#every wallows song is brilliant

[hyperloverofhyperfixations]

Currently watching tour footage of the Model Tour from fans (shoutout to people who filmed the show they attended and uploaded it on YouTube - i love you dearly)

and i love it when Cole does the drumstick hit to represent "1..2..3..4" and I can't tell what's coming next.... like is it pictures of girls?? I don't want to talk?? treacherous doctor?? Surprise me🤪

[writers-advocate]

think | j.w.

description: you’ve known john for years. he went to you for sanctuary during the events of… well, everything. now that he’s gone, you wallow in your sorrows [song fic]

cw: angst, grief, drinking, close call assault

go ahead, you’re taking me down now

you perk up ever so slightly when you recognize the next song, vision spinning with the sudden movement, and you hum. “woah.”

give me give me give me give me what you don’t know

the bourbon in your glass swirls along with the movements of your wrist and a soft sigh escapes you, thinking of the bottle he’d left behind. a gift for christmas years ago, and you smile as you remember how your friend had scolded him for it.

how you’d shared two glasses just months ago.

the remnants of it are long gone now, but not before giving you the brilliant idea to come here and continue drowning your sorrows.

go ahead, take me all out now

get this, get this into your game

he’s been sitting at your side for at least an hour now, and you haven’t noticed. you’ll get yourself killed if you don’t pay more attention, he thinks with a grimace.

maybe someone’ll put me out of my misery when i leave, you think with a drunken giggle.

“you got me in a heady drop

i never wanna come off”

he can faintly hear your voice through the hum of the crowd and he realizes he’s leaning closer, back still turned to you. out of the corner of his eye, he sees your face screw up slightly when a familiar cologne invades your senses through your inebriated haze. tears form on your waterline and he curses himself for forgetting every word in his vocabulary. “… just like him,” you mumble to yourself.

you got me with your beat-up bluff

i never wanna come up

images of all kinds claw their way into your mind and your eyes squeeze shut, clutching your glass. him, broken and bloody on your far too small couch. his hands dwarfing the same tools you used at work. that smile that seemed to make it’s way onto his face more often by the last time you’d had a calm night.

his eyes staring back at you in the brown liquor.

think of me, i’ll never break your heart

think of me, you’re always in the dark

you laugh again, bitterly this time, and push away from the bar suddenly, downing the rest of your drink with a click of your tongue and stumbling away from him. he gets up to follow, watching as another man does the same. you’ll get yourself killed, he thinks again, eyes sharper now.

i am your light, your light, your light

think of me, you’re never in the dark

the narrow hall leading to the back door and the restroom is a little brighter, and you thank your lucky stars the small room is empty as you shut the door behind you. you stare at yourself in the mirror and scrub away the fresh trails of tears, huffing at the sight.

“right. that’s why i don’t drink this shit. ‘specially for these… these occasions.”

now that i’m making this align

let me let me let me let me in the unknown

a loud bang makes you jump and a pair of unfamiliar eyes meet yours through the dingy mirror, the door shaking on it’s hinges as it bounces off the wall before he goes to shut it. you go for your knife, he goes for your hair, but before either one of you can go through with your plan, another set of hands yanks the man back out into the hall.

there is no escape, so you sit there against the sink, open blade now in hand as you listen to their scuffle. it’s barely heard over the music until there’s a light dragging against the wall, then a thud. the knife is at the ready when the door opens, but nothing could prepare you for that familiar gaze to meet yours.

you got me in your open hand

i never wanna come back

“… i drank myself to the point of hallucination,” comes your slur, face twisting into an almost delirious smile at just how ridiculous the situation seems. he grabs your hand and for some reason, you don’t fight back while he drags you past the limp body crowding the hall, and out into the back alley. instead, you find yourself staring up at him, eyes shining with tears again, but they don’t fall, even as your knuckles rap against the side of your head harshly. “hey, i wanted t’stop thinkin about him. i don’t wanna see him. c’mon really?”

he takes your other hand in his and pulls you closer, forcing your attention back on him. he doesn’t know what to say. maybe his actions will speak for themselves.

a jougan that you never found

you know it’s gonna come out

you blink quickly, then speak again, clearly growing more emotional. “i don’t wanna cry anymore. m’tired of crying for him. he’s not… you’re not comin back so why m’i doin this to myself? why m’i seein you everywhere?”

he goes to say something but a slow shake of your head stops him in his tracks, and you’re able to pull one hand out of his grasp to clumsily cover his mouth. “you wanted t’be my knight in shining armor? fine, you get to take care’a me for the night. c’mon.”

it’s his turn to be pulled along, and he is once again stunned into silence. you’re really going to get yourself killed.

i think i deserve to play pretend. just one more night. you don’t let go of his hand while you walk.

think of me, i’ll never break your heart

think of me, you’re always in the dark

you must know deep down, he thinks. you’d fallen into your old routine like nothing when you reached your new, albeit shitty apartment. the dog shadowed him from the moment they walked in, whining until he gave him the affection he craved. it made you laugh and he suddenly realized he’d missed the sound. the genuine joy in it.

he tried to help you out of your outfit, the same little black number you’d worn to say goodbye. but now you’re in bed, half unzipped and unbuttoned and clearly struggling to stay awake. your fingers are once again laced with his, and you allow yourself to fall fully into your dream with a mumble, “don’t go this time…”

i am your light, your light, your light

think of me, you’re never in the dark

his fingertips brush your temple as he pushes your hair out of your face, cupping your cheek when he’s sure you won’t wake. “… i won’t.”

a/n: been a little bit since i wrote about my sweet assassin <3

[cleoselene]

🎶✨️when u get this u have to put 5 songs u actually listen to, publish. Then, send this ask to 10 of your favorite followers ✨

oh yay thanks for sending me this one, I loooove music asks!

gonna pick the songs that are my current obsessions. I definitely go through phases with songs.

Tori Amos - Bang

2018's Native Invader was an album I 100% slept on (mostly because someone who is now an ex-friend really hated it and heard it before me and told me how much it sucked and like the loser follower I tend to be, I took her word for it and only gave the album a cursory listen) and now I am discovering how fucking brilliant it is. Tori has 17 original studio albums, Native Invader is #16, and long past the point when her annoying "fans" claimed she'd lost her touch. But they're wrong. She is still vividly creating even while turning 60 next month -- at this point so many musicians have stopped writing and just go tour the hits. We are BLESSED as fans of hers that she is so prolific. Another way in which she reminds me of Taylor -- both of them seem to have this compulsion to be constantly creating music and have scores of unpublished songs because like, writing songs is what I imagine both of these ladies do with like 90% of their time. Native Invader is a politically-charged album, written in the wake of Trump's election, and "Bang" is about the violent hatred Trump and his election fostered against immigrants. It's really powerful and structured gorgeously. Getting this album on vinyl changed everything for me, because vinyl really allows the instrumentation to shine.

hahaha I'm rambly so putting the other four behind a cut. HOPE YOU DON'T REGRET INVITING ME TO WAX POETIC ABOUT MUSIC

2. Taylor Swift - Maroon

I have been living a Maroon Appreciation Life since October 21, 2022. This is more or less tied for me as the best song that Taylor has written with Jack (tied with Getaway Car for me) and I really wish had been put in the main Eras setlist, because I think the full instrumentation and staging and costuming and lighting for a Maroon performance would have been just 🔥🔥🔥

It is, much to my surprise, my actual favorite song on Midnights. And this surprises me because i am SUCH a ho for when Taylor writes with Aaron Dessner, and don't get me wrong, the Dessner tracks on Midnights on my favorite. It's the Dessner collabs and Maroon that MAKE this album iconic for me. I don't love the production on all of the songs, but the production on Maroon is just PERFECT. It's lush, it's got that sadgirl dance music vibe that I live for. Mark Ronson has a sadgirl dance album called Late Night Feelings that I'm a huge fan of and Maroon reminds me of a track from that album. Just, this smooth electronic vibe that would play well in a club but also plays well as sitting in your room alone wallowing in sad music. Is it my favorite Taylor song of all of them? No, that's still ivy, but Maroon is in the top tier. Like, if all the songs on Midnights are drowning and I can only save one, I'm saving Maroon. That's a real fuckin' legacy.

3. Garth Brooks - Much Too Young (To Feel This Damn Old)

goddammit Garth, i can't drop a youtube or even a spotify link to this one because of your dumb exclusivity contracts. that being said, I recently switched from spotify to amazon music (bought a vinyl from amazon, they gave me 3 free months of amazon music as a gift, and well, why pay 12 bucks a month for spotify when I'm getting it for free from amazon music? And even after the three months it only goes up to like 8 dollars or something, AND, it's Garth Brooks' exclusive streaming platform. SO NOW I CAN LISTEN TO GARTH AGAIN.

My favorite thing about Garth (aside from his music, which is just excellent and classic and such beautifully crafted classic Americana) is that every few years the ignorant conservative segment of the country music fanbase re-discovers anew that Garth is, in fact, as the Fox News pundits say while clutching pearls, "woke." They need to be reminded that he wrote "We Shall Be Free" all the way back in 1990 with lyrics that very explicitly praise racial diversity and support queer people.

At the moment the dummies are mad because Garth won't stop serving Bud Light in his bar, has said transphobes are not welcome, and his reaction to conservatives putting down DEI programs is to say "Diversity and inclusion are what I am all about," essentially. Garth is old school country in the vein of Willie and Dolly and Emmylou and Loretta, just younger, sneaking in at the tail end of the old school outlaw country when it was less about the sort of conservative shit-kickin that emerged in the 90-now and you had Willie Nelson doing Farm Aid and Dolly Parton giving books to all the kids in her state, and Johnny Cash singing for prisoners. Garth is so much more alike that crew even if they're not his generation, than he is with buffoons like Travis Tritt who were his actual contemporaries He's always been a real ally, his sister is a lesbian and let me tell you, as an 11 year old daughter of a lesbian in 1990 when a guy like Garth is singing GAY RIGHTS while you live in the pseudo-South of Florida? Big fuckin deal.

On top of that, his music's just gorgeous. Romantic in all the senses of the word. Conveying yearning in ways that make my chest ache. This song has resonated with me all my life, honestly, I've always felt older than my years, but especially now that I'm a sick person. It makes me cry.

Like my ultimate ultimate dream for Taylor Swift (Taylor's Version) is for one of her collabs on a vault track to be with Garth Brooks, because they are really respectively the biggest country stars of their generations, achieving that huge GLOBAL success that pulls in people who aren't even a fan of the country genre, simply by writing music that really appeals to people's hearts and souls. I love when I can tell a songwriter is a hopeless romantic, and Garth definitely is. There's a vulnerability and tenderness to his ballads especially.

4. Tori Amos - Digital Ghost

there's a lot of theories as to who this song is about, but I really honestly don't care about any of them. Tori songs are poetry more than lyrics, meant to be open to multiple interpretations, and really, no interpretation is necessarily right or wrong. Tori herself says this: she says that when she puts a song out into the world, it no longer belongs to her, and it becomes something different to every listener. She's talked about meeting fans who gush about a song and what it meant to them, and sometimes she's like, "yeah, absolutely, i was thinking the same thing too," but very often her reaction was also "huh. well. if that's how you see it, I'm glad it's useful to you!" She has acknowledged a lot of fans get meaning from her song that were never a part of her meaning, but she also acknowledges that it doesn't make the fans' meaning of a song less valid. Music is like that.

So do I really know what this song is about, specifically, or who? I've read the theories it's about Trent Reznor, a piece in conversation with NIN's Year Zero album, but idk about all of that. Could be true, could be bullshit. To me? The lyrics feel like Tori is singing TO me. I feel like the Digital Ghost. Actually really considered changing my tumblr url to some version of "digital ghost" that is available, but i hate changing my url because I get so confused when other people do it, hahah, but it's like. She sings of reaching out to someone, someone who seems more comfortable communicating with the world through the internet, through technology:

It started as a joke Just one of my lucks to see If somehow I could reach you So I swam onto your shores Through an open window Only to find you all alone Curled up with machines

and the song goes on to discuss the concept of a person fading away, becoming a ghost of a person more comfortable with machines than with flesh and blood people. It resonates for me on multiple levels. As an introvert, I do like to spend a lot of time alone with my machines. As someone whose dearest friends don't live geographically close, my machines allow me to have any communication at all with my loved ones. I spend so much of my time these days, with my stressed out, unhealthy MS and migraine brain, exhausted beyond belief by a trip to the grocery store, on low-dose chemo with a threadbare immune system so even if i wanted to go out more, it's literally not safe. So I don't go out to dinner and i don't go to baseball games as much and i get walmart grocery pick up so i don't have to walk around a store full of germs. Honestly a very very large part of the reason I sold my Eras tickets was because the thought of being around 80k people legit terrified me on a mental and physical level. It sucks. I wasn't always like this. But MS changed my life forever, and then Covid just magnified it all. I don't know that I'll ever be able to enjoy things like going out to eat anymore. I've always wanted to go on a cruise; now you couldn't pay me, I know I'd get so sick.

So i feel like a Digital Ghost. Curled up with my record player and my computer and my smart TV because they're safer, and the me I was has been fading away for some time now. I'm sounding more emo than I feel, hahah, because honestly sad songs are very therapeutic for me and help me process my own pain. Digital Ghost for me right now is helping me process something heavy, and for the umpteenth time in my life, I feel like Tori is my big sister holding my hand and helping me navigate this wild ride that is womanhood. And I find the achingly sad songs very comforting and cathartic. It's actually often really peppy songs that irritate me lol /is goth

5. Peter Murphy - I'll Fall With Your Knife

So. This is actually my favorite song of all time by anyone, and it has been for 25 years now. When I was 18 and had just moved out of the house and was a sweet little babygoth, I lived in Tampa and clubbed goth-style in Ybor City 4-5 nights a week. Get all gothed up from head to do and go dancing to dramatic and sad gothic/industrial and seeing more boys in dresses than an episode of RuPaul's Drag Race. It was my ritual, it was my church, it was my identity for several years. Putting on the costume (because well, it was. I'm a t-shirt and jeans and no-makeup person naturally. Putting on long black skirts and wearing corset tops and fishnets on my arms and caking on loads of make-up and shaping part of my hair into demonic horns made of coiled up braids while wearing my steel-toed Dr. Martens was a lot of stuff do to in order to get ready. I am not a prissy person by nature so spending an hour to doll up is something I find to be a choice honestly, but I thought the style was pretty and I LOVED the music.

Dancing was my favorite part. South Park's depiction of goth dancing is inaccurate and stupid, lol, and it's hard to explain, but it's prettier than that. And it's also a solo dance. You don't dance with other people, you're not grinding or leading someone else. You're connecting with the music on a pure level and it's about that musical connection, not about looking cute or hooking up. That being said, there was this guy who would dance at the club to all the same songs I liked to dance to and I thought he was sexy as hell. Should have realized a good dancer who is also a guy would be gay as the day is long, but Patrick and I became good friends after my thirsty hopes were crushed. Turns out, he had spent the same couple of months thinking I was a good dancer, too! On a platonic level, haha, because he was very much gay, but I liked that we were drawn to each other by something as human and joyous as dancing.

This song. This was the song that had Patrick and me dropping our drinks and bolting for the dance floor the second we heard the first opening note. It was OUR song. And we didn't dance with each other, because again: goth dancing is a solo venture. But we danced next to each other so many times and sang at the top of our lungs together, and never more so than to I'll Fall With Your Knife.

It's just a quintessential goth song. Forget Marilyn Manson, even back in 1996 I knew he was a poser making shit music and trying to pass it off as goth when it was just dumb shock rock that had none of the soul and spirit of real gothic/industrial, and also, tbh, was extremely derivative to the point of being plagiaristic. He was doing exactly what Skinny Puppy had been doing for decades, only Puppy did it much better and with less rape obsession. Brian Warner is a pervert obsessed with Nazis and subjugating and abusing women. Skinny Puppy was a band called that because they're sensitive dudes who love animals and their pet cause (no pun intended) is to stop animal experimentation, specifically vivisection. It makes me sad and angry that the world thinks of Brian fucking Warner as representative of the goths and industrial music, because gothic/industrial is a counterculture genre that challenges oppression. There's a reason Trent Reznor almost immediately regretted knowing the asshole.

But Peter Murphy? The lead singer of Bauhaus? Writing this achingly romantic song about love, goth style? This is what pulled the goth kids to the dance floor. And when it was played at full blast in the big club speakers it was just beyond beautiful. The flood does indeed wash all over you.

Well, if the birds can reach the sky To this land, I'll be with you 'Til the sun bursts from your side With my hands I reach to you Well, you think your chance is passing by Well, you blow your moon away I'll bleed like the reed Fall with your knife It's here, I'll be with you

fucking beautiful words. romance so lovely and scarlet and joyously melancholy.

Incidentally, there is another artist who I absolutely adore who also claims this as their favorite song of all time: Sarah McLachlan. She's a brilliant musician so that makes me feel like i got taste that we have the same favorite song ever lol

[granvarones]

i dreamed about my mother for the first time in a long time last night. waking from those all-too-real dreams used to leave me wallowing in the quicksand of regret over the loss of control over things we had no control of. but not this time. i spent the rest of the day watching shows she loved, like “murder she wrote” and “matlock.” i listened to the music she loved, like donna summer and the pointer sisters. and then i was reminded that my taste for all things queer can be traced back to her.

my mother loved divas. dionne, diana, patti, liza, and tina turner. my mother loved all these women because of the unwavering resilient energy they radiated. beyond their musical prowess and ability to set every stage on fire with their electrifying performances, even as a young music lover, i recognized that they were all an emblem of strength and inspiration – even if i could not communicate why and how. but i knew by watching my mother scream aloud during tina turner’s now legendary 1985 grammy performance, where she so fiercely walked down a staircase that looked as if it was ascending from heaven, that tina turner was the queen of queens. a queen of rock that reigned supreme.

my love for tina officially began upon the release of her single, “we don’t need another hero.” featured in the post-apocalyptic "mad max beyond thunderdome" motion picture starring mel gibson and tina herself, "we don't need another hero," and its accompanying music video captured my imagination in ways that no other diva did before or after. her striking woman warrior presence in a dystopian world refusing to wait for a savior, coupled with the song’s somber sonic tone and powerful lyrics, resonated with me as a queer kid who was ruthlessly teased in school and teased in family circles because of my mother’s struggle with addiction. the song was a kind of rallying cry because even at such a young age, i knew that saviors and messiahs were often simply fairy tales.

out of the ruins

out from the wreckage

i can't make the same mistake this time

we are the children

the last generation

we are the ones they left behind

“mad max beyond thunderdome” and “we don’t need another hero” were released in july 1985, just as the nuclear cold war era was coming to an end. the movie’s theme of communities attempting to rebuild in the aftermath of nuclear war appealed to moviegoers during a time when the cold war era was coming to an end after years of nuclear war between the us and russia. while there was a budding hope in the air of nuclear disarmament, Black and latinx communities were left behind just as the onslaught of the AIDS crisis and crack epidemic was annihilating us. our communities were left out of the vision of a peaceful world.

looking for something

we can rely on

there's got to be something better out there

love and compassion

their day is coming

all else are castles built in the air

tina’s brilliant vocal performance encapsulates her indomitable spirit and invites the listeners to be defiant in a crumbling world. and, for me, the most powerful and compelling part of the song at its climax when she powerfully sings, “all the children say!...” and the children’s choirs beautifully sing the song’s hook:

we don't need another hero

we don't need to know the way home

all we want is life beyond the thunderdome

decades after its release, "we don't need another hero" holds significance in history, pop culture, and my personal story. the song serves as evidence of not just the worlds my mother and myself survived but the new worlds built and rebuilt by those in our communities. it is a lesson of not needing heroes as much as we need each other. maybe that’s why my mother visited me in dreams. to remind me, this is one of the reasons why tina is queen. because her voice changed how we hear, see, feel, and experience the world.

all hail the queen.

rest in power, tina.

[secretfanficwrite]

With Or Without You (1/?)

Eddie Munson x Hopeless Romantic!Bestfriend!Reader

Next Part

Word Count: 2k Warnings: angst Summary: A Halloween party leaves you wallowing in your own self pity. But is it better to confess or continue suffering?

Author's Note: I saw this headcannon on tiktok that Eddie likes to dress as the devil for halloween and literally it would NOT leave my brain. But I also haven't done an angsty fic yet and I love angst so apologies in advance :(

Holy Diver by Dio played softly on the stereo in Eddie's bedroom, soft vibrations left your mouth as you hummed along to the cassette of his favorite songs, too concentrated to attempt the words.

Eddie sat at the head of his bed, legs spread out straight and his head leaned back, supported by a stack of pillows. Your thighs were spread apart as you straddled his lap, leaning chest to chest. His hands were secured on either side of you waist, finger shifting lightly ever so often, drawing a soft tapping noise as his rings clicked against each other.

Your white dress had ridden up slightly, bunched at the top of your thighs, revealing the boyshorts under your stockings. You had changed prior to now, not thinking much about how the makeup could've stained your outfit.

You were leaned over the boy, his eyes closed as you applied more black eyeliner to his lids. You bit your tongue as it poked out the side of you mouth lightly. His eyes were twitching ever so slightly, not used to the sensation of an object so close to his eyeball.

Lifting your hand off his cheek you paused, eyes raking down his face and over his round pink lips. He looked so serene, waiting for you to continue, relaxed in your presence.

"Why'd you stop humming? I was enjoying it." he teased, eyes still closed but a small smirk appearing on his face.

Your lips quivered as you stared at him before answering, admiring his beauty once more. "I-I think I'm done"

You began to lift yourself off his lap, dropping you head down to look where you were going.

His hands tightened on your waist, halting your movements and holding you in place. Your breath caught in your throat eliciting a barley audible gasp you're sure he missed.

His eyes finally opened, the dark doe eyes staring into yours. They appeared more intense then ever when surrounded by black and red making your heart thump loudly.

A smile graced his features and his eyes slowly traveled up and down your face. "How do I look?" excitement laced through his question with a hint of suggestiveness.

You offered a small smile back, too nervous to give anything else. "It looks great"

His hands loosened on your waist indicating you could now stand up. You crawled off his lap backwards, sitting side saddle at the foot of his bed as he stood.

He stopped in front of his mirror, grabbing his pants at the belt loops and hiking them up some before his hands went to his hair. He lifted off the red horns that held his bangs back before readjusting the headband on his head and fluffing the curls around them.

Your bottom lip was being tugged at by your teeth as you couldn't help your gaze lower and travel down his figure covered head to toe in black clothing.

It was Eddie's idea for this years Halloween costume. He came to you in the hallway one day, excited about his brilliant idea of dressing as the devil and you as an angel.

He had let you do the work with picking out clothes for him and finding the accessories, like the horns and the angel wings. Cheap costume props you found at a store in town.

Taking a deep breath and pulling your gaze from the tall boy you finally stood up, grabbing the gold and white wings from the nearby chair and slipping your arms through the straps. You reached for the gold halo headband, walking up next to him at the mirror and slipping it on over your hair.

He stood there with a wide smile, his eyes observing every inch of you. When you were done he quickly brough his hand up, wrapping it around your waist and pulling you into his side roughly, causing you to grunt lightly. "We're hot"

A low giggle escaped your lips and you shook you head, looking down.

The warm feeling of his presence against you was again gone too soon as he let you go, walking out of the bedroom and into the main section of the trailer.

You stared at yourself in the mirror for a moment. You took in a deep breath, holding it for a few seconds before letting it all out at once. You lips began to twitch as you struggled to practice a small smile. Nervousness leaking through the cracks of your façade.

Clenching your jaw once more you turned quickly on your heel, leaning down to slip on your sneakers and walking out after Eddie.

He stood at the door, twirling the van keys in his right hand and holding his black case in his left. "Can you grab the beers?" He asked gesturing to the case on the counter. You nodded wrapping your fingers around the carboard before pulling it to your chest and wrapping both arms around it and yourself.

Eddie opened the door, bowing slightly and dramatically motioning with his hand for you to exit before him. You smiled, a heat beginning to raise on your cheeks as you made your way past him and down the steps.

You could hear the keys jingle as he locked the door behind you before running up and stopping at the passenger side door. You rolled your eyes and scoffed as he opened the car door for you, gesturing the same again. The same wide smile remaining on his face.

"Such a gentleman" you snorted some, drawing a laugh from him as he secured the door behind you and made his way to the driver's side. He hopped in, slamming the door behind himself and passing you his black case before starting the van and peeling off towards the back roads.

******

Your legs bounced in your seat, some out of nervousness and some excitement. When you heard news of the Halloween bonfire in the woods you couldn't help but wait in anticipation for a fun night with your friends. You had convinced Eddie to tag along, insisting he could do some deals there and make a few extra bucks. Your excitement increased by tenfold when he finally agreed.

Pulling up at the large fire you could already see it started and people littering the forest. It seemed chill so far, not seeing anyone doing keg stands yet or anything too stupid.

Eddie jumped out of the car, running around to open your door and taking both cases from your lap. You jumped out, holding your dress down before going to reach for the beer case.

He pulled back smiling at you "I got it, don't worry"

You nodded before you both turned and made your way to the edge of the small clearing.

Your head turned with a smile looking at him with wide eyes. "I think Robin should be here somewhere"

He ignored you for a moment, gaze locked off into the distance. His head turned first, a small smirk appearing on his face, but it wasn't directed to you. "What was that, princess?" His eyes finally met yours expectantly.

You wish your curiosity didn't get the better of you and you peaked in the direction he was staring. The smile instantly dropped from your face and your stomach turned.

Your eyes had landed on a tall brunette, dressed in head to toe leather with large crimped hair, a sexy take on your average Rockstar look. You instantly felt the need to cover up your exposed skin, suddenly less confident in your costume.

"Y/N!" A loud voice broke you out of your thoughts and you turned to see Robin running at you excitedly. A smile returned to your features as you couldn't help but laugh. She wore a green long-sleeve with baggy blue jeans and white sneakers. Her hair was done with more volume then normal and pushed back on the sides.

She smiled at your realization of her costume. "I'm Steve!"

You looked her up and down nodding, a small laugh in your voice "I can see that. Very creative"

"You and Munson look cute" she wiggled her eyebrows, leaning in slightly.

Rolling your eyes you gestured behind you "Yea he's been so excited about his idea fo-" As you turned to look at him you were met with a dark parking lot. "Where did he?..." You turned to search for him and your eyes landed in the familiar spot.

Eddie stood leaned up against a tree, a flirty smirk on his face and a cigarette in his hand. He had already begun to chat up the brunette, leaving you behind.

You felt slightly sick, pulling your eyes away and back at Robin. She stared at you with pity, seeing your face and demeanor drop right before her eyes.

She raised a hand resting it on your shoulder and pulling you along with her. "Come on. Let's go find Steve."

******

That idea was a bust. Steve had already found himself wrapped up with a girl, getting frustrated every time Robin and you tried to butt in and pull him away.

You hadn't seen Eddie for nearly the entire night except when you bugged him to give you one of the blunts he had packed in his jacket. He handed it to you with a sweet smile, not noticing the way your shoulders sagged and the deadpanned frown across your face, before turning back to the brunette.

You and Robin sat leaned against a tree just past the bonfire in silence, watching everyone around you. Your eyes scanned through the different couples and groups in the crowd, occasionally landing on the boy and girl.

Her hand rested on his arm and they leaned into each other's touch as he whispered things into her ear making her laugh.

You felt bitter.

The weed had not helped at all except to calm your anxiety, but made it hard to control where your mind wanted to go, only allowing you to focus on him and the scene in front of you

Your gaze dropped to your hands, running them through the dirt at the base of the tree and picking at the small blades of grass.

Why couldn't you just own up? You'd save yourself from so much pain. But what if it went wrong? Was it better to go on like this or to risk losing him altogether? You would have to get over him eventually either way. Neither option sounded great.

You felt a small shove against your arm, pulling your gaze up to look at Robin who stared in front of you. You turned seeing Eddie standing at your feet, his arm wrapped around her waist and pulled into his side.

"Are you ready to go? I told you I'd get you back safe" He smiled looking down at your sad slumped figure.

Your eyes flickered between him and her, not even aware of the disgruntled look on your face that made the girl's brows furrow.

Looking back down again, your voice came out as a whisper. "No, I'm just gonna go back with Robin" You could see her turned to you out of the corner of your eye, she held a confused look at your self-invitation but ended up shrugging.

"Are you sure?" His voice raised slightly in concern, but you still refused to look back up.

"yea it's fine" The answer came off a bit harsh and you felt you were the only one aware of the pain laced within as he answered back in an oblivious tone.

"Okay, I'll see you later. Take care of her" He finished, looking at Robin with one last smile before the pair walked off towards the white and blue van.

"You okay?" Robin's voice was hoarse as she called your attention. You looked up nodding softly, but not meeting her eyes.

"We should try Steve one more time yea? Head home as well?" you suggested, just wanting to change out of the white dress now caked in dirt.

She groaned, throwing her head back. "I supposed. It is his car after all" You both laughed as you stood, using each other and the tree for support before sauntering off to find the Casanova.

******

Author's Note: I stopped it kinda abrupt bc I'm vibin with this and kinda wanna make more parts. Lmk what ya'll think <3

Taglist-(Message me if you are interested in being added!) @multi-fandoms-stuff @mcueveryday

[msmarvelouswinchester]

Lost Years

Summary - After spending five years in LA, Dean comes back to Lawrence and meets up with his bestfriend or rather his then bestfriend. Y/N isn't exactly happy on seeing Dean either. Will he be able to fix his strained relationship with her?

Pairing - Rockstar!Dean Winchester x Y/N

Warning - Cheesy fluff, angst, mentions of unrequited love, mentions of divorce, parents separation, drinking, bad dates, kissing, unprotected sex 18+ (wrap it before you tap it), p in v smut, oral sex (fem receiving), sex in the Impala.

WC - 5.3k+ (....oops)

Square filled - Angst ( @girl-next-door-writes ) and “Why the fuck would you laugh at that?” ( @anyfandomgoesbingo )

A/N - This is my submission to @downanddirtydean's 500 followers writing challenge (Congratulations again, Lyd). Prompt is in bold.

This is an AU. Flashbacks are in Italics.

Beta'd by @miss-nerd95 (Thank you so much, hon) and thank you to @whatareyousearchingfordean for giving this a read and leaving some valuable comments❤️

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

“Fuckin’ brilliant!” A weary exclamation left the woman's mouth as she read the text displayed on the device's screen in her hand.

There was a very significant reason why she didn't believe in blind dates, but Jo had been stubborn and insistent. And with Valentine's Day approaching, Y/N didn't want to spend the day in her pjs, crying over The Notebook again. So she had agreed to give a chance to Jo’s friend, or to be more precise, her friend's cousin. His name was Gabriel, and from what she had heard from her mutual friend circle, he seemed to be a decent guy.

But now all she wanted was to go back in time and change her decision to give into Jo’s request, because looking at the empty chair in front of her, she regretted allowing her friend to even try to interfere in her love life.

She signaled the waiter to bring over her check after downing the entire glass of wine. The restaurant was quite busy tonight. It was packed with people on this fine Saturday evening - from lovestruck couples to families with crying kids, Y/N found herself feeling quite lonely as she had stupidly waited on her date to show up for such a long time. Heat crept up her neck in embarrassment when the waiter showed up, the latter’s eyes filled with sympathy as Y/N paid the price of her drink.

Within no time, she was out of the restaurant.

Glancing down at her green dress, she swore under her breath. She tried to book a cab to return to the comfort of her home when her eyes caught the glowing signboard of The Roadhouse right around the corner of the street. The only thing she could think of was to get black-out drunk now. Y/N, still in her high heels, trudged down the path to Ellen’s bar.

Dressed up all for nothing. Rolling her eyes at herself, she went inside the establishment, heading straight towards the counter and taking a seat there. Like any other weekend nights, the place was stuffed. Y/N let her eyes trail over the many patrons of the dingy bar, landing finally on the middle-aged brunette who ran the place

“Ellen!” She called out to the woman.

“Hey, honey,” she approached Y/N, all the while glaring daggers at the drunk she had just previously been arguing with, “A bit overdressed for this place, don't ya think?”

“Your daughter is officially fired from matchmaking services,” Y/N sighed.

“Boy troubles, huh? What can I get ya, hon?” Sympathy was evident in Ellen’s eyes as she spoke. Y/N was as much of a daughter to her as Jo was. The girl had been through so much heartbreak, all Ellen wanted was to see a smile on her face.

“The usual,” Y/N gave a sad smile.

“Rough night indeed, huh?” She raised an eyebrow. The woman in question shrugged defeatedly. Ellen patted her arm in comfort before she left her to arrange for her drink, leaving Y/N to wallow in self-pity.

She thought back to when her life had taken such a traumatic turn. All her friends were either getting engaged, married, or popping out kids. But not Y/n... she was in her late twenties now, and she couldn't even find herself an eligible man.

Ellen pushed the glass towards her. Sighing, she picked it up as she admired the liquid in it. She drank slowly, every sip creating a burning sensation at the back of her throat. Fingers still wrapped around the glassware, she set it down, looking around the bar. The place was filled with mad chatters and howling laughs along with the music blasting from the stereo placed on the deck inside the room, a stark contrast to how lonely she felt. She signaled Ellen for another round, who nodded before giving her that sad understanding smile Y/N was now starting to hate. Frowning, she dropped her head and exhaled.

“Sweetheart, where did that pretty smile for yours go?” Y/N was quickly pulled out from her daze by a very familiar voice; a voice she hadn't heard in a few years. It couldn't be him, he was supposed to be in LA!

“Ella?” The term of endearment brought back dozens of memories, some good and some bad, but all were about him - the freckled face teenage boy with dirty blonde hair and eyes as green as the forest in the summertime she had once fallen for. It brought up the painful memory of their first meet which she had tried to forget so hard.

She remembered the day of their first drama practice when Dean had grudgingly walked into the room. He had reluctantly agreed to play the Prince in the Cinderella act after Cas who was supposed to be the Prince had accidentally ended up with a broken leg. He didn’t know her name, so he had called her ‘Ella’ to get her attention which was the start of their epic friendship.

Y/N didn't dare to turn around to look at him, after all, he wasn't the scrawny teenager from Lawrence anymore. He was now the lead singer and guitarist of a popular rock band with a fancy name and songs that were in the top ten of Billboard music charts. Yes, she did keep up with his rising fame, sometimes even listening to one of his songs before she was once again reminded of the heartbreak he had caused.

“You can't even look at me.” His voice was barely a whisper but loud enough for her to hear as he slid into the stool beside her.

Gathering enough courage, she raised her head. “Dean.” His name rolled off her tongue so easily, but her heart ached for the past. Dean cracked a smile at her as his emerald eyes did not leave hers once. It was as if he was memorizing every tiny detail of her face and if anyone would've asked him, he would've replied that he was.

Y/N hadn't changed much over the years he had spent in LA. She was still the same girl he had first met in school and the last time he had seen her at their graduation. She was a shy girl but they had clicked instantly. Growing up, she was his best friend, his person, his escape.

“Dean Winchester has walked into my bar. Must be my lucky day!” Ellen’s voice thundered across the room, grabbing the attention of a few intoxicated people. “How's LA treating you, boy?”

“Ellen! It's awesome to see you again.” A grin broke out on Dean's face as he jumped out of his seat and pulled the lady into a bear hug. “LA’s pretty okay. It is as good as the industry can be.”

“Heard some of your songs, I knew you had the talent,” Ellen said, jabbing her finger into his chest to prove her point. “Now what can I get ya? On the house.”

“A beer will be just fine. Don't want to show up to the Winchester house drunk!” He chuckled.

“Alright, coming right up. Y/N, honey, you want another round or a glass of water?” The lady asked.

“I'll be leaving in a few. Glass of water it is, El.” She replied but was then interrupted by Dean.

“One drink, with me. It's on me, Ella.” There it was again, that fucking name. A few years ago, that name would have made her cheeks heat up but now, it just made her blood boil. She clenched her hand into fists, tears pricking at her eyes as she swallowed the lump in her throat.

“Do not call me that.” She hissed, surprising Dean. Y/N turned towards the man, finally taking a good look at him. He had changed a lot, had become more handsome but LA had not modified his clothing style because he was still wearing his signature flannel and jeans accompanied by a jacket. She wondered how many girls had stopped him for a picture or an autograph on his way back to Lawrence, jealousy seeping into her. She hated the way he still had that effect on her.

“Y/N-” She knew what he was going to say. ‘I am sorry’, but she wasn't ready to forgive him now, if ever.

“No. Don't.” She stopped him mid-sentence, hands digging into her purse as she pulled out the money for her drinks, dropping them on the counter.

“El, I am going home.” Ellen, who was silently watching their whole exchange, nodded her head before asking, “Want me to call a cab for you?”

“No. I'm going to crash at your place. I need to have a word with Jo.” Y/N said since it was near impossible for her to walk back to her house, considering she was quite tipsy and still in heels, but she also didn't want to wait until the woman called a cab with Dean Winchester anywhere nearby. After getting her belongings, she got out of the barstool and left the place on wobbly legs. Her feet would no doubt be screaming in pain the next day.

Stepping out, she inhaled deeply, letting a few tears fall as the cool air hit her face. After their graduation, Y/N had sworn she would try her best to forget the older Winchester. She wasn't quite successful in her aim, because many times she would come across his gorgeous face on the cover of a magazine or his song would be playing on the radio, striking up old memories of their time spent together in high school.

Still lost in her thoughts, she took a step forward, only to misjudge the cobblestone path and end up losing her balance. She braced herself for the impending fall but was saved by a pair of strong hands wrapped around her waist.

“Watch your step, sweetheart,” Dean said, letting her down gently. “Lemme see, did you hurt your ankle?” He went down on his knees in front of her, pulling a low gasp out of her as he examined her feet.

“Were you following me?” Y/N gritted out those words.

“No.” He shook his head but she clearly saw through the lie.

“I’m fine. You can go now.” She said, her eyes looking everywhere but the man.

“Come on, don't be so stubborn. Get in the car, I'll drop you off at your house or Jo’s place if you want.” He said looking up, trying to catch her eyes but she was adamant about not giving him that satisfaction. Y/N squeezed her eyes shut, lips quivering before she answered.

“Leave me alone.” She muttered, a tear running down her cheek. All that preparation for not breaking down in front of Dean and her body still betrayed her. The man got up. Y/N noticed that he was now wearing a cap, probably to hide from any bystander who might recognize him.

“Y/N/N, I-” Dean was at a loss of words. He hated seeing her so heartbroken and he loathed himself for being the cause of it. He tried to reach out and hold her hand but she recoiled back, making him wince. “Please, Ella.”

“Stop calling me that, Winchester. How many times do I have to repeat that?” Her voice came out as a little whine, making Dean chuckle. He missed it - her tone, the timbre, the intensity in her pitch, and the words it said, which used to be his voice of reason; he missed his best friend. “Why the fuck would you laugh at that? I am not doing stand up comedy out here.” Y/N was still the strong-headed girl he adored.

“You'll probably hurt yourself if you walk in those heels again with how tipsy you are right now. Get in the car, I know you missed cruising around the town in Baby because she missed you for sure.” And that thankfully got the exact reaction out of her that he had anticipated. She finally looked right at him, her face lit up at the pretense of seeing the beloved black car again.

“I thought she was in LA with you.” Y/N said and then it dawned on her, “Did you drive across the States?”

“Damn right I did!” He beamed in reply like he had won a trophy, his heart swelling with happiness when he saw the smile forming on her face mixed with awe and surprise. He still had to go a long way to get her back, but he had to take baby steps. At least he managed to make her smile. “So? Want to go out, just like the old times?”

The smile instantly disappeared from Y/N’s lips and Dean knew he fucked up right then. Maybe he shouldn't have mentioned the good ol’ days. “Sweetheart, I'm sorry-”

“Just drop me off at Jo’s. That's it.” She said, lowering her gaze. He waved her over to the direction where his car was parked. Y/N started to walk along as Dean wordlessly followed her.

Y/N felt a wave of nausea hit her. She didn't do well in social gatherings and this was her graduation ceremony. One wrong step, one wrong word, or a wardrobe malfunction, and the day could turn into a disaster in an instant.

“Honey, you're gonna be excellent out there! We're all very proud of you.” Mary said while hugging Y/N tightly as they both waited on the former's older son to come downstairs who was running late, as usual. She had grown incredibly close to the Winchester family over the years. They were her rock, especially Dean who was there with her at every step as she went through the separation of her parents.

“Are you and John going to join my parents at the ceremony? Someone needs to stop them before they end up killing each other.” She grimaced.

“Isn't this going to be the first time they are together in one single room, since their….you know-” Sam asked as he came out of the kitchen, a green smoothie in his hands. Dean might have been her best friend, her confidante, but Sam was the little brother she never thought she needed.

“First get that green drink outta my sight, I already feel like I'm gonna throw up. Second, you can speak about the divorce. It's not taboo and it was a long time coming. Everyone knew that.” Y/N reluctantly said. The separation of her parents might have been foreseeable but, nevertheless, it still hurt her to see her parents walkout in two separate ways once the divorce was finalized. The house had become much quieter these days which she was thankful for but she also felt the evident absence of her father.

“Mom and Dad will definitely be there!” Dean announced loudly as he came down the stairs. “Come on let's go. Don't wanna be late for our own graduation ceremony!” She could always count on him to make her day better.

“I should have told you.”

“W-what?” Y/N asked dumbfoundedly as Dean’s gruff voice broke her out of the reverie and pulled her back to reality. A minute passed when she noticed even if his hands were on the steering, he wasn't driving anymore.

“This-” she looked out of the window, “this isn't Jo’s place.”

“No, this is our place,” Dean said.

“Dean.” This was the last place she wanted to be at, let alone be here with Dean. It had taken every ounce of her strength to not run back to this place over the past few years whenever she missed her best friend, only to realize that he had left her in the dust on his path to fame and didn't care about her as much as she used to think. Too many memories were attached to this particular place.

“I missed this, Y/N.” He said, killing the engine and slowly opening the door on his side. Y/N understood what he was trying to do and her mind screamed at her in protest to not follow him but her heart told her to follow the man it belonged to.

Dean finally stepped out of the car and walked over to the closed door on her side. She opened the door herself before he could and stepped out as well with a huff. The place was the same as it ever was. “I haven't been here since graduation.” She blurted out.

“I should have told you,” Dean said as they started to walk to their spot. Y/N chose to remain quiet. “Ella, please say somethin’.”

“I am not your Ella anymore, Dean. Stop calling me that.” She said but this time it wasn't a whine, instead, she yelled it out. She was sick and tired of yearning for the man who had broken her heart several years ago and now she was scared that he was gonna leave her once again.

“You'll always be my Ella.” He said.

“The Prince didn't lie to Cinderella and leave her behind but you- it hurts me to remember how close we were then. You left me without even a simple goodbye, so no, I am not your Ella anymore.” She flinched when he reached out for her.

He had stopped walking now and so had she. Dean moved closer to her before standing exactly in front of her. His hands lightly traced her jaw as she looked up at him. She looked just as enchanting under the moonlight as he remembered. He cupped her face in his hands, thumbs gently caressed her cheeks. She had given up fighting herself now, driven only by instinct. All the walls that she had put up came crumbling down with one touch of his.

“Why do you think I didn't say goodbye to you?” Dean whispered.

“Maybe all the years that we spent together meant nothing to you.” Her voice was like a melody to his ears but the words broke his heart even further.

“Because it was too damn hard. When RC Records called me up three days before graduation, you were the first person I wanted to tell, but I couldn't, ‘cause if I did, I wouldn't have made it to where I am right now.” He said, not a trace of mirth on his face.

“I wouldn't have held you back.” It was simple. Y/N always wanted to stay in Lawrence and look over her mother's bakery shop, and that's what she ended up doing. She now owned the shop and her business was thriving. Dean had wanted to become a singer ever since he was ten when he was forced to play the Prince, opposite to Y/N’s lead. He had found his passion and she had always encouraged it, even when John had strongly protested against him choosing music as his major. “You know I always supported you.”

“I know that, but thinking about not seeing you every day made me not want to go. I kept imagining you upset and that's why I didn't have it in me to tell you about my break.” He said. Y/N grabbed his hands pushing them away from her face.

“You ended up making me sad anyway. So why the fuck are you back?” She was enraged.

“Ella-” Dean tried to come closer but she stepped back, “I came to see my family.”

“Then why are you wasting your time here with me?”

“Because you're the most important person in my life and every day I spent away from you, you were the only person on my mind.” Dean smiled.

“What?”

“You were the first thought when I woke up and the last thought when I went to sleep.” He said and pulled her close when she finally stopped fighting. “I love you, Y/N Y/L/N. I know I am late and probably missed my chance, but five years in LA have taught me to take the risks. I love you, Ella.”

“I can't-” Dean’s smile felt but he quickly recovered.

“I-I understand.” He let out a dry chuckle, “You got a man back at home waiting for you. He sure is one lucky bastard.”

“No. You do not fucking understand! You are just so in your head, it's just-” She flailed her arms around in utter frustration. “Do you have any idea how long it took me to move on? I have been on so many dates but no man was ever enough for me, all because of your sorry ass! The Graduation Day - I knew you always thought of me as your best friend, so I had decided to ask you out myself,”

“Y/N-”

“No, let me finish. You have to fucking listen about how much pain you put me through these five years! The next day, I went to your house only to hear from your parents that you were on your way to LA. I fucking hate you!” Tears rolled down her cheeks. “I fucking hate how much I still love you, Dean!”

His eyes widened in surprise as he kept opening and closing his mouth like a damn fish. He was unable to form a coherent sentence and so he cupped Y/N’s cheeks in his big, warm hands once more, but now he dipped down, tilting his face and pulling her in for a kiss. His teeth grazed her bottom lips, making her moan into his mouth. She could feel the blood rush to her cheeks as she found herself completely enamored by him. Her hands snuck to the back of his neck as she steadied herself. Her knees buckled under his hypnotic touch as he slipped his tongue into her mouth, her whole body tingled and toes curled up as his tongue explored every inch of her mouth.

“De,” Y/N tried to catch her breath when Dean finally let go of her lips, already missing the feel of her on him.

His hands traveled down her body, making her gasp aloud at the feel. He lowered his mouth as he started to leave a trail of kisses along her jaw and down her neck. “Dean, please. Don't.” Her three short words made him stop.

“Alright.” He gulped.

“I don't want to get my heart broken again, Winchester, I don't think I can survive it again.” Y/N knew he would return to LA within a week, and so she didn't want to take this any further. “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me, right?”

“I won't. I am not going back.” Y/N looked at him, surprise evident in her eyes, “I don't care about my career anymore. Five years without you was like living in hell and my bandmates are probably so tired of hearing how much I missed you. I will write my songs from here in Lawrence if it means that I'll be closer to you.”

“You would do that for me?” She asked sincerely.

“I would. I was a stupid kid back then but now I have realized that nothing's more important to me than you. I don't want to lose my Ella ever again.” He said, “I'm sorry for taking so long to understand that. There is no way-” His words were cut off as Y/N captured his lips with her own. The sudden kiss caught him off guard but he quickly pulled himself together to kiss her back. “Shit, Y/N-” he gasped when he felt his dick twitch. He picked her up in quick motion and went towards the car. Y/N giggled when her back lightly collided with Baby’s door. Dean dropped his head, nipping at the pulse point on her neck.

“Dean-” She moaned, which was better than any music he had ever made as his hands slipped under her dress, his fingers hovering over her soaked panties. Her thighs clenched in anticipation.

“You have no idea how long I dreamt of having you. You're soaked, sweetheart. ” He huskily said, his fingers hooking on the waistband of her cotton panties. “Tell me to stop and I will, in a heartbeat. No questions.”

“N-no. Don't stop.” Y/N cooed. Dean dragged down her panties which pooled at her feet. He picked it up and stuffed it into his pocket. Thankfully, there was no one around but the thrill of being out in the open with Dean got her even more hot and bothered. Her hands grasped onto his biceps tightly so that she wouldn't topple over when Dean slipped a finger into her tight pussy. Her mouth fell open, her head dropping on his shoulder as he started pumping slowly, every drag of his finger pushing her closer to the edge.

Dean felt his pants tighten as he heard the sweet moan of his name leave her lips. Her raspy voice was one he could hear all day long, her heavy pants tickling his skin. With one hand he unbuckled his belt, trying to relieve himself a little, but when a cry of pleasure left her lips as he slipped in another finger, he hoped that he wouldn't cream his pants like a freaking teenage boy.

Y/N felt the coil in her stomach tighten as she inched towards her climax. Dean quickened his pace, curling his fingers inside her and brushing her g-spot, each time eliciting a low moan out of her. “Dean….” She couldn't form any coherent words other than chanting his name over and over again and a moment later, the coil snapped as she felt herself coming undone. He delicately pulled his fingers out of her, which were covered in her juice. Dean reached behind her, yanking the door open as he nudged her to go in. She readily obliged and slid into the seat with shaky legs. He climbed into the backseat after her, closing the door behind him.

Her dress had ridden up her thigh, exposing her glistening pussy. Dean’s eyes darkened at the sight before him as he swiftly pulled his shirt over his head, discarding it somewhere in the front. He pushed her dress further up. She raised her hands as he successfully got her out of the garment and unhooked her bra. Y/N moved further back into the seat, her back resting against the door on the other side as Dean started to leave kisses down her body.

“Have you ever thought about this? ‘Cause I did, every freaking day.” Dean asked, kissing the valley between her breasts, the rumble of his voice sending shivers down her spine.

“E-every time I touched myself, I thought of you.” She said, gasping out loud at every word when his mouth found her breasts and started to suck on the soft skin, flicking a nipple with his tongue and twirling the other within his fingers.

“Oh-” Dean raised his head to look at her before he moved south, “Did you think about me between your legs just like this-” He said as he left kisses along her thigh, his stubble creating soft burns on her skin in its wake that she would definitely remember. He finally stopped at her nether regions, his hot breath fanning against her throbbing pussy. “Did you think about me tasting you like this?”

Y/N threw her head back in pleasure when his mouth latched onto her sensitive bundle of nerves, his tongue flicking at her aching nub. Her hands traveled down to his head, her fingers getting tangled up in his soft hair and pulled at the strands, making him groan.

“Fuck-” She exclaimed as Dean hungrily devoured her, his tongue repeatedly assaulting her sensitive pussy, sucking needily on her bundle of nerves. Y/N threw her head back in pleasure as she felt the coil in your stomach tighten before a wave of pleasure washed over her. “Shit!” She gasped as Dean’s tongue lapped her juices hungrily.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you taste so good.” He panted before he unbuttoned his pants pushing them down along with his boxers, freeing his erection sprung from his confines. “Son of a bitch, I don’t have-” Y/N sensed his uneasiness.

“I’m on the pill.” She smirked as she stared at his toned body.

“Well, I’m clean.” She reached out to touch his stomach, hands then traveling down to his length. Dean dropped his head, biting down on his lips, “Y/N-” He pushed her hands away, smirking as he ran his hand along his hardened cock, giving it a few strokes, the tip beaded with precum. He looked at Y/N once and lined himself with her dripping entrance when she gave him a nod to go ahead.

His swollen tip teasingly nudged at her opening before he pushed himself into her.

“Shit Y/N-” Dean grunted, simultaneously as Y/N hissed out at the painful sensation at the beginning as he pushed himself into her, letting her adjust around his size before she told him to move. He circled his hips as he slowly pulled out, leaving only the tip of his engorged cock inside her, before pushing back in again, deeper than before.

“Holy fuck-” Y/N moaned out when he quickened his pace, hitting her g-spot repeatedly with every thrust as they both inched towards their release. Dean kissed her as he continued to thrust deep into her, their breathing growing erratic, the windows of the chevy fogged up and the car filled with their groans and moans as they both chased their release. She hooked her arms at the small of his back as he started to nibble at her sweet spot. His hand moved south, his thumb rubbing circles on her clit which further edged her.

“Shit De!” Y/N cried out loud as her walls fluttered around his pulsating length when she felt herself coming undone. Dean’s thrusts became sloppy as he grunted into the crook of her neck before he spilled into her with one cry of her name, painting her walls with his seed. He dropped his head, trying to catch his breath before he gently pulled out.

“Fuck sweetheart.” Dean panted, beads of sweat lining his forehead as they both laid in each other’s arms, basking in the post-coital bliss. “Was this better than your fantasies? ‘Cause, ‘twas surely better than mine.” Dean smirked, reaching out to grab a piece of cloth to clean themselves up. “We should have done this sooner.”

“If only you hadn't been such a coward.” Y/n teased with a giggle.

“Your dumbass could have called me up. I wasted five years being one, terrified to hear how much you hate me.” He grumbled, cleaning up the mess on the seat. Honestly, she could have but she didn't ‘cause she was scared to hear the truth as well; that Dean had truly left her.

“So, you’re sayin’ we’re both a couple of dumbasses.” Y/N chuckled, putting on her bra.

“Your words, not mine.” Dean gave her a sly smirk. “The Winchester household will be so delighted, once they know I finally got my head out of my ass and looked at the beautiful woman right in front of me.” He was right in every sense. The Winchesters, all of them had always believed that those two would end up together. Everyone saw how in love they were except Y/N and Dean.

“Isn't it too early for the introduce-the-girlfriend-to-the-family thing?” She asked which got an eye roll out of the man. “Panties?”

“I don't have them.” Dean sneakily raised his hands.

“I saw you stuff them into your pocket.” He grabbed her dress from the front seat, throwing it at her.

“Put this on, or preferably, just don't.” He gave her a boyish smile, getting a raised eyebrow in reply, “Oh I'm not done with you. Gotta make up for the lost years, sweetheart.” Dean's eyes darkened at the thought as Y/N gulped, knowing she wouldn't be able to walk properly for weeks.

Feedback is highly appreciated!

[let-it-raines]

What a Lie We’re In (1/3)

All Emma was doing was trying to be nice. Her roommate didn’t have anywhere to go, so she invited him home for the holidays. She thought it would be fine and Killian would be a good buffer for a week at home with her parents. That is until her ex-boyfriend showed up, and while she was freaking out, Killian told him they were dating.

That would have been fine except her parents overheard it.

(A Christmas Fake Dating AU)

Rating: Mature 

a/n: What? A holiday fake dating story? So original, you say? No one has ever done it before? Especially not me. lol. Forget all of that, and let’s jump into this trope-a-palooza of a holiday story!

Big thank you to @resident-of-storybrooke for reading over this and convincing me that I still know how to write ❤️

ao3: | HERE |

-/-

“Did you eat all of my candy?”

Emma opens another cabinet, looking inside to the wine glasses and tumblers, before closing it. She’s been keeping her bag of candy in the cabinet where they keep their plates and bowls, hidden at the very top behind some reusable water bottles. Killian is a healthy eater, always stocking the fridge with fruits and vegetables and food she doesn’t think is actually real food, so she didn’t think she had to hide her junk food that well.

Hide it, yes. Hide it well, no.

Until now.

“What was that, love?”

Emma slams another cabinet closed and turns to look at Killian. He’s walking out of the bathroom, chest still damp, and only has a white towel wrapped around his waist. When he first moved into the apartment six months ago after Ruby abandoned Emma to go live with Dorothy (live with, get married to, same thing), Emma was taken aback by the lack of clothes wearing Killian partakes in. He’s an attractive man. She’s not blind. He goes to the gym as often as she does, but mostly, he spends a lot of time doing heavy lifting at his job as a contractor since he apparently likes to be hands-on, literally. His body is toned, and the son of the bitch knows it. He also knows he’s got the face to be able to get away with a lot of…well, a lot.

At first, it was all disconcerting, but now, he could walk around with his dick out and Emma wouldn’t care.

What she cares about is where her candy is. That’s the real priority. But she knows Killian will try to use his lack of clothes to distract her. Never worked in the past, not gonna work now, bud.

“My candy,” Emma repeats. “Where is it?”

He wipes behind his ear with the small towel in his hand. “I wouldn’t touch the stuff. You don’t like the good candy.”

“Well, my good candy has been moved, and we’re the only two people who live here.”

Emma places her hands on her hips, staring him down hoping he will somehow be intimidated by her stare and fess up to everything. He won’t be, but Emma can try. They both have their tactics.

Killian clicks his tongue. “What about the fellow you brought home last week?”

“Do you mean the plumber?”

“Was that who he was?”

“You know I don’t bring guys back here.” Emma moves from the counter and opens the fridge, taking out a handful of grapes from the fridge. She probably needs to eat some of them and not candy anyway. As she pops one into her mouth, that’s when it clicks. “Your girlfriend ate my candy, didn’t she?”

He scoffs and keeps drying his hair, but she sees the way he scratches his ear. Gotcha, Jones. “I don’t believe I have a girlfriend.”

“What? Tink break up with you because you wouldn’t let her eat dessert on your dates? Wait, I heard it. Don’t make it dirty.” Killian walks toward her, getting in her space, and she knows him well enough to know he wants her to flinch, to move, to stop her line of questioning. That’s exactly why she doesn’t want to. Emma pops another grape in her mouth. “Did you eat my candy? Was it your way of wallowing? It’s okay if you did. I’ll take another bag for payment.”

“For your information, Swan,” he whispers as he places his hand on her hip, “we are no longer seeing each other, but it was mutual. She did, however, eat your candy when she was last here. If you really want to know, we used it to – ”

“Stop,” Emma groans, pushing him away and running to the other side of the kitchen. “Nope. Don’t take that any further. Some things should be left private.”

His head tilts back as he laughs, the underside of his jaw black with stubble, and then he’s reaching into the cabinet above the fridge and tossing her the bag of sweets.

Oh.

“I hid it after Will and Rob found it while we were playing cards last night. Will nearly went through all your milk duds before I realized what was happening.” He raises his brow. “You have something you want to say to me?”

Emma knows what he’s aiming for, and she isn’t going to give it to him.

“Yeah,” Emma says, “you need a thicker towel. I don’t think you want people seeing you when you look like…that.” She nods her head down and then picks up a handful of Kit Kats. “I gotta go to work.”

“Off to die inside at your cubicle, love?”

“Oh, you know it.”

Emma grabs her purse and unlocks the door only to hear Killian speak. “It’s December. How do you still have Halloween candy leftover?”

Emma shrugs. “I bought one bag to pass out to kids, two bags for me.”

“Bloody brilliant.”

“I do what I can. See you tonight. I’ll try not to wake you up from your nap when I come in.”

“That would be the least you could do.”

Emma rolls her eyes, but then she’s officially walking out the door of her apartment and down toward the elevator, a Kit Kat bar hanging out of the side of her mouth.

The thing about Killian Jones is that he’s simple to her.

He likes his friends, his job, his rum, and his women. There’s not much else to him, and Emma is okay with that. While her last roommate was her best friend, this one doesn’t have to be. He can just be a guy who pays the bills so she can keep living in a nice place and who, on occasion, talks shit about other people with her while they binge watch TV.

That’s all she needs.

And all and all, Killian Jones is a…fine roommate. Yeah, fine is an accurate way to describe him at least eighty percent of the time.

Even if she does get annoyed when he brings his dates home. But that’s only because it’s always on the nights she plans on going to bed early, and the noise of other people being around keeps her from catching up on sleep.

Emma is not one to mess around on sleep.

But yeah, he’s fine. Annoying as hell over half the time, but he’s fine in the small dosages she sees him in. He works odd hours, isn’t always on the job, and she is stuck with regular hours in her office. There’s not a lot of glory in working HR for a small engineering company, but that’s what happens when you make dumbass decisions like Emma did. She’s lucky she has a stable job. She’ll try not to complain too much about it.

That’s what she tells herself every morning when she sits in her car and stares at the drab brick building.

Money. She has to make money.

And hey, she gets almost an entire week off for Christmas next week, and that’s fucking incredible, even if she does have to spend it in her hometown with her parents and their Hallmark-like attitude toward the holiday and the events it puts on. Her mom is a teacher at the elementary school and produces the Christmas play every year while her dad is a vet and outfits all his patients in little holiday bandanas and bows. He even has a tree in his office decorated with bone ornaments.

It’s…a lot. But it’s family, and as Emma stares at this building that’s sucking the life out of her, she can’t wait to have a change of pace and some home-cooked meals, even if there are as many downsides as upsides to going home. Her Kit Kat bars aren’t giving her the nutrients she knows she needs.

Being an adult is not all it’s cracked up to be sometimes, especially when going home for the holidays is seen as more of a burden than a gift with a fancy bow on top. It’s more like that turkey that dries up and falls to pieces in National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation.

Well, that and the squirrel crashing every decoration in the house.

Happy holidays.

-/-

“Nah, mate, I don’t have any plans.”

Emma quietly puts her keys down on the table next to her front door, laying her purse down with it, and she kicks her boots off until they topple over each other and lay in the middle of the hallway. She can hear Killian talking, and it gets even louder when she walks into the kitchen and turns on the coffee maker.

“No, no, well, you know, I rarely do anything, not since Liam.” There’s a pause as the coffee begins to percolate and Emma grabs another Kit Kat from her bag. “I went home with Milah once, but that was years ago…no, mate, it’s alright. I don’t mind staying here by myself…yeah, I think Emma is going home to her parents.”

And that’s when she realizes what Killian is talking about.

Christmas plans.

He doesn’t have any. Emma didn’t know that. She didn’t really bother to ask. She doesn’t bother to ask much of Killian. She picks up pieces here and there, as she’s sure he does to her, but they mind their own business.

He doesn’t have a family to go home to? She knows he’s originally from England, but still. There must be someone.

“I’ll talk to you later,” Killian says. “I promise if I need anything, I’ll let you know. Alright, bye Scarlet.”

The coffee finishes, and Emma picks the pot up and starts pouring, filling her large mug halfway before getting hazelnut creamer out of the fridge and making the coffee drinkable. Killian joins her in the kitchen and perches himself on one of their stools.

“Good day at work?” he asks.

“Eh, it was a day. You?”

He shrugs. “The same. I’m finishing up on this house tomorrow, hopefully, so tomorrow will be a good day.”

Emma nods and sips on her coffee as Killian taps his fingers on the counter, the rhythm the same as the song he usually hums when cooking. “So, when are you heading for Storybrooke?” he asks.

“Monday after work.” Killian nods and keeps tapping his fingers, and Emma, stupidly opens her mouth because despite what her exes have told her, she does apparently have a heart. “If you don’t have any plans and have off work, you’re welcome to come with me. My parents are always thrilled to welcome more people. Just be prepared, it’s like a Hallmark movie up there.”

His eyes widen, the blue lighting up, and his upper lip starts to quiver, laughter very obviously waiting to break through. Dammit, why the hell did she decide to be nice? This is going to give him all of the wrong ideas.

“Why, Swan,” he smirks, leaning forward and resting his chin in his propped-up hand, “are you inviting me home for the holidays with you? You’ve been harboring a crush this entire time, haven’t you? I can’t say I’m surprised. I see the way you look at me when I finish up in the bathroom. Don’t be ashamed of it. Most women find me attractive.”

Emma flicks Killian’s forehead, and really, he should be thrilled she didn’t dump her hot coffee on his lap like she wanted to.

“I was just trying to be nice. You didn’t have to be an asshole about it.” Emma rolls her eyes and turns on her heels to walk away. She is going to her room. She doesn’t have to put up with his shit. “Forget I even offered.”

“Wait, wait, Swan.” Emma’s shoulders tense, and she doesn’t turn around. “Are you serious about your offer?”

“I mean, it would have some conditions in that you are a slightly less obnoxious version of yourself, but yeah, if you don’t have anywhere else to go, you can come home with me.”

“I’d like that.” Emma twists around, trying to size him up, and for once, everything seems genuine. “I have a condition as well.”

Idiot. “What could your condition possibly be?”

He winks, and she already knows this is going to have her eyes rolling so far into the back of her head they get stuck there. “Don’t go falling in love with me.”

What a cheesy ass sarcastic line.

“In your dreams, Jones.”

What the hell has she gotten herself into? This is absolutely the last time she lets her conscience guilt her into doing something nice. Emma was already going to be miserable, but now she’s miserable with a buffer.

At least her mom will be happy getting to go into hostess mode.

-/-

In the days leading up to them leaving for Storybrooke, Emma convinces herself Killian is going to back out of the trip. He’ll realize this is awkward and not a good idea. They live together, sure, but they don’t actually know each other. They’re not close friends.

But Killian never backs out. Instead he asks her things like what the weather is like there, if her parents drink wine, if he needs to bring his own bedding. He asks a million questions a day, and they continue when they’re in her bug making the drive from Boston to Storybrooke. He wants to know what her parents do for a living, what their hobbies are, pretty much everything someone needs to know when they’re about to spend half a week in the house of strangers.

Strangers who don’t actually know they’re having someone stay at their house to awkwardly sit on the sidelines as Emma’s family celebrates the holidays and has their usual holiday arguments.

Yeah, Emma didn’t ever tell her parents Killian was coming. She knows her mom well enough to know the moment Emma mentioned bringing someone home, her mom would have stopped listening before Emma could explain that it was just her roommate. It would have been this whole big thing, and Emma knows she can handle explaining it better in person when she can snap her mom out of getting excited about nothing.

Plus, who doesn’t want a Christmas surprise?

(Emma doesn’t.)

After Killian stops being one of those obnoxious kids who never stops asking questions, they sit in relative silence for the car ride, music entertaining them, and little by little, cities fade away and more trees pop up, evergreen forests surrounding them. It’s always the sign for Emma that she’s leaving her life and going back to her old one.

That and the “Welcome to Storybrooke” sign.

Everything about the town is the same. The buildings are small and kind of dingy downtown, and when she passes Granny’s, she bets those onion rings are the same too. God, she hopes they are. This is probably the only thing that can get her through this week. She should have texted Ruby and made sure her grandmother hadn’t changed any of the recipes. If she had, Emma definitely would have stayed home.

People walk down the sidewalk all bundled up in their coats and scarves, saying hello and chatting with others they pass. It’s the opposite of Boston where Emma can go her entire day without having to say hello to someone, and a little shiver runs down her spine at the thought. She needs to get out of here as soon as possible and to the isolation of her parents’ farmhouse, even if that presents her a new set of problems.

Storybrooke, Maine is, decidedly, not Emma’s favorite place for a hell of a lot of different reasons.

Killian, though, seems to be taking it all in with the wonder and confusion of someone who has never lived in a small town like this and who is a bit shell-shocked.

Get used to it, buddy.

“Oh, hey, one more thing,” Emma sighs as she pulls up to her parents’ street a few minutes later. “My real last name is Nolan. I changed it after high school, so my parents’ names are Nolan. The whole ‘Swan’ thing is a sticky situation for them even though it’s my mom’s maiden name.”

Killian’s eyes narrow, and she has definitely shared too much about herself now. “Am I allowed to ask or…”

“No. just try not to call me ‘Swan’ around them.”

“Whatever your heart desires, love.”

Emma slows down as the road turns from paved to loose gravel leading up to their driveway. There are several cars parked alongside it, and either they now own extra cars or her parents have friends over. Great. Just what she needed. Other people around when she’s coming home and surprising her parents with a guest. At least Killian will likely be that buffer she keeps hoping he’ll be.

They get out of her car, and Emma pops the trunk for them to get their bags. Killian grabs the bigger ones despite her arguing with him about it, but she’s fine to just carry her purse and the bag with presents. Emma closes the trunk, slamming it shut, and squares her shoulders.

This is fine. This is all fine.

Until ten steps later, it’s not.

Her parents have this incredible wraparound porch with swings and rocking chairs, and sitting in one of them is Neal Cassidy.

What the hell?

She doesn’t…she can’t…why is he here? He has no right to be here, no business being here, and seeing his face makes her want to vomit.

It makes her want to cry, too, but Emma can’t give him the satisfaction.

Instead, she’d like to sink into the dirt and never emerge again.

“Shit,” Emma mumbles, stopping and turning toward Killian who is looking down at her with an arched brow. “Shit, shit, shit.”

“What is it?”

God, she can’t believe she has to tell this to him. It’s too many pieces of her past in too short a period of time. This isn’t something she ever wanted to talk about again and certainly not to Killian. She was really hoping she never had to see Neal’s face again.

Honestly, she never considered it to be a possibility.

If only.

“That guy sitting on my porch is an ex of mine. And I’m talking about a bad ex, not one of those who you can be friends with afterward.”

“What the bloody hell is he doing here then?” Killian looks over her head to look at Neal, but Emma grabs his hand and yanks on it until he looks at her. “What?”

“Don’t look at him,” she hisses. “I don’t know what he’s doing here, but I’m sure it has something to do with my parents. Just…I don’t know what to do.”

“Do we need to turn around?”

“No, no, that’s pathetic. Just…maybe he’s going to leave soon, and it’ll be a quick hello and then I never have to see his face again. Let’s get it over with.”

“If you’re sure, Sw – Emma.”

“I’m sure.”

She’s not sure at all. Mostly, she wants to take Killian’s suggestion and run far, far away.

Once more, Emma braces her shoulders, and she moves forward. If she stops and thinks too much, she’ll chicken out. It’s how she is. If she thinks about something for too long, it ruins every bit of courage she has. Now isn’t the moment for that when this week is one that makes her need courage.

Maybe, Emma realizes, she didn’t invite Killian here just to be nice. Maybe she needed that buffer to keep her old demons at bay, even if just barely, and that was her motivation all along.

That really makes her asshole of the year. Well, after Neal. She hasn’t seen him in years, but he still gets the asshole of the year award.

Neal sees her before she can get to the front steps. He rises from the rocking chair and moves toward her. He looks older now. He was always older than her, but she can actually see it now. There’s gray in his beard and more lines on his forehead. His features are similar, but she swears there’s an eeriness to his eyes and a lie to his smile. Maybe those were always there, but Emma imagines she was blind to it all when she loved him.

Amazing how opening her eyes to love blinded her to so much else.

“Emma? Is that you?”

No, jackass, it’s some other blonde woman walking into her parents house.

“Hi, Neal.” She forces a smile that she knows is awkward, but he was never good at reading her enough to know the difference between a real smile and a fake one. “What are you doing here?”

“You’ve just seen me for the first time in half a decade, and your first question is what I’m doing here? Nice to see you too, Ems.”

It’s illegal to murder, Emma, she reminds herself. You don’t want to end up in jail because of him.

“It’s my parents’ house. I’m supposed to be here. You’re not. So, again, what are you doing here?”

He shrugs and ignores her. “Who’s this?”

Emma turns to Killian who is staring ahead, his jaw clenched, and he speaks before she gets a chance to. “Killian Jones,” he begins, dropping a bag and reaching forward to shake Neal’s hand, “Emma’s boyfriend.”

Emma nearly chokes on her own air and possibly her own lungs and whatever else is down there, and she’s stuck. Her brain and her feet and especially her mouth are all stuck. What the hell is he doing?

“Emma’s boyfriend,” Neal repeats, his voice incredulous like the fact that she could have a boyfriend is ludicrous to him. “Really?”

“For awhile now,” Killian lies. Wow. Has he always been this good of a liar? “It’s nice to meet you, but I think Emma and I need to get inside and put our stuff away. It’s been a long drive.”

Neal nods, but Emma catches his eyes glance over at her. What was that? “I understand. I need to get my fiancée from inside, but then we’ll be on our way.”

Fiancée?

Neal has a fiancée? Who is in her parents’ house?

What kind of upside down hell has she walked into and how does she reverse time and get back to the place where things are normal?

“Nice seeing you,” Emma lies, but Neal is already walking inside, leaving the door slightly ajar behind him as if it’s his house to go into. She quickly turns to Killian and hopes her face conveys the “what the hell” look she’s going for. And in case it doesn’t, she hisses, “what the fuck was that?”

“Forgive me, love, but you obviously didn’t want to see that man, and I figured there wouldn’t be any harm in saying that. You weren’t planning on ever seeing him again, aye?”

“Not if I can help it.”

“So what’s the harm in him thinking you have a devilishly handsome new boyfriend?”

Emma rolls her eyes, ready to take the piss out of him, when her mother comes running out the front door.

“Emma, you brought a boyfriend home?”

Well, that’s the harm, Jones.

-/-

Emma tries explaining to her parents that Killian isn’t really her boyfriend, that he’s just her roommate who came home with her because he doesn’t have any family, but she never really gets the chance with Neal still hanging around. That would be mortifying, so she rolls with it, hoping that she can clear it all up sooner rather than later.

But Neal never seems to leave.

His fiancée, Tamara, apparently teaches with Emma’s mom, and from the looks of it, they’re great friends. She can’t imagine any other reason why her parents would let Neal Cassidy in their house, but then again, they have always been great at doing the exact opposite of what’s good for her. It’s torture, and as the night goes on, it seems like it’s never going to end.

When are they going to leave?

When can she stop listening to Killian falsify their life?

She’s got to say that he’s fantastic at taking truths and turning them into lies. According to him, they met when he became her roommate (true) and got to know each other as friends first (eh, a half-truth). Then, slowly, feelings started to develop in the little moments, and they decided to give their relationship a chance (unequivocally false).

He’s got this uncanny ability to make everything feel…not ridiculous. She doesn’t know the word she’s searching for, but she’s sure as hell that Killian could find it and incorporate it into a story to make everyone here think they’re in love.

Emma has no clue how they’re going to get out of this without her parents being heartbroken because Emma can see the hope and happiness in her mom’s eyes. She’s over the moon. Her dad, however, doesn’t seem to be.

Of course this is how it goes. Her mom is thrilled because she’s not a spinster, and her dad is upset because she’s not a spinster.

“So what do you do, Killian?” he asks. “You need a roommate apparently.”

“Dad,” Emma hisses, wanting to sink into the couch, especially because she knows she’s the one who needs the roommate and not Killian. “Don’t.”

“What? I’m not allowed to ask about the man who my daughter is dating?”

“You are, but you’re not allowed to interrogate him.”

Killian places his hand over Emma’s on her thigh, and God, this really is the worst night. Why do people have to go home to family on the holidays? At least she didn’t automatically flinch at the feeling of Killian’s hand on hers.

“I’m a contractor,” Killian tells her dad. “I used to work with my brother. It’s his business, but I’m the head on projects now. It’s hard and unpredictable sometimes when my job is to make it predictable, but it’s good work. There’s a lot of good new housing popping up in the neighborhoods outside of Boston. Beautiful new construction.”

“What happened to your brother?” her mom asks.

Killian’s hand tightens over hers while his other hand scratches behind his ear. “Liam passed last year. Car accident.”

Mary Margaret places her hands over her chest while Neal and Tamara look at each other, obviously ready to go. Emma, meanwhile, tries not to act shocked. She should know this. She should know that he had a brother who died. She’s heard him talk about Liam before, but she thought…she thought he was alive, just that he lived really, really far away or something like that.

“I’m so sorry, Killian,” Mary Margaret sighs.

“Thank you, Ms. Nolan.”

Silence falls in the room, and it feels like a lot of her time in high school when she got caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to be doing. At least now she can have alcohol or drive away. One or the other, though, obviously.

Or she can go back to that sinking into the ground thing. That seemed like a good idea.

“Oh, would you look at the time,” Tamara sighs with a clap of her hands. “Honey, we need to go.”

“Won’t you stay for dinner?” Mary Margaret asks.

What the hell, Mom?

“We really have to go,” Tamara insists. “It was nice seeing you guys, though.”

“Oh, it was wonderful seeing you, sweetie. Good luck in New York. You’re going to be great at your new job.” Mary Margaret hugs Tamara. “Nice seeing you as well, Neal. You’ll fit right in, but I know your dad will miss you.”

Emma is so busy trying to take in all of this brand new information that she doesn’t hear the rest of the conversation. Through blurred vision, she sees her mom hug Neal, and yeah, Emma wants to go home. She wants to go back to her apartment where she doesn’t have to put up with this kind of shit.

Where there’s no Neal and his fiancée and especially where her mom isn’t hugging her asshole of an ex and treating him like he’s a good person.

There’s a squeeze on her hand and suddenly, Killian’s fingers are wrapping around hers. That’s when everything snaps back, and she realizes Neal is telling her goodbye.

“Yeah, bye,” Emma mutters, putting on that fake smile again.

“Maybe we could go for lunch while I’m still in town,” he suggests.

Emma bites her tongue to keep from scoffing, but she can’t help the words that come out of her mouth. “Yeah, that’s not happening. Have fun in New York.”

Neal looks like a wounded puppy when Emma manages to look at him, but she doesn’t care. He shouldn’t have had the audacity to ask her in the first place, not after everything he’s done.

Happy holidays to them all.

“Emma,” Mary Margaret hisses as soon as the front door has shut and Neal and Tamara are gone, “that was so rude of you! You can go to lunch with Neal.”

“Oh my God, Mom,” Emma groans, letting go of Killian’s hand and standing up. “I am twenty-eight years old. I’m not going to go to lunch with the man who ruined my life because you don’t like being rude. Just…let’s eat dinner, and you guys can tell me what we have planned for this week. Killian is thrilled to go to the play. I told him all about it.”

“Emma, I still don’t think – ”

“Come on, Mary Margaret,” David sighs as he claps his hand on her shoulder. “Let’s get these two dinner. They had a long drive, and I’m sure they’re starving. You like ham, Jones?”

“Love it,” Killian says as he stands from the couch. “Can I help with anything?”

“You can get a wine bottle from the rack.”

They’re all going to need it. Or at least Emma is going to.

Dinner is, well, awkward, which Emma expected, but she expected the usual awkwardness of having dinner with her parents after going a year without seeing them. This is an entire other level. Killian tries to ease it. He’s put on his most charming smile, his accent coming through thicker with each story he tells, and while her Dad seems put out, her mom is every bit as charmed by him as Emma would expect.

That makes it all fine and good until Emma’s reminded that her parents think Killian is her boyfriend, and his place would go down in flames if she told the truth now.

As much as she would like to spite her mom, that is the last thing she needs.

“So, Killian, you can stay in Emma’s room,” her mom says as they finish up dinner. “I’d have you stay in the guest room, but it’s currently filled with props and costumes for the play. But you're both adults. Who are we to keep you apart at night?”

“The couch would be fine,” Killian insists, holding his hands up.

“Nonsense, you are a guest here. You need to be comfortable. Let’s get you all settled and ready for bed.”

It’s almost like she’s in a trance as her mom guides them up the stairs to Emma’s old room. She vaguely hears her tell stories of different pictures hung on the wall by the staircase, but she doesn’t really notice. Instead, she hangs back with her dad who does not look thrilled at the whole situation.

For some reason that offends Emma. As far as her dad knows, she’s brought a man home for Christmas. A man who she loves enough to bring home, which is not all sunshine and roses for her. Once again, she’s jealous of the people who go home for the holidays and know it’s going to be a happy time.

“You know, you don’t have to act like I’m sixteen,” she tells her dad. “I live with this man. I think it’s okay for us to share a bedroom here for the week.”

“What makes you think I’m not happy about this. If you’re happy, I’m happy.”

Emma stops at the landing and turns to her Dad, crossing her arms over her chest and staring him down. Or up. She forgot how much taller her dad is than her.

“Try a little harder to make that believable.”

David laughs and leans forward to kiss her forehead. “Welcome home, kid. I’m glad you and Killian are here.”

-/-

-/-

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[amortentiaboys]

📻  nothing has to change today  🌵

I present to you, an elaboration on @cibeewastaken‘s brilliant post about middle-aged Draco listening to Billie Eilish like the melodramatic git he is!!! (also pls excuse any plot holes/ spelling errors, I wrote this while waiting for my shower to warm up).

Blaise appears in Draco’s flat with a whoosh of green flames, stumbling to keep his footing on the loose fire grate. He keeps nagging Draco to get it fixed, and yet.

He casts a cursory Scourgify on his clothes and straightens, taking a look around the living room. It’s a far cry from the Manor; although elegantly decorated in leather furniture, sumptuous carpets, creams and verdant hues, the worn hardwood floors and the army of plants that Draco insisted on taking under his wing give the flat a warmth that the Manor never had, even when they were children. It’s quiet, quaint. Peaceful.

The sound of a sharp crack at his elbow and a puff of luminous dust draws his attention to a diminutive house elf, wringing her hands and staring up at him with wide, watery brown eyes.

“Sibney is ever so sorry Sir, Master is losing track of time -”

Blaise raises a hand, smiling. “Don’t worry, Sibney. It’s not your fault that Draco has the memory of a Flobberworm. Where’s he hiding?”

The corner of Sibney’s mouth twitches before the a pained expression crosses her face again. She points up at the ceiling. “Master is listening to the Wireless again,” she says solemnly. Now that she’s mentioned it, he can hear the strains of a song floating down the stairs.

Blaise groans. That bloody enchanted Wireless.

“Thank you, Sibney. I’ll check on him.”

He thinks he catches a flicker of relief on her features before she disappears again. Merlin knows how long Draco’s been blasting the thing for.

He heads upstairs.

***

Blaise says nothing as he stands over Draco, waiting to be noticed. Thirty years has evidently done nothing to dull Draco’s penchant for melodrama. This is not news to Blaise, but it is a sight to behold: the prat is sprawled on the bedroom carpet, one hand flung over his eyes whilst the other lies by his side, twitching every so often to replay the same song over and over.

He can’t take it any longer. ''Merlin's beard. Get up, you're scaring the house elves.''

Draco flaps a vague hand in his direction, not even bothering to open his eyes. ''It's fine, they're used to it.''

Sibney peeks around the doorframe and nods her head sagely. ''Master is having the enchanted Wireless on every day, Sir.''

Blaise pinches the bridge of his nose. ''Circe, give me strength. Fine. Fetch us some Earl Grey will you, Sibney?''

The house elf nods, sparing one last pitying (and slightly concerned) look for Draco before trotting off down the hallway.

Blaise sits down on the carpet next to his friend. “She humors you too much. I would have thrown you out onto the street the moment you turned that blasted thing on.”

Draco lolls his head to the side and stares balefully up at Blaise. The years may have etched a few lines around his mouth and grooves between his eyebrows, but he’s still the same melodramatic git that swanned around the Slytherin dormitory and flung himself on Blaise’s (or Theo’s, or Pansy’s) bed whenever he was in a crisis of the heart. “At least someone’s humoring me, with my condition.” 

Blaise blinks, taken aback. He was expecting, as was customary with Draco’s said crises of the heart, a classic Malfoy-esque quip about how of course Blaise wouldn’t have taste when it came to muggle music. It seems he has caught Draco in a very reflective state indeed.

They sit in silence for a while, listening to the girl singing about flying and darkness and love. It all sounds dreadfully morose, but Blaise doesn’t comment on it. He waits silently because Draco seems to be thinking - Merlin knows the prat doesn't do it nearly enough. 

Sibney returns with a tea service and some scones and Blaise dismisses her with a thank you. He sets about halfing a couple of scones, spreading a small amount of butter of jam on one (for him) and monstrous dollops of jam and clotted cream on the other (for Draco). Finally, he decides that Draco's has more than enough time to wallow. 

'Well, spit it out then. What's got you in such a bother you've resorted to sprawling out on the floor and forcing poor Sibney to humor you?”

Draco sighs, still staring up at the ceiling. ''Life is a vale of tears, Blaise.''

''Why, pray tell?''

Another sigh, this one more real. ''Because I'm in love.''

Now that makes Blaise sit up straighter. ''Ah.''

Draco glances sharply at him, eyes narrowed. ''You don't sound particularly surprised.''

Blaise grins like a Cheshire cat. ''I'm not.''  He stands and helps himself to three more scones, shrinking them and squirreling them away in his pockets. ''Well, I'd best be off then.” 

That makes draco sit up, his mouth open in indignation. ''You don't want to know the object of my affections? It could be you!''

''It's not me. Although I know you like them tall, dark and devilishly handsome,” Blaise drawls as he lazily draws a symbol in the air with his wand, watching with mirth as Draco's face pales. ''But I must be off - I have some very important business to attend to.''

Draco scrambles to his feet and narrows his eyes further in suspicion as Blaise begins to back towards the door. ''If you tell anyone else, on pain of death - no stop, Blaise!''

Blaise is still cackling as he Apparates into Pansy's living room. He shouldn't have drawn the lightning bolt but he couldn't help himself. There’s not much time for fun when one is busy plotting and scheming.

“Pansy!”

“Stop yelling, for goodness sake, Hermione’s still asleep -” Pansy stops grousing as she enters the room and sees the glint in Blaise’s eyes. “What?”

“Operation ‘Find Draco Sickeningly-Wonderful Eternal Happiness’ is go.”

Pansy’s face lights up as Hermione stumbles in. “He’s realised?”

“Yep.”

Hermione yawns. “Who’s realised?”

“Draco,” Pansy and Blaise chorus.

It should be scary, the way Hermione instantly snaps to attention, eyes alert and cogs already turning in her head, but all Blaise feels is palpable excitement of epic proportions. This has been years in the making.

“He’s definitely realised?”

“He was listening to Billie Eilish on his bedroom floor, lamenting his seemingly unrequited love,” Blaise says with a knowing smirk at the girls.

Hermione grins.

“Excellent.”

[xmystophalesx]

Best New Heavy Metal Releases Week of August 5th, 2022

Going to try something a little different with the layout. Hopefully to make things easier to find if you are just looking for something in particular. Going to separate the albums by highlight albums, genre standouts and finally good albums that are worth a listen if you simply enjoy the album. Had a request to break it down by genre but thought that might get a little messy as a LOT of albums could conceivably fit into multiple genres. Either way, I hope this helps a bit. Let’s get to the highlights.

Exilium Noctis-Fragments of Apocalypse (Black/Death/Symphonic)**

You want something heavy? I don’t mean just your ordinary heavy; I mean, like HEAVY with all the letters capitalized. Like snap your neck heavy. Like destroying a mosh pit heavy. If that is what you want, this band has everything you need. This is an absolutely perfect mix of Death Metal and Black Metal. One genre never dominates the other and the result is that super heavy sound. This album seriously feels like a weight on your shoulders. The symphonic elements are interspersed perfectly and add an epic feel to the whole undertaking, which makes it feel even (you see a theme here?) heavier. May want to consult a physician before listening to this album.

H.E.A.T.-Force Majeure (Hard Rock/Heavy)**

If you enjoy all the genres Metal offers like me, you may need a little palette cleanser after the Exilium Noctis album. This is about as far in the other direction as you are likely to get. Insanely catchy Hard Rock that has that definite nod to the Glam Metal of the 80s but sounding very modern at the same time. This is just music that will put you in a good mood with sing along choruses, memorable riffs and shredding solos.

Starstrike-Legacy or Destiny (Heavy/Teaditional)**

This was one of the very last additions to the list this week. The logo and album cover just screams Traditional Metal and that is exactly what you get. The band is from Germany and you can hear every earmark of that German Heavy Metal sound throughout the album. If you were to put Accept, Gamma Ray, Paragon, Victory, Primal Fear, Helloween and Bonfire into a blender, this would be the result. Yet another debut album….how these bands are this good, this quick is amazing.

Preterist-Blood Moon Rising (Power)**

I have almost no info on this band. I know they are from the US and they have that European Power Metal sound down to a damn science. Think of a mixture of Stratovarius and Sonata Arctica and you will get close to their sound. Upbeat and catchy with those over the top sing along choruses and shredding guitar solos. Drums with plenty of double bass action and perfectly placed fills. If I had one very slight nitpick, it would be the production could be better. The bottom end doesn’t really come across for my liking. That could easily just be a me thing. Hopefully, I can find out more information about this band.

Perish-The Decline (Melodic Black)**

Time to get back to some feelings of anger, despair, and isolation. Those feelings are palpable on this album and they dive headfirst and wallow in them. The various guitar tones they used to convey those feelings really make this stand out and personally, I think it is a brilliant move. Oh, and did I mention this is a debut album? This is WAY too good to be a debut album. The songs are expertly crafted, and it even feels like they took care with the running order, as it feels like the songs build on each other.

Something else worthy of note. When I went to their Bandcamp page, they have a special edition box set of this album for sale. That isn’t really noteworthy but where the box is from certainly is. It is locally made at a factory next to the label office, which employs disabled people. If you purchase the box set, it helps these people out and if you want to throw a couple extra bucks on the Bandcamp order, the extra money goes directly to this cause. A Black Metal band with an album this furious, but still doing something to better their community? That deserves some praise!

That will do it for this week. I normally try to keep my vinyl purchases to only the pick of the week, but man, that is going to be difficult this week. If you have an opinion on the new layout, let me know. Until next week and, as always,

BANG THY HEAD!!!

All worthy of a listen if you like the genre

*= standout in that genre

**=best of the week regardless of genre

Best of the Best

Exilium Noctis-Fragments of Apocalypse (Black/Death/Symphonic)**

H.E.A.T.-Force Majeure (Hard Rock/Heavy)**

Liminal Shroud-Al Virtues Ablaze (Melodic Black/Atmospheric)**

Perish-The Decline (Melodic Black)**

Psycroptic-Divine Council (Technical Death)**

Starstrike-Legacy or Destiny (Heavy/Teaditional)**

Preterist-Blood Moon Rising (Power)**

Genre Standouts -

Bernatchez-Grief (Symphonic Black/Death)*

Amon Amarth-The Great Heathen Army (Melodic Death/Viking)*

Sun of Dead-Path of the Warrior (Black/Folk/Death)*

David Readman-Medusa (Hard Rock)*

Phrenesy-Fears Apocalypse (Thrash)*

Toxik-Dis Morta (Thrash)*

Ominum-Monument (Thrash/Death)*

Rotting Empire-Buried in the Past (Melodic Death)*

Early Moods-Early Moods (Traditional Doom)*

Circle Creek-The World is On Fire (Heavy/Hard Rock/Sludge)*

Creeping Cats-Losing Strength (Heavy/Traditional)*

Yelbegen-Kafir-I Azam (Black)*

Worth a listen if you enjoy the genre -

Soulfly-Totem (Thrash/Groove)

Draugur-Reflexio (Atmospheric Black)

Stormbound-December (Symphonic Heavy)

Reternity-Cosmic Dreams (Heavy)

Witchslayer-Witchslayer (Heavy/Traditional/Doom/Speed)

Ryker’s-Ours Was a Noble Cause (Hardcore)

Quantum Twilight-Hypersonic Demolition (Power)

Leaving Eden-As Above So Below (Hard Rock)

Annihilation Text-The Order (Death)

Evil In-Age of Immortal Darkness (Death/Thrash)

Triumvir Foul-Onslaught to Seraphim (Death)

Fleshrot-Unburied Corpse (Death)

Van Diemen-Sarcophilus Laniarius (Melodic Death)

Dagger Threat-Weltschmerz (Death/Melodic Death/Hardcore)

Perish takes my Pick of the Week with a debut that is WAY better than you would expect. 5 Solid bulldogs beating the heat out of 5!​

[graymatters]

On Insecurity

Number 12 Grimmauld Place smells absolutely rancid as Draco Malfoy feels the warm wash of the wards permit his entrance. A putrid mix of days-old takeaway, stale whiskey and smoke assaults his senses as he scans the poor state of the front room.

He’s not heard from Harry for weeks. As a result, Draco had initially convinced himself that he’d imagined the last few months. Denial and disbelief progressed to a deep sense of guilt, whispering that he would never have been allowed to keep this anyway. Harry must have finally remembered that the creature he’d let crawl into his bed had ugly scars and a black mark that screamed ‘wretched’ and ‘undeserving.’ Draco knew it would happen eventually. He knew it back in December when Harry, wrapped in a crimson and gold scarf, cheeks flushed a beautiful pink, had actually smiled at him when he entered the pub.

Regardless, Draco had wrung every ounce of bliss that he possibly could out of these weeks. He’d savored each time Harry’s knee had secretly rested against his under the table, every soft touch in the middle of the night and the white hot touches that followed after. The short time they’ve had was more than he deserved and he wasn’t going to hurt Harry by asking for more than he could give.

Draco was well into drowning in his disillusionment when Granger had shown up, frazzled and desperate on his doorstep, asking if he’d heard from Harry. She couldn’t reach him by owl, couldn’t get through his floo and the house was warded shut. The distress in her eyes made Draco’s stomach drop and he cursed himself for allowing his self-deprecating nature to make Harry’s absence all about himself.

He weaves through the neglected home to find Harry in a dark and musty upstairs bedroom, sitting on a worn desk with one knee pulled up under his chin, his other leg dangling off the edge. He’s wearing old pajama pants that are two sizes too big and hang low on his hips, but didn’t make it so far as to put on a shirt. His hair isn’t just unkempt, it’s unwashed and greasy. A thin trail of smoke escapes from the end of a lit cigarette that dangles loosely from his hand. Harry absently watches the curling wisps float out the open window next to him.

He turns when the floor creaks under Draco’s weight. The bright green of his eyes contradicts Harry’s lifeless expression and makes Draco uncomfortable.

“Harry,” he says, because he doesn’t know what else to say. Draco fidgets with a stray string on his sweater and looks at Harry’s hands, his toes that graze the wooden floorboards.

“I’m not up for this right now,” he mumbles, barely above a whisper.

“And what’s that?” Draco asks, raising his eyes to look at Harry’s chewed lips, the anxious scratch marks that trail his neck and chest.

Harry turns to look back out the window. He places the shrinking cigarette between his lips and mutters around it, “A pep talk.” A clump of ash falls and lands on Harry’s knee. He doesn’t seem to notice.

“What if I’m not here for a pep talk? What if I’m here to bum a smoke?” Draco hopes he sounds confident.

“Then you’re shit out of luck,” he shrugs. “Last one,” he says a bit louder and casually blows smoke in Draco’s direction.

Draco steps towards the desk. “May I sit?”

Harry just shrugs again. Not a ‘no,’ Draco thinks. He sits, and brings his knee up to his chest, mirroring Harry’s position.

He glances at the ash pile that still graces Harry’s knee, raising an eyebrow in Harry’s direction. A subtle nod grants him permission and he brushes the ash off of Harry’s threadbare pants. Their fingers brush as Harry passes the cigarette to Draco. The smoke curls deep in his lungs. He blows it out the window and looks towards Harry when he says, “Hello.”

“Hi.”

“How are you?”

“Fine.”

“How are you, really?”

“Shit.”

“I can see that. And smell that.”

Harry huffs a hint of laughter through his nose and aims his gaze towards Draco. “Git.”

“If you wanted sugar-coated truths, you should’ve let Granger through the wards,” Draco shrugs and takes another puff of the cigarette. “This is vile.”

Harry reaches to pluck the cigarette from Draco’s lips. “More for me then.” He places a grin on his face that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but it’s something.

“Thought you were ignoring me,” Draco admits.

“I’m not ignoring you, I’m ignoring everyone.”

“I can see that.”

“Can you smell that, too?” Harry smirks.

Draco ignores him and says, “Figured you’d finally realized the gravity of the mistake you made.”

“Which one?” Harry raises an eyebrow.

“The one where you’re sleeping with your arch enemy and sharing your deepest secrets with an ex-death eater,” Draco whispers.

The smirk disappears from Harry’s face and he says, “Sure, every time I see your face I can’t help but think, yup, definitely fucked that one up.”

“You wouldn’t be the only one if you did. Great conversation starter with my parents.”

Harry reaches out to interlace their fingers and says, “I look at you and ask myself what the fuck I did to earn this. I wonder what you were even thinking, getting anywhere near me after… everything.” He gives Draco’s fingers a squeeze. “You’re the one that should be questioning his decisions right now. Unless you think the unshowered and depressed look is sexy?”

“Honestly, Potter, I don’t think there’s a thing you could do to convince me this is a mistake. And the days-old filth and aura of misery is actually quite the turn-on for me. Had to restrain myself from jumping your bones the minute I saw those tattered pants.” Draco looks down at their hands for a moment before continuing, “Now, contrary to my typical behavior, I am not here to talk about me. Do you care to tell me why no one’s heard from you for weeks?” Draco asks as he watches Harry toss the cigarette butt on the floor. It joins a mess of dirty clothes, half-consumed takeaway containers, dirty utensils and piles of ash.

Harry thinks for a moment before answering, “No.”

Draco sends a stern gaze towards Harry. Harry’s knee falls outward and he releases Draco’s hand to place his palms on the desk. He leans forward so far that their lips are nearly touching. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Draco brings his hands up to cup Harry’s face, smooths his thumb over Harry’s cheekbone. He says, “Okay. What do you want to talk about?”

Harry leans his cheek into Draco’s hand, closes his eyes as he rests against Draco’s support and says, “Hmmm… Have you ever watched a muggle telly? You couldn’t imagine what I had to pay to get this to work in this ancient fucking house, but how could I wallow in self-pity without it? Walburga screamed for days, can’t believe I didn’t invite you for the fun.” Harry proceeds to slip out of Draco’s hands and off the desk to lean against the doorframe. “Would you like to see?”

“How about we get you in the shower first? Self-care is important, Potter. No, I won’t take this nonsense. You find a clean, and I mean clean, towel and I will get the shower started for you. And before you even ask, yes, you must wash your hair. It is required, or Merlin help me, I will leave, you just watch.”

After Harry is washed, they spend the evening with limbs tangled under blankets, eating popcorn that Draco successfully did not burn. Draco mindlessly runs his fingers through Harry’s damp hair, untangling the strands as he goes. They watch reruns of a show called Friends , and Draco laughs but also questions this Ross fellow’s character. It’s nearly midnight when Draco turns to Harry and says, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Harry turns the volume down as Phoebe sings a rude Christmas song. “Hermione’s pregnant,” he says with a finality.

“Ok. You seem sad.”

“I’m not sad. I’m… Fuck, I don’t know. I’m happy for them, I really am. But,” he exhales loudly.

Harry shifts his hips to settle into the sofa a bit more, presses himself against Draco from shoulder to knee. Still uncomfortable, he turns sideways to slide his legs between Draco’s and leans his elbow against the back of the sofa. Draco waits patiently through the nervous repositioning until Harry responds, “I feel a bit... left behind? It’s like everyone else has figured out how to move on. How to, I don’t know, get past the fucking trauma that we went through, and just, keep going. Hermione’s on track to be Minister of Magic by thirty, Ron’s about to overtake Robards as Head Auror, you’ll be running your own ward at St. Mungo’s, I know you will. And here I am, still having god damned nightmares.” He looks into his lap, “I dropped out of auror training. I had a panic attack during a bogart exercise and I just... left.”

Draco reaches up to brush a stray curl off of Harry’s forehead, revealing the beginning of the lightning bolt scar that continues through his left eye and disperses over his cheekbone. “Harry, you are so good, and brilliant, and beautiful. You can still be what you want to be, whatever that is and whoever that is, whenever you want. Or not. You could escape to Reykjavik. You could start a circus for all I care, as long as you’re happy, the context is irrelevant.”

“What would I do in Reykjavik?”

“Soak in the hot springs til you shrivel up like a prune. Fuck if I know, but that wasn’t really the point. Harry, you don’t owe anyone anything. Do what makes you happy and fuck the rest.”

Harry moves to nuzzle his nose into Draco’s neck. His exhalations are hot against Draco’s skin. He traces his nose to follow the line of muscle up behind Draco’s ear, tugs at the lobe with his teeth and whispers, “You make me happy.”

“Well thank fuck for that. We’re not done here, not even close.”

Harry’s breath tickles Draco’s neck, sends a shiver down his spine. “Can we be done for now?” he whispers into Draco’s ear.

Counting the short conversation as a win, Draco lets out an exasperated sigh and says, “For now.” Harry celebrates his victory by licking a stripe up the side of Draco’s neck, making Draco cringe. The shape of Harry’s smile is obvious as his lips trail gently back down Draco’s skin and his hand settles under Draco’s sweater to rest firmly against his ribs.

Also on AO3.

[randomlyrankingthings]

TOP 20 ALBUMS (Part 2 of 2)

Part 1

Dystopia: The Tree of Language - Dreamcatcher (2020)

Favourite Tracks: Black or White, Jazz Bar, In The Frozen

For starters, if you haven’t heard of Dreamcatcher or their amazing music then you are very much missing out. It has taken them a while to reach their place in the mainstream music setting, and they are still sorely underrated. With rock as their central genre, their first full-length album infuses their flawless rock-style with a myriad of other genres - EDM, R&B, and even a bit of jazz. This is one talented group of women, and this album is just one of their many great musical releases.

Ruins - First Aid Kit (2018)

Favourite Tracks: Fireworks, Postcard, Ruins

I do have a soft spot for female folk musicians, and these two Swedish sisters are no exception. Undeniably this is, overall, a very sad album both lyrically and musically, so if you’re looking for music to wallow to then look no further. The highlight of this album is the STUNNING harmonies which can be heard in every track, and are the band’s greatest asset. If you’re a fan of ABBA’s more melancholy songs, or a fan of sad-folk in general, then do give this album a listen. You won’t regret it.

Kaleidoscope Heart - Sara Bareilles (2010)

Favourite Tracks: Gonna Get Over You, King of Anything, Let The Rain

Sara Bareilles is a huge musical inspiration of mine, and it will forever baffle me how she is so underrated by modern music standards. She has an incredible voice, both powerful and soothing, and has some rather incomparable skills on the keys. It was difficult to choose which of her beautiful albums to add to this list, but Kaleidoscope Heart is a nostalgic landmine - for me, anyway. It perfectly encapsulates Sara’s musical style, while having the variety to keep you engaged and refreshed with each track. A world class album from a world class musician.

The Trick To Life - The Hoosiers (2007)

Favourite Tracks: Worried About Ray, Clinging On For Life, Everything Goes Dark

This album is, rather unfortunately, the very epitome of a one-hit wonder. Apologies to any of their more recent fans who disagree with that statement, but it cannot be denied that The Hoosiers have rather fallen off the radar since this brilliant debut release. Falling mostly within the descriptor of indie-rock, this album is full of catchy tracks, all fitting beautifully together to create a very unique sound. They may not be so well-known anymore, but this album will remain iconic for years to come.

The Black Parade - My Chemical Romance (2006)

Favourite Tracks: Welcome to the Black Parade, Famous Last Words

This album is arguably one of the greatest in punk-rock history, and is certainly a MAJOR source of nostalgia for all the emos (past and present) out there. It is absolutely chock-a-block full of hardcore bangers, with some absolutely gorgeous lyrics to go along with the epic drum fills and guitar solos. All of that topped of with Gerard Way's unique, raspy vocals is one stunning addition to My Chemical Romance's already impeccable discography.

The Kids Are Alright - Chloe x Halle (2018)

Favourite Tracks: Cool People, Drop, Fall

These two sisters are full of talent. Writing and producing this spectacular debut album themselves, we get a wonderful example of how to mix pop and R&B in a way that is perfectly unique to them. I will say, this is definitely a must-listen for any Beyoncé fans out there, with the album being released under her label. If you're looking for absolutely stunning vocals and harmonising on top of some top-notch production, this one's for you.

Born To Die (Paradise Edition) - Lana Del Rey (2012)

Favourite Tracks: Off to the Races, Million Dollar Man, Yayo

It was extremely difficult to narrow Lana's albums down to find my favourite, but I had to go with the first one I was blessed with hearing. While the original edition is great by itself, The Paradise Edition gives us a nice handful of extra great tracks. I'm aware that Lana's music can be considered quite polarising, but if you're a fan of sad-core pop and have yet to hear this beautiful album, please do give it a listen. It's the perfect album to listen to while smoking a joint, for one (as all of Lana's albums are, to be honest), and no one can deny how hauntingly beautiful the vocals are on each and every track. This album is a must listen, joint or not.

Six: The Musical (Studio Cast Recording) (2018)

Favourite Tracks: No Way, Heart of Stone, All You Wanna Do

Now, I'd like to preface this choice by saying that if you don't normally enjoy musicals then go into this one with an open mind. Six is a remarkably unique take on the six wives of Henry VIII, however, in a universe where they are alive and in a girl group. We get to see each queen have their shining moment with a solo song that tells the story of their time with Henry from their point-of-view. No two tracks could be considered the same on this album, as each queen takes musical inspiration from a woman in modern music. It has it's cheesy moments, as all musicals do, but if you're willing to give it a chance then you'll be treated to some really clever music and lyrics, and an extremely empowering set of songs.

WARNING - Sunmi (2018)

Favourite Tracks: Black Pearl, Curve

This EP marks the first of Sunmi's since her departure from JYP Entertainment, and the first that we got to hear of Sunmi's own writing and production during her solo career. After a four year solo hiatus, this EP is an absolute treasure for pop music. We get to see Sunmi's longstanding love for 80s synth, having caught a glimpse in her band, Wonder Girls', album 'Reboot' (2015), and the sound perfectly matches Sunmi's overall vibe as an artist. She has released some excellent stuff since this EP - all wonderful in their own right - but this will always remain superior, at least in my opinion.

Turning Tides - Wildwood Kin (2017)

Favourite Tracks: Circumstance, Taking a Hold, The Valley

This one is a treat for any lovers of folk out there. A highly underrated English trio, this debut album has some stunning vocal harmonies which are, honestly, some of the best I have ever heard. It has some nice variety for a folk album, with some more hardcore tracks scattered in amongst some classic folk ballads. Folk is a highly underrated genre, in general, and this band is a highly underrated group of talented women who deserve so much more recognition and success.

[amanda-glassen]

Reality Bites

It's the last day of school in 1992 and Alex is finally going to tell Olivia how she feels...if only she can get five minutes alone with her.

Previous chapters can be found here.

Chapter 7: Slushies and A Hickey the Size of Texas

She may have only known her for about seven hours, but Olivia had already gotten her into the backseat of her car...just not in the way that she had expected. The car had won her a superlative and she was probably the only girl to win the category of Coolest Car in their school’s history, but popularity contests didn’t matter to Olivia and it was evident by the way Olivia tried to shrug it all off while they flipped through the yearbook in the parking lot of a convenience store by their school. 

“You look so cute in this picture!” Alex told her and she did look cute posing for the superlative picture with her red 1991 Mustang GT. Olivia’s car was her pride and joy and, although Alex always skipped the superlative pages in the yearbook, she didn’t want to stop looking at Olivia’s picture. 

Olivia covered the picture with her hand. “Stop! I do not look cute! Superlatives are nothing more than a lame popularity contest, anyway. They don’t mean anything.”

“Says the girl who won one of these lame popularity contests.”

When Alex became distracted with stirring her blue bubblegum flavored slushie－trying to make sure it had the correct ice to syrup ratio－Olivia  grabbed the yearbook and put it in the front seat. Alex began to wonder why Olivia didn’t want to look through the yearbook with her until she remembered the superlative on the next page was “Most Desirable Girl” and along with that title came a picture of Jenna Crossley. Jenna－Liv’s fling throughout the entire school year－and the girl she hoped she wouldn’t spend the rest of the summer comparing herself to. Did she hook up with Jenna in this very backseat?

Olivia scooted over as close as she could so she could rest her head on Alex’s shoulder. “I know what you’re thinking and, no, I didn’t hook up with Jenna or any other girl in this backseat. You’re it for me and, if we ever break up, I’m swearing off women forever. I’ll never love again.”

“You need to stop that,” Alex laughed.

“What?” Olivia asked. She had slurped too much of her cherry slushie, bringing on the inevitable brain freeze. “Son of a...ow…ouch...why do I do this to myself every time? I never learn.” She held her hand to her forehead and squirmed in her seat－anything to keep her mind off of her brain freeze. “Okay, I’m better now.”

Alex noticed Olivia had moved further away when she was squirming, so she wrapped her arm around her waist and pulled her in again. “Every time I try to be introspective, you pull me out of it. You need to stop that and let me wallow in self pity about not having the nerve to ask you out on the first day of school.”

Olivia took another sip of her slushie and, it dawned on Alex that Olivia really never really did learn her lesson, but she thought the brain freeze was cute nonetheless. “Like I said earlier today, it’s my compulsive adorable syndrome,” Olivia responded, trying to downplay the effect of her second brain freeze. “And you can’t place the blame on yourself. I could have asked you out, too. I could have asked you out every single weekend. Plus, there was prom and homecoming and winter formal and Sadies, but we can’t waste our time thinking about that. We just have to make the most of the next three months.”

That morning, Alex’s friends had asked her what she liked about Olivia. She told them, physically, she liked everything about Olivia and she did, but with every passing moment, the list of things she liked about Olivia grew longer. Beyond just her smile and her figure－the two things that first attracted her to Olivia－Alex liked how Olivia’s hands fit so perfectly with hers, how Olivia’s lips felt against hers, how Olivia, in such a short period of time, had seamlessly integrated her into her world and, it made Alex smile to think about it, but she even liked how Olivia used three Ninja Turtles band-aids on her knee to cover some scrapes that she got from a failed skateboarding trick. Most importantly, there was now the list of non-superficial things she liked about Olivia. No one had ever made her laugh the way Olivia did. No one had ever comforted her the same way Olivia did and no one had ever made her feel as alive as Olivia did.

During the drive to the convenience store, they both discovered that the other had a love for the classics and, although they were still in the parking lot, they left the radio on so they could listen to some of the feel good songs that reminded them of childhood or, in Alex’s case, the childhood that she had fantasized about having. When a Beach Boys song came on, Alex noticed Olivia smile uncontrollably.

“I heard this song with Tim the other day and it gave him the not-so-brilliant idea that he and I should go surfing this summer,” Olivia shook her head. “Because he said, and I quote, surfing is just like skateboarding but on water.”

“Are you going to try it?”

“No way! It’s nothing like being on a skateboard. I can’t get swept away by some strong current or bitten by a shark while skateboarding. There’s no way in hell I’ll try it and nothing can change my mind.”

Alex gave her a chaste kiss and it made her heart happy to see how that single kiss made Olivia shy all of a sudden. “That’s too bad because I think you’d look so hot on a surfboard. I can already picture you in a wetsuit top and some bikini bottoms. I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off of you.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“I’ll try it!” Olivia said almost too enthusiastically. “And, yes, I’m well aware of how easy you can make me change my mind about anything in your own...special...way and I’m okay with that.”

Seeing that Olivia was finished with her slushie, she took the cup from her and put it in the cupholder in the front seat along with her own. While bent over the center console, she rummaged through her backpack until Olivia playfully pulled her back over and she accidentally or maybe not so accidentally landed on top of her. “Liv!”

“What?” Olivia laughed. “As much as I was enjoying the view of you in that position, I missed you.” 

“What did you miss?” Alex asked playfully.

“Kissing you,” Olivia responded before gently biting Alex’s lower lip. “Touching you.” 

Alex didn’t know what had come over her and the girl she was that morning wouldn’t have believed it, but she straddled Olivia right then and there in the backseat of her car. “Is this okay?” she asked, her shyness suddenly returning to her.

“Alex,” Olivia said softly, her hands now caressing Alex’s back, underneath her Harvard t-shirt. “Anything you ever want to do in this position is okay with me.”

“Liv!” Alex blushed.

“I’m serious!” Olivia said in between kisses. “With a single kiss, you convinced me to go surfing. I don’t even want to know other ways you can convince me to do things. Wait, nevermind. I actually do want to know all the ways you can convince me to do things.”

“Olivia!” Alex laughed. She wanted to maintain her composure, but instead she leaned in so she could bury her face in the crook of Olivia’s neck. She started to delicately kiss her neck, smiling when she noticed one of her kisses had tickled Olivia, but it wasn’t long until the playful gesture wasn’t enough for Alex. She gently nibbled on her neck, tasting just a hint of saltiness on her skin. Alex didn’t want to admit it, but even the taste of Olivia’s sweat turned her on. Was it Olivia’s sex pheromones or some other term from 10th grade honors biology causing this? Why am I thinking of my 10th grade bio class right now? But when Alex heard Olivia moan, she no longer cared about that class or anything other than making Olivia elicit that sound again.

“Kiss me,” Olivia said, the tone of her voice making her words sound somewhere between a question and a command. 

Alex felt Olivia’s hands gripping her thighs, pulling her in even closer. Olivia’s hands on her body made her feel even more turned on than she had ever felt before, almost to the point where it hurt and feeling Olivia’s tongue in her mouth did nothing to ease her tension. It wasn’t her first time making out with Olivia that day, but Alex knew this was different－unbridled even－and the way she felt Olivia’s tongue moving in her mouth made her wish she could feel it on one part of her body in particular.

...and that’s when she heard the perfect song start playing on the radio. It was the perfect song while she made out with her perfect girl. The song was nearly thirty years old and, whenever she listened to it in her bedroom on one of her mom’s old 45s, she thought about Olivia and what it would be like to kiss her and slow dance with her. Slow dancing with her would have to wait until tomorrow night, but until then she was still able to kiss her as much as she wanted. She hoped Olivia wouldn’t notice, but her mind started to wander. With every kiss, she realized it wouldn’t be long before she fell in love with Olivia－if she wasn’t falling in love with her already. 

Alex had found the 45 in a trinket box in the attic just a few months ago. There were five trinket boxes that Alex had rummaged through one autumn night. Each box was identical except for the boy’s name that it was labelled with and inside were old photographs, love letters, and records with love notes written on the sleeve. These boys were all a part of her mother’s youth－the carefree time in her life before she had a husband and children. Mrs. Cabot never kept her children’s old art projects and Mother’s Day cards, but she kept all of her old photographs and love letters there in the attic as a testament to who she once was and Alex wished she could have known this version of her mother. 

With Olivia leaving in three months, she began to wonder if their relationship would eventually become nothing more than little trinkets in a box that she’d occasionally revisit. She figured the two of them would continue a long-distance relationship for the first semester until winter break when Olivia would tell her that she had met someone－maybe she lived down the hall or they met at a party－Alex wasn’t sure, but she knew it’d be Olivia that would find someone because being clear across the country from her family and friends would leave her wanting to feel something or even someone again. They’d share a night of angry breakup sex, or so Alex assumed based on what she had seen in movies, before never seeing each other until their later in their adult lives, at their 20-year high school reunion or some other cliche meetup. They’d both be someone’s wife and maybe even someone’s mother. The two of them would share a few minutes of awkward conversation and, in that brief period of time, she’d wonder what might have been before realizing Olivia was no longer that playful, grungy girl with piercings and a Ninja Turtle band-aid, but it wouldn’t matter because that eighteen-year-old girl would live on in that trinket box filled with some mixtapes and whatever else Alex was able to collect during the summer and maybe autumn of 1992. 

Her thoughts were interrupted by Olivia pulling away from her kiss. Those dark brown eyes were looking into hers with so much concern and so much sincerity that they were all Alex could focus on until Olivia started to kiss her newly-formed tears. “Let’s stop, okay?”

“Why?” Alex asked, although she felt it was obvious why Olivia wanted to stop.

Olivia held her as close as she could while Alex rested her head on her shoulder. “Because the place you were in right now－where making out is just going through the motions while you’re thinking of something or someone else－I’ve been there before and I know how much it hurts.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to kiss you. I’m just thinking about the future and－”

“And me leaving in September?” Olivia asked as she continued to hold Alex. “Like I said on the football field, I’m leaving this state, but I’m not leaving you. But, really, you don’t know me that well yet, Alex. Maybe in September, you’ll be glad I’m leaving.”

“That’s impossible.”

“You say that now, but wait until we have an entire three months at each other’s side,” Olivia teased. “Let’s see...my IQ goes down a few points every time I hang out with my brother and Travis. My favorite show is Beavis and Butt-head. You just witnessed that I never learn my lesson with brain freezes. My parents think I spend most of my life looking like I just woke up. That’ll go over well with your parents at the country club. Can you imagine? They’re expecting their daughter’s girlfriend to be some cute, preppy girl and instead they’ll get me in ripped jeans and a men’s flannel shirt. No, I’ll clean up nice for them and I’ll make sure to clean up nice for you tomorrow night. I’m sure there’s a presentable young woman somewhere underneath all of this.”

“Olivia!” Alex laughed. Although she wasn’t out to her parents yet and she didn’t know when or if her parents would actually meet her, Olivia had managed yet again to make her laugh when she was feeling low.

“There’s my girl. You have the cutest laugh and I’m willing to do anything to make you laugh, even if it’s at my own expense.”

Alex was about to kiss Olivia again when they heard the sound of someone hitting Olivia’s driver’s side window with the palms of their hands. “Get it, sis!”

“Tim!” Olivia glared at him. Olivia may have been frustrated, but Alex found the whole situation amusing and she knew that as long as she was with Olivia, she’d be subjected to teasing from Olivia’s stepbrother and their friends.

“Get out of the car. I gotta show you something.”

Olivia gave Alex one last kiss. “Let me go settle him. I’ll be right back.”

“Brainiac Barbie, too,” Tim told her. “I have a present for her. Wait, the grape slushie is here now? Old Man Henderson said not until July.”

“...no?” Olivia gave him a confused look.

When they got out of the car, Alex noticed Travis was now standing out there with Tim. There were two guys in the backseat of Tim’s car and it didn’t take long for Alex to realize it was her brother and her brother’s best friend, Carisi. 

“Minor niners, out of the car!” Tim ordered.

Carisi was completely unscathed, but Alex tried to control her laughter when she saw her brother. Tim had put maroon lipstick on him, some glittery eyeshadow, and an obnoxious amount of bright pink blush on his cheeks. “Forget something?” her brother Josh asked. “You and Olivia promised that you’d be there early to pick me up.”

Their fifteen minute window of opportunity to get slushies before picking up Josh had turned into the two of them hanging out in the backseat of Olivia’s car for nearly an hour. “Josh, I’m sorry.” Alex tried to sound sincere, but her laughter made Josh think otherwise.

“Sure, you are,” Josh folded his arms and glared at his sister. “I got dirt on you, Alex, so you－wait, why is your tongue purple?” His tone of voice was no longer angry. “Is the grape slushie here now? Old Man Henderson said not until July.”

Before she could respond, she noticed Casey pulled up into the parking lot with Connie in the front seat and Amanda Rollins in the back. “Amanda’s gonna see me like this?” Josh smacked Tim on the arm and Tim shoved him in return. 

“Like you had a chance,” Tim snickered. “Amanda doesn’t like either of you clowns.” 

With Connie, Casey, and Amanda now with them, Alex felt bad for how embarrassed her brother was until she remembered that he was probably going to spend the rest of the summer blackmailing her. 

“Change of plans,” Casey told Alex. “We’re not going to the park.”

“We’re going swimming at Abbie’s instead,” Connie added. Swimming at Abbie’s house? That means Olivia in a bikini.

“But Georgia Peach, here, still has to do our snack run,” Casey pointed out.

“A snack run?” Josh asked in disbelief. “Is that what girl hazing is?” But the girls ignored him while they looked at Alex and Olivia.

“The grape slushie is here?” Casey asked in disbelief. “Last week, Old Man Henderson said it wouldn’t be here until July.”

“What’s everyone’s obsession with the grape slushie?” Olivia asked. 

“Look where you’re at,” Connie reminded Olivia. “You’re not in Manhattan anymore. The only thing to look forward to in this town is a new slushie flavor.”

“Wait a minute, you weren’t even excited about the grape slushie,” Josh reminded his sister. “You’re predictable when it comes to slushies. You always get blue bubblegum.”

“Liv always gets cherry,” Tim added. “I tease her every time about her wanting a cherry in her mouth and then she slugs me in the arm. It’s a thing we have.”

“There’s no grape slushie!” Olivia said in a frustrated tone of voice. “Why do you all think Alex and I had grape slushies? I had cherry. Alex had blue bubblegum. Can we shift our focus to something else now?”

Casey started laughing uncontrollably before hugging Alex. “I’m so happy for you. You, too, Olivia.”

“What’s going on?” Carisi asked. “Old Man Henderson wasn’t lying? There’s really no grape slushie?”

“You guys are so dense,” Amanda told him. “Think back to kindergarten. Combining red and blue gives you…”

“Purple!” Josh responded. “If Alex had a blue slushie and Olivia had a red slushie and both of them have purple tongues...then that means...eww, that’s disgusting! I got hazed, Alex, because you were too busy sucking face with Olivia to pick me up?”

Alex didn’t know whether she wanted to keep laughing at her brother’s misfortune or hide because of how he had just announced to everyone what she and Olivia had been doing, but just as she had been doing all day, her girl made it better for her.

“Leave her alone,” Olivia told him and she put her arm around Alex to hold her close to her side. “...or I’ll make you leave her alone. What Tim did is nothing compared to what I can do to you.”

Tim roughly patted Josh’s shoulder. “She’s not lying, man. She is not lying. By the way, Liv, you got a hickey the size of Texas on your neck. Tomorrow’s your graduation day and you know Mom and Dad are gonna lose it.”

Alex expected Olivia to be as embarrassed as she was, but Olivia was in control of the situation. “I’ll just put some neutralizer and foundation over it,” Olivia smirked. “No big. Being with Alex is worth any trouble I’ll get in.”

“Don’t soil our valedictorian’s good name,” Travis said jokingly. 

“She’s soiling it herself,” Casey responded. “Finally!”

They were teased mercilessly for the next few minutes, but none of it phased Olivia. In fact, she took it in stride. She held Alex and kissed her cheek and told her how beautiful she was regardless of how much teasing they got for it. Before long, Alex stopped caring about the teasing and just revelled in the feeling of being in Olivia’s arms. Pretty soon, her world would change and she knew she’d miss this when she moved to Boston－hanging out with her friends and her girl in the parking lot of a convenience store in a town where a new slushie flavor and a new couple were a big deal.

“So, there’s really no grape slushie yet?” Josh asked. “You’re saying if I go in there and ask Old Man Henderson－”

“For the last time, Josh,” Olivia began. “There is no grape slushie and if you ask about it again...”

[popcorn-ready-films]

Hoodwinked! (2005)

Little Red Riding Hood fights for justice but the big bad wolf is... innocent?! And her grandma is keeping secrets?!

[Spoiler Warning!] 

The fairytale of little red riding hood had several interpretations as much as it had several versions. Some say it has symbolisms of a girl transitioning through womanhood, some that it was a reminder for children not to talk to strangers. And much like its fellow siblings from the Grimm brothers, the story had several adaptations and spin-offs, all exploring in great variety the characters, the plot, and even its symbolisms. Among the assorted lot of movies that has ever included the fairytale, I believe that it was most creatively explored by the 2005 movie, Hoodwinked. 

Reimagined into a more modernized setting of investigation to figure out the bad guy, the animated film brilliantly integrated mystery and comedy in this family-oriented movie! It was interesting to see the characters reinterpreted into such that they have their own stories through their own point of views and how it all unfolds to a hidden antagonist, the real sweets recipe thief, the bunny.

I have to note how they made use of its naturally symbolic characters in the fairytale and put it to the animated film’s advantage, wisely teaching one of the most important values to its target audience, the kids, which is to not judge a book by its cover. Notice how they used the sly looking wolf as a diligent employee, a sweets-making grandma into a daredevil, a big clumsy man into a precious cinnamon roll of a dreamer, and the unassuming and naturally friendly neighborhood bunny as the plot twist antagonist.

Other than that obvious surprise element, I think Red Riding Hood’s strong and assertive character contributes a lot to the overall mood of the plot. Story-wise, it has proven itself quite the literary masterpiece however  many have complained about the animation of the movie because of its evident difference compared to those from bigger names. In that regard, let’s look at the things most have overlooked, the things they did right:

1. Red is Blue

We simply cannot overlook this witty part of the movie, not only lyrically, but in visual terms. Notice how the scenes gradually unfold from well-saturated colors to blue during this iconic scene of betrayal:

Notice how the picture above, a scene before the betrayal, is obviously more vivid in color scheme in comparison to the one below where the colors have started to saturate lesser, a part of the scene where she learns of her grandmother’s lies.

Eventually gradating fully to blue as she wallows in the emotions below, leaving the red hood that she’s always been identified with, an identity given to her by her grandmother:

2. Nostalgic Scenes

The warm palette of the reminiscing scenes cover the intended tone exactly as it fits. No further explanation is needed.

3. The Suspicions

It was brilliant how in every story, they managed to express who they found suspicious by having different suspicious looking characters as we go through each of their povs! See this for example, in red and grandma’s perspective, where the wolf was suspicious:

Meanwhile, in wolf’s perspective:

He was also finding out the truth for his story.

4. Lastly, the goat yodeling through the roller coaster ride.

Please, this was the epitome of pacing. Plus, its so catchy. 

I could feel the thrill of the ride because of how he gradually starts speeding up his song. The audio and the visuals worked so well together, I who was simply watching it, also felt the pressure of riding it.

Welp, I guess you already know by now that this movie is definitely a popcorn-ready film for me! Definitely something you could let your kid watch to make babysitting a little easier on you! Now go give this movie some more love! It’s been underrated for so long *insert crying face*. 

Anyways, that is the end of this week’s post from Popcorn-ready Films! Peace out!

[magic-can]

4, 12, 22, and a question of your choice :)

I’m so sorry that I didn’t see this sooner! For some reason I didn’t get a notification for this, even tho I have them turned on. Love this perfectly functioning app.

4. A song that hypes you the fuck up

Okay so. I’ve been listening to I Am…All Of Me from the soundtrack to Shadow The Hedgehog (2005) AKA one of the games of all time a lot recently and every time I listen to it I have the urge to absolutely jam out. Go a little wild even. One of the best things to come out of that game, for sure. An awesome song about an awesome character, you love to see it

12. A song to listen to whilst you lie in a meadow

The the ambient themes to the various hub worlds from Spyro 2 (Summer Forest, Autumn Plains, Winter Tundra), they’re all very peaceful and honestly the perfect music for this exact scenario.

22. A song that makes you feel like you’re strolling through Ancient Greece living your best life

I don’t know anything about Ancient Greece, and honestly it seems the least interesting compared to other old civilizations imo. Do you know what isn’t boring? The soundtrack to Disney’s Hercules, which is about Greek mythology. So that’s my answer, the Hercules soundtrack bc it just absolutely jams.

23. A song that when you listen to it you’re transported to a liminal space, time is pointless and you must sit and wallow in the void that remains

I chose this one for the one of my choosing because as soon as I saw this prompt, I thought of White Noiz from the Silent Hill 2 soundtrack. It fits perfectly, given that this is Silent Hill. Chillingly beautiful and unnerving track. Akira Yamaoka is brilliant.

[orionsangel86]

“I Think It’s Time For Me To Move On”

...And Other Things That Have Destroyed Me This Weekend...

So there is this common trope within love stories which generally happens at the end of the second act in which everything goes wrong and we all think that the lovers are doomed to failure. Its pretty much standard in every Jane Austen novel, every romantic film every made, every single bloody love story. Go ahead, name one. I guarantee you the break up moment is there.

Within the epic love story of Dean and Cas, there have been many break up moments, and all have had their emotionally devastating impact on the relationship and the show...

But THIS was a different level. 

(For a nice summary of Destiel break up moments and understanding of this trope, @tinkdw​ wrote about it here.)

I didn’t think that there would be another moment within Dean and Cas’s relationship that could hit me this hard. The mixtape in 12x19, the wrapping of Cas’s body in 13x01, and the return of Cas in 13x05 are moments that I consider to be the very top of the scale in making this pairing undeniably romantic. Moments that pushed it beyond a platonic interpretation. These three moments have been the things I cling to when the show has otherwise made me doubt any conclusion to the DeanCas story, and since there hasn’t been another one of those moments since 13x05, until now I have been somewhat nervous that the story was dropped, or being forced back behind a platonic screen. 

15x03 has ripped that screen away. 

Emotional meta under cut...

This entire episode was an emotion fuelled dramatic roller-coaster that killed off three characters including our beloved witch queen in a scene that almost stole the show and practically canonised the SamWitch ship. Rowena’s death should have been by far the most torturous moment for viewers to endure, and it was extremely torturous and had me sobbing on a plane 3 hours into a 7 hour flight. That incredibly heartfelt moment between Sam and Rowena will probably go down as one of the top tear-jerking moments on this show. It was tragic in the best way - the way Supernatural is famous for.

But lets not gloss over the fact that in an episode where THAT should have been the climax, where THAT should have been the emotional highlight and end point, instead we get a further MORE dramatic stand off between Dean and Cas that pulled focus and ripped all of our hearts out just as violently as poor Ketch in the first act (a very clever and smug piece of meta foreshadowing there Mr Berens).

On a meta level, this is HUGE as a writing choice because they MUST know how this looks. This was the climax of the third episode of the finale season. The way Supernatural has always structured itself since Carver era is that the first three mytharc episodes of each season establish the direction of the story and set the foundations for the character level focal points and dramatic key notes to come. 

That the writers have chosen to end the foundation episodes with a DeanCas break up moment that was more dramatic than a Spanish Telenovela has just stunned me and left me reeling because I just can’t see how else this can go. This break up scene absolutely DEMANDS a huge reconciliation of the sort that will be part of the A plot of the season - the FINAL SEASON. Guys. Part of the reason I have been so quiet and so disillusioned with the show during late season 13 and season 14 was because they pushed any Destiel plot into non existent territory - it became kinda irrelevant and Dean and Cas just acted like friends (homoerotic friends yes, and sometimes like an old married couple, but it was mostly played as an afterthought imo), so for this to suddenly be brought to the forefront of the emotional story again is excellent news for us. 

The thing is, like with those huge moments I listed above, the break up scene is basically undeniably romantic when you break it down to its components:

1. It’s only Dean and Cas. 

Once again we have another scene of high stake emotions that excludes Sam. In a platonic reading of the show, it makes zero sense for there to be such a hugely disjointed relationship between Cas and Dean and Cas and Sam given he has known them both for so long now that if they were all “just friends” then surely Sam would also feel the impact of Cas’s choices as heavily as Dean. In a platonic reading, Dean comes across as an asshole, Sam comes across as being weirdly uncaring about his friend of 10 years, and Cas comes across as not even bothering to get Sam’s opinion before leaving. A romantic reading makes sense because quite literally THIS IS A ROMANTIC BREAK UP.

2. The words spoken. 

“Well I don’t think there is anything left to say.”

“I think it’s time for me to move on”

From Cas’s perspective at least, name one time in a piece of media where such language has been used for a platonic breakup sincerely? There have been heartfelt break up songs that use these exact words. (I should know I’ve spent the last 24 hours listening to them all).

That last line in particular is so heavy. It’s the last line of the episode and nothing about it is platonic. This is relationship terminology my dudes. “I need to move on, and get over you.” This is Cas’s bloody Adele song. My heart breaks for him, but if I was his sassy and fabulous best girlfriend right now I’d be sitting him down, sipping a cocktail, flipping my hair and telling him “Babe, you’re too good for him. Good Riddance. Let’s go out, have some cocktails, something pink and fruity. No dive bars for us darling. I’ll take you to Heaven... the fun one in London.”

In all seriousness though, from Cas’s perspective, this was him admitting defeat and giving up the fight for love. How anyone can possibly say Cas isn’t in love with Dean after this, well I just don’t know what show you are watching. This is the face of a heartbroken man who has just accepted that his love is unrequited. 

3. The many faces of Dean Winchester

On the other end of the scale, Dean was mostly silent after his poisonous words “And why does that something always seem to be you?”

Forgive the terrible gif quality I’ve no time for fancy gif work!

Look at his face here. He knows what he said was fucked up and he immediately regrets it. The way he swallows around that regret and then turns away.

and after Cas says that devastating final line and walks away? We get THIS reaction from him:

The jaw clench as he looks down. The sorrow on his face as he realises he has well and truly fucked this up. LOOK

Finally, he looks up, makes himself look up and watch Cas leave. If that isn’t the face of a broken man I dunno what to tell you. Anyone who thinks Dean is totally heartless and uncaring right now needs to reassess because this is NOT the face of someone uncaring. This is the face of someone who has just lost everything. Again. 

4. The FUCKING MUSIC

Seriously. The sweeping heavy drama of the low strings that come in right after Dean says that horrid line, that carry the weight of the look of horror and heartbreak on Cas’s face as they amplify the emotion there. As they blend seamlessly into the slow and subtle version of the Winchester family theme behind Cas’s heartbreaking speech and Dean’s stubborn stoic face hiding a multitude of emotion, until the violin dominates as Cas says “I think it’s time for me to move on” and the Winchester Theme swells to its climax, ripping all our hearts out just like poor Ketch as Dean watches Cas walk out of his life surrounded by darkness. 

I MEAN.

A friend on Twitter reminded us all of this point about the importance of this theme via @justanotheridijiton​ here which is essentially:

“The Winchester theme is not simply an aural marker to let the audience know when and how Sam and Dean love each other (any Supernatural fan knows that is the baseline of their relationship), but to provide narrative information, especially when the image and dialogue are incomplete or inconsistent with the true situation...  Seasoned fans will recognize the theme and its history of being paired with images indicating deep emotional bonding and a desire to do the right thing by the Winchester code. Here we trust our ears over our eyes to reveal the truth.”

So here is yet another key indicator that any surface read that this is actually an ending between Dean and Cas and that Dean really is just an angry asshole is utter bullshit. 

Honestly, this was PAINFUL, but it was painful in the best way. It was 13x01 levels of pain, but this time it was Cas choosing to walk away which makes all the difference. Dean’s greatest fear isn’t his loved ones dying on him after all, but of his loved ones choosing to leave him. This was exactly the kick up the ass Dean needs in order to win Cas back, classic love trope style. 

Hence my excitement at what is to come. Yes we won’t see Cas again until 15x06, but in the meantime I fully expect a good helping of angst and wallowing from a depressed Dean who has to deal with the fact that he has just lost the love of his life and it is all his fault. That he just pushed away the one person who promised they would always stay by his side. That has got to hurt. 

So yeah, this episode emotionally destroyed me, and I’ve only really covered the primary reason, let alone all my feels over SamWitch, Rowena’s death, Belphegor’s taunting of Cas over his deepest fears and then having to suffer through smiting a creature wearing the face of his son until his body was nothing but a burnt corpse... I wonder if Bobo had a bet going in the office over how much he could hurt us all? He was certainly enjoying scrolling through the Supernatural tag on Twitter and liking everyone’s reaction tweets including some brilliant Destiel related ones. I do love Bobo. Our Angst Goblin King. 

If anyone had asked me a few weeks ago what my thoughts were on the chances of getting explicit canon Destiel by series end, I would have said somewhere in the realms of 30-40%, considering it a battle of wills between DabbBerens and CW studio execs who I still feel are against it in general. I would have considered everything that happened after 13x06 as the writers getting a big NO on Destiel from the network and therefore having to pull back on any Destiel related plot points (purely my own speculation on BTS matters of course).

Now I am wondering if Dabb kept fighting the network? If he managed to wear them down into begrudging acceptance? I’m currently up to around an 80% chance of textual canon DeanCas if we continue on this path. If Dean is clearly shown to be mourning and hating himself over Cas next episode, and if this DeanCas dramatic plot line continues to be a focal point of the emotional story arcs... well...

I’m side eyeing 15x07 a lot right now. Only in my wildest dreams would I think that they might actually introduce an old boyfriend for Dean in a “coming out” episode, but the placement, timing, and potential is all there and I’m kind of once again donning the clown mask because I’m just in awe at everything that they are doing. I guess we’ll find out soon enough. In the meantime, I’m gonna paint my face in red and white and wear my rainbow wig and listen to break up songs on Spotify whilst trying to shove my heart back into my chest where Bobo Beren’s gleefully ripped it out with his hands like the demonic angst goblin he is. Wish me luck, I’m not sure I’m gonna get through this season with my emotions intact.

[write-a-bad-romance]

Conversation Over (Isaac x Mozart Modern AU)

Characters: Isaac Newton and Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart from Ikemen Vampire, some OCs

Pairings: Isaac x Mozart

Rating: T 

This is a companion piece to Stolen Batteries. Also available on Ao3.

Take out your heart and let it sit in the freezer.

Wolf lifted his head from the crook of his arm and stared into the darkness of his apartment.

Well, if it weren’t for the sunlight filtering in from the window. Reluctantly, the young composer rose from his chair to close the curtains.

Wolf hated the city lights. To him, they were nothing but noise when contrasted against the dark, unpolluted skies of the countryside.

“This is the best condition for stargazing.” The young man in front of him beamed as he set up the telescope.

That was another reason why Wolf kept the curtains shut throughout the entire night.

His surroundings were silent, save for the distant noise of traffic down below. Begrudgingly, Wolf admitted that his father had a point in pushing him this far. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have received enough commission to rent this high-rise apartment, with all its perks.

“Must be great having included housekeeping and laundry,” a voice called from the bathroom. “You can doss around on weekends and catch some sleep.”

Wolf returned to his desk and took a swig of cold, bitter coffee. Drowsily, he reached for his iPhone and unlocked it. It was 8 a.m. And there were three missed calls from Antonio.

That geezer. Immediately, Wolf pressed ‘call’ and barked to the other man. “What business do you have calling me this early?”

“Wolf! Good to know you’re already up and running!” Antonio greeted him cheerfully with his trademark raspy voice. “Get to the studio. There’s some trouble with the lyrics for the final track in the soundtrack.” 

“Lyrics? You think I’m a pop singer or something?”

“You- argh! We haven’t got time!” Antonio yelled. “Come on, Wolf. Help me out here!”

The white-haired youth sat down and stared at the hardwood floor in thought. He wasn’t in the mood to hear the old man rave, but taking a break from composing and seeing what his colleagues were up to seemed like a savory idea.

Better than wallowing alone in this empty apartment, at least.

“Alright. Give me an hour.” He sighed.

Wolf stared into blank space as Antonio and Cerise, the producer, went back-and-forth with the two girls over some lyrics sheet. Compared to Cerise’s composed tone, Antonio’s rankling voice was an irritant to his ears.

“Look, I understand you feel the need to do some experimentation with this piece,” the dark-skinned woman spoke coolly to the fuming man. “But you gotta at least listen to what the girls want. This is their song, after all.”

“You, you don’t get it!” Antonio yapped. “Don’t you want to produce something more than uninspired bops that the billboards churn every month or so?”

“If we’re talking about direction, then we need to go back to the lyrics and the impression you wanted to make,” Cerise turned to Bo-ram, one of the singers. “What did you have in mind while writing this?”

“Well,” Bo-ram shuffled through the notes and pointed at one of the papers. “It’s not made for any particular scene or anything. We just thought it’d fit these two characters…”

Wolf leaned back in his seat and gazed at the ceiling, propriety be damned. It wasn’t as if they acknowledged him or anything.

“You’re kinda quiet today, Wolf. Something the matter?” Cerise suddenly called to him with a hint of concern.

The young composer returned his attention to the bickering group, who were now gawking at him in silence.

“Eh, don’t mind him.” Antonio waved. “He’s gotten his panties in a twist since last week.”

You were the one who called me here, dummkopf. “Watch it.”

Although, had it really been only over a week?

Wolf dismissed the thought, “Let’s get to the recording booth, then. I want to hear what it sounds like." 

Wolf closed his eyes as he listened through the entire song.

While it wasn’t something that he’d composed (mainstream pop wasn’t exactly his cup of tea), but he had to admit that it was easy on the ears and that the vocals were indeed powerful. While he didn’t have much faith in the girls at first, they’d really outdone themselves this time.

"What’s the problem then?” He turned to Cerise and Antonio.

“The problem,” Cerise flashed a dry smirk. “Is that this guy here wants to add another rap on top of that existing rap.”

“You don’t understand!” The other man screeched. “I’m doing this for Bo-ram’s favor. I mean, the way she raps!”

You know jack about rap. Wolf wanted to say. Neither do I, to be honest.

While he did show some interest in rap once in a while, he never really took the plunge. Wherever his heart led, his brain would follow. There was simply not enough room for rap on top of his piling lists of concerns, both musical and not.

But Antonio was right. There was something in the way Bo-ram fired her words. He had to be sure.

“Let me hear that rap one more time,” Wolf instructed. “Without music.”

Bo-Ram did as she was told, under the strict man’s scrutinizing gaze. But even that wasn’t enough. “Again, with music.” He demanded.

Wolf listened intently to every word Bo-ram fired. It wasn’t just her (admittedly, brilliant) play of words and rhythm, but there was also her intensity with which she uttered her lines. He never once pictured anybody conveying such raw energy through meticulously crafted strings of words.

“What was the idea behind the song, again?” He asked Cerise pointedly.

“Oh, it’s about the game’s main character separating with his first girlfriend and some leftover  feelings.”

Leftover feelings.

Clearly, the rapper knew how to speak from the character’s point of view. She was his mouthpiece —or was that the other way around?

To him, she was rapping all her intent and emotion to a phantom —someone who wasn’t part of the audience. He supposed that he and the rapper had a lot in common. Even the most amateur of listeners could pick up all his emotions in every stroke, every note that flowed through his fingers. 

The audience was aware of his desires, but for whom?

They could build an image from bits of emotion they managed to gather, but never the entire portrait. The song is a fragment of stories, painting disjointed scenes of strife and peace without telling the tale in its entirety.

Wolf picked up his pen and set it on the paper. He rarely ever put his emotions into words, but for some reason, just this once, he wanted to try.

"Give me a second. I think I can come up with something.”

In the quiet of the next room over, Wolf stared at the blank sheet, his trembling hands capping and uncapping his pen.

Leftover feelings were not something he dealt with often since separations, throughout his history, were clean and impersonal, in his own words.

He had so far lived up to his reputation as an ice king, cold. So why? 

It never mattered to him who pulled the trigger and left the other to bleed. Wolf wasn’t always harsh. His upbringing compelled him to apologize when he needed to (with a straight face, of course), and leave. The sooner, the better.

He always made sure there were no pieces left to pick.

So why? He twirled the pen between his fingers. Why? Why? Why?

He loathed the feeling of waking up to an empty apartment. He wished for the physicist to step out of his door again, his hair all ruffled and eyes surrounded by dark circles after pulling another all-nighter. 

How ugly he looked as he sat on the table, scowling at his coffee mug and muttering about accidentally deleting parts of his thesis draft or complaining about his nagging supervisor.

In that window of time, when the other man let his guard down and showed his humanity was when Wolf felt most normal.  

It was painful seeing him stumble along imaginary walls that he erected himself. So much so that the rare (turned not-so-rare) moments when he coaxed his little hedgehog with soothing whispers was rewarding in its own.

Those eyes the color of cherry-blossom (not him, it was one of Napoleon’s girlfriends pointing it out) always looked like they were on the verge of tears. But they beamed even brighter than a supernova the moment he launched into one of his rants about the position of stars and the latest astronomical findings.

He once thought they looked like glass, but really they were a mirror. A mirror he painfully admitted wanted to see himself reflected on. Always.

He knew full well he didn’t deserve any of that.

Wolf was never new to spouting blunt nonsense— to harming people. It was a necessary evil for him to get by amid deadlines and obligations from his father in Vienna. It was his power and weakness. 

Whatever good he had with any of his previous partners, Wolf always knew there would be a point where they’d have to part. That was that. By the time he even uttered farewell, there were none of these leftover feelings that Cerise and Bo-ram talked about.

There was always a goodbye , and despite what people think of him, a sorry .  The latter was often devoid of weight, to be honest.

And yet the heaviest one was the one he couldn’t say out loud.

It’s never them, it’s me. Wolf scratched the pen over and over until it left behind a yarn of angry black lines. It’s not you, it’s me.

For the first time in his solitary excuse of a life, he felt pain over a wound he knew for sure he had inflicted on someone else. 

Sighing, he picked up the pen and began to scribble the lyrics— no, words he meant to say.

Isaac, I…

“I don’t think that part needed any rap. Keep it that way.”

“Eh, are you sure? The girls love it, Cerise loves it and so do I! What — ”

“I’m sure. The song is good enough as it is. Tell that to the girls.”

Some words are best kept to yourself.