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cherryxcadbury · 1 year

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16 with Mason if it is not gone please?xx

first person pov

“Cast picture, everyone in!” One of your costar’s publicists beckoned to everyone.

You nodded, smiling nervously. You were at the French football awards, commonly known as the ballon d’or ceremony. Closely behind the Oscars and Golden Globes, this was one of the ceremonies with the most paparazzi you’d ever faced.

You were a Hollywood actress, a very successful one at that. From an early age, you’d love watching football and grew up supporting West Ham United. So, when the producers of Ted Lasso offered you a main role, you quickly did the paperwork and cleared your plate of all your other jobs.

After the cast photo was done, you more than anything wanted to get off the carpet, but the paparazzi had other ideas.

“Y/N! One solo photo please! Just one please Y/N!” The photographers screamed.

You bit your lip and opted for one photo. Trying to keep a straight face as the flashes intensified and you could see nothing but lights flashing constantly. Red carpets were a nightmare. Your hand was stationed on your hip and you debating on moving. The amount of light rendered you speechless.

“Y/N! A PHOTO IN THE FRONT TO SHOW US THE OUTFIT!” One screamed.

That shout got you out of your daze and you quickly made your way off of the carpet, trying very hard not to trip in front of everyone.

You let out a breath of relief when you realised you’d survived the fatal light show.

“Survived aye?” You quickly turned the opposite way upon hearing a voice speak to you.

You turned to see your costar, Brett (who played Roy Kent), looking at you with an easy smile. On set, Brett had surprisingly grown to be a very close friend of yours. Almost like a brother. In honesty, you were a bit worried about getting along with your cast mates given the large majority of them were at least ten years older than you.

You were so happy that you ended up being very wrong. Brett specifically was initially intimidating, because well, look at him. But he was a lot like his character, Roy. He specialized in being hilarious, in that serious, deadpan type of way. But he was so loving and caring, again, a lot like a big brother.

“Tell me about it. That was one of the worst red carpets yet.” You groaned.

Brett shrugged his shoulders with a laugh, “Maybe for you. Their cameras were following you the whole time. You should’ve seen how quickly the rest of us were forgotten after the cast picture.”

“Please. I’ve seen how Roy Kent obsessed some of these guys are.” You teased him, to which he laughed.

“Let’s move to our seats now yeah?” He suggested.

You nodded, quickly turning the opposite way, maybe a bit too quick. Because you ended up crashing right into something quite a few cms taller than you.

Well, more like someone. A crimson blush immediately made its way onto your face. You hated embarrassing yourself at events like these. So much so that you worked meticulously to avoid doing so.

“I’m so sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going.” You apologised after steadying yourself.

The person you crashed into looked up with an easy smile on his face. Mason Mount.

“No worries.” He flashed a charming smirk at you, upon seeing the blush deepen on your face.

You gulped wanting this interaction to be over as soon as possible.

“Y/N L/N right? The actress who’s been winning a crazy amount of awards?” Mason checked.

You stood for a second taken aback. He knew who you were?

“Yeah I am Y/N. It’s nice to meet you.” You stretched your arm out to shake his hand.

You were not a big hugger, so you were grateful when he accepted with a smile.

“I’m Mason, Mason Mount. I play for Chelsea. All the guys love watching you.” He replied earnestly.

“I know who you are. You had a really good season last year.”

“What about this year?” Mason quirked his eyebrow.

You felt yourself slowly getting more comfortable with him.

“I’m not one to judge when someone’s club is going through it.”

His eyes twinkled with interest, “Yeah and what club do you support?”

You ceased a chuckle, “West Ham. So I’m really not in any place to speak.”

“Y/N! We need to get to our seats.” Brett called to you with a smug look on his face.

You knew that you were gonna hear it from him later.

“It was nice talking to you. Hopefully we meet again.” You waved goodbye, turning in the other direction.

When you’d caught up with Brett it was just a matter of waiting until he started teasing of you.

“Mount’s the bloke you were talking to yeah?” Brett began.

“I swear to god Brett if you say anything to the others…” You started before being cut off.

“I won’t say anything. I promise. Other than Y/N’s got a little boyfriend.” He teased.

“This is why I hate you.” You replied with a roll of the eyes.

“Hey! Someone’s gotta do it.” He defended himself with a smile.

The two of you jokingly shoved each other on the way to your seats, you with Mason Mount on your mind the whole way.

six months later…

“I’m not going to lie, pretty sure people hated season 3.” Toheeb, who played Sam Obisanya mumbled to you and the rest of the cast.

After being renewed for a fourth season, you lot were back and filming again.

“We’re like apple tv’s only successful show ever.” Hannah, who plays Rebecca, mentioned.

“That’s why they’re trying to increase the star power this season. Some *actual* footballers are supposed to be guest starring.” Brett informed.

“YOOOOO. Mbappes about to guest star innit!” Phil, who played the infamous Jaime Tartt got very excited.

“No way. The cost for Mbappe to do a 30 second appearance would probably cost the whole season’s budget.” You scoffed.

“Well whoever it is, they’re supposed to shoot their scenes today.” Jason, the Ted Lasso, informed the others.

“Say. Let’s get to shooting now yeah fellas!” He suggested, already slipping into his character.

About five hours later, they were almost done for the day.

“Okay Y/N. I assume you’ve read the script. You’re going to have a scene with the two guest stars. They already know what they have to say, so just do you and I’m sure the take will turn out great.” Jason encouraged.

You nodded, focusing to get in your element. Acting was understandably something that came easy to you. Though you were shy, there was always something appealing about masking your fear and embarrassment into a character. You nodded, focusing to get in your element. Acting was understandably something that came easy to you. Though you were shy, there was always something appealing about masking your fear and embarrassment into a character.

“You can take a water break, maybe five minutes, the guest stars should be here once you get back.” The episode’s director told you.

You nodded, very excited to get some water and some food. You were very very hungry. You walked over to your trailer parked right next to set and grabbed some of the snacks you always had on hand. You almost groaned in frustration when you thought the only thing you had was pistachios, but inwardly celebrated once you saw the cola gummies that you absolutely adored.

“Y/N! We’re about to start the scene!” An assistant director informed, knocking on your trailer.

You stuffed the last bit of cola gummies into your mouth then sped walk back to set. A hair and makeup artist fixed your hair and touched up your makeup before going back to where the camera was fixated.

“I’m here! I’m here! Sorry, I got a bit hungry.” You smiled sheepishly.

“All good Y/N. Now Y/N these are the two guest stars, Mason Mount and Reece James, they both play for Chelsea. Mason, Reece, this is Y/N, she’s one of our stars.” The director began introductions.

You quirked an eyebrow when you heard the names. You turned to your side to see Reece smiling at you, and Mason staring at you with an astonished look. He literally knew you starred in Ted Lasso, why was he surprised?

Wow.

“Hi Y/N! I’m Reece, this is Mason, we’re both big fans!” Reece said, coming over to you with Mason in tow.

You didn’t know who were expecting but Mason Mount was certainly not it. Seen you’d met him at the Ballon d’or ceremony, he’d improved his game tremendously, getting out of the slump he was in in no time. He was becoming the star that got him nominated for the ballon d’or a season or two ago.

“Hi Reece, Mason. It’s a pleasure.” You smiled, shaking Reece’s hand.

“Reece! If you can come over here so we can tell you your lines, Mason knows his already.” A producer called Reece away.

“I’ve been watching your games.” You were the first to speak.

“Still been struggling?” He asked with a knowing smile.

“Very impressed with how quickly you improved your game. Maybe if Messi and Mbappe didn’t exist, you’d stand a chance at the ballon d’or.” You teased.

“I really have been meaning to thank you ya know.” Mason suddenly turned serious.

“What?”

“It was something you said about how Chelsea wasn’t doing so well, and we weren’t. It made me so determined to put in extra work and extra hours in training. You’re part of the reason I’m back on my game. So thank you.” He confessed.

“I’m not one to take credit for other’s hard work. But I appreciate that, thank you.”

“Mason! Y/N! Let me show you your positioning!” The director called out.

About two hours later, the last scene had been shot for the day. You were about to get in your car and drive home before you heard Mason calling for you.

“What’s up Mase?” You asked, turning around.

“Here.” He said, slipping a piece of paper into your hand.

You opened it and successfully avoided blushing when you saw a phone number written down. “This yours?” You teased, waving it in front of him.

He nodded, hands stuffed in his pockets.

“I’m not making the same mistake I did last time.” He winked, walking away.

You stood there dumbfounded until you saw Brett’s provoking smirk several meters away from you.

“Y/N’s got a boyfriend. Y/N’s got a boyfriend.” He sang while walking to his car.

“I hate millennials.” You groaned.

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neonponders · 1 year

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Hi, this is a rant:

Okay boomer this and boomer that but listen, I’ve been reading about certain boomers (namely Liza Minnelli, Judy Garland, Eartha Kitt, and Marilyn Monroe) and these people are fascinating.

Sure, it’s easy to deep dive into wiki pages of people who were inclusive, or at least more-so than their peers, but the the underground golden age of Hollywood that was actually in NYC makes me have an acute fomo that I can’t even explain. Maybe my old soul is twitching.

Liza’s voice is so much like her mother’s (Judy Garland) that it’s eery, haunting, and breathtakingly beautiful. It’s like a ghost just walked into the room.

The way Judy so desperately wanted to be in love and be loved and slept around in an industry that produces more gossip than movies - you go, girl. And then the way these affairs were usually with men already married and she had to have two abortions, just *sigh* this was a person. Not ink on a poster.

Judy dealt with severe anxiety before a performance on Bing Crosby’s talk show, and he outright spoke to the crowd like, Hey. It’s common knowledge that stars are going through things, but let’s treat this singer like a person who needs your excitement and laughter and smiles. Here’s Judy.

And she blossomed. Bing, I hate your name, but that was some good shit.

Marilyn was so ahead of her time, undervalued, under appreciated. How she, and so many other women, Judy included, had to change their names and appearance just to have jobs in the field of their passion.

Never mind all of the abuse and trauma these women grew up with and dealt with on a daily basis from the men in their lives and workplace.

People look at a picture of Marilyn and are like, “Yeah, blond hair and big boobs.”

NO! This woman was a walking mental health disaster that was not her fault, and I want to reach into that poster and hold her and feed her grapes.

“Eartha Kitt? Oh, yeah, Madame Zeroni and Yzma.”

Yes, but NO! This woman got basically exiled out of America for making the First Lady cry (good f*cking riddance) and proceeded to be a smash hit in Europe until the political scene calmed down enough for her to come back to America.

"Liza Minnelli? The old lady who’s losing her marbles?”

SHE !! IS !! OLD !!! And what a privilege to be old when her mother was an addict who accidentally overdosed, and Liza has been dealing with alcoholism and massive health issues her entire life - and surviving.

These women were born in violence, grew up in abuse, and lived and worked in such an awful industry that didn’t deserve them and I’m just *sigh*

Happy Valentine’s Day.

#not harringrove #neonponders #this is a rant

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cherriesfineline · 3 years

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Au Pair – Chapter I

It's finally here – I'm sorry this took so long, this past few weeks have been a mess but here it is, our first chapter for the Au Pair series; I kinda hate this, ngl- I always hate first chapters, a lot of introductory info and bla bla but yeah.

In the weird case you happen to enjoy this and want to be added into the taglist (starting next chapter) you can request it here.

Feedback, likes or reblogs are so, so appreciated! I'm very much new to the whole writing world so yeah it'd be really helpful to hear your thoughts about this <3

Love you all, have a wonderful week beauties!

Warnings: none specifically for this chapter – age gap.

WC: 6.6k

Masterlist

Y/N was tired, to say the least.

And it wasn’t the tiredness she used to feel after a long work shift at her previous job -where her boss was an old, grumpy lady with horrible manners- or the exhaustion felt after spending hours crying due to a fight with her mother. No, this was different. It was a tiredness she couldn’t get rid of; a tiredness no lavender smelling bath or hours upon hours of sleep could amend.

She couldn't pinpoint the exact moment her brain shifted in such a drastic way. Y/N could easily recognize and admit her life had never been an exciting one; a memorable one. Ever since she was a little girl it all seemed to fly by; graduations, birthdays, friendships – nothing ever seemed to leave an impact and nothing ever seemed as exciting as everyone else put it to be. She knew she struggled with allowing herself to enjoy things, but this far her life had been pretty average.

Maybe it was the fact that she was 22 years old and never been in a real relationship what skyrocketed her fear of dying alone. Now, she knew it might seem exaggerated – 22 years wasn’t a long life at all, but the pungent emptiness she’d been feeling felt like her inevitable destiny – like that’s how life was supposed to be for her.

England felt different, though. But in all honesty, her emotions hadn’t had switched into completely different ones like she’d expected to happen when she applied for this job as an Au Pair all the way back in February.

With a steaming hot cup of coffee between her cold hands, she sat down next to Coco (a very soft grey Scottish Fold) on the giant couch of her new home, scratching in between his tiny ears earning a low purr in response. Coco had become one of her closest friends so far, along with Anya, a three year old girl with cute blonde locks and a laugh so contagious it made the muscles on your cheeks ache after a long playdate.

Maybe moving away wasn’t the smartest choice. It actually might be one of the stupidest choices she had ever made, actually – moving all the way across the globe when she cried herself to sleep most nights due to her loneliness overcoming her (almost inexistent) self-awareness. Y/N liked to believe she had a wide understanding of her emotions, but it was a blatant lie.

At least she was distracted for most of the day – taking care of two kids and looking after a teenager wasn’t an easy task. It required a lot of mental presence; but by the time she was in bed at night, it all hit back again. She thought maybe this is how life is supposed to be for her, lonely – maybe it was not her brain playing her tricks but her brain making her see how her life truly was.

It’d been two weeks since the Lockehold family picked Y/N up from the airport, and on one side getting physically adjusted to this new life hadn't been as rough as she thought it’d be. She did have it easy, if she had to admit – a big room in a giant, beautiful home and a car to her disposal. Emotionally, on the other side, life was still the same.

She knew the moment she heard heels hitting the cold marble staircase Bella was on her way down with Ivy, the eldest of the three sisters, following close behind, complaining about a hangout she was apparently going to miss because they “are expecting a guest” as Bella announced, meaning neither of her parents could drive her. That’s how Y/N found herself sitting in her (borrowed) blue Jeep Renegade driving Ivy to her friend Lily’s house – who lived in the same rich, over-the-top neighborhood as her guest family, which meant the ride to and back was no longer than twenty minutes. During those minutes together, though, Y/N could physically feel the irritation running through Ivy’s blood because first, she still wasn’t too fond of Y/N because she is 16 and doesn’t need a babysitter -her words, not Y/N’s- and second, Y/N is still not accustomed to driving on the other side of the road.

Technically, Y/N had the weekends off. Living with the same people who employed her gladly didn’t mean working 24/7, but she hoped she could earn a couple of points in her favor if she took her free time to drive her around.

After a short conversation between the two (where Ivy refused to save Y/N’s number in case an emergency came up because she could always call her dad), Y/N dropped her off and drove back to the Lockehold’s. What caught her off guard, was the sight of someone in the driveway at the house next door getting suitcases out of the trunk of a black cab – there hadn’t been any movement in the old Victorian mansion since she’d moved in next door. A man, definitely very tall, dressed in a dark suit is all Y/N could decipher since it was already dark outside and she had to strictly concentrate on not switching to the opposite side of the road out of habit.

Alex was coming down the stairs when Y/N locked the front door – Bella’s husband was a very handsome man for his age, probably anyone could admit it. He was kind of scary sometimes, but was a true sweetheart on the inside; he’s in his mid-40’s and it was clear as day his family meant everything to him, he even treated Y/N like his own daughter, always making sure she’s comfortable and inviting her to most family hangouts – even though Y/N declined pretty often to allow them to have quality time as a family (and because being too socially involved drained her, but they needn’t have to know that)

“You wanna join us for dinner? We have a guest tonight. A family friend.”

“Oh, no, I'm good, you guys enjoy yourselves. I’ll say hello, though.” Y/N replied with a smile; and as before mentioned, even though she had the weekends to herself, they still loved to insist on her joining them for fancy dinners and whatnot. The Lockehold’s loved being hostesses, loved having people around (from what Y/N learned this past two weeks) but she really wanted -and needed- some time for herself after being with them the entire week, and even though she loved hanging out with them, she just wasn’t in the mood tonight.

“You sure? Bella made homemade pasta, from scratch. Her specialty.” Mouthwatering, Y/N thought. Bella was such an amazing cook, and even though she worked hours upon hours every day, she still came to her husband and kids in time to make dinner every night, not missing a single day.

“Sounds delicious, but I think I’ll pass, I’m just really tired.” And before anyone could make another comment, the loud bell ringing through the main floor of the house startled Y/N as it’s louder than ordinary – and sounded kind of old and creepy, in her opinion. By the time the constant thud in her chest lowered to a normal speed, she could recognize Bella’s voice in the foyer, meaning she was the one who received their guest, with a deep voice following after saying 'thank you for having me'.

"He's here!" Alex clasped his hands together, a wide smile appearing in his face. Y/N followed him into the living room where Bella was already chatting animatedly with a man; tall and with broad shoulders (but not excessively; just the right amount) his figure was leaning slightly forward as he listened to Bella rambling about all the 'good things he had missed while he was away'. His hands were clasped on his back and when he lifted his head, he made direct eye contact with Y/N without even having to search for her eyes. His brown curls were perfectly placed on top of his head looking extremely soft, and when he ran his hand through it Y/N couldn’t help but swallow harshly. He undoubtedly looked like someone who belonged in Hollywood next to a young Leo DiCaprio and he was definitely older than Y/N – probably already in his 30's, she guessed, but ageing like the finest wine. He had the softest looking wrinkles in the corners of his eyes – those eyes, forest green; reminded Y/N of what used to be home for her. His intense gaze held a lot of emotion, a lot of thought, unlike his face, that appeared stiff and cold, with a slight crease between his brows. His pink, heart-shaped lips were pressed in a line, a cute mole adorning one side of his chin.

"Harry! It's so good to see you, we've missed you." Alex's excitement forced him to drift his gaze away from Y/N, leaving her like a heated teenager salivating for him. Y/N honestly thought he might had left her speechless and most likely with increasing probabilities to make a fool out of herself if someone needed her to talk, as she was certain she wouldn't be able to formulate any coherent sentences.

Harry. It totally suited him, Y/N repeated his name a couple of times inside her head to check on its pronunciation. Alex reached him and pulled him in a big hug, patting each other's back, and Harry's lips broke into a huge smile making a line of pearly white teeth appear. And dimples. God, he had dimples.

This is how I die, Y/N thought.

"So good to see you, Alex." If sex was a sound, his voice would definitely be it.

"Your skin is glowing, Harry. Italy always does you wonders." Bella gushed. And she was right – his skin had this beautiful golden undertone, but it looked natural and radiant, almost like the sun itself kissed and caressed his skin with the softest touches. Alex snapped Y/N into reality when he turned to face her and grabbed her hand to pull her closer to them, starting a long introduction no one was paying much attention to, explaining how he’d missed her arrival, like he even cared, and how she was the Au Pair they’d all been talking about ever since February. It wasn’t until Alex mentioned something about Y/N and Harry probably seeing each other a lot she was suddenly interested in what was actually going on.

“He owns the school the girl’s attend.” Alex directed towards her. Now, Y/N assumed the moment she laid eyes on him he was probably rich – who wears a suit to a Sunday dinner with friends? Rich people are weird, that’s something we can all agree on; but owning a school which’s monthly fees per kid were worth three of her salaries? That was quite unexpected.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Harry." Y/N offered him her hand, trying to sound as casual as possible, even if her skin felt like it was burning under his intense gaze and her eyes were definitely betraying her.

"The pleasure’s all mine, Y/N." He shook her hand. His strong hold sent shivers down her spine; the cold rings making a big contrast against the heat his hand radiated and she couldn't help but fantasize about how his touch would feel in some other places.

The sudden embarrassment feeling hot against her cheeks made her turn around impossibly faster, feeling guilty at the dirty thoughts consuming her brain while around her bosses – and in front of him. Making a beeline straight to her room, announcing she was calling it a night, she sent Harry a quick -but quite charming- smile, and couldn’t help but soften at the sound of Anya running down the stairs yelling an excited ‘Harryyyy’ once she was past the kitchen.

She knew she got lucky with her commodities – an entire studio-like apartment past the main kitchen of the house, where the servant’s area used to be located a handful of decades ago; but she cussed in a whisper when she remembered half way through her making of a sandwich (four hours after she’d retreated to her bedroom and because she decided on skipping dinner that night, not having enough energy to cook) that her lazy ass still hadn’t bought mayonnaise. Her small kitchen had enough space to hold her snacks, along with some ingredients to make a few meals, since she only had to worry about food on the weekends. Reluctantly, she took the small plate holding her sandwich and made her way towards the main kitchen. There was no way in hell she’d eat a sandwich with no mayo – never in a million years, too dry to go down her throat.

I guess they won't mind if I grab just enough to put on my sandwich, she thought. The house was quiet, everyone probably already in bed, therefore she almost pissed herself when she found Harry sitting in one of the kitchen stools, looking down at his phone with an annoyed expression adorning his face. Almost as if he could sense someone was in the same room, he looked up to find Y/N standing at the kitchen threshold, his face abandoning any sort of emotion.

"Hey."

"Hi." Y/N walked towards the fridge on the far right of the kitchen, opposite from where she came in. "Sorry, I thought no one was here."

"Don't worry, just waiting for Bella and Alex to come back down to have some tea, they're putting the girls to sleep. Would you like to join us?" He offered. And honestly, she'd love to say yes and just listen to him talk with that deep, melodic voice, but her stomach was really hating her right now.

"I'm good, just grabbing some mayo. Thank you, though." She declined with a small smile.

"Next time." He sounded more demanding than suggesting, which slightly baffled Y/N. "Can I ask where you are from?" He asked respectfully.

"A small town in the Argentine Patagonia." Y/N replied with her back facing him as she busied herself with the mayonnaise container.

"Never been to Argentina. Or anywhere in South America, actually." And when Y/N turned around, sandwich in hand ready to go back to her room, their eyes met across the kitchen and she felt the heat creeping up her neck for the second time that night. Y/N wondered how his gaze was always this intense – she wasn’t a fan of how they’d barely exchanged a few words and somehow she felt so exposed.

"You should. It's beautiful." She almost, almost, choked on her own words and when she looked down at her fuzzy pink socks and back to him to try and calm her growing nerves down, he surprised her when she caught him looking up and down her body – in any other case she definitely would’ve felt creeped out, but there was something about him, the fact that he definitely didn’t do it with the intention of her catching him (she noticed how he shifted uncomfortably on his seat after the exchange) and how he simply added a “I’m sure it is," afterwards, she knew she was fucked right then and there – she wanted him looking at her. Was that something bad?

But then – then she remembered how she was wearing her soft cotton pajamas, and she began wondering if he was just laughing internally at her outfit instead of checking her out like she initially thought. And just like a save from heaven, Bella and Alex appeared in the kitchen discussing who was picking Ivy up from her friend's house. "Hi Y/N, still awake?"

"Yeah, got hungry. Stole a bit of mayo, hope you don't mind." She shyly held the plate up.

"Please, this is your house too." Alex waved her off.

"Thanks. Gonna go back now." Y/N pointed towards the small hallway that led to her room. "Goodnight." Turning her body to walk away, she caught Harry's eyes, again, still staring at her, but decided on simply walking away, breaking eye contact, making that small interaction their last one for the night.

The following week consisted of Anya and Y/N playing lots of fun games, trying to get a word out of Charlie and Ivy ignoring her for the most part. Her relationship with each of them was completely different, each trusting her at their own peace, getting used to having a stranger around. Anya seemed the only one openly excited to hang out with Y/N every day, and even though she could tell Charlie didn't exactly mind her presence, she still hadn't talked to her as much as she'd like her to.

"What are you up to, Charlie?" Y/N asked the seven year old as she sat next to her in the big playroom they had on the main floor. Charlie kept her gaze locked on her drawing with a handful of crayons on her right hand as she drew with her left. "You're left handed? That's so cool!" Bella had mentioned some time ago that Charlie had a really hard time letting people in, Y/N knew it'd take some time for her to see her as a friend -like she wanted her to- rather than someone who gets paid to hang out with her, but Bella confessed Charlie was actually really excited to meet Y/N, which felt like a small relief, knowing she actually wanted her there – unlike Ivy. Charlie spoke only when necessary and struggled with making friends but her psych pedagogue said she's just really shy and that ‘once she breaks out of her shell, she's unstoppable’. "I love the birds you drew here." Y/N pointed at some small birds sitting in a tree branch.

"Bluebirds." She murmured.

Getting a single word from her was considered progress, in Y/N’s opinion, but that’s all she got for the entire afternoon – even after constantly sending comments her way while playing with Anya so Charlie wouldn’t feel left out, not a single word came out of her mouth. Anya mentioned Harry at some point while talking about her favorite doll (which Harry had gifted her for her 3rd birthday) and the flash of captivating green eyes almost blinded her internally (she couldn’t deny she’d thought about Harry every once in a while this past week)

And it wasn’t until later that same day, after spending a long while sitting alone in a nearby park, she got the chance to see him again – even if he had scared her (almost) to death, she couldn’t help but feel an annoying flutter in her stomach.

She would like to say she loved her long walks during the most unreasonable times at night, but her reasoning behind her late night needs of distraction didn’t exactly thrill her. It was during the quietest and most peaceful times of the day when her mind seemed to speed faster than ever before; the sleepless nights and brain-wrecking thinking of how alone and empty she actually felt, along with the laziness and reluctance when it came to things that used to make her happy weighed her down like carrying a sack of potatoes on her back.

As she was walking past her neighbor's house (the one where she had seen that man with the suitcases last week) she noticed someone sitting on the large porch. Weird, she thought. She hadn't noticed any movement in the house since that night a week ago, to the point she even considered it being empty again. The silhouette seemed oddly familiar though she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

"Y/N." She slightly jumped as she heard them call for her, in a strong and deep accent. Was that...

"Harry?" She asked befuddled. Did he live there? She watched as he stood up from his sitting position on the outdoor couch and walked across his front yard to take a closer look at him stopping at the bottom of the short staircase that leads to the porch. "What are you doing up so late?" And then something clicked in her brain – he was probably the man she saw that night, with his suitcases. It made sense, how he probably got home from vacation the same day he had dinner at the Lockehold's – the same day Bella mentioned something about him being in Italy

"Can't sleep." He simply replied, with a small sigh. He then nodded to the seat behind him, and Y/N could physically feel her brain going a thousand miles per minute. She sat on the far left of the couch as he retook his seat on the right, "what are you doing up so late?" He repeated her question.

And Y/N repeated his answer. "Can't sleep."

So they sat in silence, what felt like hours barely being a few seconds. "Didn't know you lived next door." Y/N took the time to take in his side profile - sharp and long nose, the tip curving slightly downwards when he spoke the next line.

"Never mentioned it." He replied apathetically. The unexpected switch in his tone made her immediately shut up, and even though it confused Y/N as to why he would want her joining him if he didn't want to talk, she was dreading going back to her room alone to drown in her thoughts again. She'd take uncomfortable company over being alone when her head got like this, it helped her get distracted; overthinking this situation instead of the same scenarios that constantly lived in her head.

They again sat in silence for a while, this time for longer than a few minutes, and even though it was slightly uncomfortable, there was an unspoken understanding between them. He just wanted company, and so did she. This time, however, it was him who tried for conversation. "Why did you choose England for your Au Pair program?"

"I was actually convinced I was going to choose France," Y/N shared with a soft tone, "but when I met the girls in one of my interviews I just knew I had to come here. Anya was so excited about meeting me, she thought it was already settled." She ended with a small smile on her lips. The memory of Anya smiling happily at her through the computer screen even when she hadn't had met her yet warming her heart.

It was true, the fact that she’d chosen England because of the girls. She wanted to learn French – she knew her way around the English language pretty well; but the French family whom interviewed her didn’t come close to the Lockehold’s at all – she thought maybe the experience of living in a whole different continent with a wonderful family was better than choosing a place because of the language – the experience was being experienced either way.

"Anya is a very special kid. They all are." Harry declared, the left corner of his mouth turning upwards in a small half smile.

Y/N nodded slowly before asking, "How long have you known them?" She could recall Alex saying he was a family friend – but she had no other information about him besides that.

"A while." The small conversation went for a long while, he shared the real reason as to why he was awake so late, explaining how he has struggled with falling asleep ever since he was young, but besides that comment, he kept his life very private; not sharing much information about himself during their chat, and every time Y/N reciprocated a question, he would either answer vaguely or didn't answer at all, changing the subject with another question. "It's really late" He commented, Y/N’s phone reading 1:08am.

"Yeah, I should probably go to bed." She lifted her head to look at him, who was already searching for her eyes. Y/N cleared her throat when a few moments passed by, again, with no one speaking a word. She wondered what could possibly be going through his head at the time, but he nodded, got up and said, "I'll see you around, Y/N." Her name flowed so nicely out of his lips it made her knees get weak. Locking herself in her bedroom (after entering it by the door at the side of the house – which leaded straight to her room) she laid in bed trying to understand why they’d just hang out in his front porch way past midnight when they clearly didn’t know each other very well – or at all, better said.

First day of classes came by in a heartbeat. The first Monday of September Y/N found herself getting up earlier than she was accustomed to, since the girl's sleeping schedule was different during the summer. 6:15am read her alarm when she lazily threw the soft covers off her body. A quick shower and minimal makeup application later, she stood naked next to her bed checking the weather app, as to know how to prepare the girl's clothes.

After putting a soft pink sweater on and a pair of flared jeans, Y/N left the warmth of her room to wake the girls up. Going for Charlie first (since she didn't need any help changing into her uniform and Ivy used her own alarm) she didn't give Y/N any work at all, waking up immediately after softly calling her name once. Picking her uniform from her closet and leaving it for her to change, Y/N left Charlie’s room to walk towards the next door.

"Morning, Anya." She whispered as she brushed some of her hair out of her face. Anya’s little nose scrunched up and a soft whimper left her mouth as she switched positions, now laying on her side, "gotta wake up, love." Y/N shook her arm softly, and she finally opened her eyes, a tired smile creeping up her face as she noticed it was Y/N sitting next to her. Y/N left her to rub the tiredness off her eyes while she picked her clothes (since her daycare was at the same school her older sister's attended -Harry's school, Y/N couldn't help but think- her uniform consisted of only a white t-shirt with the school logo along with any pair of bottoms she chose for the day.

After picking up her cute small rain boots and help her get dressed up, Y/N did a cute hairstyle on her with the small butterfly hair clips she chose, and went back to Charlie's room to do her hair, Anya coming along.

They arrived at their school; a big, period-like brick building with hundreds of students roaming around and a beautiful fountain at the front – which actually made Y/N’s childhood look like a big joke; the school she had attended was located in the middle of the mountains in a remote field.

"I'll be here at two thirty. Good luck, girls, I'll see you later." Ivy walked away sending a 'mhm' her way to let her know she heard her, and Charlie offered a small smile along with a wave and walked away like her sister. Y/N took Anya off her car seat and helped her get out of the car, her tiny backpack sitting on Y/N’s right shoulder as she grabbed the hand Anya offered her.

"Mommy said I have the penguins' classroom!" She said with excitement as they walked through the doors at the right wing of the building.

"That's so cool! I love penguins, let's search for the door which has penguins on it, shall we?" Y/N suggested even though she could clearly see their door at the end of the hallway.

"Yes! This one has elephants," she pointed at the door they were passing, "look, butterflies!"

"Like your hairclips!" Y/N exclaimed, and she giggled nodding her head. "Ah! Look what we found..." Y/N pointed at the next door.

"Penguins!" She skipped towards the door, dragging Y/N along. They entered the big and colorful classroom where they found some kids crying in their parent’s arms, others being as excited as Anya.

"Hi there! Anya, am I correct?" A woman who appeared to be around Y/N’s age came up to them, scrunching down to be on Anya’s eye level. She nodded frantically, excitement dripping from her smile. "My name is Miss Pia, I'm going to be your teacher this year." She introduced herself, Anya gave her an even bigger smile and slyly asked if she could go meet her classmates, to which Miss Pia agreed, asking her to first hang her small backpack in the rack at the back of the room, taking it from my hands and running excitedly to do it.

"You must be Y/N, then?" Miss Pia asked, getting back up to her feet. She was short with blonde curly hair sitting high in a ponytail, rosy cheeks and a cute teacher apron on top of her regular clothes.

"I am." Y/N offered her hand.

"The administration office said we would be having an Au Pair this year, they always give us a heads up with situations like these." She explained, and Y/N nodded as she continued, "we have the parents, nannies or in this case, Au Pairs," they both laughed," stay for the introduction, you can leave afterwards."

"Perfect, I'll sit at the back with the rest of the parents." Y/N ended up staying for about half an hour, smiling at Anya every time she turned to search for her when something exciting seemed to be happening. She won't be needing any adaptation, as Miss Pia said, and she was dismissed right before they had their first trip to the playground outside, taking advantage of the fact that it hadn't started raining yet.

Right when Y/N was walking out of the building, she spotted Harry at the main entrance, reading something on his phone. He was wearing a navy blue suit with a white shirt underneath, and he looked even more handsome in the daylight. She made her way towards him, walking up the marble stairs (marble stairs! In a school?), and when he noticed her, he put his phone away and slowly (and trying to be as discrete as possible – which he failed to, again) looked up and down her body. Something about him giving her his full attention made her insides burn, and she couldn’t help but bit her bottom lip to suppress a smile.

"Hi." She stopped in front of him, taking a moment to look at his eyes; they definitely looked a lot lighter now that there was natural light surrounding them.

"Hi." He repeated, "Dropped the girl's off?" He motioned towards the building with his head.

"Yes, just left Anya’s classroom." She shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

"Miss Pia?" He asked, squinting his eyes.

"Yes. She's nice, looks like she knows what she's doing." Y/N shrugged. She didn't exactly know her enough to have a conversation about her – and she most definitely couldn’t be one to talk, since she herself didn’t know what she was doing half of the time. “How’s the first day back been so far?” He got cut off from his next comment by his phone, and the small crease between his eyebrows grew deeper, which didn’t go unnoticed by Y/N. "I'll leave you to it." She announced, but his eyes found hers again, and it was almost like he was asking for her to not leave him to it, but Y/N didn’t trust her instincts, not with him – not when he made her so nervous her brain couldn’t process things around him, and she was scared of misreading his expressions; he was hard to read. Not like she was expert at reading people but he was frustratingly confusing.

They didn't see each other again until a week later on a Tuesday evening – the same day Charlie, Anya and her decided to go for a walk and treat themselves with ice cream from a cute shop across from (what had come to be) her favorite park, Harry and Y/N found each other's eyes across his front garden, just like that night, but this time it was easy for her to recognize him as she could see his face clear and glowing from the sunset shine. His eyes were glued to her until the fence that divided their houses blocked his view, and again, Y/N wondered what could be going through his head.

It wasn’t until after dinner, past her work hours, she decided to leave the house through the door on her room with the sparking curiosity to test if she would run into Harry. Stopping on the sidewalk in front of his house, she noticed he was not sitting outside, and even though that's exactly what she had expected -he was not going to sit there for hours and hours, right?- There still was a small feeling of disappointment that rushed through her, and when she snapped back into reality, it was too late to stop herself as she knocked on his front door.

And Y/N didn’t know where to hide – not like hiding would be less embarrassing but God she did hate herself that moment. The embarrassment running through her veins was painful and made her lightheaded – she knew she had trouble sometimes with not thinking things through, but this was beyond her. He barely knew her. And suddenly his door was wide open.

"Y/N?" Of course she was not lucky enough for him to be asleep and not hearing her knock – life would’ve been too in her favor for that to happen. Of course he was very awake with a half drank cup of tea in his hand and the softest looking pair of grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips. "Are you ok? You look really pale." His voice was calm, probably the softest it'd ever been in her presence. At least he doesn't sound mad, Y/N thought.

Harry wanted to be confused, but he was more curious than anything else. For some reason, he felt very intrigued by Y/N – how she seemed confident but insanely insecure at the same time; it reminded him of himself, if he had to be honest. He just learned how to hide the latter.

"Uh, yeah- um, I was-" she nervously turned around halfway to look behind her and back at him again. He raised his eyebrows in curiosity and Y/N really tried her hardest not to step over her words. "I was about to go for a walk, uh, I was wondering if you'd like to join me?" Stupid. So, so stupid, Y/N thought.

"No, I'm good." He replied, finding oh-so-amusing the way her eyes gave her embarrassment away – he was having fun, watching her like a lost puppy trying to think through her next words.

Her mind was, of course, over speeding. She now felt even more embarrassed. Of course he doesn't want to go for a walk, Y/N conscience spoke to her, it's a Tuesday night and he's probably tired and I'm his friends' Au Pair – he probably thinks I'm this young and annoying girl who has a stupid crush and- "would you like to join me?" He interrupted her self-beating up raising his cup and she noticed the half smile adorning his face, almost like he could tell the wheels in her brain were fast-moving.

"Wouldn't want to interrupt-"

"You're not. I wouldn't have invited you in if you were. C'mon in, now. It's kinda cold out here." He disappeared inside of his house, leaving her on his porch with an open mouth and a blank brain. After closing the door behind her and taking her black vans off, she turned on her left as she guessed that was the way Harry went – and she knew she’d guessed correctly when she stepped into a big open-plan concept living room with a giant kitchen on the far back, Harry standing with his back towards her preparing her tea, "sugar?"

"No, thank you." She sat in one of the stools at the kitchen island as she took the scene in front of her. Her very cute (and much older), very hot neighbor Harry, in sweatpants and a very thin white shirt, a small patch of skin showing on his hip, making her tea. His shoulders were broad and she could see his back muscles moving as he poured steaming hot water into the cup, the little curls on his neck so inviting, if only she could run her hand through his soft looking hair just once-

"There you go. Cardamom." He snapped her out of her (probably inappropriate) thoughts, and she thanked him as she grabbed the cup from where he placed it; he stayed in his position standing in front of her on the other side of the island, with his forearms against the cold marble, sipping on his own mug, thinking about how strange it felt to have someone he wasn’t close with sitting in his kitchen after so long. "Why are you up so late?"

"I couldn't sleep."

"I figured. I couldn't either, looks like we both have a bit of sleeping issues, huh?" He sounded playful, but tired. Y/N knew exactly how it felt, being so tired but not being able to peacefully go to bed and get some needed rest.

"I remember you mentioning it before, I figured I'd check if you were up. Walking helps me relax, thought maybe you'd enjoy it too." OK, that wasn't entirely true but her reasoning to be there was quite similar – to check if he was up so they could, maybe, share a quiet night like that one a few weeks ago. None of them understood why they found such comfort in each other’s company – none of them felt like they needed to try too hard.

At some point during their conversation they moved to the couch, where they laid with a wide gap between their bodies. "Elton John's was definitely an interesting read. Lots of crazy anecdotes, you should read it."

"Probably not as good as Keith's, but I'll give it a go." He let a dimpled smile creep into his face, turning his head to look at her from across the couch and the annoying turn her stomach made obliged her to return it, just as bright as his. Finding out their music taste was quite similar made Y/N’s insides all warm and fuzzy, he showed her his vinyl collection (which was quite large) and ranted about how the modern industry was missing a rock star with some of that unexplainable essence old rock bands have – to which she respond saying maybe that something that makes them special was the fact that they were old bands... added to the fact that even though she was an old music lover, modern pop was her guilty pleasure.

Their third teacups were long forgotten on the modern coffee table by the time he noticed Y/N’s eyes were slowly beginning to close and he, as last time, said, "it's really late." And Y/N only nodded and tiredly got up from her position, with him following close behind.

"Goodnight, Harry. Thank you for having me even though I came unannounced." She shyly said, her actions still making her embarrassed even though it had already been a couple of hours.

"My pleasure. We should- do this again," He coughed into his hand, and uncomfortably continued, "I enjoy your company." That sentence alone made her heart explode with a thousand emotions, because even though they barely knew each other and it clearly pained him to admit he enjoyed having her around, his presence made her calm but anxious in a peculiar mixture of emotions. All she did in return was gift him a big smile, face hot of embarrassment (a nice kind of embarrassment, that feeling when you just want to smile really big and tightly hug whoever is making you feel that way) and slowly pushed herself up on her tiptoes to give him a sweet kiss on the cheek. "Bye." He said lastly, and closed his front door with red cheeks and dimples on display.

- Joey.

#AP #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #age!gap harry #my writing

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beachboysnatural · 2 years

Text

Okay, I’m going to try to organize my thoughts about Dean and Dabb and Errol Flynn (x). Trigger warning for alcoholism, sexual assault allegations, death. So, first off, some background. Errol Flynn was an actor during the Golden Age of Hollywood. As a young man, he allegedly had plenty of adventures in and around Australia and Polynesia, where he grew up. (I say allegedly because most of the accounts of his adventures are from his autobiography, and said autobiography is estimated to be at least 50% false.) He was a womanizer, he was a drug addict, and he was an alcoholic, but he was charismatic and he could act, so he eventually made his way to Hollywood, where he landed the leading role in Captain Blood (1935). With the help of his frequent costar Olivia de Havilland and frequent director Michael Curtiz, Flynn brought back the swashbuckling genre, something that hadn’t been in style since Douglas Fairbanks (the first onscreen swashbuckler) was big, during the silent era. But Flynn had something Fairbanks didn’t--he could talk. Pretty much every action hero ever is based on Flynn’s take on the swashbuckler, particularly in The Adventures of Robin Hood (1938), which is his most well-known film (and his best, because it’s my favorite movie of all time). He’s witty, he’s charming, he’s a rakish rogue with a heart of gold. Who does this sound like to you? Westley, from the Princess Bride? Flynn Rider, from Tangled? Or maybe Han Solo, from Star Wars. Han exemplifies all these traits. And, just to beat a dead horse, who was based off of Han Solo? Dean Winchester. Early seasons Dean--Kripke’s Dean--has surface level characterization that is just another Errol Flynn character. He even takes on some of Flynn’s real-life characteristics, such as womanizing and having a not-so-great relationship with alcohol. But the plot thickens. By the dawn of World War II, Flynn was a huge star, he had a not great personal life and by his own admission he was sick of the roles he was forced to play. But he needn’t have worried. His onscreen persona was irreparably damaged by allegations of draft dodging and sexual assault. Flynn had malaria from his travels as a young man, so he was medically unfit for war, but rather than make their strong, manly man look weak, Warner Bros. kept the information under wraps and let people think what they wanted. Flynn was also accused of statutory rape by two separate women. He denied the allegations in his autobiography, but given his behavior later in life...well. He was acquitted, but his career stuttered and eventually fizzled out by the early 1950s. Because his persona relied on him actually being a good person at heart, people reacted negatively to finding out that Flynn wasn’t a good person. Flynn sank further into alcoholism and debt, and died at age fifty due to health problems hugely exacerbated by his failing liver. By his side was his seventeen-year-old girlfriend he’d been dating for two years. Remember how I said Dean’s “surface level” characterization was a Han Solo type, or a Robin Hood type, or an Errol Flynn type? Yeah. Dean’s whole thing is that he is not who he pretends to be. But unlike Flynn, Dean’s true self is just some guy who wears hot dog pajamas and watches movies with his husband, not a generally terrible person. However, as the seasons go on, Dean sinks further and further into alcoholism as the traumas stack up. His relationships grow static and he begins to look for a way out of the job he hates. Like Flynn, aspects of his real self begin to permeate the image he has created for himself. He’s not the fun womanizer who enjoys a good time anymore, he’s a sad old man nursing a beer. There are parallels between them, and in classic Supernatural fashion, they are badly misused by Andrew Dabb. Dabb likes Dean to be a bully and a dick. This is evidenced by, gee, I don’t know, every episode he ever wrote. His first two come to mind. Dean’s alcoholism isn’t a trauma response to him, it’s an aspect of his personality that makes him suck. Dean’s macho man bravado isn’t covering up his queerness or neurodivergency, it’s covering up a real Errol Flynn type. Dabb got it right that Dean is hiding his true self under the swashbuckler (who cannot exist outside a vacuum but that’s not what this is about) but he got the true self completely wrong. Dabb thinks Dean is Errol Flynn, but he isn’t. He’s Dean. And that’s why Dabb- Dean is Like That.

#there is SO MUCH MORE i could say about flynn but i won't #this is not interesting to anyone but me but who cares #this also doesn't make that much sense but that's okay #spn #dean winchester #spn meta

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missorgana · 3 years

Text

everything i do (gonna think of you)

pairing: finn/poe dameron

fandom: star wars (sequel trilogy

rating: teen and up

word count: 4690

warning: swearing, alcohol

summary: Finn and Poe are on a break. Neither of them are okay. But Finn hears Poe singing about him on the radio, and they'll be okay. Always. (musician poe, artist finn, long distance break-up + getting back together)

(it’s been ages but my space bfs, it’s good to be back!! a long overdue installment in my finnpoe alphabet series. did not expect e to be the most difficult letter to work with !!! thank you to Cat / @wendigostag as ALWAYS for beta reading and supporting my messy ideas 🥰 love uuuu. enjoy??)

read on ao3

“And now for the moment you’ve all been waiting for, I’m sure!”

The audience erupts in a half-laughter, half-cheer, and the host smiles, looking a bit too tired for his age.

“Tonight’s special performance is by someone who has, quite frankly, taken the whole of America - and dare I say the world? - by storm!”

Previous cheers resurface, louder and more certain than before. Even a few wolf whistles, making the presenter laugh as well.

“Here to perform his new single ‘cardigan’ from the debut album ‘folklore’, Poe Dameron!”

Quite literally everyone in the studio goes crazy, and as the camera directs towards the stage, a light turns on and reveals the curly haired man in all his glory.

He smiles slyly to the audience. A few noises, bordering on the line of screaming, makes him chuckle, but he puts all his focus on the guitar. Snaps, strums, and as the piano starts accompanying him, a soft voice forming strange and unfamiliar words.

Finn wipes the tear away in frustration before it even gets a chance to move, just tiny droplets stinging his vision. He’s sniffling, and biting his cheek, staring at the already half-empty bottle of red wine on the table.

Never in his life has he ever felt more pathetic, that’s true.

He doesn’t know why he’s watching this. And judging by the two texts pinging in on his phone, his best friend Rey somehow knows he’s doing it, too.

His vision’s too blurry to type, he thinks. Fuck it, pour another glass of wine. Who cares?

On the screen, Poe smiles while singing each word. But Finn knows the man better than anyone in that studio to know that it’s not really a smile. It’s the kind that his boyfriend- ex-boyfriend put on at their last FaceTime call. The one where he suggested they took a break.

He figures he should turn off the television when the performance comes to an end. No need to rub anymore salt in the wound, as Rey said.

Yet Finn sticks around for the interview because… because what? He hates himself? He hates Poe?

Neither. Maybe he misses him. Of course he misses him, enough to fight back the sobs, far from sober. But he’ll fight that obvious realisation, as well.

“Thank you for coming in tonight!” the host tells the singer, who thanks him in turn for the opportunity. Always the golden boy. The image of polite, kind, heart full of love, yet so goddamn stubborn.

“Mothers love me.” Poe had told him, back in college, the smug idiot. Finn’s mother loves him.

It’s mostly questions about the album, the upcoming tour, pictures of his parents and his pearly whites gleam when he speaks of them, how proud they are of him. It envelops Finn like a warm embrace. Huh. They haven’t hugged in five months.

They haven’t seen each other in five months.

Then the host starts grinning like a maniac, and he’s got a hunch what’s coming now is what he’s been wanting to ask all along, “Evidently, you got a lot of ladies who love you here.”

Audience cheers. Poe runs a hand through his hair. He’s so nervous, it’s adorable.

“You got a special lady in your life?” a question that quiets the audience significantly, still, waiting.

The singer glances at his shoes like they’re the most fascinating thing in the universe. Finn can’t hold his glass still, because, yeah. He looks like he’s thinking about it too hard. He wants to save him from that situation.

And although it feels like a million years pass, it’s probably only ten seconds before the reply settles, “Not at the moment, no.”

The crowd is nothing less than thrilled. And not only women, as the host implied, nah, everyone in that studio recognizes what a heartthrob Poe Dameron is. Finn couldn’t agree more.

What he knows about his ex-boyfriend that the strangers in the TV don’t know is, obviously, that Poe’s not interested in the ladies.

So does his family and close friends, anyone out of show business, really.

He also knows why his ex-boyfriend isn’t out to the public about his sexuality, yet. Or he’s got an idea. Maybe. Finn convinces himself of that, because then, he can also convince himself that he’s not the only one still feeling he’s being torn to pieces by this breakup. Feels better.

Although the screen connecting to his boyfriend’s call tugs on his heartstrings with its familiar warmth, Finn is, above all, pissed.

And for some reason, he feels ashamed for that. He knows he shouldn’t.

Poe hasn’t been home in a month. He was supposed to be here two weeks ago, but due to press bookings, credit to his boyfriend’s brand new agent, he called Finn late at night apologising like a broken record and promising to make it up to him.

And it makes him feel like shit.

Every apology made him feel more guilty for… harboring his time. Which is crazy, because they’ve been going steady for three years. They talked about this, the possibility of long distance, and knew, definitely, that it was gonna be hard, especially since they’ve been attached by the hip for so long.

Thing is, this has happened three times now, and it’s made Finn question himself.

Is he good enough for Poe? then later, another thought creeps in, Is Poe tired of him? or… is he not in love with him anymore?

Finn feels like he’s going crazy.

And even when he sees his boyfriend’s soft curls and eyes full of sunshine pop on his phone, it’s those thoughts that still inhabit his head. Fuck.

“Baby!” Poe says, excitement gleaming right through him and into Finn’s bedroom. They’ve been talking about moving in together, but, well, with long distance, mostly only talk for now. He’s off chasing the fame, which he deserves more than anyone, thank you very much, and Finn’s already booked up with art galleries and auctions eagerly grasping for his paintings. It feels like they’ve made it.

Except, “Phasma’s got me on Jimmy Kimmel! Like, can you believe that?!” his boyfriend spills out everything from this week, and it warms Finn’s chest, his gut, all the way down to his toes. But at the same time, this being Poe’s first words to him stirs weirdly alongside that warmth.

His career’s important. Of course. Finn’s happy for him, like, over the moon, all the way across the solar system happy.

He wants him to be successful. So then… then why does it feel like Poe prioritises it over them? It’s probably him overthinking it, he reasons. Again.

Finn can definitely feel he’s supposed to be sleeping right now; that’s another thing, cursed with being in vastly different time zones. He listens, smiling half-tiredly, thoughts wandering to everything and nothing.

Which is why he finds himself, all of a sudden, replying to his boyfriend’s, “I, uh, I’m actually writing you another song. Don’t laugh, please,” with, “A secret kind of song? ”

It takes Poe by surprise, visibly, and it takes himself, as well.

Finn bites down on his tongue in the cringe of it all. His boyfriend’s blinking, slowly, probably waiting for some sort of elaboration, but when he has no idea what to say, Poe inquires, “What do you mean?”

He sighs. Wholeheartedly, wistfully, nostalgic.

Finn thinks about when Poe asked him out, driving up to his window in true cheesy romantic comedy style and having offered to write essays in exchange for a school marching band performance.

Their first date, eating cotton candy and the curly haired boy insisting on trying and failing to win Finn a prize, until finally facing defeat. He won Poe a prize instead, first try, so the previous grumpiness faded in a matter of seconds. The butterflies threatened to burst his stomach the entire day.

Their first time, clumsy and awkward, teeth clanging in kisses and stupid buttons in Finn’s shirt being stuck and they laughed until they were out of breath. It was more perfect than anything either of them could’ve imagined.

He thinks about this, because neither of them were out before they got together.

This coming out thing? It scared the shit out of Finn. He was so lucky to have a supportive family, supportive friends. The school was a mixed experience, but he and Poe were in it together. His boyfriend tried to play it cool, but he knew how scared he was, too. He knows like the back of his hand, almost.

And this concern, it makes him feel so guilty he might vomit.

“I just… I was just wondering if you wanted to be official.”

“We are official, Finn.”

“No, I-I mean, public.”

He gulps around the growing lump in his throat. Poe goes scarily quiet.

This is also something they’ve talked about before. Fame is so new, it’s a whole new leap, learning how to handle all this, so it didn’t bother either of them to be secretive about their relationship, so to speak.

Their close network still knew, obviously, but the music industry, Hollywood, that’s way, way different than Finn’s newly established and growing network of artist connections and colleagues.

It wasn’t a problem. Until it was.

Coming out is personal. But ever since his boyfriend said he wanted to go public, then didn’t, as they were both on edge, then decided they should move in together and go public to slam down journalists linking Poe to a member of a girl group he met last summer, then didn’t.

It’s happened a couple of times. And finally, it seems, Finn is coming to terms with being tired of being ready and then backing out.

He’s terrified. Terrified of Poe being embarrassed of him, which he knows sounds crazy, also. But fuck.

“Baby, we’re gonna do it,” his boyfriend reassures him, but he’s distraught now, “You know we are. My agent just talks about my image, you know, I need to make sure-”

“Your image?”

That… that pisses Finn off. Conclusively. Because what the fuck?

“Phasma thinks we should do it at Christmas, season of love, you know?” Poe smiles shyly, he always loved the holidays. And he just doesn’t know how to react. “She’s fine with it, like, she didn’t ask me to fake being straight, like the guy I talked with before. Just-

“Are you embarrassed of me, Poe?” he finds the words slipping out before he can stop his mouth.

His boyfriend’s eyes widen significantly on the small screen, opens and closes his mouth several times, and there’s definitely a yell from somewhere in the studio, but Poe ignores it completely, “Of course not. Finn, I’m the luckiest guy in the world because of you. I just really… really think we need to time this right.”

“I,” Finn starts, but he’s barely sure where he’s going with the sentence. All he knows is that he’s scared Poe might tell him that all this time meant nothing to him. He doesn’t know why he leaps to that, but he does. His boyfriend might find something better than him in the limelight, “I know. You’ve told me, and I get it, I do. It’s just difficult being so far away from you, and then…”

He feels himself drifting off into a cloud of numbness and nothing, but Poe interrupts the sentence, “I thought you’d be more supportive of my career.” Finn nearly jumps. The words don’t sound cold, per say. But it’s weird. The good old butterflies flutter hesitantly, sort of in question.

“I am, darling, I-” he sighs again, “I’ve always been. You’ve just seemed like you’re ready, and I got the feeling that your agent didn’t want you to, and-” “Phasma wants it.”

“But on Christmas, Poe. This Christmas. I’m just scared you’re…” Finn shakes his head at himself, decides to be completely honest, because that’s how relationships work. Right? “Waiting for the moment to end this.”

“End this?” his boyfriend’s voice raises just an octave, looking perpetually confused. He also, admittedly, looks pissed. Hurt. “Do you want to break up with me?”

“No! Why would I-

“You’re the one who brought it up.”

Finn rubs his eyes, feels like they’re on goddamn fire. Poe’s biting his lips, rummaging around after moving what he assumes is a more private room than before, and avoiding eye contact. They shouldn’t be doing this on the phone. They shouldn’t be doing this at all.

He wishes his boyfriend was next to him, so he could curl up on his chest and sleep the entire weekend. It’s all he wants.

Ultimately, Finn makes the suggestion, “Baby, I’m sorry, I just… why don’t I call you next time you’re free? Or can you… are you getting back anytime soon?”

He doesn’t know how to describe this feeling, what’s happening, in any other way than it seems like Poe’s on a different planet than him, drifting in a meteor rain.

What Finn doesn’t expect least of all is his boyfriend’s answer, “Nah, you know, if you feel like that, we should take a break. A breather.”

And Poe smiles, but he sees through that bullshit. It doesn’t reach his eyes.

He’s trying to play it cool. Fuck. Why are Finn’s eyes stinging, now?

“A break?”

“Yeah.”

That’s so much to process. Fucking process it. The protests are bubbling under his skin, boiling and ice cold at the same time, but he doesn’t get the time when the yells on the end of the world resume.

“I really should go.” Poe tells him, but he doesn’t sound like he wants to.

“Poe…” he tries to breathe around the butterflies currently panicking inside of him. He’d scream at them to stop for just five seconds, if he could. His boyfriend’s already getting up from the seat, which is why Finn pinches the bridge of his nose and tries not to look at him, “Okay. Okay.”

The silence that settles between them, then, until they end the call in confusion and boiled up emotion, is far from the comfort they’ve been accustomed to. It ends without a goodbye. Without an I love you.

So, naturally, he gets absolutely zero sleep that night.

Whenever Rey told them they were being overdramatic, she was probably right. This is no exception.

Ever since the damnation of their FaceTime call, Finn tried to get into his head what went down. Namely, him and his boyfriend speaking over each other’s heads. It settles in the morning, the realisation that Poe assumed the worst of what he said, while he himself didn’t understand why he couldn’t come home . Just one day. Just to talk this out.

But in a recognizable stubborn fashion, his boyfriend ignored his calls and texts for the weekend. Finn tried so, so hard not to get pissed again. But also, Poe actively avoiding him made him want to cry. Not being able to just hear his voice made him want to cry.

Naturally, the following week, when his boyfriend decided to reach out, Finn became the one to ignore all forms of contact. It felt like they were walking in circles.

This is new and raw territory.

Finn and Poe don’t fight. It’s a basic law of the universe.

Which is why he doesn’t blame Rey for widening her eyes in shock at this new development. He also knows that she wants to intervene, badly so, given how protective she is of them, but because she’s lovely she always somehow knows when Finn needs his own space to think. Or scream into the void a little bit, whatever does the trick.

He’s pretty sure she didn’t expect this to go on for four months, now. He sure as hell didn’t expect it.

But… they’re both to blame. Finn’s pretty much dug himself a hole in the ground filling up with all his feelings, and as every week passes by, waits for his boyfriend to make the first move. He expects Poe to do the same. Nothing’s moving forward.

So, if Rey didn’t know him as she did, she’d ask him why.

Why don’t you just call him? He could. When his boyfriend stopped ignoring him, that is. Thing is, Finn’s world is sort of crumbling right now, and a confrontation with that isn’t something he can handle, he thinks.

It’s the thought of losing Poe for good. It’s the thought of Poe thinking Finn doesn’t want him anymore, when in fact he fears the exact opposite.

After watching that interview, though, he could breathe a little easier, he’ll admit.

And it’s weird. He felt inherently about a hundred times worse during it. The day after, he just kept thinking about Poe and his stupid curls and his nervous smile and what he might be doing while Finn was helping his sister with the dishes.

Maybe it’s knowing his boyfriend- ex-boyfriend (?) is okay. Does look more okay than himself.

It calms him. The next day, it makes Finn want to burn up all their polaroids and mail the ashes to the singers’ hotel in a massive envelope. As said before, this hole is deep, too deep, making it difficult to be rational.

A week after the interview, he’s just about on the edge to complete numbness.

Maybe he’s been reading those hilarious dumb gossip magazines whenever his boyfriend was on the cover. Shut up. If he acknowledges the ridiculousness of that, it’ll only make it worse.

Finn feels weak for being this torn up after a breakup… or break. He’s had breakups before Poe, but none of them hurt like this. Does it ever just fucking stop?

Apparently not, because when he picks up the phone with Rey’s name flashing, Finn expects it to be another question of what’s going on. How he’s doing, or not even a question, but an order to let her in as she’s probably already standing in front of his building carrying ice cream and bad horror movies.

He doesn’t get why she doesn’t just use the key he got her already, but it’s still endearing. Except, “Turn on the radio.”

“What?

“Finn, turn on your radio. Trust me.”

And so he scrambles around, the determination in her voice definitely not something to mess around with. Finn eventually uncovers it underneath the mountain of Poe’s vinyl records, and while his best friend doesn’t even tell him what station she’s referring to, he’s got a feeling about it. Also, it’s the first station that pops through the speakers when he turns it on, so.

Then, he has absolutely no idea what to listen for. The hosts are making some jokes about the song they’re gonna play next, thereozing about a “lost love” , and Finn’s about to ask until he realises Rey’s hung up on him, and a text.

just wait. u won’t regret it.

It’s too ominous for his best friend’s usual shenanigans. He’s a little worried.

But unlike the last hellish, unbelievable four months, Finn doesn’t have much time to worry, before the voices announce, “We present an exclusive live performance from our new favorite heartthrob, Poe Dameron!”

Oh God. Oh God, oh shit, oh my god.

Naturally, Finn’s anxiety kicks in like a punch in his gut.

In fact, he’s about to pull up his best friend’s contact again, sick of hearing the single that Poe wrote for him and not even being able to revel in the feeling anymore. Only it’s not ‘cardigan’.

Four months ago, a few days before they decided to take a break, his boyfriend sent him a couple of voice notes, containing lyrics and guitar pieces and other bits for the album he wanted Finn’s approval on. He always wanted his opinion first. It makes him all warm again.

This song, however, is brand new, unheard to everyone’s ears. Including Finn.

“I'm doing good, I'm on some new shit

Been saying "yes" instead of "no"

I thought I saw you at the bus stop, I didn't though

I hit the ground running each night

I hit the Sunday matinée

You know the greatest films of all time were never made”

The melody has the same calm like the other songs he’s heard, an image of fairytales and bare feet dancing in the woods and stars twinkling in the night.

The melancholy is unfamiliar, though.

“I guess you never know, never know

And if you wanted me, you really should've showed

And if you never bleed, you're never gonna grow

And it's alright now”

Finn’s thumb hovers over Rey’s contact name, but he can’t bring himself to move.

It’s the alright part. Except, despite how much he tries to lie to himself, he swears to everything god that his boyfriend’s voice breaks over the word. It’s subtle enough that the interviewers could pass it on as him being hoarse, he reasons, but Poe can’t fool him.

He wants him to be okay. Actually, no, because being okay means not missing Finn like Finn misses him, and that would hurt more than anything he can imagine. But also, he’s too far away for a reassuring hand. That’s why he wants him to be okay.

“But we were something, don't you think so?

Roaring twenties, tossing pennies in the pool

And if my wishes came true

It would've been you”

For some reason, it’s only then it settles into Finn’s mind.

Oh.

The song keeps going, and his emotions keep going, from the chaotic jumbled mess he’s become accustomed to a quiet buzz. He feels like his breathing’s slowed down, and a pocket in his heart is being emptied onto the floor.

Poe feels exactly the same way, he imagines. He has to.

Finn’s abandoned his phone somewhere unknown between the couch cushions, and he’s stuck staring at the empty wine bottle he hasn’t had the energy to get rid of, his microwave dinner half eaten, until his ex-boyfriend’s song comes to an end.

‘the 1’ is the title. He doesn’t know if he’s crying or not, which sounds a bit dumb in his own head.

“Poe Dameron!” one of the interviewers yells obnoxiously, clearly trying to hold in their excited giggling, “Those were quite emotional lyrics. I’m guessing there’s a story there somewhere?”

Finn could roll his eyes into the next century at that comment. Jesus Christ.

The singer’s complained about these kinds of people before, of course, he chuckles, politely, hesitantly, probably spinning the best way to avoid opening that door of vulnerability on open air, “I think everyone writes from their own experience, really.”

His voice has the same elegance and softness and gruff that makes Finn think of home, despite the tinny speakers and distraction that vibes off of him, all the way over in the states. It’s unbelievable.

The interview keeps going in the most standard way possible, a couple more questions Poe subtly circles around (including about dating, obviously), some jokes, and they eventually get to that segment where the listeners can call in and ask their own question to the dreamy man.

Some are boring, some are weird, some are intrusive, some are just teen voices in awe of his relatability and what not, mountains of flattery which his boyfriend is all too shy and starstruck to handle.

Finn bites his lip.

They repeat the number of the radio twice. The programme ends at nine. That means about forty five minutes of fan questions.

He shouldn’t. This is ridiculous. But what if… what?

Poe’s voice somehow carries his hand to fish the phone up again, though, like a strike of magic. And then the tone sounds, one, two, three, and it’s too late to take it back now. Shit.

“You’re live! Can our next lucky listener introduce yourself and your question?”

He tries so hard, desperately so, to swallow around the lump in his throat, seeming impossibly massive. The eerie silence is simply too painful to bear, though, so Finn squeezes his eyes shut hard for two seconds, before forcing the reply out.

“Yes, uh, hi. This is Finn Solo. From Pennsylvania.”

A beat. “Pennsylvania?! Well, honey, that’s actually Poe Dameron’s home state, isn’t it?”

Two beats. The singer clears his throat. “Yeah.” Clearly, he recognizes his voice in an instant. Well, obviously, he’d be shocked if he didn’t. Still, Finn feels like curling up in a ball and hiding from the world. He wonders if Rey’s listening, right now.

The interviewer seems unfazed from Poe’s hesitated answer, or they just choose to ignore it, he supposes. “The floor is yours, Finn. Ask ahead!”

So… how is he supposed to do this, again?

This is the worst idea Finn’s had in his entire life. Seriously. And he accepted Rey’s dare to swing all the way up and around the swingset in fifth grade, he’s well aware of what reckless looks like. This is it.

Still, he’s stuck now. Poe’s listening to him. Kind of forced to.

And against his own better judgement, Finn silences the million overthinking thoughts in his inner ear by simply saying whatever hits him first, “Did you mean what you said? In the song?”

Seconds feel like fucking hours right now.

“Sorry, can you-” one of the hosts start, but he feels moved to continue. “When did you write it?”

It’s low, the feedback of his boyfriend’s microphone can just be made out. He prays that was only comprehensible enough for Poe’s own ears, because Finn could never possibly live with himself if he outed the person he loves most in the world. Seems so, given the interviewer once again asks the singer in confusion.

“What do you say, Poe? Do you need, uh… for him to elaborate?”

“No.” the man says simply, shyness seemingly having faded away in a glimpse. “Finn, I wrote this back in May.”

Four months ago. Same month as their FaceTime call.

“Only a week after our call. Took me five hours. I needed to get every word just right.” Poe says those words so steadily it shocks Finn. His hand feels numb and itchy around the tiny device, and one of the hosts gasps.

“I-” he starts, but has no idea where to go, where to turn. Finn didn’t expect any of this tonight. A deep breath is needed, “Do you mean… you wrote it about me?”

He feels like an absolute idiot for asking, even doubting it, but given the emotional rollercoaster he’s been through up until now, he’s grasping for straws of confirmation. Poe chuckles, barely audible.

“All my songs are about you, darling.”

What the fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck. Another gasp is heard in the studio, a little louder this time, but he sends a silent thanks, still, to them being too taken aback to intervene.

Okay, these are definitely tears in Finn’s eyes, now.

One rolls down, cool against his hot cheek, and he almost wants to laugh widely, processing what’s happening over and over in his brain.

What’s mostly replaying is the nickname that he’s missed… too much.

If they were in the same room, in front of each other, alone , he could say and ask a million things. This conversation is impossibly too vulnerable for open air, but Finn really thinks, really, that this step was needed. At least, it’s something he’s been longing to hear.

Instead of breaking down in the happiness and sadness he’s feeling, instead of talking about the miscommunication they’ve been the victim of, he smiles. Can’t stop. It’s hurting his whole face, actually, but his chest feels endlessly lighter.

“If… uh,” Finn chuckles at himself again, him and his stupid emotions, probably laced obviously in his voice, “Is there a chance that you still want to write songs about me?”

Poe laughs back, warmer and wobblier than before. “Of course. Of-fucking-course. There’s no one else I’d rather write about.”

Those hosts over there are probably freaking out big time, but Finn can’t bring himself to care much.

They sigh rather in unison. Him and his boyfriend. Breathing shaky and yet steadying themselves, almost. Together.

“Okay. Okay. Thank fuck,” he finds himself sniffling, “Okay.”

“They’ll always be about you.”

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revchainsaw · 3 years

Text

Stargate (1994)

Welcome to the Cult Film Tent Revival my freaky fanatics, prepare yourselves to take the sacrament from across the stars, as we engage in the miraculous works of one of our most beloved Cult Saints, Saint Kurt. Coming to us from the golden age of Sci-fi Adventures, when Hollywood would dump the big bucks into a film so out of this world, we are partaking this evening of 1994's Stargate!

The Message

Every child has an Egypt phase. I remember fondly flipping through my DK Eyewitness guide to ancient Egypt with my Anubis warrior action figure from the movie stargate propped up on my desk. This wasn't even school work, Egypt inspired this young freak to learn outside of the classroom, and Stargate inspired me to look to Egypt in the first place. My father was a military man, as mentioned before, and this film irked him to some degree. He hated that the film was slightly critical of firearms, but mostly he hated that it depicted the high security military installation where he worked unrealistically. You know the high security military installation in the side of Cheyenne Mountain. yeah, that one. I don't know why my father expected a bunch of nerds from Hollywood with not security clearance to have any idea what it looked like in that hyper-secure location, but he did. I suspect after they lost him on the guns he was looking for any reason to hate Stargate, and so, impressionable as I was, I thought for years that this movie was really stupid.

Thank the Gods of Cult that I had the inspiration to give this film a second chance. I have to say, it's a little stupid, but it's not REALLY stupid. Also, Disney's Atlantis is totally just animated Stargate, and that's pretty fucked up.

Stargate is the story of how a big old nerd, whos name is NOT Milo, played by James Spader was enlisted by a bunch of military bad guy types to use his crackpot pseudoscience egyptology crap to decipher a bunch of writings that every other scientist or academic was wrong about. When he does this he succesfully creates a Stargate, a bridge between our world and another.

Our other hero is Sergeant Kurt Russell. Russell is sitting around trying to take two and not call his doctor in the morning, just generally being sad about guns because his son accidentally shot himself. Like father like son I guess. Sorry if that sounds cruel, it's just so desperately reaching for pathos and drama that it kind of enters into the realm of parody parody. I may have been raised by gun nuts, but I am very pro depicting guns as dangerous. Stargate is about as subtle as a pie in the face, or a bullet in the face. Ok, I'm done. Anyway, the military has one more mission for Kurt and he decides for some reason that means that guns are good again for killing bad guys, except for later when he decides that guns are bad again.

So Disney's Atlantis and Guile from Street Fighter enter the Stargate and discover a world where illiterate humans are kept in subjugation by a ruling class of aliens who use them to mine precious minerals and demand to be worshipped as Gods. The leader of these aliens is an immortal alien being who has possessed the body of a teen boy pop sensation and goes by the name of Ra.

James Spader is gifted a wife by the locals because it's so quirky that women are property, i guess, but it's okay because they happen to be in love, and with her help he is able to learn the truth behind this worlds condition. Ra had built the Stargate to travel between worlds and was worshipped in Ancient Egypt, however the people got wise to his BS and he had to escape. He took many humans hostage and crossed the stargate and then banned reading and writing as an attempt to quell any kind of uprising, and it's worked for a long time.

Ra is pissed at the earth boys though because he knows a nuclear weapon when he sees one. Turns out Kurt Russell brought a big ol bomb with him across the stargate as a contingency plan for any aggro aliens they may have found. Hey, they found them so I guess it wasn't too bad of an idea. Ra punishes his worshippers by having them mercilessly bombed and Spader and Russell team up with the locals to revolt. They eventually gain the upper hand and Ra attempts to flee with his Pyramid space ship but our heroes teleport the nuke onto his ship and save the day. Thus launching several Sci-Fi television series that I have never watched.

The Benediction

Best Scene: Ra Footage

The Throne Room Scene where we are first introduced to Ra and his godlike warriors is pretty excellent. It's so menacing how he surrounds himself with a force field of children, and the combination of futuristic technology with an ancient Egyptian aesthetic that this film sells itself on is on it's ultimate display in this scene. I really like the villains in this movie and I savor whenever they get to be shown off.

Best effect: Mastadge Ride

The CG on Stargate is better than in Species which sought to be it's competitor a year later, but it is still dated. It's utilized in cool enough ways and sparingly enough that even though it looks cartoony at moments it is very easy to forgive. Being Easy to forgive however, would be a pretty lackluster qualification for best effect and I'm going to have to turn this honor to the practical creature effects for the Mastadge. When we are first introduced to our alien world one the first things we see is the fuzzy maw of one of these creatures, before it takes James Spader for a very harrowing trip across the desert. These alien beasts of burden do sometimes reveal that they are mounted upon horses, but in close ups they just look so good. I love them and I want one.

Worst Scene: It's just sad OK!

Kurt Russell becomes very popular with the young men from the village of Ra's worshippers. They come to see him as some kind of hero and seek to emulate him. However, these people are very peaceful and not in any way battle hardened. A group of the young men stand up to the leaders and seek to aid the Earthlings in their revolution. They are brave but in many ways out classed by Ra's elite guards. Through the sheer force of numbers they do succeed in casting off the shackles of their oppressors but not before one of the young men we've come to care about is tragically blasted all to shit in slow mo. That scene made me cry a ton when I was a kid, and I dreaded waiting for it as an adult. It is worth noting that if you aren't 5 years old a lot of the drama in Stargate is pretty hamfisted and corny. It's a pretty excellent action movie, and a pretty goofy drama.

Coolest looking Villain: Animals as Leaders

I used to think that Ra was really stupid looking, but I was a kid and was biased towards cool warriors with animal heads, but I really have a much better appreciation for the effects and costume design of all of the godly villain crew than I used to. That said, The Anubis guy in particular still holds up. It's the dope Jackal head, the teal of the armor. It's what I picture when I picture Stargate. The Horus guys are also worth a mention with their awesome hawk jets. I couldn't pick a "Best" villain, so I went with the Coolest Looking.

Worst Aspect: Lacking Character

When I have fond thoughts of Stargate, they almost never revolve around the characters, or if they do it's in a juvenile manner. Who had cool armor, who had cool weapons, or who did the coolest thing? I have a hard time caring about these meandering people. They are inconsistent. They have no flaws that they work on or grow from. They are special because the script insists that it's so, and I don't really care if they succeed or fail at any point in the film. It's a shame because we have a good set up, and good lore. If at any point any body acted like a real person I think Stargate would be better remembered as a film than as the weird older sibling of a long running television series.

Summary

I'd like to say that Stargate succeeds at everything it's trying to do, but it doesn't. Stargate fails in the tragedy and pathos it attempts to create within it's characters; but it does succeed in almost every other way. Stargate is an engaging and exciting action movie. Stargate delivers on it's science fiction concept, and provides some fun fantasy lore to round out it's world building. Stargate is also a great looking (at most times) special effects spectacle. For all of those reasons, It is not a great film, but it is pretty darn good film.

Overall Grade: B

#Stargate #Sci-Fi #1994 #90s #Action #Adventure #aliens #egypt #space #Kurt Russell #James Spader #Grade B #B #Grade: B #(B)

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jeongyunhoed · 3 years

Photo

8 Stories, 8 Movies from the Golden Age (1930s to 1960s).

It’s the golden age and 8 men are the most sought-after actors in Hollywood. Ateez, but make them Old Hollywood, basically. Lights, camera, action!

Member: Jongho

Genre: Murder mystery, a little bit of comedy, a little bit of romance

Warnings: Murder (as it is a murder mystery), mentions of it including suicide, death, blackmail

Things to note: Divorce then getting back together, horse racing, set in the 1930s.

Will have OCs

As with the rest of the stories in the AU, there will be other idols mentioned.

A/N: The second story in this entire AU is something I’m super excited about writing, and I hope you’ll enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it! Tag list open as always.

Masterlist

Prominent surgeon Choi Jongho is forced to team up with his murder mystery author ex-wife to investigate a murder at a racetrack.

The Ex-Mrs. Choi

tag list: @minervaaaaaaaa , @closer-stars

Part 1

“Yes, it’s a strange tragedy that took the life of Lee Taeyong today at the Bradford Race Track. Wave and Illusion with Lee Taeyong were neck to neck at the finish. Illusion was already pulling away when suddenly, Taeyong fell off the horse. Doctors immediately rushed to the jockey’s side, but he was already dead. Reports have declared the cause of his death to be heart failure,” the news reporter’s voice from the radio filled the living room of Choi Jongho that night as he sat in his favorite chair by the fire.

That kind of news wasn’t new to him especially as he dealt with bodies almost everyday. Jongho was a surgeon and had his share of examining bodies, much less cutting them open when necessary. He came from a long day made up of one operation after another and all he wanted to do was to sit back on his chair, smoking jacket on, and maybe watch a picture or two before he fell asleep. If he could find his smoking jacket, that is. Jongho sat up when he noticed his butler, Kang Yeosang, appear. “Alright, you can turn it off. Yes?”

“Dr. Jongho, are you in?” He asked.

He raised a brow at the question. “...Yes?”

“I mean,” Yeosang paused. “Physically yes, sir, but socially, are you in?”

“Ah, that’s a good question. If there’s anyone I don’t want to see, tell them I’m not,” He said, sensing the way Yeosang asked him.

“Okay then, I will tell her so at once.”

“Don’t bother, Yeosang!”

A woman’s voice appeared from the hall. It was the voice he hadn’t heard in a while, at least months since the divorce. Jongho stood up when he heard the familiar clinking of heels on the marble floor, seeing the figure of his ex-wife Miyoung become more and more visible. Jongho felt his heart skip a beat at the sight of her. Kim Miyoung, or rather, Choi Miyoung, his ex-wife, looked visibly prettier. If he wasn’t seeing things, he would’ve thought she was glowing even though he figured it was from the months-long trips she would take all over the world. “Hi, Jongho,” She smiled, grabbing him by the hem of his jacket. “Jongho, darling, kiss me” she said, and he found himself obliging for a moment before his mind made any decision.

“Dr. Choi is not in,” Yeosang cut in, looking flustered but defeated.

“Too late for that, Yeosang, it’s okay” Jongho replied, pulling away in an attempt to snap himself out of it.

“Sorry, sir.”

“What brings you here?” He turned back to Miyoung.

“How are you doing? You look tired” She said, patting his cheek gently.

“I don’t need to ask you how you are, given how you look,” Jongho quipped. “I was alright, I thought you were in Beijing. I hope.”

Miyoung beamed. “Oh, I almost forgot, I brought someone with me, bring him inside, Yeosang!” She called out. A moment later, a suited man appeared, looking a little wary. “This is Mr. Park Jisung.”

“How do you do?” Jongho nodded towards him.

“Are you Mr. Choi Jongho?” He asked.

“I am Mr. Choi Jongho.”

“Dr. Choi Jongho?”

“Yes, I’m Dr. Choi Jongho. Aren’t I, Miyoung?”

“Yes, he’s definitely Dr. Choi Jongho.”

Jisung took out a piece of paper from his jacket pocket and handed it to the doctor. “Then Dr. Choi Jongho, I hereby serve you a subpoena, to answer a lawsuit for non-payment of alimony made by Choi Miyoung.”

Jongho nodded as he looked over the document. “A subpoena. Hmm, for a minute I was glad to see you there, Miyoungie-”

“Are you going to throw me out again?” Jisung stepped back.

“Yeosang, show Mr. Park Jisung the door,” Jongho exhaled, eyeing Miyoung as Yeosang showed the lawyer out of the apartment.

“Now, Dr. Choi, are you going to pay me my alimony, or aren’t you?” Miyoung smiled.

Jongho looked down at the piece of paper again and then back at her. “That’s a fair question, and it deserves a fair answer. In a word? No” He tore up the paper.

“Oh yes you are, the judge said so,” She grinned.

“Miyoungie, I’m not one to bring up mundane details about what was once our idyllic relationship, but as far as I know, you already have two-thirds of the money in this entire capital, and you even took my last name while we’re at it,” Jongho pointed out.

“That doesn’t have anything to do with it, it’s a matter of principle, you agreed to pay it and I’m going to make you,” She gently poked his chest. “Even if I have to spend my own money to do it.”

Jongho noticed Yeosang appear again. “Mr. Park Jisung has been shown out, and dinner is ready.”

“Dinner! Oh, that’s so nice of you, Jongho” She removed her coat and placed it on the rack, seeing herself into the dining room.

He sighed, watching her walk to the dining area. “Yeosang, put out an extra plate,” He said.

“Yes, sir.”

“And lock up the rest of the silverware.”

Jongho and Miyoung were sitting in the living room later that night, drinking cups of coffee and tea served by Yeosang by the fireplace. “Oh, dinner was excellent. Yeosang has never disappointed with his cooking,” Miyoung said in between sips.

“Thank you, madam,” He replied, walking off.

“I don’t know when I’ve enjoyed anything more,” Miyoung sat back next to him. “You know I’ve reached a decision over dinner, I’m going to marry you again.”

Jongho nearly spit out his coffee in surprise and he cleared his throat to regain his composure. “That’s the thing I love about you, Miyoungie, you’re so subtle.”

“But I’m doing it for you,” She replied. “You won’t have to pay the alimony if you marry me again,” She batted her eyes at him.

“I think you’re great, I still do, but if we could’ve made a go at it, then I wouldn’t have let you divorce me in the first place,” He pointed out. “But our life together was intolerable.”

“Was it? I thought it was fun,” Miyoung put down her cup.

“Fun? You made a nervous wreck out of me,” Jongho said. “You always had me convinced that my coffee was poisoned, or that my scrambled eggs were always filled with broken glass, and that there are murders all around me!”

“Oh for an intelligent man, Jongho, you’ve got a very narrow mind,” Miyoung nudged him playfully. “I never interfered with your career as a surgeon, and you had no right to interfere with my career as a murder mystery writer.“

“You writing murder mysteries didn’t bother me, it was your insisting on living them that wore me down,” Jongho pointed out. “Do you realize that the last three months we were married, you got me so busy finding clues that I spent more time at the morgue than I did at my office, with more corpses than my patients.”

Miyoung froze in her seat. “Jongho, don’t move,” She whispered.

“I’m not moving.”

“Do you have a gun?”

“What are you talking about?”

“The wall up there behind you, it’s moving” Miyoung tilted her head towards the back. Jongho looked over.

“Control yourself, Miyoung. Yeosang,” He called out, and the face of the butler appeared behind the hole in the wall, where a projector was also in view.

“Yes?”

“Never mind, Yeosang, no movies for tonight, you can put that back.”

“No movies? Very well, sir,” Disappointment was evident in the butler’s tone and the hole in the wall closed up again.

“What is this?” Miyoung looked confused and turned back to her ex-husband.

“All new, had it installed since you moved out. The wall moves a little for the projector,” Jongho replied, gesturing to the blank space above the mantle.

She looked amused. “What did you do? Turn this place into a neighborhood movie theater?”

“Yeosang and I hate having to stand in line for tickets. This is a lot easier,” Jongho replied, putting his now-empty cup down on the table.

Miyoung nodded and sat back. “Oh, right, Jongho, speaking of murders-”

“We weren’t.”

“Speaking of murders,” She repeated. “It was quite a set up, what happened on the race track this afternoon.”

“You mean Lee Taeyong?”

“Yeah, what a melodrama!” Miyoung looked taken aback.

Jongho sat back as well. “It was an unfortunate accident, Miyoungie, not melodrama.”

Miyoung nudged him. “Not melodrama? You’re crazy. It’s too good to be true,” She sat up, turning to face him. “Wave and Illusion neck to neck at the race track. Illusion is the favorite, twelve points in the lead, millions of won riding on his nose and out from the crowd of attendees is a figure with a gun with a silencer attached to it, the shooter pulls the trigger, the jockey falls-”

“My dear ex-wife,” Jongho cut her off. “Illusion wasn’t twelve points in the lead, and there was no fire, the jockey wasn’t shot and the coroner examining him reported heart failure. I don’t see how-”

“Sir?” Yeosang appeared again.

“Yes?” Jongho sat up, Miyoung looking over at the butler as well.

“Mr. Kim Hongjoong is here to see you,” Yeosang replied.

“Hongjoong? What a coincidence,” Jongho raised a brow. “Send him in.”

Yeosang gestured to the man standing by the open door. “Hello, doc,” The man known as Kim Hongjoong stepped inside, making Jongho and Miyoung stand up to greet him.

“Hello Hongjoong, sorry about what happened this afternoon, my condolences,” Jongho said. “Oh, and this is Mrs. Choi,” He introduced Miyoung to him.

“Nice to meet you,” Hongjoong nodded at her, and she did the same. “I didn’t know you were married, Jongho.”

“I’m not.”

“We’re going to be!” Miyoung was beaming.

“No we aren’t,” Jongho eyed her then turned back to the older. “Sit down, sit down,” He gestured for him to sit on the chair and Hongjoong obliged. “Miyoung, Mr. Kim Hongjoong, is the trainer of Illusion,” He explained to her. “He taught Lee Taeyong everything he knew.”

Miyoung looked impressed. “We were just talking about the murder of the jockey this afternoon.”

Hongjoong raised a brow at her. “What do you know about it?”

“He was murdered, wasn’t he?” She asked.

“Yes, he was,” He revealed. Jongho was in disbelief.

Miyoung playfully smacked Jongho’s arm. “See, Jongho? I told you!”

Jongho looked puzzled. “But the reports said it was heart failure, Hongjoong.”

The trainer shook his head. “Doc, you examined Taeyong a little less than two weeks ago, didn’t you say he was healthy?” He said. Jongho nodded. “Was there anything wrong with his heart?”

“No, there wasn’t,” Jongho shook his head. “That’s why I got so confused- Did you go to the police about this?”

“No, this is my job,” Hongjoong replied.

“Mr. Kim, did Taeyong have any enemies?” Miyoung spoke this time. “An organization of spies? What about the mob? Was Taeyong wanted by the mob? Or a loan shark, if you know what I mean?-”

“Miyoungie, can you keep a lid on it?” Jongho said through gritted teeth. He turned back to Hongjoong. “What makes you sure it was murder? Jockeys have fallen off of horses before.”

“Yeah but, Taeyong was already dead before he fell,” He replied.

“How do you know?”

“The guy didn’t have a broken bone in his body when we got to him. You don’t fall limp and relax like that if you’re conscious,” Hongjoong explained. “And I found this note on his locker too after the race,” He took out a piece of paper from his jacket pocket.

“Oh can I see?” Miyoung asked and took the note. “You do as I’ve told you, keep your mouth shut, no one will take your word against mine,” She read out.

“Who wrote this?” Jongho turned back to him.

“I don’t know, but I plan to find out, I want you to examine Taeyong’s body,” Hongjoong sat up.

“I don’t think that’s necessary, the coroner’s the one doing the autopsy-”

“But I want you to examine him, doc,” Hongjoong insisted.

“Of course he’ll do it, Mr. Kim!” Miyoung was excited.

Jongho sighed. “Here we go again,” He side-eyed his ex-wife. “Alright Hongjoong, I’ll examine the guy if it’ll make it easier for you.”

Hongjoong stood up. “Thanks a lot. You keep the note, I’ll do some digging on my own, I’ll meet you back here later,” He looked at his watch and turned to leave.

“Alright, at around 10:30?” Jongho asked.

“Yeah,” Hongjoong waved at them before seeing himself out.

As soon as the door closed, Miyoung was beaming. “This is exciting! I’ll get my coat,” She said.

“Miyoung,” Jongho rolled his eyes. “Miyoungie, we’re not going to the party. We’re not going anywhere, I’m going to the morgue.”

“What a coincidence! That’s where I’m going too, we can go together,” Miyoung kissed his cheek before walking off. Jongho sighed as he watched her. Maybe he should’ve paid the alimony.

Jongho and Miyoung got down from the car that night as they arrived at the building where the morgue was. He told Yeosang to park the car nearby and quickly caught up to his ex-wife, who was already walking ahead. Miyoung linked her arm with his as they walked together. The person in charge met them at the entrance of the building and showed them inside. “This way, Dr. Choi,” They said, leading them down the halls.

Miyoung tugged on her coat for more warmth as she held onto him while they walked. “This doesn’t look at all like the morgue,” She whispered to him.

“Because we’re not in the morgue yet, it’s behind that door,” He pointed out. “Miyoung, can you please go home?”

“No,” Miyoung nudged him.

“Kim Miyoung, this is not the place for you,” He gave her a look.

“Alright, fine, how about this? If I don’t go in there, will you marry me again?” Miyoung countered him.

“No,” He said as they stopped in front of the door.

“Then in we go! Open the door please,” She said to the person in charge, who nodded. As they opened the door to the facility, the sight of bodies on slabs made her fall over and faint.

Jongho caught her in time before she fell completely. He patted her face gently. “Miyoung? Miyoungie? Oh, can I have some assistance? My assistant has just been indisposed, she needs some air,” He said. “If you see my chauffeur Yeosang, tell him to bring her back.”

The person in charge nodded and helped her get to her feet, fanning her face as they left the facility. Jongho noticed the body of the jockey on the first slab, with the coroner, Moon Taeil, standing by and waiting for him. “Dr. Choi, welcome back,” He said. “Rigor mortis has already set in, but I imagine you can still look into it.”

Jongho nodded and removed his coat, putting on the extra set of scrubs and the gloves. He looked over the jockey’s body for any visible signs of another cause of death. “It doesn’t make sense that he’d die of heart failure unless he had an underlying condition. I examined him less than two weeks ago, he was healthy, no problems whatsoever.”

“I’m just as confused as you are, doc,” Taeil replied. “...Did you find anything?” He noticed Jongho look under the jockey’s neck.

Jongho stopped when he saw bits of a soft, clear, substance on the skin. “Wait a minute, can I have a scalpel?”

“Here,” Taeil handed the instrument over.

“There’s something by his neck,” Jongho gently scraped off the substance, making sure to get every trace of it. He held it up. “What do you think this is?”

“I don’t know, maybe chewing gum?”

“It could be,” Jongho nodded. “Can I have a test tube for this? I want to bring this home so I can examine it further.”

“Yes sir,” Taeil walked off to the supply closet.

“Good evening, Dr. Choi,” Yeosang greeted as Jongho arrived later that night.

“Good evening,” Jongho removed his coat and handed it over to the butler along with his hat and cane. He noticed a small brown box by the table near the coat rack. “What’s that?” He asked.

“It’s a package for Mr. Kim Hongjoong, it was delivered an hour ago,” Yeosang replied.

“Hongjoong? Then why was it brought here?” Jongho looked confused, giving the package a once-over.

“I don’t know sir.”

“Alright, I’ll take it, I’ll let him know,” Jongho took the package and padded towards his room.

“Wait, sir, sir, I have to tell you something-” Yeosang called out when the phone suddenly rang.

Jongho stopped to pick up the phone, reading what was written on the package. “Hello?” He said.

“Hello doc? This is Kim Hongjoong,” He said on the other line.

“Oh! Oh, Hongjoong-”

“Jongho, did a package arrive for me?” Hongjoong sounded rushed.

“Uh yes, yes-”

“Keep it for me. I’ll be there in five minutes, I found something very valuable,” and he hung up.

“Dr. Choi! Dr. Choi! I have to tell you-” Yeosang called out.

Jongho put the phone down, reading the package again. “Later, Yeosang! I’m going to be in my office-”

“Hello honey!” Miyoung’s voice suddenly filled the room, making him stop and freeze. She soon appeared, followed by several lobby boys carrying trunks.

Jongho looked puzzled. “Miyoung? What’s all this luggage doing here?” He watched her tip the lobby boys before they left the apartment, closing the door behind them and catching Yeosang off guard.

“That’s what I was trying to tell you, sir,” Yeosang quipped.

“Miyoung? What is this? What is all this?” Jongho realized that it wasn’t just trunks that were now laid out by the main hall. He noticed some familiar-looking decorations. “What are those doing here?”

“Oh, didn’t I tell you? I’m moving in,” She said.

“You-” Jongho gaped at her. “Miyoung, this is absurd. Then this means that I’ll have to move out.”

“You won’t do anything of the sort,” Miyoung waved a hand dismissively. “You’re my bread and butter Jongho, by marriage or by alimony, and the only way you’re any good to me is if you’re alive. You’ve now got yourself mixed up in a murder case and against my advice, and it won’t be surprising if you got bumped off unless I’m here with you.”

Jongho glared at her. “Miyoung, you’re a menace to civilization.”

“I’m very serious,” She pointed out. “You’ve now got to be careful more than ever. Don’t eat anything unless you had it tested, don’t open the door, and most importantly? Never go anywhere on your own, not that you’ve got a chance.”

“I can see that, alright,” Jongho said. The phone rang again and he picked it up. “Hello?” He answered.

“Hello, Dr. Choi?” An unfamiliar voice was on the other line.

“Yes?”

“This is Kim Hongjoong, doc.”

Jongho paused. Miyoung eyed him, quietly prodding him to tell her what was going on. “Hongjoong?”

“Did a package arrive for me?”

He was confused. He was still holding the package. “You just-”

“Well?”

“Yes, yes, it came,” Jongho replied.

“Look, I’m in trouble and I need help,” The voice said. “Can you come over to the cigar store between Aurora and Horizon? I’ll be waiting for you.”

“Yeah, sure, Hongjoong,” He said.

“Bring the package along with you.”

“Okay Hongjoong, goodbye Hongjoong,” Jongho hung up, still looking confused.

“So I guess that was Hongjoong,” Miyoung said.

“That’s where you’re wrong, my darling,” Jongho said. “That wasn’t Hongjoong, that was someone pretending to be Hongjoong.”

Miyoung gaped at him. “What did he say?”

“He wanted me to meet him with this package,” Jongho held up the box and Miyoung took it from him.

“Let me see,” She tried to open it but Jongho tried to hold her back. “Let me be, can you please let go? I want to see what’s in it-”

“Miyoungie, you shouldn’t-” He stopped when the package tore open.

She stared at the wad of bills that fell out. “Jongho, it’s money!” She said, bending down to pick up the other bundles of bills.”

“Money?”

“Yes, look,” She showed him the bills.

“Sixty, seventy, eighty,” Jongho paused as he counted everything. “One hundred million won.”

“And you were just going to go ahead and let yourself get bumped off with a fake Kim Hongjoong, it’s a good thing I was here to stop you,” She said.

“Yes, apparently.”

#kdiner #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez scenarios #jongho #choi jongho #ateez jongho

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shlabam · 4 years

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TOP TEN COMICS BOOK VILLAINS WE PROBABLY WON’T SEE IN THE MOVIES

Superhero media is the hottest thing going right now. It was true ten years ago when the MCU was in its adolescence, and it’s even truer now. Even with film production on lockdown, Marvel and DC are still planning on literally dozens of their characters entering their respective cinematic universes. However, for the fans of the source material, things can be contentious. For every memorable Tony Stark quip, there’s Superman destroying an entire city because he’s, frankly, kind of dumb now. A major point of contention is how the various popular villains are utilized. Making an intimidating and potent villain in a comic book is very different than in a film. In comics, you have months to establish motive, powers, and backstory before the villain even makes their first move. In films, that all has to be compressed and spilled out in the scarce few minutes when Captain America and Bucky aren’t making bambi eyes at each other. To be concise, some villains adapt perfectly, and some, no matter how good they are in the comics, just don’t. And to be clear, this list is of popular villains who have the possibility of appearing in a big-budget film, so no, you won’t be seeing Ten Eyed Man or Big Wheel in there. Their powers are, respectively, having ten eyes, and being very good in business. (That’s a lie, he’s just a huge wheel who chases Spider-Man.)

10: Mr. Mxyzptlk:

Cool, let’s get this one out of the way. Despite being one of Superman’s oldest, longest-lasting, and most popular enemies from all the way back in the Golden Age, there’s no way in hell he will be in a movie. For the uninformed. Mr. Mxyzptlk is a 5th dimensional wizard-genie who appears every ninety days to torment Superman with his reality-altering antics, and can only be sent back to his home dimension if Superman tricks him into saying his own name backwards. Yes, it would be very dazzling, as Mr. Mxyzptlk’s powers in a movie would basically look like if Christopher Nolan directed Who Framed Roger Rabbit, but he’s a little too silly to fit in with the current “everything is gloomy and also a bummer” tone of the Superman films. This silly tone has lent itself perfectly to the Supergirl series, where he’s made a handful of appearances. Besides, if we get Mxyzptlk in a Superman movie before Brainiac, I’ll lose my entire freaking mind.

9: Hobgoblin:

There have been eight Spider-Man movies so far, and of those eight, four of them have, in some capacity, featured the Green Goblin. And that makes sense, right? The Green Goblin is easily Spider-Man’s most memorable and reoccurring nemesis, with Doctor Octopus and Venom close behind, and Peter Parker’s link with Norman and Harry Osbourn makes their tragic story perfect for film adaptation. On the other hand, we have the Hobgoblin, who is essentially Green Goblin with all the gimmicks, none of the Parker-adjacent backstory, and an orange and blue color scheme, likely tying him to the Denver Broncos [citation needed]. Still, in those four cinematic attempts at tackling the Goblin, none of them have quite gotten him right, and I can’t imagine this character, who is, even in canon, an intentional Green Goblin rip-off, would fare any better.

8: Starro:

Brave and the Bold #28 from 1960 featured the first story with the Justice League, and this story put them up against a very unique new villain: Starro the Conqueror, a giant telepathic starfish who can release tiny versions of himself. If these tiny starfish latch onto your head, you’re under his control and obey his commands. The Justice League have battled him fairly regularly over the last fifty years, and he’s a distinct and powerful enemy that the fans generally appreciate, leading to him being referenced occasionally in Smallville, Arrow, and Flash. Why won’t he ever be in a movie? Because if you’re a Hollywood producer, you stopped paying attention at “giant telepathic starfish”. Sorry. Maybe Shuma-Gorath will pop up in the next Doctor Strange movie, and he’ll set off a Twilight-esque wave of starfish monster movies! Then again, almost absolutely not.

7: Puppet Master:

Speaking of mind control, what’s scarier than that? For my money, nothing. Having your body and will taken away from you by an unseen force is a terror greater than death. How could you possibly make a villain based around such a chilling concept and have him not be scary? Well, maybe if it’s an old bald man in an apron playing with dolls. The Puppet Master is an ongoing threat for the Fantastic Four who is just that: he makes models of his foes out of radioactive clay, and makes them punch themselves and dance around and kiss each other, because he’s, y’know, a weird old man. Why is he such a consistent threat who hasn’t fallen into obscurity like other dumb gimmick-based villains? His stepdaughter, Alicia Masters, is the Thing’s longtime girlfriend. As long as she keeps appearing in movies (including being played by… Kerry Washington? That can’t be right), there’s always a chance he’ll pop up, but I don’t think any movie studio is that stupid, despite the quality of every Fantastic Four movie blatantly defying that prediction.

6: Bizarro:

Superman has always suffered in the villains department. When you’re essentially a god, what can they throw at you? As it turns out, Lex Luthor, almost always. But why not another Superman? Bizarro is essentially that, an imperfect clone of Superman who speaks in opposite speak - “Bizarro am good! Me not punch you until you live!” - and features the same abilities as the Man of Steel. Sounds great, right? Putting a hero against a villain with their same powers has worked for nearly every Marvel movie (shots fired). So why won’t we see him grace our silver screens any time soon? Because they’ve never really figured him out. Is he funny? Is he lethal? Does Kryptonite work on him? If he does everything the opposite of Superman, why does he wear clothes? Isn’t being naked the opposite of being clothed? Bizarro is a major Superman side-character and has made appearances in Smallville and Supergirl, but the idea of him being the Big Bad going toe-to-toe with Henry Cavill doesn’t sound like it would generate a lot of views.

5: Impossible Man:

You remember what I said about Mr. Mxyzptlk? Remember? So take that bit, but everywhere I say Superman, have it say Fantastic Four instead… yeah, that should do it.

4: The Wrecking Crew:

Thor has a unique quirk of having a very cinematic rogues gallery. Sure, most of the movies have pitted him against Loki, but if they were to run him up against the Enchantress, or the Absorbing Man, or Ulik the Troll, or Kurse, or even the Stone Men from Saturn, that’s not a bad movie! However, in one of the attempts to give Thor more of a mortal nemesis, they put him up against the Wrecker, who has an… enchanted… indestructible… crowbar. Yeah. Incredibly, the Wrecker and his Wrecking Crew have become very present characters throughout the Marvel Universe, essentially serving as “jobbers”, being rolled out to get beaten up by the new top hero or villain, but that may not work in a movie, where villains have to be seen as having some level of potency before being struck down. That means we’d need at least a short scene where it seems like Thor might lose to a guy whose power is “crowbar”, and that’s about as likely as an Edward Norton cameo in the next Avengers. Ho boy, they did NOT part on good terms!

3: Clayface:

When the movie-going public goes to see a Batman movie, they generally want something a bit more grounded than your typical superhero fare. After all, Batman has no powers, and therefore the most supernatural thing that should happen in these movies is a gas that makes you smile, or a different gas that makes you think your dead parents are back and disappointed in you. Might wanna put a mouth covering on that mask, Bruce! The one and only they’ve made a movie where Batman fights people with real, off-the-wall super powers (Batman and Robin), it did not go great. And those guys pale in comparison to Clayface, who is, yes, made of clay. In the comics and cartoons, Clayface looks awesome, turning his limbs into weapons and being very challenging to incapacitate, but in a live-action, realistic Batman adventure, we wouldn’t want to see the Dark Knight fight a poop-colored version of the T-1000, especially if it’s got the same chemical composition of a little dreidel that I made.

2: Red Hood:

A relative newcomer to the Batman universe, Red Hood is the revived body of Jason Todd, the second Robin, who was brutally killed by the Joker in one of the most controversial storylines DC Comics ever produced. Literally, fans called a 900 number to tell the writers to kill him off. A 900 number. That’s how much they hated the little turd. Anyway, Jason Todd, whom Batman and the rest of the world believed was dead, was revived by Ra’s al Ghul and became a ruthless villain. Since then, he’s gravitated more to the side of the hero, though one a bit more willing to spill blood than his mentors. Why won’t we see him in the darker, edgier Batman films? Because… that’s Bucky. It’s the same thing that happened in Captain America: The Winter Soldier. Teen sidekick killed in controversial manner, revived by super villain to be a thorn in said hero’s side, later changes his mind and becomes a good guy again, though with enough PTSD to fill a PTSD super store. The two storylines even occurred in the comics in the same year, 2005, to much fanfare and across-the-board declarations of one company ripping off the other, reminding the world of the great Aquaman-Namor debates of the 1940s. Considering that DC’s films have criminally underperformed compared to Marvel’s, the last thing they want to do is be accused of lazy plagiarism, so Jason Todd will likely remain a permanent fixture in the afterlife, hanging out with Batman’s parents and, at the rate that people are coming back from the dead, literally no one else. (Plus, if they can’t even get Robin right, how are they gonna do this?)

1: Mister Sinister:

Yes, he was teased at the end of X-Men Apocalypse, but ignoring that the film underperformed both critically and commercially, Mister Sinister is never going to be in a movie. It would make sense for him to appear, though, right? He’s one of the most present and potent X-Men villains, he’s played crucial roles in many memorable storylines, he’s got a sick cape, but… something a lot of comic book fans tend to overlook is his murky backstory, powers, and motivations. He was a biologist in Victorian London who did genetic experiments on homeless people in the hopes of finding clues about the oncoming threat of mutants. In this time, he unearthed the long-dormant En Sabah Nur, whom you plebeians may know as Apocalypse, and Apocalypse gifted him with great abilities. What abilities you ask? HA HA, good question! At various times, Sinister has displayed: telepathy, telekinesis, energy projection, shape-shifting, regeneration, and teleportation, but these powers will mysteriously disappear whenever they want him to get sliced up real good by Wolverine. Additionally, it has never been made very clear what Sinister wants. Does he seek perfect mastery of the human genome? Does he live to torment Cyclops? Is he a blind follower of Apocalypse? Is he just running through all the different kinds of goatee? Of course, in adaptation, the writers would pick and choose the aspects they’d want to use, but I doubt they’d want to untangle the Christmas lights mess that is Mister Sinister, especially when they’ve got a perfectly good villain whose power is just “magnets”.

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365days365movies · 3 years

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March 8, 2021: The Thief of Bagdad (Review)

FREE!!! FREE!!! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!

Y’know, I forgot to mention my soft spot for genies at the head of this review, but I may as well do that now. Alongside Aladdin and that one Christina Aguilera song that was EVERYWHERE at some point in my childhood, my mom stepped in once again with one of her favorite childhood shows, the theme song of which is running through my head before I even type its name.

Like Bewitched, the 1960s sitcom I Dream of Jeannie was a massive hit at the time, and is still a remnant of the classic era of sitcoms, during that weird time period in the ‘60s when magic and the supernatural found its way into television. For the record, I’ll really have to bring up The Addams Family one of these days, because that was ANOTHER one.

Anyway, this movie definitely gave an interesting version of your classic genie, because OH BOY, I really like Rex Ingram’s take as a more violent and genuinely kind of evil Djinn, which is fitting with a lot of myths and legends about Djinn. They’re monkey’s-paw-mischievous, and they’re not to be trifled with.

Also, I meant what I said about wanting a One Thousand and One Nights cinematic universe, because that would be SIIIIIIICK. I mean that, it’d be awesome, and I’m here for it. Apparently, Harryhausen made a Sinbad movie, so it’s not unheard of! Just saying, it should happen.

But enough of all that! What did I think of this movie as a whole? Well, if you’d like to check out the Recap first, it’s here and here. Be my guest! As for the Review, keep reading!

Review

Cast and Acting: 8/10

Honestly, outside of the stereotypical over-acting of the decade, I actually have no issues with the acting! Sabu is great, Rex Ingram is a lot of fuckin’ fun, John Justin and June Duprez weren’t bad, and Conrad Veidt was actually quite the interesting villain! So, why isn’t this a 10/10? Well...it’s for an ENTIRELY UNFAIR REASON, giving the time period, but...yeah, it’s real weird to have nearly all of these by white actors. I KNOW, I KNOW, it literally couldn’t be helped, but...guuuuuh, it was SO distracting for the entire film, and I couldn’t get over it at any point. Extremely unfair, I know. And I know that Sabu was actually Indian, which is considerably too far east, but...I mean, at least they made an attempt. Same for Rex, who was African-American. And, uh...yeah...he did technically play a slave...so, there’s that. BUT THAT’S MOSTLY BESIDE THE POINT. I won’t demonize this movie for being a product of its times; I think that’s a problem that we have with media.

...Although, to be honest, I do genuinely hate Gone with the Wind, so I might be playing the role of the hypocrite there.

Plot and Writing: 9/10

Eh, maybe the temple stuff was filler, but it was still neat. And otherwise, I think the plot was pretty tight, to be honest. Same goes for the writing, even though it’s a bit corny sometimes. But, hey, it’s the time period when the film was made, and I don’t decry The Wizard of Oz for that, so I’ll extend the same courtesy to this one. The writers are Lajos Bíró and Miles Malleson, the latter of whom played the Sultan who loved toys! Neat!

Directing and Cinematography: 10/10

Lot of close shots in this one, which is a hallmark of the Golden Age of Hollywood and cinema. The direction here was primarily done by three guys: Michael Powell, Ludwig Berger and Tim Whelan. And while Berger and Whelan made a good number of films in their career, Powell would become the most prolific, making Black Narcissus, The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp, and Peeping Tom, to name a few of his more well-known films. Anyway, the direction in this film is...I mean, it’s genuinely great. Seriously, it’s actually pretty brilliant sometimes.

Production and Art Design: 9/10

And goddamn, SPEAKING of brilliant, this production design is TOP GODDAMN NOTCH. It’s honestly, a gorgeous film, from the color to the sets, from the costumes to that one automaton that I ended up putting as the GIF up above, this is some iconic design. The only reason it isn’t a 10 is because some of the costume and makeup design was mildly inconsistent, SPECIFICALLY in terms of the Djinn. Yeah, I couldn’t tell if he was or wasn’t supposed to be blue, and his makeup wasn’t fantastic. Also, there’s a point when Abu’s hanging on to a COMPLETELY fake ear, but...eh, that’s fine. Anyway, I do really love this movie’s style. Also, GODDAMN, the effects! But I’ll save that for...

Music and Editing: 9/10

YEAAAAAAAAAAH BABY! For 1940, the effects in this film are absolutely FANTASTIC. Like, look at that, man! Not gonna lie, I’m not entirely sure how they even DID that shot, and it’s been EIGHTY-ONE YEARS!!! I really like the effects of this movie. Editing by Charles Crichton is also pretty great, although there’s some weird choices made here and there (the first meeting of Ahmad and the Princess comes to mind). As for the music, Miklós Rózsa fills the soundtrack with what may be stereotypical Middle-Eastern music, but still iconic. You can directly hear the inspiration for Aladdin’s soundtrack all throughout this film (which is mildly distracting, not gonna lie).

90%. Hell yeah, it’s a classic.

This was great! A movie that I’ll recommend to people who like Aladdin, and are looking for more of the same type of story. This one really was a diamond in the rough.

...That was a RIDICULOUSLY corny line, my sincere apologies, goddamn.

OK, so, anyway, what’s next? The Thief of Bagdad was a British movie, so let’s stay in Europe for a bit. How about, I dunno...France?

March 9, 2021: Orpheus (1950)

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h-e-l-l-b-r-o-k-e · 4 years

Text

State of Mind [B.H. x you]

Request: @lemonypink

Inspiration: Rock Me by Great White

Word Count: 2253 Warnings: profanity.

Written Date: 12/27/19-1/1/20 Posted Date: 1/1/2020

[MASTERLIST]

Dating Billy was like dating one of the many attractive rockstars plastered on the pale walls of your bedroom, except only with slightly less screeching girls and more bloody knuckles. Billy hated when other men, many who are older, would try to propose to you some sort of midnight deal involving money and their hotel rooms and you hated when girls would reach up and twirl bits of his hair or rub the lapels of his jean jacket with their fingers every time you left to get more booze or for a quick bathroom break.

This was the Sunset Strip, Hollywood’s most popular spot for metal musicians and whores with fishnets that run up the expanse of their thighs, and it was a dangerous combo when the two of you were thrown into the mix. Yet, it was a drug that provided cheap thrills, and you and Billy were just teenagers without a whole lot of money lining your pockets. This was your amusement park. This was where parts of your D.N.A laid to rest. Billy’s too.

They say one loses fifty to about a hundred strands a day and you cannot imagine any other area in Los Angeles, other than your home, that’s collected all 54,750 of your fallen hair since the age of fifteen. No other area’s collected your fingerprints as much or your littered cigarettes. No other venue outside of the Whisky A Go-Go have you and Billy carried out most of your sloppy quickies in the public restroom—usually because Billy dragged you after a guitarist or singer couldn’t keep their eyes off you.

Billy’s jealousy has gotten you guys into more trouble than sometimes it’s worth. You’ve gotten kicked out of clubs for smashing beer bottles against the wall just centimeters away from his target, a musician’s most precious asset—his pouty face. You were surprised that you could count all scuffles Billy’s gotten himself into with band members, some from bands you actually enjoyed watching, on one hand.

You still haven’t forgiven him for banning the two of you from ever attending an L.A. Guns gig again.

“This place blows.” Billy slams his glass on the counter in a huff and the bartender gives him a pointed look before shaking his head to himself.

His attitude tonight was wearing down your placid features faster than a clock counted minutes. And, he’s hardly glanced in your direction to at least make it easier for you to hear him among all the other noise that penetrated your ear drums.

He slid off the stool and doesn’t apologize when his shoulder shoved into your chin. Sometimes you swore you could wrap your hands around his throat and strangle him.

All the trouble with security and other patrons you both been in hadn’t just been because of his loose tongue and quick fists. No, you were pretty sure you’ve been in more altercations that involved a split lip or black eye than he had. There were too many bimbos that rubbed you the wrong way and too many guys who thought they had a free pass to grope you just because you sometimes wore mini skirts and low-cut tops.

You knew Billy’s itching mood meant you had to turn down alcohol and provide the role of babysitter because if you didn’t, he’d do something that even he’d regret. But, you’ve never been one with much patience. It’s why you hardly knew the three-year-old stranger who lived under your parents’ roof and called you “sissy” in passing. You didn’t feel all that bad for the cold shoulder she often received, your mother and step-father provided plenty of warmth. They preferred her over you anyway.

“Wait up, jerk!” You called after your boyfriend, though he didn’t slow down. You weren’t doubtful that it was due to him ignoring you over simply just not hearing you.

The effort in teasing your hair and painting your face to near perfection had gone to waste so far, but you didn’t mind. The ever prideful girl in a leather skirt and jean jacket, though that alone couldn’t define you.

The bartender’s glare was glued to you, waiting for the payment of Billy’s whiskey glasses. You searched through your pockets, only finding a couple loose bills and some change of mostly pennies you knew wasn’t not nearly enough to cover the tap. You set it on the counter and chased after Billy’s direction before you could be flagged. Luckily some drunk was hassling the bartender for another serving and you caught the wisps of Billy’s dirty-blond locks leaving through the back exit.

Barging through the door, you found Billy already sucking on a Marlboro—your Marlboro.

You marched through the dirty alley. “Hey, stupid, I could’ve gotten arrested back there! I haven’t any money on me you know!” Just inches away from him, you continued, “He knows my freakin’ face.”

“Tough luck.” The smoke harbored in his mouth was blown into your face.

You swiped at him, knocking his, well, your cigarette on the ground. “I’m so sick of your pointless attitude, Billy. Grow up!”

With a flared nose, Billy scoffed, “Everything’s fuckin’ pointless, babe. Don’t you get it?” The point of his burning finger touched the chilled skin of your chest, pushing you. “You’re pointless.”

“No,” you shook your head, “you don’t mean that.” Focusing on the golden pendant that’s hung around his neck, you could feel the suffocating heat of his blue irises. “Two years can’t just go by and not mean anything,” you mumbled.

“Yeah? Well, it did!” A bit of his spit landed on your cheek as he puffed a breath down your face.

You knew this act almost too well. Billy may be the biggest asshole who ever lived, though you knew you stood in a place well below a pedestal to look down upon him, but whenever this sudden bout of anger was directed at you, you knew it was displaced. Billy had a fishermen’s nest worth of loathing in the pit of his stomach, directed at his father and things that couldn’t be undone from the past.

You’ve spent about 730 days together so far. You weren’t just some cheap date nor an easy lay. Billy’s shown you too much—given you more—to be able to take it back straight out of the blue. Damaged goods. That’s what the two of you were, and he found comfort in the thought that he wasn’t alone.

But, even when your brain knew better, your heart found it difficult to differentiate truth from impulse. And right now, the beating beneath your breast bone was thumping a very low, and foreboding note.

You tongued at the rim of your upper back molar, a nervous habit since preschool, before stating, “I don’t believe you.”

“Just get out of here!” Billy pointed at the dark street as if you hadn’t rode here as his passenger for the millionth time. “Find your own way home.”

“The hell I’m not,” you ground between your teeth. Your palms met his chest a couple times before he snatched your wrists.

But, when you glanced up at him, his face was turned into the deeper end of the alleyway. It’s almost too dark to see, but when you squinted you made out the shape of a figure, presumably a guy. And upon closer inspection, you noticed he was about your age. Maybe younger if going by the pudginess of his cheeks. You’d never seen him around before.

“Hey, asshole, what are you staring at?!” Billy’s voice rang in your ear like the beating of heavy church bells, or worse, thunder.

The lone boy looked stuck in a crossfire, and immediately you knew he was in fact younger by a few years based on the softness of his eyes despite the glow of a cigarette between two fingers. Hell, even at fourteen you’d been smoking for at least a year.

His knee jittered, ready to bounce if Billy proved too big of a menace, but he stood at a dead end. He had no where to go.

“Billy,” you warned, but Billy had already succumbed to the role of a predator. Tense muscle pulled out of your grasp as he stalked towards the wide-eyed deer. “Billy!”

“That’s it! I’m outta here!” But, this was what he wanted. If he couldn’t shoo you away like a pigeon picking at crumbs on a sidewalk, he’d ignore you like a lone cat skittering in the neighborhood.

Making up your mind about hailing a cab and then raiding your step-father’s study to pay for the ride, you’re about to reach the sidewalk when suddenly your blood ran cold. You could recognize the clinking of the sheathing of a pocketknife, you’ve carried the same one you found just hours before the first day of fourth grade on you since. Right now, it fit snug inside your leather boot and it bumped against your ankle with every step.

Which meant Billy somehow hadn’t slipped your knife in his pocket.

Yelping, Billy fell against the bricks and slid down until he reached the littered ground of smokes and shards of glass. The boy had already been running away by the time you’d turned to watch, shoving past you with sweat beads above his brow. Some of the glint of the metal in his hand was obstructed by a thick, red consistency and the steady thumping in your chest stuttered.

Running after the boy was a lost cause, especially since the streets tended to be busier at night than in the daylight. Yet, by the time you knelt beside your fallen boyfriend, his breath released in puffs and the tear of his white T-shirt across his abdomen contained stained blots. The skin beneath raw and wet, but not deep at all.

“Oh, thank God,” the breath swooshed out of your lungs, “It’s just a nick, Billy.”

“Fuck,” he chuckled as he inspected the cut. “Way to go world, just kick me when I’m already down!”

Your shaped eyebrows knitted together. “Jesus, have you gone mad? You just got shanked and you’re laughing?!” Your hand hovered just inches away from his wound. “What should we do?”

While you’d been too worried, the pads of his fingers grazed the slice. He winced. “Tonight, I was supposed to be some pissy prick, not escape death from the hands of some scrawny freak.”

“Does—Does it hurt?!”

“It’s not that bad, actually.” Yet, he grunted, “Little fucker,” under his breath as he got to his feet. You followed his lead, still shaken. “It just stings mostly. I’m more worried about the questions someone might ask when they see this,” he gestured to the gash of his ruined shirt, ”but we gotta clean it, babe.”

“We?” Arms crossed beneath your chest, you remembered the things he’d said just moments ago. “Don’t pretend you didn’t just tell me that I’m pointless! Clean it yourself.”

“Hey. Hey,” Billy reached for your arms, gently uncrossing them until your hands were enveloped in his. Somehow even when it was just above fifty degrees, Billy’s body was a furnace that radiated heat. You think it was the anger he could never quite let go of. “I didn’t mean any of it.”

You sheepishly glanced towards the side with puckered lips before you spoke. “You sure you didn’t mean it?”

“Never mean it.” He kissed at your hairline before pulling away.

“Then, why were you being so mean?” you questioned him, still a little insulted.

He sighed and brought you into his side, almost forgetting about the tenderness of his stomach but your were mindful. You knew this trick of his, tucking your head under his chin to hide the plain emotions he failed to bar behind a careless façade.

“Because of my dad… He—uh,“ his adam’s apple bobbed against your temple. “We’re leaving. He’s moving us to Indiana.”

Just when you thought tonight couldn’t get any worse, Billy dropped a bomb on your head.

A/N: You wanted chaotic and I couldn’t think of a more perfect place than 80’s Sunset Strip. Sorry it’s not 100% what you wanted, the story just seemed to go in this direction.

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things imagines #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things 2 #st #st imagines #st imagine #billy hargrove x y/n #reader insert #imagine #fanfiction #dacre montgomery

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ashley-slashley · 4 years

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butch hartman be like, yeah guardians don’t look into movie ratings and possibly harmful content in a film before showing it to your family. dude, whatever not g or pg rated film my parents allowed my brother and i to watch, they made sure there wasn’t anything nsfw in it. yo, my parents allowed my brother to watch the patriot, rated r btw, as a toddler since it’s a historical film that didn’t go out of its way to be an absolute bloodbath. then again, being set in the 1770s, there obviously wasn’t going to be graphic depictions of war like in hamburger hill or this one obscure ukranian world war ii film from 1984. obviously not all parents put on just historical films for their kids, my parents also allowed my brother and i to watch mel brooks, monty python, rowan atkinson, the marx brothers, laurel and hardy, the three stooges, and i think like one or two national lampoon vacation movies. dude, are you not aware of the suggestive jokes in mel brooks and monty python films? the title of mel brooks’ star wars parody is a freudian slip for fuck’s sake, there’s even a few sexual innuendos in it. wait a second, there’s a Lot of “family” films that have adult jokes in them - like shrek, you pathetic donkey! it’s not just sex jokes that butch is terrified of, the main premise of slapstick seen in the marx brothers, laurel and hardy, and the three stooges is beating the crap out of one another. i mean, yeah, none of those have someone ending up bloodied and absolutely wrecked, but it’s still violence. hell, in classical rome folks people went to see people get burtally killed. i mean, further in history, people went to see a person get killed by stonings, crucifixon, being burnt alive, hangings, and other brutal methods of ridding someone for entertainment. entertainment hasn’t always been pure and virginal, butch, you ever heard of not only violent forms of entertainment but also sexual forms of entertainment? sex scenes have Always been in movies, they weren’t always softcore porn - i’d say up until the 1970s, when a director wanted to depict sex in the story, they’d just have the camera fade to black on the couple. hell, even scandalous and revealing outfits have always been in mainstream entertainment. just to not only flex on you, but also educate the other folks who read this, here’s some scandalous outfits worn by starlets and ladies from the golden age of hollywood

- joesphine baker

- olga baclanova in freaks! (1932)

- marilyn monroe and jane russell in gentlemen prefer blondes (1953)

- jane russell in gentlemen prefer blondes (1953)

- actual ziegfeld girls from the 1920s

see, women being comfortable in their body and flexing on those normies have Always been a thing. you’re probably wondering how audiences weren’t going apeshit over these costume designs seen in freaks and gentlemen prefer blondes, there’s a thing called an illusion neckline. essentially, the neckline in a dress is cut to show cleavage for sex appeal, but showing lines will make the censors go postal. what costume makers did was sew in a panel of fabric that matched the person’s skin tone where the cleavage would be to still be modest. same goes with ankle bracelets - those also Really made people uncomfy and enraged (i only know that because of the movie love in the afternoon). see, media has Never been 1000000000000000000% squeaky clean. yo butch, your favorite manga, the bible is also violent and not very groovy. you got david yeeting a boulder at goliath and murdering him, david being a thot with that one woman, samson going postal and tearing down a temple while also killing people because his crush’s folks hate him, moses asking god to essentially torture the egyptians until they emancipate the hebrews/jews, god factory resetting earth because people won’t stop fucking up, rahab the prostitute spreading god’s word, and other stuff that i can’t think of off the top of my head. see, entertainment wasn’t always pure and holy, even the bible isn’t squeaky clean. just to flex on you even more, the concept of fairies and magic are technically heretical towards traditional christian values, ergo the fairly odd parents and danny phantom are absolute heresy that would have you executed by the catholics. your self-insert in the fairly odd parents, rip studwell? first off, his name is a freudian slip, secondly, anatomy and general science was heretical (leonardo davinci had to get permission to essentially perform autopsies and learn about anatomy). also, the concept of someone going into the spirit realm and fucking up some demon bois wasn’t invented in doom (1993), my boi dante alighieri created the concept of a dude being yeetened into hell and escaping in 1320. dude, you wouldn’t have danny phantom if it weren’t for another guy flexing on the catholic church by writing heresy. if you want to make some wholesome jesus dollars, go to making extremely low quality dollar bin christian movies that push the “REPENT AND CONVERT TO CHRISTIANITY OR ELSE YOU’RE A NORMIE LOSER” message most christian movies have.

butch, if you’re reading this, fight me

#the shitposter speaks

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givemequeen · 4 years

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just fuck ; george x reader

i love this photo^ request: Christmas prompt 5 Hehehehe and Sorry, i meant 19. dialogue + 5 prompt with George and 2 prompt with George or Ringo Sorry rest of the boys 😅💖💕💗 prompt; 5: You say you hate one of the boys, after a Christmas party or a small gathering you have to stay the night for being a little drunk. And you spend the night with them. dialogue; 19: "Will you two shut up already! Just fuck so you can get on with your lives! a/n: i’ll do the 2 prompt later x pairing: george x reader summary: after a party on the 24th you end up drunk and have to stay the night at Paul’s but you’re stuck with George in the bed. the next morning you end up disgusted but things change that same night at the next party. warnings: drugs, alcohol, swearing year: 1967 word count: 2075

18th of December

“That git,” you muttered to Mo as you watched George flirting with a journalist. Mo sighed and shooked her head as she downed her drink. “What is it?” you wondered looking at her, another drink on your hand.

“Nothing, yn, nothing. I need to go with Ringo,” she said standing up from her seat and walked across the dance floor leaving you alone to shoot daggers at the youngest Beatle.

“Enjoying yourself? Whatcha looking at yn?” asked Paul as he served another drink for the guests.

“What? Yeah!” you smiled at him and took a sip of the alcoholic refreshment. “Everything’s very nice.” Paul looked behind you and widened his eyes when he saw George shoving his tongue down some girl’s throat.

“Staring at Geo again? You sure you don’t like him?” teased Paul with some seriousness.

“Me? Like George? The same way I like bananas and you know I hate bananas.” you scoffed and crossed your legs.

“If you say so...” Paul said in a sing-song tone. “Well, I need to talk to some guests but make yourself at home love.” he kissed your cheek and left the kitchen. You figured you couldn’t just sit around the whole party doing absolutely nothing except complaining about George. So you hopped off the stool and downed two shots before mingling through the crowd. A song you liked came on and you found yourself dancing with another musician.

You spent the rest of the night drinking, dancing and doing drugs. George was completely out of your mind but something else was. It caused you to stay completely still and face-palm in the middle of the dance floor. “What is it?” asked the musician you were dancing with.

“Nothing, I... I need to talk to Paul, one minute,” you said holding up a finger and stumbling to Paul. He was sat chatting on the couches with someone you didn’t know personally. You plopped down on his lap and wrapped your arms around his neck. “Hey Paulieeeee,” you mumbled drunkenly. “I’m too drunk and high to go home. May I pretty please stay here?” you batter you lashes and laughed at your stupidity.

“Of course princess, do you want to go to bed now?” you shook your head but stopped immediately due to the headache it caused you. “Yeah, better not shake your head too much.” Paul chuckled and kissed your cheek.

“Well, I’m going to go back to... Keith?” you made a face trying to remember who you had been dancing with. Paul laughed and patted your back so you would get up.

“Go have fun yn.” he winked and you smiled before leaving and rejoining whoever you had been dancing with. This time it was Mick Jagger who you had attached yourself to.

“Having fun darling?” he asked eyeing you.

“Yes sir!” you said laughing at your own joke.

“Want to get out of here? Go to a quieter place and take these...” he raised a small zip lock bag of drugs. You focused your eyes on them and nodded. Mick smiled and dragged you to a different room where a couple more people where. You greeted everyone but most were too drugged to even notice your presence.

“Here, take this,” he said placing two pink, round pills on your palm while he took two for himself as well. Mick downed them and you followed, your eyes trained on him as the effect took in. His face started to get deformed making you laugh. Your whole body fell heavy and you collapsed onto him, he caught you and gently laid you down on top of him. His arms went around yours and he caught your hands making waves in front of your face making you giggle. Your head fell back and you reached your his lips after having an overwhelming need to kiss him.

The door opened, normally you wouldn't have looked but something told you to so you pulled yourself from Mick and turned to see who had opened the door. There stood George, you could tell by just his outline, the light coming from the corridor made it hard to see his face but you knew it was him. “Fuck,” you swore regaining some sense. You shook your head as to clear it and attempted to get up.

“Love, wait, where are you going?” Mick said reaching for your hand.

“‘M tired, you were lovely tho.” you reached down to kiss your forehead before leaving but fell on top of him. Laughing loudly, you moved to straddle him. “Bye now,” you repeated properly getting back up. You pushed passed George and went into the first empty room collapsing on the bed. The door opened once more, it was Paul now.

“George told me you were passed out here,” he whispered.

“What? I just left that room,” you said in disbelief.

“That was hours ago, love.” Paul chuckled. “Here are some clothes to change into.” he pointed at a chair in the room you hadn’t noticed.

“Thanks, Paulie, do you have a ciggie?” you asked forcing yourself to sit up.

“Yeah, here you go.” he reached for his back pocket and handed you one along with a lighter

“Is the party over?”

“No.” laughed Paul. “Goodnight though.”

“Thanks Paulie.” you kissed his cheek and watched him leave before you could get changed into just a big t-shirt. You stepped outside to the balcony and overlooked the party going on outside, the music thumping loudly but you hadn’t heard it from inside. You leaned your forearms against the railing and smoked the cig. The door opened again but you didn’t bother looking who it was, probably Paul who had forgotten something.

When you came back into the room, shivering slightly, you saw a figure passed out on the bed. You nudged the man but he simply groaned. “Paul?” you asked.

“Hmm?”

“Oh, sorry, nothing.” you weren’t sure it was Paul but you were so tired you didn’t care. Part of you recognised the scent of the man, it was so familiar. You had so many drugs coursing through your system you couldn’t pin it so you gave up. You fell on the bed and passed out.

The next morning you were awakened by the light pouring into the room. There was a heavy arm trapping you from leaving. What had you gotten into? You turned to see who it was and screamed at the sight of George in your bed. “FUCK!” you yelled at the top of your lungs. George sat up straight and looked around.

“WHAT? What is it?” he asked wide awake.

“You! In my bed!” you pointed at him, the bed’s sheets covering your chest.

“What? No! You in my bed!” George complained shaking his head.

“Oh God! Did we...?” you buried your head behind your hands dreading the answer.

“No,” George replied simply as he stepped out of the bed. You sighed happily and fell back.

“Please get out,” you said a little calmer now.

***

Paul’s house was scattered with passed out people, drugs and drinks. You tipped toed around the house fully clothed now. George, John and Paul were chatting inside the kitchen. When John noticed you he called you over. Very slowly you entered the room and waved at everyone except for George who was looking the other way.

“Why was he in my bed?” you snapped turning to Paul.

“What?” Paul asked.

“Did you put him there?”

“No! I wouldn’t do that.” he reasoned, you scoffed but John had a grin on his face.

“You guys slept together!” John laughed switching between looking at you and looking at his bandmate. “This is brilliant!”

“We did not sleep together!” you both snapped at the same time.

“Will you two shut up already! Just fuck so you can get on with your lives!” John complained.

“God! I fucking hate him so drop it, John!” you snapped getting angry. For a split second, George looked upset but when you turned around to pick up the stuff you had dropped off, his hurt expression turned into an angry one. He agreed that he felt the same way before you ran out of the house.

***

John had invited you to another party, a Christmas one, and you had agreed hoping to resolve the incident and your issues with George. Your mind wouldn’t stop wandering back to his expression, he seemed hurt and that was unlike him. He hated you too, right? Or did he? You spent the days between the party and Christmas thinking about your feud and why it started. You honestly couldn’t remember why and if George had ever even said he dispised you.

You had picked out a white, silk, long dress for the event tonight. There was going to be press there and a designer had made a dress for you inspired by the Golden Age of Hollywood. The fabric hugged your shoulders and had a knot at the back. The body of the dress was tight as well but it released halfway down your thigh. You had paired it with a diamond bracelet, matching earrings, a necklace and a ring. The heels you picked were white as well, the heels long and thin empowering you.

You arrived a little bit later to the party, the gate to John’s home was filled with paparazzi’s snapping photos of you as you waved through the window. Inside his property, it was much calmer. Outside his home, there were a couple of cars dropping off guests and a selected amount of photographers from different newspapers. Your driver opened the door for you and as soon as you stepped out there were dozens of people calling your name.

With a polite smile on your face, you waved once more as you made your way into the Lennon home. John was waiting inside, he was wearing a suit and chatting with his guests but he went over to you when he noticed you. “God yn, you look beautiful.” he complimented spinning you around.

“You don’t look too bad yourself,” you said blushing slightly.

“There’s a bar over there, you know where everything is.” you thanked him before wandering over and ordering a gin tonic. You mingled through the crowd and you sipped on your drink for the first hour of the party. There were people you had to greet and talk to first before you could enjoy yourself. Just as you were wrapping up the conversation with an editor of a magazine you saw George alone in the balcony smoking a cigarette.

You excused yourself and decided it was now or never. The short walk to the sliding glass door seemed to take forever but you found the courage inside of you that you need to open it. George looked back and sighed, ready to get made fun of, when he saw it was you. “Here to make fun of me? What is it going to be now? My hair or my suit?” he asked.

“I’m sorry,” you said, your voice breaking. George chuckled slightly and shook his head.

“Very funny.”

“I’m serious George, I’ve been a dick to you and I’m sorry. I don’t even know why... Guess I was just jealous.”

“What? Jealous of who?” he finally turned around and stamped out his cigarette. You stepped forward, rubbing your hands together and looking down.

“Of all the girls who you used to go with...” you admitted feeling a weight lift off your shoulders.

“yn...” George took a step to you and took your hands in his, rubbing them softly. “I’m sorry too, I just wanted your attention and I didn’t know how to get it... I love you.” your head shot up and a smile formed on your face.

“Really?” George nodded in response. “I love you too,” you admitted with a shaky laugh. He smiled and slithered his arms around your back pulling you onto his chest. His hand went up to your face and gently moved a stray lock so he could see you properly, your hands were resting on his chest as you waited for him to kiss you. George finally closed the space between you, leaning down to softly kiss you.

“FINALLY!” yelled John from inside. Paul, Ringo (who were next to him) and John all raised their glasses.

“FUCK OFF!” you and George yelled at the same before turning back to each other laughing.

tag list;

@thebeatleswritings @beatlevmania @i-love-queen-3000 @brians-metaphor26 @honimello @julessworldd @storiesfrommirkwood @beatles-babee @geostarr @thiccjelly17 @crab-king-69 @in-the-frap-of-the-gods @psychosupernatural @fiesta-freddie

#george harrison #george harrison x reader #george harrison fluff #george harrison imagine #george harrison one shot #george harrison blurb #the beatles #the beatles x reader #the beatles fluff #the beatles imagine #the beatles one shot #the beatles blurb

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royallyprincesslilly · 5 years

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Title: Love, Maybe? {30}

Chris Evans X Reader OFC Vixen Giovanni

Warning: Cursing, Plot, Slow, Smoldering, Torturous Burn 😊, Angst, Fluff

Word Count: 5.9K

Summary: After a night of drunkenness you wake up next to warm, hot as hell body, a migraine and no memory of the night before. When you come to realize that the hot body belongs to none other than Hollywood’s golden boy Chris Evans you freak out. As events unfold you become even more panicked to find out you got married in your drunken haze. What else is there to do but get it annulled, right? Before walking away, you share one more night of molten kisses and passion. Three years later you are still living with the repercussions of your brash decisions, but the surprises don’t stop there. The past has a way of coming back and have you questioning is this fate that you’ve been running from, hell could it have been love, maybe?

Note: Italic texts is an inner Vixen thought. Bold Italic texts is an inner Chris thought.

**Slightly Edited/Proofread**

***Interactive***

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Chapter 30: This One You’ll Remember

-Vixen-

“We haven’t jogged together in months,” Nexus announced while you zipped past another clearing of trees.

“Yeah, the restaurant has been taking all my attention and time.”

“Not just the restaurant,” Nex added. You eyed her as a warning not to start.

You’d decided on jogging because you needed the distraction needed to feel some form of control over something and loved the freedom you felt. Everyone in your life joked all the time the reason you loved jogging so much was that you were a gypsy at heart and loved to drift. Your mother said you had a free soul like your grandmother, who went her whole life bouncing from place to place, relationship to relationship until she found one man, but they drifted together. She’d told you at a young age that the only way you’d be happy in life is if you were able to keep your freedom and find a man who would either tame that desire for freedom or compliment it with his own love of it. Your response to this was, “No one will ever tame me; I’m the master of my destiny, captain of my fate.” Events of the last three years had really begun to make you question if, in fact, fate and destiny were the masters of you.

“Let’s take a breather up ahead,” Nex suggested.

After another half mile, you stopped and leaned against a tree. Nearby the sight of the sky caught your eye, and you slowly walked to it. After a few feet, you stepped beyond the last trees to the top of a cliff.

“Holy shit!” Nexus appeared beside you, then her jaw dropped.

“Wow.”

Before you was blue sky and as far as the eye could see tops of full, green trees and further was a body of water. You weren’t sure if it were a lake, river, or the ocean itself. All you knew was that it was breathtaking.

“This is incredible.” You nodded in agreement with your sister.

“Makes you just wanna relocate, huh.” Your head snapped to Nex and narrowed your eyes.

“Nope!”

Walking off back into the woods, she followed.

“Still mad at Chris for last night?”

“No, I was never mad.” She nodded and allowed the silence to stretch.

“How are things going with Anthony?”

Nexus’ smile lit up the entire forest, and you couldn’t help but smile. “Good.”

“Just good? Nex, you’re dating your celebrity crush. Your celebrity crush is head over heels for you. That has to be better than good.”

She smiled wider, and you could feel the giddy energy radiating off of her.

“He’s great Vix, but I don’t want to talk about it, especially with what you’re going through.”

“What am I going through?”

“Everything. Chris’ family, integrating two families to possibly make a third, having to be around him while everything between you is still so—confusing.”

You shook your head — "Nex stop. Okay yes, things have been—complicated lately, and I do have a lot going on, but when don’t I. No matter what is going on with me and in my life you are still my sister. It has always been you and me against the world, and that will never change. We can talk about your happiness and all of it because you winning and being happy makes me so happy.” Nexus studied you for a few moments then nodded.

“Even if you’re not really happy, happy?” You knew what she meant and shook your head after a few seconds of adjustment and trying to hide any effects of her words.

“I’m fine, honey,” you smiled warmly and took her hand, hoping this was enough of a reassurance. Looking at her, you knew she saw right through you. Knew she was not buying anything you were selling. Looking away you continued walking. “Plus, there is nothing confusing about anything. My kid’s father is in her life now, boom end of it.”

“Vix--,” Nexus began before you cut her off.

“Tell me about things with you and Anthony.” She smiled widely again then finally caved.

She told you how much they had in common, how sweet and considerate he was. When she confessed to you that they talked at least three times a day and were always the last call of the day, you couldn’t help but release an audible sigh. She beamed when she spoke about him, and you could tell she was in love. Without warning you pulled her into a hug.

“What’s this for?”

“I’m so happy for you, Nex. I am so, so happy for you. You deserve nothing but happiness.” She hugged you back, and the two of you stood there surrounded by trees and nature just hugging each other. Soon Nexus pulled away and sniffled.

“Don’t make it weird, you’re making it weird,” she said as she wiped her eyes.

“You’re making it weird; I’m not making it weird.” You wiped your eyes as well and took a breath.

“I know you hate my advice Vix--.”

You snorted. “I don’t hate your advice. I hate when you’re right with that advice,” you corrected. Nexus laughed, which made you laugh as well.

“You love being right and in control. Maybe you need to embrace not having all the answers and the chaos it brings. Maybe through losing control, will you see how rightly wrong you are.” Nex ran off, leaving you standing there to marinate what she’d just said.

“Did you just give me a fortune cookie riddle? Nex?”

~~~~~~~~

When you made it back to the house and took a shower, it was nearing two in the afternoon. The knock at your door brought you out of all your thoughts. When you opened it there he stood holding a towel wrapped beaming Ella.

“Pool.” Chris smiled then nodded. You shook your head. “All right come on little mermaid. Let’s get you in a bath.”

You walked out of your room and to her room. When you got inside her ensuite bathroom, you began filling the tub while looking for the bubble bath mixture she loved.

“Can you grab a fresh towel, please?” Chris nodded and put Ella on the bathroom sink before he walked out.

After getting her undressed, you placed her into the sea of mounting bubbles. As you did Ella squealed with joy. When Chris returned, she shouted for him, and a broad smile spread across his face. You placed her toys into the bath just as Chris was turning to leave.

“Da-da tay, gwive bat.”

Chris looked at you to find out what he should do. You motioned for him to go ahead and slid on top of the bathroom counter. Chris hesitated but approached the tub where you’d laid out everything needed.

“Pway fuwst, I awiel oo ewic.” She held up her ariel and Eric dolls, and he took one.

You sat there and watched them reenact most of the movie, songs included, and just shook your head. You couldn’t tell who was enjoying themselves more. It was still insane to think about how alike they were. It was like two peas in a pod. When they reenacted the final battle between Ursala, their eyes turned to you.

“What?”

“We kinda need someone to play Ursala,” Chris informed. Your jaw dropped.

“Are you saying you want me to play the evil sea witch? Of all the other roles, like Ariel’s umpteen sisters, even the darn blowfish that blows his horn, the sea witch is what I came to mind for?”

Chris smiled as Ella giggled. “Please.”

Ella then joined in, “Pweese mama.” You looked between them and shook your head as you hopped off the counter to sit at the side of the tub. You then began the scene and gave it your all. You and Chris fake battled using the dolls as weapons, and Ella clapped and laughed the entire time watching the live-action movie. When Chris delivered the final blow you exaggerated the pain and proceeded to the death scene that you dragged out until you were laid across the bathroom floor. Ella clapped wildly, and Chris closed the show with a deep bow.

“And they lived happily ever after.”

“Yaaay!” Slowly, you sat up and watched Ella hug Chris. “Da-da, pwince, mine.” You smiled again and thought to yourself how cute they were together.

Once you were back in her room, you sat on her bed, doing her hair as she hummed to some made up song. Chris walked back into the room arms filled with several wet towels. “Floor is dry, and bath is cleaned up. I’m gonna take a shower.” You nodded and watched him walk out, leaving the door open.

“Mama.”

“Yes, princess.”

“I wike da-da.”

“Oh, do you?” She nodded.

“Okay, that’s great, honey.”

“Oo wike da-da?” Your hands stilled, and you thought about her question. What did you say to a two-year-old when they asked if you liked their father? Taking a deep breath, you forged ahead.

“Yes, I like him too. She didn’t speak after that, and you were glad for it; your head was now miles away.

~~~~~~~

-Chris-

She said she liked him. He didn’t mean to hear it. He walked out to put the towels in the laundry but turned back to ask you something, but he didn’t expect to hear those words. Now that he’d heard it he couldn’t forget it. The only thing is he didn’t know exactly what you meant by it. There were many ways you could like someone; there was platonic, characteristically, humanely, brotherly, sexually, romantically. There were too many ways to be wrong. You were incredibly hard to read. You were then, and you still were.

Since he’d found out you were still married, he didn’t know what to do with the information, every day he went back and forth with a decision. One day he thought to tell his legal team to petition to see if the courts would be lenient because of the situation. Then the next he was so close to telling you to see what you wanted. He’d almost told you three times now, and each time he almost did —his heart beat out his chest. He was nervous, scared even. Part of him didn’t want you to want to proceed with the divorce, and the other part said it was the only way. Neither of you knew much about the other. A marriage couldn’t be sustained that way.

When he thought that though he didn’t really believe it, he knew how he felt about you. Knew it wasn’t some whim, hell he even knew he wouldn’t outgrow it. He was now at the point where he wanted to find a way to make things work. He’d gotten everything he’d wanted one night three years ago and spend the next three years missing it, regretting his mistakes, wishing for them. Everything he’d ever wanted was his, and he didn’t want to let it go—not again.

He couldn’t read you to decipher what you felt or didn’t feel, no matter how his mother believed you felt something for him. He couldn’t be sure, and the fact that he wasn’t sure stressed him out. The simplicity of the matter was that you could very well not want anything to do with him, including him with Ella. It scared him. He usually wasn’t a timid guy; he was able to read people better than anyone in his circle and would also be the outgoing one. He was never afraid to approach women or take one home. He was not this guy he was now. He didn’t like the fact that he now second guessed everything he did or said. He didn’t like that he double and triple thought everything when it came to you. It was upsetting, but he couldn’t stop. His instincts were all out of whack; nothing felt normal or like he was used to. You were a complete mind fuck.

He’d thought he could get a better understanding of how you truly felt to make a better decision on what could be possible for the two of you—three of you, but he didn’t know to go about that. Every attempt he’d made thus far has been met with a stern Heisman from you. Every set back further added water to any fire he wanted to believe was still there.

“You look constipated.”

He spun around to see Nexus was sitting on one of the chairs in the backyard. He scoffed and shook his head. “I didn’t see you there.”

“How could you? You were so wrapped up in your head; it was impossible. Everything okay?”

He nodded and released a breath. “Yeah, all good.” Nexus snorted and shook her head.

“You and Vixen are such bad liars. I have always been able to see right through her. You, I’m pleased are very similar.”

“Does uh—does Vixen lie a lot?”

“To herself mainly.” He nodded, thinking about what that meant when compared to everything from the last few months.

“Can I ask you something, Chris?”

“Anything.”

“In this—fairytale storybook, what are you hoping for?”

A few moments passed while he thought about it. “I didn’t start off with any wants—not really.”

“And now? A few months have passed; you’ve been able to grasp things more firmly, settle into them. What do you want? Remember that night in the diner where I told you to figure out what you want. Did you?”

He sighed again and looked back to the woods. “I did.”

“And?”

He was quiet again. “Chris, I promise anything we talk about won’t go back to Vixen or anyone—unless it’s to protect her.”

“Protect her? From me?”

She nodded. “Do you think she needs protecting from me?”

Nexus studied him for several long moments before she spoke. “Until you know what you want—really want, and it proves to be in the best interest of my sister and niece then you’re a wild card. Wild cards carry plenty of destructing power.” He nodded, understanding the context of what she didn’t say.

“I want my daughter; I want to be in her life. I want to be there every step of the way. I want her to know me, and I want to know her. I want—to know her mother—to—to--,” he took a deep breath and blew it out before he continued. “I have no intention of hurting Vixen, Nexus.”

“I believe that, Chris. The thing with the intent not to hurt; we usually unintentionally hurt. I don’t want them hurt. I don’t want it to be proven that it was better having you out of their lives than it was for you to be in them.”

Truthfully, that was one of his fears as well, a very serious and terrifying fear. He already believed you’d been better off without him the last three years, and he didn’t want to think you’d still be that way for the next three years—three decades and beyond.

“I want you to win Chris—I want you both to win.” She smiled warmly, and he knew there was no malic coming from her; she genuinely wanted what was best. Nexus turned and walked away, as she did she spoke one final time. “You know what to do.”

He nodded; he did.

Thirty minutes later, he walked into the family room to see your entire family sitting watching TV. You and Ella were cuddled on the couch with Dodger on the floor beside the couch, with Ella’s hand resting on the top of his head.

“This could be every day, you idiot. This could be your life.”

“I have an idea.” Everyone turned to him, waiting for him to continue. “I was able to get some tickets to a carnival that is in town, and I thought we all could enjoy the day there.”

The grownups looked at each other, but Ella kept looking at the TV.

“Is that—safe, given who you are?” Your father’s inquiry was a valid one. A lot of times, when he went out, he was ambushed, even when he kept a low profile. The difference though was when he was here—home; no one bothered him. When he was here he was simply Chris, not Captain America, not a famous movie star. He was just Chris.

“When I’m here, I’m just a normal guy. No one comes up; a lot of people respect me and let me go about my day. So I’m confident with saying it’s safe.”

“Actually Chris, I have other plans with my husband. So we won’t be able to go,” your mother announced.

“Okay, that’s no problem. Nex?”

“Nexus has plans with us as well. We thought a family day,” she continued. Nexus looked to her, and the two exchanged a look. It was a look he couldn’t decipher, but as quickly as it happened, Nexus looked away.

“Yeah. I can’t wait to spend time with them.” It was then you sat up on the couch as you looked at your sister quizzically.

“That leaves you, Ella and Vixen. What do you say Kristella? Carnival, rides, games, cotton candy, prizes?” Your mother listed off the items, each item was said with way more enthusiasm than necessary. It didn’t take Ella long to stand on the couch and jump up and down.

“Yeah, cawvival, cawvival, candy, wide, yayy!” Dodger began barking, trying to get on his hind legs to lick her.

“Uh, if it’s a family day, mom, shouldn’t I be going with you, dad, and Nex?”

“Vixen, can’t I spend time with my parents without you for once? God, it’s not always about you,” Nexus exclaimed. Your eyes widened, but you didn’t look hurt. You looked distrustful.

“Chop, chop, sooner you leave the more carnival fun,” your mother added while clapping her hands. Ella leaped off the couch and landed on her knees. His heart jumped into his throat as he practically dived to her to check if she were okay. Ella stood brushed off her knees and ran around the room showcasing how fine she was.

“Come on, Vixen, let’s get you changed,” your mother offered.

“Changed? Why can’t I wear what I have on?” Your mother looked you over once and shook her head before ushering you out of the room.

When you came back down twenty minutes later, you were changed, and you looked as gorgeous as ever. The pleased look on your mother's face told him this had been her plan. He scoffed and shook his head. He’d never been set up with his own wife before.

“That’s a first.”

“All right you crazy kids, go enjoy the carnival,” your mother expressed with a smile.

You rolled your eyes and took up your purse. Ella took his hand, and he held on to the bag that was packed for her, and they were off.

Ten minutes into the drive, you snorted and began laughing.

“What?”

“You do realize we were set up, right?” He smiled and nodded.

“Yeah, I picked up on it with how big your mom’s smile was.” The two of you laughed together, and the awkwardness was gone.

~~~~~~~~

-Vixen-

He looked like he belonged pushing Ella in her stroller with her backpack on his back, and his hat tipped low. He looked like a dad, and it should not have affected you the way that it did. As you looked around the sea of people that were around you at the carnival you saw families of all kinds and even couples, and you wondered if any of their stories were as wild or complex as yours.

“So games, food or rides first?”

“Wide, wide!” You nodded, motioning to Ella.

“Seems like the boss has spoken,” he teased.

The three of you walked around on the hunt for a toddler friendly ride. When you came upon the Merry-Go-Round, you and Chris exchanged a look.

“Merry-Go-Round still your favorite carnival, right?”

Chris smiled widely as he rubbed the back of his neck that was turning a slight shade of pink.

“Sad to say, yeah, hands down,” he responded. You smiled and nodded.

“Then, let’s ride.”

The three of you made it on the platform and walked around in search of the right animal to ride. Ella pointed out a pink unicorn with white flowers at its crown, and Chris nodded. Once he placed her on the unicorn and strapped her in, he climbed onto it behind her and held on to the pole with one hand and her with the other. You chose the black horse that was diagonal from them and strapped up. When you looked back to them Chris’ eyes were looking at your backside. Heat ran through you, and half of you wanted to play it up and poke out your ass some more to give him a better view while the other half wanted to wallow in the embarrassment of the moment.

You looked forward, took a breath, and held on to the pole waiting for the ride to start. Once it did Ella, let out a loud squeal. Looking back, she had the hugest smile on her face as she held on to the pole. Your horse went up her unicorn went down, then vice versa. By the time you made your third go around, she and Chris were laughing and whispering together, and that was your catastrophic moment. The moment that packed the biggest punch. They both looked incredibly happy and so in love with each other. You knew she was better with him in her life, and for the first time you wanted him to be in yours too.

Once you got off, your realization had you quiet and reserved for quite a while. You tried to remain present, tried to push it all from your mind, but every cute moment between them made it that much harder. Every game they played together that Chris helped her with made your heart warm, and every time Ella initiated touching him being a handhold or a lean, your belly did flips. When she initiated a hug, you were thoroughly fucked up. Who knew watching your child with her father could make you feel so much—all the things you’d buried.

Two hours later you had eaten a high amount of cheese, carbs, starch, and ketchup, consumed almost Ella’s body weight in cotton candy, went on nearly every child appropriate ride, allowed Ella to pet and take pictures with the elephants and had a stroller filled with prizes of various sizes.

“You, sir, one try to get this bulb all the way to the top. If you do, you get two prizes.” Chris snorted and shook his head while keeping it down.

“No, thank you.”

“What’s the matter afraid you’ll embarrass yourself striking out sending this three hundred pound bulb up in front of your wife?” He laughed and kept his head down.

“No, not afraid,” he confessed.

“Then let’s see it, Superman.” The game controller held out the mallet to him. Chris looked to you, and you smirked.

“Do it da-da.”

“All right, the little princess has spoken,” Chris joked. You bent and lifted Ella as Chris took the mallet and prepared to slam it down. He looked up at the bulb and to the game controller.

“Three hundred pounds, huh.”

The game controller nodded with a smug look on his face; “Whenever you’re ready,” the game controller encouraged.

Chris lifted his arms and his shirt rose just above his navel and the sliver of skin, and muscle had you ready to touch. Chris grunted as he slammed the mallet down. The sound was sexy, and your desire level rose exponentially. The bulb shot all the way up, lighting up the entire contraption, and sounding all the alarms. Nearby onlookers watched and gaped at the result of his stroke. Just like that you knew you were going to end up having sex with him. It was only a matter of time and dependent on how long you could keep your desires in check with the right thing to do, the sensible thing—the safe thing.

Chris came back over with two prizes in hand, a unicorn that was no doubt for Ella and Flit the bird from Pocahontas--your favorite Disney movie. Ella reached her arms out for him to give him a quick hug. “Dude, what the—how the--,” the game controller struggled to get out. Chris shrugged as he took hold of the stroller.

“Guess I’m Captain America.” He walked off with you giggling as the man stood there, stumped to how it was possible.

Your next stop was the Ferris Wheel. You tried to contain your glee once you stepped onto the ride, but when Chris looked over at you, as the ride began your face betrayed you.

“How excited are you right now?” You squealed and laughed.

“Oh my god, I am so excited. I love the Ferris Wheel!”

Chris smiled widely and nodded as he held Ella. “I know, I remember.” You looked away and out to the horizon.

When your cart made it to the top, you looked out and sighed. This was your favorite part. Ella stood in Chris’ lap and looked around.

“Wow!”

“I can see why you love it so much,” Chris added.

“Anyone who doesn’t like this is either afraid of heights or prefers to keep their feet on the ground, so boring.”

He laughed loud while slapping his hand across his pec muscle. You smiled.

“Wow, so they’re boring, huh. That is very presumptuous of you. They could be outgoing in other things.” You smiled and shook your head.

“I said what I said. Boring. If you aren’t adventurous in something as simple as a ride, then you are boring in everything else.”

“Everything?” You looked at him and knew what he was asking. You smiled and shook your head. This was how things started, his questioning, and the raised eyebrow.

“Yes. Everything.” He laughed and shook his head then looked at Ella, who was so engrossed with the view she was practically pressing against the protective screen. As you watched him with your daughter, you took notice of how protective he was of her. He held her tightly, kept her away from the filthy protective screen, nodded his head along to whatever she was saying, even allowed her to use his face as a steadying force without cringing at her hands. It all screamed parental.

“What’re you thinking?” Snapping out of it, you shook your head, trying to guide him from the topic.

“No, I know that look. It’s probably one of the only looks I know. You were thinking about something. What was it?”

You thought about cluing him in for a moment then looked down at your hands as you felt the wheel move again. “Nothing really, it was just seeing you and her—like this it—it looked very—paternal.”

“Paternal? What do you mean by that?”

“You look as if you’ve been doing this your whole life or her whole life. There was really no adjustment period with you. You—slid right in.”

He looked to be thinking about your words then looked to Ella’s face. She looked at him and smiled, a smile he quickly returned. “Honestly it felt right. You ever had something just feel as natural as breathing? Like you knew all the answers, knew just what to do, what to expect, how to be, just knowing it.”

You nodded. “That is what it felt like. Yeah, I was scared for a while when I found out, but after the night we watched The Little Mermaid for the first time together everything felt right. It felt more right than anything had felt in a long time. I can’t explain it.”

“You just did.” You stared at each other, and time seemed to stand still with the three of you moving slowly through the air with the beautiful setting sun as your backdrop.

“Stay on or get off?” The ride controller brought you back to the present, and the two of you spoke at the same time.

“Stay on.”

So that’s what you did, rode the Ferris Wheel until you and Ella had enough, which was three more times. There was no need for much conversation, so the two of you barely spoke, and it felt perfect. You appreciated that neither of you felt the need to fill every moment between you with conversation; silence was just as good.

Another hour found you sitting on a lawn with the rest of the carnival patrons watching the night’s firework show. It was incredible and definitely a competing force for Macy’s Fourth of July firework show. Every burst of color to the sky had Ella completely captivated. She sat there between you and Chris as still as a river just transfixed by everything she saw. Every time you looked over to her Chris’ eyes met yours, and you held each other’s gaze for longer than necessary. You loved the way he looked under the light of fireworks. Though it was dark his eyes were still intense and still did things to you that you should have been ashamed of. Part of you was ashamed, but the other part didn’t seem to care too much. You were always the one to look away. You mostly did it because you were afraid he’d see everything you held behind your eyes, everything you weren’t quite sure you were ready to show him.

By the time you made it back to the house, it was nearing eleven, and Ella was knocked out. You sat in the parked car for a few extra minutes, just enjoying the silence.

“This was great. Thank you.”

Chris nodded. “It was great. Thank you for coming.”

You smiled and stared at your hands. Nervousness filled you, and you felt like a high school girl being dropped home by her crush, wondering if he’d make a move. Every time you were around each other every moment felt like it was prime for either him or you to make a move, but neither of you did.

“Should we get her in bed?” You nodded and climbed out of the truck.

Chris got Ella, and the three of you went inside the house and upstairs. When you walked into Ella’s room you began pulling back the covers of her bed for him to place her in. Once he did, the two of you worked together to undress her as smoothly as possible to not wake her. Chris disappeared for a few moments then when you turned and bumped into him, he was there holding a pair of pajamas for you. Your hands grazed, and then your eyes met. You were so close all you had to do was tip up on your toes, and your lips would touch.

You took the clothes and turned back to Ella and proceeded to dress her. After you finished it was Chris who tucked her in, and both of you kissed her at the same time. Again, your eyes met, and your belly did somersaults. You backed away, trying to keep distance between you. “Thank you again for tonight,” you whispered.

“We make a good team.” He nodded to Ella’s sleeping frame, and you both watched her for a few moments.

“We do. We created her; that was perfect teamwork,” you absentmindedly responded.

“Do you regret it?” Your head snapped to him, confused why he’d ask you that.

“Do I regret what? Having her or--,” you allowed the remainder of the sentence to hang in the air.

“All of it.”

What a loaded question you thought, but the answer was simple. “I regret nothing.”

Chris looked shocked, then interested. He took a step to you. “Nothing?”

After a few seconds, you took a step to him, leaving just a sliver of space between you. “Not a thing.” You watched Chris bite into his bottom lip, and next thing you knew his lips were on yours, taking control of the sultriest kiss you’d had in three years. It only took seconds for your knees to buckle and moments for him to take your breath away. You kissed him with the same fire and need that emitted from him. After barely a minute, the two of you were moaning in the dark, quiet room seeming to not care about anything else.

You needed to get closer, so you lifted your leg, and his hand was there to grip your thigh, holding it in place against him. Chris then bent slightly and lifted you against him. Automatically your legs wrapped around him. Chris then moved from the center of the room and pressed you against a nearby wall. You moaned when you felt his growing hardness press into the apex of your thighs. With your moan Chris groaned and bit onto your bottom lip. You felt as if your skin was scorching, and there was a fire that was flaming out from your nether regions. The more intensely and expertly he kissed you, the more out of control the fire became. Chris pressed himself into you more forcefully, and you gasped, pulling your lips from his and hitting your head back onto the wall with an audible, “Fuck!”

Chris took the opportunity to latch his lips onto your neck and suck just where he knew you craved his mouth. You shivered and felt wetness pool between your legs. He didn’t stay at your neck for long; instead his lips traveled to your clavicle where he peppered feathered kisses across it. Then Chris’ mouth moved down your sternum until you felt his teeth clamp onto one of your already needy nipples. You gasped again and couldn’t control your lower half from grinding against him. Chris groaned loudly and hissed when he felt your fingernails dig into his shoulders.

All you had to do was continue the friction of his length on your crotch, and you’d come, you were that open. Chris allowed you to slide down from his body so you were on the floor then he began to go lower to your stomach. It was then you caught of glimpse of Ella sleeping peacefully in her bed across the room. The realization of what was happening and what would happen soon slammed into you like a ton of bricks. You gasped. Like a bucket of ice-cold water had been poured over your head you snapped out of it.

“Wait—wait.” Chris’s actions instantly stopped. He didn’t look up at you though. It was as if he thought that if he didn’t move, things would fall back into place. After almost a minute, he looked up at you then stood coming face to face with you.

“What’s wrong?” You took the time to study his eyes and go over every single aspect of his face. He was gorgeous, always had been, but he’d only grown better looking.

“We can’t.” He didn’t speak; he studied you as you studied him.

“We’ve already screwed things up so bad already. I’ve screwed up. We can’t—can’t do this. We have to focus on that little girl and only her. We can’t ruin things anymore.”

His expression was masked as was anything he was thinking or feeling. He looked like a blank canvas. Chris looked down, nodded and then stepped away from you. Your eyes dropped to his waist, and you saw the strain of his pants. Again, your desire for him flared. Before you could drop to your knees and do what you wanted to, you scurried from the room with your head high and back straight. You were so thankful you’d packed your vibrator, tonight you’d need it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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#love maybe fic #Chris Evans #chris evans fanfiction #Chris Evans X black reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x reader #chris evans smut #angst fanfic #slow burn fanfic

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maturemenoftvandfilms · 5 years

Text

‘A Night with William Windom’

Featuring William Windom

Back in 1997, I was at the Beverly Garland Holiday Inn in North Hollywood where many celebrities from TV’s “Golden Age” taking part in autograph meet-and-greets with fans. I first spotted William Windom sitting next to former Jackie Gleason Show regular Sheila MacRae, just down from Ken Berry and Larry Storch from F Troop. You got older stars at the Hollywood Show back then because, well, they were still around.

I had just purchased a still from Mr. Windom’s debut movie To Kill a Mockingbird and he seemed surprised by my choice as most people wanted stills from Star Trek or Murder, She Wrote.

“I’m a lawyer today in large part because of that movie.” I told him.

Mr. Windom proceeded to tell me a few anecdotes about lawyers and his time on the set To Kill a Mockingbird. Eccentric and fidgety, I noticed he kept messing around with an old navy telescope gizmo, a small brass thing he kept looking through when he wasn’t being bugged for his John Hancock.

“Check this out.” He finally said to me.

I looked through it and realized that it was a trick telescope with a mirror in it so you could look directly sideways from where it appeared you were looking. Windom, married five times in his life, was scoping out the Playboy bunnies signing at a nearby table. The man knew what to bring to the show.

I told him “If that what you like” and his response was “Well what do you like?”

“Someone like you,” I found myself saying, “And if I’m honest, I had a crush on you from watching the show called The Farmer’s Daughter.” I added flirtatiously.

“WELL, we’ll fix THAT!” He replied with devilish satisfaction.

I spent about an hour with Mr. Windom over the two days and on the final day of the convention, I had a private conversation with him in a back room during his break on Sunday for almost half an hour. He genuinely enjoyed my company. I think I embarrassed him with all my adulation, because I told him he was the sole reason I had made the trip. Which wasn’t exactly the truth, but he was funny and attentive, and told me many funny stories. And during that whole time, I continued to seriously flirt with Bill. Testing his comfort level, seeing if he would bite, as it were.

The idea of possibly fucking him drove me mad with lust, but sadly it seem like it was only going to be a dream.

“Well… its been a pleasure meeting you Mr. Windom.” I said as I was about to leave.

Bill stood up, smiled a half smile at me and said, “So… you still want to suck an old man’s cock?”

And without waiting for my answer, he unzipped his fly and quickly pulled his dick out which greatly surprised me. First, because my flirting worked and second, we were alone in the room, but anyone could have walked in right then. Bill didn’t seem to care. But as I focused on his dick, all other thoughts quickly faded from my mind.

“Ain’t much now, but I’m sure you can make it hard.” Bill said, giving me a good look at his thick beautiful dick. It was pale, cut, thick and pinkish in color with a big head.

Walking up to my chair, he shoved his soft dick close to my face. I naturally opened up to taste him and he tasted good. Sweet and manly. My hands quickly wrapped around his hips, pulling him closer to my face, shoving his cock deeper into my mouth.

“That feels damn right good. I haven’t had it sucked in months.” Bill said looking straight down into my eyes.

“Swallow it all the way. I know you can do it.” He urged me on as his dick quickly hardened.

Bill’s dick was thick and was a good seven inches when it was hard. But because it wasn’t overly fat, I was able to keep swallowing his suddenly lengthening dick until I had his entire dick buried down my throat. I closed my eyes to enjoyed the smell of his crotch and the wet sounds of my lips sucking his cock. And the sensation of that cock sliding in and out of my mouth was incredible.

Just then, the door opened and someone else came in. Bill quickly pulled his cock out of my mouth and slipped it back in his pants before anyone noticed what we were doing. Then he reached in his pocket and placed his hotel room card on the edge of the table right next to me. He gave me a wink and walked out, leaving the key behind. I looked around to see if anyone had noticed, but no one had. So I grabbed the key, waited a few minutes then headed out.

By the time I got to Bill’s room, I was afraid he’d think I wasn’t’ interested, but when I entered the room, he was ready and waiting. He was in a hotel bathrobe, sitting up in bed with his rock hard cock tenting underneath. Without hesitation, I jumped on the bed and opened up his robe, exposing his fully hard cock. Bill spread his legs, took my head in his hand and guided me to his cock. I opened my mouth wide and greedily started to suck it. I looked up to Bill, his eyes were closed and head tilted back moaning softly, “Oh, good son. Keep on doing it.”

Hearing those words, I started sucking wildly on it. His breathing became really heavy as well as his moaning when suddenly Bill lift my head off his cock. The next thing I knew, I was on my back with him between my legs lifting them high in the air. Kindly, Bill put some lube on my ass that he got out of his travel bag before I felt his two fingers massaging my ass, pushing in and out to loosen me up. He suddenly stopped and I watched him centering up the tip of his cock to my asshole.

“Fuck me, Bill. Give it to me.” I found myself saying as he began pushing for the best angle in.

And Bill did just that as he rammed half his dick deep in my hole so violently that I sucked in air to keep from crying out. Then he rammed the rest of it into me, stopping only when his low hanging balls slapped against my ass.

“You like having my cock up your ass?” He suddenly asked with a hint of a smile on his face.

“Yes... Fuck me, Bill!” I told him shaking my head.

“Oh I’ll fuck you all right.” He said as he pulled his dick out of my ass until only its head remained inside. Then looking straight into my eyes, he rammed his dick back inside as far as it would go.

“Damn if you don’t have a hot ass.” He told me as he started pumping his dick in and out of me with powerful strokes that had me bucking and moaning.

Then right in the middle of the fucking, he leaned forward and kissed me! I couldn’t believe it. William Windom, who I had always had a crush, was fucking me and kissing me as passionately as I had ever been kissed. Every time I saw him on TV, I had wanted to have sex with him. Now I was doing that. I could tell he was about to cum when I noticed the strained look on his face. And as if on cue, he shot off inside me!

Oh, how I hated for him to cum. But to my surprise he continued to kiss me as though nothing had happened. I wrapped my legs around his waist to hold his cock inside me as long as possible.

After we broke our embrace, I laid there with my eyes closed as I started stroking my cock. Then I felt Bill’s hand stop me from jerking my cock off. Looking me in the eyes, he smiled, then quickly went down on my cock. I couldn’t believe he was sucking my dick? Here’s a 5 time married man, sucking on my dick and looking like he was in heaven doing it. And from the way he was doing it, I could swear he had done it before.

A minute or two of this and I was getting close to cumming when Bill suddenly pulled away. At first I thought that he had enough, but he reached for a container of lube, rubbed some on my dick and smeared some on his asshole.

I knew he hadn’t been fucked before, so I figured I would have a hell of a time getting my cock into Bill’s asshole. But I wasn't about to stop him. I just hope I wouldn’t hurt him. Suddenly, he was kneeling up over me, guiding the tip of my dick to his ass and forcing himself down on me. Slowly, he opened up to accommodate my swollen head and I heard him gasp as it slipped all the way in. Moaning deliriously, Bill squatting down further and further, until all 8 inches of me was in him.

“Oh my god, your cock feels so fucking good in me.” He said out loud.

“Oh yeah, take my cock.” I said as I then began to thrust up slowly. I was ecstatic as I thought it was time to give him the first fucking of his life.

“Yes, oh my god yes! Take me. Fuck me hard.” Bill said in a demanding voice.

This was all the invitation I needed. I started pumping slow and methodical for a good 3 minutes or so until he grew accustomed to the size of my cock. It was fascinating to feel his large body tremble with each thrust. By now he was really gasping and moaning in pure pleasure. At this point, we kind of bouncing off each other as I slammed my cock in and out of him.

‘Oh that’s the way.’ Bill said looking straight down into my eyes.

The knowledge that I was giving this hot man so much pleasure filled me with pride. Bill was really enjoying himself at this point as he was rocking onto my cock. Most of the pleasure he was feeling now was coming from his ass, rather than his cock as he was moaning and babbling incoherently. By now his asshole spasming around my probing cock. And now all I wanted to do was cum as I couldn’t take anymore. I buried my cock deep into his hole and held it there as I pumped a full load of cum into him. Burst after burst of cum coated his insides as we held our positions, gasping for breath, but satisfied.

“That’s something I have wanted to do to you ever since I found out that you were gay.” Bill confessed as he grimaced and pulled himself reluctantly up and off my still swollen dick.

“I guess both of us had fantasies fulfilled today.”

[THE END]

#William Windom #fan fiction #Windom fan fiction #actor

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