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marshmellowrio · 21 days

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Semblance of Control | Chapter 1

A/N: First chapter is up! I can't wait for all of you to discover my OC and what she's capable of!

Word count: 1K

Reaching the top of the stairs, the woman takes in her surroundings. She’s one of the first up on the turret, about three candidates standing in front of her now. Her eyes move to the man in front of her, he’s tall with muscles in all the right places, he definitely spent the better part of his teenage years training to be in the Rider’s Quadrant. The relic on his arm catches her attention, the swirls covering his wrist crawl up his arm, disappearing under his sleeve towards his shoulder. Her own arms are covered up by long sleeves and fingerless gloves on both of her hands.

Another candidate steps onto the Parapet and the line moves up. As the girl steps forward, she glances up again and locks eyes with one of the three riders. His dark eyes look familiar and she furrows her brows almost unnoticeably, she can’t remember where she’s seen them before. It definitely isn’t the man standing before her now, she’s sure she hasn’t seen his handsome face before. His arm also bears a relic, giving away some indication to his heritage. His dark hair blowing in the increasing wind, in her peripheral she sees the storm clouds rolling in. Here’s to hoping it doesn’t hit until after she makes her way across the Parapet.

The line moves up again, she gives a small nod to the rider she has been eyeing and steps forward, focusing on the Parapet. Only the tall blond in front of her remains, she hears him say his name to the roll keeper, “Liam Mairi.”

She doublechecks all of her weapons to make sure they’re secure enough to cross the Parapet safely, something she’s done five times since she wrote down her name at the base of the tower. Two daggers at her belt, along with a satchel with her throwing stars and another dagger strapped to her right thigh. Easily accessed by her dominant hand.

Liam steps onto the covered part of the Parapet, he doesn’t hesitate one second before he’s off.

“Name?” The roll keeper asks her as she steps up to the Parapet.

“Colette Wilder.”

The rider to her right glances to the Parapet and nods in her direction. “Off you go.” Colette closes her eyes, taking a deep breath and opens her eyes again. Then she steps into the open air of the Parapet, arms wide.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Colette steps off the Parapet, onto the courtyard, breathing heavily. Heavier than after any other workout she's done before. Parapet was scarier than she had anticipated, she’s not exactly afraid of heights but she is afraid of falling. Might not be a good personality trait for someone who just entered a quadrant where she’ll have to ride a flying dragon, miles up in the air, but it is what it is, right?

She doesn’t remember most of the Parapet because of the adrenaline taking over her senses as soon as she stepped on. Only now it was slowly ebbing away, leaving her out of breath and slightly shaky on her feet.

The redheaded rider next to her, asks for her name and Colette repeats her name for the third time today. The rider jots down her name, claiming her as alive. The rainclouds that were moving in before, finally reach the Parapet, soaking everything in rain in seconds. The rider with the scroll sighs, looking up at the sky and covering up the paper.

Colette welcomes the cold rain, cooling down her flushed skin.

“Congrats, you made it.” The other rider says without any enthusiasm. Yeah, Colette understands there’s not much to be enthusiastic about in a college surrounded by death. While also getting drenched in rain standing around waiting for candidates to pass the Parapet and join that very same college. If she survives until the end of the year, she’ll probably be right here, doing the exact same thing as him.

She gives him a small nod in acknowledgment, before moving on to lean against a wall not far from the end of the Parapet. As she approaches the wall, she recognizes the guy that went in front of her, Liam. She stands next to him, leaving an acceptable distance between the two of them.

The young woman finally gets to catch her breath again, slowly regaining some of her strength after being drained by all of the adrenaline.

“Scary right?”

Colette turns her head slightly to take in the blond next to her, looking him up and down again, seeing his face for the first time. Meeting his shiny blue eyes, she nods, “You can say that again.”

“Wait,” she shakes her head lightly, “you were already halfway across when I got on and I stepped on, like 10 seconds after you.” Her brows furrowed.

He extends his hand with a smile, “Liam.” He chooses to ignore her statement all together.

“Colette.” She takes his much bigger hand in hers, it engulfs hers almost completely.

“Nice to meet you Colette.”

She nods and lets go of his hand. “Likewise.”

Liam pushes off of the wall, “See you around.” With that he walks off further into the courtyard. Colette nods her head again, now that she’s alone it started to sink in that she belongs to the Rider’s quadrant from now on. She’s a cadet. At the mercy of her superiors. And dragons.

Suddenly a woman rushes off the Parapet, a broad man hot on her heels.

Colette lifts her head at the commotion, she raises her eyebrows and cocks her head slightly to get a better view. She sees the woman holding a dagger against the man’s breeches. Impressive.

“Violet Sorrengail.”

Colette straightens when she hears the name coming from the small woman’s lips. While the man pushes past her, Colette catches a glimpse of her face and hair. She turns to the teardrop shaped courtyard and walks away.

She’s not in the mood to get into that sort of drama on day zero of this first year in the war college.

A/N: Let me know what you think in the comments! This will be a Bodhi Durran fanfic, since I've been gravitating towards his character and the votes were pretty close together. If anyone's interested in a taglist, please comment below!

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steddieas-shegoes · 1 year

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Request: full funny prompt Steve teaching the different party members how to drive. Steve & the kids having a sibling-like relationship. Just pure fluff and siblings.

MY LOVE MY HEART!!!! I LOVED THIS!!! I didn't include any relationships in this because this one just needed to be focused on Steve being a good babysitter/big brother and the kids just loving him and each other. Also, started thinking about having to teach Liam how to drive in roughly 7 years and decided that I am going to need someone else to do it. - Mickala ❤️

-----------------------------------------------------

Lucas

“Alright, we’re just gonna take it around the block. Slow. Careful. We’re in no rush.”

Lucas tapped Steve on the shoulder.

“Uh. Steve? Are you…talking…to your car?”

Steve looked behind him and up at Lucas from where he was kneeling on the ground in front of his car, one hand on the hood.

“She’s scared.”

“O…kay.”

Steve sighed and stood up, handing his keys over to Lucas.

“Just around the block. Slow. Careful. No rush.”

“I got it when you told the car.”

“You’re the first kid to drive her with my permission. She’s been through a lot. I don’t want to put her through too much stress.”

“She is just a car, right? Not a transformer or something?”

Steve rolled his eyes and got in the passenger side door, tense set to his shoulders getting worse when Lucas sat in the driver’s seat and started the car.

Lucas started the car, put his seatbelt on, adjusted the mirrors. Everything he knew from driver’s ed and what Steve taught him in their pre-drive lesson.

Of all the kids, Steve knew Lucas was probably the one who would be most careful and listen to him without argument.

None of that changed the fact that this was his car.

Lucas put the car in reverse, slowly removed his foot from the brake, and inched his way out of Steve’s driveway.

Steve watched every single movement of the car, felt like he had eight sets of eyes rotating around the car so he could see if Lucas struggled with anything inside, if any cars came out of nowhere on the road, if there was a random pothole that opened up in the last 30 seconds.

When they were completely on the road, Lucas put the car into drive, shifting just like he was shown, his feet gliding effortlessly over the gas and clutch.

It was smooth.

Steve took a deep breath.

“You’re doing great,” he said, his shoulders relaxing slightly as Lucas maintained the speed limit of the neighborhood and followed the line in the road perfectly.

“Can we go to Max’s?”

“Nope. Just here.”

“But I’m almost already at the end of the road. I need real life practice.”

“This is real life.”

Lucas sighed, but didn’t argue further.

Steve let him drive around the block twice before he told him to pull back into the driveway.

Once they parked, Steve let out the breath he’d been unintentionally holding.

“Is it that bad? I thought I did good,” Lucas asked as he removed his seat belt.

“No, you did great. Really. Just a lot of pressure.”

“On you? For what?”

“To make sure you guys are safe. I know your dad is gonna take you out a bit, but he trusted me with this today.”

“We went, like, 10 miles an hour.”

“People have died going slower.”

Lucas was a good kid, but he couldn’t help the laugh he let out at that.

“You’re worse than my mother.”

“Look, you got the first time under your belt, right? Let me be stressed.”

“Sure, Steve.”

—----------------

Will

El was sitting in the backseat, tapping her fingers against the seat as some music played.

Hopper insisted that he teach her to drive, barely wanted to let Steve teach Will.

But Will was nervous, probably more than Steve was, so Steve let him listen to a few songs in the driveway before they got started.

“Is it normal to sit in the car for so long before driving?” El asked.

“It’s important that he feels comfortable, El. We can take as much time as he needs,” Steve replied, glancing over at Will, who somehow looked more pale and nervous than when they first got in the car.

“Maybe I should wait. It’s not like I even have a car to drive,” Will finally said a few minutes later.

Steve knew that Hopper had already planned on giving Will and El a car to share in a few months, but it was a surprise. He couldn’t ruin the surprise, but he had to get Will comfortable behind the wheel.

“I’m sure your mom will let you borrow her car sometimes. Plus it’s good to know in case of an emergency. Remember when Max nearly killed us all driving this thing? You don’t wanna be like her.”

“Also Dad got us a car,” El contributed from the back seat, immediately picking back up on humming along to the song like she didn’t just ruin the biggest surprise of the year.

“What?”

If anything, Will looked even more nervous.”

“El, that was supposed to be a surprise. How did you find out?” Steve asked exasperatedly.

“He is not very quiet when he is on the phone.”

Steve sighed.

“Alright. Well, even more reason to practice right? It’s gonna be easy! Just back out of the driveway, drive around the block, then park it again.”

Will nodded, but otherwise didn’t move.

“If you really can’t do this, we can just switch and I’ll take you back home. We can try again next week.”

“No! I can do it. I survived the Upside Down. Driving is nothing compared to that, right?”

Despite his words, his voice was shaky, like he didn’t quite believe them.

“It is very easy. I have driven many times,” El said happily from the backseat.

“What?” Steve turned all the way around in his seat. “Hopper said he wasn’t starting lessons with you until next month.”

“I did not drive with Hopper.”

“Who did you drive with?!” Steve could not think of a single adult who could be trusted to let El drive, and if Hopper found out…

“Eddie.”

Steve facepalmed.

“Do not tell your dad. He’ll throw Eddie in jail for endangering a minor.”

“That is silly!” El laughed. “I was not in danger. Eddie said he was the one in danger.”

“That sounds about right.” Steve shook his head and looked back at Will. “Okay. So at least you’re with me and not Eddie. You can do this, man.”

Will nodded and checked all his mirrors for the 12th time.

He put the car in reverse.

He slowly backed out.

A car honked from the road.

Will slammed on the brakes and put it in park.

“I’m never driving,” he said as he unbuckled and got out of the car.

“He will learn someday,” El said as she followed him out.

“I’m in hell,” Steve said out loud before joining them outside of the car.

—-----------------------

Mike

“I don’t understand why I can’t listen to music louder.”

“Because this is your first lesson and we have to be able to hear each other and other cars,” Steve sighed.

He was not looking forward to teaching Mike, had practically begged Nancy to come back from college to do it.

She said that no one could pay her enough to teach Mike how to drive.

Steve wasn’t getting paid a damn thing and here he was anyway.

God, he wished Mrs. Wheeler would have let Eddie teach him.

“It’s just your neighborhood. There’s, like, five people counting you who live here.”

“And any one of them could drive by while you’re driving so just. Focus. Please.”

Mike rolled his eyes, but surprisingly let it go. Steve knew that just meant that he would be picking a new fight soon.

It’s not that Mike was difficult, it’s that his hormones decided to hit all at once and no one knew how to handle it, least of all Mike. Steve tried not to take offense to any of his attitudes, but he was already a bit stressed from the situation, so he couldn’t be faulted for his shortness.

Mike started to reverse.

“Nope. Park. You didn’t check your mirrors first.”

“I was going to once it was in reverse!”

“You check mirrors first, then reverse while checking all mirrors again. You know that.”

“You don’t check the mirrors before you reverse.”

“This isn’t about what I do or don’t do. You have to be taught properly so you can pass the test. You would’ve had points deducted.”

Mike rolled his eyes again.

That must cause headaches or vision problems or something eventually.

Mike checked the mirrors, then reversed, continuing to check each mirror as he backed onto the road.

His foot was a bit heavy on the clutch, but Steve didn’t say anything.

His foot was also a bit heavy on the gas, but he technically wasn’t speeding, so Steve stayed quiet.

He hit the curb in the cul de sac, and Steve winced.

“Remember to check your mirrors every once in a while to make sure you don’t hit a curb or go over the lines.”

“It was an accident!”

“I know! I’m just saying!”

They ignored each other for the remainder of the drive. Luckily, Mike did fine until he put it in park in the driveway.

He unbuckled, but didn’t get out.

“You did good, Mike. Just gotta make sure you’re safe,” Steve said softly, hoping it wouldn’t start anything, walking on eggshells like he so often found himself doing around Mike.

“Yeah. Thanks.”

Steve looked over at him, noticed how tense he was, how his eyes were shiny like he was trying to hold back tears.

“You wanna come inside and have a drink?”

“Beer?”

“No, just soda,” Steve snorted. “Your mom would kill me. Nancy would kill me.”

“I’ve had beer before.”

“But I didn’t supply it.” Steve noticed he relaxed a little. “So? I got some chips too.”

“Sure. Okay.”

They didn’t chat much while they enjoyed soda and chips, but any moment not arguing or on edge with Mike was good.

It felt good.

—----------------------

Dustin

Everyone stood around the car as Dustin sat in the passenger seat. His mom had been hesitant to let him come, had said multiple times that he could wait another year.

But he repeated it wasn’t fair that everyone got to learn except him, and Steve did take his side on it this time, agreed that it was better he know how to in case there was an emergency.

Claudia Henderson was no fool, but she was unable to resist Steve’s charm.

“I don’t understand why everyone is here for this,” Steve said, watching everyone back away from the car as Dustin adjusted the mirrors.

“No one believed I could reach the pedals.”

“Can you reach the pedals? I didn’t even think about that.”

Dustin glared at him for a second before continuing to adjust everything.

“Yes, I can reach the pedals, asshole.”

“How’s it going?” Max yelled from in front of the car.

“Just fine, thanks!” Dustin yelled back.

Max technically could see, but she was definitely not able to drive, so she just got to hear the stories of everyone’s lessons.

“You sure you’re ready for this? It’s okay to wait. None of them will judge you.”

“I said I’m ready!” Dustin exploded.

Dustin rarely reacted like that with Steve.

“Dude.”

“Sorry,” Dustin sighed, his grip on the wheel tight. “I just don’t wanna mess up in front of everyone.”

“I can send them all home right now. None of them watched anyone else.”

“No, I wanna prove I can do this.”

“Alright, bud. Ready when you are.”

Dustin adjusted a bit in the seat, checked his mirrors, and put the car in reverse.

Steve could tell he was having to sit up more than the others to reach everything, but he didn’t comment on it.

It was a smooth ride until the end.

He pulled into the driveway just a little too fast, then slammed on the brakes.

Steve’s head went forward, Dustin’s head went forward, and the kids outside were yelling something.

“Alright. Just one note. Maybe take it easy on the brakes.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay. You did good, dude. Proud of you,” Steve ruffled his hair and smiled at him.

He was proud of him. He was proud of all of them.

He was still worried, and he knew they all needed way more practice before they actually took their driving tests, but they all did good.

Steve probably developed gray hairs over the next month of lessons, especially when Mike drove over a curb on the road between his house and Eddie’s.

The kids sometimes showed up for each others’ lessons, in support and to make fun of their mistakes equally, but Steve usually shut it down quickly.

And when all of them passed their driving test on their first try, Steve threw a party that they all drove themselves to.

And when Will became a bit of a passenger princess in Mike’s car, and Dustin still called Steve for rides a couple times a week, and Lucas got pulled over for going too slow, Steve smiled to himself. No amount of lessons would change who they were.

#steve harrington #stranger things #the party #fluff #eddie is mentioned but not in it #this is just wholesome #ficlet #request

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transdunbar · 5 months

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for @theoraekenapperciation Day 1: Mistletoe

It started after a pack meeting. There was some new threat to Beacon Hills, because the universe was steadfastly against giving the residents of the town a break from the supernatural, and Theo had been called in to help. Like always, he had stood in a random corner of the McCall house, trying his best to turn invisible while the McCall pack debated on what to do. Like always, Liam (and sometimes Scott, ever the peacemaker) piped up to try and loop him into the conversation, and, like always, the pack neatly looped him back out of it after he had answered. The meeting couldn’t have ended fast enough, and as soon as Scott gave the dismissal he was making a beeline for the door and ignoring Liam calling his name.

He had just closed the door of his truck, keys barely in the ignition, when someone quite literally slapped the roof of his car. He jumped, turning to find Stiles practically leaning in through the driver’s side window. His freckled face was unreadable, but Theo could smell the contempt rolling off of him, something that never completely went away whenever he was in the chimera’s presence. There was also a hint of amusement and mischief, but Theo was beginning to think that was just this baseline scent at that point.

“What do you want, Stiles?” Theo asked.

“There’s an abandoned warehouse on Sunnyside Street, about two miles past the train tracks. The deputies don’t have it on their patrol route, so if someone were to, say, park their obnoxiously large truck behind it, they wouldn’t be disturbed or brought into the station every three days for loitering,” came Stiles’ response.

It was very obviously some sort of olive branch, he could tell that much. Even so, Theo found himself frozen for a second, brain turning and twisting to try and come up with a reason why Stiles would voluntarily help him. He wasn’t as good at hiding things as he used to be, however, because Stiles took one look at his (probably very confused) face and huffed out something that resembled a laugh.

“You look like hell warmed over, dude. You’re obviously not taking care of yourself, and even someone as evil as you deserves to have several hours of uninterrupted sleep a night. It’s not gonna completely fix you, but it’s a start.”

“And you’re just telling me this out of the goodness of your heart, not because you want to know where I am at all times, right?”

“Hey, it serves a dual purpose. Now get going,” Stiles said. He thumped on the roof of Theo’s truck twice more, inspecting something that he apparently found there, before wandering off again. Theo blinked once, twice, then started his truck and peeled off down the street, the human’s weird antics all but forgotten.

--------

There was someone tapping on the glass again. Theo groaned, shaking himself out of his sleep and cursing the Stilinski name. Stiles had said that the deputies didn’t patrol this part of town, but he should have known that Stiles would have pulled something like this and had lied to get him arrested again. Maybe his goal was to kill Theo via sleep deprivation by putting him directly in the deputies’ path.

The tapping sounded again while Theo was brainstorming ways to hide Stiles’ body, and he groaned again as he sat up.

“Alright, alright, I’m—”

Theo opened his eyes, intending to placate whichever deputy had found him this time, only to be met with wide, concerned blue eyes belonging to one Liam Dunbar.

“Liam?”

“Theo, what are you doing out here?” Liam asked after Theo had rolled down the window. “Shouldn’t you be at home?”

“I know academics aren’t really your strong suit, Dunbar, but I would have thought you’d be smart enough to put two and two together,” Theo sighed, flopping back down in the seat. Liam was blessedly quiet for all of five seconds before the yelling started. Theo sighed, tuning most of it out by putting the sweatshirt he had been using as a pillow over his face. He wasn’t sure how long the werewolf went on, whining about how Theo should have told someone and how the pack would have helped, but eventually he seemed to realize Theo wasn’t listening and petered off.

“Theo? Are you even listening, dude?”

“Not really,” Theo answered.

“Why not?”

“Because you woke me up just to yell at me. Of course I’m not gonna listen to that.”

Liam huffed, and Theo didn’t have to take the sweatshirt off of his face to imagine the way he crossed his arms, or his face scrunched up in irritation in a way that Theo secretly found adorable.

“Why are you even here, Liam?” Theo asked.

“This is part of my patrol route. You would have known that if you had paid attention at the pack meeting. Now why are you here?”

“After the meeting, Stiles told me this part of town was deputy-free, so I could get a decent night’s sleep and he could know where I was sleeping in case I ever did anything evil and he needed to kill me,” Theo answered.

“... Stiles was the one who made the patrol routes,” Liam mumbled. “I wonder if—”

“Yeah, he obviously did it on purpose, Liam. Now can I please get back to sleep?”

“No way.”

Theo groaned. He sat up again, but only to reach out and attempt to roll the window back up, but Liam’s hand was faster. He grabbed Theo’s forearm, using his werewolf strength to keep Theo’s hand from reaching the buttons as he fixed Theo with a stern glare.

“I’m not letting you sleep in your truck, Theo. Come back home with me.”

“If you wanted to get me in bed, all you had to do was say so.”

Liam rolled his eyes, but Theo still caught the rising blush on his cheeks, the way his chemosignals gained just the faintest hint of arousal. If Theo were any less tired, he would have grabbed hold of that thread and elaborated on it so he could see how flustered he could make the werewolf, but as it was he just sighed and turned away.

“Hey, by the way, why do you have mistletoe taped to your car?”

“What?” In a flash, Theo had stuck his entire upper body out of the car window, twisting around so that he could see what Liam was referring to. Sure enough, someone— Theo had a sneaking suspicion as to who— had stuck a sprig of mistletoe to the roof of his car with thick, black duct tape. He was vaguely impressed that it hadn’t fallen off on his ride around town earlier trying to find the warehouse.

“I’ll bet you five dollars it was Stiles,” Theo muttered as he climbed back inside of his truck.

“Well, uh,” Liam mumbled, his face turning even redder, “you know what they say about mistletoe, right?”

“That it could kill us?”

“You’re a fucking idiot.”

Before Theo could defend his honor, Liam was leaning in, and oh. He must be really tired to have missed that.

Everything made sense the moment Liam’s lips touched his. Stiles telling him about the warehouse, the patrol routes, the mistletoe— Theo was either going to murder him for real this time or get him some sort of gift basket. Stiles had wanted this to happen, had known that Liam would run into Theo and would take the bait with the mistletoe. Theo wondered how Stiles had deduced that they had been harboring feelings for each other, since apparently neither of them figured it out without his help, but then Liam’s tongue was sliding against his lip, asking for entrance, and Theo found that he didn’t want to think about Stiles anymore as his hand came up to gently cradle the back of Liam’s neck.

“Now will you come home with me?” Liam asked when they finally broke apart.

“I might need a little more convincing.”

--------

When Theo woke up the next morning, warm and comfortable with Liam curled up half on top of his chest, he found that he had a new text on his phone, something that hadn’t happened in months.

Stiles Stilinski: im guessing the mistletoe worked, then?

Theo: you would make an excellent evil genius with a brain like that

Stiles Stilinski: you’re welcome, raeken

Stiles Stilinski: also, if you and liam start making out in front of everyone like he did with hayden, i’m ending you myself

#theo raeken #liam dunbar #thiam #stiles stilinski #teen wolf #teen wolf fanfic #theochristmasweek23 #sorry this is late :(#i'll have day two's up before the end of the day today

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yanderu-deredere · 1 year

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hey so weird question: how would your ocs react to a darling that's inexperienced or clumsy when it comes to sex? are there any of them that would prefer it that way?

a/n: thank you so much for the request! i put it under a read more cus it's explicit but i hope you enjoy! i did the top three of my ocs that would enjoy an inexperienced/clumsy darling most

warning: there's no mention of reader having a penis but there's several mentions of reader having an 'entrance' (could be an asshole?), gender neutral pronouns for reader

liam anthony arieh ★ profile

fattest corruption kink in the world

absolutely prefers a darling who doesn't know what the fuck they're doing; the more innocent and clueless, the better

he's never really put stock in the human made concept of virginity. he thinks its a bunch of crock bullshit and he's had partners before that had a body count a mile long

but goddamn theres just something about you

the way you fumble around, looking at him for guidance, for instruction? he's got him chubbing up forreal

"L-Liam."

Instead of looking up, he only chuckles, large calloused palms forcing your legs further apart. In front of him, your entrance drooled, making his mouth water and his dick hard.

"You said you wanted to be good for me, right?" He muttered, pressing his cheek against your soft thigh while one of his hands moved forward.

Gently, his middle finger teased your entrance, trying to sink into it. As an automatic response, your knee jumped in surprise. Of course, since his head was right there, your leg made contact with his glasses, almost pushing them out of place.

The way you were so nervous and panicked made him laugh. You reminded him of a jittery little doe.

Liam pressed a kiss against your thigh. Though, as his lips lingered, the kiss slowly turned into a little bite that left a noticeable hickey.

"Calm down, angel, don't worry." He tried to soothe you, his finger sinking deeper and deeper into you, the pad of it pressing against something inside of you that made you writhe.

"I'll take good good care of you."

fujio watanabe ★ profile

defo prefers an inexperienced darling but not for any other reason than he's a possessive bastard lol

basically, he wants to teach you how to make him feel good from the ground up

the thought of his darling not knowing how to fuck anyone else but him? the thought of his darling, completely at his beck and call, following his orders and only his orders?

makes im mad hard for sure

also it makes you easier to manipulate in a way? he wants to teach you thinks most people find kinky and have you believe that it's normal basically

"Oh, that's it, baby." Fujio threw his head back, his hand twitching at the nape of your neck.

All he wanted to do was fuck into your mouth; he wanted to grab you, push you into his groin, bury your face into his pelvis, have his cock hit the back of your throat.

He stopped himself, of course. It's the first blow job you've ever given and he wasn't going to throw you into the deep end.

It was so obvious it was your first time too. He could feel your teeth brushing against the skin of his dick and the way you kept gagging and desperately swallowing was obviously amateur.

He wasn't complaining though. The way you looked up at him, lips stretched around his thick girth, tears clinging to your eyelashes, your hair pulled back by his fist.

It was enough to seriously make him bust. You were going to be the literaly death of him.

eun-jeong yoo ★ profile

definitely the caregiver type; he likes taking care of and guiding people

he doesn't prefer an inexperienced darling but he definitely would be one of the people that would enjoy it the most

he's very switchy in that like he can be a dom or a sub but when paired with a darling that doesn't really know what they're doing, he's full dom all the time

he's not at all a hard dom either

literally super soft and gentle, moving your hands where they need to go, showing you exactly how to make both you and him feel good, etc

usually, he's not really a very straight forward person but with a darling like this, he doesn't want to beat around the bush so he's very frank

Eun-jeong felt your fingers slowly, hesitantly, close around his cock, your big curious eyes peering up at him through your eyelashes.

He wanted to throw his head back, wanted to buck his hips up, wanted to groan and cum right then and there; he couldn't find it in himself to, though.

You mesmerised him and he couldn't look away. You looked so soft, so innocent, waiting for his words, hanging on to his every instruction.

"Just grip it a bit tighter, puppy." His gloved hand brushes against your wrist, not really holding it but definitely pushing it closer.

When your fist did tense up a bit, a low groan left Eun-jeong's lips. He couldn't stop himself from lifting up a bit, cock thrusting up and down before stopping completely.

You were holding him a bit too tightly but, for some reason (maybe it was how you looked or the fact that it was you), it made him want to shoot his load.

"That's it, puppy." He slurred out when he decided against telling you to lighten up "Just like that, move it up and down like that."

You nod, your big pretty eyes flickering from his cock to his face, back and forth. You seemed just as enraptured by him as he was by you which, honestly, had his heart fluttering.

"Just a little bit more and th-then I'll-- I'll let you cum, okay? I'll show you how to make yourself feel good, I promise..."

#Anonymous #yandere oc x reader #yandere x reader #yandere #male yandere #oc x reader #male oc #liam #fujio #eunjeong #lemony content #bulleted #drabbles

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daybreak-mun · 1 year

Text

Belated Christmas Presents

... because I have the time management skills of a potato.

Featuring:

Laivan from @asksavel I know I’m coming in at the tail end of the story, but what I see, I honestly really like. Looking forward to seeing more of it pop up on my dash!

Rai from @miles-of-muses Honestly, roleplaying with you is always pretty fun, even if we don’t really do it as often these days. Your worlds are all pretty interesting to read through.

Neo-Ka from @pokege-ne-project It’s been a while since I’ve seen these characters in action and I’m excited to see what you have planned for them. You’ve been a great friend over the years, and I really appreciate that. Thanks, Liam.

Cipher from @themeowsticvigilante I didn’t see your post about your ruptured appendix until I started this project, but I’m hoping everything goes well! Even though we don’t interact much, I enjoy your characters. The world needs more Meowstics.

Snow from @ask-a-learning-ai The interactions with Snow I read are pretty good, and while I’ve kind of been in and out of a slump, I’d be down for having our characters interact more in the future. I can definitely see Cherry and Snow being friends.

Mukudori from @ask-a-staravia It’s pretty interesting to see a take on Legends Arceus that manages to spin it into a different world, but still similar enough to be recognized. Looking forward to seeing more stuff from you in the future.

Shiso from @shaymincafe You've been a pretty great friend in the few years I've known you, and I always enjoy having our characters interact. I'd be down for hanging out with you and Peaches in FFXIV once I actually catch up.

Kuno + Cucumber from @teamnextgen I haven't really known you for very long, nor have I really interacted much with you. You seem like a pretty good person, and I'd be down for hanging out at some point.

Luxu from @asktheisle I haven't really read your blog, but I enjoy your character designs and general art style. I've heard quite a few good things, so I decided to put this together.

Joule from @dailyashleighraichu Your art is simultaneously a source of serotonin, and pain. I see a bit of my past self in Joule with how she was treated by random people. For me, it didn't really get to that level, but I can empathize with her in some small way.

Elliot from @ask-elliotgang Admittedly, I haven't been able to go back and read through your blog yet, but I can tell there's a lot of work put into this. Figured it'd be a neat idea for Joule and Elliot's cards to be two halves of a larger card here.

Luca from @sphaeramjourney I swear I kept thinking your url is "seraphimjourney", but that's more on me. Your art is always really good and I love the effects in your pages. As with many things in the community, I'm late reading, but I'm liking what I'm seeing so far.

Anyway, Happy New Year everyone!! Here's hoping 2023 sucks less!

Also if any of these blogs would like the full size images, I can DM them on request.

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the-invisible-queer · 21 days

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I feel like this is gonna make me sound both like a know-it-all nitpicking you and an insane weirdo who was way too invested in the relationship of two teenagers I don't know but. As someone who literally hyperfixated on both Nick and Miley for basically all of my formative years, and as a result just permanently has an encyclopedia's worth of useless information about their teenage selves stored in my brain even though both fixations died off years ago and I barely pay attention to either of them now, some parts of your post about them are simply killing me and I HAVE to correct and expand on it or I'll explode lol, I'm sorry it's nothing personal:

Kevin misspoke in the doc; the Hannah Montana episode wasn't when they met, they were already dating by then. They met at a charity event on June 11, 2006 according to Miley's book, with Nick also eventually calling June 11 their anniversary in Wedding Bells. IIRC Miley said in the book that Hannah Montana had only been airing for a few months when they met and the boys hadn't really done much of anything with Disney yet, which would definitely indicate emotions happening before any publicity did.

(There's also a very funny/interesting/wtf piece of lore re: this date from yearrrrrs later where Miley either mixed up the dates herself or tried to retcon her own life and gaslight everyone about public information by claiming on Twitter that June 11 was her anniversary with Liam, then deleted it, then announced her divorce very shortly after. That's not really directly related to anything we're discussing here but it was such a bizarre thing to watch happen in real time that it almost dragged me back into the fixation again as a grown ass adult, so I felt compelled to bring it up anyway lmao.)

A LOT of the og Niley Lore came from Miles to Go, where Miley dedicated an entire chapter to Nick (called "Prince Charming" in the book) and their relationship. I don't remember every detail anymore but she definitely said they clicked instantly, became boyfriend and girlfriend the day they met, and stayed up talking on the phone until like 4 a.m. that night, all of which backs up what Kevin said about love at first sight. She also explicitly said in the book that they truly loved each other and had a serious relationship despite how young they were.

A lotttttt of JB songs, especially but not exclusively the ones from the mid-to-late 2000s, are thought to be about Miley and some are very obvious if you know The Lore, but the only ones I know were ever explicitly confirmed besides the ones you mentioned are Sorry, Can't Have You and, of course, Before the Storm. The "hugs are overrated" part of SOS is sometimes thought to be a reference to the day they met, where according to Miley's book he tried to shake her hand and she told him she only did hugs, but I've always assumed that was probably just a coincidence since it seems like logistically it must have been written before they broke up and that would be a weirdly snarky line to write about your current girlfriend. Burnin' Up is also very very heavily thought to have been inspired by Miley, specifically by her look at the 2007 AMAs, which you can Google if you're interested enough; I do believe this one, which makes Selena's appearance in that specific music video much, much funnier.

Essentially all of Miley's earlier Miley songs (as opposed to Hannah ones) are also either confirmed or commonly thought to be about Nick. Also possibly of note is that some of Demi's early songs are also rumored to have a lot of Miley inspiration in them due to Nick co-writing them, which is simply amusing to me, especially considering the chances that at least one song probably ended up being partially about Nick's ex and partially about his brother. I never fixated on Demi or her music as hard as I did on these two though, so I no longer remember which specific songs were implicated here.

Nick confirmed Wedding Bells in his 'answering Google's most searched questions' video, where you could tell even he was thinking "who tf else did y'all think that one could have been about" lmao.

The messy little ping pong game Nick played between Miley and Selena for a while was definitely confirmed; I don't remember if any of them ever explicitly acknowledged it (outside of lyrics like "you love me, you like her" from 7 Things which...damn girl scalp him again), but to me and the other hyperfixated kids following along at the time, the dates alone made it obvious lol. He first got with Selena after the first time he and Miley broke up and then repeated that exact pattern at least two more times over the next few years, rarely being single for any significant length of time at all in between. Baby fuckboi behavior.

In conclusion, both of them have been pretty clear and consistent over the years that the emotions of it all came first and were very real, even if Disney may have capitalized on those emotions for publicity purposes. My specific examples are fuzzy since the fixations were dead by then but I know both of them have described the other as their first love and first heartbreak well into adulthood, including as recently as I think last year for Miley (where she revealed that the first time they broke up she asked if she could give him a hug goodbye and he said no, which is lowkey hilarious even though it makes baby Nick sound like a douche - although knowing his sensitive ass he was probably just afraid he'd start sobbing or something if she hugged him lol).

The only non-Niley piece of input I have to add is that in recent years Miley has definitely expressed negative and complicated emotions about starting her career so young, not in the sense that she didn't actually want it at the time but in the sense that like...children often want to do things that wouldn't be good for them or that they aren't capable of fully understanding the ramifications of, but that doesn't mean their parents should allow them to do those things or that they'll appreciate having been allowed to do those things when they look back as an adult. I don't know a ton about her feelings on it since again, I don't actively follow her anymore and only really see what comes across my feed, but it seems like it was definitely much more complicated than "her dad sold her to Disney Channel" or "she wasn't forced into it so it was fine." For the record I've often wondered if any of the Jonas boys have similar emotions about their young stardom, as most child stars seem to to some degree, but honestly feel like if they do we'll never ever hear about it; they just don't give me the vibe that they'd ever be comfortable talking about that publicly, especially if it involves any complex feelings towards their parents, who they seem to have much closer and healthier relationships with than Miley has with hers.

OKAY I'M DONE sorry that was a whole novel you didn't ask for but I literally have had all these stupid factoids about these two strangers just bouncing around in my head for like almost twenty years and almost never get the chance to put this wealth of knowledge to "use" anywhere, so on the rare occasions I can vomit all this up I kind of get carried away lmao whoops

BESTIE NEVER APOLOGIZE! Especially not when it comes to rambling about fixations. My blog is a safe space!

Though I wish you could add cuts in asks because RIP to everyone's dash I'll try to add tags so people with long posts blocked can ignore.

I'll be the first one to admit my fuck up with Jonas lore. Deadass don't remember anything Miley wrote in her book about Nick and I read Miles to Go twice but I have the memory of a twig.

I can't even remember what I was doing 5min ago - no joke.

Also my timeliness are SO fucking hazy - it's the trauma - because I'm learning shit I thought happened with JB in 2011 happened in 2009.

I am not the most reliable source.

Also I didn't care about Nick much back then. That's from when he was my least favorite (derogatory).

Thank you for illuminating us on the subject! I actually did learn a lot from that.

#long post #long text post #text post #long text

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bebepac · 2 years

Text

Sincerely, Lady Liberty

This is @choicesficwriterscreations week 2 Please be Prompt challenge for angst: The quote for angst: Was it ever me? will appear in bold.

This is also: @choicesmonthlychallenge july prompt for the 29th for mutual pining

The Series: The Rotten Apple 🍎 The Book: TRH & Beyond The Pairings: Liam x Riley / Eleanor x Nico (Eleanor x M!OC) Ratings & Warnings: Teen: Mention of character death, mention of mental illness, profanity, anger, grief. Word Count: 4943 Summary: Nico loses Ana in the park, and a veiled woman introduces herself to Ana. Liberty intervenes in multiple lives in attempt to make them healthier.

Original post: 07/27/22 at 6:20PM EST

A/N: You might not like or agree with where I plan to take this story from here on out to the end. Heck I’ve had people tell me they didn’t like where it started. I told myself if this chapter went over 5000 words I would be splitting it into two chapters, and there would be two more chapters left of The Rotten Apple, and look where I landed. I’ve had a lot of surprises along the way in this story and took it places I never intended, but overall, I am really content with this story. I know that this storyline is not for everyone, but I am very happy with the story I have presented to this point. And for the people who enjoy this storyline, thank you for going on this journey with me. There is officially one more chapter left after this one, possibly two if I decide on an epilogue. But here we go.

"Papa look!!!"

Nico gazed up from his book to Ana as she stood at the top of the slide ready to go down, Ana smiled and waved at him.

Nico waved back and proudly cheered for fearless Ana as she giggled as she went down the swirly slide at the park. She jumped up enthusiastically and she broke out into a little run heading for the ladder to climb up the playhouse again for round two.

Nico returned to his book however, it was only for a moment, just long enough for Ana to climb back up the slide’s ladder. He glanced up again at the slide, expecting Ana to be at the top, but it wasn’t her, another child was in her place.

Ana must be next, he thought to himself, but instead another child emerged at the top of the playhouse.

Nico abandoned his book, trotting over to the playhouse peering in. Ana was not in the play-pen or on the ladder. The slow realization that something was not right, began to take hold.

“Ana?”

He did a quick scan of the playground not seeing her. Nico tried to stay calm as he called out her name again.

“Ana answer me!” he yelled, the panic starting to creep into his voice.

People were beginning to look at him; he was starting to get the attention of other parents in the park.

Relax, he reassured himself. She couldn’t have gone far. Ana wasn’t the type to wander away from him, but he briskly walked over to the restroom, a woman with a child was coming out. Ana always knew to ask if she needed to go to the bathroom, but it was a lead worth checking.Nico quickly pulled out his phone, showing Ana's picture.

“Did you see my daughter in there? Please can you check and see if she's inside?”

The woman paused to look at the picture of Ana. He knew what the woman was going to say before she even said it, her eyes looked sad and sympathetic, as before she even spoke she pulled her own daughter closer to her.

“No, she’s not. We were the only ones in there, I’m sorry, but I haven’t seen her.”

Nico completely lost his cool, as he began to frantically scream her name. What if he lost her? What if… something worse had happened, someone had taken her? Elle’s words from years ago rang in his ears.

“Because of who she is, makes her a target, because of who they think I am.”

God! What if someone took her because she’s Elle’s daughter?!?!? He had done his best to shield her from the limelight, and he hadn’t noticed people lurking around them in quite some time. Nico’s brain was running a mile a minute. His normally calm demeanor he had when he was a guard, completely disappeared and all he was in that moment was a frightened parent.

“ANA!!!!!”

He sprinted the length of the park, fear gripping his heart, making it hard for him to breathe, his eyes expertly skimming the perimeter, looking for a child with Ana’s features, when he finally caught sight of her standing outside the gate talking to a woman who was kneeling in front of her. Nico athletically traversed the fence with ease and barrelled toward Ana’s direction, at full speed. The woman kneeling was wearing a veil that covered her face and was handing Ana ice cream.

“Get the hell away from my daughter!”

Nico screamed, snatching Ana away from the woman, violently pushing the woman backwards, holding Ana tight and protectively in his arms, the ice cream falling between them.

He realized his mistake as soon as it happened.

"Shit."

When the woman toppled backwards to the ground, he noticed the split second all of them mobilized at once. The Kingsguard descended on their position. He immediately shielded Ana's eyes from the guard that had pulled a gun on him. He knew exactly who he had just hit.

"Hands off the Queen, commoner."

Queen Riley removed her veil.

"Your Majesty, my apologies."

He immediately helped her up. “Queen Riley I apologize, I didn’t realize it was you. I was thinking the absolute worst.”

“That happens when you’re a parent. I guess I could have handled things better. I should have spoken to you first. I just wanted a few moments alone with her.”

“Ana, are you alright?”

“Papa, I’m fine. She wasn’t going to hurt me. I know. She showed me pictures of Mommy. Mommy was a real princess, like in your story?”

“Yes, she was.”

“So the dragon is real?”

“We’ll talk about this later Ana…. Why are you here Queen Riley?”

“You’re looking at me Nico… the way my daughter looked at me. She hated me.”

“I don’t think she wanted to Queen Riley, but that’s what she felt from you, so she gave it back.”

“And you?”

He embraced Ana tighter. “Elle was very specific when it came to you, Queen Riley. She didn’t want Ana to be treated how she felt she was treated by you, and frankly neither do I. So I ask you again, why are you here?”

Tears filled Queen Riley's eyes.

“I don’t know…. I just wanted to see her, I guess. All the pictures I've seen of Ana, that Liam showed me, reminded me of my Ellie. She looks just like she did at that age. She has very happy eyes.”

“Ana has her mother’s eyes, Queen Riley.”

“I wanted to bring Ana a gift. Most little girls want to be a princess.”

She opened the small box. “It’s Ellie’s first tiara. I thought Ana might like to have it.”

Ana wriggled out of Nico’s grasp, standing in front of Queen Riley.

“Is that really for me?”

Riley smiled down at Ana.

“Yes, it’s for you. Do you like it?”

"I love it. Papa, I'm a princess too!"

“No, let me.” Riley kneeled down, and placed the sparkling tiara onto Ana’s head, gently stroking the child’s locks carefully in place over her shoulders. “Now you’ve been crowned by a real Queen."

Queen Riley was making it so difficult for Nico to refuse her.

“Yes you are, but Queen Riley it’s too much, I can't let her keep that! Those are real stones.”

“Let her have it? I’d rather her wear it, than just sit in a case in our jewelry room. You’ll take extra special care of it right Ana?”

“I will! I promise!!! Papa? Can I keep it?”

He couldn’t say no to her, she had him wrapped around her finger.

“What do we say Ana?”

“Thank you Queen Riley.” Before he could stop her, Ana threw her arms around Riley hugging her middle.

Riley’s body went rigid, her fists were clenched for a moment, her eyes closed.

“Ana….” Nico started.

Riley unclinched her fists, and slowly returned Ana’s embrace.

“Ana let her go.”

Ana pulled away from Riley. “Papa, it’s so pretty.”

“You’re even more beautiful.”

“You think I’m a terrible human being don’t you Nico?”

“It doesn’t matter what I think.”

“I want you to tell me.”

“I think…. you endured something horrible, and you’re still angry about it, but your anger has been misdirected for all of these years. Elle didn’t deserve it, and you ruined your relationship with her because of it, and you broke a part of her. I saw Elle cry once because of it, insisting she didn't care about you, as tears streamed down her face. You did that to her. So yes, Queen Riley, I think you are a terrible human being, and I won't let you treat my daughter the way you treated your own flesh and blood because I promised Elle, I would protect our child. She deserves better from you, and so did Elle.”

Queen Riley nodded.

“You were brutally honest with me…. But I asked you for that. Ellie was fortunate to have you in her life then. It appears you truly cared for her.”

“I did, with all my heart, regardless of what people think of me.”

"You mean do. You still do Nico. You wouldn't be so defensive over her still, if you felt nothing for my daughter."

That evening when Nico was helping Ana get ready for bed, he decided to bring up today’s events.

“Ana, we need to talk about today.”

“The story is true, isn't it Papa?”

“It is.”

“You were Mommy’s guard.”

“Yes, I was for a little bit.”

“And the dragon?”

“Not an actual dragon.” He thought for a moment to try to explain Elle’s condition in a way that Ana would understand. “You know how you have a bad dream, and you wake up, and you’re afraid, but I’m here and I remind you that it was only a dream and what you thought happened didn’t?"

Ana nodded her head.

“Mommy can’t always tell what's real or not, and sometimes she sees people or hears voices that aren’t really there.”

“How do you get better?”

“Sometimes you don’t. But Mommy’s trying really hard. They give her medicine that helps.”

“She can do it. I want her to come home.”

“I know you do. But just know, I will always be here for you.”

Nico pulled Ana into a hug and kissed her forehead, then left the room, before his eyes filled with tears. Something about having a daughter had really changed him. He had become so much more sensitive over the years, caring for Ana.

Ana still had a void in her heart, even though he felt he was a good parent to her, Ana still wanted her Mother, she still needed her mother. She needed Elle.

Elle

“You have a visitor.”

“I only have visitors on my birthday. It’s not my birthday.”

“Do you want me to turn her away?”

“No… I’ll go.” Eleanor wondered who it was, who she was that was coming to visit her. Whomever it was provided a happy break from Ellie's usual routine.

She couldn’t contain her surprise when she walked into the room.

“Libby!” She exclaimed.

“Hi Ellie."

“How did you get here?”

“I drove.”

“Wow! Look at you!!!! You look so grown up.”

“I kind of am. It’s been almost seven years. How are you Ellie?”

“I’m okay. This place is kind of like the palace in a way, people are always watching every move you make, and I can’t leave unattended. The food’s better at the palace than here though.”

Libby smiled.

“Yes, that was a horrible attempt at a joke. I know.”

“How are you really Ellie?”

Ellie's smile slowly faded.

“The truth….Do I still have the feelings and hear the voices that landed me here?” Yes, but it’s dull. They are constantly adjusting my medication so I keep them muted."

"What has it been like being here? Or is this something you don't feel comfortable answering?"

"I can answer. It's been one of the hardest things I have ever done. There are times when I have been in complete war with myself and.. my inner demons. When I came back after Ana left with Nico it was a very tough time for me. I chose to be heavily medicated, because I couldn't deal with losing her. I thought being numb to the hurt was easier than facing it head on, and I couldn't face it. I walked around in a daze here for months. I don't know how, but somehow I just emotionally knew it was her first birthday."

Her eyes met Liberty's. "Do you want to know more?"

“Only if you feel comfortable.”

"I almost forgot my baby's first birthday, I missed her so much, I thought it was easier to block the pain.

She celebrated without me. Her mother, who loves her and wanted to be there for her. I should be there for her. And I wasn't. After her first birthday, they wanted to try to wean me down off of some of the medications I was on, to see if I could handle it. At first it was so overwhelming because it felt like all the senses I had dulled by massive amounts of medication were immediately heightened. Things got so difficult, almost manic. They thought it was best to increase my medication again, but not as high as it was, but then they brought me back down even slower again. When the emotional dust settled and the haziness cleared I tried to do little things for myself. I read a lot, and I continue to study Greek. I don’t know why.”

“Did you get my letters?”

“Yes, Libby I did.”

“Why didn’t you write me back? Were you mad at me? I never told, like I promised. I kept your secret.”

“I did write you back, every letter I got, until they stopped.”

“They stopped, because I never heard from you, and thought you didn’t care about me.”

“I care about you Libby, even though I haven’t been the greatest at showing it.”

Ellie reached across the table to touch her sister’s hand.

“It had to be Mother. Father wouldn’t have kept my letters from you. At least, I don’t think he would. That doesn’t seem like him.”

“Father’s changed since you left. He doesn't say it but he looks so sad. He misses you so much.”

“I messed up so many things, Libby.”

“Ana was not a mistake. She looks just like you Ellie.”

“She does?”

“I wish I had a picture of her, so you could see. Nico is a great father to her.”

“I knew he would be.”

“I promise I will hug her for you the next time I get to see her. I asked Father to go to Greece with him the next time he goes to see her."

"Father is still a part of her life?" Ellie's eyes filled with tears.

“He never told you?”

"No. I think when he visits he takes his cues from me. Even though I want to know, I don’t ask, so he respects that and doesn’t share. It hurts thinking about her on most days. So I try not to.”

“Every several months he goes to Greece to see her. Nico's never brought her to the palace, but I understand why. He is trying to protect her, and you Ellie. So people don't ask questions."

“I wanted her. I wanted to be her mother, Libby. I wanted them both. I wanted to feel… something different.”

“I know. You wanted to feel love. I could tell you loved him. That you still love him.

Nico is still single, I heard.”

“He doesn’t love me anymore.

The last time I saw him, Ana was a little over three months old. And he took her away, and he never looked back. He just left me there alone.”

“I don’t think that’s completely true Ellie. He loves your daughter so much, and she’s part of you; that means something. Have you tried to write to him?"

"And say what? I am sorry for what I did?"

"Is it the truth?"

"YES! I was wrong to hurt Nicolai. Nic was a good person."

"Then tell Nico that. Tell him you were sick and weren't thinking clearly. I think it would mean a lot to him if you told him you were genuinely sorry."

"Not after all these years."

"You should reach out to him."

"I can't Libby. He doesn't want to hear from me. He's made that painstakingly clear."

"I think you're wrong Ellie."

And now Liberty was going to prove it.

Nico, Ana and Liberty

Libby knocked on the door.

She couldn’t believe she had done this. But she wanted to help Ellie with something she didn't have the courage to do.

She heard giggles and then the front door opened. She was staring face to face with Ellie’s daughter Ana.

“Hi Ana.”

“Hi.”

Nico came running to the door.

“Ana! I told you about just opening the door, and not checking who it is first.”

“I’m sorry Papa.”

He scooped Ana up into his arms.

“Liberty! What are you doing here?”

Ana whispered something in his ear in Greek. Liberty only knew a little bit of Greek. To which he whispered back to her.

“Can I tell her, it’s not polite for us whispering in another language in front of her.”

Ana nodded.

“Ana wanted to know why you look like her mother. And I told her you were her mommy’s sister.”

Liberty smiled.

“I am your mother’s younger sister. The last time I saw you, you were very little. But I want to change that. May I come in?”

“Please come in.”

“This is a nice home you have here Nico.”

“Thank you. I wanted to refuse, but your father gives us a stipend for Ana’s care, and to have a decent lifestyle. Though, deep down, I feel like it’s partially for my silence because I never pressed charges against Elle."

Nicolai’s death to that day had still been ruled an accident. The evidence simply just went away, maybe King Liam had something to do with that, maybe he didn’t. Nico never heard from the detective again.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“How does she know about Ellie, and what she looks like?”

“Because I told her she has a mother, that her mother is sick. She’s seen pictures of her.”

He walked over to the mantle and brought the framed picture over to her.

“That was the last Christmas I spent with Elle, when she came here to Greece with me for the holiday. I saw a side of Elle while she was here, that I don’t think many people saw of her.”

Ellie was wearing the pink dress that Nico had bought for her. Nico next to her, in a nice navy suit, his arm draped around her, his fingertips resting comfortably on her hip. The two looked very happy together. Ellie looked so content standing by his side. Ellie’s smile in the picture was incandescent as she gazed towards the camera.

“I am in this picture too.” Ana announced proudly.

“You are?” Libby inquired. "But I don't see you."

She pointed to the picture. “I was in Mommy’s tummy. She’s sick, but she’s coming home when she gets better.”

Libby's eyes widened as she looked at Nico.

"From the mouths of babes." Nico responded. He gave her a little kiss on her cheek, “Ana, go play.”

Once Ana was out of earshot Nico softened his voice.

“I don’t have the heart to tell her Elle’s never coming home.”

“Who’s to say she can’t? I went to see Ellie at the hospital."

“You did? How is she?”

“She looks like she’s aged so much being away. She has streaks of gray in her hair.”

“Well she’s not the only one with some gray now.” Nico softly laughed, running his fingers through his own hair.

“She tried to crack bad jokes too. She still loves you Nico. You know she loved you. The two of you meant everything to her. I think that’s what caused her psychotic break, losing the two of you. Nico, she has given up. And I think she would fight harder to get well, if she knew she had the two of you waiting for her.”

“Liberty, she killed my son.”

“And she regrets that, and she wasn’t well when she did it. But you still love her. If you didn’t love her, you wouldn’t have pictures of her around to show Ana. And you sure as hell wouldn’t tell Ana about her. You would have poisoned Ana against her mother, but you didn’t do that. You still love Ellie right?”

Nico wiped the tears from his eyes.

“Go see her. Tell her. Get her out of that horrible place. So she can come home like Ana believes she will.

That sweet little girl deserves her mother, who loves her. Ellie wants to be her mother.”

"Elle doesn’t want me.”

Liberty laughed.

“The two of you are so insistent that the other doesn’t feel the way they feel, and you’re not asking the one person that could really give you that answer. Stop wasting time Nico. Go to her.”

“Elle asked me for one thing the whole time we were together. Just one thing.”

"What was that?"

"A house. This is the house she wanted. I still built it for her."

"Because you love her. She still loves you too. Please go see her Nico, and bring her home."

"Did she say it Libby?" Nico inquired.

"She didn't have to. Her actions spoke louder than her words. Just like your actions. I understand how the two of you fell in love. You are two halves of the same soul. Go see her Nico."

Liberty smiled to herself. She hadn't planted the seeds in both their hearts, she was simply the florist that gave the seeds a little water and fertilizer and sunshine hoping their love would rebloom.

Nico and Elle

Nico found the courage a little over a month later to make the trip to Portavira to see Elle face to face. He decided it was best not to take Ana with him as he did not know how Elle would react, and honestly, he didn't want Ana's first meeting with Elle in a place where Elle couldn't leave.

It had been years since Nico wore a suit but he decided to wear one that day. He shaved and had gotten a haircut.

He waited for Elle to be brought into the room pacing nervously.

“I thought I would never see you again.”

His back was to her, she saw his whole body stiffen and turned around to face her.

“Elle.. Eleanor.” Nico cleared his throat.

“You can still call me Elle if you want. I didn’t know it was going to be you that was my visitor.”

He watched her try to smooth down the flyaways of her hair. Her hair was inches longer than he remembered it, and had streaks of gray throughout it, as Liberty had mentioned. Her hair was in one long thick grecian side braid, lazily slung over her left shoulder. Elle was not quite as thin as she used to be, but still had her hourglass figure. His eyes traveled slowly down her form. Elle was as beautiful as he remembered, even more so, casually dressed. Elle tried to straighten out the tiny wrinkles of the simple pale azure dress she was wearing; She looked insecure.

“I must look…..”

Nico immediately shook his head.

“No, you look fine. You look well. You're beautiful Elle. You've always been beautiful."

A slight flush of pink blossomed on her cheeks.

"Thank you. You're wearing the suit from our Christmas trip."

"It's just a little tighter than I remember." Nico smiled as he patted his stomach; Elle returned the smile.

"It still looks nice on you. At least I think it does. You look handsome."

"Thank you."

Her cheeks felt as if they were on fire because his smile still made her weak. Six and a half years had passed since they barely said good bye and he whisked Ana away. No, she actually felt dizzy as he walked towards her.

Nico immediately sprang into action. He still had his cat-like reflexes from being a guard and had caught her in his arms. Her head fell into his shoulder, and she took a moment to just breathe him in. He was wearing the same cologne she loved. Nico smelled exactly the same as she remembered. She rested her head on his shoulder a moment.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm sorry, the medication makes me feel lightheaded sometimes."

He helped steady her on her feet, leading her to the seat, his grip tight around her supporting some of her weight.

Once he assisted her to sit, he sat across from her.

"Is that better?"

"Yes, thank you, Nico……Why are you here to see me?”

"I don't know." Nico's voice was soft and he sounded unsure of himself.

"Not that I'm complaining. I'm not. It's really good to see you."

“I am not being truthful, Liberty came to see me.”

"She did? I’ve seen her recently too. She told me she believes in us."

"She believes in us?"

"That we can fix ourselves and be happy together, that we still…. Have feelings for each other."

Elle's cheeks turned bright pink, recounting Liberty's words.

"When Ana saw her, she thought she looked like you."

"I didn't think you would tell her about me…. What did you say? How does she know what I look like?"

"I have that picture of us from Christmas up so she will know where her features come from, what her mother looks like, what you look like Elle. There is nothing about her that is me Elle, she's a miniature version of you. She's quiet at first, and when you crack her shell, she's kind, funny, and boisterous. She’s a little bit bossy, like you, but I don’t mind, and she's so intelligent that she makes me feel dumb sometimes."

"Is she good?"

Nico's face softened as he stared at her. He knew what she was really asking.

"She's good Elle."

"Are you sure?"

Elle's eyes filled with tears.

"Yes, I'm sure. I keep a very close watch over her."

One of Elle's prayers has been answered.

"Then she is like you, Nico, and she has your smile. I remember. Does she still have it?"

Nico took out his phone showing Elle pictures of Ana.

"She's so beautiful. Look at her. She's perfect. She still has your smile. What did you tell her about me?"

"I told her that Mommy was sick, and that's why she couldn't be with her. I didn't want her to think that you didn't love her. Because, I saw how you looked when you held her when she was born Elle, and how we took care of her together those months after. It killed me taking her away from you the way I did. I know that you love her."

"I do, but you didn't look back, Nico."

"Because I couldn't, because it hurt so much."

"You broke my heart, Nico."

"You broke mine, when you killed my son."

"I'm sorry. I really am, I regret it every day."

Nico burst into tears. "I believe you."

Both were silent for a few moments. It was now or never in Nico's eyes. Liberty had brought the two together again, it was time for him to take a leap of faith.

"You need to get better, Elle. Our daughter needs you. She wants you to come home."

"Home?"

"Yes home, to our home."

"But, do you want me there? You really want me there?"

Nico looked down at his feet for a moment.

"You know Liberty has wisdom beyond her years. She saw it when I talked about you. Fight for us Elle. Get better so you can come home to us. PLEASE! We need you."

She shook her head no.

“This isn’t real, I’m dreaming. This isn’t happening right now. I’m going to wake up any moment now.”

“Elle, I'm here right now. With you.” He touched her arm and she smacked it away, standing up laughing in his face.

“You’re good. Showing up as him to say everything I have always wanted him to say to me. I can see right through you. You’re not going to fool me!!!!”

“Elle, it’s me.” Nico insisted.

“You’re playing games with me thinking I’ll fall for it. SHOW YOURSELF!!! YOU’RE NOT HIM!!!!! You’re not going to get me!!!! You’re pathetic! How dare you?!?! I don’t love you!!! I don’t want you!!!! LEAVE ME ALONE!!!”

Her words seemed to physically push him back from her. There were tears in his eyes.

“Was it ever me?”

“What?”

“Was it ever me that you truly wanted Elle?”

“Of course I wanted Nico.

But things like this don’t happen for people like me.”

“Liberty was right about you Elle. You gave up. And you feel like you have to convince yourself that I’m not really here right now putting it all out here on the line for you. Why don’t you believe me Elle?”

“BECAUSE I DON’T DESERVE IT!!!! I’M A BAD PERSON!!!!! The things I’ve done, the people I’ve hurt. I don’t deserve to have what I want.”

Elle burst into tears, Nico inched closer to her, pulling her into his arms. Elle didn’t fight him.

“What I see is a person, who made some really bad choices, and clearly has remorse for them, and is living in a place of guilt isolating herself from people that truly care about her. I care for you Elle. I never stopped, which is why I ran, because I was so conflicted. Those words you told me that last night we were together, that I said back to you, I meant every word."

“It’s really you Nico?”

“Yes. It’s me!”

Her prayers had finally been answered.

"Fight for us Elle. We're waiting for you. We've always been waiting for you. Please come home to us."

"You really mean that? Are you sure?"

"Yes, your home is with me and our daughter Elle. We want you to come home. We’re waiting patiently for you Elle."

Nico embraced her again. “It’s alright Elle. I’m here for you. I’ve always been. And that’s sort of your fault.”

“My fault?”

He smiled at her, his fingers, gently lifting the necklace she was wearing from under the neckline of the dress. Elle was wearing the heart necklace Nico had given her that Christmas so many years ago.

“I told you that you had my heart, but you never gave it back to me.”

After Nico left Elle requested an emergency appointment with her therapist.

“I’m ready Doctor Stanley.”

Dr. Stanley smiled.

“This is the Eleanor that I’ve been waiting for to finally show up all this time. Let’s get to work.”

Before Doctor Stanley could prompt Elle with a question, Elle began to speak.

#bebepac writes #the rotten apple 🍎#choices fanfiction #choices fic writers creations #please be prompt #choicesmonthlychallenge #elle x nico #evil ellie rys #evil drake #Queen of cordonia #liam x riley

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dcbbw · 2 years

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Deja Vu (#Please be Prompt event)

This out-of-nowhere fic was born of a TikTok video of all things. It isn’t even a good video, but it sparked an idea (you know where that went), and here we are. This will also be my submission for the @choicesficwriterscreations #please be prompt event.

I will be using the following prompts: I’ve seen that smile before and Do you like what you see? They will appear in bold.

Rating: I have never given any of my stories a designation before, so going with M/Mature for content matter. The storyline is dark, odd, hopefully descriptive … but not graphic (at least I hope it isn’t).

Ta-Da! Yet another story no one asked for. (Quelle surprise!) It’s a hybrid of original content, sci-fi (maybe?), and my TRR franchise OTP … so whether you know me/my writing or not … please be open-minded and go easy on me. (The story makes so much sense in my head)

Huge THANK YOUs to @angelasscribbles for bouncing ideas with me, asking the hard questions, already plotting out part 2, and reading every effing word of this story multiple times. And to @ao719 who performed the beta! Love you ladies!

Please excuse any and all typos, missing/extraneous words, and/or grammatical errors. MS Word Editor rates this story at as 99% error free.

THANK YOU to anyone who reads this. Your likes, comments, and/or reblogs are appreciated more than you know!

Content Warning: Descriptions of death/killing; some slightly inappropriate NSFWish scenes

Liam and Riley belong to Pixelberry.

Song Inspo: Perfect Dress, Collar

Word Count: 3,007

The newly risen sun beams down warmly on my bare back as my arms and legs sluice through clear, blue water. I reach the end of the infinity pool, touch the wall, and began journeying my way to the other end. This is my fifth lap, and last for the day.

I step out of the pool naked, rivulets of chlorinated water falling from my hair before running in clear trails down my neck, and along my chiseled chest and abs. I eye what I can see of my body appreciatively: muscled, virile, my skin a burnished gold from summer sun.

This body … this life …. I haven’t lived this well in eons. And I have lived a lot of lives.

Two things never die: True love. Pure evil.

All that’s missing is her.

I wonder who she is in this reincarnation. I wonder where she is, and why I haven’t met her yet.

We meet every lifetime. Without fail. The Fates decree it, and I am curious what either of us has done to deserve this gift.

Or curse, depending on one’s perspective.

I finish toweling off just as the merest hint of her scent wafts beneath my nose. I look around, startled yet excited.

The thought of her eyes widening in recognition when she realizes who I am, the softness of her hair threaded through my fingers before my hand cups her neck.

I have never felt such bliss.

The feel of her strong fingers as they curl around my wrist, her nails digging into my flesh.

I miss her terribly.

Our breaths, harsh and ragged as we begin our age-old dance in the bid for dominance.

I always win.

I close my eyes and exhale an anticipatory sigh before opening them.

But no one is there.

I should have expected that. Her smell is far too faint, muted by distance and miles.

I stride into my bedroom through windowed terrace doors, pausing to toss my damp towel into a hamper. An urn of hot coffee sits on a side table, along with fruit and breakfast breads. I pour myself a cup before sprawling in a stiff, wooden armchair as I recollect our first encounter.

We are in Ancient Rome, in the Year of our Lord 62.

I am a Senator, part of the regime planning a coup against that whack job Nero; my countenance is comprised of obesity, wealth, and an extreme dissatisfaction with life in general. She is a slave girl at a privately-owned bathhouse: Young with a lithe body, and the most beautiful blonde hair.

Our meeting tonight is not the chance encounter she assumes it to be. I’ve been planning this night since I first saw her thronging amongst the Marketplace, selling fresh fruit for trinkets and coins. I am curious if she has a family to care for; surely working in an elite bath house such as this affords her a decent wage.

We are both nude, and she certainly does it better than I. Serpentine bands of gold encase her upper arms as well as her ankles.

The room is in near silence, the lapping of the water the only sound in the cavernous area. Carefully placed candles illuminate the space with flickering light.

Her scent wafts around me as she scoops handfuls of steaming water down my back. It isn’t unpleasant.

“How many have you bathed today?” I grunt as her fingertips massage into the tops of my beefy shoulders.

“Not many,” her breath whispers across the nape of my neck as her nipples brush against my skin.

“Aren’t you afraid? You know there’s a madman loose in the city, murdering slave girls.”

There is a slight hesitation before she speaks again. “That was at the public baths, sir. And the streets have been quiet the past fortnight or so.”

I say nothing as she moves around to my front. She bends to gather a cloth and a bar of soap; my beady eyes admire her graceful form and slender ass. Feeling my gaze upon her, she looks up at me with a smile I end up remembering forever: small, soft, yet illuminating with the merest hint of allure; a dimple appears in the cleft of her chin; and her eyes, the color of dark honey, glint.

The water is heavy, my body big; I struggle slightly to stand in the rather shallow pool. I covertly watch the girl for her reaction, but she doesn’t frown in disgust, nor do her eyes avert in pity or embarrassment. Rather, she extends her hand to help steady me.

I’m surprised at her kindness and matter-of-factness. I’ll repay it the only way I know how.

My member is aroused and erect from both her body and in anticipation at what will happen next; she notices and raises an eyebrow in question. My eyes bore into hers as I run sausage-like fingers through her slightly dampened hair; the pad of my thumb traces a path across her cheekbone and along her jawline before my hand cups her swan-like neck. Her eyes close in pleasure and she moans as my palm presses against the hollow of her throat.

“Look at me,” I mutter.

Her eyes meet mine; I watch as pleasure gives way to wariness, which gives way to fright as she sees the blackness in my eyes, the blankness of my expression. Her scent, a hybrid of honeysuckle, greenery, and soap, is now infused with fear.

I feel my cock jump at the smell.

I am the madman.

Despite the terror in her gaze, her body is filled with fight. The previously calm water churns as her legs thrash in her struggle to free herself. But my height and weight put her at a disadvantage. Her teeth are bared in a snarl as her nails rake scratches down the wet flesh of my arms; thin streams of blood redden my skin.

My hand now encircles her neck; I squeeze harder. Her cheeks redden and her breathing is labored gasps and gags.

This is better than I ever thought possible. She isn’t sniveling or groveling for her life. She doesn’t offer empty promises, she neither bargains nor pleads. No, she is fighting me for something that isn’t mine to take and hers to have.

Our macabre dance plays out in silhouette against marble walls.

It is the most satisfying kill I have ever executed, and I want to prolong the act as long as possible. But I promised to repay her earlier kindness. I won’t prolong her suffering.

Our eyes meet, and she manages one word: “Why?”

My answer is to snap her neck.

As life leaves her body, an orgasm releases from my cock; thick ropes of white disappear into the pool. And I fall a little in love with her.

Her spirit, her fire, her kind nature.

Her death.

There were no more murders of bath house girls after her.

I nibble on an apple as I sort through my wardrobe, choosing outfits to wear on my upcoming trip before methodically folding and placing them in a suitcase. The flight departs today; I’ll be leaving for the airport after breakfast. The destination escapes me for the moment, but it’s to be expected. In this life, I’m an extremely busy man. Over the course of my lifetimes, I’ve lived many places: New York City, Baltimore, London, Las Vegas, San Francisco, Paris, Berlin, Kalamazoo, Tokyo, Denver, Hong Kong, Chicago.

Chicago.

The city, the lifetime I realized that our encounters were not mere happenstance. I have made no deals with the deities to guarantee that I re-live the lust, the satisfaction, the love I get from killing her. Yet, we always meet, with the same results. It must be the Universe or other cosmic forces that pull us together.

We are soulmates. Of a different sort.

She is my destiny.

I am her damnation.

In 1940s Chicago, I am an insurance salesman. A bachelor who goes home to a cat and a TV dinner every work night. I attend church on Sundays, but gin makes me sin on Friday and Saturday nights.

The country is at war.

The city is on edge.

Someone is killing the women of Chicago. There’s neither rhyme nor reason to the murders: Housewives, bachelorettes, shop girls of all races and weights and heights. Their nude bodies have been found in trashcans, alleyways, back seats of cars.

The only connections between the victims are they are all young with dark-colored hair and wore red lipstick.

They were never shot; either strangled or stabbed.

The police have no clues, no leads.

This particular night finds me in the city’s South Side at a supper club that caters to Chicago’s black community. It features a local jazz band, show girls, and the best fried chicken in the Midwest. When I enter the establishment, my steps falter slightly; my nostrils are filled with the unmistakable scent of her. I look over the crowd: It’s filled with men and women with skin of various hues, mostly brown and black; there is raucous laughter and conversations peppered with slang I am unfamiliar with. I carefully study faces, looking for her smile; gender doesn’t matter. We’ve both returned as the opposite sex.

I enter the darkened lounge area and find a small table to the left of the stage. Her scent is stronger, and I feel my crotch bulge. A waiter takes my dinner order and brings me a drink; the undiluted gin is strong and burns my throat. The lights dim, and richly purple-colored velvet curtains lift just as my dinner is brought to me.

I glance up at the stage while I wait for the food to cool off some, and I see her. I swallow heavily as my heart rate accelerates.

She is a showgirl with skin the color of ebony. Everything on her is voluptuous: lips, hips, breasts. Her hair is hidden beneath an elaborately feathered headdress, and her shapely calves are encased in fishnet stockings. Her near-naked body sparkles with strands of pearls and rhinestones that dust the top of a pair of sequined shorts. Her nipples are covered with pasties.

Her chin dimples as she smiles brightly into the crowd.

I’ve seen that smile before, across several lifetimes. I would recognize it anywhere, on anyone. My cock throbs painfully.

I want to take her right now.

I push my plate aside, suddenly no longer hungry.

I watch the show … watch her … marveling at how easily and flawlessly she moves in sync with the other dancers, her skin gleaming beneath the bright overhead lights. She passes my table as she shimmies across the stage; she’s so close, I see the beads of perspiration dotting her nose, and where her red lipstick has seeped into the creases of her lips.

Her eyes travel quickly over the tabletop before meeting mine; hers show no recognition upon seeing me, but she winks cheekily. I smirk as I deeply inhale her perfume that does little to hide the aromas of honeysuckle and soap.

I wonder why she never recognizes me until it’s too late to save herself.

Probably a small mercy afforded her by the gods.

At intermission, I stand and stretch my legs; the showgirl is at the bar, talking and laughing with a small group of her fellow dancers. She’s removed her headdress; a dark braid falls against the nape of her neck. I make my way to her, giving her a polite smile in response to her inquiring look.

Her brow knits briefly as I stand before her; she points her index finger at me, wagging it as she speaks.

“You didn’t eat your food! That’s wasteful and Minnie the Cook’s gonna be mad about that,” she says in a tone that is slightly accusatory.

“Please, give Minnie my apologies. But it’s your fault … you took both my breath and appetite away.”

My eyes roam her body appreciatively before I ask if I can buy her a drink.

“Do you like what you see?” Her eyelashes flutter coquettishly.

My thumb runs along her jawline as I lean in closer to her.

“Do you?” I breathe into her ear before drawing back to stare into her eyes.

And then I smell the fear permeating her fragrance and pheromones; her eyes widen in terror and recognition.

“We meet again, my darling,” I whisper as I take her hand and kiss her palm.

Two days later, early on Monday morning, her body is found in a dumpster behind the supper club. Her throat had been slit.

I call in sick to work that morning. My eye is blackened, my lower lip is split and swollen. Scratches from her nails mar my cheeks and neck. I wouldn’t be able to satisfactorily explain the injuries.

It was worth it.

No more women were killed after her.

I stare out the plane window, barely able to contain my excitement as we draw closer to New York City. I sit up straighter when the city’s skyline appears piecemeal beneath thick, gray clouds.

I need to see her again.

I think I am in love with her. She is the only one who can satisfy my needs, my cravings.

Every lifetime.

We have met time and again throughout eternities: While most of our encounters have been transient, we’ve also been siblings, parent and child, husband and wife. And each time, she shows me a care and kindness … a friendliness I have never experienced anywhere else, with anyone else.

But it has never been enough. It will never be enough.

In this life, I haven’t killed anyone. Yet.

But I’ve wanted to.

I don’t want to kill her this time.

But I will.

It’s the entire purpose of our love story, the only reason she’s the one for me.

My friends and I stride through the terminal, our luggage being pushed on a cart by an airport worker. The weather is cool and cloudy; the streets and pavement filled with rain puddles.

After we’re checked in and settled into our hotel rooms, we decide to go out and explore. I hire a car, and we do an abbreviated tour of the usual touristy sights. As we cross over the Brooklyn Bridge, my attention is drawn to the Statue of Liberty, a lone sentinel in the expanse of water.

I’m fascinated by the iconic monument. In all my lifetimes, I’ve never seen it.

We are now in Brooklyn, and my comrades are complaining of hunger. Tariq and Maxwell want steaks and fine wine; a sullen-faced Drake wants a burger. They begin to bicker rather loudly amongst themselves.

I don’t care what we eat. Her scent is stronger now, and I am discreetly adjusting myself.

She’s within reach.

The car cruises through a neighborhood rife with pubs and bars; a storefront advertising a variety of burgers and wines catches my eye, and I instruct the driver to let us out. Tariq is still whining about steak, but I ignore him as we exit the vehicle. I lead the way to the eatery when a passing woman piques my attention.

I don’t know why. Perhaps it’s the thought of her consuming me. The smell of her scent arousing me. Or perhaps the reason lies in the fact that in this life, this body … there is no anonymity. Not for me, nor my potential victims.

The passerby is short, Korean, and her eyes are fixed on the ground. Her hair hangs long and dark against the back of a pale pink shirt. She wears a khaki-colored utility skirt and sensible shoes. This isn’t the woman I seek … the stranger smells only of fried grease and Avon … but she’ll do.

For now.

I abruptly turn around so I am facing my friends, telling them I forgot something in the car. No further explanation is necessary since they are walking past me and into the bar. Once the door closes behind them, I sprint after the woman; once I catch up to her, I tell her I’m a tourist and lost.

She ignores me.

I notice she wears a name tag; she works at China Café and her name is Nan. I assume she’s a waitress. I swiftly change tactics, offering her money to relieve my raging hard-on in the nearby alleyway.

One hundred dollars.

She appraises me suspiciously; apparently, I’m too handsome and well-dressed to pick up strange women on the street. Her eyes stop at my crotch, where my tell-tale protrusion gives veracity to my story.

She leads the way to the filthy alley.

Five minutes later, she’s propped up against the outside wall of the bar where I will be joining my friends, her neck broken. My underwear is filled with sticky semen, and I am breathing deeply from exertion, release, and relief.

It’s been far too long.

I hurry into the restaurant; I need to at least wash off, but upon entering the establishment I am almost knocked over by the overwhelming mingled aromas of honeysuckle, greenery, and soap.

Her.

My eyes search frantically around the room. I see a waitress at a booth, speaking with Drake.

She’s average height with blonde-highlighted dark hair. She’s biracial: Asian, possibly Thai, and African-American. Her lower lip is tucked between her teeth as she scribbles furiously on a pad.

I watch for a moment, taking her in. No one else sees the scars from the deaths I’ve inflicted upon her.

Only I can see her soul.

I straighten myself to full height and stride authoritatively towards her. I reach the booth just as she’s turning to head to the kitchen. We bump into each other.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” she gasps.

I chuckle disarmingly. “It is I who should be apologizing.” I extend my hand. “I’m sorry, Miss …?”

She smiles that smile that haunts me when she isn’t near me. “I’m Riley,” she says.

“Well hello, Riley.” I bend to kiss the back of her hand. “I’m Liam.”

Tagging: @jared2612 @ao719 @burnsoslow @marietrinmimi @merridithsmiscellany-blog @queenjilian @texaskitten30 @glaimtruelovealways @indiacater @kingliam2019 @bebepac @liamxs-world @the-soot-sprite @hopelessromanticmonie @mom2000aggie @cmestrella @iaminlovewithtrr @liamrhysstalker2020 @neotericthemis @twinkleallnight @umccall71 @superharriet @busywoman @gabesmommie1130 @tessa-liam @phoenixrising308 @beezm @gardeningourmet @lovingchoices14 @foreverethereal123 @mainstreetreader @angelasscribbles @lady-calypso @emkay512 @jovialyouthmusic @21-wishes @princessleac1 @charlotteg234 @bbrandy2002 @queenrileyrose @debramcg1106 @alj4890 @yourfavaqua222

In case you’re interested: @motorcitymademadame

#dcbbw writes #please be prompt #dark fic #slightly nsfwish #soulmates?

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hollyannewrites · 1 year

Text

Ditches

This is the beginning of a series I want to work on. Two guys, Benny and Liam, are figuring out friendship, relationships, and how to have a half-decent life. I'm going to do polls at the end of each chapter, so please vote and let me know where you think it should go next!

Benny’s phone rang once, twice, three times before he heard, and one more time before he dug it out of his pocket and answered. At this point in the night, there was not a single person in his life who should be awake, never mind calling him on the phone. The number that came up wasn’t in his phone.

“Hey Benny, it’s Liam,” came a hesitant voice, with a soft pattering sound like rain just behind it.

“Liam, hey. Did you need something?” Benny hadn’t actually spoken to Liam in a few weeks, mostly because he’d been pretty, and only a little because the last time they hung out had ended very awkwardly.

“Um…” his friend trailed off for a few seconds. “I could really use your help?” Liam spoke each word slowly and quietly.

Benny frowned. It was nearly 2 in the morning, and he was planning on going to bed in just a few minutes.

“Can it wait till morning?” He didn’t think he’d snapped, but the handful of silent seconds on the line were tense.

“I mean, not really? But it’s fine, it’s whatever, I can ask someone else,” Liam blurted.

“No, no, don’t call anyone else at this hour, Liam. What do you want?” he sighed.

“Would it be possible for you to—fuck hold on, gotta add a quarter.” There was a jingling and clinking sound, then he continued. “Would you be willing to pick me up from somewhere? I’m a little stuck out here.”

“Out where?”

“Uh, near a place called Paul’s Gasoline?”

“Where’s that?”

“Wish I knew, honestly.”

“Where’s your car?” Benny frowned into the phone.

“Wherever Kaya drove it, I guess,” Liam’s tone was acrid.

“And why can’t Kaya pick you up?”

“Well seeing as how she’s the one who left me here, I don’t think she’d be super willing to turn around and come back.”

“Wait, Kaya left you at a gas station in the middle of the night?”

“Nope.” He exhaled roughly. “She forced me out of the car on the side of the road like half a mile away and I walked to the gas station, which was the only thing out here that’s open. Well, was open. He just closed up.”

“Why would she—”

“Listen, Benny, I’m happy to explain, but I also only have one more quarter for this stupid pay phone, so can you help me out or not? I need to know if I should call someone else.”

Benny sighed, rubbing his temple. “Yeah, I’ll come and get you. I have to look the place up, is there anything else around to map to?”

“There’s a Kroger down the road a bit?”

“Great. Paul’s Gasoline near a Kroger. Sure. See you soon, I guess.” Benny ended the call before Liam could say anything else.

He quickly stepped into his boots, shrugged on a rain jacket, and pocketed his keys. His car was parked a little ways down the block, and his hair was dripping onto his forehead by the time he slid into the driver’s seat.

Google Maps told him that while there were four different gas stations called Paul’s Gasoline, only one was anywhere near a Kroger, and that one was nearly forty minutes away. He swore, then turned the keys. Only Liam would get stuck forty minutes outside of town in the middle of the night and then call him for help.

Part of him felt bad for Liam—it sounded, from his brief description of events, like he was having a rough night. The rest of him, though, was still not quite over what Liam had said to him last time they talked and didn’t really want to see him at the moment.

The drive was mostly dark, country roads, and he didn’t enjoy the stillness of it all, so he connected his aux cord and started playing some Fall Out Boy at top volume. The thrumming bass of the music drowned out any chance at having thoughts, so the long trip didn’t feel all that lengthy.

Pulling up to Paul’s Gasoline, he turned the keys in the ignition. He hopped out of the car into the torrential downpour.

“Liam? You getting in the car?”

From across the street, he caught a flash of movement, and turning to look, saw his friend shuffling over towards him. As he got close enough to be seen in the gleam of the headlights, Benny furrowed his brows.

Liam looked like shit. He was soaked through, dark curls plastered to his forehead, and his shirt and shorts clung to his skin as if he’d just gone swimming fully clothed. Skids of mud streaked his legs and arms, and a twig with leaves was nestled in his hair. Also, importantly, his eyes were rimmed with red—he’d been crying. Heavily.

“You look great,” Benny joked.

Liam just shrugged and shivered against the frigid rain.

“Why are you covered in mud?” he gestured at the mess.

“Walked around a little to warm up and fell into a ditch,” Liam mumbled, rubbing his arm awkwardly. “Do you want me to try to wipe it off before I get in?”

He considered the offer—after all, he didn’t want to have to get his car cleaned—but ultimately, he just wanted to go home as fast as possible.

“Just get in.”

Liam stumbled over to the passenger side and slid in, while Benny got the car started up. There was silence for a minute while he typed Liam’s address into Maps, and when he looked over, his friend was staring out the window, hugging his elbows and trembling.

He reached down and cranked the heat all the way up. They both needed it, he figured. Wet clothes and all.

“So Kaya made you get out of your own car?” Benny questioned as he pulled out of the gas station parking lot.

“Yeah.” The answer was short and clipped.

“How’d she pull that off?”

“She said to pull over and get out or she’d wrench the wheel and drive us into a tree,” Liam answered flatly.

Benny waited for him to laugh, to say he was joking, but he said nothing further.

“Wait, seriously?”

“Yeah.” Again, short and stiff.

“Why the hell would she do that?” Benny couldn’t imagine the energetic girl acting like that, not with her perky ponytail and the rhinestones on her fingernails. Kaya was emotional, sure, but not angry or vicious.

“I broke up with her.”

Benny jerked the wheel at that, before quickly correcting. He snuck a peak at Liam, who had both hands clenched around the seatbelt, knuckles white. His eyes were closed tightly.

“You ended things with her? I thought you two were talking about marriage?” The pair had been dating for a few years, and both had separately mentioned engagement at least a couple of times in the past months. They made a nice sight together, too. She was short, olive-toned, with pin-straight black hair and bright hazel eyes. He towered over her, all curls and dimples and soft body ideal for hugging.

A sardonic laugh from Liam. “We did talk about it. And then we didn’t.” When Benny didn’t jump in to fill the silence, he continued. “She was sleeping with Craig from down the hall. For almost a year now. He left his tie clip in our bathroom, a specially engraved one. I confronted her about it in the car and she said it was just for fun. It didn’t mean anything. Didn’t really change my feelings about it, so I told her I wanted to end things. And you can see exactly where that got me,” he sighed.

“Sorry to hear that,” he replied. And he was sorry, genuinely. Liam and Kaya had seemed happy to him. It wasn’t pleasant to think that a lot of that was a lie.

“It’s fine.” Liam shrugged. He was still staring out the window as the dark trees rolled past.

After a few minutes, Liam seemed to recognize the road they were on. “Are we headed back into town?”

“Yeah, I was taking you home. That’s where I mapped to.”

He winced. “Would it be possible to go to my parents’ instead?”

“It’s your apartment, Liam. She already forced you out of your own car, don’t make the same mistake with home.”

“I’m not. My keys are in the car, so I can’t actually get into my place.”

“You left your keys with her?”

“I left everything in the car. She was busy yelling, so I didn’t think to grab my stuff. Keys, phone, wallet—literally everything.”

“How’d you use a payphone without your wallet?”

“Begged the gas station attendant for money while he was closing. He gave me a handful of sticky quarters out of his pocket and told me to ‘git’.” He made air quotes with his fingers around the last word, tacking on a thick, rural accent to the word. “I appreciated it because it was either beg for quarters in the hopes someone would help me out or start walking and hope I hit the next town before sunrise.” Liam’s tone was light, trying to elicit a laugh, even, but the sour taste was just beneath the surface.

“Well, aren’t you lucky I picked up then?” Benny tried to joke along.

“Third time’s the charm, I guess.”

“Who else did you try to call?”

“Tried my mom and Curtis.”

“You tried to call Curtis before me?” Benny glanced at his friend, incredulous.

“Yeah. Thought he wouldn’t be super pissed about driving out here at night. He was drunk when he picked up though, so that didn’t go as planned.”

“Name a night of the week Curtis isn’t out having a few beers. He’s never a good choice to call for a pick-me-up.” Benny quipped.

“Yeah, realize that now. And Mom, for the record, was probably asleep, since she didn’t answer.”

“Well, I picked up, and I’m stupid enough to go out for a drive in this weather, so I guess it all worked out.” The car made a left onto a narrow, hilly road. “Also, if your mother’s not awake enough to answer the phone, she’s not going to hear the doorbell. You can crash at mine until the morning.”

He hadn’t meant to offer that, but the words left his mouth before he could stop himself.

#hollyanne writes #original fiction #poll #series: ditches #creative writing #original characters #fiction #original work #adult life #relationships #OC: Benny #OC: Liam #OC: Kaya #cheating

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doodlebeeberry · 2 years

Text

Losing and Finding

Bryce stared out at the stars above. Near to the city as they were, the vast majority were still blotted out, but the relative dark of the campgrounds revealed a small smattering of them, glittering clear. He knew—or, rather, he’d once heard—that all he really could see through the light pollution were satellites and planets he couldn’t name, but he didn’t care. Tired and sleepless, he felt as though he could touch them. In which Bryce, Liam, and Amelia go on a very important road trip

for objectober day 5- reunion! (and also for a request over on ao3)

my fun fact about this is that its the only thing ive ever written that ive made a playlist for. make of that what you will

(ao3 link in source)

They left early in the afternoon. Liam fidgeted with the radio dial, flipping past top 40s stations and several newscasts while Amelia drove along beside him.

“I still don’t get why we’re driving there,” He said, pausing for a moment at the tail-end of what seemed like some 80s dad rock.

“What else are we supposed to do,” Amelia asked, glancing between him and the road, “take the train?”

“Yeah?” a trap beat started up and Liam frowned, flipping past it. “The train is way better”

“But it takes way longer.”

“So? At least you don’t have to stop for gas every twenty miles”

“Are you accusing my car of having shit mileage?” Bryce butted in from the back seat, leaning in over the center console. He grasped his phone in his hand, halfway through entering directions.

“I’m not saying that!” Liam defended, throwing his hands up, leaving the radio on a live sportscast, “I’m not! I'm just saying, having to worry about gas stations isn’t the best way to travel”

“And counting train stops is? Or do you just like traveling around with a bunch of strangers?” Bryce countered, typing on his phone once more.

Something good must’ve happened in whatever game they were covering, given the whoops of ecstatic joy that suddenly came from the radio. Liam turned back to it, flipping to static.

“At least it’s more efficient. Better for the environment.” He said, faux-defensive.

“Whatever you say, man” Bryce replied offhand.

Relative silence lapsed between them, above the radio and vrring of the car down the road. It persisted for several seconds.

“Your mileage is pretty bad, though,” Amelia said, not bothering to look at either of them. Bryce flicked her rim.

“Is it that one about laying..” Amelia snapped her fingers a few times, trying to think of the name, “Chasing Cars, I think? That one?”

Bryce’s car didn’t have an audio jack, let alone bluetooth. A bit of an old junker, alongside the radio, it boasted only a skip-happy cd player and a tape deck that had chewed up a few cassettes in its time. But that hadn’t stopped Liam from breaking out his phone and, armed with the tape to aux converter buried in the glove box, playing dj after the radio had failed him.

“I don’t know that one” Bryce said.

Amelia glanced at him in the mirror, “Yes you do. It's the one they kept playing at the store the other week”

“The 'just lay here' one? You mean that?”

“Yeah, that! God, how many times in a row did they play that?”

“Way too many,” Bryce cringed a bit at the thought, “ Way too many. But no, it’s not that.”

They’d spent a while going around in a circle, each of them picking a song for Liam to play, one after the other. At present, though, the cycle had gotten stuck on Bryce, fumbling for the name of the song currently stuck in his head that he hadn’t actually listened to since high school.

“Does it sound like that, though?”

“Kinda?” Bryce furrowed a brow in thought, “I think it's named after some sort of flower?”

“Oh! Hey There Delilah!” Liam chimed in.

“No, not that either,” Bryce paused, briefly, then, turning to Liam, “how’d you get that from flowers?”

“Cause a delilah is a flower.”

“What? No, it’s just a name”

“No, Liam’s right, I think it’s a flower, too”

Bryce stared at Amelia and Liam like they were spouting gibberish. “What are you two talking about?”

“It’s true!” Amelia defended, “Look it up! Liam, look it up”

Bryce peeked around Liam’s shoulder at his phone, the browser already pulled up. Upon typing in ‘delilah’, Liam pointed to the suggested searches.

“See? ‘Delilah flower’, its the third result”

“That doesn’t make you right, though” Bryce replied, clicking the search and watching it load, slowly. Several pictures of pink and yellow flowers popped up on the screen.

“The delilah flower is a type of dahlia,” Liam read, “and is a member of the,” he squinted a bit at the word, “Asteraceae family, alongside daisies and chrysanthemums. They often symbolize kindness and steadfastness—see? It's a flower!”

They’d been sitting in traffic for a while now. Well over half an hour, at least. Apparently, according to the traffic report Liam had pulled up some twenty minutes ago, there had been an accident somewhere just ahead of them. A messy one, by the sound of it.

“I spy with my little eye, something that is…” Liam scanned the lines of cars stretching down the highway ahead of them, “Purple”

“Purple?”

“Yep. Bright purple.”

Bryce hummed, studying their surroundings. Purple wasn’t exactly a common colour on the highway. Still, he spotted a few speckles of it in the median to their left.

“Those flowers,” Bryce said, pointing. Liam glanced at them.

“Pretty! But no.”

He sputtered a bit. “What do you mean, no? They’re the only purple things around here!”

“No they’re not,” Liam said, grinning slightly at his frustration, “You’ve just gotta look closer”

Music swirled around them as he searched, Amelia humming along, tapping the steering wheel. He turned to her after a minute.

“Help me out, here, will you?”

“Nope,” she said, almost, sing-songy, “you got yourself into this, you—”

“You don’t know either, do you.”

“..no, I don’t.”

Bryce rolled his eyes, glaring out at the horizon. It was then that he spotted it: a splash of colour sticking out ahead of them.

“So? Admit defeat?” Liam asked.

“Oh my god,” Bryce replied. He all but shot forward to point it out, “That car ”

How he’d missed it before, Bryce didn’t know. It stuck out like a sore thumb: bright, almost neon purple, with what could only be described as a gaudy, yellow-striped fin sticking proudly out of the roof. Liam cackled.

“What is that ?” Amelia cried upon spotting it.

“That’s it!", Liam said between giggles, “You got it!”

Bryce continued to stare at it. He wouldn’t consider himself, or any of them, for that matter, an authority on good taste, not by a longshot. Their furniture clashed, their mugs were tacky—just about nothing back home in their apartment matched with anything else. But good god,

“That’s awful,” he said, balking, “what the hell?”

An hour later, traffic finally began to let up. They’d fallen into a bit of silence by that point, letting the music alone fill the space as they passed by the reminisce of the accident. Pointedly, Bryce stared down at the directions on his phone, listing the miles and miles they still had left to travel, his chest just slightly tight. He didn’t look up until Liam choked, suddenly, somewhat past the reminisce, snorting at the garish car they were passing. Upon spotting the matching fins stuck to the side doors, all striped with different colours, the three of them nearly howled with laughter.

They’d pulled into a small rest stop just after the car chimed about being empty, a larger one boasting several little restaurants if the sign was to be believed. Bryce stood beside the car, nozzle in hand, listening to the fwish of gas rushing between the pump and the car. The total cost whizzed higher and higher, much faster than the slow climb of the gallons beneath it on the display. He grimaced. Liam’s train idea seemed to make a lot more sense, then. He took to watching the highway instead. A tractor-trailer roared past, followed shortly after by a u-haul van and a tiny bright orange fiat. He tried to squint across the distance, to make out the figures behind the wheels or in the passenger’s seats, but they all just blurred together, sticking out no more than a single leaf on the trees boarding the road, dense in early summer green.

He couldn’t remember the face of the driver. It’d been chaotic, and in the moment, he couldn’t care less. He wasn’t looking for them. He—

The nozzle stopped, clicking. He blinked out at the scenery for a moment. A red SUV breezed past, then a black sedan, then a convertible, and so on and on and on. He forced his thoughts back to the present. Sparing the screen a glance, he found the tank hadn’t quite reached full but returned the nozzle anyways. It would be enough for tonight.

“Bryce!”

He turned, finding Amelia and Liam trotting out through the service center doors. A little black plastic bag hung off Liam’s arm, a sandwich in his hand. Bryce had just enough forewarning, when Liam threw it to him, to catch it. He turned it over, reading the label. Turkey and swiss.

“They’re doing renovations in there, so the restaurants were closed,” Liam said on approach, “It was kinda slim pickings. I got some snacks too if you just want those instead” he began digging through the bag a bit. Bryce hadn’t actually told them he’d wanted anything, to his knowledge. He'd forgotten about eating almost entirely. Still, heart warm,

“Nah, this is fine,” Bryce said, “Thanks.” He began unwrapping it carefully. Liam smiled gently, pulling out a snack cake for himself.

“Of course, man.”

The three stood clustered together for several minutes, chatting and eating and stretching out after being cramped in the car for nearly five hours straight, drinking in the long shadows and the warm slant of the late afternoon sun. Amelia swallowed the last bit of her granola bar.

“How much further are we going today?” She asked.

Bryce hummed. “I think we're...an hour out from Pittsburgh? Something like that”

“Alright, cool” She replied, crumpling up the wrapper. It glinted, silvery, almost dazzling in the light. Amelia tossed it into a nearby bin and stretched a bit, groaning slightly. “God, I don’t remember the last time I drove this long.”

“I can take over, you know.” Bryce offered.

“No need,” Liam butted in before she could answer, oozing with mock confidence, “I’ve got it!”

Amelia and Bryce looked at him flatly.

“No,” they said, together.

“Why not?” Liam whined.

“Cause we wanna get there without wrecking the car first” Amelia replied, patting his shoulder when he frowned, “Sorry”

Liam grumbled, bitelessly, “You crash one car four times—”

“How do you still have a license?” Bryce asked, opening the driver’s side door.

“No idea. Dumb luck, probably”

“Really?” Amelia said, sliding into the back seat, “I just thought you bribed the DMV somehow”

Liam sputtered as she shut the door.

He wasn’t sure how, exactly, Amelia and Liam had convinced him to go camping on the way here instead of just getting a motel somewhere. Some mix of ‘it’ll be cheaper' and ‘it’ll be good weather for it’ and ‘we can borrow the neighbour’s tent, he’ll let us’ and ‘come on, it’ll be fun’, combined with the fact that those two were very, very good at convincing him to do stupid stuff, regardless of the fact that none of them had been camping in ages at least, if at all. Between the three of them, they could hardly even set up a tent, a fact proven when they’d been startled awake by it collapsing onto them while they slept about an hour ago. They hadn’t bothered setting it back up, though. Rather, they’d chucked it into the back of the car, opting to sleep under the sky instead, still pressed shoulder to shoulder as they had been in the just-to-small tent. But he hadn’t fallen back asleep yet. For nearly an hour, he stared up, listening to Liam and Amelia snore or mumble occasionally in their sleep. Frogs and crickets sang out, all around them. A warm night, just slightly windy. He counted the stars once, twice, thrice, until he lost count, over and over, trying to drown out the creep up his spine. Not unease, not anger, not quite numbness. He clenched clover-filled grass between his fingers.

Half a block away. So, so close to home—most accidents happen close to home. He wasn’t sure where he’d heard that. It sounded true. It felt true. Bad things always happen close to home. He heard it happen from the front door. Screeching. Crashing. Clattering. Screaming. A voice.

Bryce swallowed. He counted the stars again. He didn’t know any constellations but sought them out anyways.

He could hardly see her. A flash of torn blue. Warped plastic, forced into itself. Crunched metal. Glass shards glittered. The streetlights hid nothing. Above the haze of voices, he heard her gasping.

Fuck.

Her friend was shaking, scraped. The driver could hardly stand. Despite the early summer, a chill seized him.

Liam, rolling over, threw an arm out, smacking Bryce in the face. It forced a shaky breath from him, so suddenly wrenching him from his thoughts. Once he realized what’d happened, he shoved his arm off of him. Several moments later he rolled over himself, facing the trees, and shut his eyes.

“Right, you’d think that,” Liam said, “but that’s not what he did”

Amelia picked a glazed munchkin from the box between them. They idly soaked up the morning slowly, clustered around a teeny table in a rest stop dunkin.

“What else could he do?” She asked before popping it in her mouth.

“Double down.”

“Didn’t you just say he was completely wrong?” Bryce asked.

"Oh, yeah, totally,” He sipped his tea, “The book said he was wrong, but he didn’t care. He just started railing on us about it”

Amelia wiped her fingers on a napkin. “Why?”

“Cause he didn’t wanna be wrong? I don’t know. But he spent, like, half an hour arguing with us. He even gave one of my classmates detention over it.”

She raised a brow, “Really?”

“M-hm. I don’t think she actually went, though.”

“Wow,” Amelia paused a moment, then, “He sounds awful.”

“Yeah, he sucked,” He leaned back as Bryce sipped his coffee, “He was probably the worst science teacher I ever had. Like, he would fail you if he didn’t like how you did your notes”

Amelia hummed, perking up, “I had an english teacher like that. She’d make you rewrite your homework if she didn’t like your handwriting.”

“Must’ve been a bad class for you, then” Bryce quipped.

“You have no idea. I still have nightmares about it” She grimaced, chuckling a bit.

Wind whipped in through the open windows. It would, under any other circumstances, be hard to make out the music crackling through the speakers, but,

“Mamaaa, life had just begun!” Liam crooned along from the backseat, horrifically off-key, “But now I’ve gone and thrown it all away!”

Bryce held back a laugh, “At least sing it on key, ”

“No! That’s no fun, come on,”

“Oh my god—”

“Mamaa,” Amelia sang, a bit more subdued but just as pitchy, “oooh,” She glanced between the road, Bryce, and Liam. Liam brightened. Bryce all but buried his face in his hands. “Didn’t mean to make you cry,”

Liam joined her, “If I'm not back again this time tomorrow,” he leaned over the center console. Side-by-side, they nearly shouted, “Carry on! Carry on, as if nothing really matters,”

Bryce snickered, “I can’t go anywhere with you two,”

“Come on, you love us,” Amelia grinned at him.

“Maybe, when you can sing on key”

She reached over blindly to nudge at him, “You’re mean!” before launching back into the song with Liam. Bryce watched them, smiling slightly. He’d heard them both sing before, when making dinner or sweeping or flipping through the mail, melodies under their breaths. They weren’t quite so off-key, normally. Though in those cases, he supposed, they weren’t singing around fits of giggles either. And, during one such bout of laughter, when he chimed, a bit flat,

“So you think you can stop me and spit in my eye?”

Liam threw an arm around his shoulder. Amelia beamed, and the three of them sang into the afternoon, ringing out along the seemingly endless highway for all the world to hear.

“Would you rather…” Amelia tapped the steering wheel, thinking, “fight one bear-sized ant, or a hundred ant-sized bears?”

“Ant-sized bears” Bryce replied, almost off-handedly.

“Really?”

“Yeah, you just step on 'em.”

“But they have claws, they can attack you. Ants don’t have claws.”

Liam butted in, “What kind of ants do you mean, though? Some of them b—”

He was cut off by a loud thup-th-thump from the back of the car. They tensed, and when it continued, jolting the car as it drove along, Bryce’s heart lurched, uneasy.

Upon pulling over, though, the issue became clear enough.

“Shit,” Bryce grumbled. On full display before them, the rear right tire had been rendered flat as a pancake. Despite the simplicity of the issue, the slight unease in his chest stuck.

“No big deal, we can just replace it,” Amelia said confidently, turning to him, “Where’s your spare?”

“That is the spare,” he replied without looking up.

“Ah.”

They stood there for several moments, staring at it as though it might, by some miracle, reinflate. Cars breezed by, uncaring, filling the silence. When it became clear the issue wasn’t going to fix itself, Liam ducked into the car for his phone.

“How long have you been driving on it?” she asked.

“About a month”

She turned to Bryce once more, “You know you’re not supposed to do that, right?”

“I know”

“So…why?”

Now, the honest answer was simply that Bryce hadn’t gotten around to changing it, but,

He glanced at her, “Is there any answer that’ll keep you from chewing me out?”

“Not really, no”

“Then I don’t know” Bryce replied, looking back down at the tire. She sighed, only somewhat exasperated, luckily enough for him.

“Before you lecture him,” Liam said, popping back out of the car, phone in hand, “can one of you give me the number for the tow truck first?”

It took the truck about an hour and a half to get there, and another thirty minutes to drop them off at a garage. It would be at least twenty minutes before the mechanics would even be free to see their car, and even then it would take another ten to actually change the tire. They’d been a bit thrown off schedule, was the point. But, unlike the wait for the truck, which the three of them spent baking in the sun and, in Bryce’s case, getting just mildly chastised by Amelia for being unsafe, the garage sat right next to a strip mall, which they took to wandering through at their leisure. Most of the storefronts were fairly uninteresting: a craft store boasting a 50% sale on yarn, a dance studio through the windows of which they could spot a handful of kids stumbling their way through ballet, a shuttered antique shop that was nearly empty, it seemed, beyond a half-open box of ceramics, and so on and on. They drifted into a few shops but hardly stayed long enough to peruse, much less buy anything.

The unease in Bryce’s chest hadn’t left. Really, it’d been hovering over him all day, just enough to be noticeable, but the blow-out had far from soothed it. As he trotted around aimlessly, making idle chatter with Liam and Amelia, it seemed to curl its way down from his chest to the pit of his stomach, wriggling ever so slowly into a dreadful weight. He knew, despite the setbacks, that they’d likely still make it there by the end of the day. Stepping out of a pet shop, he tried to tune the realization out.

“I think we should’ve gotten that kitten,” Liam said, walking alongside Amelia a step ahead of him.

“I don’t think our landlord would let us have a pet,” Amelia replied, “he was pretty cute though”

They wandered up to a little flower shop, nearly bursting at the seams with blooms if the view through the window was any indication. Several bins of bouquets sat beside the door.

“We could’ve hidden him. That’s what I did when I was little”

Bryce slowed to a stop beside one of the bins.

“You had a cat?” Amelia asked.

“For a little bit, yeah. A little grey one. I called her Dusty”

They stopped, then, no longer hearing his footsteps.

“Bryce?” Amelia called back, turning. He didn’t reply, looking over the flowers, frowning slightly. Thinking. She came to his side, Liam not far behind.

“They’re pretty,” she said, after a moment. He hummed, half listening. Carefully, he picked up a bundle of bluebells and baby’s breaths, turning them over in his hands. The back half of the bouquets had wilted noticeably.

“Do you wanna get some?” she asked, gently. Bryce glanced at her. “For..”

“Yeah…” he said, “I think so?” he set them back in the bin just as gently as he’d grabbed them. His hand hovered slightly at the edge. “I don’t know”

He was almost sheepish—an odd look on him, in both Amelia's and Liam’s eyes. She looked out over her choices for a moment before reaching for a bunch in the center of the bin.

“Here,” Amelia held the bouquet out to him: a small assortment of iris and white chrysanthemums, “how about these?” He took them, vibrant and alive, in his hands.

“...They’re nice” he replied, smiling just slightly at her. She smiled back. The three of them trotted inside the cramped store and up to the till. But, when Bryce began fumbling for his wallet, Amelia set a hand on his arm.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said, wallet already in hand. He didn’t get the chance to reply before she stepped up to the counter to pay.

It wasn’t until they began making their way back to the garage, side-by-side with her, that he said, warmly,

“Thanks, by the way”

And she grinned up at him once again, just as warm.

They did not, in fact, get there before the end of the day.

Bryce gripped the wheel a bit too tightly, staring out into the evening din at the red light. They’d left the music on autoplay, and it’d wandered its way from oldies to 00s alt to soft jazz, somehow, spilling from the speakers alongside Liam’s gentle snoring from the backseat. Glancing beside him at Amelia, she seemed on the brink of dozing off, too. He watched the light, taking deep breaths. The feeling in his gut had only gotten worse, bigger, threatening to crush him beneath the dread.

Caught between a rock and a hard place. Metal against her arms. Her chest. Her legs. Unyielding, sharp. Pinned like an insect. She could hardly squirm. She couldn’t speak. Just stare.

They were just outside Hartford. Twenty minutes out. Less than that, even. He hadn’t seen these streets in years, but somehow he still knew the path like the back of his hand. He wished he didn’t. He wished he didn’t wish that.

He met her eyes around the mess. Wide. Terrified. Desperate. Staring straight into him.

He wished the light would change. He wished it wouldn’t. He watched it, palms clammy, half seeing around the lump in his throat.

Friends and neighbours scrambled around them. She only looked at him.

Fuck. He couldn’t do this.

He said something, numbly. Whispery. Mumbling. Drowned out in the panic.

He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t do this.

He said something to her. He couldn’t do anything else.

He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t do this. He had to turn around. He couldn’t do this. He—

“Hey,” Amelia knocked him out of it, nudging him, “light’s green.”

He struggled to swallow. The buzz in his head lifted just enough that he could acknowledge the little green dot hanging in his sight.

“Right,” he said. Steeling himself, he pulled ahead. Nobody had been behind him, thankfully. Liam had stirred, at some point, leaning to look at him. The music had stopped. The quiet drenched him like cold water. He went a little faster, filling the space with the low vrr.

“You alright?” Amelia asked eventually. He adjusted his grip on the wheel.

“M-hm” he replied, flat, staring dead ahead. He didn’t notice the look she and Liam shared, much too focused on pressing onwards. He couldn’t do anything else.

Bryce stood at the threshold. A short stone wall stretched on either side of him, moss-speckled. Beyond the first few rows, the streetlamps did little to light the plots. Cricket song once more filled the air, now gone humid. His legs felt like jelly. Like bricks. Too heavy to move. Too light to control. The flowers had wilted just a bit on the car ride here. He clutched them in his left hand. Amelia held his right hand loosely. Liam stood at his other side. They hovered there for a minute, unmoving. Liam set a hand on his shoulder.

“You don’t have to if you’re not ready,” he said, “it’s fine”

Bryce took a deep breath. Without a word, he stepped forward, pulling away from them, past the wall, and into the cemetery itself.

He’d only actually visited once, following her burial, early in the morning with his mother, just before they’d stopped talking completely. Even still, he knew exactly where he was going, moving on autopilot past rows and rows of graves. A few had candles lit around them, while others were decorated with flowers or pictures or the occasional odd trinket. Others still were laid barren, unloved. Moss and weathering crept up the headstones, so much so on some that their names became no more than unreadable impressions on the granite. He turned right. It was almost hard to breathe. The grass had grown in long, lit mainly by the little lights from Liam and Amelia’s phones. Hardly any of these graves were decorated, though none were yet overgrown. It seemed to take ages, like the row grew longer with each step. Eventually, though, he stopped, one grave over from the edge. It, too, was undecorated, a few leaves having gathered on the headstone. After a moment’s deliberation, he reached out and brushed them off with forced-steady fingers.

Stella Hansen, it read. Dead exactly six years to the day. He set the flowers down and stepped back, hanging there just above her grave like a ghost. The dread was gone, somewhat. The weight remained, but it morphed into obtuse shapes, the names of which escaped him, moving senselessly through him. He remembered, last time he was here, how his mother had spoken: a curt, one-sided conversation, her shoulders stiff. He felt, now, that he should say something too. Some greeting, at least. Some talk about life. The scrips were there, in his head, for meetings with estranged family and friends he hadn’t seen since high school and any number of contexts he could try to slot his words into, but they refused to take form. He opened his mouth, and his throat went numb, language morphing and dying on his tongue.

The world seemed small, impossibly so. Bryce stood in a bubble, him and her and the sounds of night, where life and death seemed to blur until he was back at the accident, in the radio room, her eyes meeting his across the distance. Like she’d be able to hear him, somehow.

He stayed there until the numbness and weight grew too much and he stepped away, breaking back into reality. Turning, he walked off without saying a word, Amelia and Liam trailing behind him.

They sat on the hood of the car, shoulder to shoulder, parked in the near empty lot beside a worn-out epic burger, parking lines faded away and overrun with cracks. Yellow dandelions and little white clover blooms climbed up and spilled out across the pavement in clusters, soaking up the orange-y glow of streetlights in place of the sleeping sun.

“So I spent a few days feeding her, and eventually she let me get close to her,” Liam said. Hesitantly at first, both he and Amelia had taken to telling old stories to fill the dead air circulating around them. He gestured a bit with his cup, half-full with a sub-par chocolate milkshake.

“But when I tried to pet her for the first time? She bit me! Pretty hard, actually. I’ve still got a mark on my thumb from it”

“Is that what that is?” Amelia said, looking to the tiny scar on his hand.

“M-hm. I still kept feeding her, though”

It was appreciated, honestly, but Bryce was only half listening to them, peering down into the depths of the vanilla shake slowly but surely numbing his palms. His thoughts all wandered in the same direction.

He had a lot of things he wanted to say. They rushed to the forefront now, well after they’d driven off and Stella was out of reach to hear them, like a delayed reaction.

He didn’t move an inch until they’d finally gotten her free. Hands hovered over her. Distant sirens wailed. She couldn’t hear him screaming her name. He’d scrambled to life several seconds too late.

He wanted to chew her out, so badly. He wanted to rant and rave at Stella for everything she had done, how she’d left and taken the fragile stability of his life with her. He wanted to apologize for never mourning her, never visiting, spending years drowning thoughts of her in idle stressors. He wanted to tell her everything— everything: how bad new action movies looked, how expensive gas was, how her favourite band released another album, how his new boss was kinder, how there was an ant colony outside their building, how the weeds in the grass had grown in lush. About moving and losing and finding and living and breaking and dying and living again. He wanted to ask her if she’d be there, when he finally, actually, kicked it. He wanted her to say that she would. He wanted, needed, her to understand the space she left behind, sometimes expansive and sometimes so very small.

The cup crinkled, contorting in his grip. milkshake dribbled onto his fingers.

He wanted to remember her. He wanted to stop missing her.

“Bryce?” Amelia set a hand on his arm delicately, “What’s wrong?”

Liam leaned in closer at his other side. “Are you ok?”

He couldn’t see them clearly; he wasn’t sure when, but his vision had gone blurry, stinging. He opened his mouth to answer, but once more the words died on his tongue. What was he supposed to say? He hadn’t cried about it in years. But Liam took the cup carefully from his hands, and Amelia pressed a napkin firmly into his palms, and their voices were low, and warm, and palpable enough to pull the weight in his chest until his shoulders shook and his face was striped wet. They wrapped their arms around him tightly, murmuring, rubbing circles along his back. The first of few stars watched them overhead. Once more the world seemed to shrink. Bryce held them back just as tightly—tighter, even—letting Liam and Amelia fill in the gaps.

#this got a bit. out of hand #objectober #hfjone #objectober 2022 #bryce hfjone #liam hfjone #amelia hfjone #soda bottle hfjone #backpack hfjone #scenty hfjone #i edited this very sparsely at like 3am last night so if theres a bunch of little errors. mind your own business #writin and ravin #onehfj

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magicalyaku · 2 years

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I spent two very great weeks of vacation in Seoul (and Jeju) with my friends and am now begrudgingly home again. I still managed to squeeze in a bit of reading time. My TBR didn't get any shorter though, because of the 10 books I read, 8 were from the library and only one of those was on my reading list beforehand. Great!

Solange wir die Sterne sehen (Liam Erpenbach): This was kind of heavy. Both from the flowery writing style and the topic of a serious illness. But it was done well and really sweet. Next to the romance, there's also a great and very important platonic relationship which is something I'll always appreaciate.

Fence 1-4 (C.S. Pacat, Johanna The Mad): After the heavy read and with just a week to go before my vacation I didn't want to start anything I might not be able to finish or too difficult. So comics it was! I borrowed all the volumes my library had. (And I will be the first one to get it once they buy the fifth, hrhr!) A fun read!

A Far Wilder Magic (Allison Saft): Another month, another YA fantasy book I did not like! 8D And what a shame, because the cover is lovely and the blurb sounded so good, but I never got into the writing style and the world building. I just expected a real fantasy instead of a "just like our world but with alchemy" and a real hunting adventure and not a silly competition event where the only action is the five mile walk from the house into town and back. I liked that for once the girl was the mysterious and strong one while the boy was the noisy, easy-going type. But I was a little dispappointed that her strength was just a "I need to keep it together" and not "I'm proud of who I am" kind of strength. And also that sex scene on the beach? "There was sand everywhere but I didn't care." Well, I did care. Gross.

The Foxhole Court (Nora Sakavic): I fully admit that I've been brainwashed. I've seen this book before and was always uninterested because sports and that hideous cover. Then my tumblr radar flooded me with fanarts and quotes for three weeks and I cried "But the cover is so ugly!!" and then a certain person went and made pretty new dustjackets, which made me suffer thoroughly, and then my library said "Look, it's available right now!". I couldn't help it. The universe told me to read! D: And what can I say, I loved it. Maybe it's thanks to the fact that I read A Far Wilder Magic right before and loathed it, that I had a much easier time appreciating things done well in The Foxhole Court. (Skip if you don't want lengthy examples: In AFWM the author uses way too many pronouns for my taste. As in several paragraphs with no mention of the name. At one point it even was the heroine and her mother talking and it would have been easy to use the names of either woman as none was used in the sentences right before, yet it was "she" in one sentence referring to the mother and "she" in the next referring to the daughter. (I know that this can work but here I was just confused). I'm a writer myself and I struggle with writing scenes like that and my beta-reader told me I use too many pronouns, so I'm probably extra aware of such things in the books I read. It annoyed me to no end in AFWM. And then came TFC with four boys talking in the same scene and it just worked and I was a little amazed. Funnily enough, something similar happened back then with The Raven Cycle. I hated the book I read before, it was so boring and the characters were incrediby lame. I DNFed it and started The Raven Boys and within the first 50 or so pages I realised that even though it introduced like a million characters at once I already knew and liked every single one better than I did with 3 people after 200 pages of the former book. 8D (Needless to say that TRC is one of my favourite series)) Back to TFC! For once, there's a bunch of interesting characters! I mean, yes, they’re all weirdos and the violence and drugs are kinda a lot, buuuut ... Neil can handle himself. Also, the showdown was a duel of words! And nothing of what Tumblr teased me with happened so far (which to be honest makes it more fun), so I'm looking forward to the next volumes!

Keeper of the Lost Cities 1 (Shannon Messenger) (Audiobook): This one is so long, omg. I'm usually bad with audiobooks but I started listening on the flight home from Seoul. And then kept listening at home while rolling around on the floor wallowing in despair that my vacation is over (and probably jetlag). It's definitely a series starter book. So many small things happening one after each other and the one big thing in the end doesn't even get resolved. But it's cute and interesting enough or else I would not have made through 12 hours. The only thing I did not appreciate as much was the amount of suffering Sophie goes through. I do like my characters suffering a bit (never say no to a cute boy crying), but she's only 12 years old. No need to torture her that much. Also girl, what's with that "I'm glad he won't be my big brother"? You have no idea, what's good! D: Keep Fitz as big brother and Keefe as a boyfriend, if you ask me. (Apart from the fact that with 12 or 13 you really don't need a boyfriend at all.)

This Is Why They Hate Us (Aaron H. Aceves): I borrowed this one from the library after I tossed another book after 50 pages because I could not bear another YA heroine with secret magic powers. It's not like I hate 17-year-old girls, but as I said in the previous post I have no patience for them at the moment. The best friend in This is why they hate us? I wanted to choke her in the beginning! 8D "Oh Quique, your summer can't be good without a boyfriend!" "You're 17 and haven't kissed anyone yet?!" (not literal quotes) I hate reading stuff like that. Luckily, it got better later. There were a lot of different topics crammed into and I'm not sure if it did justice to all of them, but in the end I think it was a decent story about finding oneself. After the bumpy start I decided to mainly read it as "life experience" (as in I'll never be a 17-year-old boy so reading about them makes me believe I can write about them better), but as it went on I actually came to like it.

Wo Träume schlafen gehen (Marta Kubis): This one was hard. From the blurb I thought I'd love it. 12-year-old girl, her big brother, an airship and an adventure? Sign me up! It's also pretty short with 200 pages yet I still got bored in the middle and once again neither liked the writing style nor the heroine ...

On a final note, due to ... things happening, I started watching Yuri on Ice for the first time ever. Between that and the other All for the Game books I think, my October will be fun! uAu~

#yaku reads #september wrap up #books #queer books #lgbtq books #queer lit #booklr #ya books #solange wir die sterne sehen #a far wilder magic #the foxhole court #all for the game #fence #wo träume schlafen gehen #this is why they hate us

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spoilertv · 13 days

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#SpoilerTV

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blueberryshelves · 4 months

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_______________________________________________

Book Review

Title: The Bite Author: Z.W. Taylor

Series: The Moon Blood Saga, book #1

No. of Pages: 312

ISBN: 978-1-9902-5965-4 (Also available on wattpad)

Synopsis:

A page-turning paranormal suspense novel about a woman fighting for a new life—and the bite that shifts everything."A deeply satisfying tale . . . werewolf fans should check this out." —Publishers Weekly To escape her violent ex, Charlotte flees her home in the middle of the night with nothing but the cash in her pocket and a paper map leading her north to Alaska. She sheds her old self along the way: dyeing her hair, scrubbing off her fake California tan, and pawning all her jewelry. None of it is worth anything if she can’t stay alive. Alone in the wilderness, Charlotte feels safe at last. Even if she’s lost, even if she’s only got a burner phone that lost its last bar miles ago, and even if she missed her turn and can’t find the cabin she was promised by a friend. Tucked into a sleeping bag in the back seat of her ancient truck, she’s finally living life on her own terms. But that feeling is short-lived. In the middle of the woods, Charlotte’s attacked, brutally, unforgivingly—and something bites her leg. And it’s a bite that will change her life forever.

_______________________________________________

What did I think of the book?

The Bite by Z.W. Taylor My rating: ⭐⭐⭐⭐ 4 of 5 stars Okay, this book was pretty cool. Very emotional, lots of triggers, but I found myself really liking it, more than I thought I was going to. Though some of the details were confusing and didn’t make much sense at times, especially in the early chapters, (the version I read also had a fair few typos), this didn’t affect the reading experience for me enough to matter much. The overall concept of a girl going through the process of overcoming abuse from her partner, all with the fun of werewolves and such in the mix, really made for a keep-me-on-the-edge-of-my-seat read. I haven’t seen this kind of take on the werewolf genre before, so I thoroughly enjoyed the fresh material. The shifting scenes were so well done, hands down the best description and imagery I’ve seen in a werewolf book so far. I couldn’t put the book down, and the ending was so satisfying. I’m honestly glad that there isn’t romance in the book yet, despite craving it a little bit. I think it wouldn’t make any sense so early on in the MC’s healing journey. We see Charlotte resisting those kinds of feelings that attempt to poke their head up when Liam is being a friend to her in his own fun way, and that little detail emphasizes just how scarred this poor girl is from her past lover, adding to the realism of the emotions being expressed throughout the book. Some have said the original version of the story is better, but personally, I’d say this rework was still quite the banger of a book on its own, and I very much look forward to book two. Favorite character/s: Can I say everyone? I found myself liking all of the main characters (Charlotte, Levi, Liam, Derek, Elliot) all for different reasons, which normally isn’t the case, ever. But, in order, top fav. would probably be Liam for how sweet he is and the friendship he makes with Charlotte. Second would be Derek and Elliot, those two together are just hilarious. Third: Levi and Charlotte. Levi grew on me a lot as the book went on, despite the kind of character he is, and the connection that develops between him and Charlotte was just beautiful. Charlotte’s character also had really good character development and I hope we get to see more of that in the second book. What drew me to this book? The cover. It was bold and stood out to me among the others I’d been scrolling through. Stars: 4/5 - even with the few hiccups that the book had, the author nailed the story and balance between the healing process of the MC, and werewolf elements. So this is a solid 4 out of 5 stars for me. View all my reviews

#book review #the bite #z.w. taylor #werewolves #vampires #witches #fantasy #survival #overcoming abuse #emotional #fiction #booklr #bookblr #book blog #books #bookish #bookworm #books and reading #book photography

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stillunusual · 2 years

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Leeds United: Meslier, Drameh (Ayling 70), Koch, Llorente, Struijk, Roca (Greenwood 86), Adams, Sinisterra (Summerville 59), Harrison (Bamford 45), Aaronson, Gelhardt (Klich 59).

Subs not used: Klaesson, Forshaw, Cooper, Hjelde. This was a somewhat farcical game from a Leeds perspective, following on from a farcical transfer deadline day two days before.... After getting most of our summer transfers done early in the window, we've been trying unsuccessfully to boost our front line ever since. Over the last few weeks Leeds have made unsuccessful attempts to sign Eddie Nketiah, Charles De Ketelaere and Hwang Hee-chan. The day before the window closed, Victor Orta travelled to Eindhoven and apparently had a deal in place for Cody Gakpo, only for PSV to change their minds the next morning and refuse to sell the player. Orta then agreed terms with Marseille for Bamba Dieng, who was on his way to the airport to fly to Leeds when the deal was literally hijacked by Nice, who persuaded him to join them instead. However, later in the day he returned to Marseille after apparently failing his medical at Nice. Leeds then enquired about Brereton Diaz from Blackburn and Joel Piroe from Swansea but were put off by the asking prices. Finally, a last gasp deal for 18 year old Wilfried Gnonto was agreed with FC Zurich a few minutes before the window closed. It was then revealed that we were already planning to sign him in January, but both the player and his club agreed to bring the deal forward. Meanwhile Dan James had travelled down to Fulham to seal a season-long loan deal, which Leeds allowed to go through, despite the fact that we had failed to land a replacement that's ready for first team football. So the end result of all this activity was to weaken our squad, while strengthening a team that's likely to be one of our rivals in the bottom half of the league. In other news, midfielder Mateusz Bogusz was shipped out to UD Ibiza on loan until the end of the season. Rasmus Kristensen picked up a knock in training so Cody Drameh started at right back against Brentford, but it was nice to see Luke Ayling and Liam Cooper on the bench. Despite the 5-2 scoreline it wasn't actually that bad a performance from Leeds (we had 70% of the possession and scored twice against a well organised Brentford team), but the extent to which we kept shooting ourselves in the foot with kamikaze defending was really alarming. The match officials also made some questionable decisions that went against us.... There was nothing much in the game until Brentford were awarded what looked like a very soft penalty after a VAR check that lasted several minutes, and Ivan Toney beat Illan Meslier from the spot. Toney doubled Brentford's lead from a free kick a few minutes later after Robin Koch committed a silly foul just outside the Leeds penalty area. Nevertheless, we were actually playing the better football and a moment of real quality from Luis Sinesterra just before half time gave us hope. After receiving the ball in the Brentford half he flicked it up and over Rico Henry and then buried it inside the near post from 20 yards. After the break we pushed for the equaliser only to concede a crazy goal after Toney latched onto a dreadful clearance from Meslier (who was miles off his line), before bringing the ball inside and chipping it into the unguarded net. The referee then failed to award us a blatant penalty for a foul on Crysencio Summerville, which really incensed Jesse Marsch, who was shown a red card after remonstrating with the fourth official. Patrick Bamford somehow managed to miss an open goal from within the Brentford six yard box, but shortly after that Marc Roca brought Leeds back into the game with a sliding finish from Luke Ayling's cross. And then we fucked up again.... Diego Llorente misjudged a long ball over the top from Brentford and nodded Bryan Mbeumo through to finish coolly at the near post. Mbeumo looked offside, but the goal was given after another very long VAR check. And worse was still to come.... In added time, Llorente was dispossessed while fannying about with the ball just outside the box, allowing Yoane Wissa to net a fifth goal for Brentford. Despite all the changes that took place at Leeds over the summer, the same problems remain. Sinisterra aside, we don't have enough quality in the final third, we make too many unforced errors and our defence is shaky and very vulnerable to quick counter attacks. However, if we can continue to pick up points at the same rate as we've done so far we should be safe from relegation. Based on what I've seen so far it's clear that Premiership survival is the limit of our ambitions this season, and we really need to win our next game, which is against Nottingham Forest, who have spent about £160M on new players since being promoted....

#leeds united #jesse marsch #football #soccer #premier league #premiership #epl #leeds #united #2022

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stopeatingwhales · 3 years

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the 1995 brits x damon albarn & liam gallagher

hhhiiii I'm here with a very cute little fic about the brits!! the idea of writing something with Damon and liam fighting over someone was requested quite a long time ago (sorry it’s taken so long omg) but I loved the idea!! I do hope you all enjoy it as I enjoyed writing it a lot hahah xx

Pairing: 90s damon albarn & 90s liam gallagher x reader

Warnings: nothing, just a little bit of bickering n dat

Word count: 3.057

Requested by anon x

༉‧₊˚✧

Being a part of the madness that adapted the name ‘Britpop’ was truly an experience. Paparazzi at every corner you turn, equipped with the brightest, flashiest cameras, also having the most annoying click noises to the point that after one image you’ve earned yourself a migraine that would last the entirety of the day; parties that would last entire nights, bearing millions of different kinds of drugs - some that hadn’t even been given a name yet, but you’d still give a try anyways, since you’re so high and drunk that you simply lose the intellectual capability to construct decisions, you say fuck it, and get so high to the point that you’ve blacked out in a booth in a bar, with the owner asking you to get out since you’ve been inside for one too many hours after closing time; as well as constant press coverage. With your name plastered over literally every newspaper and music magazine known to man, as well as having your entire life consistently dictated for the entire nation to read about every Sunday morning and indulge themselves into as a form of entertainment, it was what being famous delivered, right on your doorstep at 7 in the morning. Any earlier and you’d feel rude not to give them a cup of tea as a form of dignity and respect towards their sublime dedication to the job. Although it was fun being associated with it all, my band in particular gaining a different form of calidity due to it being a female fronted band, by the time that the entire nation was hooked on this ‘Blur vs. Oasis’ rivalry, it was as if every other britpop band had been washed away from existence, due to eight boys arguing as to whom had the better music. And the better looks, according to Liam Gallagher.

Tonight was the night of the Brit awards, perhaps the most prestigious awards ceremony for music. To be awarded a Brit was probably the largest achievement possible in British music in the form of an award, and it was definitely either going tonight to either Blur or Oasis. The chances that another band, say Pulp, were to get the award, would not only be extremely amusing to see the reactions of the two biggest names in the Britpop game, but would also cause the largest uproar in the nation. It’s either Blur or Oasis. “Their drama is so silly,” laughed Emily, the guitarist in our band whilst flicking through the latest edition of the Sun, the cover of the newspaper being, of course, Liam Gallagher. “They’re literally bickering about who looks the best. How do people find this interesting?”

“Because of how silly it is, people never leave their secondary-school-like selves. Just a bit of fun I guess.” I replied, fixing up my hair in the mirror in front of me. We were currently getting ready to go to the award show, and needing to look your best was an expectation. Though I wasn’t dressed in anything that would result in jaw’s dropping, it was important that I at least appeared somewhat admirable - the entire nation always had their eyes on us, but tonight they were going to see us all, live. Perhaps the reason why bands like Oasis and Blur are so obsessed over nowadays, since all they’ll do is turn up in some flimsy Adidas t-shirt and call that fashion. I suppose scruffy was the new elegant.

“Who do you think they’ll give the award to?” she questioned, still aimlessly flicking through the recycled pages of the magazine. “I think Oasis. Their music is so much better than Blurs.”

“Really? I’d say Blur. They won on top of the pops, so the likelihood of them winning the Brit award is highly likely,” I answered, shuffling away from the strong reflection of myself towards Emily, my eyes quickly scanning the page that she had her eye on currently. “Gosh Liam’s so full of himself.”

“He’s got his eye on you, you know,” She said, shoving the paragraph she had just read in my face of Liam boasting about his little crush he had supposedly gained from watching our latest performance on top of the pops. “Thinks you’re ‘well fit’.”

Scoffing in response, I mumbled back to Emily. “If he thinks that he’s sleeping with me, he’s very deluded.”

By the time we had arrived at the venue, you weren’t able to walk into the entrance without at least 50 cameras blinding your eyes and the shouts of so many begging for you to quickly turn your head and grin - the price for the photo would reach the many thousands. Once walking in, it was less crowded, only having select people by the ground floor, dedicated for musicians and bands, with the occasional interviewer walking past to every circled table, adorned with white cloth and champagne glasses, asking questions about how they’re feeling, who they think may win, and what they thought of the music throughout the past year. What was nice was that people didn’t have that much interaction with one another, just with their groups. It created a sense of formality in the space, which made me feel a bit at ease from the idea of some random row happening in the middle of the floor, most likely between Liam and Damon. The past year in music was truly something. Britpop was at its peak the entirety of the year, with songs like Parklife and Supersonic pouring out of every radio station in Britain that by the end of the year, you had ditched casual radio music and began blasting the classical station. It was a nightmare. Since the fall of grunge subsequent to Cobain’s death the previous year, the talk of any other genre in Britain apart from Britpop didn’t occur. It was as if we were living on this mystical island, miles away from any other music and culture, whilst adorning and obsessing over our own. What was nice about Britpop was that it was a pure celebration of English culture, whether it be a simple Sunday roast, or going to school, they all carried the same ambience of nostalgia and pride - also disregarding whichever band wrote what song.

“Free champagne… Yes please,” said Madeline, the secondary guitarist of the band, whilst heading to the first seat she could sit on, then quickly indulging herself with the first taste of the rich drink. “Oh my gosh it’s heavenly!”

Laughing at her reaction, the rest of the band took a seat around the table and took their first sips of the champagne, which we would all come to find to be indeed heavenly. Small talk was shared here and there with the rest of the group, but overall I stayed silent. In all honesty I found attending award shows was quite boring because if you didn’t end up getting an award, you would essentially be sitting there for two hours doing nothing. Even if you did win an award, it’s simply a minute of glory with the speakers blasting your music, and another minute of all eyes piercing into your soul as you make sentences about your gratitude towards those who had helped you along the way to earn such an achievement. I doubt anybody genuinely liked attending shows like these.

“The champagne is good, yet we don’t get enough for our table,” I complained, grasping my now empty champagne glass and waving it around in the air. “I’m gonna head to the bar to get a refill, anybody want anything?”

After receiving a handful of nos from the rest of the band, I took myself out of my seat and wandered over to the bar, which was empty, perhaps due to the venue not yet being completely filled with all the artists that were set to attend the night. “Just a refill of the champagne, please.” I asked politely, handing the bartender the used glass I had kept in my hand. Whilst waiting, I noticed that Damon was on the other side of the bar, who also didn’t notice me there, until he caught eyes with me.

A grin broke out on his face as I walked over to him. “You alright?” He asked me, quickly thanking the bartender for his drink and turning back to look at me. The height difference between us was evident, but it wasn’t the case of something so dramatic that he was the height of the empire state building and me, just a measly common tower in the city. He looked quite content, his hair scruffy yet neat, along with his outfit being just as I had assumed: a white shirt with jeans, a used pair of Adidas for shoes.

I smiled back at him and nodded. “Suppose you have high hopes for the award tonight.” I said, simultaneously receiving my refill of the beverage I had ordered, followed by my thanks. We stood adjacent, although there was enough distance between us to establish our relationship - mutual acquaintances whom had met every now and again, since they’ve both been dragged into this wormhole of madness. He was quite the opposite in comparison to his rivals, though he himself could be quite bothersome occasionally, he still had a grasp to what those may call sensibility.

“Oh well we’re better than them, aren’t we love?'' He chirped, his head now cocked to the side in a teasing manner. “I’ve heard that you’re rooting for us this year.” He added, a little smirk pasted on his face.

“Do you read every paper you see?” I questioned, my face turning away from him in slight embarrassment. Between us, there was no shared intention for a relationship to stem, though there was definitely a flirtatious tension that followed between us wherever we had met. Whether it be a random photoshoot for a magazine double-spread, or backstage at top of the pops, we always managed to share a chat with one another, and nothing else followed on from then. It was quite sad, because once you’ve established a connection between something you either both disagree or agree with in terms of societal views, something in the press, or life in general, you’re instantaneously cut off and asked to hop onto stage to record a meaningless three-minute performance with fake, plastic instruments which practically mean nothing.

“Well it was nice seeing someone else's face on the papers for once.” He replied, downing his drink, then ushering at the bartender for another. A thing that we both realised was that, between our conversations, we indirectly indicated that we were both there for each other, because we both had a complete understanding towards what may be happening to the other person. It was stressful being in the limelight constantly, and for someone who was the frontman of a band so large, with his face plastered on every magazine cover imaginable, things were bound to be stressful.

Sighing, I turned to face him again. Despite the fact that before I had the ability to respond, our conversation was cut short from a voice shouting my name from behind. “Well if it isn’t bloody Y/N.” the voice said, and from then I instantly knew it was Liam’s. Turning my face away from Damon’s, I locked eyes with Liam. As always, he was dressed in the usual: a parka, with casual jeans. Oh, and don’t forget the Adidas shoes. Even though he and Damon practically hated each other’s guts, they always seemed to have similar fashion senses, but I could never picture Damon in a parka. And I don’t think I even want to.

“How’ve you been love?” He asked, swinging his arm around my shoulder in a warm, but nonchalant manner. Me and Liam had a similar relationship to that of mine and Damons, simply just minusing the sentimentality of it. We were friends, and had come across each other at random parties, which opened the gateway for us to drink and get high together many a time. While he was quite the idiot, he was also a very fun guy to be around, but I knew Damon would never understand that. “And why’re you letting this twat chat to you?”

A laugh escaped Damon’s throat. “I think you’re the only twat here, Liam,” he began, a sigh leaving my mouth as I was trapped in a situation that I could only pray didn’t gain much traction from the rest of the attendees. “Me and Y/N are friends, don’t suppose we’re getting jealous are we?”

Liam’s grip on my shoulder tightened as I stared at his reaction to Damon. I felt quite small in this situation, due to me needing to tilt my head a good amount to properly look at Liam, and knowing if I left it would just erupt chaos and make it worse. “No need for me to be jealous when I know that she wouldn’t want to spend a minute with you in bed you bastard.”

“And you’re so sure about that are you?” Damon replied, amusement laced in his words. “Because you’ve totally spent a minute with her haven’t you?”

“Well I’ve got my arm around her haven’t I? And she’s not stopping me,” Liam argued back, a smirk entwined on his lips. Reaching for my hand, Liam grasped it lightly, then then brought it to his lips, kissing it, before holding it gently. Method of intimidation, perhaps, and though it was sweet, there was a time and place. And this was definitely neither the time, or place. “Who’s the jealous one now, eh?”

“The last I recall, she had hoped that we were winning this year, not you,” He boasted, moving the contents of his drink around whilst grasping it firmly. Whilst it would be something that would offend Liam, he was simply the type of person to not take criticism regardless of whomever it was coming from. I respected him for that. “So much so for a healthy relationship.” Damon mocked, staring into my eyes as a small laugh escaped my lips.

Granted that I had found the argument shared between the pair of them to be extremely silly, it was good entertainment as the time passed before the award show would begin. Watching them both, attempting to throw insults at one another, each one trying to cut a little deeper than the one previous, made me almost laugh at the both of them right there. “You know, it’s so silly that you both think you know me so well to think which one I’d pick from the both of you,” I said, detaching myself from Liam’s embrace and snatching my half-empty glass of champagne. “At this point, it’s neither of you.”

Walking back to my band’s designated table, I quietly took my seat as the show began. “Saw you chatting to Damon,” Emily whispered, raising her eyebrows. “Also saw you grinning like a madwoman.”

“Oh shut up you,” I replied, looking back at the bar to notice that both parties had left, assuming back to their places. “There’s nothing going on between me and Damon- Liam too in fact.”

~~~

As the ceremony went on, the boredom got to us. Even the amount of drinks I had didn’t entertain me, but what could we do, we were stuck in the middle of an award show celebrating music, even though I had largely doubted that the majority of those attending were enjoying themselves. I had no clue who the awards were going to be handed out to, and whether that somebody may be us in a category, but we all knew Blur were going to win something. Yes, Oasis had gained a lot of fame and had become one of the most famous bands in the music scene at the minute, but by the way things had gone for Blur after the release of Parklife, things only seemed to go further up from there. And that was only proven to be truthful, after Blur had left with four different awards.

After Blur had received their fourth award for best British group, we all knew that there was nothing left for Oasis. “They’ll get it all next year, they only debuted this year you know.” I said to the table, who were staring at the four smiley boys on stage as they trotted up to receive their award. I admired Damon as he said his speech, then also turning to look over at Liam, who looked quite evidently pissed off. He was practically drooling in anger from the sight brought to him at that particular moment, and I couldn’t blame him - their band hadn't gone home with one award that night, but neither had ours. “They’ve taken four awards home, isn’t that like, the most anybody has ever taken?”

“Indeed it is,” Madeline replied, taking a sip from her drink. “Must be a good year for them then, eh?”

As I watched the band leave the stage in absolute glee, I stared at Damon as he walked back to his designated seat for the short remainder of the evening. Despite the fact that my band had been sat in our seats the entire evening in complete boredom, just like Oasis and so many other acts that had been nominated for pointless awards, it would be a lie to say that I wasn’t proud of how far Blur as a whole had come and evolved through their music, and especially Damon. From beginning as young, bowl-cut boys only charting so far on top of the pops, to creating songs and melodies that could unite our entire nation, it was impressive.

Damon was the face of Britain at this very moment, and a very good looking one. Once I watched him sit down, he scanned the room for a while until he was able to find where I was sitting, which was parallel to his seat, merely a couple metres away. He connected eyes with me as soon as he found me, also accompanied with a small smirk painted on his expression as he raised his eyebrows and sent me a wink. I simply smiled back at him in response before turning away abruptly, disrupting the little moment we seemingly shared, and though I felt my heart flutter a little, he’s definitely not winning me that easily.

#britpop #fanfic #bandimagines #Liam Gallagher x reader #damon albarn x reader #damon albarn #blur #Liam Gallagher #oasis #blur band #oasis band #my writing #fluff #angst

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