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jemiswumbo · 4 days

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she’s out of her mind

luke castellan x daughter of hades!reader

anon prompt: Hey babes! I saw your post about wanting prompts and I was wondering you could write Luke Castellan x Daughter of Hades! Reader where it's like sunshine (Luke) x grumpy (Reader) trope?

authors note: hello i am back with a small drabble for the cute prompt above! i got drunk off of applebees dollaritas and wrote this in 15mins so do with that information what you will. hope you enjoy! :)

title is from she’s out of her mind by blink-182. lyrics are a lil fitting.

warnings: none? i think? it’s just fluff, i think. sort of.

“Wake up, sunshine.”

You groaned low and deep, releasing a guttural sound full of pure agony. Rolling over on your (extremely warm, cozy, sleep inducing) bed, you came face to face with your boyfriend, Luke Castellan, who was currently opening up the curtains in your cabin.

Being the only child of Hades at the camp, the entire cabin was sparse and empty, save for the corner you called home. There was a bed with black sheets and blanket, a side table full of the few memorabilia you had to your name, and a dresser beside that which held your extensive collection of black clothing. The walls resembled the inner workings of a cavern; slick rock prodded with small bones and beautiful jewels encapsulated the bedroom areas. Sconces held lit torches burning bright with turquoise Greek fire.

Your favourite part of the cabin, though, was the specially-crafted blackout curtains that were typically drawn tight over the windows. Not even a sliver of light could penetrate the thick, black, velvet drapes. That was, until, your idiot boyfriend took it upon himself to draw them open. The harsh blades of sunlight violated your eyes, illiciting your pained groan. You hated it when people interrupted your sleep.

“Luke,” You whined, shoving your face into your pillow, hoping to evade the blinding light. “Let me sleep, please, for the love of the gods.”

“Fuck the gods,” Luke said, and you could hear the smirk in his voice without needing to see his (cute, devilishly handsome) face. “Anyways, it’s 9am! You’ve slept in long enough and I wanna have breakfast with you and your pretty face.” Luke flopped down on the bed beside you and flipped your body back over with ease, in a foolish attempt to force you into the world of the living.

Typical for a child of Death, you kept your eyes squeezed shut and pounded the bedsheet with your fist. “I will literally, genuinely, actually murder you without hesitation if you don’t leave me the fuck alone.”

“That’s no way to talk to your boyfriend.” Luke said, pressed a small kiss to your nose. You swatted him away with anger.

Any other (normal, rational, smart) kid at camp would’ve soiled their pants and fled in terror from such a threat uttered by the one and only daughter of Hades. You were capable of a simple killing — you were graciously bestowed the gift of sucking out the souls of mortals with a mere flick of the wrist — and so it was only logical to fear such a ghastly claim. Luke, however, had released early on in your Camp days that you were full of shit and would never hurt a fly. He took an opportunity to befriend you and you’d been dating for a few years now. You were (truly, madly, deeply) in love with him and yes, despite your immense hatred for morning sunlight, you would never actually hurt him.

“Come on,” he prodded again, cuddling up beside you and tapping your forehead mischievously. You mustered the courage to crack open one eye (barely) and saw him grinning down at you. “Wake up, baby. Let’s get breakfast and then spend the day at the docks. We can swim and sun bathe and have a picnic—“

“Gods, your ambitious today,” you grumbled, rolling back over to face the opposite direction of Luke (and, the open windows), allowing him to grab your waist and pull you up against his chest. “I hate being in the sun. You know this.”

“Yeah, but I like to try new things with you,” Luke said, peppering a few kisses down your jaw and the side of your neck, squeezing his taut arm around your torso. “And I’m dying to see you in a bikini.”

“Perv,” you mumbled, but deep down you felt butterflies erupt in your stomach, causing a crimson blush to bloom over your chest. “Give me another hour to sleep.”

“No,” Luke said, and now it was his turn to groan impatiently. “Please, now, for me? I love you and want to spend time with you.”

“I hate you and want you to leave me alone,” you replied, pulling your fluffy duvet back up over your shoulders. “Bed time.”

“Beach time,” Luke decided. He sat up slightly and ripped the blankets entirely off your form, exposing your body to the cold air of the morning.

You shrieked. “Luke, you asshole—“

Luke jumped out of the bed, smiling wide. He gathered up all the blankets up into his arms, much to your dismay, and held them away from you. You only wore shorts and a tank top to sleep last night, and the chill in the room froze you right to your bones. Luke bundled up the bedding into a ball and fired it across the room. “There, now you’re acclimated.”

“You’re dumb as hell.”

“You are a grouchy, sleepy demon who needs breakfast and vitamin D.”

“Ugh!” You exploded, finally shoving yourself out of bed in a fit of exasperation. Luke had the audacity to applaud you. “Okay, there, I’m up!”

“So proud of you, my sleeping beauty,” Luke remarked. He crossed the room to you and placed a tender kiss to your lips, making sure to nip at your pouty bottom lip.

“Sorry for being rude,” You murmured, after having kissed him back. “I love you. I just don’t love being woken up.”

“I know,” Luke said with a grin. “I actually think you’re cute when your grumpy, so I do it on purpose to bug you.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t stop the small smirk from appearing on your cheeks. “Whatever. You promised breakfast and I’m starving, so let’s go.”

Luke mimicked your playful eyeroll. He took your hand, leading you out the door and towards the dining pavilion.

note 2: hi hi! if you read this and enjoyed it and maybe want to read more from me, i would super appreciate prompts and requests sent to my inbox! can’t guarantee i’ll write them all but i will for sure try my best! thanks for reading! :)

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #pjo #percy jackon and the olympians #luke castellan #jemiswriting

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hey-august · 1 month

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I know I'm pathetic - Pt 1

(Fic tag)

WC: ~450 Warnings for the entire story: NSFW, mdni, Buggy x GN!reader, not an established relationship, dubcon, auralism, masturbation, buggy is a fucking perv, slight degradation kink Tag list: @rorywritesjunk

Title from Pathetic by blink-182

It happened again. Buggy lost his goddamn ear somewhere on the ship. He misplaced the small appendage during the afternoon, some time between bottles three and four. It wasn’t the only bit of himself that he lost, but the only one he wasn’t able to track down hours later.

The crew knew to put his body parts in plain sight whenever they came across abandoned pieces - setting them in a hallway or on a table so they can find their way home. This became a rule after too many hungover mornings were spent playing hide-and-seek. Any crew members that couldn’t find a good place to hide themselves were recruited to find any hidden body parts littered around the ship.

After The Great Search for Buggy’s Middle Finger, came The Great Ice-Out of Captain Shithead. Buggy barely made it through half the day before he had an unprecedented meltdown.

Cabaji eventually caved and told the distraught clown that the only way to get the crew to acknowledge him beyond following orders was to deal with his rogue body parts on his own. The captain only agreed when Cabaji had enough of the emotional outburst and dismissive arguments about shared responsibilities.

Buggy was still prowling the ship late at night, shoulders tight and fists clenching and unclenching with each step. He was looking and listening for anything that would help him find his fucking ear. Every so often he heard something, but not enough to figure out where it was. Until he could hone in and concentrate, he wouldn’t be able to pull himself together.

His head was beginning to ache with how hard he was focusing on the muffled thuds and thumps that had been sounding off for the past few minutes. Finally, Buggy heard something different. It was a little more crisp, but he couldn’t place what the sound was. Maybe it was the ship creaking.

“Oh fuck…”

He recognized that voice. Your voice. Where were you? Who were you talking to? Did you find his ear?

“Fuck!”

Your voice was still muffled, but it sounded like you were talking softly. Buggy couldn’t hear anything or anyone else. Taking a chance, he hustled to where your room was. As he got closer, the pirate felt the invisible thread that stitched his body together get stronger. His ear must be in your room. Fucking finally.

This wouldn’t be the first time he wound up somewhere odd. Especially with something small, it was easy for little bits and pieces to get caught up in and carried away. Swaddled in laundry, rolling with heavy waves, bumped and jostled until they were trappedin some nook.

With one hand raised to knock on your door and the other reaching for your doorknob, a new sound stopped all of Buggy’s movements.

#eventual smut #buggy x reader #buggy the clown x reader #buggy the clown #buggy x you #x reader #buggy op #opla buggy #one piece buggy #hey-august i know i'm pathetic

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meowmeowriley · 2 months

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Elder Emo

Ghost had been lost in thought, planning out his lessons for the following day, when he'd passed a room in the barracks and faintly heard music. Paramore? Normally he'd hear rock, pop, or occasionally something in Japanese. Not emo. Not what he'd been expecting, but a pleasant little throwback for him. He smiled to himself as he made to walk away, taking a mental note to pull up his old playlist and get lost in nostalgia later. But then he caught a bit of the conversation happening in the room.

"No she didn't tell me what it was all for, I stole it, dipshit."

"Why does she need 700 different eyeliners?"

"Are they different? Or is she just a hoarder?"

"Nah, mate. Some are like sticks, crayons, others are liquid. This one says eyeliner, but it looks like the eyeshadow stuff."

"That eyeshadow stuff is useless. Comes off too easily."

The two men were crowded around one's bed, it had been littered with a bunch of makeup, and they didn't seem to know what each was for.

"This is stupid."

"You said you wanted to finally have your emo phase, this is where it starts." The second man picked up a bottle of liquid eyeliner and leaned in close to the mirror, posed to paint his lower waterline with it. Ghost could no longer keep quiet.

"That's a mistake." His voice cause both recruits to jump, scrambling to salute. He rolled his eyes, but returned the gesture, if only to release the two.

He approached the bed scattered with makeup. Ghost couldn't say that he'd ever spoke to either of them, but he'd be damned if he didn't set them on the right path before they fucked themselves over here. "The liquid is for around your eyes, gives a bolder look than the stick. It's not for your waterline, you'll give yourself an eye infection like that." He handed the first soldier his choice in liner from the menagerie before them. "The liquid is bolder, but it smears, not smudges. If you're going for emo, you'll want a smudged look, the stick is better. Lay it on thick, and use your fingers to spread it around and smudge it out. And if it says waterproof, believe it. You'll need makeup remover to get that off." He said that last bit pointedly. If it weren't for regs, he'd let them just leave it like he had. Day old eyeliner that you slept in after a concert always looked so much cooler than when it had been freshly applied, at least in his opinion. Then another thought occurred to him. "Who'd you steal all this from?"

"Uhm... my sister... sir." The first man admitted sheepishly.

"Hmmm." Better a sibling than another soldier. "Give it back. You're in the army. You've been issued war paint, use that." He shrugged. Then added "I do."

The pair were quiet, clearly still not quite sure what was happening. "As you were." Ghost nodded and started to take his leave.

The second cleared his throat. "Uh... ahem... any uh... any music recommendations?"

Ghost turned in the doorway. He thought for a moment, and then "Well, you're listening to Paramore. If you want music from the same time, there's always Hawthorne Heights or Blink-182. You want something heavier look into Breaking Benjamin. Or more upbeat go for All Time Low. If you want something newer, Twenty One Pilots just released some new songs, or there's TX2, who draws a lot of inspiration from the greats. That's a start."

Both men smiled. The first spoke up. "Thank you, sir. This'll be a lot easier with an elder emo around."

Elder emo? Who- oh. Ohhhhh. When? How did that happen? He wasn't supposed to make it this far. Huh.

"Anytime." He nodded as he left them. He tried not to let his emotions show as he made his way down the hall, but internally he was brimming with pride. He'd made it so much further than anyone had ever thought, especially himself. It took a couple of baby emo's for him to see it, but he'd made it. He was still here. Despite the odds.

#call of duty #modern warfare #simon ghost riley #emo ghost #simon ghost riley is an elder emo #ill die on this hill #elder emo #text post #fanfic

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totallyredacted · 1 month

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Hi my name is MJ-182 and I have short ebony black hair (the origins of my name are heavily disputed) with pink tips that sticks straight up and bright yellow eyes like limpid piss and a lot of people tell me I look like Incredible Polo (AN: if u don't know who he is get da hell out of here!). I'm not related to blink-182 but I wish I was because he's a major fucking hottie. I'm a beat but I don’t have assigned sector colors. I have pale white skin. I'm also an alien, and I’m currently living in the recently liberated city of Riviera in France where i’m part of the ninth generation (my age is classified). I'm a scemo but not the weird kind (in case you couldn't tell) and I wear mostly black. I love the Wekiddy district and I buy all my clothes from there. For example today I was wearing a black t-shirt with a cartoon alien face on it, a purple striped long-sleeve shirt, blue jeans, and purple and green sneakers. I was wearing purple goggles with red lenses and black eyeliner. I was walking outside the fallen Cumulor. The smoke was still clearing so there was no sun, which I was very happy about. A lot of Rivierans stared at me. I put up my middle finger at them.

“Hey MJ!” shouted a voice. I looked up. It was…. El Cool P!

“What’s up Cool P?” I asked.

“Nothing.” he said shyly.

But then, I heard my friends call me and I had to go away.

#incredibox fanart #incredibox wekiddy #my immortal #incredibox #wekiddy #mj 182 #wekiddy fanart

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clydesavage-thefox147 · 3 months

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Calling all Prinxiety Shippers, this analysis is for you!💜❤️

So, I have had my eyes set on Virgil's Spotify Playlist for a while now. And a few songs have caught my attention that I'd like to talk about.

The one in particular that I will discuss here is "Sally's Song" covered by Amy Lee from Evanescence, originally by Catherine O-Hara. A classic song from the even more classic movie The Nightmare before Christmas. Now, it's understandable why Virgil would have this song on there. It's from one of his favorite movies, it's a designated emo staple with lines like "We can live like Jack and Sally if we want" in Blink-182's "I Miss You", and overall it's Tim Burton which he's shown interest in as well. But, I wonder why this song in particular. He could've picked "This is Halloween" or "Jack's Lament" but..he picks "Sally's Song"? This isn't the only time he's been affiliated with this song either. In the 2020 Holiday Show, Thomas covered it in reference to Virgil's celebration of the holidays.

It's been stated that the songs on each playlist are on there for a reason. Some songs on each are directed specifically at another Side. I think I know who's being directed at here from Virgil's POV. Think about it, Sally is very similar to that of Virgil. Both are restless and want freedom despite the risks, they are both caution and concerned for others especially those they love, and just their overall aesthetics aline with a stitch work-ragdoll like appearance. The song in question is about Sally showing her concern for Jack. It briefly touches on her need for freedom and inclusion, but it's mostly about her love and consideration for Jack. Hell, she sang it right after Jack took off on his Christmas exploits that she knew would fail and tried to warn him. She thinks the love is one-sided, she gives up in believing it'll happen. However, it was reprised in the end with both of them admitting their love for each other.

Who is Jack in this situation? You could say Jack is a bit like Virgil in wanting to move away from scaring people all the time..but Jack's demeanor and personality isn't very Virgil like. He's ambitious, overly I might add. He's desperate, he's dedicated, he suffered an identity crisis, he's associated with royal standing as the Pumpkin King, and his voice is rather regal. Who does that sound like to you? Roman.

Sally's concern for Jack's actions failing or getting him hurt ties in with Virgil's behavior as anxiety. One major thing is concern for Roman being too forceful in his desperation for a boyfriend for Thomas could've got him rejected or hurt. This was shown in FWSA..the same episode where a sticker of Jack and Sally peaked both of their interest. They both have shown a love for this movie, so much so that Roman wanted Virgil's posters of it back in Accepting Anxiety part 2.

Sure, you could say that this could be directed at Nico but Virgil's playlist was debut in April of 2020, FWSA wasn't released until October. Sure, it could have been foreshadowing but I highly doubt it since the song itself shows that the person the narrator wanted in question, was already known to them and their concern for them was justified. You could say it's directed at Thomas, but this song is too romantic in its undertones to be that, even if it said "friend" in the lyrics...Roman called Virgil "Friendo" (so did Janus as Patton but that's besides the point).With lines like "What will become of my dear friend, where will his actions lead us then" could be reference to how Roman's overambitious behavior and reckless actions could be a problem. Stating a question Virgil was asked back in 2018 at live Vidcon QnA, Virgil did say he liked Roman's ambition..but wasn't sure he wanted that in his life. Maybe he's willing to take the chance now?

So, it's fair to say that "Sally's Song" is directed at Roman. They both are carbon copies of the characters, they both love the film, and the overall hints of this song and film in regards to them are too obvious to miss. ❤️💜

Seems like Virgil wants to live like Jack and Sally with Roman. 💜❤️

P.S: we so need an official Virgil cover of Sally's Song..like come on 😁

#sanders sides #sanders sides fandom #thomas sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #fanders #prinxiety

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swissboyhisch · 1 year

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Support My Girl

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x Moyle!Reader

Summary: The final dance concert comes around and you're lucky to have such a supportive family

Word Count: 2304

Warnings: Mentions of nudity

A/N: I love this and ended up getting carried away

THE MASTERLIST JOIN THE TAGLIST HOCKEY DISCORD

Tonight was the student dance showcase for your college. It’s a concert put on by the students for friends, family and faculty. At 7 tonight, the curtains rise in the theatre on campus. You had already had the matinee show earlier this morning and it went smoothly. No wig, makeup or costume malfunctions thankfully.

As the top student in the dance course, you had the most dances during the concert out of all the students. With 2 dances per class you take as per the course requirements, you were already up to 12 dances. Some classes then do whole class dances. Add in the fact, selected students get solos, duos or trios if the professors so choose.

Before the show, there was a cocktail hour in the lobby. It was mandatory for the dancers to attend. Every year, scouts attend the cocktail hour and night performance in hopes of finding dancers to add to their tally. A few of the previous year’s seniors are now on broadway. You didn’t know what you were hoping for.

You were lucky, your boyfriend has finished his season and was back in Michigan for the show. But not only was he in the crowd tonight, but so is his family. Jack had also finished his season and came back for the summer.

“Are you ready?” You heard his voice echo through your apartment.

One final look in the mirror to smooth out your dress and you were out of there. It was your favourite formal dress. Instead of messing around with your hair for every dance, you had a few wigs throughout the night. For now, you were wearing a short black hair look. Your stage makeup was a smokey look. The dress you chose was picked with the thought of the makeup in mind.

You made sure to grab everything before exiting your room. The only thing with you was your makeup case for touch ups throughout the show, your phone, charger and your wallet. All your costumes, shoes and accessories were still at the theatre after the morning show. It was easier that way.

Quinn looked up from his phone as you walked into the lounge room. He was dressed in a pair of black dress pants and a button down with a tie that matched the colour of your dress. His hair neatly tussled in his beautiful natural way. His eyes wandered down your figure, taking in your appearance. “I like you with short hair.”

“So you want me to start wearing wigs more often?” You laugh.

“No, I like your hair how it is naturally.”

The pair of you made your way to the car where Quinn would drive you over to campus. As the passenger, you got to control the music. What was better than listening to Blink-182 to hype you up. You arrived a little earlier than the cocktail hour so you could put your stuff at your mirror. After years of dancing, you had a particular way of setting up your makeup. Quinn waited while you ducked into the green rooms. The last thing to do was to make sure everything was in place just how you like it. So none of your quick changes would be impaired due to a misplaced accessory. After you had done that, you and Quinn meandered your way to the lobby of the theatre where they had a bar during events. Both of you ordered a soda while you waited for the others to arrive. Of course the first to arrive from the family was Luke, just finishing his freshman at UMich. But in tow behind the tallest Hughes, was the majority of his teammates. Including some of your classmates. Oh and can’t forget your older brother.

“Ayyyy,” Nolan grinned as the group neared. He held out his fist for you to fist bump. Something the pair of you have been doing since you were kids. Nolan was first to pull you into a hug, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You are going to kick ass tonight.”

Luke nodded in agreement as he came to wrap his arms around you after Nolan was finished. The freshman was already a foot taller than you. It made you laugh at the boys’ comments. “It’s not a competition guys.”

Quinn rolled his eyes at the two of you. “It’s a showcase, not a competition.”

“You’ll kill it,” Luke smiles down at you.

Being Quinn’s girlfriend since freshman year, you had promised their mum to look after Luke when he finally got to UMich. And look after him you did. You were pretty sure you cooked at least three times a week for Luke, Nolan and at least two of their teammates. In return, the boys were alway looking after you. And their way of doing that was making sure everyone knew you were UMich team’s captain’s sister and dating THE Quinn Hughes. Star defenseman for the Vancouver Canucks.

“And the best Hughes is here,” A voice interrupted.

You looked past Quinn where Jack was approaching with Ellen and Jim, the boys’ parents. “Yeah of course they are, Mama El is here.”

Jack pouted as everyone went around for hugs. Ellen made sure to squeeze you affectionately, whispering about how proud she is to be here for something other than hockey. It’s the first time she and Jim had been on campus since the Frozen Four Championship. The group huddles around a couple of barrels placed around the foyer to act as tables.

“Miss Moyle,” Your theatre professor greets. “I have someone I’d like to introduce you to.”

Quinn stayed beside you as your professor guided you to where another one of your professors and a couple of well dressed people were chatting to them. After introductions, and the scouts getting past their awe, they talked about their companies and businesses. Luckily for the pair of you, one of your fellow dancers pulled you away to head backstage. With final goodbyes, and many good luck wishes, you and Claire went backstage.

You stripped off your dress and hung that up. First dance concert was “A Little Party Never Killed Nobody’ and the troupe consisted of the top 21 students of the course. Your costume was a sparkly flapper dress. Once you made sure everything was perfect, feather and all, Claire, Maddie and yourself made your way to the stage.

The large curtain was down blocking the stage from the view of the audience. Dancers were chatting between each other as they stretched and warmed up their bodies. Yourself and the girls found a free spot and started doing your own thing. You made sure to stretch your legs and back.

“Guys,” one of the student photographers that’s hanging around called to the Opening troupe. “Can I get a picture please?!”

As a group, you all decide on doing the final poses of the dance for the picture. You were the point of the triangle and on the ground with Maddie and Claire behind you. After a hot minute you all relaxed and went back to stretching. The 5-minute warning was called and the lights behind the curtain dimmed.

You moved into my starting position which was at the front with Claire. Both of you mirrored each other for the starting count. Julia, one of the performing arts students, stepped on stage to start off the night. Julia was a senior student who volunteered for the position of MC for the two shows. The lights dim backstage, and everyone gets in position as we hear Julia’s heels in front of the curtain.

“Good morning all, and welcome to the annual dance concert held by the Arts Students of the University of Michigan,” Julia welcomes. “The amazing show you will witness today is by the students. The dancers are the senior students of the dance department. Costumes, accessories and props were hand made by Fashion and Theatre Departments. Lighting, sound and tech are all done by the senior students of the Theatre and Production departments.”

The audience clapped and cheered.

“Before we start, please ensure mobile devices are turned off during the performance.”

There was a moment of silence for people to follow Julia’s words.

Julia hums appreciatively. “Thank you. Now onto the main event. You will see 8 different styles of dance displayed today. Acrobatics, Ballet, Contemporary, Hip Hop, Jazz, Slow Modern, Tap and Theatre all included. To kick off a killer show are the top 21 students of the dance department. They come from a range of styles. Please welcome to the stage opening with ‘A Little Party Never Killed Nobody’.”

With those words, it becomes pitch black behind the curtain as the group eagerly awaits Julia to step off stage and for the curtain to rise. Everyone was as still as a statue when the curtain began to lift. The music started and lights started dancing around the stage as you started dancing. Every student loved dance so the passion showed within their moves.

The curtain closed for the last time of the night and all of you laid on the floor. Every single one of the students were exhausted after the last week of late night rehearsals. One by one each got up and went to their green rooms to start the process of cleaning up. First, you changed into a cute playsuit you had stashed for this very moment. You then shoved all your makeup into the bag and all your shoes into your dance bag you had brought earlier. Not bothering to sort them out. All of your costumes were put back into the garment bags they came in originally with the accessories all sorted into the correct bags. With your bag over your shoulder, you piled the costumes over your arm.

“Need help?” Ellen offers from the door.

“Yes please,” you sigh. You hand her the majority of the costumes. “Thank you.”

“No problem.”

Ellen led the way out of backstage and through the crowd of family and friends waiting for all the dancers. The first person you spy was Quinn standing with a large bouquet of your favourite flowers. Luke grabbed the rest of your costumes and dance bag.

“You were absolutely amazing,” Quinn compliments, pulling you in for a kiss. After you pull away, he hands you the bouquet and turns you to where you finally see Nolan standing with your mother.

“Oh!” You grin at the sight of your family. She embraces you, careful of the flowers in your arm. “I’ve missed you.”

“Beautiful,” Your mum smiles, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“Thank you for coming,” You mumble to her.

She waves off your words. “I’ll always come to your dance concerts. Can we get photos?”

Quinn and yourself agree with your mum and Ellen’s request and pose with the bouquet. Then it rotates out. Jack and Luke pop in at one point. You and Nolan get photos together for your mum. Yourself and all the Hughes family. You know how parents are. Oh and can’t forget one with you and all the team that had come to support you.

You and Quinn head to his car with everything in split between the pair of you. After the boot was filled with all of your gear, the car door was opened for you, allowing you to slide in and finally relax. Your body ached and needed to have a shower before you finally could go to bed.

You don’t even remember falling asleep in the car though. Next thing you know Quinn is shaking you awake telling you you were home. Neither of you bothered with all your stuff in the back. It was easy enough to pull out all the costumes tomorrow. You were too tired. With your wallet and phone in hand, Quinn and yourself head straight to your bathroom to shower. Like the amazing boyfriend he was, Quinn helped you undress and take out all the pins that were left in your hair.

“Are you sure you wanted to shower? I can draw a bath for you if you really want.”

You just shake your head in response to Quinn’s offer. Without saying a word, he got the shower ready for you two and even dimmed the lights. Like earlier in the day, you help each other wash. Shower time was one of both of yours’ favourites. It was a moment to yourselves without interruption.

After the shower, you went to slip one of Quinn’s old UMich shirts over your body when his hands stopped you. His fingers wrapped around your wrists, halting your movement. He was naked as well as he lifted you up and slid you right under the covers.

“I just wanna be close,” Quinn mumbles as he climbs in beside you.

Quinn’s arms wrap around your body and drag you to lay half on top of him. You barely had the energy to move your arms at this point. You could feel the calloused fingers stroking up and down your back. He then brushed his finger through your hair every now and then as well.

“Thank you for coming tonight,” You whisper into the darkness, turning your head to press a kiss to Quinn’s jawline.

He chuckles, “Of course I was going to support my girl as she showed everyone how amazing of a dancer she is.”

A giggle escapes your lips as you try to snuggle further into Quinn. At this point, if you got any closer, you’d be one person. For the first time in two months, you think you could finally fully relax without anything but Quinn on your mind. Quinn’s hand massaging your sore muscles felt like heaven. It was also making you sleepy.

“Just go to sleep baby girl,” He mumbled, pressing multiple kisses to your face.

TAG LIST

@findapenny @mp0625 @hischierhaze @11zegras @lvrzegras @francesfarhadi @cixrosie @daisysthings

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rosielou94 · 7 months

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Spare Keys - Angel Reyes x Reader

Summary: In the middle of the night, Angel needs you to take his pain away.

Warnings: Pure angst

Angel knows he shouldn’t be here; he knows he should turn around and go home. It’s 2:00am and he’s drunk, the kind of drunk where people make fucked up decisions. He’s no stranger to fucked up decisions though; he seems to make nothing but.

He pulls the keys out of his pocket, squinting his eyes to better see the lock as he tries to place the key inside. “Fuck sake,” he muttered, his vision so blurry he can’t quite line up the key. It rattles around the lock a few times, before sliding out of his sloppy grip and onto the floor. He slumped forward, his forehead hitting the front door with a thud. He was tired, so tired. He knew he should go home, but he couldn’t face the quiet. He didn’t want to be on his own, he needed someone there to quieten the demons. He picked up the keys and tried the lock again, more desperate this time, but he was too drunk to see straight. It was too quiet at home, there would be too much time for him to sit and think. Angel hit the door with his fist, angry drunken tears stinging his eyes. A gulping sob escaped him as he hit the door again, defeated. He’d make his way to Vikki’s, get a girl for the night instead. It was the last thing he wanted, but anything to avoid being on his own. He thumped the door one more time in frustration and turned to leave.

“What the fuck, Angel?” Your front door swung open, and you stood in the doorway, your voice thick with sleep and your hair a wild mess. You were dressed in a pair of black shorts and a Blink 182 t-shirt, from a concert you’d been to together a few years back. Angel had bought you that t-shirt and hoisted you onto his shoulders so you could get a better view, smiling as you screamed every word to every song at the top of your lungs. He loved you in that shirt. You stood, staring daggers at him, arms folded and foot tapping impatiently. You were waiting for an answer.

“S’in the neighbourhood,” Angel slurred, tripping over his own feet and he turned back towards you. “Thought I’d check in.” You looked at him with pity. What you wouldn’t give to know what was going on in that man’s head. He looked a state; he’d clearly been fighting again, as was evident from the black eye and blood crusted around his nose. He stank of booze and cigarettes and his eyes struggled to focus on one spot. You stood aside, motioning for him to come in. “Yeah, yeah,” you sighed, “that’s what you always say. Now come inside before you piss my neighbours off.”

Angel practically fell through the door, catching himself at the last minute on the arm of your sofa. He flopped forward into the mass of scatter cushions you insisted on having, inhaling the scent of your perfume that lingered. Fuck, he missed you. He was vaguely aware of the tap running and a glass being pressed into his hands. “Drink,” you told him, as you unlaced and removed his boots. He gulped down the water, spilling half of it down his front. You shook your head, taking the empty glass from him and setting it down. It was like looking after a child. “You need to stop using my key, Angel,” you sighed. You couldn’t quite bring yourself to ask for it back, though. As big of a pain in the ass as he was, you couldn’t bear the thought of not seeing him anymore. Even if the only time he came over was in the middle of the night, drunk out of his mind. “I know,” he mumbled, “S’fucked up.”

You and Angel had been friends for years, the friendship slowly turning into something more. You’d never quite made it official, neither of you wanting to voice your feelings officially in case you messed it up. Six months ago, you’d given him the spare keys to your apartment, cementing your relationship without physically saying the words. Things had been great, but 6 weeks ago, Angel broke it off, with no explanation, no reasoning, nothing. You’d be heartbroken, not understanding what you’d done or what had gone wrong. Since then, Angel would turn up most weekends, drunk. Too drunk to get a reasonable explanation from him, but you could never bring yourself to make him leave. You loved him so damn much.

“Let’s get you to bed,” you whispered, hauling the burly biker off your sofa and along the hall to your bedroom. Angel rolled into bed, not bothering to remove his clothes or his kutte. His eyes were heavy were sleep, the beginnings of a hangover headache starting to pulse in his temples. He pulled you into bed with him, gripping you tight, inhaling the smell of your shampoo and your fresh sheets. Fuck, he missed this smell. “M’sorry,” he whispered, tears wetting his cheeks. You wiped them away, your own eyes stinging with the tears you didn’t want to shed. “Why, Angel?” you whispered back, stroking his sweat dampened hair away from his forehead. “Why’d you leave me?” It was a question you’d asked yourself a thousand times, but you could never figure out the answer. You’d been so good together. “I’ve done shit,” he mumbled, “bad shit.” Fresh tears poured down his cheeks and you brushed these away, kissing his cheeks to ease his pain.

You knew his life as a biker wasn’t squeaky clean, but your love for him outweighed all else. This man lying in your bed was broken beyond measure. You knew you couldn’t fix him, but in the dead of night, as he lay sleeping next to you, the only time he seemed to be peaceful nowadays, you could cling to him and pretend he was still yours. That’s why you’d never take your spare keys back.

#angel reyes #angel reyes x reader #angel reyes x you #mayans mc #angel reyes fic

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iri-desky · 2 months

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Hey Alien Stage nation.

I won't wanna add salt to the wound or anything but.

The Song "I miss you" by Blink-182 could work for both Till singing to Mizi or Ivan singing about Till.

Perfectly. Please consider claiming this song. Please.

I'd like to elaborate:

"Hello there, the angel from my nightmare. The shadow in the background of the morgue." It would describe how the memory of Mizi is haunting Till, or how Till continues to probe Ivan's mind, no matter how out of reach he becomes. It's his love that hurts him; the "deep obsession with undertones of nausea"

"Where are you? And I'm so sorry. I cannot sleep, I cannot dream tonight. I need somebody and always, this sick strange darkness, comes creeping in so haunting every time." A line describing both Till and Ivan's sick obsessions with their respective love interests, but sick less in the sense of "Disgusting interests" but more "I think of you so much that it makes me ill."

"And as I stare I counted the webs from all the spiders, catching things and eating their insides...like indecision to call you, and hear your voice of treason, will you come home and stop this pain tonight? Just stop this pain tonight." 'Your voice of treason' could reflect cure's line regarding drowning in your lover, and how you don't care if they hurt you, you just want them here. And "come home and stop this pain tonight" could reflect how Mizi's fate is uncertain to Till, which absolutely destroys his psyche; conversely, in Ivan's view, it reflects how he just wants Till to see him and come for him, "come home", and end all that yearning he just knows deep inside will never end.

And last, but NOT LEAST...

"Don't waste your time on me, you're already a voice inside my head."

Till is starting to give up on Mizi, and at this point he just is starting to resign himself, asking Mizi not to waste her time on him; after all, he's already gaining hallucinations has gone too insane over her, she's already a voice in his head that's torturing him already. As for Ivan, he's regretfully accepted that Till will never love him back, so he tells him not to waste his precious time on him and thus pursue his own life and freedom, telling him that he's gone insane enough thinking and dreaming of him that Till is still on his mind, torturing him just as much as mizi is torturing Till as a voice in his head. He's gone insane over him, and he just his setting him free.

*runs away*

#Alien stage #Ivantill #Mizitill #Tillmizi #Alnst #Alien stage round 6 #alien stage till #Alien stage Ivan #Alien stage mizi

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bratshaws · 9 months

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through the hourglass 219. brb x oc

a/n: no rooster in this one but for a good reason (comments and reblogs are super welcome and encouraged!)

pairing: plus size!oc x rooster

warnings: none uwu

goodness gracious (pls read this one to know more what this fic is about!!)

chapter

/180/181/182/183/184/185/186/187/188/189/190/191/192/193/194/195/196/197/198/199/200/201/202/203/204/205/206/207/208/209

/210/211/212/213/214/215/216/217/218

(pls let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! )

taglist: @mirandastuckinthe80s @roosterschanelslut @wiipes @lcahwriter @novastories @gretagerwigsmuse @frenchtoastix @lizzie-rdj @fanboyluvr @atarmychick007 @comebacktoearthpls

@peachiicherries @mak-32 @lizziespidiepridie @roosterswifey @ollyoxenfrees @piceous21 @sqrlgrl22 @hofficoffi @lexhalstead3 @lorilane33 @legendarydreamersharkparty @luckyladycreator2

@emilybradshaw @j-6o @louisahale @leobabbyyy @booklover2sblog @winter-run @ktjmac @graciereads @bigpoppajes @taytaylala12

@caitsymichelle13 @becks-things @caatheeriinee07 @fanboyswhore9 @jesfreedark @katiemcrae @lilmonstrjedi @hobiismyhopeu @teacupsandtopgun @insominac23 @gh0stsgoodgirl @mygyn @chavivaelisheva @kmc1989 @enchantingharmonyalpaca

She missed the Hard Deck, truly, she really missed this place. She runs her palms over the wood, nicked because of drunk patrons or just her and Shells carrying heavy stuff inside only for Penny to sigh when she notices it. In reality, she knew her maternity leave was still going, but she’d love to return.

Maybe that’s why Penny asked her to come right?

To return?

Not that she’d mind waiting a bit longer, but her mind needed a bit of a break from the constant fear and anxiety that climbed up her brain like a spider monkey ready for a bite…weirdly specific. She left Nikki with Michael - ‘I’m going to take her bank robbing’ ‘Michael,no’- while she came over, hopefully it wouldn’t be long, Mike had no work and Hannah was going to show up later to check on him so her daughter was safe.

Beatrice looked up at the door, blinking when she noticed a camera looking down at her, the whirring of the zoom hitting her ears before it turned away. Beatrice then walked inside, inhaling the smell of known lemon scented products hitting her nose, she remember how that smell used to burn her nose when she started, “Hello?” she calls, placing her bag on one of the seats as she walks further.

She could hear the ice machine on the back,followed by a quiet - yet known - curse, “Shells?’ she calls, looking in the direction the voice came from, “You here?”

“Yeah!” her friend replied, “Can you help me with this? This ice machine is making me regret ever ordering it.”

She couldn’t lift heavy stuff and she voiced it to Shells, only for her friend to reply, “It’s nothing like that! Come on! Rooster won’t kill me because of it.” and so she went. There were new glasses on the shelves, new mugs - undoubtedly some were broken in her absence - and a brand new keg in the back. One she couldn’t help but admire it.

But as Beatrice approached the location where the ice machine was, she just stared at the thing…it was open, very open and Shells was crouched next to it, “...hi…” she points to it, “Are you…fixing it?”

Shells, crouched beside the open ice machine, looked up from her task when she heard Beatrice's voice. Her eyes widened in mild surprise, and a bright smile crossed her face. She wiped her hands on a nearby rag before standing up.

"Hey, you made it!" Shells exclaimed, her tone a mixture of genuine pleasure and slight relief. "Yeah, I'm trying to fix this contraption," she gestured to the open ice machine with a chuckle. "I mean, I didn't want to bother you, but I've been wrestling with it for a while now, and I thought maybe your expert eye could spot what's wrong."

“My…expert eye?’

“I also wanted to gossip,come on.”

Beatrice couldn't help but laugh at Shells' admission. She approached the ice machine, her hands instinctively moving to her hips, "I’m not the best at this,Shells,I’m not sure what I’m looking at.," Beatrice said, her tone lighthearted. She bent down to peer into the machine, her fingers tracing over the exposed components. “In fact,I don’t even know why you called me when Penny could do it.”

Shells made a noise through her nose, lying down on the floor to unscrew something out of Beatrice’s sight, "Well," Shells began, her voice slightly muffled as she worked, "Penny's great with tech stuff, but she's been busy with some security upgrades around here. Plus, I want your company."

As Shells continued to tinker with the ice machine, Beatrice couldn't help but feel a sense of nostalgia wash over her. The familiar scent of the bar, the sound of Shells cursing playfully, and the sight of the Hard Deck's interior all brought back memories of her time here.

"So, how's everything been going?" Beatrice asked, her tone casual. "While I've been... away."

Shells glanced over at Beatrice as she continued her work. "Oh, you know, the usual. We've had some rowdy patrons, a few broken glasses, and one memorable night when someone decided to try their hand at bartending, aunt Penny tossed him out. Let's just say it was an adventure."

Beatrice chuckled at the mental image of Rooster behind the bar. "I can only imagine. And what about you, Shells? How have you been holding up?"

Shells paused in her work, looking thoughtful for a moment. "Honestly, it's been a bit different without you around," she admitted. "But we've managed. Penny's been a huge help, and Jessie too but…It's not the same, though."

Beatrice smiled warmly, touched by Shells' words. "I've missed all of you too," she confessed. "But you know,” she shrugs, “I can’t come back so soon.”

“Yeah,I know.”

‘I thought Penny wanted to talk to me too?”

Shells made a face, then let out a ‘oh!’ “Yeah,something about,” and she tugs a wire from the outside, holds it in front of her eyes and mutters ‘eh,we won’t need it’ before tossing it away, “About something she saw? Not sure,she didn’t tell me.”

“Something she saw?’

“Yeah,’ she gestures around the bar, “I’m sure you noticed the amount of new cameras we got all over, aunt Penny is getting…a bit paran-well, not paranoid. I think she’s being careful, more than normal. Those corpo guys really fucked her mind up.”

"Yeah, I saw them," Beatrice said, her expression thoughtful. "I guess it makes sense, especially with everything that happened. But if Penny wants to talk to me about it, I'm all ears."

Shells nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I think she just wants to fill you in on what's been going on, get your perspective maybe." she shrugs, “Dunno.”

Beatrice considered this for a moment. She knew that her time away had created a gap in her knowledge about the bar's operations and the current state of affairs. It might be a good opportunity to catch up and see how she could help, even if she wasn't quite ready to return to work full-time.

Or how she could help in any way.

"Alright, I'll talk to Penny when I get the chance," Beatrice said with a determined nod. "In the meantime, let's see if we can figure out what's wrong with this ice machine. Two heads are better than one, right?"

Shells grinned. "Absolutely. And if all else fails, we can always call in the professionals."

Beatrice chuckled. "You mean Penny?”

“Yeah, of course.”

As Beatrice and Shells continued to work on the ice machine, the sounds of laughter and camaraderie filled the Hard Deck once more. It felt good to be back, even if it was just for a visit, and Beatrice couldn't help but feel a deep happiness in being around the same surroundings as before.

She sits on one of the chairs and helps Shells by handing her over tools while watching - ‘you are not going to lie down or do anything, just stay put will you?- hands on her knees and head tilted as she paid attention to what was going on, “So, besides that, how’s your life?’

“Wha?”

“You know, your life,” she smiles, “With Bob, how are you two?”

Shells whole demeanor appeared to change, which was odd because she never seemed nervous talking about Bob, “Well,” she laughs nervously, “He uh, mentioned kids a few weeks back?”

“Oh?”

“Yep.” Shells mutters, “I told him that,well,kids aren’t in my schedule right now and honestly I thought he felt the same way about it. Then we uh…had a bit of an argument? And now I’m just, staying with Penny for a little bit.” considering how much Shells loved Bob it was surprising how she wasn’t just breaking down and crying.

Even more surprising was that she didn’t call Bea! She parted her lips, “Shells! Why didn’t you tell me??”

Shells, still focused on the ice machine, sighed. "I didn't want to bother you with my problems, Bea. You've got enough on your plate with Nikki and the twins and everything else."

Beatrice reached out and gently placed a hand on Shells' shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze. "Shells, you're not bothering me. We're friends, remember? I want to know what's going on in your life, especially when it comes to something as important as this."

Shells finally turned to look at Beatrice, her eyes filled with a mix of gratitude and sadness. "I know, but I didn't want to add to your worries. And honestly, I didn't know what to do. I care about Bob a lot, but I'm not ready for kids, not yet."

Beatrice nodded in understanding. "It's okay to have different priorities and timelines," she said gently. "You and Bob just need to have an honest conversation about what you both want and where you see your future together."

Shells nodded, her shoulders sagging with relief. "I know you're right.I know that…we just,didn’t come to a consensus, per se.” she flexes she fingers, “Also…it’s kinda weird being the one friend without kids, yknow? I mean,I love being the crazy aunt, don’t get me wrong, but…I mean,holy fuck, it’s weird.”

“Oh,ah,” well, she didn’t know how to reply to that, “Well I–”

"Nah,Bea,” Shells waves her hand, ‘Don’t worry about it, we’ll resolve this one way or another.”

Beatrice nodded, understanding the complexities of the situation. "I get what you mean, Shells. It's a big decision, and it can feel like you're swimming against the tide when everyone around you is on a different path.”

“That’s kinda deep,huh?”

“ But you're right; you and Bob will find your way through this together. And don't worry about being the 'crazy aunt.' You're an amazing friend, and you've got plenty of time to figure out what's right for you."

Shells offered a small but genuine smile. "Thanks, Bea. Your support means a lot to me. And I know you've got your own challenges to deal with right now, so I didn't want to burden you."

Beatrice squeezed Shells' shoulder again. "You're never a burden, Shells. And besides, catching up with you and helping with this ice machine is a welcome break from my own worries."

Shells chuckled. "Fair enough. It's good to have you back, even if it's just for a little while."

"It's good to be back," Beatrice replied with a smile. "And who knows, maybe I'll be able to come around more often soon.”

“Really?”

“Well,” she sighs, her shoulders dropping, “I’m not sure…I want the twins to come home, you know?”

“...right…how are you and Rooster dealing with it?”

Beatrice purses her lips, “Well…” she smiles, ‘He’s just…amazing, you know?”

Shells looked at Beatrice with an knowing smile. "I can imagine he is.” she leans down to pick something from the ground, “You two are gross.”

Beatrice nodded, her eyes distant for a moment as she thought about Rooster. "He's been there for me through everything, especially during the pregnancy. It hasn't been easy, but he's made it a lot more manageable."

"That's love, Bea," Shells said softly. "Real love." and she sounded serious.

Beatrice's smile grew warm and affectionate. "Yeah, it is. I'm really lucky to have him in my life. And he's been amazing with Nikki and the twins. They adore their dad."

Shells chuckled. "Well, of course they do. He's a great guy. And you're a fantastic mom, Bea. You're doing an incredible job."

Beatrice's expression turned slightly wistful. "Thanks, Shells. It means a lot to hear that.”

“And,don’t forget I helped,” she points it out, “If it wasn’t for me and aunt Penny, you two would stay ages pining for each other.” she pauses, “Wanna know when I noticed he liked you?”

“...well...yes.”

She was bored, she took her time to drink some water when she was outside the Hard Deck. Beatrice was doing good, she’s been with them with a few months and she managed to get the hang of it.

“Shells.”

She sips her water, nodding at the tall pilot, “Rooster.”

“Are they inside?”

“Yep, they never miss it do they?” she teases, nodding towards the bar, ‘Go on, my aunt is going to see you in a bit.”

Rooster nods, about to go in - his hand is on the door- but he stops and he’s looking at something, better yet, someone inside. Shells noticed his pause, then slowly turned to see where his gaze landed and she slowly lowered her bottle.

Was he looking at Bea?

Oh, ohohohohoho!!!

Shells looked like the cat that just found out the cream was chilled and had pieces of fruit in it, because her gaze moved from Rooster to Bea and vice versa, only to stop at Rooster. He was a statue, a living statue, his jaw was clenched a bit and even if his eyes were hidden by the caravans, it was still obvious where he was staring.

She clears her throat once, nothing, then twice, still nothing, only when she coughs right by his side is that the pilot moves - jumps,more likely. He gives her a confused stare and she smirks ,”Well,aren’t you going inside?”

Rooster blinked rapidly, as if snapping out of a trance, and cleared his throat nervously. "Yeah, yeah, of course," he stammered, taking a step back from the door as if he had been caught in the act of something he shouldn't be doing.

Shells couldn't help but chuckle at his reaction. It was clear as day that Rooster had been caught staring at Beatrice, and she was going to make sure he knew it. "You know, Rooster, you can go inside. I won't tell Bea that you were checking her out."

Rooster's cheeks flushed a deep shade of red, and he scratched the back of his head awkwardly. "I wasn't... I mean, I was just... um..."

Shells grinned mischievously, her eyes dancing with amusement. "Uh-huh. Go on,Chanticleer, go on.”

Rooster's embarrassment seemed to increase, but he managed a nod and a faint smile. "Yeah, I will. Thanks, Shells."

With that, Rooster finally entered the Hard Deck, leaving Shells outside with her victorious grin. She couldn't resist a little teasing now and then, and now…now she had something to work with.

“Ohhh,” she rubs her hands like a villain, “This will be great.”

“Wait.”

“Hm?’

Beatrice holds her hand, “Wait, when was that??”

“Like,what, three,four months before you two actually talked?” she shrugged, licking her lips as she sits up,smirking at Beatrice’s face,”You knew he looked at you then,Bea, why are you so surprised?”

"Three or four months? Seriously,?"

Shells shrugged nonchalantly, her smirk still firmly in place. "Well, I did tell you about some stuff but you didn’t want to hear it back then.."

Beatrice shook her head in mock exasperation. "Well,fine, you are right…I didn’t see it. I didn’t want to see he was looking or noticing me.”

Shells grinned. "Oh, he noticed you, alright. Couldn't take his eyes off you, in fact."

Beatrice chuckled, feeling a warm, happy glow inside. "Well, I'm glad he did. Otherwise, we might have missed out on something really special."

Shells nodded in agreement. "You two are a perfect match, no doubt about it. And it's about time you got some happiness in your life, Bea."

Beatrice smiled at her friend, feeling grateful for the support and love she had received from Shells and everyone else at the Hard Deck. "I couldn't have done it without all of you. You've been like family to me."

Shells leaned in and gave Beatrice a one-armed hug. "That's because you are family, Bea. And we're here for you, no matter what."

While the conversation was really sweet and thoughtful, it was Penny’s heavy footsteps that broke it, when she stood by the bar and saw the two her smile - while still present - was strained, ‘Girls,” she begins, clapping her hands together, “...can we talk in the office? Really quickly?”

“Wait,”Shells begins, “Us? Both of us?”

Penny inhales shakily, “...yeah, both of you.”

#bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x oc #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw x named reader #tgm oc #tgm fic #tgm fanfiction

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varanest · 1 year

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call me on the line, call me any, any time (julián álvarez)

a/n: hi peeps, my writer´s block is finally gone and i don´t wanna jinx it but i hope i post at least once a week. any feedback, suggestions, or comments will be gladly appreciated.

“Don’t call me when you’re drunk.”

“I’m not drunk.”

“Okay. Spell: handkerchief.”

“Shit, I can’t even spell that when sober.”

“So you are drunk?”

Pause. “Fuck.”

Julián turns over in the bathtub. The porcelain is cool against his warm cheek. He stares at the bottles lined along the edge. Shampoo. Hair conditioner. Three empty beer cans. Face-wash. A miniature red wine. Shave cream. Soap. Soda. He cradles a bottle of fernet. It’s half-empty. He can taste it on his lips. Bitter, sweet, herbaceous, and spicy. Perfect, like sticky barbecue ribs on a summer day. He remembers it:

Smell of sun lotion. Taste of beer. Her tangled hair sticking to her lip-gloss. The way she laughed at everything he said.

“Are you asleep?”

“What?” Julián jerks up. His eyelids feel heavy, like someone has taped them shut. He blinks several times. The world is still blurry. “Am I what?”

“I could hear you snore.”

“No.” Maybe. “It’s music. I’m at a party.” He holds his phone into the air, hoping to catch the beat. It echoes through the house. Dun-dun-dundun-duh. The DJ is making the floor vibrate. Even the bathtub quivers. It makes him feel sick. He suppresses the need to vomit. “Hear that?”

“I can hear you groaning.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Not in a sexy way, Julián. Like you’re dying.”

“I do feel like I’m-” Dying, yes, like I’m about to choke on my own spit. The world is spinning. Maybe if I moved it would counteract it. Oops, no, that definitely made it worse. Shit, am I about to be sick? I can’t be sick. Not on the phone to Sierra. She’ll block my number. She’ll block my number if I tell her how bad I feel. I can’t say I’m dying. But I’ve already started talking. I do feel like I’m what? Like I’m what? Flying. Dying sounds like flying. Genius. “-flying.” No, now I definitely sound drunk.

“Flying?”

“Never mind.” Julián lies flat on his back and stares at the ceiling. It´s white, just like the ceiling back at the flat they used to share. He remembers it:

Sierra washing his back, shampooing his hair. Him shaving her legs, Sierra giggling because he missed a spot. Whispers of: you’re the one that I want. Whispers of:

“I miss you.”

The silence is loud. Julián swallows. It’s like his words echo in the bathroom: I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you. But it’s just Blink 182 playing below. The DJ has gone rogue. Tom Delonge’s voice serenade his miserable existence:

Where are you? And I’m so sorry. I cannot sleep-

“Wow,” she sounds amused, “some soundtrack you’ve got going there.”

“Ha. Yeah.” Pause. “Did I actually-”

“Say that you miss me? Sure did.”

Fuck. “Right.” Fuckhead. “Cool.” Twat. Dick. Idiot. Julián has another gulp of the fernet. It settles in his chin like a coating of oil. Or maybe the showerhead is dripping. His whole body feels like liquid, like he can’t fully control it, just like he can’t fully control the question: “Do you miss me too?” Fuck. Fuckhead. Twat. Dick. Idiot.

“Julián-”

“Sorry. Don’t answer.”

“You know-”

“Unless it’s affirmative in which case: definitely answer.”

Pause. “Julián, you know that we-”

Sque-e-eak. Footsteps. Giggling and kissing. The door clicks shut. Someone says:

“I want to fuck you in over the sink.” Shuffling of fabrics. A moan, and then -

Julián battles himself up to peer over the edge of the tub. A young couple - girl partially undressed, man’s hand under her skirt - peers back at him. She screams, and he apologizes, and Julián says:

“Sorry, this one is taken,” as they’re already halfway out of the bathroom. The door slams shut.

Sierra asks: “What was that?”

“Someone walked in on me.”

“Where are you?”

“In a bathroom.”

“You’re calling me from the toilet?”

“No, bathtub, actually.”

Pause. “Why are you calling me, Julián?”

There are too many reasons. They swirl around Julián’s head, merge into one, then separate again. Hundreds of reasons. Thousands of reasons. Because I just wanted to hear your voice? Too soppy. Because I wanted to apologize? Too serious. Because I saw your recent Instagram photo and it made me really horny and I remembered when we used to - Too much - full stop.

Or maybe it’s because:

He misses the way they would dance, uncoordinated feet and all. Julian´s not a great dancer, and Sierra making fun of him because you´re Argentine, Juli, how don´t you know how to dance cumbia? Feet hurting, but not any more than their bellies hurt from laughing too much. Drunk kisses, hot touches, Sierra looking at him like he was the sun.

He misses the way they would travel, in the car, no map and no sense of direction. They would eat breakfast in Manchester and dinner in Plymouth. They would set up camp on the beach and find their sleeping bags soaked by the tide in the morning. They counted the days by the sunrises - and they never missed one. Her eyes would glow so bright and full of optimism. He wonders if they still glimmer.

He misses the way they would love, sometimes roughly and sometimes slowly. Always together - always in tune. Her body was warm and wet and welcoming. He could worship her curves every day and never have enough. He feasted on her sex, on her breasts, on her lips, on her moans and on her pleasure. They glowed in the afterlight. So full of satisfaction, and so full of love.

He misses the way they would -

“Julián.”

Julián goes quiet. He realizes he’s been speaking. There are pictures on his phone. From Buenos Aires, and from Manchester. And from his private album, of them, snuggled up in bed, duvet under their chins, cheeky grins on their faces. They’ve just made love, no doubt about it. But why did I have to say it out loud?

Julián swallows. He puts the phone back to his ear. He goes to take a swig of the bottle. It’s empty. He’s sticky with liquor. “Sierra,” he croaks. He wants to say more. Repeat everything that’s on his mind in eloquent, poetic ways. But it all comes down to the same: He misses the way they would dance, sing, travel, kiss, love, be.

He misses her.

I miss her.

“I miss you.”

Pause. “I miss you too.”

Julián sits upright. He’s too quick - the world spins and spins around him. He grabs a hold of the edge of the tub. Shampoo bottles and beer cans scatter across the floor. The DJ is playing Bad Bunny, Coco. The lyrics seem to penetrate his brain:

No puedo escuchar cancione' dе romance (I can't listen to love songs) Me cansé que dе pensar en ti no me canse (I'm tired of not getting tired of thinking of you) El último pétalo me dijo que aún hay chance (The last petal told me that there's still a chance) No sé si e'verdad, pero si va' a volver, avance (I don't know if it's true, but if you’re coming back, come forward)

“You do?”

“Of course I do.”

“Wow.” Julián stares at the wall tiles. They have not been done well. Some are askew. Two of them have been placed the wrong way, disturbing the pattern. He can’t seem to look away from them. “Wow,” he mutters again, “Sierra, I never-”

“-knew? Why would you. We never talk. Unless you’re drunk.”

“I’m not-” Julián takes a deep breath. He can taste his breakfast. He slowly settles back down into the bathtub. The ceiling looms above. A fly is crawling across it, quivering in the flickering orange light from the lamp. “Maybe I am a bit drunk.”

“Oh!” Sierra laughs. “Oh, you admitted it.”

“A bit,” Julián empathizes. He’ll have a banging headache in the morning. He will feel crippled for days. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. Her voice soothes him.

“I’m also a bit drunk.”

Julián barks a laugh. “You are?”

“I guess we’ll both regret this in the morning.”

No, Julián thinks, but he doesn’t say it. He lets the silence wash in over them for a bit. Drip-drip-drip. The showerhead is leaking. He blinks water out of his eyes. He croaks: “Why did we split?”

“You know why.”

“I don’t. The arguments? It doesn’t matter really, does it?”

“We’re just too… dissimilar.”

“No, we’re similar. We are very similar.”

“Sometimes that’s worse.”

“Sometimes that’s better.”

Sigh. “See? We are arguing again.”

“No, Sierra, we are communicating.”

“When did you become such a therapist?”

“After my second shot of tequila.”

She laughs. It’s a beautiful sound. It seems to echo through the room. As if it travels with the music downstairs. It’s slow now. Slow, and romantic. He remembers:

“Do you remember when we went to Anto and Leo´s wedding? They were playing that song. Ah, what’s it called… listen-” he waves the phone, tries to catch the music, “hear that? It’s- Adele, that’s her name, yeah, Adele. There’s nothing that I wouldn’t do, to make you feel my love. They were playing that, do you remember? And they were dancing. And we sneaked outside, and we were going to fu- make love behind the barn, but then you saw that falling star, and we ended up just sitting in the field making wishes.” Pause. “Do you remember?”

There’s a long wait. For a moment, Julián thinks she’s hung up. When she speaks: “I remember,” her voice sounds wet.

“Do you know what I wished for?” Julián asks.

There’s an even longer wait. “What?”

“You.”

“Don’t be daft.”

“Why?”

“We were already together then.”

“Aye, and I wanted to keep it that way.”

She laughs. “Well, that didn’t work out.”

“No,” Julián admits, “it didn’t.” It’s kind of funny, he supposes, it’s kind of not funny. He wants to laugh and be casual about it, but if he tries to smile, he’ll start sobbing, and if he starts sobbing, he’ll start crying, and if he starts crying, then she’ll definitely hang up on me. He buries his face in his arm. The darkness soothes him. He could sleep - forever, and forever, and tomorrow will be a new sunrise. But it won’t be with her.

Sierra asks: “Do you know what I wished for?”

He mutters: “What?”

“For you to fuck me.”

He laughs, and it makes him sob. Just fucking typical - very sexy of me. “You wished for me to fuck you?” He can’t believe it.

“You were just so fascinated with the stars. Like, you wouldn’t look away from them, and so we just sat there as you talked about the constellations and some Greek guy-”

“Ptolemy,” Julián remembers.

“-and all I wanted was to get bent over the haystack.” She pauses. “See, dissimilar.”

“Dissimilar,” Julián admits.

“All those cheap dates in Manchester, when I just wanted you to let me pay for cinema tickets. But you were too proud. And all those car-rides, oh God, Julián, the car rides. I just wanted to jump on a train so we could both enjoy the journey and not constantly get stuck in traffic.”

“Huh. I remember it rather differently.”

“Of course you do.” Sigh. “That’s what I like about you, you know? You always remember the fun.”

“It doesn’t sound like you had fun.”

“I did.” Pause. “But it would’ve been nice to do things my way sometimes, you know?”

“I know,” Julián realizes. I know. Fuck. Fuckhead. Twat. Dick. Idiot. Of course I know.

“Could we try that?”

“Try what?”

“Doing things my way.”

It sounds like a proposition. His heart leaps in his chest. “You mean-”

Sque-e-eak. Footsteps. The door opens and shuts. Julián battles himself up to peer over the edge of the tub. He stares at Sierra - wet cheeks, small smile on her lips, mobile pressed to her ear - and she stares at him as she says:

“I mean: no more calling me when you’re drunk.”

Pause. “Roger that.” Julián hangs up. He slowly puts his mobile away in the pocket of his trousers. He’s still peering at her, apprehensive. His body is liquid. Or maybe just his eyes. They seem to drip-drip-drip like the showerhead. “What are you…?”

“What are you doing,” she returns the question. She kneels next to the tub, picks up the miniature wine, shakes it in her hand. “Empty.” She pulls the bottle of fernet out of the tub. “Empty.”

“It’s mostly in my chin.”

“Charming.” She rests against the tub, her cheek squeezed, perfectly round and peachy in her hand. She looks at him, an expression of exhaustion and content. “What am I doing here?” she asks the question for him. “Didn’t think I’d miss the world cup celebration, did you?”

“World cup…” Pieces start coming together. His mind wanders of, what DJ at a party would play Blink 182? “Some shitty DJ they hired”.

Sierra laughs. There it is again: the perfect sound. It soothes his aching head.

Julián manages to reach over and grab her hand between his own. “I’m sorry,” he says.

“What for?”

Pause. “Everything.”

Sierra nods. “Me too. I’m also sorry. About everything.” She looks at his hand. She looks at him. And her eyes send him back to the sunrises: glimmering violet, full of warmth and optimism. A new day. A new chance.

A new kiss.

It is gentle, almost a peck, but it is there. On his lips. He tastes of fernet. She tastes of wine. The air is thick with perfume and aftershave and memories. When she climbs into the tub, she fits perfectly into the crook of his arm. As if they were always there, together, resting in a bathtub, watching the white ceiling, listening to the DJ announce:

“Everybody hit the dance floor!”

Aquella feroz sesión de testosterona en que las hormonas formaron parte del bello arte del beso al cuello, le puso el sello que aquella noche, después del coche, todo iba a ser fenomenal

“Fucking hell - how romantic!”

Sierra laughs. She wraps her arm around him and closes her eyes. “Let’s head down in a second,” she suggests.

Julián too closes his eyes. “Yes,” he agrees, “in a second.” It seems like seconds. Seconds of memories:

- First kiss as the fireworks set off at midnight, and

- Skinny-dipping in the lake behind the house, and

- Arguing about what TV show to watch, and

- “Delete that photo, I look awful!”, and

- Long, long walks up and down the pier, and

- “I’m sorry, this isn’t working,” and

- Solo dinners in front of the TV with nothing to watch, and

- Drunk texts, drunk calls, drunk everything, and

- I wish I could do things over, and

the party has long finished by the time he wakes up, bleary-eyed, thirsty, in the need of a piss and breakfast.

But first things first, he dials a number.

Sierra stirs next to him. She’s frazzled - hair sticking out everywhere, sleep in her eyes, dress crinkled and marked with spots of wine. She picks up her phone. She mutters: “‘ello?”

“I’m sober,” Julián says.

Sierra looks up at him. “Spell: handkerchief.”

“H-A-N-D-K-E-R-C-H-I-E-F.” Pause. “Am I right?”

“I don’t know, I’m not a dictionary.”

They laugh. They laugh so much it hurts, and Julián’s head swims, and his knees ache, but he feels good. So, so good. Like he could take on the world. After a good, greasy breakfast. He smiles at her, and she smiles back at him, and when she asks:

“Do you want to try again?” and offers him her hand, he takes it and says:

“With you? Always.”

a/n: i´m begginggggg you guys to not be ghost readers! please let me know what you think here and read the rest of my works here.

#julian alvarez #julian alvarez imagine #julian alvarez fanfiction #football imagine #football fanfic #football fanfiction #neymar jr imagine #kylian mbappe imagine #football blurb #jude bellingham imagine

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sergeantnarwhalwrites · 4 months

Text

Voice claims through music

An excuse to geek out about my characters and music. Gonna throw down some songs/artists I think my characters sound like some is purely vibes. And toss down some explanation. I can toss down a playlist of all the songs if y'all want to go for that ride, I'd have to find a system for some where I just said the artist or an entire album.

Sorry for the chaos this is to read.

Tag list: @the-void-writes @aether-wasteland-s @magefaery @kk7-rbs @jezifster @winterandwords @liv-is @outpost51 @nanashi23 (Let me know if y'all want me to take you off or add you. Just making assumptions about who wants to see some character stuff)

-Fucked at Five-

Saz: Got that swoon worthy kinda voice swoon worthy as in she can really make you feel it when she speaks. Cracks pretty often, especially when she's got strong feelings about what she's saying. Half morphed voice gives a more ragged feel, cracks less but it's more intense. Still haven't figured out if any of the morphers can talk with words when fully morphed.

Her voice normal: Tracy Chapman (specifically her self titled album)

Half morphed form: Eat You Alive by Limp Bizkit and Hollywood Baby by 100gecs

Ian: Not to say it's whiny but it kinda is. It's voice has got the bass (think that's the word) and a sort of down low feel but it's got like that whiny edge that follows some of the shit he says. Stresses sounds on certain words that don't really need it. Kinda feels like he's being condescending at all times if you don't know him well. His half morphed form's voice still has that waving pitch stressed sounds thing going but arguably less intense. Personally I'd say his voice remains about the same octave maybe a tad bit higher.

Normal voice: The Vaccines and Blink-182

Half morphed form: Friend of a Friend by Weezer and Teenage Dirtbag by Wheatus

Elliot: His voice isn't very deep and I definitely wouldn't call him soft spoken either. His voice is typically full of energy. His joy is typically contagious when not annoying. Of course his voice does fluctuate depending on the situation. Shock will either make it shoot up super high or drop really low. I think his half morphed voice is more noteable. Has more of a presence, maybe struggles to speak during his halfway form though.

Normal voice: Hopeless Romantic by Breezy Supreme and Out of My League by Fitz and The Tantrums

Half morphed form: She's Got Balls by AC/DC and I Just Wanna Live by Good Charlotte maybe a bit of Saturday by Remember Sports

Julie: Pretty normal in range and melodic. Her voice definitely has range though. Probably the kind of person who's voice gets higher when they're irked or attention gets put on them unexpectedly. But her voice can also drop a few octaves easily. Her half morphed form voice is still pretty melodic but the words are slower. A breath away from being off with the cadence.

Her normal voice: Breakin' My Heart (Pretty Brown Eyes) by Mint Condition

Half morphed form: Satan is Motor by Cake

-Robots & Gardens-

Peace: On the deeper end but not super deep. I don't think the octave in her voice fluctuates much. It doesn't really go lower and she can't really make it higher without her voice cracking or it just becoming silence. A bit of a slower speaker. She'll leave you hanging on her words sometimes but not painfully so. When she's angry her speech is usually faster and more aggressive.

Normal voice: Making Love to Me by Pink $ock and Party Sickness by Hope Tala and Lovely Day by Bill Withers

Angry tone: Iwss by Dellie Boe

Tone and vibes purely-> her speaking with Green: Sweet Tooth Baby by Ark Woods and My Baby Loves Me by Cyberbully Mom Club maybe a splash of Me and My Husband by Mitski

Green: Her voice is gruff and low. It's got a rumble to it. Like it comes from her throat and chest. The force/intensity varies with her mood. The happier/more at ease version is more of a rumble. The angrier version's get more bite it's deeper. The sound of her words clash together so it's almost like she's just growling at you the whole time.

Normal voice: Twisted Transistor by Korn and FMLYHM by Seether

Happy/Happier voice: Monkey Wrench by Foo Fighters and ULTRAnumb by Blue Stahli and Pour Some Sugar On Me by Def Leppard

Angry/highly irritated voice: I Saw Your Mommy... By Suicidal Tendencies and Pain by Soulfly and Man of the Year (Tree City Sessions) by Dance Gavin Dance.

Tone and vibes purely-> her speaking with Peace: Love Soft by Cyberbully Mom Club and When I Come Home by The Drums and a sprinkle of Michelle by Sir Chloe

Digits: More easily described as all over the place. I wouldn't say her voice is high. I'd actually say her voice is typically more monotone and even. She's just doing fucky shit with her voice all the time to make points. That's just how she talks. Excited? It's like she's chanting. Irritated? Whiny white boy voice activated. Hurt? An amalgamation of things who knows. Peace actually finds Digit's funny because of this.

Normal voice (more like her most comfortable): Mindless Self Indulgence (Frakenstein Girls Will Seem Strangely Sexy album mostly) and I'm Not Laughing Anymore by Left at London.

Annoyed voice: Glaive (in general) and gwen by wilt

Silly goofy voice 1: I Fucked Yr Mom by Sorry Mom and I Fuck Everything Up by Mom

Donnie: Sir is mute so their's is gonna be about their tone and the vibes they give off. He gives the vibes to me of a comforting kind of tone that can flip really quick. It's on the edge at all times. Except for when he's joking most likely. Though I find his annoyance a bit funny cause they can be a little snippy a bit of an asshole real quick.

Normal tone: Piss It All Away by Puddle of Mudd and Candy Rain by Soul Rebel

Sarcasm vibe/voice: Don't Kill Yourself, You're Too Sexy by salior mel

Annoyed tone: Suffocate by Cold and Heavy by Theory of a Deadman

Hollis: On the higher side but it's got a sway/waver to it. I'd argue it can be very melodic. It has some range to it but usually just higher not necessarily deeper. When she's more serious it will mellow out and her speed will usually slow down. You can definitely hear the hurt in her voice because the pitch usually remains in the same range so sudden changes (dips or highs) is usually pretty indicative of how she's feeling.

Normal Voice: Indigo De Souza

Serious tone/voice: Wasting Your Time by Indigo De Souza and Fireman by Frankie Cosmos

Sarcastic/Smartass tone: Doritos & Fritos by 100gecs and sex money feelings die by Lykke Li

#I have a hella amount of songs in this post #So I won't put a shit ton of links in for all of the songs #writeblr #character stuff #long post #my bad y'all

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