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final-fantasy-as-literature · 3 months ago

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Maycomb Blume and "Reading" Loveless in Rebirth

Heya, folks. SPOILERS ahead for Rebirth. Loveless is the only thing that should be spoiled, but I do mention foreshadowing for another event without stating the event.

Content Warning: Death is mentioned, and there is an image of a skull being held by David Tenant. This should be the only time I have to provide a David Tennant warning on this blog /s.

I've let this blog go dormant since I started it and emptied it out, but I wanted to use it. Originally, I started this blog to chronicle my readings of FF7, FF8, and FF9 as adaptations of Xiyouji, but that didn't feel like an easy thing to start with.

I did have the first section of a close reading of Loveless as it appears in English posted here, but I wanted to restart with pointing out how "reading" video games more deeply can be rewarding and is something you probably already have the tools to do if you went to primary school in the past 30 or so years. I will throw the close reading back on here when I've edited it, but I want to be doing something with this blog that isn't quite so deeply analytical to start. I also like adding images to break up text, and this is one of the few places I can do that with alt text for accessibility. Tumblr doesn't like outside links, though, so win some, lose some.

I wanna focus on Loveless from Rebirth with one critical lens among many that you can use to find your own meaning from it. You can even use weaker lenses, like the monomyth and its mother goddess guiding a hero or a Wagnerian reading, if you want. Loveless is a story about heroes on the stage set to music, even if it doesn't neatly line up with either lens. One could display how it resists interpretation by those lenses, for example. In any case,

You Probably Already Know About Literature

Loveless is a play. Even being in a game, it is a play that bears features common to European and American plays and operas from the 16th Century to the modern day. While some parts may be foreign to what you were taught in school, like the operatic portion at the beginning and the lead-solo at the end, the three-to-five act structure with exposition, rising action, climax, and falling action is something quite common to primary education in a lot of countries.

If you were taught this in primary school, you were probably also taught it through a few key authors, artists, directors, and playwrights. If you're from the US, those names likely included some people like James Baldwin, Harper Lee, Kurt Vonnegut, and maybe a few authors from South America like Julio Cortázar or Laura Esquivel. Without doubt, though, I bet you had to read Shakespeare.

That isn't without good reason. Regardless of what you think about him or his works, Shakespeare's words have been enjoyed and remade countless times around the world in many languages. His dominance of theater of a European style is to the point that some of his lines in isolation, ripped of their context, are enough to call to mind the drama on stage to much of the world.

If I say "To be or not to be..." most native English speakers are already finishing the line or jumping ahead to picture a skull in hand, dramatically lamenting a fellow of infinite jest who now has none who would mock his grin. I've seen the same happen with "Ser o no ser..." and "Sein oder Nichtsein..." in non-literary conversations.

David Tennant not mocking Yorick's grin as Hamlet. Image retrieved from Yorick on Wikipedia, originally from BBC article Bequeathed skull stars in Hamlet.

But, that aside, a piece of Loveless begins before the play, somewhat like the earlier events of Hamlet reflecting in his own play within a play.

You Probably Already Know How to Find Out More About Literature.

If you went to school in the age of the internet, you probably had to do research online to back up your writing in an essay on some piece of media you might not have cared about. Maybe you just found a website, reputable or not, that made an argument you could pull a quote from and stick in your writing. Hopefully, though, there was at least a time or two where you genuinely connected with a piece of assigned media and wanted to see what you could find from scholars about the plot, symbols, style, etc. to inform and elaborate on your own thoughts. I want to do that second one with Aerith's pseudonym for the solo at the end of Loveless, Maycomb Blume.

If you put "Maycomb Blume" into a search engine, I'm using Google through a VPN on a clean device, you're probably going to see a wall of FF7-related pages discussing the name. Unfortunately, those aren't the best sources for doing more than stimulating reflection on your own ideas. Most of them seem to come to a homophonic conclusion that it sounds like "make em bloom" that first appeared on a fan Twitter account. However, you might see an article or two about a book by Harper Lee set in the fictional town of Maycomb, Alabama - To Kill a Mockingbird.

If you look into them, you'll see that they tend to be reflecting on the resistance, or lack thereof, to oppression present in the novel by its protagonists. At first, that may seem tenuous, but let's follow the string and look into the Maycomb part of Maycomb Blume. A large piece of Final Fantasy VII is resistance or lack of resistance to oppression bringing characters together or pushing them apart, after all.

If you look up 'Maycomb' by itself, you will quickly find that it almost exclusively refers to the fictional town of Maycomb invented by Harper Lee. Google Ngram Viewer confirms this, showing virtually zero mentions of 'Maycomb' until the release of To Kill a Mockingbird. As a deliberate choice of translation, they sure did pick a unique word, no? But what about the "Blume" part? That isn't exactly an uncommon word, and it has myriad variations.

The results of a Google Ngram Viewer search for Maycomb, showing the sudden increase in the appearance of the word Maycomb in text after Lee's publication. Image screenshot from Google Ngram Viewer on October 19, 2024.

If you keep digging and do more looking, you might find that one of the most famous, influential, and controversial literary critics, Shakespeare scholars, and Harry Potter-haters in the world, Harold Bloom, was the editor for an anthology of critical essays on To Kill a Mockingbird. If you know anything about him, you might be aware of his idea that all works of literature are essentially "remakes" that carry influence from the ideas and stories they are latecomers to. This idea is what he called the anxiety of influence.

Harold Bloom, the man who hated Harry Potter before it was cool. Image retrieved from Wikipedia, by Bernard Gotfryd and originally obtained from the page Bernard Gotfryd on the Library of Congress website.

So what did Bloom have to say about Lee's most famous work in this text? Not much, as he was the editor of the volume, but he did say that the protagonists weren't what one would call heroes, but reflections of a sensibility that saw itself without the need to change in the face of racism:

The crises of [Scout’s] book confirm her in her intrinsic strength and goodness, without wounding her sensibility or modifying her view of reality.

So, where our initial look might lead us to a simple homophonic "it sounds like 'make em bloom,'" our deeper look leaves us with a lens from a scholar most focused on works of poetry on the stage, the anxiety of influence, and a theme with which to use that lens with, growth of a protagonist in the face of oppression. These tools seem appropriate for a work that is explicitly part of a "remake" of an earlier work that deals heavily with oppression, how people do or do not resist it, and what that leads them to do - so how well do they apply to Loveless?

You Probably Know How to Apply This to Loveless

Again, if you went to primary school in an English-speaking country in the past 30 years, you were probably taught the basics of how to apply critical lenses to any media you consume. If you had to read A Modest Proposal and discuss how well Jonathan Swift satirizes the plight of the poor in Ireland and upper-class reactions to it, you were being exposed to rudimentary Class or Marxist Criticism. In the US, you might have also been exposed to it while reading The Great Gatsby or The Grapes of Wrath. If you had to analyze the symbols in an Edgar Allan Poe work and explain the ideas, sensations, emotions, and images they called up for you and how well they served the work as they were written, you were being exposed to rudimentary New Criticism. In the US, you might have also been exposed to it while reading Song of Myself or listening to I Have a Dream.

Edward Manet's interpretation of the visit of the raven, both chaotic and clear. Image retrieved from The Raven on Wikipedia, originally on the Library of Congress website linked by a dead link.

The anxiety of influence, or Bloomian criticism, is just like those lenses in that it is a tool for you to apply as an individual reader. Primary schools don't often use even rudimentary Bloomian criticism, though, because it requires a knowledge of a canon, or a body of important works at its simplest, but introducing you to a canon is part of what studying literature in primary school does. Once you have at least a familiarity with a canon, you can start to identify how works influenced by that canon build upon it to deliver their own stories in a way that might or might not change how you read those original works.

Remember how I brought up the "to be or not to be..." soliloquy near the start of this? Are you minimally familiar with Hamlet, Romeo and Juliet, and King Lear?

If yes, you can apply rudimentary Bloomian criticism to Loveless.

Actually Doing It

The operatic bit of Loveless and the title itself mirror the central tragedy of King Lear: three would-be heroes vie to prove their love for King Lear and all but one are proven loveless. Even more in-line, they are a blonde would-be hero who is imprisoned (Cordelia), a would-be hero with black hair who is slain (Regan), and a would-be hero with red hair whose life is cut short (Goneril).

The Three daughters of King Lear by Gustav Pope. From left to right are Regan, Goneril, and Cordelia. Image retrieved from King Lear on Wikipedia.

The three would-be heroes of Loveless raising their swords. Of the three, only Alphreid on the left is given explicit name, but parallels between the three and other characters within and without the Compilation may be drawn.

While there is a "mother goddess" in the mix, understanding it here without a background understanding of possible precursors (like Campbell's mother goddess or the Guanyin of Chinese/Japanese Buddhism from which he derived it, in part) would only serve to make this longer in explanation. As it goes, she is one of the primary features of the play which connect Loveless to Final Fantasy VII as a whole, but understanding the reason for her inclusion is impossible without looking at FF7 as a whole. As it stands, Loveless can be understood as a work in its own right in a similar way to how Hamlet's play can be understood as a character in the play rehearsing his own mode. That is; Loveless is informative even without understanding Remake and Rebirth in whole.

Already, though, we see that we've reached the point of tragedy of King Lear: it is not long after the imprisonment of Cordelia that she is hanged and her father dies of grief and madness. The Fool, though, appears to deliver the reveal of Bloomian clinamen, the swerving away an author (or authors) makes from the precursors when they create their own misprison (work of art/poetry/literature/etc).

Where King Lear ends shortly after Cordelia's imprisonment, Loveless only truly begins there, and the Fool, a character used to communicate the true nature of things, appears. It is fitting, then, that the character who communicates the true nature of things appears again here as the only character without change or loss in title, being the Fool in both King Lear and Loveless. He introduces us to Alphreid, who himself calls back to the madness of loveless Shakespearean tragedies with his "To proceed... or not to proceed!" line after the tutorial.

Cloud as Alphreid putting on his theater shoes and reminding the reader of the question.

Where Hamlet and Cordelia are condemned to tragedy because of their rejection of love or the rejection of their love, though, Alphreid is freed and empowered by his newfound acceptance of the Goddess' love through the hand of Rosa. This reveals the tessera of the work, the fragment that can be used with other fragments of the work to show where the author (or authors) suggest that the precursors did not go far enough. Hamlet and King Lear, then, are filled with nothing but villains and victims who refuse to embrace the power of love of all things. This makes sense, as those were tragedies.

This blends with the daemonization the work employs, a Counter-Sublime in reaction to the Sublime of the precursors. This is the evidencing of the tessera from before in the way even nature, thundering with Alphreid's rally, reveals in Loveless the counter to the Shakespearean idea that lovelessness flattens all. Where Cordelia and Ophelia die to lack of true love from even one person, Alphreid becomes empowered by love for all things. This reflects even in the reader's/player's ability to progress no matter who they declare their love for among Varvados, Garm, and Rosa, as love conquers all and lack of love flattens. Garm and Varvados, who refuse love, can be expected to fail as long as the player continues.

In hand with the application of the daemonization employed is the kenosis, the breaking device used by an author (or authors) to empty their own work and that of the precursors of their nature as literature. Here, the authors remind the reader that they are playing a game by forcing them to interact to continue Alphreid's story, breaking the illusion of the game's reality while highlighting that Hamlet and King Lear can be put on the shelf as well if you don't wish to continue. Yet, the reader does.

And, when they do, they find revealed in it the reality of the second-to-last revisionary ratio of the anxiety of influence, askesis, the movement stressing the individuality of the author (or authors). They find it most clearly in the Fool of Loveless, pleading with the audience in soliloquy where he calls upon central, humanizing lines of Shakespeare's Julius Caesar, Romeo and Juliet, and Troilus and Cresside to humanize the creators of his misprison and the misprisons embodied in its precursors,

Cait Sith as the Fool doing his best to evoke pathos for the reader through allusion to the end of things.

Friends, lend me your ears. (Shakespeare, Julius Caesar) Our inspiring hero's and indomitable princess's tale draws to a close. Only one act remains. Parting is indeed such sweet sorrow. (Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet) But as they say, all good things must come to an end. (Chaucer/Shakespeare, Trolius and Criseyde/Troilus and Cressida) Though it is our wish that this tale remain with you long after we are gone.

Emphasis and parenthetical additions mine.

Almost in those words, the Fool draws the reader of both King Lear and Loveless to consider the work as its own unique and novel expression; though, the Fool of King Lear simply tasks the reader with recognizing the application of Lear's lessons. The Fool of Loveless, however, calls on the reader to keep the work as a novel piece with them even as they finish the work.

Even more, it seems to remind the reader that an end in death is soon to come, for Mark Antony was lamenting the death of Caesar in his "Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears..." speech, Juliet was foreshadowing in a good night that her cherishing might kill Romeo when she described parting as sorrow and grief, and Chaucer was describing the parting of Criseyde despite the pleas of Troilus when he said, "every thing hath ende" (which Shakespeare later modified). For all of these works, the Fool seems to be showing the ways in which this story will show an end isn't quite so simple - that a death isn't so simple as ending everything for those who survive.

The last of the revisionary ratios of the anxiety of influence, the opening of the work near the end of the author's (or authors') life that reveals the precursors' influence which is apohprades, is evident across the work in the blatant allusions we just discussed and in the name of the trilogy of works that contains it: Remake.

Cloud putting on his standoffish act as Alfred. The translation has served to better the depth, as even Alphreid is the portmanteau of Siegfried and Alberich from The Ring Cycle, highlighting Cloud's dualism.

As the creators of the 1997 release age and face death's tyranny, the anxiety of influence begets renewed misprison that causes the authors to reveal the precursors to their work with their reactions to them. Isolated to just Loveless, a reader can see a return of Shakespeare into a work that originally copied the format he used without clearly showing his presence to reveal a new reading of his most prominent tragedies. This reading, even, mirrors that of Bloom's reading of To Kill a Mockingbird: the tragedies of Shakespeare were preventable or survivable for more of the characters with the same force that could have prevented the crisis of To Kill a Mockingbird.

Why Does This Matter?

Because the curtains don't have to be blue if they mean something to you or the person that made them, and finding meaning in even just a small part of a work can reveal meaning to you in the whole and in other things you enjoy. If we can see Loveless as a take on growth through love of all things and people in the face of oppression influenced by a myriad precursors through baby's first Bloomian lens, we can do that with the Remake trilogy as a whole, even before it is completed. That, even, is just one critical lens that can be used. Jacob Geller has a critique of Midgar as presented in Remake through the lens of architecture and an Akira Kurosawa film that leans towards Class/Marxist Criticism, for example.

I know this was long, but I am rather determined to help people understand that the literacy skills and canons their teachers tried to impart on them are useful outside of reading those same canonical works. Final Fantasy VII suffers from surface-level readings (as opposed to something like Silent Hill or Outer Wilds), but we don't have to read any work like that, especially if we can evidence more deep readings with the text.

So, thanks if you read this far; though, you probably didn't need me to tell you about this stuff if you did.

If you're interested in the Xiyouji thing, it isn't my bigger project, but I'm gonna be semi-regularly posting readings of characters, locations, fiends, concepts, and events as seen in Remake and Rebirth through the lens of adapting Xiyouji. I'll probably be posting Barret Wallace as Sandy first, but it is a tossup between Red XIII as Red Boy, the Trio as the Three from Gensomaden Saiyuki, or The Crow's Nest's Colin as the Crow's Nest Zen Master after that. I wanted to start with this to demonstrate the idea in a smaller part and remind people why they were taught media literacy in school, though. The The Norse Myths That Inspired Final Fantasy VII guy, M.J. Gallagher, seems to be trying to do that in a way, too, but he went a different direction from Dragon Quest and the king of Xiyouji adaptations that come from Japan who helped make it - Akira Toriyama, the creator of Dragon Ball.

The first appearance of Goku by Akira Toriyama also beginning his journey as an adapted Monkey on a cloud towards becoming the Buddha Victorious in Strife. Image retrieved from Goku on Wikipedia.

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bleachbleachbleach · 7 months ago

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The original article was about Elizabeth McCracken but this post is about Haikyuu

I have 90 minutes that I could do anything with right now. But all I actually want to do is STARE INTO THE VENTRICLES OF MY VOLLEYBALL-SHAPED HEART so I guess that's what I'll do.

We saw the Haikyuu movie this week, in theaters, which was cool in itself because I'd never seen (or wanted to see) an anime movie in a theater before. I mean, besides Ghibli (Ponyo and Boy and Heron), but that's its own thing. ~Back in my day~ if you wanted to see an anime movie you bought a region-free Chinese bootleg like god intended. The world is out here offering subbed (and dubbed) screenings of anime?? volleyball?? in a movie theater??? In NORTH AMERICA?? Amazing.

I don't know anything about Haikyuu fandom, but I know a few Normal People whose kids enjoy Haikyuu, and I feel like at least in the context of those conversations Haikyuu often gets shorthanded as being about "the power of friendship." I don't think that's it, though. I mean, friendship is powerful, and the friendships in Haikyuu are no exception, but Haikyuu is not about the power of friendship.

Haikyuu is about volleyball.

In one of my absolute favorite pieces I read in 2023, Yiyun Li cautions against defining fiction in terms of its "aboutness"--saying a (or your) work is "about" motherhood, or "about" grief, or about some amorphous concept. About the power of friendship. And she describes (in her case, Elizabeth McCracken's fiction) as being, instead, a triumph of characters you can truly come to know. Characters who breathe and move and are real enough not just to walk off the page but real enough not just to be known but also maybe to know you. She adds, paraphrasing one of McCracken's own characters:

If you take your characters’ feet for granted—if you haven’t washed and bandaged your characters’ toes, if you haven’t placed their feet on yours to lift them upstairs—perhaps they have a right to refuse to come alive. You’re stuck with sentient and bodiless beings: egos, ghosts, cyphers, fragments of an insufficient imagination.

This is what Haikyuu does so well--but in a very particular way (a way probably very unlike Elizabeth McCracken) where we know and see almost nothing about any of these characters that does not have to do with volleyball. There are no storylines that don't ultimately have something to do with volleyball. There's no "sure it's a cop procedural but we learn so much about the cops' complex home lives! what's where the real story is" Whoever these kids are (and some of them may actually genuinely be volleyballs all the way down), their aliveness does not have to do with suggesting all that they are beyond this one thing, what grand additional worlds they might belong to. It's about who they are, and all of who they are, being crystallized, focalized, pressure-cooked into volleyball.

I'm going to commit the very thing Li warned against and say that this Haikyuu movie (and Haikyuu in general) is "about" LOVING this one thing and growing and connecting through that thing and wanting to bring others to that place and share it. But it is "about" this thing in ways where there is no way to these ideas but through--though the feet and the bandages and the hands and the sweat and the sweat and the sweat. It is only about these things because of the way these things live in every cell and tic and expression of these characters and a volleyball. The film--like the series--is also so good at characterizing that one thing as simultaneously fleeting and menial while also, in the truest form of a both/and, being the most important thing in the world.

Haikyuu is about volleyball.

I've spent most of the last eight hours basically on the verge of tears because I am so overcome with love for THEMMMM; I'm pretty sure I watched the whole movie with my hands over my mouth like 😳🫣. I first thing I wanted to do after watching it was immediately buy another ticket and watch it again. I LOVED IT.

#🏐🏴 飛べ!!🏴 🏐#〽️🏐〽️ V I B R A T E 〽️🏐〽️ H I G H E R 〽️🏐〽️#no brain not bleach #this is a haikyuu blog now #h3: haikyuuhaikyuuhaikyuu

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reasoningdaily · 2 years ago

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Editor’s note: The following article is an op-ed, and the views expressed are the author’s own. Read more opinions on theGrio.

Crack had a massive impact on the Black community in the 1980s. It would be impossible to do a podcast like “Being Black: The ’80s” and not talk extensively about crack. People smoked it and experienced the most intense high they had ever had, and the chase to feel like that again ruined millions of lives.

De La Soul is not one of the hip-hop groups that talked a lot about street life. They were proudly suburban at a time when that made them stand out among hip-hop artists. Quick story: I was a suburban kid who loved hip-hop from the first time I heard “Rapper’s Delight,” and I felt deeply connected to hip-hop as I watched the culture grow in the years after that song dropped. Hip-hop was the music I loved most as a kid. It was part of my identity, but then De La came out and I realized that as far as rappers, no one represented me or symbolized me better than De La. If I could rap, they were what I would be. Their suburbanness, their intelligence and their sense of humor all spoke to who I was. They became my favorite group of all time. But I digress. Even though De La was all about everything that rappers weren’t normally about, like so many Black people back in the ’80s, they did have a crack problem in their family.

Crack was so pervasive in the ’80s that living in suburbia was not enough to insulate you from the crack epidemic. De La’s Posdnous had a brother who was battling a crack addiction, and out of that experience he recorded the best song ever made about being in a family with a crack addict: “My Brother’s A Basehead.” That song is at the center of episode two of “Being Black: The ’80s,” and it leads us into a conversation about the overall impact of crack.

“My Brother’s A Basehead” is one of those songs that spring from the artist’s real life. Posdnous is telling the story of what happened to him and his family because of his brother’s addiction. It wasn’t quite a cry for help because Posdnous himself wasn’t in trouble, but it was perhaps a way of Pos speaking to his brother about hurting the family. Producer Prince Paul, who’s sometimes referred to as a member of De La, comes through in this episode to talk about the making of the song and what really happened to Pos’ brother.

Meanwhile, another major hip-hop group was dealing with having a crack addict in the family in a whole different way. Public Enemy was, in many ways, the exact opposite of De La. Where De La was about having fun and being smart, Public Enemy was overtly political and they were as serious as a heart attack. They positioned themselves as the sons of Malcolm X and the Black Panthers so you knew they were going to decry the crack epidemic as often and as loudly as possible.

Quick aside — one of the hallmarks of “Being Black: The ’80s” is that I generally bring up a second song as a way to help further explain the episode’s central song. In this episode, that second song is Public Enemy’s “Night of the Living Baseheads,” which is Chuck D’s way of sermonizing about the evils of crack and shaming those who used crack. P.E.’s producer Hank Shocklee comes through to explain the origins of the song, which goes back to a movie he saw in his childhood — “Night of the Living Dead.”

But it was very interesting to hear Public Enemy shame crackheads while there was a crack addict in their musical family. Flavor-Flav battled addiction for years, including while he was in the group. I asked Shocklee if they knew that Flav was doing crack. He said, “Yes and no.”

You’ve gotta hear the whole story of how De La and Public Enemy dealt with crack in their families in very different ways. That, and the impact of crack, is at the heart of episode two of Being Black: the 80s. Available now wherever you get your podcasts.

#‘Being Black: The ’80s’: De La Soul’s song captures the devastating effects of the crack epidemic #DeLaSoul #De La Soul

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contemplatingoutlander · 8 days ago

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The original Washington Post article is well worth reading. It focuses on struggling white, working class residents of New Castle, PA. What is most astonishing (and sad) about the quotes from some of these people in the original article, is how deeply Trump and right-wing media conned them.

“He is more attuned to the needs of everyone instead of just the rich,” [Lori] Mosura, 55, said on a recent afternoon. “I think he knows it’s the poor people that got him elected, so I think Trump is going to do more to help us.”

“We helped get you in office; please take care of us,” Mosura said, shifting the conversation as though she were speaking to Trump. “Please don’t cut the things that help the most vulnerable.”

“It’s not cutting government programs, it’s cutting the amount of people needed to run a program,” [Steve Tillia] said. “They are cutting staff, which could actually increase the amount of the programs that we get.”

“You can’t wipe out half of the population” of New Castle, [Kathy] Davis said. “We are old and tired and just want to be taken care of, and Trump has too much common sense, so I don’t think he is going to do anything to hurt us.” [emphasis added]

A Portrait of the People Quoted Above

*Lori Mosura (age 55) "goes to the grocery store on a bicycle because she can’t afford to fix her Ford F-150 truck. The single mother and her 17-year-old son live in an apartment that is so small she sleeps in the dining room. They receive $1,200 each month in food stamps and Social Security benefits but still come up short. Mosura said she often must decide whether to buy milk or toilet paper." **Steve Tillia (age 59) "receives $1,600 a month in Social Security disability payments and $300 in food stamps to support himself and his son. Tillia, who said he is unable to work after suffering from mini strokes, still drives around New Castle with a Trump flag anchored on the bumper of his SUV."

***Kathy Davis is "a retired artist, subsists on a monthly $1,300 Social Security payment and $75 in food stamps. She rents her studio apartment for $385 per month. Asked whether she worries that Trump’s agenda could hurt the poor, Davis said the incoming president is 'too smart for that.'” [emphasis added]

The original WaPo article by Tim Craig is worth reading. Below is a link to a copy on the Internet Archive.

New Castle, Pennsylvania, on Dec. 19. (Jeff Swensen for The Washington Post)

____________________ Note that three different photos were cropped from the article for the portraits; the inset in Tillia's photo was added to provide part of the cropped out larger photo. Formatting was changed for descriptions under the photos and asterisks were added.

From low-income voters who supported Donald Trump last month, a plea to the president-elect: don’t cut our benefits.

Trump has frequently made grand promises to protect Social Security, Medicare and other benefits. But with a growing list of billionaires on his cabinet, a vow to quell spending and a slim Republican coalition in Congress consisting of some anti-spending hawks, his voters aren’t so sure.

Pennsylvania Trump voter Lori Mosura described the billionaire as “more attuned to the needs of everyone instead of just the rich” in an interview with the Washington Post. She lives below the poverty line, receiving $1,200 a month in food stamps and Social Security benefits.

#trump #working class #low income voters fear trump will cut benefits #social safety net #gullible voters #the washington post #tim craig #yahoo news #internet archive

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themovieblogonline · 1 year ago

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Director Provides Update On Prey Sequel And Potential For Arnold Schwarzenegger

There is still potential for a Prey Sequel. The 1987 film Predator, starring Arnold Schwarzenegger and directed by John McTiernan, has been the inspiration for the entire Predator series. There have been made numerous attempts to recreate the first movies’ magic. Even though most agree that Predator 2 doesn't surpass the heights of the first movie, opinions among fans are split on the topic. As time passed, audiences were given several new movies in the franchise. Things started with Alien vs. Predator making its debut the creators decided to explore various facets of Predators lore in Predators and The Predator. You can only do so much with the concept, which is a challenge. Enter Dan Trachtenberg's Prey, which went back to the series' roots by pitting the creature against a Native American woman in a historical drama. Because Prey was set a long time before the events of the first Predator, it was able to deliver an exciting and action-packed experience. The movie didn’t have the burden of having to rely too heavily on the connections between the different storylines. Director Dan Trachtenberg recently discussed whether a future movie could bring back Arnold Schwarzenegger. The short answer is that it is a possibility the filmmaker isn't ruling out the idea at this point. In an interview with Variety, Trachtenberg hinted that Schwarzenegger and Glover might reprise their respective Predator franchise roles in the sequel to the prequel film Prey. "I don't know how to do things, but I'm learning how to do things," he admitted. A sequel hasn't been officially announced. Naturally, this would require a sequel to move the action quite a few years into the future distancing itself from Prey. "I did find out there was an attempt to cast Arnold in Predators, the third Predator movie from 2010. All I'll say is that those guys still have time to make a cameo appearance in a new Predator film. Wouldn't it be amazing to know that they are still alive?” Schwarzenegger played Major Alan "Dutch" Schaefer, the lead character in the first Predator movie. Glover played New York Lieutenant Mike Harrigan, the lead character in Predator 2. Both actors haven't appeared again in the franchise since those first films. Prey is the most recent book to be added to that canon However, Trachtenberg has recently made comments that suggest this almost wasn't the case. The director claims that the Prey production team approached him with the suggestion to rework the project as its own original IP in response to worries that Disney's acquisition of 20th Century Fox might cause problems with respect to the Predator rights. A sequel hasn't been officially announced. Prey was ultimately relegated to streaming on Hulu, despite the fact that it was initially anticipated to arrive in theatres The movie was a success with audiences and critics alike despite its conforming to a Hulu debut. The film's success is arguably bringing the franchise back to the heights it achieved with the first film. Trachtenberg acknowledged that despite the franchise's success, there haven't been any serious discussions about the next installment. The Director gives an update on the Sequel "I can't really say anything about that right now, but I'll say while we were finishing the movie, we were having really exciting conversations," Trachtenberg shared with The Playlist recently. "The studio, myself, the writer, and the producers about what crazy things could we do next. And I've never stopped, no one stopped thinking about how cool things could be going forward." When questioned about whether a new film would also be available on streaming services, Trachtenberg teased, "No comment. I responded to the query. partially responded to the question. I need you to give me that. Prey is currently streaming Hulu. Read the full article

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delfiore · 2 years ago

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impressions from another time

pairing: florence pugh x reader

synopsis: you and florence start filming a movie together whilst going through a rough patch in your relationship.

a/n: i was sleep-deprived writing most of this.

warnings: y/n being frustratingly bad at communicating.

word count: 4.0k

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You walked through door, and shut it behind you. Your eyes were glued to your phone, reading an article about some politician coming under fire for saying the wrong thing. The living room was alight when you came in, which you were surprised about. The TV was on too. Florence didn’t make the effort to look at you when you walked past to get to the kitchen.

“How was dinner?”

“It was fine.” You answered, opening the fridge and looking through it halfheartedly.

You hated that you didn’t know what else to say next. You used to be able to have conversations for hours; two glasses of wine on a winter night, you and Florence talked until morning, and that was way before you started actually going out.

You heard the soft tapping of her fingernails on glass, as if she wanted to say something too, but couldn’t.

“You shouldn’t be drinking so late.” You commented, plopping a grape in your mouth and cupping some more in your left hand before shutting the fridge. “You know your stomach always gets weird after alcohol at night. We have an early flight tomorrow.”

You headed for the bedroom, but she spoke first. “You know you can still pull out.”

Letting out an exhausted breath, you stopped in the middle of the stairs. You didn’t have the energy to fight with her today. “Don’t stay up too late,” you only said, and left her there in the living room.

You had signed the contract months prior agreeing to appear in the movie. The original actor intended for Florence’s role couldn’t make it due to scheduling conflicts, so they made her get on board. At first you were ecstatic, getting to work with your longtime girlfriend, but you didn’t know when the relationship soured. All you knew was there had been way too many fights, and something has wedged itself between your bodies and your spirits.

You helped Florence bring her essentials into her trailer, all the while signing off any paperwork before the first day with a production assistant.

“I’ll have some of my stuff dropped back off in the apartment tomorrow. I’m probably not gonna need most of it anyway.” She said, after having loaded the bathroom with her things.

“Oh, it’s okay. I’ll just put my stuff in my trailer.” You said.

Protocol said that you would each get your own trailer, as the other actors did, but people didn’t actually expect you both to use your own. Most people on the crew knew of your relationship, hence why yours was right next to hers.

“Right,” Flo nodded pointedly.

You recognized her attitude, but you really didn’t want to fight, so you ignored it and left her trailer.

That evening you headed out, and took time to walk around town. Dubrovnik by night quickly became one of your favorite places to be. In another life, if you worked as art connoisseur you’d definitely live here, you think. You told Florence you wouldn’t coming back for dinner, and you didn’t miss the disappointment on her face. It was something you learned to deal with, or else you wouldn’t have survived this long.

Settling into an outdoor table at a restaurant in the town square, you asked for the kitchen’s most popular dish once you’ve caught a waiter walking by. Halfway through the meal, you pulled your phone out to see if you’ve had any messages. There were only a couple of work emails and texts from your friends back home checking in. None from Flo, though.

“Sorry?” You looked up and saw a couple of young women smiling eagerly down at you. “Are you Y/N Y/L/N?”

“Yeah.” You mustered your best smile.

“We’re really big fans of yours. Can we take a picture with you?”

You had hoped to not be disturbed this evening, but to preserve your public image you stood up and smiled as one of the girls pointed her phone camera at all of you.

“And um . . .” she started fishing in her bag, “is it okay if you give this to Florence?”

“Yeah, no problem. Have a good night, ladies.” With giggles behind their hands, they scuttled away.

It was a greeting-card sized booklet with Florence’s character from Black Widow hand-drawn on one side, and a letter addressed to her on the other. You studied the drawing for a bit, then put it away and finished your meal.

When you got back to your shared apartment, the lights were all off. Flo was laying in bed when you peaked in. You quietly placed the card on her nightstand and went to the bathroom to shower. Slipping into bed quietly so as not to wake Flo, you watched her for a moment, her back facing you, her shoulder rising and falling with every breathe of sleep she took.

Suddenly her smell overtook your senses, and you instantly felt at ease. Somehow you thought that as long as she was with you, it was going to be okay. You were Florence and Y/N, you would work it out one way or another.

Gently wrapping your arm around her, you placed a small kiss on her cheek and retracted to your side of the bed.

Staring at the card you had placed in front of her, Florence was squeezing her eyes shut to stop the tears, as she listened to your breathing even out.

Until then, Florence was ready to ignore that there was something wrong with your relationship. All great couples go through stuff, and they are great because they fix it together. She’s seen it in her own parents and they were the sole reason she believed in true love. She thought she had found it with you.

Until she saw you mingling with one of your new castmates. She felt jealousy building in the pit of her stomach, watching you laugh and converse the way that she wished you would with her.

Florence had met Hoyeon before during rehearsals. Her smiley and amiable nature made her sure that they would get along well, and maybe even form a friendship outside of work. So Flo couldn’t just start hating Hoyeon now that she’s unknowingly put herself between her and you.

She pulled out her phone, staring at the message she wrote but didn’t send to you.

Good luck today!! 💕

Florence deleted the text and headed into the hair-and-makeup trailer.

It became worse the longer the shoot went on. She felt like with every passing day it was getting harder to talk to you, as every time she did you would only answer with a word or two.

She never let this deter her from work, though. She felt like letting it show would be letting you get the last laugh, and until she figured out when the hell it all went wrong, it was not going to happen.

“‘S so nice to have another Brit on-set. In a sea of coffee drinkers, I don’t feel so alone drinking my tea.”

“It’s amazing how a cup of tea can make you feel so patriotic.” She laughed, watching her colleague settle down in the chair next to her.

Sam laughed and sipped from his mug. From where she sat, she could see the tea wetting his mustache and deflating slightly when he pulled it away.

“It’s crazy that it’s taken me this long to do a film with you.” He told her. “It felt like forever ago when we came in to read for Lady Macbeth. I was so hoping that you got the part, and then you did.”

“I’m pretty sure Will Oldroyd tore his hair out trying to decide for the Sebastian part. There were definitely several mental breakdowns.” She turned towards him in her chair, holding your gaze for a split second as you followed the director out from set.

“I adored that project. I was gutted, but it turned out great so no complaints from me there.”

Sam Claflin was a charming man. There were times when Flo had thought back to him after the Lady Macbeth chemistry read. He was married then, but she found herself slightly disappointed when he wasn’t chosen opposite her for the film in the end. The actor circle was small enough, even more so among British actors. She knew Aaron T-J. who knew Richard M. who knew Lily J. who knew Sam.

“But here we are again,” she said.

“So we are,” he flashed a smile at her. “Hey, some of us are gonna go to the pub down the street this weekend. You should come, bring Y/N too while you’re at it.”

“Yeah,” Flo nodded, her smile less now. “I think that’d be good for us.”

You were home by the time that she was. You were on the couch watching a movie, and gave her a small nod with your head turned to her.

“You’re not in bed.” To her surprise.

“Just wanted to wait for you.”

Flo didn’t say a word after that, then set her things aside to go wash up.

She showered, brushed her teeth, them began her nightly skincare routine. In the reflection, she spotted you sauntering into the bathroom, coming up behind her. Wordlessly, you proceeded to place small kisses on her shoulder where her skin wasn’t covered by her tank top.

Letting out a low sigh, she let you continue to trail kisses along her neck, up her jaw, whilst your hands coaxed her waist eagerly. You swiftly turned her around, finding her lips.

Short gasps and throaty moans filled the room as you continued making out, the physical contact dearly missed by Florence. She wanted to pretend like everything was okay, and it would be so much easier to let you carry her to the bed and fuck her like she’s been wanting for a while, but she couldn’t.

“What’s the occasion?” She asked.

“Hmm?”

“You haven’t touched me in ages.” Flo said breathlessly, feeling your kisses on her neck stop. “What’s all this for?”

You sighed, and let her go. Only then did she notice her heavy breaths, and her heart hammering in her chest.

“Do you not want to do this?” You asked. “We don’t have to.”

“I’m just tired today, that’s all.” Florence lied, partially. She just didn’t have the energy to do this today.

“Okay,” you said quietly, and put some toothpaste on your brush.

“Sam invited us to go down to the pub on Saturday. You wanna go?”

She didn’t miss the slight flare of your nose at the mention of Sam. “Yeah, sure.”

Flo went to bed, feeling a headache already brewing.

On the day, you came up with some half-assed excuse to not go. You couldn’t stand seeing Sam Claflin blatantly flirting with your girlfriend, just the thought of it made your stomach churn.

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There was a difficult scene coming up, one that would certainly attract attention from critics and make Florence shine during award season.

“Morning, Pam.” You entered the makeup trailer.

“Look who showed up, huh?” You giggled, and kissed the old woman on the cheek.

“Traffic.” You smirked, sipping on your coffee.

“Oh, please. Like I haven’t heard that excuse a million times before. It’s you putting that caffeinated stuff in your body every single time I see you. Sit down.” She teased, gesturing you towards the chair.

“You sound like my mother, Pam.” You said, making her roll her eyes. “Hey, where’s Flo?”

“Flo? She had to go to rehearsals early, for that big scene, remember? She didn’t tell you?”

When you woke up this morning, the other side of the bed was empty. You knew that about the scene, of course, just not that she’d be leaving early. There might have been a last-minute notice that you didn’t know about, Flo didn’t tell you.

“I guess not.”

When you were finished with makeup, you were told you had a few hours until your scene would be shot. You’d have some time to rest, but you soon left the makeup trailer and headed to where you knew Flo’s scene would be shot.

You stood on the side watching Flo hit her mark, as the director got behind the camera. There was a hint of nervousness on her face as she breathed in and out that you normally didn’t see. But you didn’t fret because this was Flo—Florence Pugh—and acting was like second nature to her.

A few steps away, there he was—Sam—standing on his own cue, getting ready for the scene.

“And . . . action!”

“You know everyone told me this would past, that I’d move past this—“

“Hey, let’s do that with some more emotions, yeah? Feel the grief, Florence.”

“O-Okay.” She was surprised at his remark, yet she was quick to shake it off with a few sobering blinks. Her eyes caught yours for a split second as she scanned the set.

You could see Sam’s mouth moving, “you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m good.”

“Action!”

“You know everyone told me this would past, that I’d move past this.” She looked more grim than the last take, eyes far in the distance.

No matter how long you’ve known Flo, how many times you watch her work, you’d never get tired of seeing her act. It was as if acting was her life force, and she always gave her all and more into every take. You were sure someone like her would go down as one of the industry’s best one day, and here you were getting to witness it first-hand, and to see the person she was behind the camera too.

“Cut!” The director, Julian pulled off his headset in frustration. “I need more, Florence! More! Come on, I know you can do it!”

“I-I’m sorry, I’ve just been—“ You watched her through the monitor. “Let me do it again.”

Her chest was rising and falling heavily, so much so that you were afraid she might run out of breath. She started her monologue.

“You know everyone told me this would past, that I’d move past this. But how can I? How can I when he’s still out there? My precious baby boy. The police can think he ran away all he wants, but I know Liam. I know he would never, ever run away like that. Something happened to him, I know it! Something awful’s happened to my baby, and I can’t fucking do anything about it! How am I supposed to move past this when my only son is missing?!”

“Cut!” Julian yelled. “Brilliant! Brilliant, Florence!”

Despite your current situation with her, you could only smile watching her sweep the entire crew off their feet with her performance. The emotions hung so heavily on each word that made you almost believe she had lived through the torment of losing a child.

The take had been called, yet the tears never stopped, and her sobs never ceased. She was kneeling on the floor, holding her chest as her cries choked back painfully. She was crying and crying without cessation. She couldn’t stop.

“What happened?” You heard the director murmured to his assistant, and she only shrugged, puzzled.

The set was dead-silent, yet no one came by Flo’s aid, as she curled in on herself, still sobbing. Sam was dumbfounded too, and hovered over her like a powerless spring toy.

For a split second, Julian caught your eyes, just before you had taken off running to where she was. You quickly knelt on the floor, and brought her to your chest.

Her face buried itself in your neck, as her arms came to wrap around your torso. You had asked the director for a break to which he hesitated, but ultimately agreed, because he knew too—Florence was in no shape to work for the rest of the day.

“I’m here, love.” You brought her to her feet. ”Come on, let’s get out of here.”

By the time you got to her trailer, only quiet sniffle remained as a result of her uncontrollable breakdown minutes before. You guided her towards the couch at the back of the trailer, and kneeled in front of her.

“Take deep breaths for me, okay?” You said, standing up to fetch the half-drunk water bottle on the table.

You opened the bottle and handed it to her, when she swatted your hand away with a frustrated click of the tongue.

“What are you doing?” She shook her head, eyeing you. “It’s been weeks since we last had a real conversation, and now you pretend like you care.”

“No, don’t start.” You stood up, wanting nothing more than to be done with this conversation.

“When, then?” She held you back by your arm. “When we’ve already broken up, you move out, and spend your time bed-hopping or whatever it is that you’ve been doing away from me?”

“That’s not fair,” you shook your head, your eyebrows furrowed, “no, you can’t talk.”

“This was a mistake. I knew I shouldn’t have done this movie with you. I knew it would cause tension or amplify whatever the fuck has been going on between us.” Her voice cracked. “So what the fuck is going on between us, Y/N, because I cannot stand another day of this.”

You had been gritting your teeth this entire time, wanting nothing to do with this anymore, because the truth was you’ve been avoiding the elephant in the room ever since you first felt it. This rift between you two, like you were both standing on pieces of ice, drifting further away from each other. And like standing on ice in the Arctic, it was cold, disorienting, and isolating.

“I don’t know.” You said simply.

Flo scoffed quietly.

“Y/N, do you still want to be with me?”

You bit the inside of your cheeks hard. The truth was you didn’t quite know.

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You let yourself have one finally meal in Croatia before you had to leave. It was a Wednesday afternoon, even for this time of year it was most quiet downtown. A short walk down the square you would reach the restaurant that you dined at the first time you explored the city. Flo had flown back to LA days before, as soon as filming wrapped. You thought it must have been her trying to get away from you as quickly as possible. The conversation was left on-hold after that day, and neither of you spoke about it, or to each other for that matter other than for work.

Just before you sat down, you spotted the director with a meal of his own, sunglasses on and a cigarette in hand.

“Y/N! Come, join me!” He called before you could turn the other way.

“Hey, Julian.” You smiled. He offered you to take from his pack, but you refused.

“Have you seen much of the city while we’ve been here?“ You felt like a little kid having to sit by its guardian so as not to cause a disturbance.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “I ate here the first day I came, actually.”

“Good, good. To travel is to open your mind to adventure. And for artists, that is important.” Julian took a drag, the blunt shining red at the tip. “You’re a great artist, Y/N. Your generation needs more people like you. Florence, too. I’m glad you two found each other.”

Across the square, the busker playing the trumpet had finished a song, and everybody around began to clap and drop money into the hat he put in front of himself.

“I think Flo’s better than me,” you said.

You didn’t look up, but from the corner of your eyes you could see him study you for a moment.

“There’s poise in you, Y/N. A tight-lipped coldness that made you perfect for this role. Now, I don’t know how it serves you in your day-to-day life, but that’s what makes you a great artist.”

It was easy to blame all of your problems on a single character flaw, to pretend that it’s a rotten part of you that couldn’t be fixed and people would just have to accept that part of you, because that was just who you are. But you saw how the rotten part of you—the one that Julian so highly praises—was poisoning your relationship, it was poisoning her.

“Where is Florence, Y/N?”

“She flew back home a couple of days ago.” You fumbled with your fingers.

“Listen,” Julian sat up. “Can I give you a word of guidance?” You nodded. “Sometimes we find ourselves at crossroads from which our lives would change forever once we’ve crossed them. Regret is a vicious predator, Y/N. It sneaks up on you like a ghost, when you’re eating, when you’re out running errands, when you’re making love. Once it’s got you, it sinks its teeth in and you’ll feel the pain soaking in slowly, agonizingly so. I’m proud to have done this film with you, Y/N, I really am. I just hope it wouldn’t be the end of another beautiful thing in your life.”

Your lower lip trembled, feeling Julian put a reassuring hand on your shoulder. You feared the animal had already sunken its teeth into you.

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Your muscles ached from immobility, having sat on a plane for 14 hours. The sun had just risen by the time you were at your front door.

Billie was the only one to greet you with a wagging tail when you were inside.

“Hi, baby,” you whispered, scratching the spot at the back of her head that the dog so loved.

Wheeling your suitcases further inside, you left them in the living room before ascending the stairs.

You had had your thoughts written down in an unwinding Notes page, something you did on the plane. But when you saw her resting figure on the bed, tightly curled under the sheets, the words died in your throat.

You felt it again as you slowly sat at the edge of the bed, that warm feeling spreading all over your body whenever you see her, the urge to reach out and touch her. But you were afraid she would be maimed by your poison.

“Hey, you’re back.” She rubbed her eyes, sitting up.

“I’m sorry I woke you.” You said.

“It’s okay.” Flo shook her head softly, itching a spot on her forearm. “How was the flight—“

“I’m sorry, for everything. I shouldn’t ‘ve . . .” You swallowed. “I hate that this is our reality now. I care about you, and I hate that we’re like this.”

Everything you wrote in your Notes app had seemingly vanished out the window. Flo, with sleepy eyes and furrowed eyebrows, listened.

“I felt as if . . . you’d been distant, that you’d rather spend your time with others—your friends—rather than with me. And I should have gone to you about it, instead I let my jealousy and insecurities dictate the way I acted.”

“You hurt me a lot, Y/N.”

“I know.” You whispered, wiping tears away harshly. “If you don’t wish to be with me anymore—“

“That’s not what I want.” Flo said firmly. “I want you to tell me what’s in that head of yours. Lately, it feels like you’ve blocked me out. I don’t want you to run away, but I can’t keep going if you continue to stray away from me. Breaking up would be so much easier, but I don’t want easy. I want you.”

You nodded frantically, a loud sob ripping through your throat. In that moment, you could only do what your most human desires told you to do. You sought comfort in her arms, knowing that no matter how hard you collided into her, she’d be willing to catch you. And then you weren’t so afraid anymore.

“I’m sorry,” you kept mumbling over and over.

Flo was crying too, and kissed the top of your head. “For the record, I’m never working with you again.”

“Deal.”

One taste of loneliness was enough.

#florence pugh x reader #florence pugh imagine #florence pugh imagines #florence pugh angst

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lgwifey · 3 years ago

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JEALOUSY PART TWO

90s!damon albarn x fem!reader

Summary : After the Brits, y/n finds herself bumping into Liam, an unpleasant conversation leading to awkward news articles.

Warning : use of 'f*g' once, not proof read

MASTERLIST

PART ONE

1995

Y/n directed herself through the smoke filled bar. Her shoes stuck to the wooden floors that seemed to have had an entire larger factory's monthly exports thrown onto them and her body was shuffled carelessly through the hot and sweaty crowds.

It wasn't this busy usually, one of the reasons it was one of her favourate drinking places. The lack of popularity of the dingy pub meant that she could go out with Damon without masses of press commenting on their every move. Unfortunatly, she'd forgotten that there was a rugby match on tonight and therefore the place was filled to the brim with what could only be described as 'the classic english man whose probably called Gary or something like that' and dolled up women, most of who she was contemplating asking where they got their shoes, dresses, earings etc. from.

When she'd finally found herself a table, she was sure Damon and Graham would be done ordering. There weren't that many of them out tonight; just her, Damon, Graham and Alex seeing how Dave had stayed at home to spend time with his wife.

A few minutes past and y/n had the pacience of a toddler so she stood up on the semi-circular booths seat and tryed to spot Damon or Graham within the ridiculous amount of people. Alex had nipped into the toilets with some bird he'd found outside so there was little chance of him coming back very soon.

"Com'on babe, where are you ?"

She muttered under her breath as she glanced around the room. She wasn't good at being by herself so this wasn't the most ideal situation for her. Her lip was starting to be bit, her nails digging into her now scarred palm. Soon y/n found herself tapping her long, y/f/c varnished nails on the circular dark oak table. Why the lads where taking so long, she didn't understand.

It got to a point where she felt like just leaving and going home. She couldn't stand being in the low-cut shirt and miniskirt whilst being completely sober, she needed a burn down her throught. She hadn't thought when she was getting dressed that she'd be left this long with her mind. The short, half pleated blue demin skirt was showing off the vast majority of her legs, the original thought of 'this is so cute' now having become 'what if people think my legs are too big ?'. Her long sleeved top was showing off nearly everything, the thin material letting the texture of her bra be seen easily even under the dimed lights. Now her thoughts where racing around like NASCARS and she felt a strong urgh to go home and cry in fluffy pyjamas whilst watching 10 Things I Hate About You.

"Funny seeing you here ."

As if the night couldn't get any worse !

Y/n tilted her to the left slightly finding the owner of the manc accent. She gave a roll of her eyes, her attitude clearly not being read by the over confident man seeing how he moved himself into the booth.

"Hi Liam."

Her teeth gritted together. It seemed that the Oasis singer had been following her everywhere the past few weeks after the Brits. She'd been considering getting a restraint order, but thought that might've been a tad bit too over the top.

Not only had he came into the booth, but he'd sat down about 30cm away from her, parka coated arm flung over the top of the chair and resting a finger-touch away from her shoulder.

"So, how’s the fag ?"

She turned and glared at him. Not only was he straight up insulting her boyfriend, but he was using slurs as well.

"I don't know Liam, how are you ?"

Y/n expected him to get wound up by her comment, what he did was on the very contary though. He just gave a smile, very un-liam.

"Damon's just getting me a drink and he'll be back soon so I suggest you hurry along, wouldn't want to cause trouble."

Liam shuffled closer to the uncomfortable woman, biting his lip hard and letting his eyes drop past her face.

" Y'ur so fuckin' sexy when you use that accent."

She gave him an obscured look. Her accent was normal according to her, a perfectly normal Whitechappel accent.

"Okay ! I'm going now."

Her hands flew up in a fluster when he went to rest his arm on her shoulder, jumping up and quickly exiting the booth, walking in the direction back to the bar through the crowd of sports fans. As she was walking out, she met up with Damon who was stood in the doorway.

"Dames I've been waiting down there for ages, why where you taking so long ?"

The blonde gave her a confused look.

"I thought you said to meet you at the end of the bar, I thought you just went to the toilets do we where waiting here for you."

"Urgh, forget it."

She rolled over the mistake, it was deafeningly loud and even with accustumed hearing due to concert, anyone can make mistakes.

Y/n was holding onto her goosebumped arms, a few fingers with rings hitting the lights from much further into the room and bouncing it off into a stranger's eyes.

"Could we just leave please. I just wanna go home right now."

Damon had agreed to leave without any pursuation needed. All he could see was that his girlfriend was uncomfortable and wanted to leave, he doesn't like y/n feeling that he controls her in anyway so leaving after one drink was the go to decision for him.

The next morning they had both woken up like they normally would. Neither had to deal with a hangover so the day went along usual.

Y/n had almost forgotten about yesterdays bump in with Liam, arising from her bed with a whine directed to the sun pokeing through the blinds.

If waking up to being blinded wasn't perfect enough, the landline started blaring rings across the rooms. Damon, being Damon, was still dead to the world. He somehow always managed to sleep through everything, often dropping off half-way through award shows and leaving y/n having to deal with people by herself, Gray and Alex being very little help seeing how they where usually hammered by the time the half time performance started.

"Hello ?"

Her voice held a harsh tone to it accidentally.

"Y/n, lovely to see you hunny."

The woman became less agitated when Hazel's voice came through the telephone.

"Damon isn't there is he? I just need to speak to him for a moment."

"Yeah 'course, one sec Hazel."

Y/n dropped the phone, leaving it hanging against the wall.

She ran back to the master bedroom, jumping onto the bed, subquency rocking the body awake.

She straddled over his waist, pecking him on the lips slightly before talking to him, lips still against his.

"Wakey wakey hunny bun."

He gave a groan at the cringe that just came out of his girlfriend's mouth, eyes fluttering open slightly.

"Lemme sleep."

He rolled over onto his side, knocking y/n off and onto the crumpled bedsheets.

"Dames, your mum's on the phone in the kitchen."

"What does she want ?"

"Not a clue,"

She pecked his cheek before jumping off of the bed and exiting the room.

"Get up."

Damon soon followed after y/n, having eventually worked up enough energy to move from under the plush covers.

Whilst he slouched tired against the counter whilst y/n leaned over and tryed to hear the conversation.

"Hiya mum... yeah, yeah it's nice to talk to you again too..."

He turned and widened his eyes in y/n's direction, causing a small giggle to bubble from her because of his over-dramatic agony from talking to Hazel.

She watched as his facial expressions slowly dropped, his face becoming numb. After a few seconds he gave a little hum and ended the call.

"No... thanks for telling me mum... yeah love you too. Bye."

Damon didn't say anything useful when he'd hung up, just grabbing his coat and sliding a pair of adidas on before leaving the flat in a rush. He didn't leave her anytime to question his where he was going or what his mum had said which had made him need to leave so quickly, only muttering a stern 'stay here y/n/n.'

As he opened the front door, a outragous amout of cameras where send flashing manic, causing y/n to jump back in shock.

Damon arrived back at home around half an hour later, a look of fury plastered on his face. His baby blue eyes where suddenly replaced with a dark tone and his brow had lines dinted in the middle of them.

Y/n noticed that in his hand held a copy of four different newspapers.

"What's going on Dames ?"

His eyes jumped up, almost as if he'd forgotten she was actually there in the room. The blonde scratched the back of his neck, teeth gritted and eyes clentched shut like he was begging for everything to just stop it's existance.

"Damon !"

"Gray got in a fight s'all."

She rolled her eyes, jumping up off of the couch where she was watching a recorded episode of Red Dwarf and ripping one of the newspapers out of his hand.

Right there, blasted front page was a murky photo of y/n sat down in the booth from the bar in yesterday night's outfit with Liam Gallagher's arm flung over chair back, above her shoulder.

She felt the heat fall to her face and tears start to work their way into her eyes.

The press always did this ! Since Liam had made everyone known of his little crush, which was probably just apart of his tiff with Damon, known to the world, she'd no longer been viewed by the tabloids as an actual real life human being. No, according to all of them she was just some toy to chuck about and cause drama with. She was constantly labled as a groupie who was only with Damon to get to one of his friends and anytime she was even caught speaking to a guy it was pictured and sold off to the highest bidder to corrupt into a heartless gossip article.

She suddenly jumped to speaking a hundred miles and hour.

"You're not angry with me right ? I didn't do anything, I didn't want him to talk to me !"

She burst into tears, both ones of anger, for the press and Liam, and ones of pain, she didn't want Damon to be mad at her.

Damon's eyes softened.

"No, why would I be angry with you ?"

Y/n waved a hand at the picture smacked slap bang center of all four paper's front page.

"Oh love, I could never be angry at you, especially not for being forced into a situation like that."

He pulled her in to a squashing hug, hoping she wouldn't be able to hear his mumbled words whilst she was smothered.

"Gallagher on the other hand, "

#damon albarn fluff #damon albarn x reader #graham coxon #liam gallagher #oasis #blur #90s #alex james #damon albarn #fem!reader #britpop #damon albarn x fem!reader

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spencersawkward · 4 years ago

Note

omg I’m so excited you’re on here and taking requests!! do you think you could do something like baby Spence losing his virginity to a close friend & it’s like adorable, goofy, fluffy smut bc he cannot get over the fact that he’s actually having sex with someone

I’VE BEEN WAITIN FOR THIS ONE-- TURN IT UP!!!

on a serious note, i'm so glad you asked for this one bc i really wanna add a scene like this in the fic i'm working on rn. i'm v excited.

summary: when the secret of Spencer's virginity gets accidentally spilled in front of the whole team, reader goes to check on him.

word count: 5.6k

relationship: Fem!Reader/Spencer Reid

content warnings: unprotected penetrative sex, creampie, fluff.

masterlist

hanging out with the team is easily the best part of the week. after spending days in Arizona with our focus entirely on the most recent case, my mind is practically ready to snap. I feel like I've been running on fumes, and when Penelope suggested we take the evening to hit our favorite bar, I was practically already out the door.

so now I'm sandwiched between JJ and Emily as we throw back our first shots of the night. my skin is already flushed with the elation of laughter, the pleasant thrum of conversation that surrounds us.

"that's bitter." JJ makes a face when she slams the empty glass on the table. I screw up my nose.

"why did we pick vodka?" I hate vodka.

"it gets the job done." Emily laughs. I shudder at the aftertaste that sits on my tongue.

Morgan wanders over, Pen on his arm while she totes a brightly colored pink alcohol. they're flirting as usual, but she pauses in her witticisms to grab my arm.

"we're playing truth or shot in that booth over there." she says to me, then gets the attention of the other two women. I let out a disbelieving laugh.

"truth or shot? like truth or dare but without the dare?"

"Reid, is that you?" Morgan says sarcastically. I slug him in the arm with a pout.

"be nice." but I'm giggling. he loops his arm through mine and we head back to the table, Penelope already starting a new conversation with JJ and Prentiss as they follow. Spencer is sitting in the booth with an Arnold Palmer, sipping from the straw like it's his job. I slide into the spot next to him.

"hi, you." I smile. "I haven't seen you at all tonight."

he holds up his glass. "I don't really drink."

"that's fine," I wave it off. "I just meant I wanted to hang out with you."

"oh." he smiles a little. "sorry."

"no big deal. you're here now." I shrug and turn to Pen as she calls my name.

"I'm gonna order a bottle. that okay?" she points to the bar with a mischievous smile. glancing once at Spencer and his slightly awkward position between Morgan and me, I make a snap decision.

"you know what? I think I'll just have a lemonade."

"you sure? Jayge said you spent the whole plane ride back talking about getting wasted--" Penelope's words cause a blush to spread over my face. I cut her off.

"I'm sure. thanks, Penny."

she nods. "of course, sweet cheeks."

I focus back on Reid, who is looking at me gratefully. he would never say it out loud, but I know he feels a little out-of-place sometimes. it's hard enough for him to come out with us to bars; the least I can do is be a sober friend. I open my mouth to start a conversation about an article I read the other day when Prentiss speaks.

"okay, so... who's ready?" her voice, always so certain, carries over the table. all of us make enthusiastic noises of assent, and she grins as Penelope returns with an armful of glasses. Derek gets up to grab the actual alcohol, and then when we're all settled in, the game begins.

"the rules are simple: you tell the truth, or you drink!" the tech analyst explains. the stakes for Spencer and me are lower, but that doesn't really matter. I'm excited to hear the team divulge their secrets.

"I'll start." Prentiss doesn't even hesitate before she looks at Morgan. "Derek, are you still sleeping with that one woman from sex crimes?"

Morgan raises his eyebrows at the question, irises flitting between Emily and the rim of his drink. there's a slight smirk on his face; he knows what a player he is and he's okay with flaunting it.

"Ally? no." he sighs. "things didn't end well between us."

"what? why?" I ask, eyes widening before I look around at everyone. "who is this woman?"

"cool your jets, sparky." Morgan teases me. "only one question per round."

"I'll tell you later." Prentiss raises her drink in my direction and winks.

"uh, no no." Morgan attempts to stop her, but JJ interrupts him.

"speaking of things not ending well," she says loudly. "Pen, why did you and Sam break up?"

"well," Penelope sticks her tongue between her teeth as she thinks it over with a devilish smile. her lips are a ruby red tonight, bright against her pale skin and big eyes. "to be completely honest, he just wasn't... doin' it for me. you know?"

"like--?" Emily glances down at her lap. Pen nods quickly and I snicker. JJ looks awestruck.

"I thought it was going so well."

"it was, but..." Penelope seems to genuinely think this over before she speaks. "if it's right, it just clicks. and it never clicked with Sam."

"profound." I compliment, high-fiving the high-energy blonde. we giggle before she turns to me with a glint in her eye.

"oh, do I have a plan for you," she smirks. "tell me, Y/N: if you had to sleep with one person on our team, who would it be?"

"women included?" I clarify, my cheeks suddenly on fire. how come everyone got easy questions except for me? I'm really just biding time.

"of course." she nudges my shoulder. I mull this over for a minute. I could say the truth, but I don't think that would be the right thing to do. however ironic that is. given the situation, I do something which I have never been good at and which I don't enjoy doing: I lie.

"although all of you are catches," I preface. "I think I would probably pick Emily."

Prentiss almost chokes on her own spit as her head snaps to see my face.

"me?" she asks.

"low-pressure fun." I shrug, the stress of the moment rolling off my shoulders with the ensuing laughter of my team members. Spencer takes a sip of his drink and peeks at me from his spot before I focus my attention to JJ.

we go on like this for a while, our original plan of "truth or drink" really just turning into a game of "truth and drink." as our laughter gets progressively louder, our questions and answers get progressively more provocative. we get into risky territory towards the fourth round, and I can practically feel Spencer's discomfort radiating off of him. thank god everyone has been taking it easier on him with their questions.

that is, until Morgan hits about five shots and decides to throw him to the wolves.

"so, Reid," he asks. there's no malice in his tone and I'm sure he's not meaning to embarrass the boy genius, but the question makes me wince anyways. "have we made any progress on the virginity front?"

it's like a fucking pall over the table. Reid goes rigid in his spot, and JJ's protective eyes dart between him and Morgan. Penelope's jaw drops.

"wait, Reid, you're a--?" her voice is tender, not judgmental, but Spencer's cheeks turn pink and he looks at Derek with a hurt expression.

"not cool." he says, body shifting in my direction. his eyes communicate everything; without a word, I know what he wants. I scoot out of the booth, letting him slip by me to walk outside.

truly, I'm speechless. we all stare at his lanky frame push through the door, but nobody talks until at least fifteen seconds pass.

"what the hell was that, Morgan?" JJ asks.

"I thought everyone knew--" he throws his hands up. "I swear I wouldn't have said anything if--"

"why would everyone know that?" I feel myself get angry for Spencer's sake. "that's an incredibly personal thing, especially to him."

"that wasn't you, my love." Penelope's voice is soft, sobered by the incident that just occurred. the playful air at the table is officially ruined, and we keep glancing at the doorway like Reid will come back in and everything will be fine. he doesn't.

"I'm gonna go apologize." Morgan starts to get up, seemingly beginning to realize the weight of his words. it's one thing to ask about Reid's sex life in general; it's another to point out specifically the entire absence of it. Spencer doesn't seem to be bothered by most things, but this is different. my heart hurts.

we watch Morgan go, the women all looking at each other with worried expressions.

"I feel bad." Penelope says.

"y'know, Spence never told me that." JJ observes.

"he really trusts Morgan." Prentiss says what we're all thinking. Morgan has always been like a big brother to him, and being embarrassed in front of your co-workers like that can't be a pleasant feeling.

we sit in a relative silence for about five minutes until Morgan walks back into the bar. he pulls out his wallet and pays for the drinks, then walks over to us.

"I'm gonna go for a walk. do you need me to call you all cabs?" he asks. those dramatic brows are drawn low over his face, emphasizing his regret. I look between my friends and clear my throat.

"it's okay. I only had one shot about an hour and a half ago. I can drive everyone home."

"okay," Morgan sighs, his head turning briefly to the door before focusing back on us. "drive safe, ladies."

and then he's gone.

"you guys ready?" I start to shrug my jacket on. they all nod and we get ready to go.

...

sitting in my apartment later that night, my head is swimming. even though it's none of my business what happens in Spencer's sex life, I wish I could tell him that it's okay. nobody cares at all if he's a virgin or not. but I know it's still embarrassing.

I hate that I lied earlier tonight, too. I wanted to say Spencer's name when they asked who I wanted, because I meant it. we're close, and I will always love him as a friend. but I've also always wanted more.

nobody, not even any of the other BAU women, know about my crush. I didn't want it to get in the way, or for it to come out and ruin my friendship with Reid. he doesn't like me like that, and that's fine, but what's not fine is not having him as my friend.

he was the first person I really connected with when I came here, and I feel a little protective over him, too.

once the clock hits eleven, I consider calling. he’s definitely not asleep yet. Spencer is a night owl. normally at this time he'd be curled up with a huge book, reading impossibly fast.

when he picks up on the third ring, the air leaves my lungs.

"Y/N?" he asks, more surprised than anything else.

"hey, Spence--" I hesitate, suddenly not sure what to say. sorry Morgan told everyone you're a fucking virgin? “do you wanna come over?"

maybe if I see him face-to-face, I'll be able to collect my thoughts better. the words hang in the air, festering over the line until I'm just about to take them back, before he replies.

"y-yeah. I'll be there in fifteen minutes."

my hands are shaking at my side when I open the door for the tall genius. he's still wearing his outfit from earlier, hair slicked back like normal. I've settled for my usual sweatpants and t-shirt winning combo. it's not like he cares.

"hey." I smile, trying to read his micro expressions. there are two possible outcomes here, knowing him: either he's going to be totally, completely over it, or he'll be able to write a War-and-Peace-length book on why he's upset.

"hi." he gives a wan smile and I let him into my apartment, closing the door behind him and gesturing to the couch.

"I missed this place." he says absently, looking around at the mess of decor and case files. I snort as I recall the last time he was here. he wanted to borrow a book that I had, and we ended up watching an entire docu-series about homing pigeons. it was surprisingly interesting; mostly because his commentary is both informative and funny.

"it missed you." I anthropomorphize my living space, but the phrase hangs heavy. I'm worried about him. I'm always worried about Spencer. he turns to look at me, opening his mouth to say something. I brush past him and walk into the kitchen. "coffee?"

"sure." he follows me like a lost puppy, leaning against the counter while I pull out two mugs and get to work.

"hey," I pause for a moment to look him in the eyes. "I just wanted to say that I'm sorry-- about what happened... tonight."

"oh, that?" he scoffs, waves it off unconvincingly. "it's fine."

I raise my brows the slightest bit, never breaking eye contact. he wouldn’t have come if he didn’t want to talk about it. he cracks easily.

"it's just embarrassing, you know?" he says, staring out my kitchen window to alleviate his own nerves. I gesture for him to follow me back into the living room and I sit down criss-cross applesauce on the couch. he mirrors me, kicking off those cute black Converse.

"I don't think the fact itself is embarrassing, but I totally get why it feels that way. he shouldn't have said anything." I nod.

"like, that's personal. a-and--" he hesitates a moment, gesticulating wildly now. "and it's not like he's got any right! at least I don't go around with so many girls that I forget their names."

the thought of Reid sleeping with that many women is a little bit funny, but it also makes my stomach twist with jealousy.

"did he apologize?"

"yeah, he did. and he was drunk, I know." he rolls his eyes. "I'm overreacting."

"no, really, you're not." without thinking, I scoot closer to him and place my hand over his, which is sitting on his knee. I remember that Spencer is usually pretty averse to touch, but when I move it back to my lap, he seems a little disappointed. I wonder if he gets lonely.

"is it weird?" the question sounds raw, like he's mustering a lot to hear my response. I shake my head immediately.

"well, for one, Spence, I would never judge anyone based on their sex life, period." I chuckle. "and two, no way! if you aren't into having sex at this point in your life-- or ever-- that's totally your choice and you're entitled to it."

his eyes meet mine, pools of honeyed hazel that swim with a slightly amber shade. his face is so pretty, it's sometimes unbelievable to me that he doesn't get more action. bone structure that would make a sculpture envious.

"that's the thing," he licks his lips nervously before averting his gaze again. "I am interested-- I just don't-- well, I don't--"

"don't have someone to do it with?" I suggest with a slight smile. he nods, then clarifies.

"girls don't really seem to be interested in me."

I let out a laugh, unable to contain myself. his head jerks up to frown in confusion. I’m quick to amend myself.

"Spence, that's not true at all. you're such a catch! you're sweet and funny and way smarter than anyone I know. not to mention that you're adorable." I compliment, letting some of the thoughts I've been keeping to myself bubble to the surface. "any girl would be beyond lucky to be with you, sexually or not." Spencer blushes at my words, but the squirming in his spot tells me that it makes him feel warm inside. he smiles a little.

"you think?" it's genuine. he appreciates being praised, and it makes my heart flutter when he gives me that expression like I've made his night.

"I know." more of what I want to say rolls around my mind, unsure of whether or not I should admit it. but I think that right now, it'll only serve to make him feel better. "actually, I should tell you something."

"what?" he's curious now.

"when we were at the bar and Penelope asked who I'd be with... on the team... I lied."

"okay." he nods, somehow not connecting the dots. I guess it doesn't matter if they've got enormous IQs; boys are still clueless.

"I was gonna say you." the truth presses from the inside out, lifting a weight off my chest now that it's out there. even if he doesn't return that feeling, I'm suddenly glad that I told him.

"me?" he gestures to his narrow chest. I nod.

"yeah. I didn't wanna make you uncomfortable or embarrass you in front of our friends." I explain. he breaks into a grin.

"thanks." like I've given him something. I feel myself smiling as well, and then we're just looking at each other. tension that neither of us is willing to break. as much as I'd like to take him right here right now, he hasn't said anything about actually having sex or even about being attracted to me. for all I know, he could be completely indifferent.

"listen, Spence--"

"would you be willing to--" we speak at the same time, both of us stopping and laughing awkwardly.

"sorry, you go first." I offer, and he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth.

"would you want to... um..." he scratches the back of his neck before his eyes meet mine. "try it?"

"sex?" I raise my eyebrows. he nods. I try to find the right response. that’s more assertive than I expected. my pulse is fast, daring me to tell the truth. "I mean-- yes, I would love to-- but are you sure you want it to be with me, Spence? what about a girl that you like?"

"you are a girl that I like." he says this like it's matter-of-fact, like it's obvious. my heart stops in my chest before it starts to hammer.

"really?" a smile makes its way onto my face.

"I thought you knew."

"no." I laugh. my chest is full of sunlight.

"well, you are."

there's a brief silence where I try to get myself back on track. he likes me, too.

"are you sure you want to do this?" I glance at the space between our bodies, which has grown steadily smaller over the course of our conversation. Spencer is watching my every move with an intensity that tells me he's nervous.

"yes." he's unwavering.

"okay, well, you've kissed girls, right?" I inch closer. he nods.

"one."

"oh, Spencer," I sigh contentedly. "I have so much to teach you."

right after I say this, Spencer shifts uncomfortably in his seat. it's only then that I notice his hand covering his lap, the erection that's forming beneath his pants. my eyes flick up to his hungrily.

"sorry." he apologizes.

"don't be." our faces are inches apart and he's practically holding his breath. "I'm gonna kiss you. is that okay?"

"yes." he replies immediately. I place my hands gently on the side of his face, admiring the softness and sharpness of his jaw when I pull him to me, kissing him with a suppressed desire. his mouth is soft against mine, a little anxious to move. after a moment, he starts to relax.

his lips part and I deepen our contact, tilting my head and keeping it mostly mild at first. I don't want to shove my tongue down his throat. our knees are touching and his hand hesitantly finds my waist, the other going to run through my hair. I sigh into him, his fingertips a new sensation that I adore.

Spencer begins to give in a bit more to himself, asserting himself in the kiss and slipping his tongue over my bottom lip. I almost laugh at how quickly he gets the hang of it. he reads my body language effortlessly, not even skipping a beat when I climb into his lap and lace my arms around his neck.

"is this okay?" I pull away momentarily. he nods.

"you're so pretty." an unrelated response, but appreciated nonetheless. I laugh and peck his nose.

"thanks." and then we're back to making out, his hands resting on the small of my back. it's nice. I could stay like this forever, just pressed against Spencer while my fingers thread through his soft hair. he's cautious with me, and it's innocent.

I can feel his boner, can feel from the eagerness of his kisses that he's trying not to bring up the fact that he's literally just throbbing in his pants right now. in order to give him a little of what he wants, I start to rock my hips against his.

Spencer whimpers into my mouth. I stop and look down at him.

"do you want me to stop?"

"no, god, no— never stop." he's mindless in his reply, already grabbing my hips greedily and trying to regain that friction. I shake my head with a chuckle, then resume my actions. he starts to rut up against me, groaning into our embrace while his hands get more adventurous.

I withdraw, breaking the kiss to straighten up. he doesn't stop the microscopic pushes of his hips. I bite back a smile, enjoying the friction, too.

"do you wanna take my clothes off, Spence?" I ask softly.

"y-yes." he replies, gingerly taking the hem of my top and beginning to lift it over my head. when he places it on the couch beside me, his eyes immediately fall to my bra. slender fingers run up my bare waist, his watch glinting in the candlelight. when he doesn't immediately reach to unclasp my bra, I grab his wrist and guide it to the clasps myself. he moves with a surprising ease, unsnapping the thing and grazing over my skin as he slides the straps down my shoulders. I can tell that he’s shaking a tad, but it doesn’t hinder him.

the second that he's discarded the lingerie, he looks up at me with moony eyes.

"can I... kiss you?" he looks at my bare chest. "here?"

"of course, Spence." I nod. he presses his lips to the space between my ribs, drags them up to the valley between my breasts. lingers, then attaches himself to one of my nipples. I sigh, throwing my head back at the way he moves intuitively, sucking and running his tongue over the peak. he squeezes the other breast, plays with the nipple and starts to acquaint himself with the curves of my body.

the whole time, he's straining against my core, rutting helplessly in pleasure. it feels heavenly, with that sweet face of his so devoted to making me feel good, that I nearly stray from the purpose of the experience.

"Spencer..." I breathe. he moans at the sound of his name, then looks up at me from his place sucking on my tits. his teeth graze of my skin and I buck into his lap, causing him to groan appreciatively. my fingers tangle in his soft hair.

"Y/N," he pulls away from my chest, his lips making a soft popping sound. I gaze down at him, a bit lost in the fantasies running through my head. he's a natural. "can we, um-- like, expedite this process a little?"

"expedite the process?” I repeat back to him, giggling at his formality.

"what?" his voice goes up an octave, but he's smiling. "you know what I mean."

"I really do." I lean down, pressing my thumb into his jaw and angling his face up to mine to kiss. while his hands curiously move over my body, I start to push down the waistband of my sweatpants. I break contact just for a moment to peel them off, and he releases a quiet whine. it's cute.

"come back." he says softly, watching as I slide the bottoms down my legs, leaving me in my panties.

"I'm back." I peck his cheek, climb into his lap again. "can we take off your clothes, too?"

"mhmm." he nods. his lips part when my fingers work at the buttons of his shirt, undoing them with a torturous slowness. I can feel his eyes on my face the whole time.

"what?" I chuckle, peeking up at him for a moment before I pull his shirt open and run my palms up his chest, over his shoulders. he nearly shudders at the sheer touch.

"I just can't believe this is actually happening." he smiles in that way of his, like he's suppressing the depth of his emotions, with his brows slightly raised. I take the opportunity to enjoy the sight of him before me, his rapidly rising and falling chest, the smoothness of his skin.

"honestly?" I start to unbutton his pants, and he jerks up into my hand, blushing once he realizes the earnestness of his actions. I smirk encouragingly. "me, neither."

before I pull down his boxers, my eyes flick to his. "is this still okay?"

"Y/N," he groans. "if you don't do something, I'm gonna cum too early." he squeezes his eyes shut for a moment when my hand moves over his clothed erection, like he's holding on. "please."

"sorry." I release him from the confines. it hits his stomach and he waits for my reaction, as if he's afraid that I'll change my mind right now. but I'm definitely not going to. "holy fuck, Spencer."

"what?" he panics slightly, sitting up more. "is it not enough?"

"not enou--" I stutter, almost laugh. "no, it's plenty. I had no idea..."

"oh." he hides the pleased smile on his face, blush spreading over his pretty throat. in the interest of "expediting the process," I wrap my hand around the base of his cock and gently pump him.

Spencer's stomach tenses and he grabs onto the cushion of the couch with a tight fist, sighing.

"mmm..." he doesn't try to word his emotions, but I know. and I like that I'm making him feel this way, sharing this experience. Spencer and I are such close friends, I never thought we'd actually have sex. my assumption was that I'd watch him grow into himself, find a nice girl and treat her like a queen.

but here I am, spitting into my hand before jerking him off to prepare for what’s next. he’s throbbing, sounds coming from his throat.

"I'm gonna sit on it, okay?" I lean down to whisper in his ear. he touches my waist, my neck, kisses a random spot on my chest in the waves of pleasure that I'm giving him.

"o-okay." he mumbles, waiting for me to actually do it. and there's a moment of tense anticipation between both of us, when I sit up and pull my panties to the side. Spencer watches like I'm the only thing in the world, saving the memory of my body on top of his for later.

I run the head of his cock along my entrance, soaking him in the wetness between my thighs. I didn't realize how turned on I'd already gotten, and he lets out a quiet whine when he feels the evidence of how much I want him.

our eyes lock when I sink down. it's a new feeling for him, and the shape of his member as it stretches my walls causes me to bite my lip to withhold moaning too loudly. he whimpers, neck tensing and fingertips digging into my hips.

"o-oh." he sucks in a breath as I reach the halfway point. he's so big, I have to go slow in order not to overwhelm myself. but it feels good, too. like... unbelievably good. I grip onto his shoulders and my head falls forward into his shoulder.

"Spencer, holy shit." I moan.

"does it feel nice?" he asks, concerned for my own pleasure. I feel my chest flutter at the thoughtfulness of the boy wonder even when he's in the midst of losing his virginity, and I lower myself onto the rest of him.

"mhmm," I rest for a moment. "how do you feel?"

"like--" his breath hitches when I begin to rock back and forth on him. "like I've been missing out."

I can't help the giggle that slips past my lips, but then it quickly turns into a longing moan when he starts to thrust up into me like a helpless thing. Spencer is brilliant, but his brain cells go out the window when he throws his head back and begs me to move more.

I nod, raising and lowering myself until we reach a special pace. it's not fast or slow, just the two of us trying to stay in the moment while we hold on tightly to each other. I can feel the cool metal of his watch when he splays his hand out over my spine, the warmth of his breath while he pants against my shoulder.

he hits my g-spot over and over. my moans are torn from my throat by the burning of my lungs. it's like I can't breathe because I'm so focused on chasing the orgasm building in my stomach. and Spencer... I can tell he's almost finished.

the erratic nature of his jerking body tells me.

"I'm gonna cum..." he moans into my neck. "do- do you want me to pull out?"

"no." I arch my back and throw myself into the friction of our bodies. he stares up at me while I ride him, the merciless grinding of my hips because I just can't help myself. "oh my god, Spencer."

he notices how close I am and, in a surprisingly deft move, slides two fingers over my pussy to find my clit. the ensuing noise from me tells him that he's found it, and he begins to rub in quick circles. it's rough and hard, but that's exactly what I need right now.

"cum for me, Spence." I breathe. his free hand grips onto my thigh and pulls me over him, his own words unintelligible within the sounds of absolute pleasure.

"please." he begs for something I don't know, spills his seed inside of my pussy and holds onto me like I'm an anchor to this world while he peers into the next. the feeling of him spreading through my stomach, along with the reckless movements of his limbs and the way he looks at me while he rides out his orgasm, sends me over the edge.

"oh my fuck!" I collapse, grabbing his shoulders tightly and rolling myself down while he removes his fingers from my body. it's jarring, the intensity, like my normal functions can't respond correctly. all I can process is the tightening of my stomach, the pleasure between my legs, vision going slightly fuzzy at the edges. he moans when my cunt flutters around him, the muscles trying desperately to hold him here with me forever. I take deep breaths and slow down, my forehead dropping again while I start to remember my own name.

neither of us speaks. I think I'm still too in shock about what just happened, but in the best way. he keeps running his hands over my skin, then wraps his arms around my torso so that I'm pulled against his chest. I smile, kissing his ear before I finally break the silence.

"hi."

"hi." he's got a satisfied tone.

"do you need anything? water?" I ask, exhausted but realizing that this is still new for Spencer and it's my job to make sure he's as comfortable as possible. he nuzzles his nose into my clavicle and squeezes me tighter.

"stay here with me." there's a slight edge to his words. he's afraid of me leaving. I snuggle down, perfectly happy to remain. heat radiates from his skin, and I like the way it feels.

"of course."

we linger in each other’s arms, both of us coming back into the real world and holding on in an attempt to soften the blow. I just had sex with Spencer.

"thank you." he whispers into my hair.

"for what?" the smile on my face is lazy.

"for doing this."

"well, I really wanted to." I laugh. "so, I guess, thank you, too."

"you're quite welcome." his response is cheerful and then we're both laughing, the sound rumbling from his chest. "can we do it again at some point?"

"I would be happy to." I beam. the contented sigh that leaves his lips, followed by a slight sinking of our bodies down the couch in collective exhaustion, fills me with a joy that's quiet but obvious.

“I’ll last longer next time, I promise.” he says. I can practically hear the blush in his cheeks.

“you did amazing, Spence. don’t worry about it.” I press a few stray kisses to him.

I'll need to go clean up, soon, but it can wait a few more minutes. this is my favorite place on earth.

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #virgin spencer #reader x spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid one shot #baby spencer reid

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uomo-accattivante · 3 years ago

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Excellent article about bringing a re-make of Ingmar Bergman’s Scenes from a Marriage to fruition, and the twenty-year friendship that Oscar Isaac and Jessica Chastain share:

There were days on the shoot for “Scenes From a Marriage,” a five-episode limited series that premieres Sept. 12 on HBO, when Oscar Isaac resented the crew.

The problem wasn’t the crew members themselves, he told me on a video call in March. But the work required of him and his co-star, Jessica Chastain, was so unsparingly intimate — “And difficult!” Chastain added from a neighboring Zoom window — that every time a camera operator or a makeup artist appeared, it felt like an intrusion.

On his other projects, Isaac had felt comfortably distant from the characters and their circumstances — interplanetary intrigue, rogue A.I. But “Scenes” surveys monogamy and parenthood, familiar territory. Sometimes Isaac would film a bedtime scene with his onscreen child (Lily Jane) and then go home and tuck his own child into the same model of bed as the one used onset, accessorized with the same bunny lamp, and not know exactly where art ended and life began.

“It was just a lot,” he said.

Chastain agreed, though she put it more strongly. “I mean, I cried every day for four months,” she said.

Isaac, 42, and Chastain, 44, have known each other since their days at the Juilliard School. And they have channeled two decades of friendship, admiration and a shared and obsessional devotion to craft into what Michael Ellenberg, one of the series’s executive producers, called “five hours of naked, raw performance.” (That nudity is metaphorical, mostly.)

“For me it definitely felt incredibly personal,” Chastain said on the call in the spring, about a month after filming had ended. “That’s why I don’t know if I have another one like this in me. Yeah, I can’t decide that. I can’t even talk about it without. …” She turned away from the screen. (It was one of several times during the call that I felt as if I were intruding, too.)

The original “Scenes From a Marriage,” created by Ingmar Bergman, debuted on Swedish television in 1973. Bergman’s first television series, its six episodes trace the dissolution of a middle-class marriage. Starring Liv Ullmann, Bergman’s ex, it drew on his own past relationships, though not always directly.

“When it comes to Bergman, the relationship between autobiography and fiction is extremely complicated,” said Jan Holmberg, the chief executive of the Ingmar Bergman Foundation.

A sensation in Sweden, it was seen by most of the adult population. And yes, sure, correlation does not imply causation, but after its debut, Swedish divorce were rumored to have doubled. Holmberg remembers watching a rerun as a 10-year-old.

“It was a rude awakening to adult life,” he said.

The writer and director Hagai Levi saw it as a teenager, on Israeli public television, during a stint on a kibbutz. “I was shocked,” he said. The series taught him that a television series could be radical, that it could be art. When he created “BeTipul,” the Israeli precursor to “In Treatment,” he used “Scenes” as proof of the concept “that two people can talk for an hour and it can work,” Levi said. (Strangely, “Scenes” also inspired the prime-time soap “Dallas.”)

So when Daniel Bergman, Ingmar Bergman’s youngest son, approached Levi about a remake, he was immediately interested.

But the project languished, in part because loving a show isn’t reason enough to adapt it. Divorce is common now — in Sweden, and elsewhere — and the relationship politics of the original series, in which the male character deserts his wife and young children for an academic post, haven’t aged particularly well.

Then about two years ago, Levi had a revelation. He would swap the gender roles. A woman who leaves her marriage and child in pursuit of freedom (with a very hot Israeli entrepreneur in place of a visiting professorship) might still provoke conversation and interest.

So the Marianne and Johan of the original became Mira and Jonathan, with a Boston suburb (re-created in a warehouse just north of New York City), stepping in for the Stockholm of the original. Jonathan remains an academic though Mira, a lawyer in the original, is now a businesswoman who out-earns him.

Casting began in early 2020. After Isaac met with Levi, he wrote to Chastain to tell her about the project. She wasn’t available. The producers cast Michelle Williams. But the pandemic reshuffled everyone’s schedules. When production was ready to resume, Williams was no longer free. Chastain was. “That was for me the most amazing miracle,” Levi said.

Isaac and Chastain met in the early 2000s at Juilliard. He was in his first year; she, in her third. He first saw her in a scene from a classical tragedy, slapping men in the face as Helen of Troy. He was friendly with her then-boyfriend, and they soon became friends themselves, bonding through the shared trauma of an acting curriculum designed to break its students down and then build them back up again. Isaac remembered her as “a real force of nature and solid, completely solid, with an incredible amount of integrity,” he said.

In the next window, Chastain blushed. “He was super talented,” she said. “But talented in a way that wasn’t expected, that’s challenging and pushing against constructs and ideas.” She introduced him to her manager, and they celebrated each other’s early successes and went to each other’s premieres. (A few of those photos are used in “Scenes From a Marriage” as set dressing.)

In 2013, Chastain was cast in J.C. Chandor’s “A Most Violent Year,”opposite Javier Bardem. When Bardem dropped out, Chastain campaigned for Isaac to have the role. Weeks before shooting, they began to meet, fleshing out the back story of their characters — a husband and wife trying to corner the heating oil market in 1981 New York — the details of the marriage, business, life.

It was their first time working together, and each felt a bond that went deeper than a parallel education and approach. “Something connects us that’s stronger than any ideas of character or story or any of that,” Isaac said. “There’s something else that’s more about like, a shared existence.”

Chandor noticed how they would support each other on set, and challenge each other, too, giving each other the freedom to take the characters’ relationship to dark and dangerous places. “They have this innate trust with each other,” Chandor said.

That trust eliminated the need for actorly tricks or shortcuts, in part because they know each other’s tricks too well. Their motto, Isaac said, was, “Let’s figure this [expletive] out together and see what’s the most honest thing we can do.”

Moni Yakim, Juilliard’s celebrated movement instructor, has followed their careers closely and he noted what he called the “magnetism and spiritual connection” that they suggested onscreen in the film.

“It’s a kind of chemistry,” Yakim said. “They can read each other’s mind and you as an audience, you can sense it.”

Telepathy takes work. When they knew that shooting “Scenes From a Marriage” could begin, Chastain bought a copy of “All About Us,” a guided journal for couples, and filled in her sections in character as Mira. Isaac brought it home and showed it to his wife, the filmmaker Elvira Lind.

“She was like, ‘You finally found your match,’” Isaac recalled. “’Someone that is as big of a nerd as you are.’”

The actors rehearsed, with Levi and on their own, talking their way through each long scene, helping each other through the anguished parts. When production had to halt for two weeks, they rehearsed then, too.

Watching these actors work reminded Amy Herzog, a writer and executive producer on the series, of race horses in full gallop. “These are two people who have so much training and skill,” she said. “Because it’s an athletic feat, what they were being asked to do.”

But training and skill and the “All About Us” book hadn’t really prepared them for the emotional impact of actually shooting “Scenes From a Marriage.” Both actors normally compartmentalize when they work, putting up psychic partitions between their roles and themselves. But this time, the partitions weren’t up to code.

“I knew I was in trouble the very first week,” Chastain said.

She couldn’t hide how the scripts affected her, especially from someone who knows her as well as Isaac does. “I just felt so exposed,” she said. “This to me, more than anything I’ve ever worked on, was definitely the most open I’ve ever been.”

“It felt so dangerous,” she said.

I visited the set in February (after multiple Covid-19 tests and health screenings) during a final day of filming. It was the quietest set I had ever seen: The atmosphere was subdued, reverent almost, a crew and a studio space stripped down to only what two actors would need to do the most passionate and demanding work of their careers.

Isaac didn’t know if he would watch the completed series. “It really is the first time ever, where I’ve done something where I’m totally fine never seeing this thing,” he said. “Because I’ve really lived through it. And in some ways I don’t want whatever they decide to put together to change my experience of it, which was just so intense.”

The cameras captured that intensity. Though Chastain isn’t Mira and Isaac isn’t Jonathan, each drew on personal experience — their parents’ marriages, past relationships — in ways they never had. Sometimes work on the show felt like acting, and sometimes the work wasn’t even conscious. There’s a scene in the harrowing fourth episode in which they both lie crumpled on the floor, an identical stress vein bulging in each forehead.

“It’s my go-to move, the throbbing forehead vein,” Isaac said on a follow-up video call last month. Chastain riffed on the joke: “That was our third year at Juilliard, the throb.”

By then, it had been five months since the shoot wrapped. Life had returned to something like normal. Jokes were possible again. Both of them seemed looser, more relaxed. (Isaac had already poured himself one tequila shot and was ready for another.) No one cried.

Chastain had watched the show with her husband. And Isaac, despite his initial reluctance, had watched it, too. It didn’t seem to have changed his experience.

“I’ve never done anything like it,” he said. “And I can’t imagine doing anything like it again.”

###

#oscar isaac #jessica chastain #scenes from a marriage #hagai levi #michelle williams #elvira lind #behind the scenes #article

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mochikeiji · 4 years ago

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Exact Replica

Request: "Hi! I really love you're writing and was wondering if you could do prompt 25+29 for Kuroo Tetsuro from Haikyuu? And could it be angst to fluff? (Maybe Kuroo was ignoring the reader due to lots of work/stress so reader feels neglected?) It's totally up to you tho! Ty so much!!"

25. "Would you notice if I was gone?"

29. "I didn't mean it."

↠ Pairing: Kuroo Tetsuro x F!Reader

↠ Warning: angst to fluff, mentions of pregnancy and kuroo's sad childhood

↬ Word Count: 3.7k

↠ a/n: okay this is my longest one yet. I swear the prompt screams angst to fluff so much that I go into it.

↳ from Go! Go! Gogatsu Event

Kuroo Tetsuro achieved many great things in life after graduating from his university, with multiple acknowledgements and honors. Landed a position as a young CEO from a sports association at the age of 24, he had enough money in his pocket and bank to stable both of you financially. Life was good to him after having to build from the roots of his ruined childhood; the only years of defeat Kuroo doesn't ever want to repeat. His father and mother were in the same position as you both are; owning your own shared house, good working environment, investments and stability, married.

Up until this day Kuroo questions why his parents split. They were fortunate that they had every thing completed, sadly it was the family and love that wasn't taken care of. You could be the happiest person, yet the void inside would still be there, Kuroo thought. Foolish people were to neglect something more valuable than any object that is given. Whether it was his father or his mother that stopped nurturing what they both bonded for the longest time, they were both fools to let each other go over something simple. He vows to never let history repeat itself.

But now the tables seemed to have flipped for the both of you. Your lives not far from what he had ran away from. If Kuroo could eat his words back, he would've now that he was running late yet again to coming home, forgetting about the promise he swore to about joining you after a full month of being occupied in his office. Coming home to have you already tucked in bed, but suffering in silence.

Most days he didn't bother greeting you in the morning and night. As a good wife, you understand. He was a busy man with an important position to maintain.

There were times where you'd be tapping your foot down on the floor as the clock strikes at an ungodly hour with your messages still not bothered to be replied to or even read. But you understand. He's working! Always doing what he can for the both of you like the good husband he wanted to be.

Even if sometimes he'd come home without a kiss or a simple, "I missed you." you understand. He's drained. No time for silly, endearing affections. You've done them a lot before back when you were younger. You're adults! Married! A married partner shouldn't be feeling so needy when the other was only doing their part.

Even when sometimes your insecurities would kick in whenever you'd visit your husband to drop his forgotten lunch again, only to see him flocked by different women; probably secretaries, interns, and assistance.

You understand. You always did took such good care of what you two have.

Well had.

His home office door slams shut, awakening you from your nap on the couch. Didn't Kuroo notice you when he walked in? Looking at the clock you noticed it was near 11:30 PM since he's arrived. Late again, maybe he hasn't eaten anything? No worries, you thought sadly. Stretching your aching muscles, you made your way to the dining area. So far dinner was left untouched once more. Just how many times has it gone to waste because you continued on cooking for two?

Or rather, three.

You beam at the sudden reminder while preparing your husband's plate. You'd always miss him whenever he'd come home, never had the chance to surprise him at the right time of your little discovery about a week ago. Fear did struck you because of the possible reactions he'd give, but you were so excited in sharing the news that a couple would share the equal happiness from, you couldn't contain it any longer.

Maybe you should've chosen another time unbeknownst to you how your husband was hunched over his desk, clearly in displease of the previous events that had occurred during the meeting back in his office. Hence why his work stack added more piles of predicaments, only fueling his headaches more wishing he could just lay down peace and quiet without disturbance.

He grumbles at the knock on his door, only typing furiously with emphasized taps on the keyboard. You, not sensing the emitting aura from the room took it as a response for you to enter. It surprised you a bit on how disordered his home office had become. It was obvious his coat had been thrown carelessly as it lays on the floor, wrinkled. Carefully placing the plate full of food on the small coffee table at the side, you gingerly picked up the article of clothing. Lightly trying to smoothen out the lines before hanging it behind his door and turning back to your husband.

"Tetsu?" cautiously calling out his name, you were kind of wary at the fact he didn't turn to see you unlike he does before whenever you'd enter the room. "I brought you your dinner. You came home pretty late." you tried to maintain the light hearted tone of your voice to hide how nervous you were in telling him the big news.

The atmosphere was kind of eerie when all he did was hum meekly from your words. Feeling a bit disheartened from his lack of attentiveness, still forcing a smile, you padded a little closer behind him with your hands clasps together. "I also wanted— well needed to tell you something." averting your eyes away from him as you prepared in your head. With a small hope he'd turn around for once after a long time.

"Can it be another time? I'm in the middle of stuff here."

Another time.

Why is it always next time? It's frustrating enough to not see him or have him speak to you even for a moment, but this made your stomach churn in an unpleasant way. Frowning at his poor reply, you gulped a few of your sentence back. Not fully trusting your emotions getting in the way, "You never really talked to me before, Tetsu.. I get that you're busy, but it wouldn't hurt for you to give a little minute for me."

Even just a second as long as he'd finally notice you.

"(Y/n) if you understand then why bother? You can clearly see I'm busy." chest huffing out a harsh sigh, still not bothering to turn around. Gripping your hands tightly, your patience were starting to snap. "You're always busy, Tetsu! I never had a proper conversation with you again." raising the volume of your voice a little made his actions come to a halt. Chair revolving around to face you. His appearance made it obvious how exhausted he has been; tousled hair that he usually takes longer to style, the light forming bags underneath his eyes from the screen and lack of sleep. The visible annoyance marked in his expression. But couldn't he say the same for you?

"Fine. Here, you have my attention now. Are we talking properly now?" his way of provoking you wasn't in the right place. It only made you look at him in disbelief because you've grown to never meet such side of your husband before. The news you had originally planned to share vanished from your head, replaced with the restrained emotions that has been building up inside your heart, tipping over.

"Tetsu, what is wrong with you?" looking at him now seemed like you were talking to someone else. His words were curt and short with no intention of prolonging the conversation, itching to get back to work so he could be done with it. "I already you I'm just busy. I would be done by now if you didn't want to talk properly with me." he says as if he's the one in distraught. "Seriously, nothing's wrong but I think you aren't. You're never like this."

"That's because you never cared to noticed in the first place!" wailing out the collapsed emotions that has weighed you heavily. It was too late to stop yourself from voicing out the things your husband left aside. A full month of being a good, understanding image of a wife thrown away to the rubbles without even appreciating the the long nights of you waiting up for him, cooking meals even though the next day they'd end up being in the trash, tolerating the coldness of the used to be warm sheets, putting up with the insecurities you took upon yourself to hide to avoid troubling your husband further when all you wanted was for him to assure you that he still loves you and only you.

The fascade you put up just for him crumbles. And it infuriates you more of how he still doesn't notice.

"(Y/n), you know I've been working! There's so much stuff that needs to be attended for just so you and I could live normally!"

"Tetsuro, we are stabled, it's okay to slow down a bit. How is this any normal to you when you don't even realize how this affects me?!"

The chair slides back roughly against the floor with a loud creak as he towers over you. Glowering eyes with a dark expression looming over his face, clearly now enraged. "You're being selfish right now. I'm here doing what I can to support us and all you could think of was you, you, you. Can't you see I'm doing this for you as well? God what else do you want from me, the world?"

"I only wanted you to give me your time and attention even just for a second, Tetsuro! I've been doing my best for you all this month and I never said anything to trouble you!"

It hurts when he said how you were being the selfish one when it was the opposite. It dawned to you that all those days of giving your all for him wasn't once noticed. "Will you ever grow up already? Attention? Really? We're adults, (Y/n) not teenagers for fucks sake. My time is just wasted because of you!" he doesn't stop there even if you've had your mouth already shut from how he portrayed you as. His words were beginning to leave a deep scar in you as you quiet down to the next line.

"If you think that nothing is troubling me, there is! And you just happen to add in for crying out loud!"

There were no words exchanged after his meltdown. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he looks away from you— who's eyes were already watery. Unable to even tell your side anymore at the ache of your heart. "So..I'm just troubling you then?" quivering out your words, Kuroo clenches his jaw as the bubbling frustration was being held back with the last bit of restrain he had.

"Would you notice if I was gone, Tetsu?"

Instead of being alarmed by your chosen form of sentence, you watched with sad eyes as your husband pulled back his chair and faced his workload. He didn't even noticed you're already crying silently, "Not now, (Y/n). We'll talk later."

He doesn't even noticed how you walked out sobbing with a shattered heart nor the door in the living room closing. Leaving him alone for the next few hours in peace like he wanted.

Time went on quickly when one doesn't take their eyes off from their consecutive workaholic state. With a groan, he almost slams his laptop shut before stretching his bones, slowly relaxing the tense muscles. It's up to his co workers and assistance to deal with the load he's prepared to dump onto them after they threw all theirs to him. Hoping to freshen up his face, Kuroo tidies his desk up before making his way to the door. Stopping in realization of the now cold dinner that was left on the coffee table.

His stomach growled loudly at the lack of food it's digested in the longest run. It was still good if he heats it up, he does miss eating home made meals than his stale ones back in the cafeteria of his workplace. Grabbing the plate carefully he first made a short journey to the kitchen to heat up his food. Unusual it was to have all the lights out in the house. You'd always leave some opened when he was awake. Then again the guilt started to crawl up to his chest knowing he's the cause of why you'd forgotten.

Now entering the bathroom with water running down his face, he plans ahead the apology he owes you when he wakes up tomorrow morning. He could reschedule his own time since he is the boss. He closes the faucet right after he was done rinsing. Looking around for the towel his eyes caught something below the small organizer you put up next to the sink. Grabbing the towel above the first part of the organizer, bending down slowly to avoid getting cramps, his actions were quick to grab the object that caught his attention the moment it seemed so familiar and surprising.

Pregnancy test. Two lines for positive.

Having a child with you was the last thing he's yet to accomplish from his list, and here it was. As much as he wanted to be in denial, it all felt like surge of contentment drowns him in because he was going to be a dad. However his body began to tremble whilst still holding the test and staring intently at it. The previous guilt that was crawling beneath his bones became a dark, desolated hole of anxiety and fear that ate him whole. The things he's said and done will never be taken back no matter how he apologizes to the past events a few hours ago.

Hours ago. It was already 2:25 when the fight had ceased. Deep down he knows he couldn't wait until the next day to plead for forgiveness. After all, he did vow to never leave you both a day feeling heavy alone. Kuroo felt nauseous of how much of an asshole he had treated you. Like starting a game of volleyball once more, he was beyond nervous when he approached your shared bedroom. There was no excuse of his actions indeed as he solemnly enters the dimmed room. He sighs a little shaky when he closes in your bed, "Baby?" he starts, "Baby, are you awake?" it was one of the little things he's memorized that you'd do when you both aren't in good terms. You never really slept, just pretended because you always had the heart to wait up for him.

When he gets no response he reaches out to pat you, only coming to the sense that the sheets were left untouched; no warmth traced behind. You weren't there, any where. His blood runs cold and immediately fishes out for his phone in his pocket, speed dialing your number while he circles the entire area of the house in case you'd be there. Now he was more terrified when he hears the familiar voice mail from the living room couch where you had slept while waiting for him.

You left your phone. His wife wasn't home— his pregnant wife.

"Fuck." running a rough hand through his tangled hair. The lump on his throat grows but he refuses to let out a string of sobs. It was his fault you were gone at such an ungodly hour. Kuroo felt more than a bigger asshole than before he's made you come to the point of leaving home. Just as his mother did and never returned. The one thing he swore you two would never be the same came to life, only thought now is Kuroo doesn't know whether you've left him for good after being a neglectful husband and to have dishearten his own beloved wife like that.

"Would you notice if I was gone?"

Rang in his head as he stood outside the neighborhood, running. Chasing after a hallucinated image of you any place he tried to remember you'd be in. A fool he has been to have left you in a loveless marriage. He loves you, he really does. He can't imagine a life without you in it. Just as it was about to become the happiest he's wanted, he pushed it all too soon. A bad husband, he cries. "(Y/n), please come home." legs aching and panting from having to study all areas. It was pitch black; there were no opened spots for you to even go at an hour of slumber and chaos. The only convenient store did not even have you in it. You were no where to be seen and Kuroo breaks.

Of course he'd notice when it was all too late. The past he's ran away from was still the place he's returned now that the house was only occupied by nothing but rotten memories of the love he didn't took care of. The exact replica of a married life he desperately tried to dodge. "I'm so sorry." for the lonely nights he's left you to sleep, over thinking of what may have been your fault and always figuring him out tirelessly. For the small efforts of adoration he didn't took a glance at and gone to waste. For the words that were never even meant for you to ever feel. For being a neglectful husband. He was sorry he noticed too late how he ruined his precious wife.

Now he's left you on your own out in the dangers outside. If anything horrible happened to you he will forever be crushed. But the world thinks that second chances are given to those who truly deserve them after you came in quietly, slipping off your sandals and waving back to your friend who had dropped you off home. Your short break to the convenient store changed when you met up with her and drove back to her place to rant about what happened. Being the sluggish person you are whenever sadness hits, you never noticed how long you've over stayed. It wasn't like your husband was going to know if he still was working.

Much to your surprise that he wasn't, you stifled a gasp to find him with his hands holding his head that was leaned down on the table. His shoulders were lightly jolting with escapes of audible sniffles, indicating that he was in fact crying. If he looked exhausted before, it wasn't enough to describe his current state; as if he was a man who'd lost every thing as he sat there with all hope lost. Your foot padded on the creaky part of the floor in attempt to tiptoe over his hunched back to comfort him. Squeaking in the awkward situation you've put the room in when Kuroo turns his head behind to see you standing there a bit frightened, but concerned when you saw how disheveled his face looks.

"Tetsu—" his name got cut off short from when you almost tripped over your balance at the sudden impact of Kuroo throwing himself into your arms with his weight. You couldn't make out what he was mumbling on about, but you melt to his embrace even if he squeezes the living day lights from you, afraid that he was going crazy and you weren't real. "Thank God," litters of kisses were placed on your clavicle, "You're back."

He repeats, slowly convincing himself that you are indeed home in his arms, safe, no harm detected. Just home. "I'm so sorry.."

"I didn't mean it. I didn't mean any of what I said, I-I'm so sorry." your bodies swayed gently to the sound of your hushes and his cries of apologies. "Please don't leave me like that again. I was so scared."

"Shhh, it's okay, Tetsu. I'm sorry. I'm okay— we're okay." leading him to sit down at the couch, you placed the bag of different brands of sweets and junk on the table before facing your husband. You had to stifle in a laugh watching him wipe his nose, you couldn't help but be reminded of a mini Tetsuro by looking at him. The argument that stung you faded when he took a hold of your hands and mumbled another apology.

"You shouldn't be sorry for anything. I should be.." flickering his eyes from your belly to your bloodshot eyes from your own fiasco back in your friend's place, he slides in closer next to you where your shoulders touched. "I haven't been a good husband lately, have I?" he looks at you expectantly. Frowning, you still nodded. Tired of hiding your own feelings from him.

"I know you're busy most of the time, Tetsu. But I just wanted you to recognize me as your wife." thumbs quick to swipe away the tear that had shed from your eye, "We're in this together, remember?" he pulls you right from the arm, shoving your face to his chest in need to hold you for all the times he should've. Ignoring the dampness of his white long-sleeved polo, breathing in the scent of your sweet shampoo. You were still so forgiving and understanding despite on how equally tired as he was you are.

"I'm so sorry I've made you feel as if I never cared anymore. You never deserved that." his lips found it's way to the crown of your head. "I don't deserve you, and I really don't want to lose you after me being stupid." giggling through tears, fist connecting a soft punch on his chest, bubbling a chuckle to the surface as he lightly pulls you away from hiding.

"I really didn't mean all of those things I've said, baby. I love you and only you." stroking ever so lovingly your cheek, you don't catch on to the fact that his other hand was placed over your stomach protectively. Making a silent promise to not only you, but the soon to be new addition to the family that he will never again neglect what he should've cherished more and looked after than the constant worries at the back of his head.

Because he will never again repeat the replica of a broken family he once was born in.

#haikyuu kuroo #haikyuu!!#haikyuu imagine #haikyuu x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo tetsurou x reader #kuroo x you #kuroo x (y/n)#kuroo testuro #kuroo angst #kuroo fluff #hq kuroo #kuroo imagine #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro oneshot #raines: gogatsu event

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heyyyharry · 4 years ago

Text

Happier

(inspired by happier by Olivia Rodrigo)

Word count: 2.4k

I'm selfish, I know, I can't let you go So find someone great, but don't find no one better I hope you're happy, but don't be happier

Part 1: Drivers License

Part 2: Deja Vu

A/N: I edited the original lyrics to match the POV :)

Harry had come up with a thousand scenarios of how this day would play out. Actually, he’d been thinking of this day since the moment he’d received the news. He didn’t dare to hope that she’d say yes to coming back for a sequel. He’d been sure that they would write her character off, give a lame excuse for how his love interest could not make a return and make his character forget about her completely to move on with a new girl in town. It would have been great if it was that easy in real life. Once someone was written off the script, they were gone for good. Real-life relationships were not that simple. Goodbye didn’t mean ‘never see you again’. You would still share the same friend circle and social bubbles, and it was worse when you two worked in the same industry. Harry didn’t know how he’d lasted a year without running into her, not since the Grammys.

“Didn’t you two date?”

“No.” Harry shook his head, but his eyes stayed glued on Y/N from across the room. She wasn’t looking his way, too busy saying hello to everyone else. “No,” he repeated, more to himself than to his co-star. “We didn’t.”

“But she wrote an entire album about you,” said the other twin. What was her name again? Lulu?

“Luna!” cried her sister, Lex. “You can’t ask him that!”

“No, it’s okay,” Harry said with a tight smile, slightly annoyed by the blonde twins, but he didn’t want to seem like an ass on the first day of filming. “And I don’t know if it was for me. You should ask Y/N.”

“Ask me what?”

Harry flinched when he looked up and saw Y/N padding towards them. She hugged the twins, who seemed way too excited. Harry guessed they were Y/N’s fans. They gave off crazy fangirl vibes, probably just pretending not to know the drama to interrogate him. He couldn’t blame them for assuming he was the villain and definitely could not blame Y/N for portraying him as one. It was more important that he knew who he was and how much he had changed since his last relationship. Maybe they could finally be friends.

“Were they bothering you?” Y/N asked him once the twins had left.

Harry nodded. “They’re your friends?”

“Oh, I met them last year on tour. I’m surprised you don’t know them. They were on Disney.”

“I don’t watch Disney,” Harry admitted with a smile. “Well, not today’s Disney.”

“Understandable.” Y/N nodded and bit her lip. She seemed guarded with her straight back and hands hidden behind her. She eyed him up and down, quite subtle yet noticeable. “How have you been?”

“Pretty good,” he said, nodding slowly. “You?”

“Yeah, but mostly tired because of tour.”

“You’re done?”

“Yup, last night was the last show.”

“Nice.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Nice?”

Harry blinked. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No.” Y/N giggled. “You still sound very...you.”

“Well, shouldn’t I?”

“Yeah, you should. But it’s been a year so…I mean, you haven’t changed much.”

“Right,” he said lowly, his eyes falling to his feet. Harry supposed he should say something else, perhaps bringing up another random topic to discuss, but all he could think about was what had happened between them. Things had been messy, hadn’t they? How could they go back to before that? Before her first song about him. Before he’d chosen someone else over her.

Or he could talk about her new relationship. She’d been in a happy relationship for almost six months, right? No wait, hadn’t they broke up two weeks ago? He wasn’t sure because he hadn’t been catching up. If they’d broken up, he’d sound like an ass to even mention her ex’s name. He should just stay quiet.

“I’ll see you later?” she said, gesturing at her stylist who was waiting by the door.

Harry could ask her right now -- the reason she’d agreed to film the sequel to their first movie together. He’d heard from a very reliable source that she’d specifically asked her agent to decline any project that he was in. So did this mean they were good? That she didn’t hate him anymore? He could have gathered his courage and got the answer right then…

“Yeah, see you.”

...but he didn’t.

And so she gave him a smile and a little wave, then happily returned to her stylist.

“See you tomorrow, Y/N!”

“See you, Annie!” Y/N said as she put the rest of her things into her tote bag. Her new driver had got her schedule mixed up, and so she had to wait here for another half an hour. She was in no rush. It had been a light first day, and she’d had a fun time getting to know the new cast members and catching up with old friends.

She sat on the sofa in the lobby, legs crossed, texting her best friend about her day. She’d purposely left out the short off-screen conversation with Harry, and her best friend didn’t even bother to ask. In their world, he didn’t exist, and his name was censored in every conversation like a curse word that was even worse than ‘cunt’. Nevertheless, she didn’t hate him anymore. She was doing just fine on her own, being busy with her career, and she’d been in a happy relationship after her fall out with him.

She and the guy, a model, had broken up two weeks ago due to long distance and some differences that they could not change. They had ended on good terms and decided to stay friends. They said you could only stay friends with your ex when you still had feelings for each other, or you had never loved each other that much in the first place. For her, it was probably the latter. Her previous relationship had been more platonic than romantic, apparently. So she had nothing but the best to say about him.

As she was going through her camera roll, just reminiscing about the past, she heard footsteps approaching and looked up to find Harry. He offered a smile and gestured to the spot beside her on the sofa. “May I sit here? My ride is late.”

“Yeah, sure.” She hurriedly scooted over.

“Good job today,” he said. “You were great.”

“Thanks, so were you.” She smiled, and they both looked away at the same time. This was so awkward. She hated small talk. She’d never had to have small talk with Harry. Conversations with him used to be so easy and natural and silly. Whatever this was, it wasn’t them.

“Can we just be normal?”

At first, Y/N thought she’d been the one who’d said it, so when she realised it’d been Harry, she was speechless.

He swallowed and sat a bit straighter, still not looking at her. “I don’t want us to be weird and awkward.”

“Okay,” she said.

He cleared his throat. “Wanna try again?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Okay, not to sound like an ass but when Joey kept forgetting his lines, I was so pissed off, I could throw a chair at the wall.”

“Right?!” exclaimed Y/N, feeling free to have finally broken out of her shell. “Like, he doesn’t even have many lines. I know he’s new but damn...you can’t get far if you don’t learn your goddamn lines.”

Harry shook with laughter. “Oh God, we sound like dicks, don’t we?”

“Maybe.” Y/N laughed, covering her mouth. “But you know what? We can’t be nice in this industry. It’s impossible.”

“Shhh, if someone heard this, we would be into big trouble.”

“Oh please, I’ve had worse articles written about me than ‘Y/N speaks facts about her lazy co-star’.”

Harry tossed his head back and cackled. “The worst one I’ve got this week was ‘Harry Styles hates therapists.’”

“What?!” Y/N gasped. “No way! That’s so stupid!”

“Right?” Harry rolled his eyes. “I could get all my therapists to speak up for me but I’m kinda immune to bullshit now.”

“Therapists? Like plural?”

“Yeah, one in every city.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah.”

Y/N rubbed her hands onto her legs. “Rough year?”

Harry’s eyes rolled to the back of his head as he leaned back. “You have no idea.” Then he swept his hair out of his eyes, sucked in a breath, and finally looked at her. “I wish I could have talked to you, though.”

She bit her tongue, knowing what she was about to say next would disappoint her best friend so much, but she had to. “So do I.”

Harry looked taken aback before his lips curled into a smile. “It’s silly, isn’t it? I haven’t talked to you in a year, and I feel like I know everything that’s happened to you except that I don’t.”

What he’d just said might make no sense for most people, but Y/N knew exactly what he meant. She nodded and wetted her lip. “You only know as much as everyone else does.”

“Yeah, I got updates on you from the news and our friends.”

“Same.” Y/N smiled back. “I hate how they write articles about your new haircut but not mine.”

“I like your new hair colour.”

“Thanks. I like your new car.”

Then they both burst out laughing. It was fun and also a little bit strange that Y/N didn’t feel the same anxiety talking to him as she used to. It must be because they had grown and were now meeting again as better people.

“Damn, my ride's here,” Y/N said as she read the text from her driver. “I gotta go now.”

“Oh, okay.” Harry stood up and followed Y/N to the entrance. “Hey, just wondering--”

“Yeah?”

“Am I...am I still blocked?” He looked a bit flustered as she tilted her head and squinted her eyes. “On your phone. Because I remember you having my number blocked--”

“I unblocked you on your birthday.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah.” Y/N shrugged. “I should’ve sent you a happy birthday text but...I didn’t want your girlfriend to get the wrong ideas.”

“My ex.”

“Yeah, I know.”

They smiled at each other one last time before saying goodbye. Y/N knew it was silly, but she was hoping he would go after her.

Ding.

A notification popped up when she was in the car. She was almost home, and it was from Harry’s number. He’d sent her a link with a message that said, “Hope you like it :)”.

Curious, she tapped on it and was directed to an audio file titled ‘Track 5’. The upload date was last year. About two weeks after their short conversation at the Grammys.

Hurriedly, she fumbled inside her bag for her iPods and put it on before she pressed play.

“Hey, Jeff, I couldn’t sleep so I wrote this song. Listen and let me know if it should go on the album.”

Then came the piano intro. It sounded good, so Y/N wondered how it hadn’t ended up on his last album.

But when he started to sing...

We ended a while ago Your friends are mine, you know, I know You've moved on, found someone new One more guy who brings out the better in you

And I thought my heart was detached From all the sunlight of our past But he’s so nice, he’s so funny Does he mean you forgot about me?

Oh, I hope you're happy But not like how you were with me I'm selfish, I know, I can't let you go So find someone great, but don't find no one better I hope you're happy, but don't be happier

And does he tell you you’re the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen? An eternal love bullshit he might not even mean Remember when you were with me I meant it when you heard it first from me

And now I'm pickin' him apart Like cuttin' him down will make you miss my wretched heart But he’s charming, he looks kind He probably gives you butterflies

I hope you're happy But not like how you were with me I'm selfish, I know, I can't let you go So find someone great, but don't find no one better

I hope you're happy I wish you all the best, really Say you love him, baby Just not like you loved me And think of me fondly when your hands are on him I hope you're happy, but don't be happier

The song was for her. He’d written it when her new relationship had gone public. Y/N sat there, staring blankly ahead until the honking of a car tore open her inner peace, and reality came crashing back in. The driver dropped her off at her house. Instead of going inside, she stood on her front steps and replayed the song one more time. When it ended, she decided to text him: Why didn’t this make it to the album?

She didn’t know where he was now, but it showed ‘typing’ in less than a second, as if he’d been waiting in their chat since he’d sent that link.

You would’ve hated me, Y/N.

True, she replied. Still, I would’ve loved the song lowkey. And added, I love it btw.

He took so long to type that it was driving her crazy. She flopped down on the concrete stair with her phone clutched in her hands, her heart thundering against her ribcage. Anxiety popped like a balloon when his message appeared: Were you happier?

She reread it again and again.

No.

I wasn’t either, he responded. I kept getting deja vu.

Ha, nice reference.

That song is my guilty pleasure. Love listening to you roasting me on loop.

That last message made Y/N bury her face into her palm and giggle like a fool. She thought for a second and wrote: I could come roast you in person now if that’s what you prefer. I think we’ve never had a proper roasting.

Can we meet, Y/N? Or are you busy now?

No, not busy.

Great, I’ll pick you up.

Just tell me where, she responded with a smile on her face. I got my drivers license now :)

#harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles angst #harry styles one shot #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles fic

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devildomimagines · 4 years ago

Note

Could u do another "I'm not (blank) enough" requests but instead of MC saying something negative it'd be the brothers saying they aren't enough at something?

This was an interesting request, thanks Anon! I'm sorry it took me a while to get through it but I really had to dig deep to figure out what these arrogant, all powerful demons could feel insecure about.

Here is my other piece Anon is referencing: "I'm Not _______ Enough."

I changed it up a bit from the original but I hope you like it! Also I got carried away and this got pretty long so the other brothers are under the cut lol.

"Am I _______ Enough?"

Belphegor

“Am I reliable enough?”

You had woken up from your nap to his words, and asked “What?” While wiping the sleep from your eyes.

“Can you depend on me?” He reworded the question but didn’t make eye contact.

“Belphie?” You guided his face to look at yours.

“Actually never mind,” he backed out of the conversation and the bed.

“Wait,” You sat up and pushed out of the bed too, already missing the warmth.

Once in front of him, you stated, “You’re reliable!”

His blush was slight but you caught it before he amended, “I know that I’m not always hanging off you like Mammon or Asmo-“

“That’s ok!” You interrupted, “Sorry,” you quickly apologized when he gave you a look.

“But I know that with your sin, it gets physically uncomfortable to be awake for long periods like how Beel gets after not getting enough food. I know if I ever needed you,” you took his hand, “you’d be there.”

He took a moment to let the scene sink in before squeezing your hand, giggling, and roughing up your hair, “That’s right, bed head,” He teased.

“Yours isn’t any better!” You moved to do the same to him but he dodged.

The two of you continued to play fight but didn’t let go of the other's hand. Belphie seemed lightened by your confirmation and you enjoyed the rare bout of playful activity with the youngest.

Beelzebub

“Am I warm enough?”

“Heck yeah! You’re like a space heater!”

He laughed, “Thanks, MC.” But his smile faded too quickly.

“Oh, I’m sorry, did I misunderstand?” You went from sitting across from him to sitting next to him at the table, “Do you not want to be a space heater?”

That got him smiling again, “No, that’s not it, I guess I meant warm like friendly?”

“Well then it’s a resounding yes, you’re super friendly Beel!” You gave his back a rub and a pat for punctuation.

“Oh… ok,” he went back to his snack which you assumed he would but his response wasn’t sitting right with you.

“Do you not believe me?” You looked up at him with your best puppy dog pout.

Congrats, your cuteness made the Avatar of Gluttony choke! He coughed and pounded on his chest with a closed fist.

You offered your apology and he waved it off as he took some gulps of his drink.

“No I do believe you MC.” He started covering your hand on the table with his and before your hand was completely enveloped he stopped.

“What is it then?” You prodded.

“Just a teammate commented on how I made chills run down his spine with just my stare.”

“Ah, I think Asmo would know that as a resting b*tch face,” you scratched your chin sagely

He frowned, “I can’t do anything about that, that's just how my face is.”

“Exactly! So don’t stress it, he’s still your teammate and friend, right?”

“Yeah, that’s true,” Beel mulled it over and you could practically see the weight of it rise off his shoulders as he sat up straighter and accepted it.

“There he is,” you thought as he exuded an easy confidence but your thoughts were disrupted when he pulled you into an embrace. He whispered near your ear, “Thanks.”

“Who could think this wasn’t warm?” You thought as you snuggled into his hold.

Asmodeus

“Am I attentive enough?”

“What brought that up?” You questioned looking up from your spot on his bed. It wasn’t like Asmo to show his insecurities.

“Just some gossip going around,” He tried to minimize the claims and continued fussing with his hair.

“Oh, well, you know how gossip gets, you just have to ignore it and it’ll go away,” you repeated the same advice he had given you when you first arrived in the Devildom and there were vicious rumors and tabloid articles written about the exchange program participants.

“But am I?!”

The hurt look on his face paired with the desperation in his question made it plainly obvious this meant more to him than he wanted to let on.

“Of course-”

Asmo cut you off, “MC, you have to be deadly honest right now.”

“You’re attentive Asmo,” You confirmed without a shadow of a doubt.

He chewed his lip and cheek debating the statement.

You got up from the bed and came to stand in front of Asmo. You cupped the cheek he was chewing on and he stopped.

With a small nudge you made him swivel to look back in the mirror, “What were the rumors saying?” Your own curiosity running wild, what could bring Asmo to this?

Surprisingly Asmo looked away from the reflection of you two to answer in a small voice, “That if I didn’t pay attention to you, they’d sweep in and take you for themselves.”

That stunned you for a second, you didn’t think it would involve you. “Well first of all, I don’t even know them, how are they going to even get close to me at this point?”

Asmo considered this, you were always with him or one of his brothers.

“Second, you’re always paying attention to me, you probably know my facial expressions better than I do,” you laughed and he couldn’t help a small snort of his own.

“Third, even on days when you’re stressed, or excited about a new make-up launch and your energy is elsewhere, you always,” you squeezed his arm for emphasis, “ALWAYS check in on me.”

Asmo bit his lip once more but this time holding back a smile. He clearly couldn’t hold it back when he locked you in a hug and squealed your name.

Satan

“Am I patient enough?”

You knew this was something that he consciously worked on so you quickly confirmed, “Yes,” then turned the page of your book.

He was a little shocked at your quick resolution and not totally satisfied. He closed his book and asked, “There was never a time when you think I couldn’t have been more patient?”

“Well sure, but I think that about myself too.”

That was also surprising to Satan, “How? You’re even more patient than me.”

“I’m only human,” You shrugged, as you closed your own book, recognizing this was going to be more of a discussion.

“And I’m only demon?” Satan returned sarcastically. He did not appreciate the turn of phrase.

“Sorry, I meant, I’m not perfect, no one is. You can’t hold yourself to an impossible standard because you’ll only be destined to be disappointed when you don’t live up to it.” You paused for the idea to settle with him.

He contemplated the sentiment.

“The way I see it,” you continued, “As long as you’re trying to do better then that’s what matters.”

Satan weighed that thought as well.

“And there is an even bigger secret with patience that not a lot of people know,” you baited.

Satan asked “And what’s that?” Hook, line, and sinker.

“I don’t know if you’re ready,” you taunted and reopened your book. If there was one thing you knew you could entice Satan with, it was some kind of hidden knowledge.

He moved across the room and closed your book in your hand for you.

You looked up at him looming over you with a sweet smile.

He smiled back at you, knowing you were playing with him. “And what’s that?” He repeated but you knew it was more of a command this time.

“Fine, I’ll share the secret with you so listen well.”

He started to nod before you caught his face in your hands. His eyebrows shot up to wordlessly question your action but didn’t break the silence, his proof he was listening.

“People don’t always realize that the most important part of patience is…” you paused and savored the interest in Satan’s eyes, “that you have to afford yourself the same patience you give to others.”

His brows furrowed trying to unravel the words in his mind.

While he did so, you pulled his head down slightly so you could give him a quick kiss on the forehead. Then pat his cheek and released him.

He took a step back, almost in a daze, you certainly gave him something to think about.

Leviathan

“Am I supportive enough?”

You looked up from the manga you were reading and Levi was staring down at the manga in his hand. His hands were holding the sides tightly as he waited for your response.

“How so?” You prompted.

“L-like this,” Levi pushed the manga towards you. You scanned the panels, the scene being depicted looked like it was one where the love interest was cheering on the main character while they were participating in a sports festival.

“Well you’re not like this,” you had to be honest and you could see he was already starting to sulk, “but you’re supportive in your own way.”

He tsked and took the manga back.

“Levi, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings,” you apologized.

“It’s fine,” Levi turned the page, “I know I’m a gross otaku shut in.”

“No, stop.” You closed the manga, you dug this hole so it was time to climb out.

He listened and looked over at you, annoyed.

“You’re supportive Levi. There are different ways to be supportive!”

He rolled his eyes, not believing you.

Alright this guy wants to play hardball, you could play with the best of them. “You always make sure that I’ve eaten and slept, even if you haven’t. For as long as we’ve had a pact, you’ve always come to my defense even though I know you hate confrontation. When I find a new show, game or book that I’m interested in, you always take the time to learn about it yourself so I can talk to someone about it.”

By the end, Levi’s face was red, his ears were red, you could swear his hands were even shaking a little bit.

“So sure, you’re not yelling your support from the roof of the House of Lamentation like that character,” you took one of his hands and his eyes darted between your face and your interlaced hands, “but I appreciate your quiet kind of support.”

Leviathan.exe has stopped working. It took a solid 5 minutes to regain his voice.

“M-M-MC!” he whined, “That’s so embarrassing!” He slumped down to hide his face but didn’t dare remove his hand from yours.

“Was it super effective?” You laughed at your joke.

He groaned from his drooped state but he squeezed your hand and you knew that it was.

Mammon

“Am I humble enough?”

At first, you have to bite your tongue to keep from outright laughing.

Surely the demon who regards himself as “The Great Mammon” would see the irony in asking this.

But he was quiet and reflective, a stark contrast to his usual self.

You sat down next to him on the sofa in the living room, with a pat on his back you opted to offer what you thought he wanted to hear, “Sure you are buddy.”

“Are ya messing with me?” of all times for Mammon to be observant.

You were as bad a liar as he was so when you looked away and scratched your cheek instead of answering Mammon knew you were lying.

He sighed and his shoulders dropped as he caught his head in his hands.

“Well you don’t have to be humble!” You defended, feeling bad for your white lie earlier.

He peeked up at you and you took the opportunity to stand up in front of him, “You’re like the third strongest demon in all of Devildom! You should be proud of that!”

He rolled his eyes but you could see a shadow of a smile play on his lips.

“Not only are you strong but you’re very caring, not only to your brothers but to me too,” you suggested and on queue Mammon flushed.

“I’m not,” he tried to deny.

“Oh that’s not true. Remember when Belphie ruined that painting and you took the fall for it?”

His eyes opened wide in shock, “How did you-”

“Or that time when I was sick and you took such good care of me?” You added in a sing-song tone.

“Shuddup!” Mammon was now standing and placed a hand over your mouth as he looked around for his brothers. He looked back at you, “I got a reputation to uphold, y’know.”

After a muffled laugh, you pulled his hand away, “What I’m saying is you don’t have to be modest.”

“Yeah I guess when you put it that way,” He rubbed the back of his head considering.

“So what’s on the agenda for the day for The Great Mammon?”

He squinted his eyes at your teasing tone but smirked and grabbed your hand to drag you along. You went willingly with a snicker.

Lucifer

“Am I compassionate enough?”

He didn’t look up from the paperwork he was reviewing when he posed the question to you.

At first you tilted your head and wondered if he was even addressing you.

When he did finally look up, you knew he was waiting for your answer.

“Yeah, I think so?” You didn’t mean to phrase it as a question but were more concerned with how this even came up.

“You think so?” Lucifer repeated incredulously.

“Yes,” you reinforced, “where’s this coming from?” You were taking a risk in questioning Lucifer, there was probably a 50/50 chance he would actually answer.

It was rare that he would even voice a question about his character.

He frowned and went back to his paperwork. You figured that was the end of the conversation, this being the 50% of the time that he would not answer. You went back to perusing his record collection to find something to play.

“Simeon mentioned how ruthless I’ve become.”

You looked back over at Lucifer. He looked more tired than he did just a moment ago. Simeon’s comment must have been wearing on him.

You picked a record you knew he liked and put it on before walking over to his desk.

He sighed, put down his pen and rubbed his eyes.

You leaned against the desk with your arms crossed and he faced you, the weariness even more apparent up close.

“Can I be honest with you?” you asked.

He grimaced, already thinking the worst but nodded.

“I think your ruthlessness comes from a compassionate place.”

From his one raised eyebrow, you could tell that wasn’t what he was expecting and he was waiting for your explanation.

“For example,” you began, “you care about your brothers, so when you punish them, it’s for their own good or to save them from a worse fate. You might not admit this one, but you’ve become sympathetic to Diavolo’s moods and disposition and so acting in accordance with how it will reflect on him and enforcing those standards has become second nature, hasn’t it?” He looked away.

You knew he wouldn’t answer that so you looked away yourself and continued, “You may have at first picked me as a candidate for the exchange program because of my connection to Lilith and housed me at the request of Diavolo,” you laughed at what you were about to say for the first time out loud, “but since getting to know me, I like to think that you’ve had a change of heart and genuinely care about my well-being despite those factors.”

There was a moment of silence and you felt your face heat up, nervous that maybe you overestimated your importance.

Before you could look back at him, he had stood up and enclosed you in a hug. You smiled, uncrossed your arms and hugged him back.

He was humming along with the song so you made one more bold choice and started swaying in time with the rhythm. He chuckled, shifted to hold one of your hands, and properly led you in a dance around the room.

You hoped his light footsteps were a reflection of how light his heart was feeling.

All signs of the weariness from moments ago were completely gone.

#obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #my writing #anon squad

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