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megan-is-mia · 4 years

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hi! can I req vil with no. 2 from smothering list? I just think that his costume fits that one really well! thx before

(You’re very right this prompt matches the vampy boi to a Tee!) 2. “What do you mean it hurts? If it hurts, it’s because you’re struggling!” (Yandere! Vil Schoenheit x Fem! S/o)

The noise of the party was making (Y/n)’s head hurt. She didn't know why she had let her friends convince her to come with them in the first place. Crowded spaces, loud music, and lots of people all made for her worst nightmare. She stumbled around the edge of the room looking for somewhere, anywhere to sit down. Eventually, with a defeated sigh she made do with leaning against the wall and sliding down into a slump against the cool tile.

“Well, what do we have here? Do my eyes deceive me or is there a wilting rose against this wall?” a smooth male voice said, causing (Y/n) to lift her head to see who was speaking. The man before her was like none she’d ever seen before. So beautiful, so poised, everything about him just oozed sophistication. She stared at him dumbly for a long moment before she realized he’d been speaking to her. “Nah, I’m no rose. Wilting or otherwise but I appreciate the compliment” (Y/n) said with a weak laugh at the young man. “So do you use that line on all the girls you find slumped over against the wall at a party or am I just special?” she asked with another weak laugh. Really she just wanted to be left alone but she couldn't force herself to be rude to this pretty stranger no matter how hard she tried. “Please do not get the wrong idea, I am not one for idle flattery. When I give a compliment it is only because it is the truth that must be said” the stranger said suddenly dropping into a crotch before (Y/n) as he smiled toothily at her. If she wasn't suffering from how overwhelming everything at the party was she might have taken notice of how unnaturally pointy the young man’s canine teeth were. “Well sorry to disappoint you, but whatever you’re trying to do I’m not interested. I just want to find my friends and go home so i can sleep this awful party off” (Y/n) said with a shrug. “I’m sure there are plenty of other girls here you could work your magic on that’d be happy for the attention from a hottie like you” she added, the last part slipping out of her lips before she could stop it and getting her a chuckle from the stranger. “Well why don't I help you find your friends then?” the young man said grabbing (Y/n)’s wrists and pulling her to her feet as he also stood up. “No point arguing with me, I can't in good conscience leave such a pretty maiden to fend for herself” he declared firmly before she could open her mouth to protest. “By the way, I didn’t catch your name before” the stranger added as they began walking around the party looking for (Y/n)’s friends. “I didn’t give it to you, besides isn't it polite to give your own name before asking other people their names?” (Y/n) said sharply and received a light squeeze from the young man as he held her arm in his. “(Y/n), my name’s (Y/n). Now it's only fair that you tell me your name as well. I don't want my friends asking me about you later and only having cute blonde guy as my answer to them” she added reluctantly after a few moments of silence.

“(Y/n) what a pretty name for a pretty girl. As you said it is only fair that I give you my name in return” the stranger said coming to a sudden stop and cupping a hand to (Y/n)’s ear. “I am called Vil Schoenheit” he whispered before dropping his hand and resumed guiding the girl around the room as they continued the search for her missing friends. They didn’t have any luck, and eventually (Y/n) let out a sigh. “They must have gone home without me, damn” (Y/n) said with a huff of annoyance. “They were my ride home from this place, now I’ll have to get an uber or something” she went on pulling out her phone from her purse only to find it dead as a doornail. “That's weird, I could have sworn it was at 62% when we left for this party” she added after a moment feeling her stomach twisting anxiously. “I can take you home, fortunately I brought my own transportation to this event” Vil said with a grin. “Don’t try to make excuses, I don't mind helping out a pretty girl like you” he added once again, preventing (Y/n) from getting a chance to protest the decision he made. The girl reluctantly let herself be led outside into the back of a fancy looking car where Vil joined her after speaking to someone upfront for a moment. The car revved soft as it shifted into motion. (Y/n) felt her stomach twisting even tighter than before. The back seat was dark and she had no idea how close Vil was sitting to her until his arms were around her waist and he was pulling her into his lap. She tried to struggle against him, but his arms were like iron bars and she quickly ran out of energy to fight the position she’d been forced into. “You’re very pretty you know, and you smell delicious” Vil said in a low voice, his breath making the hair on the back of (Y/n)’s neck stand up. “So delicious, like a dash of confectioner’s sugar on a cookie” he added his teeth pressing lightly on the nape of the girl’s neck almost puncturing the flesh but not quite yet. Vil wanted to savor the moment, this delicate moment before he feasted on this foolish girl’s blood. Finally, he could wait no longer and dug in, drinking greedily.

(Y/n)’s neck felt like it was on fire, pain coursing through her system like a bolt of lightning as Vil consumed her blood as if he were enjoying a glass of fine wine. She tried to pull his arms off of her waist but if she had been weak before, the lack of blood made her as strong as a newborn baby. “Please, please it hurts! Please stop! It hurts so much” she begged pitifully still trying to get free of the vampire’s hold. “What do you mean it hurts?” Vil said softly, pulling away from her neck for a moment to lick over the puncture wounds he’d made with his fangs. “If it hurts, it’s because you’re struggling. If you’d just hold still like a good girl perhaps it wouldn’t hurt as much” he scolded before digging his fangs into the crook of her neck now. (Y/n) went limp, giving up the fight, and was rewarded with a hand being run gently through her hair. The petting helped take her mind of the biting and bloodsucking. It didn't get rid of the intense pain by any stretch of the imagination, but it was something pleasant she could focus on instead to help distract herself from the horrifying experience. Eventually, Vil was satisfied and pulled away from her neck again but did not stop petting her hair as he began peppering kisses across the uninjured side of her neck. “There, there you did a good job (Y/n). A very good job indeed, if your blood wasn't so divine I might be tempted to let you go as a reward for being so compliant. However, I think I will be keeping you on as my new bloodbag” Vil said softly nuzzling (Y/n)’s collarbone and sighing contentedly. “As my bloodbag you’ll be at my beck and call, if you try to fight me I will be forced to punish you” he added with a dangerous ring to his voice. “In return for performing this service to me, you will be well cared for at my mansion and never want for anything ever again. Do I make myself totally clear?” Vil said curtly as he wound his fingers tightly into (Y/n)’s hair as she weakly nodded her consent to the arrangement. “Good we should be home in a little while, you may sleep until we get there if you so wish” he added softly. (Y/n) let her eyes fall shut, she’d deal with this supernatural mess after she got some sleep…

THE END

#Yandere Twisted Wonderland #Twisted Wonderland #Yandere Vil Schoenheit #Vil Schoenheit

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icyharrington · 5 years

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Is It Wrong?- The Epilogue (Michael Langdon X Reader)

HELLO ALL!!! here is the long-awaited epilogue to finally finish the is it wrong series. i sincerely hope y’all enjoy this, and i am SO sorry for taking forever to write this!! i had some kind of mental block stopping me, but i finally forced myself to sit down and JUST DO IT. i wanna thank every last one of you who’ve supported this series of filth, especially the ones who’ve been here since the beginning. when i published that first chapter, i never realized just how much joy this fucked up little story would bring into my life. y’all are the best.

plot: it’s been 5 years since your whirlwind fuckfest-turned-romance with your stepbrother, michael langdon, came to its angst-filled end. life is good, but there’s just one thing missing.

warnings: fuckboy michael, fem!Reader, post-high school au, fluff, some angst, cursing/talk of sexual shit/yanno the deal lmao. no smut..... IM SORRY LOL IT JUST DIDN’T FIT INTO WHAT I HAD PLANNED!!! but i hope y’all still like it regardless lmao

word count: 4k

tag list*: @alicecooper19 @wroteclassicaly @ritualmichael @sloppy-little-witch-bitch26 @trelaney @avesatanormalpeoplescareme @kissydevil @sloppy-wrist @michael-langdon-appreciation @ccodyfern @sojournmichael @starwlkers @theinevitableprophecy @divinelangdon @maso-xchrist @space-princesssss @ahslangdon101 @isabellaserpentiawesson @stupidocupido @bademliimagnum @nana15774 @urlocalgothb @hexqueensupreme @gold-dragon-slayer @pr1ncessd1e @langdonsboots @langdonstrash @isoldedax @fckinsupreme @hisgirlwonder @venusxxlangdon @obsessivenostalgicbaby @noelle525 @kleinegamerin @lambofcairo @kiiteiru @littledemondani @beriveri @dcvilrising @grossgayartist @featherpool-852 @discocalico @cryptid-coalition @nu-tt @diamcndscarred @chocolateandhorror @michaelsfrenchtoast @ms-mead @sarcasticbxtch20 @ringpop-poppy @coollangdon @s7venwonders @imjustasadhoe @melodylangdon @bahsasblog @codycrazy @sojournmichael @perfect-ginger-maniac @baphomet-wears-gucci @bigstudentpatrolbonk @langdonsgothgf @jazzcowgirl @a-n-t-s @blind-daydream @langdonsblood @ritualmichael @myluciferiscody @fentycoven @gracebtw @bongwaternation @fckinsupreme @thewalkingtrenchcoats @king-of-mischief-and-bitchez @hoseokchild @witchywcmans @satanicbimbo @mallorys-winter @langdonskillerqueen @anantarora @aradevil @anemia-doll @muralskins @funtomimagines @mrssgtjamesbuckybarnes @our-mrlangdon @lotsofhunny @sevenwonderwitch @horrorstreet @kpopmademedo-it @naughtygranger @codyshands @krazycags01 @skullag

*if you asked to be tagged but aren’t on my tag list, i apologize!!! some blogs just can’t be tagged for some reason :(

You looked out the window and onto the rain-slick city streets, captivated by the way the rows of glowing neon signs reflected in the puddles, and you smiled.

Everything was as it should be.

Sandwiched between your two best friends in the back of the Uber, you couldn’t help but feel a rush of pride at the thought that you’d made it. You’d graduated college, managed to land your dream job, and, most recently, you’d finally been able to get yourself a spacious apartment in the city you loved most. It was the first time in your life that you’d ever felt truly in control of things.

Tonight was a celebration of those accomplishments; you and your friends had arranged to go to the bars by your new apartment that night and get shitfaced like you were college freshmen again, just enjoying each other’s company. You could already feel the warmth of the shots of Fireball you’d pregamed with earlier that night, cheeks flushed and rosy. Life was good.

The Uber screeched to a halt in front of the bar, your friends’ resulting drunken squeals drowning out the rap song that drifted loudly through the speakers. You grinned, waving a quick goodbye to the bored-looking driver before dispensing onto the street with your group, one by one.

Through the glass windows, you saw a lively scene; it seemed as though you’d chosen the perfect night to go out. The bar was dim, lit with overhead lights that shifted from color to color, a band stationed at the stage in full action. People danced, drank, sang; you could see couples making out sloppily in booths. This was going to be a fun night.

Outside the bar stood two skinny boys, dressed casually in ripped jeans and band t-shirts, who you were nearly certain were underage. They chatted as they smoked cigarettes, seemingly unfazed by the chilly breeze and light drizzle coming down over their mops of overgrown hair. One of them, the lighter-haired one of the pair, almost reminded you of…

“Hey ladies,” said one, blowing cigarette smoke from the corner of his mouth with a smirk. You could feel his alcohol-glossed eyes travel up and down your body, drinking in your fishnet-clad legs and prominent curves, accentuated in a maroon leather miniskirt. “You trying to have some fun?”

At this, you and your friends erupted into giggles, long fingernails gripping at each other’s forearms as you fought to balance yourselves.

“Isn’t it past your bedtime?” your friend said, resulting in a fresh wave of laughter.

Ignoring the boys’ scowls, you continued inside, sighing in relief at the warmth, which was only reinstated by the slew of sweaty bodies flowing throughout the building. The music was loud- perhaps not the most accurate in terms of pitch, but it was certainly good enough to dance to, and, luckily, you were in a dancing mood.

“You shoulda gave them your number,” your friend joked as you made your way to the bar, her voice raised so you could hear her above the noise. “When’s the last time you’ve gotten laid?”

You rolled your eyes. Ever since you’d broken up with your ex a year before, your friends had been nagging you to engage in causal hookups to help you get over him- they’d tried setting you up with any single man they could get their hands on, and had even gone as far as creating a Tinder page in your name. In all honesty, you had no interest in men at the moment; you were far more focused on your career, which was your top priority for now. Sure, you got horny sometimes, but wasn’t that what vibrators were made for? You were twenty-two. You had your whole life ahead of you to find some good dick.

Besides, most men you’d been with in the past could hardly satisfy you, so it seemed almost better to do things on your own. The only man you’d ever actually enjoyed being with was…

You flinched, pained by your second reminder of a certain blond-haired fuckboy that night. Even now, nearly five years since the last time you’d seen him, it hurt to think of his name.

“Three Sex on the Beaches, please,” your friend said to the bartender, before turning back to look at you. “Sounds like something you’re in need of.”

“Shut up,” you mumbled, drumming your fingers on the wooden surface as you turned to watch the band, which seemed to be some kind of punk-pop-rock hybrid, the members decked in leather and chains.

“You know I’m right,” your friend shouted, running her manicured fingernails through her hair as she craned her neck to look at the bartender over her shoulder. “Hey, the bartender’s pretty cute. And he even kind of seems like your type.”

You glanced back disinterestedly, hardly breaking your attention from the band to look at the man in question. Right now his back was to you, and he appeared to be talking to some drunk girls as he fixed your drinks; his blond hair was slightly outgrown, fraying out in unkempt curls at the base of his neck, toned bicep flexing under the thin shield of his form-fitting white t-shirt as he reached for a bottle of peach schnapps.

From what you could see, he did seem like your type- almost too much so, it almost starting to creep you out how similar this guy looked to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. You looked away.

“Oh yeah, he is cute,” your other friend said, leaning her elbows back on the bar. “(Y/n), you should pull some moves on him.”

You groaned. “Why are you guys so obsessed with getting me fucked?”

“Because, (y/n). You’re gonna get cobwebs down there if you don’t get your shit clapped soon. Eventually you’re just gonna forget how to fuck altogether,” your friend said, her voice earnest.

“Yeah,” agreed your other friend. “Your vag is gonna close up like a pierced ear when you forget to put in earrings for too long.”

“Three sex on the beaches?” came an amused-sounding voice from behind you, and within the first few syllables of the man’s sentence, you could feel your throat start to close up. You knew that voice anywhere, raspy and rich and warm, even five years since you’d last heard it. But… how? Michael was in California. It had to be some kind of doppleganger working behind the bar. But damn, that was uncanny…

You were almost afraid to turn around, doing so reluctantly, too nervous to care about the fact that you were gnawing all your vampy lipstick off your bottom lip.

“Yeah, that’s ours,” said your friend brightly, accepting her glass, and you decided to rip the band-aid off, forcing your body to turn all the way around.

“So you ladies like sex on the be- (Y/N)?”

Holy ever loving mother of christ. It was him. It was actually. Fucking. Him.

There behind the bar, with plump lips agape and saucer-wide baby-blue eyes, was Michael Langdon, looking almost exactly the same as you remembered. Now, though, most of the baby fat had gone from his face, with one silver earring dangling from his left ear and stubble shadowing his even-more-defined (if that was even possible) jawline. Your mouth went dry, opening and closing as you racked your brain for something to say, heart racing so quickly in your chest you thought you might drop dead at any moment.

“You guys know each other?” your friend asked after several seconds of silence, stretching past you to exchange a glance with your other friend, an immaculately-drawn eyebrow poised in concern.

“Uh- yeah. We, um. Michael, why are you here?” The words didn’t come out exactly the way you’d planned for them to, but his presence had you tongue-tied. In a matter of seconds, you felt like you were eighteen again, broken-hearted and in love and overflowing with red-hot hormones all at once.

“I- (y/n), why are you here?” You could tell that Michael’s lips were beginning to creep into a smirk, and your stomach dipped.

“I just moved to the city,” you said, gripping the edge of the bar and breathing slowly to try and calm yourself. You’d fantasized about finding yourself in this very situation so many sleepless nights before (not that you’d ever admit it), but never had you really expected for something like this to happen. This had to be some sort of profound universe-aligning moment of fate or something, because this was all way too fucking weird to be a coincidence. “I got a job near here. I thought you were in California?”

Michael shook his head with a shrug, sliding your drink across the bar towards you as your friends watched on with quiet fascination. “Haven’t lived there since- damn, has it been three years now? Yeah, I kind of dropped out of college.”

Not really surprising, you thought, relaxing a bit as you lifted your drink to your lips. Michael never had really struck you as a college type.

“So how’d you end up here?” you asked through a wince. The taste of vodka was strong on your tongue even despite the compensating ingredients of your drink, and you still hadn’t managed to get used to the taste of hard liquor even after four years of college.

“Well, I ended up meeting this girl at a party and we became like, boyfriend and girlfriend or whatever,” he said with a half eye-roll, as if he was too cool to admit to something as sensitive as being in a relationship. “But she was in college and I was like, in a band, which didn’t really end up working out, and then she graduated and got a job offer here in the city.”

You licked your lips, picturing Michael as the front man of a rock band, pushing sweaty strands of blond hair back from his forehead as he gripped a microphone with one calloused hand. If only he’d had the talent to match with the look.

“So I was still living with my mom and I needed an excuse to move out, so… I moved with her.” He gave a nonchalant shrug, shirt pulling up slightly at the hem and exposing a sliver of his smooth, firm torso; you were almost ashamed that your mouth began to water.

You tried to ignore the inkling of- jealousy, was it? No, not jealousy, that word was far too harsh for what you were feeling- surrounding the idea that Michael had moved here for a girl, and you went to wash it away with another sip of alcohol. It’d been years. You needed to get over yourself.

“So you live with her now?” you asked coolly, or as coolly as you could manage, looking down into the muddy-organgey abyss of your Sex on the Beach. Your friends, having apparently picked up on the fact that you were in the middle of a very important conversation with a very important person, had taken it upon themselves to join the small crowd surrounding the stage, leaving the two of you alone.

“Fuck no. She ended up fucking my best friend. But I already had this job and I liked the scenery so I stuck around. Wasn’t like there was anything better waiting for me in California.”

You quirked an eyebrow. “Now you know how I felt when you fucked (b/f/n).”

“Oh come on, give me a break. I was eighteen. And she had great tits.” He was leaning forward on his elbow now, resting his chin in the palm of his hand and grinning at you. “Admit it. You were just mad ‘cause you wanted to be the one to get the pipe.”

You snorted, trying not to think too deep into the warm, fuzzy feeling that was starting to flourish in the pit of your stomach and travel up towards your fluttering heart. “Oh, please. I used to fucking hate you.”

“Yeah, but you definitely didn’t hate fucking me,” he said with a wink, pink tongue darting out to wet his full bottom lip. “Though I definitely don’t blame you. I was a huge fuckboy.”

“Was?” you joked, taking another sip. Your eyes fell to a small tattoo on his inner forearm- a simple four-leafed clover, which you secretly thought looked sexy on him.

“Still got that smart mouth, I see,” Michael said, pale eyes glinting with a familiar mischievousness that you hadn’t realized you’d missed until right then. “There must be a lucky guy on the receiving end of all that attitude.”

“Nope,” you said flatly, flipping your hair over your shoulder and leaning forward, perhaps subconsciously hoping for your cleavage to become a bit more pronounced. “Men bore me these days.”

“Men? Or just all men who aren’t me?” He flashed you a devious sideways grin, and your mouth fell open at his boldness. “You’re looking pretty good tonight, baby sis.”

“Hmm. I don’t think that title is quite accurate anymore,” you retorted, hoping he couldn’t tell how flustered his usage of the old pet name had gotten you- apparently he still had that particular talent intact. “But you don’t look so bad yourself.”

“Yeah?” He glanced down at his shirt, which you only just now noticed was stained with some kind of brown liquor. “Not exactly the kind of thing you’d want to be wearing when running into your first love.”

Your heart stirred in your chest, and you could see Michael’s cool smile fade into a panicked wince. First love. You were Michael’s first love.

“First love, huh?” you said softly, tilting your head to one side to regard all of Michael’s handsome features at once. There’d always been some semblance of hope, deep in your belly, that Michael’s feelings for you all those years ago had surpassed simple lust and teenage hormones, but you’d of course had your doubts.

“Well, I mean. Not love, but like. You know.” Michael lifted one hand to scratch the back of his neck, and you could almost swear you saw a dusting of pink cross his porcelain cheeks. “Actually, I mean, yeah. You kind of were my first love. Kinda fucked up that my first love was my stepsister, but…”

“Well, you were my first love too. Unfortunately. You put me through hell, you know that?” You were only half-joking, idly twirling a strand of (h/c) hair around your finger, shifting your weight onto one leg to jut out your hip.

“God, yeah. I know. I suck.” He shook his head, loose waves falling to obscure his hooded eyes, and quickly he tucked it back behind his ears. “I really am sorry, you know.”

You shrugged. “We were just stupid, horny teenagers. It’s all good.”

“Yeah, I mean, but I never really stopped feeling guilty about the way I treated you. You gave me so many chances that I never deserved,” he said, leaning in close so he didn’t have to scream for you to hear him. “You were the perfect girl for me and I took you for granted.”

“Well, like I said…” you paused to take a swig of your drink, nursing your light intoxication, which had affected you to the point where the flavor of alcohol no longer made you cringe. “We were stupid teenagers. And I was very stupid to keep taking you back. Especially after that god awful Applebee’s date.”

He laughed, and your insides warmed at the sound, a light giggle that you only ever reserved for crushes unintentionally passing your lips. Why did this all feel so right?

“Look, I was broke, okay?” He moved in a little closer, crystal blue eyes locked with yours, and for a fleeting moment you thought- or, rather, hoped- that maybe he’d kiss you. Of course, you knew that such a prospect was only wishful thinking, but still you felt a sting of disappointment when he didn’t. “But I can promise you that if I took you out now, it wouldn’t be to Applebee’s.”

You took a second to respond, your clouded mind trying to figure whether or not that’d just been a proposition of sorts. Fuck it. “You might just have to prove that to me.”

“Oh yeah?” He smiled, this time a little softer than his usual devilish smirk. “A girl like you really wants some loser bartender to take her out?”

You cocked your head. “A girl like me?”

“Well, yeah. I mean, look at you.” He sighed, dragging his gaze up and down your body, which you had to admit looked pretty bangin’ in the outfit you’d chosen for tonight. “I mean, it goes without saying that you’re a fuckin’ ten. But you’re also smart. And successful.”

“How do you know I’m successful?” There was a tiny part of you that was eating this up, having the once-big-and-bad Michael Langdon practically crawl at your feet. “I never even told you what I do for a living.”

“I just assumed, since you said you just moved here, and we both know this city ain’t cheap. But I always knew you’d be successful. I mean, you’ve always known how to go after what you want.” he said. “Plus that outfit looks expensive as hell.”

At this, you struck a dramatic pose, having drank enough that you didn’t really care about making yourself look stupid. “Well, I wouldn’t say it was expensive as hell, but it definitely was worth a few paychecks.”

Michael clicked his tongue but chuckled, a longing expression apparent on his sculpted face. “You’re out of my league.”

You scoffed, slurping up the last of your drink. “I don’t believe in leagues. I mean, I pulled you when we were in high school, didn’t I?”

“You were out of my league then, too.”

“Oh, please.” Such a statement was enough to make you laugh out loud, perhaps a bit too loudly, but you thought that might’ve been propelled by the fact that you were pretty damn drunk now. You shoved the now-empty glass towards Michael, settling your hands on your hips. “You were like, the hottest guy in school.”

He raised a brow, a cocky half-smile stretching across his lips. “Oh yeah?”

You hiccuped (you always had been a lightweight). “Duh.”

He rolled his eyes good-naturedly, picking up your glass and bringing it off to the side to be cleaned. When he returned, he was brandishing a bottle of Windex and a stained washcloth, which was draped effortlessly over one broad shoulder. For a reason that could not, for the life of you, be explained, this view of Michael compelled you to squeeze your thighs together.

“You know,” said Michael slowly, spraying the wooden surface of the bar with chemical blue, “it’s kind of creeping me out how weird this all is. Like, us both ending up here. After five years.”

“I know, right?” Your eyes fell onto Michael’s veined hand, gripping the cloth that was now being used to rub down the bar, and you fought back the sudden urge to run your fingers over it. “I mean, it’s like, everything is aligning so perfectly. It has to mean something, doesn’t it?”

“Didn’t we say that to each other? That night on the beach right before our parents split? That if things were meant to work out, they would one day.” He sucked his lips into his mouth, taking in a sharp inhale and letting his head fall back towards the ceiling.

“It’s like everything’s finally fallen into place.” You breathed, allowing the amalgamated scent of liquor and cigarettes and cleaning chemicals to consume you, hips swaying back and forth to the mellow cover song the band was playing, imperfect but beautiful. “We’d be stupid not to try things again.”

“We would, wouldn’t we?” Michael said, tossing the rag off to the side once he’d finished his cleaning, the surface of the bar now so shiny you could practically see your reflection in it. “I promise this time, if you really want to give me a second chance, I won’t fuck things up. I’ll treat you how you should’ve always been treated.”

There was something about the look in his eyes that made you believe him.

From the crowd by the stage came a chorus of voices, most off-key, as they began to sing along to the band’s cover song, which you were certain you’d heard before, but couldn’t quite place when.

And all that is now

“Hey, I love this song,” Michael said suddenly, as if it hadn’t just been playing for the last several minutes, “fuck, this brings me back to high school.”

You wondered if he still chewed cinnamon gum, remembering the sweet spicy scent of his hot breath on your throat, late at night in the back of his cluttered sports car, the dashboard lights illuminating your half-dressed bodies. You wondered if he still played video games with those ridiculous oversize headphones, if he still liked to take midday naps, if he still fell asleep to South Park reruns.

Most of all, though, you wondered about the things you’d never witnessed, all the things you’d missed over the past five years.

And all that is gone

“Do you still chew cinnamon gum?” you asked abruptly, too drunk to worry about whether or not such a question was weird to ask.

He wiggled his eyebrows, reaching into the back pocket of his torn black skinny jeans (god, he’d always looked so good in those) to retrieve a crushed pack of gum, CINNAMON printed in red lettering across the front.

“Hell yeah,” he said, pulling out a piece and tossing it to you. “That shit beats mint by far.”

You unwrapped the gum and popped it in your mouth, immediately flooded with memories the moment you began working into it with your back teeth.

And all that’s to come

He reached out to flip the foil wrapper over, smoothing out its creases before grabbing a black pen from next to the register. You watched through your dreamlike haze as he jotted down a series of numbers in crooked, loopy handwriting, his tongue poking from the corner of his mouth in concentration. Underneath the phone number he wrote something else, in bold capitals, turning the paper around and sliding it towards you with a wry grin.

666-425-0493

LET’S TRY THIS AGAIN

You took the paper, folding it up and shoving it deep into your skirt pocket, inadvertently sinking your teeth into your lower lip. “Maybe I’ll call you sometime, big bro.”

For a fraction of a second, he landed a glance on your chest, lips twitching upwards just slightly at the corners. “Oh, I’ll be posted up until you do.”

“How about another Sex on the Beach?” you said, even though you were drunk enough on Michael’s presence as it was; it felt like you were floating in the blackness of outer space all while rolling with the soft, turning waves of the ocean, and you couldn’t help but want to feel this way forever.

And everything under the sun is in tune

“Coming right up, ma’am,” came Michael’s teasing reply, making you squirm; your eyes fell shut as you allowed the band’s blaring drum and bass to swallow you whole, swaying aimlessly to the rhythm, your head lolling back and forth.

The music was loud enough to drown out your thoughts, and the sound only increased as the song came to its powerful end, your teeth chattering with adrenaline as an electric chill made its way up your spine.

But the sun is eclipsed by the moon

When you opened your eyes, Michael was back in front of you, and all but the colorful overhead lights had dimmed; the entire bar was potent with color, Michael’s angular features appearing so much softer now, cast with bright purple, then blue, then a shade of pink so vivid it looked almost otherworldly.

Your eyes connected with his for what must’ve been the thousandth time in all the months you’d known him, but you felt, deep in your bones, that this was really only the first.

You had a good feeling about this.

#michael langdon #michael langdon x reader #michael langdon smut #cody fern #american horror stoy #ahs apocalypse #apocalypse #high school au #ahs smut #ahs fanfic #michael langdon fanfiction #michael langdon fanfic #ahs fanfiction #mine

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manifestoonmoralmanlove · 5 years

Text

Soulless Riffing: Brainless Ch. 2

I got a supernatural action/romance book series as a gift that’s just riddled with stuff that I hate….and as a steampunk Victorian London action romance story filled with werewolves and vampies…it’s yeah gonna be easy to poke fun at.

I just want to say, it’s totally cool if you like this story or ones like it! It’s certainly a better caliber than a lot of what I make fun of….however…I can’t help but want to make fun of it.

Over here for the 1st chapter

SO FUCK IT HERE GOES!

Chapter 2

An Unexpected invitation FOR ME TO RANT ABOUT EXPOSITION!

Before I get into the meat of this chapter, allow me a bit of ranting time about some exposition we get in both chapter 1 and 2 here.

Even though Alexia was told she’s a rare and super cool SOULLESS when she was 6 years old. NOBODY IN HER FAMILY knows she’s Soulless. And I’m sitting here like…

????????????????????????????????????

There’s no fucking way any 6 year old can keep the secret that they have cool powers for longer than 10 minutes. Especially if they weren’t told it was something to keep quiet about, and especially, ESPECIALLY if you’re telling a girl who grows up to be an out-going woman who’s confident about defending herself.

It’s as if there is some dramatic reveal on the horizon where her family finds out and is mean to her for being born BADLY.

SPEAKING OF BEING BORN BADLY this bit of characterization burns my biscuits a big one.

Alexia is considered unfuckable for a few reasons.

1.) Big Nose, face isn’t considered traditionally pretty. – Okay that’s a good addition

2.) She’s too STRONG-WILLED – Okay sure

3.) She’s half Italian.

Woah hold up there…

Sorry, not sorry, but I hate this cowardly, cynically pandering horseshit.

Can that make sense in this pseudo-bullshit historical setting? Sure. But we also have fucking werewolves and vampires. The fact that they chose for her ~lower status~ to be tied to the fact that she’s A DIFFERENT KIND OF CAUCASIAN is deliberate and pathetic. They author wants to pander to women who feel like they’re…

“NOT LIKE OTHER GIRLS” but at the same time don’t want to risk the book not selling if HEAVEN FUCKING FORBID there was a BLACK AND/OR FAT AND/OR TRANS AND/OR LIVES WITH A DISABILITY woman on the cover. It’s just pandering to that extra shitty part of white people that’s like, “I’M A SECOND CLASS AMERICAN CITIZEN BECAUSE MY HERITAGE IS IRISH AND A LONG TIME AGO THE IRISH WERE TREATED SHITTY!”

Were the Irish and the Italians treated shitty in historical contexts?

Oh absolutely!

Problem is this woman published a Victorian styled book that’s full of steam punk, yiffable supernatural vampires, in 2009. When you write it in the modern era and it’s full of fantasy bullshit and you want to make commentary about discrimination and prejudice? Don’t try to jam that in with a leading woman who’s an upperclass, straight, able-bodied, neruotypical, white, skinny, cis-woman but like THE BAD KIND OF WHITE!

Is it a book written from a problematic perspective? Not necessarily, but it’s fucking cowardly and you can get the hell out of my face with that gutless trite.

I have a feeling this is going to be an on-going theme too. People being discriminated against EVEN THOUGH THEY’RE COOL! This chapter already implies that Vampires, Werewolves, Scottish People and YES even Scientists (for reasons) are discriminated against even though ALL OF THE ABOVE are well represented in the upper echelons of high society.

Can you be rich and respected but still be discriminated against? Yes, of course, but…it’s very hard for me to picture any of these groups as hugely oppressed when they’re dripping in money and good social standing. I’m so dreading the scene where somebody says something blatantly and maliciously racist about her powerful, wealthy werewolf boyfriend and Alexia stands up and GIVES THEM WHAT FOR cause she TOO knows what racism feels like cause a dude she asked out once was like, “Eww ur half-Italian no way lawl.”

I’m white, but Jesus Christ, fucking white people.

So with a page of me bitching about exposition out of the way….Alexia, her mother, her 2 half-sisters, and her step-father are all gossiping it up at the breakfast table. And boy howdy is it apparent what the author and by extension, what she thinks her audience would find shitty.

YES YOU GUESSED IT! Her younger half-sisters are

PRETTY BLONDE GIRLS!

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH HOW COULD THEY!?!?!??!?!?

But they do have the negative trait of being SHALLOW!

Yes Alexia stand in judgment of those women who care about how they look. Let’s ignore how every outfit you don, is lovingly described in detail, and that there were at least 3 separate situations last chapter where you fussed about how you looked.

Just to be clear, I’m not saying that there’s anything wrong with the author happily describing elaborate, Victorian outfits, or a woman fussing over her looks. I’m saying it’s bullshit that she snidely calls them shallow and insipid from atop her ~NOT LIKE OTHER GIRLS~ throne while engaging in the same fucking behavior.

GO TO HELL ALEXIA!

So,

There’s an article in the paper about the dead vampire but there is no mention of Alexia in it. When asked if she knew anything about it she derails into huffing about how she wished she said more mean shit to Lord Macaron. When like…I’m sorry? You both said some sassy stuff, but HONESTLY? You violently killed a man at a ball, and got out of that REALLY FUCKING EASY, and while Alexia insulted Macaron to his face the worst he said to her was she was as covert as a sledgehammer and immediately apologized for it. (BTW, he said this in response to her DEMANDING to be given a job that doesn’t exist but she will get one like it in t-minus 5 chapters.)

Shouldn’t you be…I don’t know…a bit more concerned that a mysterious man attacked you last night, and there could be more like him out there RIGHT NOW rather than you didn’t have enough witty one-liners on hand? Get over yourself Alexia.

So let’s settle a bit.

She goes out huffing on a walk with her Bff Ivy Hisselpenny to calm herself down.

Even if Ivy is also an outcast due to voluntarily wearing SILLY HATS! I’m calling it now she is a cinnamon roll that must be protected from Alexia’s “I’m best girl” narrative. May I say I find it a gross misuse of time to use a paragraph to explain the difference in French/English Fashion by their introduction but spend 2 words, “Hideous bonnet” on describing the silly hat? FOR SHAME!

Thankfully Alexia doesn’t’ incessantly tease poor Ivy…yet. On their walk they are stopped by Mable Dair who tells Alexia her Vampire Matriarch, Countess Nadasdy, wishes to see her.

Everything about that situation screams bad fucking news for her. Again, thankfully, Alexia has enough brains to try to determine HOW BAD that situation could be.

So she sees token gay and vampire friend Lord Akeldama. The author makes no qualms about characterizing him as the floucniest priss that ever ponced a sissy. Now, I’ll confess, I have a guilty pleasure for fictional gay stereotypes that bleed into problematic territory.

EH-HEM!

Yet Lord Akeldama is not doing it for me. It might be the fact that since this is kinda Young Adult territory that you can’t be subtle. But I can’t help but feel condescended to with the tons of IMPLIED nods to how gay he is. I’d almost rather she just come out and say, “THIS MAN IS SOOOOOOOOOOOO GAY…HE IS A DICK WITHIN A COCK WITHIN A PENIS! HE’S LIKE A TURDUKEN BUT IT’S A DICK-COCK-IS!” Instead I’m tapping my fingers going, “Oh this new line of dialog now makes it the 67th new cutsey flower-based nickname he’s calling Alexia by! Thanks cause, I missed all the previous 66 of them!”

To be honest, I might be being a bit too judgmental here. Like with all things I love a lot, I can be a bitter opinionated bitch about what I consider good and bad versions of it. So anyway Akeldama doesn’t have much to add besides

“Create more sexual tension with that Hunky werewolf wiener”

BOY HOWDY AM I LOOKING FORWARD TO MORE SEXY AND ROMANTIC DIALOG LIKE…

“UR A BIG STINKY FART-FACE!”

“I KNOW WHAT YOUA RE BUT WHAT AM IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII? NEH!”

Say something Nice Faps:

Lord Akeldama being interested in Alexia makes some sense due to her soulless ability. The author makes a point about how he likes holding her hand and feeling human. So even if Alexia is insufferable or nothing special otherwise it makes sense that this vampire would enjoy her company for that at least.

They describe Mable as both chubby and very good looking. CAUSE TURNS OUT YOU CAN BE BOTH!

As I said, Alexia at least has enough brains to get some info before driving straight into the fire here.

#brainless #soulless #riffing

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