanse of your inner thighs continuing to suck small splotches of vermillion on your inner thighs like he previously did across your throat. your body basically screaming ‘i belong to remus lupin!’
his eyes darted towards you once, one of your hands clutched onto his plaid bedding and the other clasping onto his roots; your head was thrown back, eyes rapidly blinking in suspense.
his to tongue made contact with your folds, feeling your arousal glaze his tongue while he constructed figure eight movements. he felt the gasp that was pulled through your lungs, and trifling moans trembling from your from your throat.
you felt remus’ tongue dive into the depths of your cunt, a small shockwave running up the crevices of your spine and settling itself in your belly awaiting for the feeling of pleasure to build.
“s’good daddy, so, s’good.” babbles of praise emitted from your lips as you clutched harder onto his fawn-coloured tresses. ￼
he continued to lap into your core, hitting sensitive spots that could make your legs mindlessly quiver. “daddy— m’gonna—“ as you were about to notify your boyfriend of your orgasam his lips pulled away entirely.
his own lips were slightly puffed out and wet from your arousal, his face slightly flushed from the dominance that had overtaken him. “y’didnt think i’d let you come that easily, did you?” remus taunted, a smirk making its way into his lips as your legs were starting to settle and the fire that was burnt into your belly had washed away like a small wave only awaiting his tongue more.
“but dadd—“ you attempted to coerce him, before he cut you off. “c’mon bunny, ‘ve got to teach you a lesson now. y’know what happens when you beg like a little whore, hmm?” he reprimanded yet again, whilst sneaking his tendril fingers back towards your thighs that he had previously marked; drawing small little swirls on the flesh of your skin.
he ran a slender finger through your folds once, feeling you spring up a bit in sensitivity. you felt tears prick your waterline in desperation, further feeling a second finger swipe through your arousal once more.
he lowered his face again beneath your skirt, kissing the skin of your navel once before putting his tongue to use: drawing lazy circles upon your clit.
your body started to feel the shockwaves of pleasure build slightly faster from the previous edge that had made your body sensitive to the touch. his abnormally large hands placed both your thighs on the density of his shoulders, pulling your cunt closer to him; his impossible werewolf strength giving him the means for his hands ableing himself to maneuver your whole body in anyway he wanted.
the burn in your lower abdomen is quickly rebuilt, pleasure running thick through your bloodstream. you were immensely fraught if he would let you finish, awaiting for the pleasure to take you in.
you felt him remove his tongue and replace its absence with his ring and middle finger, dragging through your walls that were clenching around his fingers. the sudden shock of being full beyond pleasuring you enough for your eyes to roll back, your back completely arching at his fingers dragging against your g-spot.
“daddy, daddy, please! ‘ve been good, learnt my lesson. i promise!” you jabbered in between moans at his swift fingers that could’ve had you gripping your own tresses if it weren’t for your hands being occupied with remus’ hair and his bed sheets. “let me cum, please let me cum.” gasping in a pleading and dire tone.
you felt suddenly empty again, no contact made with remus as he pulled his fingers from inside your clenched walls and swiping them through his tongue. he began to hover over your quivering body, the burn in your abdomen slowly began non-existent. you began to recoil your body; the same feeling of pricking tears making an appearance on your waterline.
“c’mon puppy, you can’t think your begging will break me now?” his tone condescending at you jutted your lips out with a pout. he ran his thumb across the expanse of your pouted lips once, before rapidly grabbing the nape of your hair forcing his bronze irises with green swirls into your own desperate-pleading eyes.
“if you’re such a good girl, you’ll cum when i say you can.” his tone strict, his hand ripping away from your tresses that began to become mangled from all the squirming you had previously endured from your orgasam pulled from you.
he quickly slotted his fingers around the buckle of his belt, swiftly pulling it off along with the material of his slack pants leaving him adorned in a pair of tight briefs. his hard-on obnoxiously present and intimidating, remus pulled your view up from his cock to his eyes with his thumb and forefinger resting under your almost-quivering chin.
“y’gonna be a good puppy and do what i tell you to, or y’gonna be bad and m’gonna have to punish you again?” remus questioned, seeing you eagerly nod at his question.
he anxiously rid himself of the intolerable tight material of his boxers. “m’little whore, this little skirt on.” he observed running the tip of his cock leaking in precum through your folds again. your body reacting to it extravagantly, additionally sensitive from his previous denied orgasams.
you panted in suspense, eyes widened and your arms grappling upon his scarred forearms that rested by the sides of your flushed face.
his velvet like hand grabbing both sides of your cheeks, jutting your lips into a recurrent pout. he smirked at your vulnerability and imprudence; the lust in your pupils directly for him.
“beg. beg like m’little fucking slut.” he spoke with a necessitated tone. you gasped a bit, suddenly feeling the immense pressure of his hands grappling at your cheeks and his prick slowly entering your cunt.
“please— please daddy, need you. need so you so, so bad. please i’ll— anything daddy, i’ll do anything.” gasping out slightly slurring your words that were mumbled, from his hands grasped on your face ; you felt as as he continued to push into you.
“finally, y’know how to do something right.” then you felt him slowly pulse in and out of you, your cunt hypersensitive feeling the pain and pleasure dance on your clit as his pubic bone rubbed against it with every thrust becoming more aggressive and rough.
from the built pleasure of seeing your writhe underneath him, his cock was ready to be overstimulated in the warmth of your cunt.
“m’little cockslut, doin’ so well f’me. gonna breed you like m’little bitch.” his voice slurred from pleasure as he praised you in the midst of his dominant blurred headspace. the building pleasure in his prick, was moving rapidly as the friction between you both building up briskly from the unabating tension and teasing.
“m’gonna cum, please, let me cum!” your voice rasped from crying out to him, and your gasps filling the empty spaces between your words.
“cum bunny, want you to cum.” his voice was sharp as he grunted, his jaw clenched almost at his point of own release but awaiting you to finish first.
at his que you sputtered out a mix of moans and ‘thank-you’s’ to him, feeling like a bunch of shock waves had warped your nervous system and releasing all of your arousal over remus’ cock. feeling like a bunch of stars at washed over your blurred vision, almost pushing you into further submission of him.
you panted deeply, trying to catch your breath feeling him plunge into your cunt one last time before his release had throughly coated your walls with his cum.
he was heavily breathing whilst he hovered over your quivering body, staying completely inside of you; keeping you full of his cum and clenched around his prick.
“that’s what happens when you’re late, m’dear.”
taglist: @fathermarty @idk-maybe-snape-did-it @kittykylax @terr0rizer @aspiringsloth20 @maddoxsmythologicalmind @georgeswh0re @amourtentiaa @dear-luna @famdomhideout @hufflepogue
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After years of working together, Pete still manages to break you.
Request: “Hi! Can I get a Pete imagine where you guys work on SNL together and you have few skits together and during one of them you can’t stop laughing”
Pete Davidson x Reader
Word Count: 2237
“Live from New York, it’s Saturday night!” You hear Kate and the host of the week announce before Lorne motions that the cameras had cut for commercial break. You and Pete had a sketch together in exactly 12 minutes and 45 seconds, and you were trying to cool your nerves.
You loved your job, writing on SNL was something you had dreamed of since you were in middle school, and now it was your reality. Of course, it was hard, the hours were long and the work was demanding. But having Pete by your side made it all bearable.
You had met on your first day, getting hired one season after him. You two were deemed the “babies” of the cast because you were the youngest, so naturally you got paired up. A lot.
At first it bothered you that you only really ever worked with one person, but after your first few episodes you grew to love Pete. Your energies matched so well, and whenever you wrote together you easily built of each other.
After 6 years of working on the show together, you had become really close friends. You were with him through all of his hard times, and you were one of the few people he let visit him in rehab. In return, he stuck by your side through everything, even when the internet tried to cancel you for an interview that was taken completely out of context.
You couldn’t pinpoint when, but at some point, you had developed real feelings for him. Obviously, you’d never tell him, not wanting to mess up your amazing friendship. But they still flourished, especially when you would be up until 6 am writing sketches and goofing around in the writer’s room. Of course, the comments from fans didn’t help your feelings either. They loved you guys. Anytime you posted Pete on your social media, they were all over it.
But you guys had denied the dating rumors countless times since they’d started 5 years ago. Even though having to hear the words “we’re just friends” over and over killed you.
You were lost in thought when Pete came up behind you, hands grabbing your shoulders and shaking you slightly. “Ready bookworm?” He asked, moving to stand next to you.
“Only if you are, Mr. jock-man.” You laughed, rolling your eyes.
The sketch you and Pete had written was a young couple on a really fancy date to celebrate their 6-month anniversary. Your character was going on the date with Kyle Mooney’s character. Both of you were the stereotypical nerd couple with glasses, suspenders, and everything else. Pete was playing your waiter, who obviously did not give a shit about his job. He was the stereotypical jock character. Your character was super attracted to him and kept paying attention to him. He loved the attention and would do things like show you his (reaaaallllyyy) lame tattoos, tell you about sports, and everything that nerds don’t like. Kyle obviously didn’t like that and kept trying to get your attention in the weirdest of ways.
It was pretty funny in rehearsals, almost too funny. Seeing Pete act so out of character was hilarious to you and having to overdramatically flirt with him felt ridiculous. You barely made it through in rehearsals without laughing, so you had to hope you could do it on stage.
“Y/N, Pete, and Kyle. You’re up.” The stagehand told you, and you grabbed Kyle’s hand, walking to the stage.
The sketch started and you were doing okay. You and Kyle had your conversation about your anniversary and your favorite Star Wars movies. But then Pete walked onto the stage in his ridiculous waiter getup. His white shirt was unbuttoned at the top and wrinkled, his black pants hanging low on his hips, and his apron only half tied. You bit your tongue to keep yourself together.
“Welcome to White Oyster, what do you want?” He said in a very bored voice. You acted interested, eyes raking up and down him. You felt ridiculous and had to swallow a laugh.
Kyle pushed his glasses up on his nose, “me and my girlfriend are here for our six-month anniversary, so we would like the couple’s special.” His nerd voice was incredible.
“Okay. Anything else?” Pete’s voice remained monotone.
You bit your lip, “do you recommend anything else?” You asked, trying to sound nerd-sexy.
You could see Pete struggling to contain a smile. “I mean, whatever. Food here is shitty anyways.”
Kyle’s mouth gaped, “can you not speak like that around my girlfriend, please?”
The sketch continued with you making flirty remarks towards Pete, him being very bored and unaware, and Kyle trying to direct your attention. After your second attempt at flirting with him, you could feel yourself breaking down.
“So, I was wondering. Do you have any tattoos?” You asked him, your elbow on the table, twirling a piece of your hair in your finger.
Pete nodded, pulling up his shirt to show the big MOM tattoo on his side that was drawn on earlier. You felt a giggle slip out, completely out of character.
You tried to cover it up and continue, “wow, you really must love your mom, huh?” Another chuckle leaving your mouth, “that’s kinda hot.”
Kyle looked at you with wide eyes, “Linda!” He screamed the name of your character
Pete shrugged, “Nah, I did it myself. It says WOW, like world of warcraft.”
You couldn’t help the laugh that fell out of your mouth, and one followed from Pete. This was a disaster. You tried to regain your composure, knowing Kyle was probably really frustrated right now. “I just think tattoos are so cool. You don’t have any, do you Darren?” You asked Kyle’s character, eyes narrowing at him. You heard a chuckle from Pete beside you and you bit your cheek.
Kyle faked looking flustered, “N-no. But I have all 7 of the Harry Potter books and 4 collectors wands.”
Pete nodded, “Oh cool, I have a Harry Potter tattoo.” He pulled up his arm to show his real tattoo.
Your eyes went wide, “Wow. That’s way cooler.” You batted your eyes up at Pete, making him break even more. Watching his face go red and his mouth lifting up with laughter made you squeeze your eyes to hide your laughter.
“But babe!” Kyle was starting to break now too. “You love my Harry Potter stuff!”
“It’s cool, I guess.”
The sketch continued with you and Pete laughing anytime you looked at each other, your energies feeding into one another. You both tried really hard to keep it together, but something about flirting with Pete made you so giddy inside that you couldn’t help it.
Eventually the scene ended and the lights went down. You knew the cameras probably caught an extra few seconds after the close of the sketch, meaning they caught you and Pete breaking down into fits of laughter.
You somehow made it offstage, faces red. “We’re so gonna get fired.” He said through giggles.
“I’m so sorry,” You started, trying to take breaths through your laughs. “I don’t know why I couldn’t hold it together.”
“You looked ridiculous.” Pete laughed, pointing at your glasses.
After the show you made your way back to your dressing room, changing into your day clothes and getting ready to leave. You finally checked your phone, which had been off the duration of the show.
Your twitter feed was filled with clips of you and Pete laughing through the sketch.
They’re so cute together #goals
Love their friendship
Get you someone who looks at you like Pete looks at Y/N
Poor Kyle ☹
The way they can’t get through a skit because they’re too in love
And they say they aren’t dating…
Can’t believe the unprofessionalism
Pete and Y/N are dating… no one can convince me otherwise
The flirting!!! The looks!!!
I would like Pete and Y/N to get married and adopt me please
Your heart melted at all the comments, a sigh leaving your mouth. You watched the video and noticed the way he looked at you anytime you broke character, it was the same way you looked at him all the time.
You shook your head, convincing yourself you were imagining it. You couldn’t afford to think like that, it would ruin your friendship.
A knock at your door pulled you out of your thoughts, “Y/N, wanna go grab a drink with me?” It was Pete.
“You can come in.” You called, and he did so. “I don’t know, I was thinking I might just go home. I’m pretty tired.” You really just wanted to go home and sort through your feelings for the umpteenth time that month.
He nodded, watching as you tossed various items in your bag, “you were great tonight.”
You giggled, “Pete I barely made it through our sketch, it was a disaster.”
He rolled his eyes, walking over to where you were at your vanity. “I messed up too, but it was fine. No one noticed.”
You leaned into the mirror, fixing your makeup slightly. Pete was very close to you, watching you through said mirror. “Trust me, Petey. Everyone noticed.” You laughed, standing up straight again.
Your back was inches from his chest, and you could suddenly feel a different sort of tension in the air. But you didn’t make any move to shift away from him. He gave you a quizzical look through the mirror and you took out your phone, turning to him.
You took in a breath at the proximity. You weren’t close enough to kiss or anything, but his chest was only a few inches away from you. You shook away the thoughts you were having and opened your twitter, letting him scroll through the tweets. He chuckled and shook his head as he read them, eventually handing you your phone back.
“People really like us together.” He said, smiling.
You rolled your eyes, “They have for the past like, 6 years, Petey. We’re funny.” You smiled moving to turn back to grab your bag, but his hand grabbed your hip and made you stay facing him.
Your mind went blank at his touch, trying to figure out if this was real or if you were just really really tired. “That’s not what I meant.” He said, quieter.
You laughed, looking away from his eyes, not really knowing what to say. “I mean, people have always thought… stuff like that.” You mumbled, trying to figure out what the hell was going on.
Pete’s eyes were searching your face, taking in every detail. “Have you ever thought about, like, why people think we’re…” He trailed off, but you knew what he was implying.
You blushed, looking down at your toes. “I mean, I guess we’re together a lot and we get on well. People just like to make assumptions, I guess.”
“Yeah, and I’m sure it doesn’t help that I can never keep my eyes off of you, even when the cameras are rolling.” He said, a chuckle following.
You smiled, looking back up at him, your brain trying to process what he just said. After a few moments of silence, you spit out a “why are you bringing this up?” Your voice was soft, almost a whisper.
He sighed, hand moving from your hip and rubbing his face lightly. “I don’t know, I’ve just been thinking a lot.” You gave him a look that told him to continue. “I mean, I think it’s kind of obvious that I like you.”
Your mouth dropped, “obvious? Pete Davidson you have been far from obvious about your feelings.” You really thought you were dreaming, hearing those words from him was just impossible.
“Are you kidding me? How many sketches do I have to write just so I can flirt with you? Have you not picked up on the fact that literally every sketch I write for you to be in we’re playing some sort of couple?” He laughed, stepping towards you, and grabbing your hips again. “Dude, and I thought I was oblivious to this shit.”
“In my defense I’ve spent the past like 6 years trying to convince myself you didn’t feel the same way.” You said, a smile crossing your face.
Pete rolled his eyes, leaning closer to you, “now why would you wanna do that?” There was a playful tone in his voice, but you couldn’t help your serious answer.
“Because I didn’t wanna read the signs wrong and mess up our friendship.” You sighed.
Pete’s smile softened, “Y/N I literally want to kill you right now for making me wait this long.” You giggled, leaning closer to him. “But you’re cute so I guess I can let it slide.”
“If I kiss you will it make up for it?” You asked, batting your eyelashes.
Pete pretended to think about it, “hmmm, maybe. You should definitely give it a shot to see.”
You rolled your eyes, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into you. Your lips touched his and it was like everything in the universe suddenly aligned. His mouth moved against yours in soft, perfect motions. His hands pulled you closer into him, your bodies molding together like it was meant to be.
When you finally pulled away for breath, he pressed his forehead against yours, a wide grin on his face. “So, about those drinks?”
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one with stones when he forgets your birthday and goes to kyles to play fifa or smth and comes home late to you crying. i need some angst😭 xx
you knew it had never been john’s intention to make plans without you on your birthday, your face crumpling in confusion as he’d waltz into the kitchen mid-morning pulling his jacket on with a quick “love you, see you later” being pressed against your lips before you even had the chance to ask where he was going.
at first you figured he was probably out buying the last ingredients for your birthday meal, or picking up a bouquet of fresh flowers from the florist; but all of those ideas would fizzle away as you received a text around noon, a photo of kyle sprawled across his floor with an xbox controller sitting on his stomach.
so you’d find yourself trailing around the house by yourself, preoccupying your thoughts by making yourself look drop dead gorgeous on the off chance that he might have something planned for the evening. your lips would be tugged into an unconvincing smile as you’d scrunch and straighten the strands of hair that you wanted to frame your face.
it was the clock that slowly drove you to a fit of sobs, the constant ticking reminding you of how late it was getting as the darkness slowly started to consume the house. you’d be too caught up in trying not to ruin your mascara with your tears that you’d not hear john finally bounce through the doors, his excited voice hollering through the house as he’d start babbling on about something stupid kyle had said. but his sentence would stop suddenly as he popped his head around the door, your hazed eyes meeting his wide ones.
“baby… what’s up?” his words would be thick with concern as he flicked the light on, the room suddenly plunged into stark light as the sight of your birthday cards that family had sent met his pupils. and he’d hang his head in utter shame, his own heart breaking in his chest as he rushed over to you, knees bent as he’d cup your blotchy face.
“oh god- i’m so sorry, so so so sorry-” john would speak fastly and full of sorrow, his fingers soft against your cheeks as you’d flinch at the realisation that he actually did forget. gaze burning into you as he tried to swallow the guilt that was trapped in his throat, not wanting this to turn into a massive fit of shouts and yells - even though deep down he knew you had every right to.
“it’s okay john-” you’d start to stutter, the back of your hands rubbing furiously at your eyes as you’d mentally beg yourself not to start crying again. but he looked utterly defeated on the floor in front of you, his body slumping over your knees as he’d wrap his arms around your thighs in an attempt to bring you closer to him.
“no it’s not okay! i’ll make it up to you, i promise- fuck, i’m so sorry,” his voice would be trembling, his words laced with remorse as he caught your eye through his thick eyelashes. and you’d place a tender hand over his head, fingers interlocking with his hair as he straightened his back slightly, “i’ll make it up to you, i promise you… happy birthday baby”.
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Would you say that you have, like, a main storyline for Batdad? I know there's a few reoccurring bits with Batdad, like how his parents abandoned him with Alfred and Bruce or how Batdad was the one to comfort Bruce when his parents died, so it would make sense that you have some sort of "official cinematic universe" for Batdad. But then again, Batdad is supposed to be some kind of self insert so I can see how there might not be some linear timeline for him.
Okay, so it's a little complex, because Batdad is generally a reader insert, so he's sort of meant to be a blank slate to fit into, but generally the same ideas are true of quote-unquote "canon" Batdad. Here's the barebones ideas behind Batdad's history. I can answer any further questions you may have!
Batdad is a pacifist. Alfred was granted full custody of him by his parents by the age of seven and Batdad has not seen them since. Batdad and Bruce legally married at 18, although they had no ceremony. Batdad is CEO of Wayne Enterprises and has run it since he was nineteen. Batdad attended Gotham University and business school while taking charge of Wayne Enterprises. During this 5-6 year period, Bruce was training around the world to be Batman. Batdad and Bruce exchanged letters during this time - Batdad more often than Bruce. When Bruce returned they had a magnificent wedding extravaganza. Batdad is far more skilled than Bruce at public speaking, manipulating people, and gaming the system, using rules to his advantage and to help others. He constantly donates and fundraises and personally helps the people of Gotham. Most criminals do not touch him, except for the particularly insane or petty.
Mr. Freeze is no longer a criminal - Batdad has him working as a paid consultant in Wayne Enterprises' medical branch in return for funding research into his wife's disease and paying for her cryogenic maintenance. Batdad also has Deadshot on permanent retainer as a bodyguard.
Batdad secretly disapproves of his husband being Batman as well as his sons becoming Robin. Batdad was the first to comfort Dick Grayson when his parents died. He also kept in touch when Dick moved to Bludhaven briefly. Until Damian, each of the Batboys becomes more comfortable with Batdad first, each of them calling him some variation of "Dad," while Bruce is given "B" at best. He is heartbroken when Jason dies and supportive of Tim becoming a Robin, if only to stop Bruce from making even more stupid decisions.
At some point, Bruce slept with Selina Kyle. Bruce also kept up a long-term flirtation with Talia al-Ghul prior to her assault of him. Batdad sometimes privately greases the wheels of bureaucracy to have certain criminals remanded to the maximum security Blackgate Prison or Belle Reve Penitentiary in Louisiana instead of Arkham.
Batdad paid for Barry and Iris' wedding. Batdad and Bruce publicly have Christmas galas, but privately they celebrate non-denominationally, although they have some Hanukkah decorations to celebrate Bruce's Jewish heritage. The only big party Batdad actually enjoys hosting is the annual holiday gathering for the Justice League.
Damian has attempted to kill Batdad fifty-six times. Eventually their relationship improved, especially after Batdad refused to fight Talia and took a sword meant for Damian. Duke Thomas was encouraged and helped by Batdad from the start, even when Batman tried to discourage him.
Batdad and Bruce Wayne publicly are sponsors and advocates for the Justice League, even if Batdad still privately doubts the efficacy of superheroic vigilantism. Batdad mediates private disputes among the members and finds close friends in Clark and Diana. Clark may be considered Batdad's best friend, and the only person in which Batdad confides all his troubles to.
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For the first line meme: It's later than he thought when the knock on the door interrupts another night of staring at the computer screen.
the heart is a muscle - post season 2, mentions of forlex , getting back together malex fic for you dear @jule1122, and @haloud, and @christchex.
It's later than he thought when the knock on the door interrupted another night of staring at the computer screen.
Mr. Jones and his last words to Michael, before he was forced back into stasis, still haunted him. “You really think there was just one ship? We were in formation, kid. What you should ask yourself is, where did everyone else go? Did they just keep zippin’ on their way to the colony? Or did they stop and take a gander at this planet and what they did to the survivors?”
The tiny bit of hope that this Max-lookalike psychopath didn’t represent the last of his species, had Michael diving back into his research behind the crash of 1947. The online conversations about Roswell had moved on to other topics since Michael had abandoned the message boards in the wake of Caulfield, but with some effort, he had found new threads detailing neighborhood folklore regarding newcomers with eerie talents, like the ability to grow food in droughts. Stories that peppered all over the world. Stories that might mean an alien colonist on Earth.
The thirst for knowledge about his planet and his people would never leave him, even if the actual urge to go had quieted down into just a soft whisper. Life was finally good in Roswell. After the mind games of Mr. Jones, Michael could admit now that he did have a family here, even if they weren’t related by blood. Sanders, Arturo, Mimi, Michelle Valenti had all stepped in at various times to offer a guiding hand to him, or just a quiet nod of reassurance that he was valued. Max and Isobel would always be his siblings, but now he could count Liz, Rosa, Kyle, and even awkwardly in their new friendship, Maria, as extended his family now.
It didn’t escape Michael that not even in his thoughts could he attribute his feelings for Alex as brotherly. There was still a vacant place at the head of Michael’s overflowing table of family for a partner, a spouse. That somehow, the seat even as other people came and went, only seemed to fit Alex.
Except they were still just friends.
Another knock, more impatient this time, rattled the Airstream’s door. Michael sat up, placing his ancient laptop on the counter and rolled off his bed to get to his feet. His life was had changed so much in the last couple of years that he had enough people in it, friends, who dropped by his trailer at all hours of the day, not just Isobel, that he couldn’t even guess the identity of the visitor.
Backlit from the auto yard’s security lights, stood Alex Manes holding a cardboard drink holder from ‘Bean Me Up’.
“Alex,” Michael greeted, a smile already at his lips. He glanced at the coffee and back to Alex, “Couldn’t wait until tomorrow I take it?” This was part of the new normal for Michael, meeting Alex for coffee, three or four mornings a week. It was something that had grown out of a happy coincidence, Alex’s gym was near the Boys and Girls Club that Michael volunteered at, serving breakfast in the mornings and tutoring kids in math in the afternoon.
Same place at the same time, once, then twice, became a standard thing. Not a date. Just, taking advantage of the mutual collision to talk. And at first, it was awkward to share news with each other, like Alex’s dating experiences with Forrest or Michael’s attempts to recover his memories of his planet, but later things had softened into a routine. Order coffee, find a small table, and then spend the next hour playfully fending off Alex’s attempts to foist food on Michael’s side of the table while also stealing sips of his caramel lattes.
Perhaps one day Alex would realize that Michael had only ordered the ridiculously sweet coffee drinks because he knew that was what Alex preferred to drink. It was still a damn toxic hold over from Jesse Manes that Alex still persisted in ordering black coffee with no sugar. Dating Forrest might have helped Alex be open with his sexuality, there were still lessons for Alex to learn in being gentle with himself, Michael observed. The act of indulging in pleasures, instead of engaging in deprivation, it was something he struggled with as well.
In the meantime, Michael could at least help Alex in this small way, letting him ‘steal’ his lattes.
“Alex?” Something about Michael had robbed Alex of all speech as he just stared up at Michael in response, still holding the drinks dumbly in his hands. “Are you okay? What’s wrong-”
The switch from teasing to urgent concern finally snapped Alex out of his apparent stupor. “Right, nothing, um, just- since when do you wear glasses?”
Michael’s hand went to his face automatically, realizing belatedly that he was still wearing his reading glasses. He started to pull them off, blushing in embarrassment, when Alex blurted out, “They look good! On you. The glasses. Um great even.”
“Oh.” Now that. Michael did not know what to do with that.
In the yellow-wash of light, Alex was clearly the same man from yesterday’s coffee visit physically. His soft mouth was there, but it came with his standard closed expression that he must have picked up abroad, wearing it now as Michael’s least favorite souvenir. His posture was the same too, forever changed from losing his leg, straight-backed and rigid but just then, he was someone Michael hadn’t seen in a long time. That awkward stuttering response was Alex Manes, the seventeen-year-old boy who had whipped off his visor nervously in the museum, the same boy who touched with soft gliding palms newly revealed skin before snatching his hands away at the first sign that it was unwelcome.
Aware that it was his turn to stare at Alex, Michael forced himself to smile naturally, “I guess not even my alien physiology can beat back the glare of a computer screen. I forgot I had them on.”
“Did I interrupt something? I can go if you want,” Alex stopped, probably hearing the past echo between them but not in the benign way of before. “Or I can stay and help, even if it’s with surprise coffee?” This time he lifted the tray up between them, an offer or a barricade of politeness, Michael wasn’t sure.
“I’m looking for other survivors,” Michael admitted, before looking down to avoid Alex’s sharpened gaze of interest. “On the internet, obviously, since I don’t think I can trust that I could sense them with my mind.”
It was clear that Alex hadn’t forgotten any of the various tactics Jones had employed against them, but Michael in particular. A frequent repeated taunt was about how damaged their psychic abilities were for adults, to the point no one had sensed Caulfield, but that from his pod prison Jones could hear Nora calling for help nightly right until the end. The twisted knife of how Michael had grown up waiting for someone to save him. Alex pursed his lips to object, “Michael-”
“Jones was full of shit about a lot,” Michael assured him quickly, “but I think he was right about the ships, that it wasn’t just one that crashed. I’m just combing through stories, basically internet mythology, looking for clues about strangers who might have some sort of power. It’s a lot of ‘world’s biggest cucumber’ stories right now, but hey, come in, you’re the computer genius and I could use your help and your coffee.” He placed his hands on the coffee holder, carrying it for Alex and backed away from the steps to let Alex have as much room as possible to navigate the cumbersome metal steps into the Airstream.
The seating area of the Airstream had been folded away and stored in order to make room for the drying rack of his clothes from laundry day, leaving only his narrow bed for seating. Michael had half-a-minute’s pause in reconsideration. They could relocate outside to his fire pit with the cheap camp chairs, and sit pressed together elbow-to-elbow around the dim screen of the laptop between them. Or. Or they could squeeze together on his bed, a place where that sort of contact between them had always led to sex. What was the safer option for their friendship?
His heart always strayed too far from the safety of his bones when it came to Alex.
Ignoring his pounding pulse, he grabbed the coffee cup marked “Alex” and pulled it to his lips to drink and made a gesture to the bed. At least he had made the bed up earlier with clean linens, the spread was neatly tucked into the corners, almost military sharp. That made it feel slightly less risqué to him than inviting Alex into warm mussed sheets that reeked of Michael’s skin. That rain and bourbon scent that Alex had pointed out.
“Um, your coffee was the other one.” Alex picked up the abandoned cup marked with a ‘M’ and followed him over to the bed.
“No, I’m drinking the coffee I always end up with. Your black tar juice.”
Alex smiled slightly, caught out by the observation before gingerly sitting next to Michael as Michael scooted over toward the wall of the Airstream. “Yeah, I guess I do end up stealing yours.” He brought his left leg up easily on the mattress and then passed his coffee cup over to Michael’s waiting hands as he brought his prosthetic up with both hands for balance. The smile faded, as Alex reclaimed the ‘M’ cup to sip from deep in thought as he seemed to review the history of their morning encounters. “I’m sorry-”
“Alex, come on,” he teased leaning his shoulder against Alex’s. “You haven’t caught on by now? I only order that sugar monstrosity because I know you won’t let yourself do it. I don’t even like caramel that much.”
“What? Come on, that’s what you ordered that first time-”
“I ordered that for the director at the community center.” Michael placed his coffee on the window of the Airstream and concentrated on bringing the laptop back up to rest on his knees between them not daring to look at Alex. He would never be able to confess the next bit and see Alex’s too-expressive gaze at the same time. But. As he had reminded himself earlier, he needed to work on indulging in pleasures as well, not just holding on to the pylon weight of depriving himself, of never believing he was worthy of good things. And being Alex’s friend was that. A pleasure. A good thing. The best thing.
“Once I saw you though, I kinda forgot the errand I was on in the first place. Then, I might have gone back at the same time the next day. And the day after that. For reasons.” He glanced to the side, meeting Alex’s wide eyes briefly before turning back to the laptop. “So I guess it's my turn to apologize? I might have had an agenda.”
It was quiet between them, as Michael clicked through a few different forums. He wasn’t paying any attention to where his cursor landed, he just kept scrolling through window after window as a distraction because the urge to pull back, to crack a joke, to do anything but let Alex process in silence was hard to suppress but needed. That was a part of becoming friends, learning that Alex needed extra time to formulate a response, something that came from needing to shut all emotional responses off during a drone operation at work.
“Me too,” Alex replied softly. “About the agenda. I mean, I don’t even have a membership at that gym.”
Michael frowned, the words not making any sense to him.
“That first time was dumb luck, I mean, I stopped in that morning because I had stayed the night at Forrest’s for the first time and I found out he doesn’t drink coffee. Doesn’t even own a coffee maker.” Alex scoffed quietly, before leaning against Michael affectionately, “I should have known that it was doomed from the start, just on coffee alone but what really put the nail in the coffin was the fact I pretended to go to that gym for two months because I had a bag of clothes with me when you saw me.”
“That was your clothes from staying over with him,” Michael said slowly, almost to himself, before he frowned even deeper as the connections fell into place. He didn’t know whether he wanted to laugh or not, but this was a new level of avoidance of an awkward subject for Alex. It did make sense considering the timing, and maybe that was why he was confessing now to Michael because not that Michael allowed himself to show it, the early days of Alex’s relationship with the historian were difficult for him. He didn’t begrudge Alex being happy or being with someone else, but there was still an old, gnarled bit of Michael’s heart that pinched painfully at seeing the romance play out for everyone in Roswell to see. “Alex, I know you guys are dating, you didn’t have to lie about that and pretend you had gone to that gym.”
“Were dating,” Alex patiently corrected. “Pay attention, Michael. I just said it was doomed from the start.”
“Because he didn’t drink coffee?”
“Because I was engaging in a deep cover operation that involved a fake gym membership, rescheduling my appointments to the afternoon and blocking out time in my mornings all, so I could see you.” The gears were still turning too slowly for Alex’s liking as he rolled his eyes at Michael and continued, “I ended it with Forrest about a month ago. Or well, he ended it with me because I was always too busy in the morning for breakfast and I never wanted to stay over at his.”
Michael blinked, then looked down at his laptop. The ancient fan and processor were making a soft whine of effort, much like his own brain at the moment. Alex was single. Alex has been single for over a month. A month where he didn’t mention it once during their get-togethers.
Alex exhaled slowly, draining the latte before placing the cup out of range. “I’m really trying to use my words here, but you have exactly one minute to understand what I’m saying before I have to get creative-”
“Are you saying that you-”
“Still want me?”
“I never stopped,” Alex reached for Michael’s hand, stilling the rapid clicking. “I came here because I wanted to be honest with you. It occurred to me that somewhere along the line, those meetups for coffee had basically become the most important part of my day. I … I was turning them into dates in my head. With you.” He licked his lips, his eyes drifting down to Michael’s mouth, causing Michael to bite his own lip in response. The anticipation between them thickened, until Alex groaned softly, his head briefly ducking toward Michael’s. “In the past, I’ve been guilty of thinking we were on the same page, and we weren’t, so I’m- Michael, I will still be your friend no matter what, but I want-”
This time, Michael didn’t let him finish and closed the scant distance between them on the bed to kiss Alex. The laptop fell to the side of their legs as Alex surged into it, pushing Michael down flat on the mattress in his eagerness. Michael opened for Alex, letting him have whatever he wanted and buried his fingers in the soft, black hair as they traded kisses.
Suddenly, a bubble of laughter burst from Michael’s chest, the lightness of the situation that felt almost too good to be real spread through his veins. “Oh my god, you brought me coffee to tell me that getting coffee together wasn’t just getting coffee for you, Alex-”
“You need a new job, nothing in intel, sweetheart-”
“I am, I did, that is.” Alex lifted his eyebrow at Michael’s too-still pause before he sweetly brushed the long stubborn curl out of Michael’s face, “Done with the Air Force as of next month.”
“I can do that too.”
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Delicate - John Stones
I written this a couple of years ago, I just deleted and altered it. I just listened to the song yesterday and felt I needed to re-write it. I may re-write my attempt at my reputation series. But for now here we go!
Warnings: A pathetic attempt at smut
Special mention to @wheelergrealish for reading this before I posted this, you’re a star
You laid in bed, staring at the ceiling. The room was in complete darkness and your thoughts were with a certain footballer. Who had you met just over a couple of weeks when you attended your best friend boyfriend football match. It was what you ‘needed’ after you broke up with your now ex. That was when you met him.
You had started dating, but it was very casual. You couldn’t even call it dating. You had been on one date, had sex, well you lost count on that. Both of you reeling from each other’s break ups. Both afraid to properly commit, or even label what you are.
It wasn’t something you both had really talked about, but you knew he would avoid that conversation on purpose. You knew it was because he hadn’t directly told you. He was a little careful because of how his last relationship had been so full on.
Elle, Ella? you couldn't remember.
Your phone that laid on your nightstand suddenly lit up, casting a dim light in the dark bedroom. Reaching for the phone, you squinted at the brightness as it hit your eyes to read the text.
Dive bar on the east side. Where you at?
You looked at the time and jumped up, jumping out of bed, realising that you had lost track of time in your thoughts yet again. He was at his best friend’s party and had asked you to meet him there for the night.
You hurried to your closet and put on the plain black dress you knew he liked. He didn’t tell you that of course, you we’re both shy when it came to complimenting each other. As you grabbed your purse and hurried out of the apartment, telling yourself you would do your make up in the Uber as you thought to yourself.
He's taking up too much of my headspace.
You stood outside the bar, it was old and around the corner from the river. It was so peaceful except for the music that was booming inside the bar. The wooden sign hanging over it, slightly rusty. But from the outside, you could see through the glass that it was a small, cosy place. You wondered what a footballer like Kyle chose somewhere like this. But you hesitated because though it looked like a place you would love to be, it was very crowded.
You avoided crowded places and had gotten use to the quiet. After your breakup with your ex, you couldn’t stand being around the crowds, judging. You hesitated outside the door for a moment before inhaling deeply as you walked into the bar.
You couldn’t see him anywhere, so you made your way straight to the bar, you wanted to avoid conversations with people. As you made your way over to the bar and sat on the stool and started to tap the bar waiting to be served. You looked around to see if you could see him, but nothing.
Dark jeans and your Nikes, look at you Oh damn, never seen that colour blue
You were served, which annoyed the bloke that had joined next to you, moaning about the service. You turned around to see that he was making his way over to you. You noted his outfit, black jeans, Nikes that fitted well. He had a light colour blue shirt that you couldn’t quite place it with the outfit, but you liked it on him.
“Let me buy this lady a drink.” The man slurred at the bartender that handed you a glass of wine.
“No thank you,” you muttered before the man laughed at you.
“Oh, come on.” The man slurred again, this time he started to lean over to you.
“No thank you.” You pulled back. You hated strangers, they made you even more nervous that before. Ever since your reputation was ruined by your breakup with your ex, you we’re constantly being judged by everyone. Your reputation was damaged over something you couldn’t control. Yet you had the shit to deal with.
“Back off buddy.” A voice says to the stranger as he slipped his arms around your waist.
“I’m just trying to buy her a drink,” The man spoke.
“Her drink is on me,” John said in a calm tone. “Now back off,” He repeated.
With that, the man left, and he sat next to you on the barstool that just became vacant. “I’m sorry about that, I should go come over.”
“It’s not your fault,” you whispered, shaking your head. “I’m used to it now, my reputation never been so worse, so” you trailed off, letting out a sigh.
“Well, I don’t care about that,” He says quietly as he took your hand from the bar.
“You must like me for me, huh?” You say with a small smile.
“I do,” said, planting a kiss on your hand. "And I promise that-"
"We can't make any promises now, can we?" you say, cutting him off with a peck on the lips as you leaned across.
He smiled warmly and after hesitating for a few seconds, leaned across to kiss your forehead. With that, he turned away to get the barman’s attention. you stared at his back, swallowing thickly, resisting the urge to touch his shoulder.
Is it cool that I said all that? Is it chill that you're in my head? Cause I know that it's delicate
As you pulled up outside his house, you were worried for a moment if it would be alright with you just showing up without warning. You had been going out nearly a month. Things were just the same. Nothing had changed.
You were starting to feel a little anxious as you realised that you were the one taking the relationship seriously, worried that he didn’t. It frustrated you that things were going so slow, yet so fast.
When you were together neither of you could keep your hands off each other, and they had sex anywhere but each other houses. Cars, even in the changing room once when you visited on a training session. But you hadn’t been to his house and neither had he yours.
When you’re with him, the question was always on the tip of the tongue, but almost as if he knew what you were thinking, he'd kiss you and then, everything was history. Temporarily at least, till the thoughts came crawling back.
Stop right there.
You simply could not afford to be the one who invested more in this relationship. Did he want it slow? That was fine, perfectly fine. He did not want to talk about it. That was cool too.
It was just fine.
Frowning from your thoughts, you were still debating whether to go and knock on his door. Thoughts interrupted when you heard a tap on the window making you jump. You turn to find him stood there, in a hoodie and shorts, standing there with a half-amused smile. Grinning sheepishly at him, you rolled her windows down. “Hey.”
“Hey.” He replies, crouching to give you a kiss on the lips. “What are you doing?” He asks.
You looked at him, hesitantly before answering. "Honestly? I thought you were training, so I just sat here." you lied.
He raised an eyebrow, his smile widening. "Well, I’m off today...that’s why my car is in the drive."
"Yeah...that explains that" you say, looking down at your steering wheel embarrassment. “Do you fancy coming for a drive?” you blurted out.
John looked at you and straightened up “I-Sure, but you’re a good driver, right?” He teased.
“Um, I don’t have my license...so” you joked, which John looked at you are laughing. “Let me lock up.”
The drive was silent, a comfortable silence. As you gripped the steering wheel for dear life as you drive down up the street you lived; you were going to turn off towards the lakes one of your favourite spots.
“This is the street you live on, right?” John asked.
“Uh...yeah I share an apartment with my best friend” you explain, quietly. Looking across at him, “Do you want to see my place?”
JOHN looked over at you and nodded, “Sure. I’d love too,” He says.
The third floor on the West Side, me and you. Handsome, your mansion with a view. Do the girls back home touch you like I do?
A few minutes later, you were both standing outside your apartment door as you fumbled with the keys nervously, grateful that your best friend wasn't home. The door clicked open, and you gestured for John to enter first, flicking on the lights as you followed.
You kicked off your shoes and taken off your coat as watched John looking around the apartment quietly, and you could see him processing everything he was seeing. Suddenly, you felt quite nervous because you knew the décor were not really his thing and it was small, his house was about 5 times the size of the apartment.
"I know it isn't your style or big but-" you started, but he you off.
"I love it," he said with a half-smile, turning to you.
You smiled at him and felt yourself relax a little and walked over to him slowly, satisfied when you saw his eyes darken a little. As soon as you were within touching distance, John pulled you towards him and kissed you. His arms wrapped around your back, engulfing you completely, as his fingers splayed across the length of her waist. He started to tug at the hem of your shirt,
You instinctively guided him towards the couch, leading him there while the two of you were still kissing. Both fell on to the couch, His lips kissing yours all down your jawline before meeting her lips.
Maybe this wasn't so bad after all.
For two weeks after they'd gone to her place, you had started to drop by the training ground unannounced. Almost all your visits always ended with a night spent in your apartment. Other than that, JOHN dropped by during the days when he wasn't at training or a game.
Despite all the time you both were spending together; you hadn't spoken about where you were going or what you were to each other. The only thing you knew was you both wanted each other, and that he was in your head almost all the time. You tried to tell him that you didn't like when he left the apartment, and you'd be wide awake listening to the fading echoes of his footsteps, desperately wanting to tell him to stay.
Echoes of your footsteps on the stairs, stay here, honey, I don't want to share
But the last time you were around your apartment, you were woken by an annoyed best friend, she had thrown a fit; she was tired of either going to her boyfriend’s place or being kept awake by the two of you. She would like to spend at least one silent night at her own house.
Now you were stood outside John house, waiting for him to open the door. Seconds later, the door opened, and he stood in the doorway grinning at her. “Hey, Y/N.”
“Hey, John,” you say shyly.
You could feel your cheeks burning, you were still shy around him after all this time. He stepped aside so you could walk through the door. Placing his hand on your back as he guided you in. He took your coat and purse and laid it on the table neatly by the door. He looked at you and around. “This is home.” He says quietly.
Your face turned red, once again stricken by how he didn’t hesitate. In the first week, he was always careful, and though you both hadn’t talked about anything, all these subtle things that he had started doing; small kisses, playing with your hair, hand-holding every time you were out and people staring. These things have her stupid amounts of happiness, and you knew you had fallen for him hard.
Cause I like you
“So, I know you love the notebook,” he started. “So, I thought we could, maybe watch it tonight?” He suggested.
You looked at the table that had a bowl of popcorn, and the DVD, tears filled your eyes. He listened to you babbling on about random things.
You looked at him, “it’s perfect!” you say kissing his cheek.
John half was watching the film but was watching you as you were indulged in the movie. He smiled as he went back to watching the film.
You had turned to see that John was watching you wipe away the tears “I just love this film, so much,” you say defending says, smiling.
John smiled and kissed your forehead, “I know.”
You had let out a small laugh, and her hand travelled upwards from his chest to bottom of his t-shirt. You leaned up to him kissing him. His hand left the armrest of the couch and rested on the side of your face, tracing along your jawline with his thumb; John knew you loved it when he did that.
"Bedroom," he whispered rapidly, pulling back for a second.
He stood up and offering his hand you and lead you up to his bedroom. After he closed the door behind him, he turned around and crashed his lips to yours again. You impatiently began to pull at the hem of his shirt, and chuckling softly, he left your lips for a second to pull his t-shirt over his head before going back to kissing you. Flipping you around, your back now to the door and continued to kiss.
You let out a satisfying and let your hands travel down towards his pants, teasing him slightly over his boxers, growling, he started to back away, pulling you with him towards the bed. When the back of his knees hit the edge of the bed, he turned around to you and pulled away from your lips. Both of you we’re breathing heavily, and he gave you a gentle nudge, so you fell back on to the bed.
Sliding his hands under your skirt, his fingers teased your hipbone before starting to remove your pants. You were already slipping out of your top, arching your back slightly as you pulled it over your head and threw it away recklessly before lying back down entirely. He bent down to kiss you, supporting himself with one hand while the other travelled back down to tug at your skirt.
Once that was off, his mouth moved from your lips to your chin, and then to your collarbone, one of your weak spots. He was moving slowly, from the top of your breasts to gentle kisses on your stomach, teasing you into frustration. Finally, his mouth travelled to between your legs, and your eyes fluttered closed as he teased you endlessly with his tongue, alternating between soft caresses and firm kisses. You began to whisper his name, request clear in your voice until he complied with your requests. Your hands clutched the sheets as you arched your back, each thrust eliciting a louder groan.
Your hips bucked, meeting thrust for thrust, as both of your moans fuelled each other's fires further. Finally, you felt yourself climaxing under him, and he followed soon after. He collapsed on top of you, both of your bodies shuddering with the release of desire you had just experienced. After laying on top of you for a few quiet minutes, John kissed your collarbone and rolled off you, lying next to you both catching your breath.
Sometimes I wonder when you sleep. Are you ever dreaming of me?
He slid one arm under your neck and pulled you into his side as you marvelled for the umpteenth time on how well you both fit together. You turned towards him and watched him quietly as he fell asleep. your eyes traced his jawline, and you were unsure whether to stroke the hint of stubble he hadn’t bothered to shave. You saw his eyes flicker towards you at his touch, but you didn’t back away. You knew you wanted more. This man-made you feel things no one ever had in a short space of knowing him, and you loved it. As you looked at him thoughtfully, he turned on his side to face you.
“What are you thinking about?” He asked
You looked at him hesitantly, swallowing nervously, this was it. You could either lie and worm your way out of it or just talk to him. You knew how that would end, he would either reject you and say you’re on different pages all this... or this could go somewhere, somewhere much better than where it was now.
Sometimes when I look into your eyes, I pretend you're mine, all the damn time
Leap of faith. Do it, Y/N.
"I like spending time with you, John" you say softly into his shoulder. "An-And I don't like it when you leave. When you go, I keep wondering if there're other girls who touch you like I do, you know?”
"Y/N I don't-" John started.
"I know, I know, you don't, John. It's just my mind messing with me because of... you know... I just worry, that's all. I feel like I'm sharing you with everyone else, and I don't like it. That's weird, right?" you sighed but continued. "I guess it's just because... Because... I don't know what we are to each other, you know? We never really talked about it. Am I your girlfriend? I just need to know. It drives me crazy and I just..." you trailed away, eyes still on his shoulder, too scared to look at his face.
"I don't know. I just really, really like you, John," You finished with a whisper, a heavy weightlifting off your shoulders.
You laid still, your hand starting to drum a nervous rhythm on his chest. You could feel him tense, and the panic began to build as you struggled to find words that could erase what you'd just said; to make light of what you just said. "Um, sorry, is it uh... cool that I said all that?"
Cool!? Really, Y/N?!
"I mean, I know that things are kind of... I-I know that it's delicate."
When he still hadn't said anything, you finally looked at him apologetically, asking defeated. "Isn't it?"
Closing his eyes at your tone for a second, he finally turned to look at you. "It is," he said softly, but continued. "But someone had to ask, and I'm sorry that I was too much of a coward to say that."
"And... you are my girlfriend. I thought you knew that" John said, and when your eyes widened off guard and you opened your mouth to say something, but he cut your off. "Yeah, I'm sorry for not getting around to tell you I thought that."
Then, removing his arm from under your neck, he now turned on his side to face you fully. "I like you too, Y/N. I like you a lot," he said thoughtfully. "I'm glad you're around."
He turned kissed your forehead, firm but soft and pulled back with a grin. "And nope, it isn't too soon. I'd say it was about damn time."
Cause I know that it's delicate
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A bit late for Kyle’s birthday - but that’s fitting because roughly a few days after Kyle’s birthday was the first time I got into sp fandom!
The end of this month marks my 10 year anniversary... so I thought it fitting to compare a new Kyle to my very first attempt at drawing him lol. Sadly not my best attempt but my recent art really shows the change lol.
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Yakko x Reader Scenario: When You First Meet
'This is it. The beginning of the end.'
Gripping on the straps of her backpack, (Y/n) exited the bus and stared up at the water tower that displayed the famous Warner Bros. logo. As expected, it emitted a smug aura onto the entire area; however, surprisingly, there was a slight twinge of mystery to it as well. But she didn't have time to ponder about it, so she only gave it an uneasy look and headed straight for the entrance.
Her heart stopped. She knew the place was going to be busy, but it was like an entire New York City packed in one section! So many writers, producers, actors, large men carrying heavy sets, every type of person working in film was scattered all over the place. It was like an ocean, with the people as marine life doing what they're designed to do, and (Y/n) being the puppy that was abandoned at sea.
The moment it all settled in, an involuntary realization invaded her thoughts. 'I don't belong here.'
The young girl reminded herself to breathe and rushed over to a vacant wall, then pulled out her phone. She had already sent her mother about a thousand messages telling her she was here, but since she hasn't responded, a few more shouldn't hurt. Fingers rapidly typing away, she bit her lower lip, already wishing she had stayed on that bus.
"Oh, you're just gonna love it!" Her mother's squealing voice had already filled her skull. "You're so talented, I know you're gonna fit right in."
'Yeah, standing around all day with a bunch of people I don't know while doing something I suck at is exactly how I wanna spend my summer.' She let out a soft sigh. 'It's fine. Just shut up and make her happy, (Y/n).'
Several attempts of calling and texting later, no response. (Y/n) sighed again, and her eyes wandered over to the bustling crowd. 'No way. Absolutely no way.' But if she wanted to get the day over with, absolutely yes way.
First, she walked up to a lady looking down at the clipboard in her hands. "Um, excuse me," (Y/n) said.
The lady's head snatched up. "KYLE!" she yelled, her eyes now ablaze with fury, "YOU IDIOT! THAT GOES IN THE WAREHOUSE ACROSS THE STUDIO!" And like there was nothing but a breeze behind her, the lady stomped off to the poor soul that had to face her wrath.
The breeze took a step back and ran around the corner. 'Maybe I'll find someone else instead…!' (Y/n) stopped and spotted a man sitting on the steps that lead to the entrance of a small building. She swallowed whatever was left in her mouth and reluctantly approached him.
"E-Excuse me, sir?" she stuttered, hoping her voice was louder than the last time. As she got closer, (Y/n) noticed he was chuckling, and his gaze was glued onto a small piece of paper.
"I...I did it…!" he said. She yelped and shrinked back when he suddenly jumped to his feet. "I FINALLY DID IT! WE'LL SEE WHO'S REGRETTING THE DIVORCE NOW, MARGARET!" And with a manic laugh, the man dashed into the building.
'...Or maybe I'll just find it myself.'
It wasn't too long before (Y/n) got herself lost. Despite the help of maps that were stuck to some of the buildings, all of them seemed exactly the same. It was like a maze, and with each passing minute, she was more and more convinced that there was no finish line. Even worse, her mother was too busy to respond to anything she sent her.
'Oh, what should I do?' (Y/n) thought for the thousandth time. No matter how hard she pinched or held them, her arms refused to stop trembling. Not too long ago, the outside of the studio became deserted and she'd hate to walk in a warehouse and possibly interrupt something important, so asking for help again was out of the question.
...Or, perhaps it wasn't.
A tiny, hopeful smile crossed (Y/n)'s face when she heard the sounds of frustrated grunts around the corner. It was the first time she was so relieved to see a stranger.
And thank god that stranger was a security guard. Though she wondered why he had a giant net in his hand, she shoved the curiosity as far in the back of her mind as she could and reached up to gently tap his shoulder.
"Um, excuse me sir?" she asked as loud as she could.
His head whipped around, revealing angry eyes and a scowl that said he was ready to kill. But right as his gaze landed on her, it changed within an instant.
"Oh, hello!" he said with a bright smile.
(Y/n) blinked, cocking her head. ‘What was this guy up to?’
"I'm sorry to bother you, but do you know where (M/n) (L/n) is filming? I'm her daughter, (Y/n), and I'm trying to look for her. She's not answering her phone either."
His joyful expression slowly melted into a confused one. "Uuhhh…(M/n) (L/n)?”
“Yes. She’s a part of Animal Kingdom? Do you know where that’s being filmed?”
“Oh! I know there’s a zoo around here called Animal Kingdom! I don’t think you’ll find it in a film studio, though.”
(Y/n) frowned. “...No, I mean the show. Aren’t they filming in a warehouse today? Do you know where that is?”
Her eye twitched, and she was just about ready to drown the entire studio in the nearest ocean. “N-Nevermind, I’ll just-”
As if the universe wasn’t satisfied with tormenting her enough, the security guard suddenly launched up into the air and flew into the sky. Right before her eyes, the heavens were coated with explosives of every color that ever existed.
“Oh my god!” (Y/n) yelled. ‘Who strapped fireworks on that guy?!’
“Oh, I knew you’d love it!”
Her eyes were ripped from the loud fireworks show as she was immediately smothered in a hug. “It’s so nice that another girl’s here! All the other ones here are either too busy or just keep shouting about a restraining order for some reason. I dunno, but anyway, I just know you're gonna love it here! Anyway, my name’s Princess Angelina Louisa Cantessa Francesca Banana Fanna Bo Besca the third! But since we're friends now, you can just call me Dot.”
This confirmed it. This was a trap set up by her mother to deliberately drive her insane, because how else can someone explain the nut jobs and talking dogs in pink dresses?
A combination of those two things happened to be clutching her head and digging her face into hers. “...Huh?” (Y/n) mumbled.
‘Dot’ jumped off of her and smiled widely. “Sorry about Ralph by the way. I figured out you were coming at the last second and I really needed someone for your welcoming gift.” she said.
(Y/n) glanced up at the sky where the fireworks were slowly dying down. “Um...Is he gonna be okay?” she asked.
“Of course he will!” her backpack said.
The teen screamed and threw her bag on the ground. A hand popped out and unzipped it with impossible ease, then a taller boy version of Dot jumped out, pulling up his long brown pants and flashing a grin.
“H-...H-H-How did you…?!” (Y/n) stuttered, pointing at him.
“What? Never heard of cartoon logic?” he said, approaching her. “And Ralph’ll be fine. His skull’s so thick, concrete’s the last thing that can kill him.”
“Anyhow,” he walked over to Dot and put an arm over her shoulder, “The name’s Yakko, this here’s my beloved baby sister Dot, and this is-” He stopped, staring at the empty space to his left. He leaned into Dot, whispering, “Say, uh, you don't mind looking for Wakko, do ya sis?”
Dot glanced at (Y/n) for an uncomfortable moment and suddenly shot her brother a glare. "I've got eyes all over this studio, Yakko," she warned, slowly stepping away.
Now (Y/n) certainly knew she didn't see pairs of eyes appear around every inch of her sight. 'Oh god, I didn't breath in drugs on the way here, did I? Actually, that would explain whatever the heck's going on.'
Yakko smiled as he watched his sister leave and turned to (Y/n). He walked closer to her, and she realized that his half-lidded eyes had a strange glint in them. “Sooo, your name’s (Y/n), right? A pretty name for a pretty girl.”
(Y/n)’s face heated up. ‘First I get lost, then see a guy get blown up, and now some other guy’s flirting with me? ...To be honest, this is still better than what Mom had planned for today.’
“So what brings ya’ here?” he asked.
“O-Oh, well, my Mom was supposed to give me a tour of the studio, but I’ve been giving that to myself all day. I tried finding her, but I’m pretty sure I’m nowhere near it by now.” Her eyes wandered over to the ground, but a realization made them perk back up and over to Yakko. “Hey, do you happen to know this place by any chance?”
“Know it? Please, my sibs and I live here, we know this place by heart and soul!” He mumbled something else, along the lines of “Basically made our hearts and souls”.
Her heart jumped; finally, a piece of good news. “Really?” she said, a smile spreading across her face.
He nodded. “So where do ya’ need to go?” Before she could answer, he pulled out a piece of folded paper and moved in so close, their shoulders were smooshed together. Yakko unfolded it, and it turned out to be the biggest map (Y/n) has ever seen. “Well, from here, you’re gonna need to take a right and continue straight until you get to the Harry Potter and Fantastic Beasts exhibit. But be careful, I heard some of them escaped, and if anyone asks if you’ve seen any of them, don’t tell them I gave one to Dot as a late birthday gift. Anyway, you take a left from there, then a right where you’ll see the lot where they used to shoot Game of Thrones. Now this is only a rumour I’ve heard, but I think some of the producers are still on that set. If you happen to see them, do not, I repeat, DO NOT mention season eight, or maybe just don’t mention the show at all. Actually, don’t even look at them. As a matter of fact, you probably shouldn’t even go there at all, just keep heading straight until you get to the D.C. Universe lot. Then you just take left there, then a sharp right over over, then you keep going straight until you get to here, turn up over there, turn right there, and then you’re there. Did ya’ follow all that?”
(Y/n) stared at his face, which was practically radiating with enthusiasm, and she felt her eye twitch again. “...No,” she said, shaking her head.
His smile dimmed, but it became just as bright as the sun again a split-second later. “Ah well, maps are gettin' old anyways,” he said, throwing the map over his shoulder. “WAKKO!!”
And, low and behold, another anthropomorphic dog popped out of nowhere, and (Y/n) was starting to question if there was an army of them hidden somewhere. But she had to admit, it was pretty cute how this one was dressed in an oversized blue sweater and red hat.
“Tablet, please,” Yakko said politely, holding out his hand.
‘You're not gonna walk me there-?'
Wakko suddenly held his head back with his cheeks puffed out, then leaned into Yakko’s hand as he forced out a small object from his mouth. After an incredibly uneasy moment, a tablet glazed in spit was in Yakko's grasp. While he praised the little guy, (Y/n) forced back the urge to vomit.
“E-Ehhhh…?” She couldn’t say anything else while her gaze frantically went back and forth from Wakko and the regurgitated tablet.
“Oh! Where are my manners?” Yakko said. “(Y/n), this is my dear little brother, Wakko. Wakko, this here’s our new special friend, (Y/n).”
“Hello!” Wakko greeted, who was suddenly in her arms. “You’re really pretty!”
“Ehh? Thank you? I guess??” she said apprehensively, and finally managed to make eye contact. Despite his...quirks, he's actually a little adorable... She let herself grin a little.
The moment of semi-peace was ruined when she took notice of Yakko’s narrowed eyes. “ALrighty, (Y/n)!” he said loudly, grabbing his little brother by the collar and gently setting him on the ground. “Animal Kingdom, right? Let’s get ya’ right over there.” He moved right beside her and taped the screen a couple times.
“Um, what’re you doing exactly?” she asked.
“Doing what every person does to get somewhere nowadays.” He grabbed her waist and pulled her against him, and (Y/n) flinched from his touch. “Please keep your arms, legs, and personal items inside the tablet at all times.”
Just when she was about to question him for the hundredth time, he pressed the screen again, and her vision became nothing but white. Her body felt like it was launched into a tornado; a strong force of wind thrusted her back, and somehow, the boy’s arm kept her from flying off from his side. A second later, her feet were back on the ground, the sky was where it needed to be, and reality was back in place.
Except for (Y/n)’s mentality.
She stumbled around, trying to find her balance as the world unbearably whirled around her. Finally, she shook her head, and quickly turned back towards Yakko, whose face tried to tell her whatever happened was perfectly fine and normal.
“What was THAT?” she yelled, staggering towards him and gripping his shoulders.
And he still had the audacity to have that 'why-are-you-freaking-out-so-much-we-do-this-every-Friday' smile. “Thank you for attending Warner’s Travel Tours! I would say my Agent Ralph’ll take your bags, but I left him alone with my sibs, so he’s probably in the middle of the Pacific Ocean by now.”
(Y/n) could only stare at him. Her mind was twisting and turning, trying so hard to make any sense of what happened but only making her headache grow larger and larger. And then, her thoughts just went blank.
She smirked. Then giggled. And a few seconds later, she had burst out laughing whilst holding her stomach. (Y/n) looked back up at Yakko, wiping a tear from her eye. “Th-Thank you…” she said, catching her breath.
His smile had grown and she thought his white cheeks were red for a moment. Yakko had opened his mouth, but whatever he was about to say was cut off by a net suddenly covering his entire body. Ralph was behind him, his skin and clothes burnt and ears practically smoking. “You’re coming with me, Warner!” he said.
And yet, Yakko only grinned. Like physics was his enemy, he disappeared from inside the net and appeared sprouting from the security guard’s back, cheerfully waving at (Y/n). “I’ll see ya’ around, yeah?” he said, then ran around the corner with Ralph sprinting right after him.
(Y/n) giggled and reached for the straps around her back. But when she only felt the (f/c) fabric of her shirt, her smile dropped, and a deep sigh escaped her lips. “Great…” she whispered.
She gasped as a pair of arms squeezed the life out of her. Her mother spun her around to face her gleaming smile, which was immediately replaced by an apologetic frown. “I’m so sorry I didn’t get your texts! That scene took forever, but I’m glad you found your way here! You’re so smart! Anyway, I know we don’t get as much time now, but there’s still so much we’ll be able to see!...”
She rambled on and on and on and on. Her daughter’s shoulders slumped and she followed her to where she wanted her to go, but the frown on her face didn’t last long when she remembered the fun she had just a few seconds ago. ‘Maybe this summer won’t be that bad.’
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i’m hoping at the gates they’ll tell me that you’re mine [c.g.]
cordelia goode x fem!reader
summary: the new Supreme meets an old flame
disclaimer: sexual nature, strong language, brief angst
author’s note: if i wrote for marie laveau would anyone read it? because i’m so in love with that character
gif belongs to @colleenwing
Knock. Knock. Knock.
The set of knocks drew the Supreme’s attention away from her place at the dining table. Her eyes landed on the front door as she waited for Kyle to attend to the door as he usually did.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Another set of urgent and persistent knocking coaxed her towards the door, after setting down her book and reading glasses. She stood and moved towards the hallway.
Before she could reach the door, the boy jetted down the stairs and mumbled a string of apologies to the blonde who simply smiled and excused him softly.
Still, she watched as he opened the door and softly asked, “How can I help you?” She listened.
The voice on the other side made Cordelia’s heart stop as she recognized the soft tone, “I’m looking for Delia.”
She shook her thoughts; it couldn’t be her, could it?
Kyle stepped aside for the visitor to step in, that’s when you came into Cordelia’s view.
You hadn’t changed in the months since she had last seen you. Your hair still fell gently at your shoulders, your eyelashes batted softly against your rose-colored cheeks. Her heart nearly skipped a beat.
“Y/n...?” She spoke it as a question, all though she could tell clearly that it was you stepping through the doorway.
You met her soft brown eyes, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips.
As your reached out to her, her eyes began to harden and her lips tucked into a line. “Go away.” She huffed, her stare quickly becoming cold.
You blinked at her, treading carefully as you stepped closer. “I know I’ve been gone for a long time.” You spoke, clearing your throat softly.
She stepped back, shaking her head. “I want you to leave.” She added, turning on her heel and shuffling up the stairs.
You followed her, swiftly ducking into the room she disappeared into before she had time to slam the door in your face. “Darling-...”
She cut you off quickly, “Don’t ‘darling’ me, y/n.” Her words were harsh, they dripped with an anger that was rare coming from her.
“You don’t get to do that to me! You don’t get to leave for months with no explanation then come back and act like everything is fine!” She hissed, anger bubbling in her throat.
Her eyes were much darker now, her cheeks burning a bright red color. “Do you know how many times I tried to call you? How long I cried over y-you?” Her voice faultered as her eyes began to pool with angry tears.
You shook your head, “And I have an explanation. That’s why I came here today.” You defended, reaching out for her once again.
“Don’t touch me!” She attempted to yank her arm away from you, her own force causing her to stumble backwards and nearly fall.
You reached forward, without thinking, and pulled her into your arms. She fit perfectly in the space between them, her curves leaving a pathway for your arms to circle around her.
Your eyes locked, almost distracting you from the blush that burned her cheeks. She huffed softly, trying her best to fight the butterflies in her stomach.
She paused, briefly wondering how it was that she was so angry at you and already craving your touch at the same time.
“Listen to me.” You demanded in a soft tone, steadying her before carefully retracting your arms.
She nearly whined at the loss of feeling, the cold air replacing the warm feeling of your arms. But she caught herself quickly and swallowed the need for you.
She didn’t say anything and you took this as your chance to continue, “My father called me back to him. Because he knew a change was coming. Every time a member of our council dies, another arises.”
Her face did not change, confusion painted her features. You stepped back, leaving a prominent gap between the two of you.
Cordelia’s eyes wandered over your form. She had to admit, as angry as she may have been; you were still a sight to behold. She had missed you; your smell, your touch, your voice.
You met her eyes, yours soft and slightly anxious. She momentarily questioned why, moving forward as to comfort you.
And suddenly, a pair of two great wings extended from either side of your back. Her eyes widened, the sound that fell from her mouth was incoherent.
They were beautiful, the purest white color and shimmering under the sun coming in from the window. They extended like two great sails, nearly screaming out to her.
She paused before her eyes met yours once again, “Can I touch them?” The witch questioned, suddenly feeling extremely vulnerable under their heavy presence.
You smiled softly, the worry evaporating from your face. You sent her a soft nod, an undeniable blush painting your cheeks.
She stepped closer and reached out for them, runnng her fingers delicately across the perimeter. There was a tension against her fingers, like running them along a slightly-stretched canvas except silkier and deliciously soft.
A soft moan fell from your lips and you shuddered, your eyes falling closed.
“Am I hurting you?” She panicked suddenly, retracting her hand. Your eyes opened to meet her and your face spread into a smile.
“No. It feels amazing. Nothing else compares.” Her smile began to match yours as she pressed her hand to your wings once again.
“What do they mean?” She asked curiously, her head tilting slightly like a puppy. You lifted your hand to rest on her cheek, “It means that I’m here forever. Watching over you the same way I always have.” You assured her.
Without warning, she reached up and tangled her lips in your own. She kissed you softly; slowly. Her lips held yours as if she was afraid you would drift away from her.
You pulled her closer, coaxing a moan to tumble from somewhere deep in her throat. She pushed you backwards, to sit on the bed and crawled into your lap.
She feeling was one you had missed, her pressed against you and her lips working against the soft skin of your neck. She licked and bit and kissed, claiming the skin with her mouth.
Moans fell from your lips, forcing a smile onto her face.
When she finally did pull away from your neck, her expression was soft and her hand moved to cup your face gently.
“You were gone for so long.” She whimpered softly, her lip trembling. “Time is different up there.” You reminded her, pushing a strand of hair away from her face.
Her eyes darkened, a different sort of dark, as she looked down at you. Her hand traveled down your face and circled around your throat, squeezing softly. “You’re not leaving me again. Do you understand me?”
You shook your head, pulling her impossibly closer to you, “I understand. Never again Delia.”
taglist: @kikaykimkim , @mssallymckenna
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Yandere Alphabet: Stan Marsh
Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?
Stan likes to hold his s/o’s hands and talk to them. He often literally doesn’t let go of his s/o and they have the karate chop his hand with their other hand to get him to leave them alone.
Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?
When sober, Stan is fairly responsible about it and tries to abstain from murdering people in general. When wasted, he has zero filter and murders anyone as he sees fit. It gets extremely bloody as he gains more strength when drunk, so he could just obliterate someone with his bare hands.
Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?
Stan’s sweet most of the time, but when drunk, he’s really mean and vindictive to his s/o for small things. He might even attempt to hit them if they manage to get on his really bad side by whatever means.
Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?
Not much outside of purposely getting his s/o wasted at parties so he can take care of them and become their knight in shining armor from the weirdos in South Park.
Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?
Stan has learned his lesson after dating Wendy off and on and her stomping on his heart in heels repeatedly. He isn’t particularly walled off emotionally, but he treads carefully when it comes to revealing his emotions.
Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?
Stan would be hurt and pissed off. When his s/o does something that defies his will, it triggers a reaction in him that tends to be over the top and unnecessary to the situation.
Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?
Stan doesn’t see it as a game because the only games he likes are sports, video games and the occasional Monopoly match with Kyle or Token. This one has him hopping between several identities and ruses that he has to keep up with and it stresses him out.
Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?
They went out with Bebe to go get drinks and have a chat. Stan found out and flipped his lid, running down to where they were and screaming at them, calling them a harlot and some other names. They burst into tears and ran off. Stan wasn’t able to comprehend what he just said before Bebe punched him so hard he threw up in the snow. His s/o was left scared of him.
Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?
Stan wants to have a healthy relationship with his s/o, and maybe have a kid and a dog.
Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?
Stan becomes belligerently drunk and cries for an hour or so. He then gets angry and starts to randomly harass people like his family members or people out on the street.
Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?
Stan is kind of shy, but still a bit bold. He likes to give his s/o kisses on their cheeks, then draws away, blushing.
Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?
Stan tries to ask them out repeatedly, but ends up throwing up on them several times before he just asks Kyle to do it for him.
Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?
Nemesis: Who do they consider a rival?
Kenny. He knows Kenny is a womanizer, manizer, non-binarynizer and other gendernizer. He doesn’t want Kenny to seduce his s/o, so he’s scared of him.
Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?
Stan is normally really lenient unless it’s a matter of safety. When he’s drunk, they’re literally barred from leaving Stan’s house.
Patience: How patient are they with their darling?
He’s pretty impatient in general, often breaking down at little things with little to no importance.
Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?
Stan goes all goth again, except now he’s allowed to talk about how much he wants his s/o back in his poems because the goth kids don’t want to fight him. He also drinks a lot until his organs shut down.
Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?
Not really. Sure, he’d feel a twinge of guilt when his s/o cries, but then it goes away as he tells them to stop overreacting to whatever.
Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?
Randy isn’t a responsible parent at all. He instilled some unhealthy behaviors in his son that all result in him acting like this.
Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?
Stan feels bad and a bit guilty, but he quickly snaps out of it and says, “Get your ass up and stop this now.”
Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?
Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?
Stan is really trusting at the end of the day, so his s/o can just sneak out in the middle of the night because he’s also an extremely heavy sleeper when relaxed.
Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?
Yes. He’d pull on his s/o’s hair if in a flurry of panic, but if he’s drunk it gets much, much worse.
Xoanon: How much do they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?
He doesn’t worship his s/o at all. It’s more just him scrambling to make sure that they don’t get hurt because he knows they are a mere mortal and could die.
Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?
About four or five years.
Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?
Stan doesn’t exactly wish to, but he’s just fine with it.
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Happy 34th Birthday Andy Murray born in Glasgow on May 15, 1987, to Judy and William Murray.
Andrew Barron Murray grew up in Dunblane and began playing tennis at age 3. A former competitive tennis player, Judy coached Andy and his older brother, Jamie, in their early years.
In March 1996, while 8-year-old Murray was sitting in his classroom at Dunblane Primary School, an armed man entered the building, and shot and killed 17 people—16 students and one teacher—before committing suicide by turning the gun on himself. During the horrible event, Murray ran and hid in his headmaster’s office. It still surprises me today that some people are unaware of this tumultuous thing happened in Andy’s life and he picked himself up and achieved so much
Andy scored a major youth championship when he won Florida’s Orange Bowl in his age group in 1999. In 2004, he became the world’s No. 1 junior after winning the U.S. Open junior title. Later that year, he was named the BBC’s “Young Sports Personality of the Year.”
Shortly after becoming the youngest British player to compete in the Davis Cup, Murray made his professional debut in April 2005. In 2006, with new coach Brad Gilbert, Murray beat top-ranked Roger Federer in Round 2 of the Cincinnati Masters tournament. Also that year, he defeated Andy Roddick en route to winning the SAP Open for his first ATP title. A year later Murray claimed a second straight SAP Open and also won the St. Petersburg Open to break into the Top 10 rankings
Murray emerged in the tennis spotlight when he defeated Spanish sensation Rafael Nadal to reach the final of the 2008 U.S. Open, before losing to Federer. He ascended to No. 2 in the world in 2009, and finished runner-up at the Australian Open in both 2010 and 2011.
In 2012, Murray made it to the Wimbledon final for the first time with his semifinal win over Jo-Wilfried Tsonga, the first home grown player to reach the final since 1938. However, Murray lost in the final to Federer, who claimed his seventh Wimbledon win.
Murray avenged his Wimbledon loss at the 2012 Summer Olympic Games, held in London, where he beat Federer to take his first Olympic gold medal. That September, he continued to burn up the courts with an impressive run through the U.S. Open field. Murray scored an impressive victory over Novak Djokovic in a tough five sets to clinch his first Grand Slam title. becoming the first player from the British Isles since 1977—and the first British man since 1936—to win a Grand Slam singles tournament.
After losing to Djokovic at the 2013 Australian Open, Murray made history that summer by defeating the Serbian player to claim the Wimbledon men’s singles championship. He was the first British male to win the tournament in 77 years and the second Scottish-born player to win Wimbledon since Harold Mahony in 1896 a gap of 117 years.
Murray underwent back surgery in September 2013 following his loss in the quarterfinals of the U.S. Open. His performance was uneven for much of the 2014 season, though he made news by hiring former women’s champion Amelie Mauresmo to be his coach.
Andy seemingly was back on track when he reached his fourth Australian Open final in early 2015. That March, he scored career victory No. 500 while competing at the Miami Open.
Murray followed with an impressive run at the 2015 French Open, battling back from a two-set deficit in the semifinals before succumbing to Djokovic. A few weeks later, he reached the semifinals of Wimbledon, but his hopes of advancing were cut short by the ageless Federer. Murray’s subsequent fourth-round loss at the U.S. Open not only thwarted his last chance for a major title in 2015, it snapped his streak of 18 consecutive appearances in a Grand Slam quarterfinal.
Andy Murray began the 2016 season on a strong note, advancing to the Australian Open final before suffering another loss to his nemesis, Djokovic. However, he gained some revenge by defeating Djokovic to claim the Italian Open in May, and then sustained his high level of play through the French Open. With his semifinal win over defending champion Stan Wawrinka, Murray became the first British player to reach the French Open final since 1937. However, his bid to add another Slam title fell short when he wound up on the losing end of a blistering Djokovic onslaught once again.
In July 2016, Murray advanced to the semifinals at Wimbledon after defeating Jo Wilfried-Tsonga. In the final, he upended Milos Raonic, the first Canadian man to make it to the Wimbledon final, 6-4, 7-6, 7-6. The victory was Murray’s third Grand Slam title.
The following month, Murray continued his sterling play by defeating Argentina’s Juan Martin del Potro at the Rio Games, making him the first male tennis player to successfully defend his Olympic singles title.
Despite concerns over a lingering hip injury, Murray returned to Wimbledon in 2017 as the defending champion and progressed to the third round with straight set wins against Alexander Bublik and Dustin Brown.He dropped his first set of the tournament to Fabio Fognini but proceeded to the fourth round in four sets. Murray continued to the quarter final with a straight set victory against Benoit Paire. However, he was defeated in the quarter-final by Sam Querrey in five sets. Since then he has lost his world number one ranking and undergone surgery.
In March 2018 Murray lost his British number one ranking to Kyle Edmund for the first time since 2006.
In January 2019 a very emotional Murray announced at a press conference that his career was possibly over due to struggling physically for a “long time”, particularly with his hip injury. He said that he had been suffering with hip pain on a daily basis, and that it caused him to struggle with tasks like putting his shoes and socks on. He spoke of the possibility of a second hip surgery, but expressed doubt this would be a viable option to prolong his career, merely allowing him to “have a better quality of life, and be out of pain”
He said he hoped to play on until at least Wimbledon but that the upcoming Australian Open could well be his last tournament, he later went out in the second round. Andy admitted “I’m not sure I can play through the pain for another four or five months”
The top American doubles player Bob Bryan urged Andy to have the Birmingham Hip Resurfacing Operation that helped him return to top flight tennis. Informing him that the BHR would improve his quality of life and may help him return to the professional tennis tour. The orthopedic surgeon who pioneered the treatment said in an interview he could forecast a return to the sport “in the high 90 per cent” Andy had the surgery that Februar and on 7 March, Murray stated in an interview that he was now free of pain in his hip as a result of the surgery and may therefore return to playing competitive tennis, but that any potential Wimbledon return would be dependent on how his hip felt, and that he would not rush his comeback and may test his condition by playing doubles.
Andy has since played a number of doubles matches, the most anticipated was the dream pairing with Serena Williams at Wimbledon last year, they lost in the third round to the top seeds. He continued playing the doubles circuit till late that year before returning to singles, losing his first few matches was no surprise, this was about getting back to match fitness and he dropped down to the second tier “Challenger circuit” to regain his match fitness, winning his first match since January.
At the end of November 2019, a television documentary, Andy Murray: Resurfacing, was released on Amazon Prime, detailing Murray’s various attempts to overcome his hip injury over a two-year period from his defeat at Wimbledon in 2017 to his doubles victory at Queen’s Club in 2019. December saw him withdraw from the the Australian Open and the inaugural ATP Cup with a pelvic injury.
Andy continues to try and gain match fitness and was recently in action in Rome as he prepares for the French Open which starts on May 30th, he has also been handed an invitation to the Queens Club competition on the run up to Wimbledon. Andy has fallen to 123rd in the world rankings. He missed out on the Australian Open due to quarantine protocols after contracting the coronavirus and has not had much competitive action since.
The three-time Grand Slam winner is now stepping up his preparations for a potential singles comeback in either Geneva or Lyon next week.
In his personal life April 2015 saw Andy Murray marry longtime girlfriend Kim Sears at Dunblane Cathedral in his hometown. They had met at the U.S. Open in 2005, they have four bairns, Sophia, Edie, Teddy, and a new boy born in March, which I can’t find the name of online!
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Pairing: Colson x Reader
Warnings/tags: smut, cheating, drug use, mentions of foot-fetish, mild blood (nose bleed)
Welcome to my first Colson Baker (MGK) fic. I used a lot of lyrics and lyric references in this. My goal was to make it seem like this toxic relationship and coversations between his and reader are what inspired a lot of his songs.
“C’mon get up,” your best friend Shawnie nudges you, pulling back the sheets of her bed she’s been kind enough to share with you since the breakup. “It’s almost noon,”
“Grmmphf,” you groan tugging the sheet back over your head.
“I’m not gonna let you stay in bed all day again, crying over ‘Machine Gun Kelly’,” she says as she raises the shades on the window; the midday sun bright rays beaming through the thin sheet over your head. “It’s been three weeks now, get up. We’re gonna have a girls day.”
“He has a real name, you know,” you mumble from under the sheet. “Colson”
“Oh yes, Colson the compulsive cheater, how could I forget?” She rips back the sheet a final time.”How was he dumb enough to get caught this time?” She emphasizes, knowing it's not the first time you’ve caught him cheating. “Lipstick on his shirt? Hickey?” She taps the bed, “I mean it! Up! I'm taking you out.”
“Ughhh fine,” you prop yourself up. “Nudes on his phone actually. Found them his first night back from tour.” You swing your legs over the edge of the bed with a sigh. “ Do you know that dumbass really tried to convince me they were mine, like I dunno what my own pussy looks like!” You let out a half- amused chuckle.
“Wow, that’s pathetic even for him,” Shawnie rolls her eyes. “I don’t understand why you keep going back to him?”
“I dunno — it’s just..” you rake your hands over your face and into your hair. “I can’t explain it --it’s complicated. You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me,” Shawnie responds, taking a seat next to you on the edge of the bed. “Seriously, I’m listening. I just wanna help you get over him. I hate seeing you hurt all the time.”
“I feel like I’m addicted to him, like he’s my drug or something,” you admit.
“Except what fun is a drug if you can’t even get high off it and only experience the comedown?” She retorts.
“See that’s just the thing — you don’t know him like I do — there is a high,” you smile as fond memories flood back. “When it’s just me and him, when he’s just ‘Colson’, he makes me feel like I’m on top of the world. He treats me like a princess, he makes me laugh, he makes me feel good about myself, and OH MY GOD the sexxxx!” You whine, “You know I always talk about how good it is,” you laugh. “For real our sexual chemistry is just something I never thought I’d experience with anyone. He makes me feel so comfortable and open and unashamed of the things I’m into, and he shares a lot of the same desires. Everything with him is perfect... until tour starts up again”
“I can understand why all that’s important to you, but what about being faithful? Isn’t that important to you too?” Shawnie questions.
“Of course it is, that’s why I keep breaking up with him! And at first I hate him, I really do. I swear to myself I’ll never even talk to him again, but as the hurt wears away, I start craving him again,” A tear rolls down your cheek. “And then I start questioning myself like was I too hard on him? What do I expect from someone who’s living that rockstar lifestyle, getting high and drunk every night with gorgeous women just throwing themselves at him, ya know?”
“No, that is not your fault, you cannot be held responsible for him giving into temptations on the road!” Shawnie exclaims in a motherly tone. “If he truly wanted to be faithful to you he would.”
“In Colson’s words he ‘fucks up when he’s fucked up’.” you defend him.
“Well maybe he shouldn’t get fucked up if he can’t keep his dick in his pants!” She expresses loudly.”Don’t make excuses for him... Now come on I’m taking you out today; my treat.”
“Shawnie, really you don’t have to do that. I’ll be fine”
“Too late I already booked us appointments at the spa, and —” her voice then shifts to a fast whisper “I may have set up a blind date for you with one of Gabe’s friends Kyle for later on tonight!” She finishes with a cheesy grin.
“Shawnie!!!” You gasp.
“Relax, I’ll be there with Gabe too. It’ll be a double date. We’re meeting at Club Hell at eleven. Now get up and get ready before we're late to our appointment.”
‘Hell… how fitting. That’s exactly what this nights gonna be,’ you think to yourself. You’ve seen Shawnie’s boyfriends friends before and they’re not exactly your type.They’re
just a bunch of preppy frat boys who’s penny loafers and crisp button down shirts scream ‘trust fund baby’ and ‘my dads a lawyer’.
In the passenger seat on the way home from the spa you look down at your bright pink toes and can’t help but frown.
“What’s the matter?” Shawnie asks, nudging you with her elbow as she drives. “Do you not like the color?”
“No, no. It’s not that. I love the color, and thank you so much for taking me to get them done, it’s just that Colson always used to take me — the man’s a sucker for a fresh pedicure,” you answer smirking to yourself as you recall his peculiar kink.
“That is more than I needed to know,” Shawnie’s eyes go wide while keeping them fixed on the road.
“Oh please like you don’t know every detail of our sex life already,” you say tapping her leg playfully.
“But feet is where I draw the line!” She exclaims, pointing a finger.
You let out a chuckle,“Well then I guess I shouldn’t tell you about the time he —”
“Blahhh blah blaaaa I can’t hear you!” Shawnie attempts to cover her ear closest to you with her shoulder, keeping her hands on the wheel, making you bust out laughing. “There’s that smile I miss, I knew it was still in there somewhere,” she smiles back at you. “ Seriously, fuck Colson and FUCK feet!” She laughs.
“I thought you didn’t wanna hear about that time,” you tease.
“What is wrong with you!!!”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you clutch your stomach in laughter, “I couldn’t pass up that opportunity, you set yourself up for that.”
Unfortunately Kyle is pretty much exactly what you were expecting and not at all your type but after a few rounds of drinks you decide to make the best of the night and invite Kyle out onto the floor to dance — Shawnie and Gabe to follow, the four of you forming a small circle. Not even five minutes into dancing you spot Colson entering the club with a tall brunette.
You grab Shawnie’s arm. “Look!” you say into her ear trying to be discreet about it.
“Oh my God, of all nights,” She rolls her eyes, “Is that the girl?”
“I dunno I didn’t exactly see her face, remember?”
“Is everything okay?” Kyle interjects, looking confused.
“It’s nothing, just someone I used to know,” you answer, returning to dancing as Colson and the brunette disappeared into the crowd. You were determined to have a good night, if not for yourself than at least for Shawnie. She was trying her best to help you get over Colson and have a good time.
“Wow, they really pack this place huh?” You yell over the music as the floor starts to get crowded. And as if you spoke too soon one of your elbows collides into someone behind you. Immediately you spin around to apologize. “Oh shit, I’m sorr — Colson!”
“Ah fuck man, why are you here?” Colson rolls his eyes, realizing it’s you.
“I could ask the same thing! I’m tryna have a good night and you gotta show up running shit.”
“Who’s this?” Colson’s date looks up at him annoyed before speaking to you, “Why you talking to my man?”
You throw your head back in laughter. “You’re man? Ha! You’ve got a lot to learn honey. Colson likes to run around. Colson’s everyone’s man!
“Nah, c’mom,chill, chill,” Colson blocks his date with his arm as she tries to step to you.
Shawnie reaches for you, pulling you back towards her by your shirt. “Let’s all be adults about this.”
“Fine!” you twist from her grasp. “Just stay away from me and I’ll stay away from you!” You shout at Colson before marching over to the bar. You need another drink. Your friends follow behind and Kyle sits awkwardly in the bar stool next to you. “Sorry about that, that was my ex, wasn’t exactly planning on seeing him here tonight.”
“No worries, seems like a total douche anyways.” Kyle responds.
“Yeah, something like that,” you answer in a daze staring into the crowded dance floor where you find Colson’s sky blue eyes locked on you from across the room. He watches you over the shoulder of his date, her back turned towards you.
“Can I buy you a shot?” Kyle offers.
“Uhh, yeah sure,” you answer, not paying attention, your eyes still focused on Colson.
Kyle pays for the shot, tips the bartender and hands you your shot. You don't even look to see what it is before throwing it back in one gulp. “Come on let’s go dance,” you slam the empty shot glass and grab Kyle’s hand pulling him onto the dance floor, positioning his back to Colson. You don’t know what kind of game Colson is playing, but you can play it too — your eyes still locked across the room.
When the song changes — Closer by Nine Inch Nails now playing through the club speakers — Colson takes his game to the next level, grinding with “his girl” without breaking eye contact with you. You can’t decide if he’s trying to make you jealous or make you want him. And you can’t decide for what reason you keep playing along but it’s not long before you find yourself rolling your body against your date, your stare letting Colson know two can play this game.
“Damn, girl!” Kyle exclaims, shocked by your sudden shift in demeanour, his hands making their way to your ass, making you cringe internally at his touch. But you keep up the facade letting him push and pull your bodies together on the dance floor as Colson’s glare intensifies.
‘I wanna fuck you like an animal, I wanna feel you on the inside…’ The chorus starts and you know things are about to get turnt up. Colson’s head dips down, his eyes still glued to yours as he sensually licks a stripe up his date's neck. Quickly, you spin Kyle around leaning into him as you grind your backside against the zipper of his denim. You reach behind your head with one hand, lacing your fingers in the back of Kyle’s hair and pull his face into your craned neck, simultaneously inviting him to taste you and shielding his view of you and Colson’s fervid eye fucking. You feel guilty feeling Kyle grow hard against you, knowing allowing his sloppy mouthing of your neck is definitely leading him on.
“Five.” Colson mouths to you, holding up the same amount of fingers behind his dates back, then motioning with his head to the bathrooms. You check your watch, it’s 12:00 exactly.
Five minutes pass and you see Colson excuse himself to the bathroom. Immediately you push you date away frantically, making up a lie about feeling light headed and needing to go get some water at the bar, but head straight to the bathrooms. Inside the one person bathroom you find Colson doing a key bump of coke by the sink.
“What do you want?” You ask, annoyed.
“Ain’t that the tight little black dress from the first night we were together?” he asks, sniffing and wiping at his nose, as he locks the door behind you.
“Is that what you brought me in here for, to ask if this was the dress from our first date? You roll your eyes hopping up to sit on the edge of the sink counter, your fresh pedicured feet with open toed shoes dangling down in front of you.
“MMMmmm you get them done just for me, baby?”
“Fuck off Colson, I didn’t even know you were gonna be here tonight, otherwise I wouldn’t have come,” you quip, folding your arms across your chest in annoyance. “Are you done wasting my time, I’d like to get back to my date.”
“Bullshit!” Colson calls you out. “ Little lawyer boy out there ain’t even your type, I know it and you know it. Your girl set you up on a blind date didn’t she?” He says cocikly. He knows you too well.
“You don’t know shit, Colson,” you lie, jumping down from the counter and heading towards the door to leave.
“Pretty impressive performance out there though, I gotta give it to you — .” Colson steps forward his body between you and the door, backing you back up against the counter. “-- letting him lick and touch all over you —-” he lowers his head, his whiskey-infused breath cascading over your neck and chest and he continues to speak. “-- knowing dayummm well you wish it were me.”
“You need to let me go, Colson. We’re over! You cheated … AGAIN!” You remind him, and apparently yourself, your head involuntarily cocking to the side, opening up your neck to him, your body half ready to give into temptation despite your anger with him.
“I’ll admit I took advantage of you every night that I was on the road,” he speaks in an apologetic tone. But don’t think for a minute i’ma let you convince me that what we started is finished, or for a second that I wouldn't take a bullet to the head for you!” He presses a single knuckle to your temple, his blue eyes piercing though your soul “You know we both want this. I know we’ve had some hard times but you said that even if it took forever that you and me would be together.”
“You’re insane” tumbles from you lips in a last ditch effort to keep up your guard even though the breathy way it escape your mouth sounds a lot more like “fuck me.”
“Ok, yeah, I’m insane… but you the same!” He says, aggressively pointing at you and pressing his forehead to yours, his lips mere centimeters from your own.
You bite your lip; your guard, your walls, and common sense crumbling down around you. “We’re insane — both of us,” you laugh ,a single tear sliding from your eye. “I guess that’s just the way it goes.” You punctuate your words against Colson’s eager lips with a kiss.
There’s no turning back now, your fingers hurriedly undoing the buttons on the placket of his pink devil shirt as his hungry mouth devours kiss after kiss until you can barely breathe, his hands cupping your face so tight. He tastes of weed and whiskey, but you welcome the nostalgic flavor on your tongue. You slide his now open shirt off his shoulders, and let your hands trail down his tattooed torso.
“Fuck, I’ve missed this,” he growls breaking the kiss, quickly lifting you back onto the counter, and letting his shirt fall to the floor. Nestling his face into your neck and hair, he breathes you in as if his memory is bottling up your scent for later.
“Colson,” you whine needily. Desperate to feel the heat of his mouth connect with your flesh, you rake a hand through his tousled bleach blonde locks, pushing down on his head until you feel his wet tongue begin to lap at your clavicle. You lean back against the mirror in pleasure as his tongue writes a sonnet across your neck and chest. He spreads your legs with his knee, your tight black dress inching up your thighs the wider your legs go. His hand slides up the expanse of your inner thighs to your core. Hastily, he pushes your panties to the side, the tips of his pretty painted fingers toying with your clit. The faster he rubs the faster and more sporadic your movements and breathing become, your body begging to be fucked. “Uhhh, Fuck me!” Your words echo your body’s pleas.
“Mmmmhh, he lets out a throaty rumble. “Thought you’d never ask,” he smirks, reaching for the delicate waistband of your black lace panties. He quickly pulls them down, struggling when they get snagged on the stiletto heel of one of your shoes. “Fuck it,” he laughs leaving them stuck in exchange for undoing his cherry red belt. With his belt undone he upzips his dark denim jeans pulling them and his ethika boxers down in one motion, springing himself free.
Wrapping his arms around your thighs he yanks you towards him, your ass teetering on the edge of the counter. With a hand behind each knee he shoves your legs back, bending you into one of his favorite positions; folded in half, legs up by your head. He loves how deep he can get like this.
Still holding your legs back, he bends down, lowering his face to your core, tasting you.
“Uhhhhh, Fuck, Cols,” you whine with eyes squeezed shut, griping his hair as he moves his tongue in a wide stripe from the bottom up, pausing to focus his attention on the sensitive bud at the top.
“Ummghmm,” he hums against you before lifting his head. “No time for this right now” he says with glossed lips “but God, I had to taste you again.”
He removes one of his hands from your legs and grabs himself, bringing the tip to your entrance. Quickly, he slides it back and forth through your wetness before pushing in, a low gravely moan falling from his lips as he bottoms out.
“Shit… Fuck...Oh my God!,” You slap a hand over your mouth.
“Nah, ain’t nobody gonna hear you over the music out there, baby” he says brushing your hand away from your mouth and replacing it with his lips, as he thrusts.
You moan into his mouth and he moves his lips lower, kissing down your neck, so he can hear your pleas of “Harder”. He obliges driving his hips forward with more force, and quickens his pace, the back of your head banging against the mirror so hard, you swear the both of you are about to have seven years of bad luck. But you don’t care, the slight curve to his perfect cock ramming repeatedly into your g-spot.
“Feels so good , uhhh right there. Yes!” You scream out.
“Mmm, yeah you gonna cum for me baby?”
“Ssso close.” You know you're practically guaranteed to cum before Colson; the man could go all night, often making you cum two or three times before he’s done. But you don’t have that kind of time tonight in this tiny club bathroom with both your dates nearby. A few more hard thrusts and your orgasm begins to peak in your abdomen, the feeling as surreal as the Dali tatt on his back your fingernails are raking down. “I — I’m Cumming!
He keeps up his pace, chasing after his own release, groaning with each clench of your walls as you ride out the waves of pleasure.
Still not there yet, he quickly pulls out, grabs you up by your hair, and shoves his cock into your mouth.You can taste yourself as he rams his cock in and out of your mouth. “Yeah, love watching you getting your throat destroyed’” he grits between his teeth, watching in the mirror as he face fucks you. “Uhhgh, gonna —” he exhales heavily, filling your mouth as he holds your head in place. After the last drop is out he pulls you off him with a ‘pop’.
The silence is awkward as you both get dressed, nothing but heavy breathing in the air. “Ah, shit,” Colson breaks the silence, a slow trickle of blood coming from his nose.
“Sit, sit. I’ll get it,” you insist, hurriedly grabbing some toilet paper from the stall, as Colson takes a seat on the counter. You dab at the dripping blood and pinch his nose shut. “Here hold this, like this,” you say, guiding his hand to his nose. “You really gotta stop doing coke, ya know.” you say in a caring tone as you finish buttoning up his shit for him.
He gives you a simple “thanks” with a genuine appreciative smile. “Guess we would get back out there,” he gets off the counter giving his nose a final wipe.
“Yeah, Shawnie’s gonna kill me when she finds out.”
“Shhh,” he shushes your lips with his finger. “The homies don’t gotta know.”
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Meeting and dating Kyle Spencer and Jimmy Darling headcanons (Male!Reader) would include...
Requested: Yes! My first ever imagines request which was made by @darlingkitt !!! 😸✨💕
A/N: I decided to combine the request I received and do both of characters that were asked! I haven't written for Kyle Spencer yet so this is my first time writing him! I hope you don't mind me doing the Pre Death, Post Death, and Fixed versions! And of course, these headcanons are with a Male!Reader! :))
Tags: @darlingkitt @sojournmichael @xavierplympton
(If you want to be added to my permanent tag list, just shoot me an ask or message! Requests for the AHS fandom are currently open to close mutuals and AHS mutuals!) :))
Important: Whatever the reader says is in italics!
Kyle Spencer (Pre-Death)
Surprisingly you and Kyle didn't meet at a party, those hyped up social gatherings were honestly just too much for you so you found yourself meeting him at Tulane University's library instead
Since Kyle volunteered as an SAT tutor from time to time, it was pretty easy to encounter him because God knows you needed help with it
You two hit it off pretty well despite your shyness, eventually the library and study hall became the prime hangout spot for the two of you
Kyle insisted that he should come over to your house regularly, claiming that his own was too boring, so you obliged which allowed you to become closer to him
Of course he would get some really homophobic comments from his fraternity brothers
"What are you like, a princess or sumthen?" "Yeah, I'm the prettiest bitch in the land and that makes you the fugly step mother."
He often spends a lot of time with you, whether its to study, play video games, or just snuggle, no matter what you two were doing he claimed it helped him forget everything else and focus on the only thing that truly mattered to him: you
When it comes to video games, Kyle isn't overly competitive but sometimes the frat boy in him leaps out and he'll make it his mission to beat whatever high score or time you have
Of course you don't mind, you love watching him get excited over little things like that and totally allow him to win just so he can feel good
You were glad Kyle was such a chill dude especially since your parents had been skeptical of him at first but even they began to invite him over from time to time for dinner
Eventually your parents let you go to a little mini carnival with him, you ruffle his blonde curls as he throws the last basketball into the hoop, having not missed a single shot
"Turn around (Y/N)!" "Why?" "Come on! For me?" Laughing at his pouty face, you sigh, and do as he says. But you soon found yourself erupting into a fit of giggles as he tickles you from behind, you turn to face him, and see him holding a little stuffed bear carrying a big red heart
"I wuv you (Y/N)!" Kyle says as he shakes the bear from side to side while inching it closer to you. "You're the bewest boyfwend evwa!" You can't help but chuckle at the little voice he's doing and softly take the bear from him. "Yeah well, I love you to Mr. Bear!"
Kyle's definitely the big spoon whenever you two cuddle but when he's feels down in the dumps, he is the little spoon
There are some days were he just doesn't want to be touched, and no matter how many times you try to convince him that he can tell you anything, he just shakes his head
"Don't worry (Y/N), it's nothing...just the frat boys getting on my last nerve." "You sure?" "Yeah, nothing to worry about babe."
He'd give you a kiss on the forehead then go lay down for the majority of the day, not even lifting a finger in order to study or race against you in Mario Kart
One day Kyle decided to go to one of those wild parties that him and his fraternity enjoyed so much, you nearly went but elected to stay home that day, not knowing that it would be the last time you'd see him alive
Kyle Spencer (Post-Death)
You had learned about what happened to him via the news and cried your eyes out for days, hoping, pleading that one day he'd come back to you, not caring how or why
Then one day you got your wish and he showed up at your door, but he didn't look the same, not even all of his parts were the same
Luckily by then you had moved out of your parent's house and into a cozy little downstairs apartment, which would somewhat allow you to be discreet about things
Occasionally Kyle would stare up at you, his facial expressions blank and empty but you'd swear that he was trying his best to smile
Taking him out of his raggedy clothes and attempting to pull him into the bathtub, you noticed his various scars, as if someone had stitched him back together
Your boyfriend sat in the fetal position while you tried to scrub him down, he frequently flinched when you brushed over certain areas, and he only grunted as a response whenever you asked him questions
"Close your eyes." Kyle blinked at you, not comprehending a single word you said, you decided to coax his eye lids shut as you used your fingertips to try and slide them down and he let you as you washed the soap out from his hair
A couple of tattoos were on his body, which made you shiver internally but you had to focus on more important things at the moment like taking care of Kyle
After washing him off, you put him into some of your own pajamas which were kinda tight but it would have to do for now as you rummaged through a pile of clothes not too far off from your bed
You suddenly felt a set of hands softly grab your waist and a pair of tender lips peck your cheek, your boyfriend was behind you and for a moment you felt as if everything was back to normal like it used to be
But it wasn't.
Pulling a stuffed teddy bear carrying a large red heart from the mass of clothes on the floor, you couldn't help but beam from ear to ear as you presented it to Kyle
He patted its head gently before staring up at you as if confused on what to do next, "Bu-air!" You enunciated the words in hopes that he'd remember you and one of the happiest moments of your life with him
He blinked a few times but then went to kiss you again, which you returned back before stopping him and giving the other male a melancholy look
Kyle's lower lip trembled, most likely thinking you were disappointed in him, he wrapped his arms around you tightly, and you couldn't help but feel for him
"No no! It's okay, really it is! I'm not mad at you honey...just...I know we'll get through this together. We're strong like that." You patted the side of his back as he laid his head against your shoulder, wondering what the world could possibly have to offer next
For a few months you would go on to teach Kyle as much as you could, using computer programs that would aid him with relearning everything he had lost
Kyle was learning his colors with the help of a tablet when you heard a knock at your apartment door, a girl with long dirty blonde hair was standing there with a look in her eyes, something that told you that you needed to invite her in immediately
She introduced herself as Zoe Benson, and then went on the explain what happened to Kyle just as long as you didn't think she was crazy which admittedly was your first thought but Kyle being right there in front of you was proof enough
You knew that you couldn't keep sheltering Kyle while balancing your own personal life for long, so you allowed her to take him back to the academy that she claimed was home to plenty of witches that could help him as well as keep him out of trouble
Your undead boyfriend left your apartment, not without whimpering and crying, as he exited with the long haired girl you caught one last look into his eyes and closed the door, then when a few minutes passed you slumped to the ground in a blubbering mess as Mr. Bear sat silently on the end of your bed
Kyle Spencer (Fixed)
It had been quite awhile since you last saw Kyle, you hadn't even explored the possibilities of dating someone else because deep down you still considered him to be your boyfriend, no matter what
Breathing in and out slowly, you approached the gate to Ms. Robichaux's Academy which had recently became public about the existence of magic and witches, thanks to the current reigning supreme Cordelia Goode
Zoe was waiting outside for you and happily opened the large metal gate, giving you a surprise hug which you didn't mind giving her back
Upon entering, you scanned the huge interior of the building and smiled, you had learned much about what they did here since Kyle was staying and appreciated their work since they gave plenty of young witches a new purpose
You passed Queenie who you stopped for a minute in order to catch up on how she was doing which she was greatfull for, eventually Zoe lead you up the stairs and to one of the closed rooms
"He's been really nervous to meet you again, like so much that he tried practicing a speech and everything!" You couldn't help but chuckle, the thought of Kyle going through lines warmed your heart but not only because of the fact that you reuniting with him meant so much to the other male but also that he was back to his old self, just about
Slightly opening the door ajar, you heard the sound of feet landing readily to the ground then that same pair hurrying towards the door and soon enough you saw the face that they belonged to
Kyle Spencer peeked out from behind the other side of the door, a huge smile across his face as he opened it fully, the two of you embrace in a tight warm hug that moved into the room
"(Y/N!) (Y/N), I missed you so much!" It was such a relief to hear Kyle's voice again, especially the first words since the night that he left being your name, it was enough to bring tears to you eyes, and it did
He currently cupped your face in his hands softly, wiping away any tears that fell as you fumbled with a brown paper bag that you had brought with you
"R-remember this?" You stuttered as you pulled a somewhat worn teddy bear from the crumbled bag, letting it fall to the ground as you shook it back and forth while inching it towards Kyle
He laughed while grinning and as you gave him the teddy bear, he started moving it around in mock dance moves "Mr. Bwear, heweer to remind you that (Y/N) is the bewest boyfwend evwa!" You gave Mr. Bear a couple of noogies on the head and smirked up at Kyle, a smirk that was adjacent to the same one you gave him that night at the fair
"I can't believe you waited so long for me..." Kyle glanced down at his shoes, drawing circles on the floor with the tip of his sole and you couldn't help but feel a rush of grief hit you
"And leave behind the best person in the world? Nah!" Your blonde boyfriend perked up and reached out to hug you which you quickly accepted and wrapped your own arms around his torso, you could hear a soft sniffling noise near your ear, and you couldn't help but tear up again yourself as you got to hold the most important man in your life within your arms again
You were quite apprehensive to attend a freak show performance since it was your first time going but you ended up considering it the best decision you ever made in your life
Unexpectedly you saw one of the most handsome men you'd ever laid eyes on, he wore a red button up shirt and had a very quaint hair style that you would distinctly remember when you came back to the circus grounds in search for him
One of the freaks directed you towards to his caravan and you found him walking around and muttering to himself, most likely practicing his lines for the next show
You felt a rush of heat come over you as the two of you made eye contact, his round white face beaming from ear to ear as he recognized you as one of the audience members who came just the other day
The brown haired male introduced himself as Jimmy Darling, a name you'd become well acquainted with as the both of you began to hang out more and more as time went on
One of your favorite hobbies to do with Jimmy was go to a small pond not to far away from the circus and feed the ducks that frequented the area
Sometimes you would bring bread with you and feed them, Jimmy would attempt to throw a few pieces which he always managed to accidentally toss onto the duck's backs and cause a mini food war
"Jimmy! You know that makes them fight and peck at each other!" "Let the feathers fly!" Softly smacking his back and laughing, after tending to the wild life, you would find a comfy patch of grass to lay your blanket on and relax under the sun
You'd listen to stories about Jimmy's life all day as he'd rant to you about his experiences as a freak, some heart breaking while others heart warming
He didn't seem too bothered by the fact that you were a man and obviously interested in him, he even seemed to reciprocate a lot of your feelings, especially with his habit of giving you forehead kisses
But you were equally accepting of his hands, which you would claim were the most beautiful pair in the world
He'd scoff at your compliment but melt as soon you asked to see them, taking them within your own hands, and shaking your head in awe "Flawless."
During extremely stormy days when the two of you couldn't go out to the pond, you would just hang out with him all day at his trailer and help him with any anxiety that he had about his performances
"D-do you think I'm good enough (Y/N)? I mean its just...I don't wanna be klutz on stage yanno?" "Sssh" Leading him over to the edge of the bed, sitting him down, and looking straight into his brown eyes, your own (E/C) ones seemingly soothing his bad nerves
"I really don't get how the most talented man on Earth, could be so nervous?" You placed your hands on the sides of his head and grinned "You've got absolutely nothing to worry about sweetheart." Aiming to plant a kiss onto his hair, he pulled you down so that your lips made contact with his own
The pattering of the rain outside seemed to halt as the sound of Jimmy's soft kisses making contact with your skin filled the trailer, not a care in the world, or shred of anxiety that could harm the love radiating between you two
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I’d love to hear your thoughts on DmC if you feel like sharing asdfghjkl
(I haven't finished the vergil's downfall dlc yet but I don't think it's gonna give me any earth shattering revelations about the plot so anyways)
I guess I should list whatever positives I can think of along with the negatives. WHOMST READY FOR AN ESSAAAAAAAAAYYYYYY
gameplay and level design is good. some bosses suck. there's one great boss fight (bob barbas) that, if the rest of the game reached that level of creativity it would have been way better. it's an aiight game overall with decently fun mechanics and weapons
the setting is mildly interesting. I do like the dystopian punk mass media surveillance state it had going on and wish more was done with it
idk that's it really
to expand on above, it really just didn't do much with the world it established. in the second half of the game any worldbuilding it had going on becomes second to the family drama they try and shoehorn in to make it more like the actual dmc games. which I really don't understand because they seem to want to establish this as its own thing and yet?
dante and vergil's dynamic is so fucking bad. they have no chemistry. I don't understand why they try and set up this rivalry when neither of them even properly remember it. It just doesn't work, and it especially feels off given they're allies for 90% of the game. None of their interactions come off naturally and their showdown at the end feels forced as hell
vergil's character is baffling. it's like they took one look at his canon counterpart and said "ah yes he's the order man" which is a very shallow reading of canon vergil's character. as such, the reboot version of him comes off as a really gross misinterpretation. and fine it has no connection to the canon material, but the character still shouldn't be completely unrecognizable. and they also give him similar story beats to canon vergil which now make very little sense given the new context. would it not have been more fitting for him to be some kind of rogue hacker out for his own gain instead of a vigilante justice type character with a skewed idea of order? or for him and dante to be at odds? they might have played better off each other that way instead of their stiff interactions as "allies" in the game, where they're forced to get along to face a greater threat, and this also might have made their fight have more weight. also, he doesn't fucking do shit in this game until the very last battle.
really all the characters suck. dante is only barely tolerable at points because he has shades of nero in him. kat is... The Girl. mundus is laughably bad and I don't get the attempt at humanizing him. I feel like he's not hard to write. mundus has such weight in the og games because he doesn't have much characterization. he's this omnipresent god like figure that you mostly SEE the aftermath of and gain the full context of his complete and utter EVIL through people like vergil who were destroyed by him. DmC mundus just tells you he's a 'god' (and also his human alias is """kyle""" what the everloving fuck) like that's supposed to mean anything. I think that's the problem with basically all the characters tbh. they just Tell you what they are instead of Showing it.
it's probably been said before but the tone is so edgy and in a completely terrible way that lacks any charm and doesn't at all try to endear itself. it's mean spirited on a meta level ("not in a million years") and relies on shock value for a lot of its story beats. there's an uncomfortable amount of misogyny/understated homophobia in the game too. every single woman in this game is referred to as a whore at some point. kat's entire character is written to be this sad abused girl with no agency, even throwing in an offhand "oh my dad molested me" out of nowhere. there's a scene where mundus rapes (?) his blonde henchwoman. there's a scene where the evil newscaster calls dante a "known sexual deviant" with a wink wonk kinda face and given the context of the scene it feels like a jab at actual dante (who the devs of this game called a "gay cowboy" derogatorily). this game is CRUSTY.
I hAvE TeRAByTES oF pLAnS We CanT LeT MuNDuS GeT HiS hAnDS On (vergil what the fuck does that MEAN)
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What if the westons were weasleys? Relevance to the twin au beig at your discretion
I’m still going to throw this in the twin AU because I find it highly amusing to think that Ron’s cousin twice removed (whose grandparents had moved to America; Ron can’t remember why, since his own grandpa doesn’t talk about his sister much) just starts writing them letters out of nowhere because this kid he’s been watching for months (or years depending on when you want to set it) has suddenly up and moved to England for a while because apparently he’s adopted and is getting to know his birth family or whatever, Wes never bothered to find out the details, but he has Suspicions and he needs them confirmed. Which is why he’s writing to his old pen pal.
Wes is convinced there is something up with this kid. He is not convinced that it’s magic. He goes into vivid detail about how it can’t all just be accidental magic. In multiple places, it’s more rant than letter, and Fred and George have ample fun acting out Wes’s tirade.
Now, even before Ron ever would’ve met Danny, he would’ve heard of him through the grape vine. People gossip. This stuff gets around. Even if it doesn’t reach Ron’s ears as ‘Malfoy has a twin brother’, the fact that the Malfoy family has a guest in their house for an extended period of time very well might. Because Danny? They would’ve needed to get him some proper clothes; the muggle ones he was wearing are unsightly. He doesn’t quite fit Draco’s clothes, and they’re not about to have anyone whisper that they can’t afford to properly clothe their children without resorting to hand-me-downs, so even if they didn’t take Danny out to Diagon Alley in an attempt to keep him under wraps, they would’ve brought someone in. It wouldn’t get out immediately--they pay well, and this business is all about discretion--but it would get out eventually, and then it would get around.
Between whispers about the Malfoy family and everything Wes writes in his letters, Ron would form his own conclusions about Danny’s character. He’d be sorely wrong, of course, but he wouldn’t find that out until later. But he would write back that, yes, he’s pretty sure he does know the boy Wes is talking about, because there is someone from out-of-country staying with the Malfoy family. Rumour has it that he’s a squib, but Ron has no idea if the rumour is true; from what Wes is saying, it’s probably not.
Wes would reply with a letter full of more warnings about this Danny Fenton than Ron thinks is particularly warranted, since even if he’s not a squib, he’s obviously untrained if he was raised by muggles, but whatever. Wes never struck him as having the best judge of character. So, it’s mostly played off as a laugh by the youngest Weasleys, since not even admonishments from Molly about not judging people before meeting them can get them to stop.
But then more rumours start coming around.
That the squib might not be a squib.
That he knows things he shouldn’t know.
That magic is...funny around him.
None of it makes sense, but it’s enough to prompt Ron to write Wes back and ask for more details about what he’d previously assumed was some crazy theory. Wes sends back a thick packet that includes multiple clippings from muggle newspapers--it’s so weird that the pictures don’t move--and a good twenty sheets of typed notes that he calls ‘the short version’. It also comes with two handwritten notes that Ron is certain Wes didn’t know were slipped in there. Kyle wrote that Wes has been on this from day one and not to put too much stock in it. Easton slipped in a plea that they stop encouraging Wes. Their father, as far as Ron can tell, is just happy that the boys are communicating with the rest of the family again and doesn’t care what it’s about as long as their owl comes back in one piece.
(And, this is unrelated, but speaking of having an owl? Now Danny can get Spooky.)
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Anyone who hangs about Twitter potentially saw an unfortunate Hordak take cross their timelines today.
As is custom on this blog, I’ll be taking it apart for my own personal amusement (and for the amusement of any of y’all who like to watch me do so). I doubt the poster will see this, as they’re on Twitter and not apparently on here, but in case they do: this is for my own enjoyment and the enjoyment of followers; it absolutely does not need to be responded to if that’s not your cup of tea.
So, that little disclaimer in place, let’s see what we can make of this! Because this is on Medium, I’ll be using screenshots as quotes; just a heads-up.
So... this first bit isn’t really anything Hordak-related. It’s more... fandom drama, I suppose? Not really something I can pick apart. I can, however, give my own personal opinion on this sort of thing, for what it’s worth.
It’s true that people can and should be able to feel whichever way they wish about a character. And to talk about that character.
However: it is also true that people who dislike Hordak can be very unpleasant in making that known to those of us who enjoy him. Including descending into personal insults for no discernible reason. Add to that the fact that his character means a great deal to some fans for intensely personal reasons, and it is not difficult to see why some fans aren’t keen to see anti-Hordak content on their timelines, in their mentions, etc.
Censoring character hate isn’t a requirement, but in some circumstances, it can simply be a polite thing to do. It doesn’t take great effort, and it prevents people from experiencing just another bit of unpleasantness on their social media. And if you don’t want to do it? Well, that’s your right; but don’t be shocked when people voice their displeasure by replying to your words. Because that is their right.
And that’s all I really have to say about that.
Odd way to phrase things, really. These aren’t “reasons to forgive.” The first two scenes involve Catra’s asphyxiations and are things that would need to be forgiven, not things to forgive.
Though, y’know, I really only apply that to the first scene, where he assaults her without her necessarily doing anything wrong. Mind you, I believe he does it out of a combination of needing to maintain a hierarchy for safety purposes (this is a man who needs people to be afraid of him to maintain his own safety) and poor leadership skills mimicked from a narcissist, but it’s still a terrible thing.
However! The second time? After he asks her about Shadow Weaver? This isn’t torture-fun-times. This is Hordak neutralizing a threat to the entire Horde. Because that is what Catra is in this moment: a threat to the security and wellbeing of him and the entirety of the Fright Zone. She lies about a critical mistake. She proves herself to not only have poor judgment in serious matters, but to be very willing to lie about it in order to guard her own selfish motives. While I can’t condone the method Hordak uses, I do wish people would stop using this second instance of punishment as some sort of proof-of-torture. He does not do this for no reason. He does it because Catra released a dangerous prisoner into the wild and lied about it. And his concerns over it ultimately prove correct.
This entire qualification doesn’t have much to do with whether he deserves forgiveness or not, but it’s a point I want to make because it combats this idea that Hordak did this to an innocent girl “for no reason” or “just to be cruel.” That’s simply not the case; no matter how unpleasant the method, Hordak is a military leader punishing a subordinate for seriously endangering him and everyone else in the organization. Badly. I don’t know what the equivalent would be in modern military, but Catra’s error is massive. It doesn’t make what Hordak does right, but it does give a reason other than a simple “he’s a bad, bad man.” So.
Adding this scene is... actually kind of odd because he doesn’t really do anything to Adora here. And also: this scene is... what’s the word... meaningful-in-hindsight, so to speak. Essentially: in this scene, Adora is claiming that Hordak is responsible for stealing her, for robbing her of a peaceful life with her family. And Hordak is claiming that he neither knows nor cares who she is, and that she does not matter to him.
The interesting aspect of this scene, and something that OP fails to acknowledge at all, is that both Adora and Hordak are wrong.
let’s see if I can talk about this without crying... nope, already starting to tear up
Hordak never stole Adora; Light Hope did. Hordak did not orchestrate this unfortunate life for her. Rather, Hordak, a lost clone dealing with his own insecurities and fears and problems, found an equally lost infant in a field and gave her the only home he really knew how to create (and one that, for its flaws, was still better than the absolute nightmare he was “raised” in). In all likelihood, given Light Hope’s lack of understanding of infants, he probably saved Adora’s life by doing this: without him, she may well have perished alone in that field.
Hordak likewise does remember her, eventually. And she is not inconsequential to him: by saving her, he ends up saving himself, and all of his brothers. By forging this near-unknown bond with her all those years ago, by choosing to take in an infant rather than letting her die, he plays a key role in deciding the fate of the universe.
This scene that OP sarcastically claims is a reason Hordak shouldn’t be forgiven has a sibling:
The fact that OP apparently fails to recognize this and realize that these are the only two moments in the series during which Adora and Hordak directly interact, that they’re a pair, means that OP misses the connection between the two and the significance of how they misjudge one another initially. It indicates a lack of understanding of the themes of the show: themes centered around connections with other people, love, and forgiveness. Which, given the contents of this essay, is unsurprising.
Y’know, whether or not one believes, in terms of definition, that Hordak is a colonizer (I personally don’t for pedantic and clone-cult reasons, but that’s not really relevant to this post), it’s interesting that OP notes how Stevenson confirms that he is... but conveniently leaves out the part where she confirms that he did it because he was brainwashed.
That’s... an important piece of information to leave out when discussing whether Hordak should be forgiven or not. A very important piece.
And it doesn’t really matter whether he’s a colonizer or a conqueror; the reason it comes up is because people seem very stuck in the mindset of “if it’s a colonizer, it must die” without acknowledging any sort of nuance. There’s also the question of whether what Hordak did actually caused the same sort of upheaval and lasting damage we see resulting from legitimate colonization, and all of the implications of that, but this isn’t really the place to go into that. Honestly, I don’t really think SPoP as a whole is the place to go into that.
No. Hordak is not the person who taught her all of these things.
Shadow Weaver is.
Hordak did not personally teach her that Princesses are evil. He did not teach her that wanton cruelty is fine in getting one’s own way. He did not feed her propaganda.
Actually, as an aside: can we even confirm that Catra ever thought that Princesses where evil? I mean... she works with Scorpia, and she has no apparent morals to speak of. She does as she wishes for her own personal gain, not because she displays any sense of “fighting the evil Princesses.” And in terms of disposing of Entrapta because she was “manipulated” into viewing Princesses as evil: Catra disposes of everyone. She manipulates and uses everyone. That is one of the key aspects of her arc: she uses and abuses people for personal gain. She does this whether they are Princesses or not: just see Lonnie, Rogelio, and Kyle. Add to this the fact that Catra, from the first season, knows that she and Adora have been lied to, manipulated, and that the Horde is in fact evil, and... this entire line of reasoning falls apart.
None of this is an attempt to “absolve Hordak of blame.” Hordak just... legitimately had no hand in raising any of the children. That was not his role (and while I know that this was confirmed by Stevenson at some point, I don’t have memory of where; potentially the last podcast?). And Catra did not operate on any sort of propaganda that she actually believed in: she simply used and disposed of people as she saw fit because she cared more about her own rise to power than she did about those around her. This was one of her major character flaws, and really? Trying to pin this on Hordak, or even fully pin it on Shadow Weaver? It absolves Catra of the blame, of the intentional bad choices she made (as emphasized by Adora) and thus weakens her entire arc.
All in all: Hordak may have created a poor environment for the raising of children, but of note is the fact that only Catra turns out this way. The other kids, whatever their problems, are not in the habit of manipulating friends, lying to them, using them, and then tossing them aside. That is a Catra Problem. Part of this can be attributed to Shadow Weaver (who only treated Catra in the poorest way), and part of it is just... Catra being not-the-best.
All right. Now we get to the really disingenuous portion of the essay.
First, as just stated: Hordak is not Catra’s abuser. Shadow Weaver is. Hordak had no hand in raising her. Hordak did not direct Shadow Weaver to abuse her. Hordak did not personally feed Catra anti-Princess propaganda, and even if he had, we know by the first season that Catra sees through whatever propaganda she was exposed to and has no actual moral objections to Princesses. But that’s not the main aspect of this portion that irks me.
The main aspect that irks me is that this is not the scene Hordak stans mark as abusive. And I cannot imagine that OP does not know this.
But let’s talk about this scene, for a moment, before getting to the actual, legitimate abuse.
OP talks about his scene almost flippantly: “Hordak finds out Catra lied about Entrapta, he becomes angry and attacks her with a clear plan to kill her.”
Yes. Yes, he "becomes angry.” He becomes angry and attacks because as far as he knows, Catra killed Entrapta. This isn’t some annoyed “you lied to me!” moment. He legitimately thinks Entrapta is dead because Catra sent her to Beast Island. OP just blissfully glosses over the fact that Hordak is attacking Catra in rage and grief because Catra, as far as either of them know, killed his only friend and then lied about it for approximately a year. Like... how do you gloss over that in discussing this scene? How do you gloss over the enormity of what Catra did, and the unimaginable pain Hordak experiences when finding out?
So. The writeup of this scene is poor. It misses all of the emotion, all of the reality of what Catra did and what Hordak felt. But! That’s not even the unfortunate part of this portion. Let’s get to the real disingenuity.
This is the abusive scene. This is that stomach-turning moment when Catra removes a disabled man’s ability to move with dignity and without pain solely to force him to escalate a war for her own personal benefit.
Hordak is not a danger to her here. Hordak has not been a danger to her for a while because he has been holed up in his private quarters, trying to deal with the emotional fallout of Entrapta supposedly betraying him. He wants nothing to do with Catra. He wants to lick his wounds and gather himself and somehow heal from this deep personal pain that’s been inflicted upon him.
And that’s a problem for Catra because it stands in the way of her using the war as a way to best Adora.
So Catra identifies Hordak’s physical weakness and exploits it for the purpose of spiting her ex.
The fact that OP completely fails to acknowledge any of this is... well. Disingenuous. Absolutely so.
The next portion of the essay talks about people feeling that Catra was too easily forgiven and isn’t really Hordak-centric; I won’t really go into it here. Moving forward:
Ah, one of the most annoying questions I see asked. Let’s, again, acknowledge and move past the fact that Hordak was not actually Catra’s abuser...
When, pray tell, was Hordak supposed to show this remorse? When? While he was serving on Prime’s ship, trying to forget the pain of losing Entrapta, of failing to prove himself, of losing everything? Should he have done it while screaming in agony in the purification pool? Should he have done so while alone on Prime’s ship, trying to serve quietly while piecing together his memories?
Not only was Hordak simply not in a position, narratively, to go into a whole remorse bit, but he had other problems. Like, life-endangering problems.
The appropriate time to go into his feelings on Etheria and the Princesses and All of That would have been after Prime’s defeat, upon Hordak’s re-introduction to Etheria... but then the show ended. So.
Agh, vulgar. Taking a brainwashed, conditioned slave and bastardizing his triumph at finally seeing himself as a real person, instead claiming that his intent was to glorify his own misdeeds. No. Just... no.
Again: this is not the time for guilt. And it is a demonstration of why guilt and remorse were not front-and-center in Hordak’s arc during season five: his arc was about finally realizing that he was his own person, a person worthy of identity and love and care and freedom. And this arc culminated in him separating himself from his abuser and declaring his personhood.
That is what this scene is: not Hordak reveling in his makeshift empire, or in the terrible deeds he’d committed, but in declaring himself his own person.
I should hope that he is proud of doing that. I’m proud of him for doing that daunting feat, of defeating his abuser and defying his god and recognizing that he is worthy of more than what Prime thought of him. And I recognize Entrapta’s role in it: not as the sole inspiration for his change, but as someone who showed him a foundation of love and acceptance, someone who introduced him to the idea that he was worthy of care and happiness and affection simply because he was a living being, no strings attached.
Trying to shoehorn in some sort of claim that this is about pride in his misdeeds, rather than joy at finally accepting his own sense of self is a massive misinterpretation of this scene, a misunderstanding of Entrapta’s role in Hordak’s arc, and... can I say it’s disingenuous again? Because I’m going to: it’s disingenuous.
All right; we’re at the end. And while the first sentence here is something I absolutely agree with - the decision to forgive Hordak is personal and subjective both for viewers and for in-show characters - the whole conclusion falls apart from there.
It highlights another glaring omission from OP’s arguments: the fact that Hordak is a brainwashed clone slave.
Hordak did not choose to “spend his life trying to prove his worth to Horde Prime.” He did not choose the method of said proving: that Prime would look kindly upon conquering rather than some other task. And he did not choose to have certain concepts and ideas (all beings must suffer to become pure; all creatures, no matter how small, have a place in service of Horde Prime; failure is when something ceases to serve a purpose) conditioned into him.
Hordak was manufactured as a cultist slave. He was “born” with hardware implanted into his body against his will to better control him. He was indoctrinated and brainwashed to the point that he believed that Horde Prime was his literal god - and in a way, Prime was, because he could mentally invade and possess and physically control the clones whenever he wished.
Hordak was not allowed to have a sense of self. He was not allowed to have a name. He was not allowed to express emotions. He was not allowed to live without that life serving to glorify Horde Prime. Hordak was so absolutely sick with this mentality that he saw himself as a failure due to physical disability and assumed it was his responsibility to fix that.
The idea that Hordak simply chose to do what he did, that he had the same foundational morality and mindset as any “normal” person might, shows a glaring lack of understanding even the basics of his narrative.
Yes: Hordak did bad things. But he did them for legitimately tragic, nigh-horrifying reasons that this essay just ignores for the sake of... I don’t know? Trying to justify OP’s distaste for the character? I am uncertain. But it’s a mark of a poor essay, of a poor understanding of the character, and is honestly just disappointing to read when the show itself tries so hard to drive home its wonderful, hopeful themes through Hordak’s story.
Whether one forgives Hordak or not is one’s personal choice, but I certainly hope one makes said choice with better insight into his character than this essay provides.
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First sentence: "There is no right answer here."
A million years later - so I ended up using this line in my big bang and 50K won’t fit in this box, so I had to write something else. [Set early season 3]
“There is no right answer here,” Alex replied, peering closely into the mirror as he delicately pinched the cut on his head closed with a fresh butterfly bandage. He caught Forrest’s unamused look in the reflection and sighed. “All I can say is it’s classified.”
“Classified? That’s the story you want to use? You left our date at 11 pm on a Friday night to handle some software emergency, yet here you are, covered in dirt the next day bleeding from your head. So classified is your answer?“
Alex turned the sink taps on midway through, letting the sound of the water drown out the rest of Forrest’s incredulous response. He cupped his hands in the water, to splash his face, letting the shock of the cold chase away the fatigue. He had received Michael’s text after dinner, just as they had arrived at the club for dancing, or rather Alex was ready to be a good spectator while Forrest danced. The simple words “Be careful. He’s dangerous. I’m sorry.” were enough to have Alex out the door with a flimsy excuse. With his head buried in phone as he left the club while he attempted to locate Michael, he had missed the shadow stepping out from the building to intercept his path to the parked Explorer.
One single blow had him incapacitated. The worst case of déjà vu . To have fallen prey yet again was embarrassing. But he had learned long ago, his higher brain functions often went off-line around Michael Guerin to say nothing of his sense of self-preservation.
Thankfully when he had resumed consciousness, he had recognized his surroundings, and by default, his attacker. Three glowing pods, and an empty cave meant he had just been a diverting plaything for Mr. Jones. There was no way to explain that to his boyfriend without revealing the alien secret.
Hiking in the dark through the desert to the access road, using only the faint light from his cell phone, was it’s own version of hell. His leg was a not-quiet agony of pain, radiating into his hip after he had finally made it the mile-marker and was able to call Kyle for help.
Alex leaned on the sink to relieve some of the pressure on the painful cup of his prosthesis, and opened his mouth to reply- except before he could, his front door burst open with a racket.
“ALEX!” Michael shouted, the clatter of his boots through the entry way toward the bedroom.
He pushed away from the sink, brushing past a stunned Forrest, and met Michael in the hallway. Before he could process it, Michael’s arms wrapped around him, pulling him off his feet in a tight hug. “Michael-”
“You’re okay, oh thank god, you’re okay,” Michael muttered quietly into Alex’s throat, his arms still clinging to Alex. The movement of Michael’s lips against his skin as he spoke sent a shiver of pleasure down Alex’s exhausted nerves. That fierce grip, tight enough to leave bruises, was strong enough to support the axis of the planet. Gravitation and orbital spins. “He said it was easy, to take you, and he said he just left you in the desert to die.”
“He?” That was Forrest.
Alex ignored the question as he soaked up Michael’s touch and tried to soothe the anxiety still radiating from him. There would be time enough for half-explanations and fictional accounts to Forrest, this was more important. “He did catch me by surprise,” Alex left out how the faked text from Michael was the effective lure, and continued, ”but he didn’t leave me to die. He left me in a place I had been before, with my phone. I’m fine, just a little tired, okay?“
“I’m sick of his fucking games.”
“Me too, but he’s just trying to drive us apart. Trying to prove some sort of point about weaknesses and attachment.” The superiority of the alien race over the humans was a frequent subject early on with Mr. Jones, before he realized just how deep-seeded the connections were between Max, Isobel and Michael to Earth and their human friends like, Maria, Kyle, Cam, and but especially Michael’s friendship with Alex.
Close, hard-fought, friendship.
Michael pulled back, to look in Alex’s face directly. His honey-dark eyes were blood-shot with worry and lack of sleep, but warm with resolve. “Well he won’t, and he’s wrong. You’re my strength.”
Before Alex could reply, he heard the front door again. This time it was slamming shut. He winced in acknowledgement, the small amount of patience Forrest had was gone and so was the man himself. That would require some damage control of all kinds, but first, Alex allowed himself to be fussed over by Michael, who ushered him back into the bathroom for more first aid.
[Dedicated to @adiwriting, @haloud, @christchex today ]
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Take Me Home
Michael and Alex can never find the right time to approach the other and start talking. Or, five times Michael & Alex walk away and one time they walk forward.
I’ve been watching a lot of made-for-cable movies and all the angst and misunderstandings are to blame for this LOL.
Also on A03.
"You don't know Alex like I do! I can't waltz in there and screw up his life right now. That's not what he needs," Michael tells Isobel as they head to his truck after ditching the Pony during Alex's hauntingly beautiful song.
Isobel stops walking when they reach the truck, arms folded across her chest, and her patented 'Shut up and listen' face glaring at Michael under the dusty lights of the parking lot. "Michael, were you even listening? That song was about you. I know it was. How can you just walk away from that?"
Michael rubs his eyes, willing himself to remain calm, even though his insides are screaming at him, and he feels like he's going to throw up if he doesn't put distance between himself and the freaking Wild Pony. "I was listening, Iz. And I meant what I said. It's just not the right time for us. I broke up with Maria a few days ago. And he's on a date or something! He didn't even know I was going to be there tonight. Maybe it's about me, but he wasn't singing that song for me."
"So what? You heard it, and look at yourself; you're a mess! You need to talk to him. I mean it, Michael. After everything we just went through. Everything Max is going through; you want to throw away this chance?" Isobel isn't yelling, but her words are forceful, and they cut deep into Michael's soul.
He hears her, and he knows she's not wrong, but he's not just confused about, well, everything, he's also scared. He knows he and Alex can't even attempt to move forward without reconciling the past, and that's not going to happen overnight.
There is just no way in hell Michael would survive having Alex and losing him again. He won't risk it, but dammit if Isobel isn't making sense. They need to talk, and a talk won't fix everything tonight, but it's step one. They can take the smallest of steps if that's what Alex wants, but they have to start moving.
"I don't even know what to say," Michael says meekly.
Isobel smiles ever so faintly and finally looks less threatening and more loving. "Just speak from the heart."
It takes several more minutes for Michael to get up the nerve to go back into the bar. He can hear a pretty terrible rendition of 'Take Me Home, Country Road' filtering out of the walls, and he takes a long, deep breath, full of promise before opening the doors.
He scans the open area for Alex, but he sees the vibrant blue hair first. Forrest is leaning against the bar with his hand outstretched like he's waiting to catch a bartender's attention. Alex isn't near him, and Michael stalks further into the bar hoping he can steal Alex away for a few minutes before Forrest can even see them.
But he's not that lucky.
Michael freezes by the opposite end of the bar as he watches Alex emerge from the restroom area with Greg and head straight to Forrest. Michael watches Alex approach Forrest from behind and place his hand on the small of his back before leaning in to whisper into the man's ear.
Before Forrest can turn around to respond, Michael spins on his heels, the off-key sounds of a John Denver classic carrying him out the door.
"Man, you broke up with him over text message?" Kyle asks, trying to hold back his chuckle as he takes a big gulp of his ice water.
Alex shakes his head and swallows his French fries before speaking. "No, you can't break up with someone you're not actually dating. We were just hanging out, but it wasn't working."
"Still," Kyle begins, "ending things over text is cold-blooded, Alex."
It's the first Friday in weeks Alex has had a night to himself now that he and Forrest are no longer hanging out, and the last thing he wants to do is still talk about the history buff with his best friend over hamburgers and fries at The Crashdown.
"He doesn't like to talk on the phone, and it was just one of those things I had to do," Alex shrugs, leaning back in the booth and stretching his muscles. "He's not a bad person. And we had some fun times, but he just isn't-"
"No!" Alex bites back stronger than he means to. "He isn't the one. This is not about Guerin."
Kyle looks skeptical, and he leans across the table, his voice dropping an octave. "Isn't it always about Guerin?"
Even while "with" Forrest, he knows his thoughts were always with Michael because that's the reality of the life Alex leads. He'll always be connected to Michael, and he will forever be on his mind. And pretending differently isn't an option for him anymore. They've been through too much to deny the connection, but that didn't mean they needed to fall back into bad habits either.
"Speak of the devil," Kyle mutters softly, looking past Alex to the front window.
Alex turns a smidge to catch a whirling maze of curls bounce through the front doors. Michael looks heavenly, a little dirty but all man, just the way Alex likes him. He looks tired, and Alex immediately wonders if he's been sleeping okay and taking care of himself the way he should.
They haven't talked a ton since Crash Con, and barely at all since they locked eyes during Alex's song, and Michael promptly ran away.
"Holy shit," Alex says out loud.
Michael heads right for the bar, having called in an order ahead of time. And he doesn't notice Kyle and Alex back in the corner watching his every move.
"You should talk to him," Kyle states plainly and with raised eyebrows.
"Kyle, I just told you. Me ending things with Forrest is not about Guerin. There's nothing to talk about." He continues to look at Michael over his shoulder, and he can't help but smile a bit when he sees Michael flash that cocky grin at the girl ringing out his order.
"And I'm telling you as your best friend these days, that for whatever reason all roads lead back to Michael Guerin, and you need to get your ass over there and at least say hello. You need to talk to him."
Alex looks back at Kyle and rolls his eyes playfully, considering his words. On the one hand, there is no reason for Alex to stroll over there because they really aren't on the greatest of terms right now, and he should just let him enjoy his Saturday night in peace. But on the other hand, it's Michael. It feels wrong to be this close and not reach out to him.
"Fine. I'll say hello and be right back," Alex says as he starts to slide out of the booth. He smooths his sweater down and slowly makes the trek over to the counter; Michael still wholly unaware of his proximity.
He's a few feet to Michael's blind spot when the waitress comes out with a bag that she hands to him. "Two orders of Saturn's Rings and two Crashdown burgers! Hot date this evening?"
Alex can only make out the side of Michael's face, but he can hear the smirk in every syllable when he replies. "You know it."
It freezes Alex where he stands, and he turns to walk back to Kyle as quickly as his legs will allow him.
"What the hell, Manes?" Kyle looks almost worried, eyes wide and staring at Alex, who knows his face is a twisted mess of sadness, embarrassment, and anguish.
He doesn't answer Kyle's question, choosing instead to pick up a handful of fries and slide them through his Milk-y Way Shake. He stuffs them into his mouth in an exaggerated fashion, feeling ice cream dribble down his chin.
The action does what it's intended to do and shuts Kyle Valenti all the way up.
"I can not believe you dragged me to a flea market at seven in the morning on a Saturday," Michael mumbles, eyes half-closed as he follows behind Max through the frenzied outdoor market.
It's a chilly morning, and after a wild night at Planet 7 that involved Michael playing third wheel to Isobel and a plethora of people, there was nothing Michael wanted more than to sleep in and get a late greasy meal in town. But no, Max showed up at the ass crack of dawn and told him he wanted to get a couple of things for his house, and he needed Michael's help.
"Come on, brother. We'll be quick, and then I promise we can get breakfast. My treat!" Max exclaims, a pep in his step as he walks around a peeks into the variety of tents set.
"Yeah, it is your treat," Michael scoffs. "You and Iz have been awfully needy lately. You know she's been making me have Friday night dates with her? Last weekend it was Crashdown food and a movie marathon. And last night was watching her get number after number at Planet 7."
Max laughs heading right for a tent that has a ton of beautiful rugs hanging up inside.
It isn't particularly big inside, so Michael stays outside and does some people watching while Max peruses the rugs.
He hears his voice first before he sees him, and the sound brings him to life better than any overpriced coffee Max can buy for him that morning. The sound runs right through his veins and into his heart, making him smile before he even knows his lips are moving.
Peeking around a tent a few yards down, Michael's eyes land on Alex, who's dressed to kill in skin-tight black jeans and the form-fitting leather jacket that does things to Michael's nether regions. He looks criminally good, and Michael finds himself moving forward before he can stop himself.
He would have been on Alex any second if he didn't catch sight of Forrest walking up behind Alex with his adorable dog in tow. Alex seems a bit taken aback when Forrest tapes him on the shoulder, but he recovers quickly and leans in to awkwardly give Forrest a one-armed hug making sure not to crush the beagle in his arms.
Michael can't tell by Alex's body language whether this is a planned meeting, but it doesn't seem to matter as the two chat amiably and then make their way to the open area where some food vendors are set-up.
His heart throbs a bit at the sight of the pair, and while he would have loved to talk to Alex, to hear his voice and see those lips hopefully curved up into a smile, he's most certainly not going to interrupt his date.
He turns around and runs into Max outside of the rug tent.
"There you are!" Max yells, clasping Michael on the shoulder.
"Uh, yeah. You almost done? I need caffeine, like, right now."
"Come on, buttercup. Your Uber is waiting!" Maria is trying to talk to Alex in her stern voice, but she's failing. Every other word is laced with a laugh, and Alex lets out a snort as he slides off his barstool.
It wasn't like him to imbibe indulgently in the middle of the day on a Tuesday, but he had the day off, and he did not feel like sitting in his house alone. He would much rather see a friendly face and get away from himself for a few hours.
"Why are you kicking me out?" Alex asks, leaning across the bar and trying miserably to look upset.
"I'm not kicking you out. You're always welcome here. But you look sleepy, and I think a mid-day nap would do you some good," Maria says kindly, rubbing a hand down his cheek.
"My house is so lonely," Alex says under his breath, but he knows Maria can hear him, and she gives him a sympathetic grin. Alex lets himself smile back at his friend and offers a small wave before turning to stride out of the Pony.
The sunshine hits him first, and he staggers back not because of the alcohol but the sheer brightness of the sun. It feels good against his skin, and he's suddenly hit with that wave of tiredness Maria was talking about.
He sees his Uber in the lot, a black SUV, with a man named Merv behind the wheel. But as he makes his way over, he stops when he sees that familiar Chevy in the lot. Alex can make out Michael's form anywhere, no matter how far away or how cloudy his eyesight.
Alex's feet start dredging towards the truck almost against his will, and a million thoughts start swirling through his head. I miss you. Can we please talk? Will you hug me? I miss you.
It's not until he gets closer that he notices another body in the truck with Michael. He can't make out who it is, maybe Isobel if he squints hard enough, but it doesn't matter really because he's not going to bombard him in the middle of the Pony parking lot when he's with somebody else.
No, this isn't the right moment to talk to Michael, Alex thinks, so he turns around and walks to Merv's Suburban.
But tomorrow is another day.
Sunday mornings are the best times to hit the grocery store, with half the town at church and the other half still in bed sleeping off their Saturday night bender.
The airstream doesn't have much cabinet space, but there's enough room for cans and boxed goods, and his small fridge has enough space for the essentials. He's usually in and out of the store in under twenty minutes, but he lingers a bit longer that morning for no discernible reason.
He begins to think it's fate when he turns down aisle seven and sees Alex examining a box of cereal.
As usual, he looks devilishly handsome, and Michael wonders if his hair is still as soft as he remembers. God, he wants nothing more than to walk over and find out, though he knows that would not be the most appropriate thing to do.
They need to talk. Whether Alex has a boyfriend or not, Michael wants to be a part of Alex's world. He's sick and tired of existing in a world where Alex Manes is not a part of his daily life.
He makes his way down the aisle, Alex still engrossed in the caloric content of Raisin Bran, when Michael hears Alex's phone start to ring. He watches Alex extract the phone from his pocket and grin at the screen.
"Hey, you," Alex says into the phone.
Michael starts to retreat backward slowly, hoping Alex won't catch sight of him and doesn't turn his back on the man until he's entirely out of the aisle. He was going to grab some Corn Flakes as a quick breakfast option for the week, but he can't bear to go back and potentially see Alex's softest grins reserved for someone else.
If he had stayed another few seconds, he would have heard Maria's high-pitched squeal when Alex put the phone on speaker. But he's gone off to aisle eleven, ready for a week of steel-cut oats in the morning.
It's another warm day in Roswell, and the streets are flooded with people walking around and enjoying the beautiful day. Michael and Alex are amongst the crowds, Alex making his way to his car after grabbing a coffee and Michael carrying a bag of tools he had to pick up from the local hardware store.
They spot each other simultaneously from across the street, and Alex lifts his hand to wave, while Michael tips his Stetson down with a wink. They both start walking toward the other, and they finally link up on the sidewalk near the UFO Emporium.
"Hey," they say in unison and then nervously laugh.
"Hi," Alex says after a beat.
"Hi," Michael replies.
"It's so funny to run into you today. I've seen you a couple of times around town the last few weeks, but it just hasn't felt like the best time to approach you," Alex states, a giddy little smile on his face.
"Really? Um, same actually," Michael says, less giddy and more fidgety. "Are you headed to meet Forrest?"
Alex shakes his head authoritatively. "No, no. Forrest and I aren't together, Michael. We haven't been for a long while. Just friends. And truthfully, we never really were together."
"Oh. That's great!" Michael beams but then looks flustered when he notices the bewildered look on Alex's face. "I mean, that's not great. It's sad for you, right? Unless it's not sad, and you're happier now? You look good, um, I mean, you look happy. I think. Are you happy?"
"Guerin, oh my god!" Alex barely gets out through his laughter. "I'm good. And I am happy. What about you?"
"What about me?"
"Seeing someone now?"
"No. I spend all my personal time with Iz or Max. But mostly Iz," Michael states simply. "But I think our Friday night dates and Tuesday lunches are coming to an end now that she's getting back into the dating world."
Alex seems to think that over for a few seconds before speaking again. "I miss you."
"I miss you too, Alex."
"We should talk sometime."
"Can I hug you?" Michael blurts out and steps closer to Alex.
Alex answers by leaning in and pressing his chest against Michael's. He's careful not to let his coffee spill while still holding Michael tightly.
Michael, meanwhile, discards his shopping bag and holds onto Alex hard, pulling him as close as he can.
Both men close their eyes, oblivious to the bustling sounds of conversations and footsteps around them, content to stand like that forever if they could.
"Damn, I missed you, Alex."
"I know. It's about time we met each other in the middle."
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Chapter 2.11 - Lost in the Hideaway
Dennis quickly discovered that The Hideaway wasn’t so much a bar, as a fucking maze. The hallway made a few turns, and then ended at a junction going left or right. The corridor was narrow, and barely lit. He stood there for a couple moments, waiting for his eyes to adjust, and then went right, trying to follow the sounds of what he assumed would be the crowd at the main bar. But after following the corridor for a little ways, he came upon a dead end with a sling hanging from the ceiling. A man clad in a rubber body catsuit was in it, another fisting him rather deep. The fister looked over at him, leering, and Dennis quickly retreated back down the hallway. Easy enough--he’d just go the other way at the junction.
But he never found the junction again. He couldn’t remember taking any turns or choices, but each time he turned a corner, it seemed he found himself in a loop, or a dead end, or some other obstacle he couldn’t seem to bypass. He was beginning to panic, sweat building up under his shirt from the heat of the place, and again, he felt that same need or hunger building up inside him. Feeling light headed, he took a seat on a little perch for a moment, unbuttoned the front of his shirt, and felt...something underneath it that didn’t seem like it should be there.
It was a leather harness. He didn’t own a single piece of leather in his whole wardrobe, aside from shoes. He gave the leather a tug, feeling it pull against him, and then attempted to loosen the buckles, but they refused to budge.
“Ah, I had a feeling it was gonna be you.” Dennis looked up at the voice and saw the same bouncer from the door looming over him--and blocking his only exit from where he was sitting. “Some guys said someone was running around the halls, didn’t look like he belonged, but it looks like you’re already fitting in a little more, eh?”
“I...I didn’t put this on. I don’t know where it came from,” Dennis said. “Can...you help me get out of here?”
“But you were so eager to get in earlier. Besides, if Pigtown wanted you gone, you’d be gone. I think you’re right where it wants you. I did warn you about the dress code though--so the rest of that is gonna have to go.”
The bouncer stepped into his space and started tearing away Dennis’s clothes, first his shirt, then his pants, leaving them as shreds on the ground. Similar to the harness, he saw that his underwear had become a leather jockstrap, and on his feet were not the sneakers he’d put on earlier, but a couple of black work boots.
“See, isn’t that better?” the bouncer said, grabbing hold of Dennis’ nips in his fingers, and toying with them, watching him wince and gasp. “I’d stay and play, but technically I’m on the clock, and Boss doesn’t like that. Maybe later, eh? I like my boys a little broken in anyway.”
The bouncer backed off and turned down the corridor, leaving Dennis to scramble down and try and reassemble the scraps of his clothes--but nothing was even there. It had all just vanished into nothing. It was impossible, but then, all of this was. He turned the corner and went after the bouncer, but he’d already slipped away into the dark, and Dennis found himself turned around again. Now, however, the corridors were not nearly as empty. They were full of men in leather and rubber gear, all of them leering at him, sniffing the air, following behind him until he came to another dead end.
“Where do you think you’re going, boy?” one of the men said. He stepped forward, a tall, burly fellow in leather vest and chaps, with a thick cock swinging between his legs. He pulled Dennis into him, and while he tried to will himself to fight the man off, as soon as the man laid his lips on him, something inside him roared to life, and he found himself passionately kissing the leatherman, as the others came around. He had no idea what this hunger was, this desire. The leatherman pushed him back onto a ledge, hauled up his legs, and Dennis felt his cock press against his hole. He hadn’t been fucked in years, and he tried to say something, ask him to go slow, but the leatherman worked the head in, and a swirl of pleasure and pain swirled through Dennis’s mind.
One after another, the men fucked him. Most were smaller than the leatherman had been, and so Dennis had no trouble taking each of them in turn. He had moments of clarity, thoughts that he should resist, that he couldn’t be doing this, but another cock would slot into him, and he’d be carried off on that same pleasure all over again. After the crowd had taken their turn, they left him on that ledge, ass drooling cum under him, and he stood up and hobbled away down the hallway--and there it was, the corridor. The bathrooms. The breakroom. The alley. He could run. He could get out. But the hunger, he was so hungry now, every fuck had only made him want it more, and so he turned and continued into the dark, now hunting--and it wasn’t long before he smelled the smoke, and found his way to where Kyle and Marshall were smoking cigars and kissing, a pig on the ground licking both of their boots, stopping only to look up and take the ash off their cigars as it accumulated.
“K-Kyle...” Dennis managed to say, but his voice felt so parched and dry all of a sudden.
The young man turned towards him in confusion, and in the dark, he struggled to recognize him at all. Dennis stepped closer into the red light, and Kyle’s eyes lit up. “Fuck, again?” he said with a laugh. “Hey Master, look who it is.”
Marshall turned to look at Dennis, and he felt, for a moment, that cloud of smoke clear, enough that he could recognize the older smoker’s face from...from the shop, and from Depot, though neither of those memories made much sense. Marshall sighed. “I told you, he must like you.”
“We just kissed once! I was just curious, I didn’t even like him that much.”
“Kisses mean different things to different people.”
The kiss in the garage. Dennis had tried to tell himself it hadn’t meant anything either, that Kyle didn’t mean anything to him. He’d just wanted to protect him, and care for him, and...and suck his cock, and beg him for his seed, and oh gods, this had been a mistake. The hunger was for Kyle, but not just Kyle. For this freedom, if that’s what this was, but Kyle was the root of it. That stolen kiss, he’d never felt so brave before in his life. No wonder he’d held onto it so hard, though he’d never been able to admit it. “Please, I...I don’t know why, I remember...can you tell me what’s happening to me?”
“Pigtown’s happening to you, friend,” Marshall said, “Like it happened to all of us. What do you think, should we help him out, Apprentice? Go on boy, play with him. He’s yours, make him what you want him to be.”
Kyle stepped up to Dennis, close enough that he could feel the heat of his cigar on his cheek. “You always treated me like a kid. Do I look like a kid to you?”
Dennis shook his head.
Kyle took a long draw off his cigar, wrapped one gloved hand around the back of Dennis’s head, and kissed him again--but it was nothing like the kiss he’d taken in the garage. He’d been timid before, anxious. He’d let Dennis guide him, and tease him. But this was forceful, rough. He pushed the smoke into Dennis’s lungs, and while he tried not to breathe it in, it drove deep anyway, flooding not just his body, but up into his mind as well, making him feel lightheaded and uneasy on his feet.
“You’re going to be the boy now,” Kyle said. “Cute little cub with a hungry little hole, looking for a Daddy to take care of you, and fuck you, and play with you. That’s what you are tonight.”
Dennis felt something in his shift, the smoke warping his body, filling his body out with a soft layer of fat as he lost a little height, his first few wrinkles smoothing out, his beard pulling in and becoming a sparse goatee as his hairline grew back to a point it hadn’t been in years.
“Nicely done, apprentice. You’re such a fucking natural.”
“I learn from the best.”
Dennis looked down at himself, at his strange body, at the two handsome Daddies in front of him, and he dropped to his knees, inched forward, and started sucking on Kyle’s cock. Marshall came around, lifted up his ass, and the two of them spitroasted him, and when they came, Kyle’s cum tasted and felt like smoke, and Marshall’s load swirled in his guts, into his veins, settling inside him like ash. They left, and Dennis tried to get them to take him with them, but Kyle stopped him. “Not tonight, pig. Tonight, I think you belong to The Hideaway, don’t you?”
Dennis...knew he was right, somehow. The bar claimed him, for violating its...its rules, though he couldn’t recall wearing anything other than what he had on now. He roamed the halls, circulating, stopping whenever he found a handsome Daddy perched in a corner to suck their cock and beg for a load, before moving on again, until he found himself at the bouncer’s booted feet again, looking up at him eagerly.
“See? Nice and broken now, aren’t you?”
“Alright cub--come on home with me then, and let’s have some fun.”
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