#an actual nicole mood | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cherry-leclerc · 9 months ago

Text

cherry cola ☆ op81

genre: smut, humor, yearning, tiny bit of fluff, virgin!reader, innocent!reader, experienced!oscar, sub!reader (for a while!), dom!oscar (for a while!)

word count: 8.5k

After a painful break up, Oscar finds himself head-to-head with an enticing girl, filled with pure innocence. Also known as, his parents secret weapon, and his worst temptation.

nsfw warning under the cut!

18+...f!receiving, fingering, brief mentions of masturbation, face riding, missionary sex, doggy style

inspired by this !

cherry here!... hellooo anons, long time, no see haha sorry for the lack of posts, but hopefully this makes up for it, somehow? formal apology for my last post too while we're at it. though this fic is inspired by cola by lana del rey, it will not have a sour ending like past fics (iykyk). missed u all, so here ya go! enjoy :)

There is an apprehensive sensation that towers over him as soon as she walks in; shy mannered, tall, and firm with a hint of hesitation—it’s something he adores about her, but also something that has him feeling jittery. Oftentimes, her lips are his most prized possession, enjoying the way they move. All except at this very moment.

Everyone notices his bitter, broken, and quiet mood despite always laying low. He’s never been one to share his problems with others, and he most definitely was not going to start now. It should be the best moment of the season—his first win—but he doesn’t have the joy to celebrate it with anyone.

Oscar’s brown eyes are low and dull; empty. He’d be a damn liar if he said he didn’t see any of this coming. If he didn’t feel an ounce of guilt and misery. Should he have been more attentive, a better boyfriend, then he wouldn’t be regretting his life choices. Dramatic, but true.

“How are you spending your summer break? Are you and Lily traveling?”

The Australian tries to scoff at the innocent inquiry beaming from his teammate, but he settles with a wince, not being able to hide it. “She, um…we broke up, actually.” He’s never been a religious individual—has never even set foot inside a church—but for the first time in his life, he prayed no more questions would be asked.

Lando raises his thick brows, clearly surprised by the sudden confession. Sure, they were a private couple—likely the most in the entire paddock—but he never saw this coming from Oscar and Lily. Though he only met her a couple of times, simply exchanging a kind greeting, he would’ve bet his entire Rolex collection that the couple were smitten with one another. “Ah, I’m sorry, mate.”

The rude sound of his race suit being zipped up harshly makes the Brit flinch in the slightest. “Don’t worry about it. That’s life, no?”

Costa Rica—they were supposed to go to Costa Rica. Instead, now, he sits alone on a flight back to his home country. He’s ecstatic to be sleeping in his childhood room with outdated posters hung of all his favorite drivers, but the feeling lingers.

Sprawled like a koala, humid t-shirt pressed against his skin, he tosses and turns for an estimate of five whole minutes. He should be enjoying the beach, sipping on highly sweetened margaritas, getting the worst tan of his life, but he’s here. The hot summer air in Melbourne makes him spit out a string of dirty curses that would send his mum into a coma.

The brunette might as well be an only child since not a single one of his three sisters were here to keep him company, ditching him with his parents. He loved them, of course he did, but a full house was his ideal way to spend his break. His home gym isn’t even enough to help him forget, even for a second.

“Dinner is ready, honey,” Nicole announces, peeking carefully through the crack of the door. She grins widely. “There’s even pavlova—your favorite.”

He forces a polite nod, shaggy hair dangling just above his eyes. “Thank you. I’ll be out in a bit.” It actually takes a sum of thirty-minutes for him to jog down the stairs, a strong scent of apple expanding from his now washed hair. His dad hums as soon as he spots the McLaren driver.

“It’s rude to leave guests waiting, Oscar,” he warns with a deep voice.

The twenty-three year old assumes it’s a lame dad joke, perhaps, so runs along with it, taking a good look around the dining room. “Won’t happen again. I showered—”

“Where would you like to place the dessert, Mrs. Piastri?” a soft voice echoes down the hallway as he turns at the unfamiliar tone. You halt, caught off guard by the new presence. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you would be here.”

“In my own home?” he finds himself squeaking involuntarily. The stern look that dances across his parents faces is enough for him to bite down on his tongue. He doesn’t even know why he said any of that—especially to a stranger.

They introduce you two quickly, though you’re just as fast as to say that you obviously knew about his existence. Do you follow my races? You shake your head, glossy hair shining. “I work for your parents, so…I sort of know. Plus, your sisters always talk highly about you when you’re gone.”

He blinks. “You work here?” Brown eyes flicker to his parents, confusion written all over. “What could she possibly do?”

“Oscar,” Nicole scolds. “I thought you left all the unnecessary questions back in junior high.”

Chris slides a large hand over her smaller one, calming her down just a tad bit. The older man sighs. “You know your mum, always looking for something new to do—”

“I wanted to grow a garden!” she squeals, delighted. “Like in all those magazines you get me for my birthday—oh, so lovely, honey. Only I realized, I don’t know anything about gardening.”

“And this lovely girl standing right here is a total natural. Her hands must be magic.” Oscar blushes hard at his dads choice of words. “She’s helping us out for the time being. Until we get back.”

The Australian's mouth opens, then snaps back shut, swallowing. “Get back from where?”

“Costa Rica!”

He gapes. “You’re using my tickets?”

Nicole winces. “Can’t let them go to waste, honey…”

His father butts in. “How is Lily by the way?”

The brunette groans, running his hands through his waves. “How should I know? Come on, you guys can’t be serious.” The tickets weren’t the problem; the fact that they were leaving was. He spots you awkwardly placing the pastry down onto the table. “Can you give us a minute?”

“Yes, of course,” you quip, glad to have a reason to flee far enough away from the premises. You turn to the Piastri’s who smile fondly at your understanding. “I’ll be out in the garden.”

As soon as you rush out, the twenty-three year old turns swiftly. “I guess I’m leaving too.”

“Don’t you dare, Oscar Jack Piastri—” He fumes. “Why not? You’re all going to be gone!”

“She won’t—you are keeping her company.” She’s not asking; she’s demanding. Staring back in shock, the McLaren driver avoids eye contact, fidgeting like a kid at their first day of school. His mum stands up, makes her way over, and pecks his soft cheek. “She’s a sweet girl. She won’t be a bother—she’s just down the hallway.”

That’s where Lily would always stay back when they first started their relationship; too afraid of making a bad impression on his parents. He found it adorable. He rolls his eyes and releases a heavy breath. “Fine.” He stares out the glass window, focusing on where you patiently sit on the wooden bench, delicate hands pressing your dress down against your thighs. “Fine...”

The following morning, his parents wake him up at the crack of dawn, bidding goodbye. It comes as a total surprise, thinking he had a few more days left with them, but no. He’s barely registering any of it before they whisper inaudible nonsense and scurry out of his bedroom.

After some debating, he changes and decides to go on a quick run. The sight of Ms. Alleck watering her burnt grass makes him smile as he sets off. It would have been easier to not get as tired if it were a slight bit chilly, but it’s blazing hot. He cuts it short, dashing back home and immediately serving himself a glass of cold water.

“You’re up early.”

The brown eyed boy jumps in sudden surprise. Standing in a pastel yellow sleeping gown, you grin brightly. Long lashes lay flat, nose pinching rosy pink, and breath minty. “Yeah, my folks sort of woke me up. Couldn’t fall back asleep.”

“Oh.” You pout. “They left already?”

“You knew?”

“Yup. They mentioned it last night before bed.” A beat. “I hope me staying here isn’t making you uncomfortable…it’s just that they offered, and—”

“It’s not.” Lie. “Make yourself at home.”

Not much is seen or heard from him for the majority of the day; occasional glaces coming here and there. They put you in an uncomfortable spot yesterday—you had been working on the garden for a year now, damn it—but their son's demeanor took you by surprise. The pictures and stories were something you relied on as the only source of getting to know him: polite, tall, and swanky—boyish.

That was so far from the truth. Oscar Piastri has grown into his body; almost appearing to be a handsome giant. Despite his warm face, his attitude is a bit snarky. He has no problem in saying what’s on his mind. And he is most definitely not a boy.

He’s a man.

“What do you say?”

“Sorry?”

He chuckles, Adam's Apple dancing up and down. “Would you like to join me for dinner?”

It wasn't his intention to try and get close to you—not purposefully, at least—but he thought; why not? Who knows when his parents are coming back, when his sisters would, and he wanted to prove to you that he wasn’t some snotty guy. Summer is summer, after all. A friend to spend it with sounds quite nice.

Pursing your red lips, you nod, setting your book aside. The dinner table is already set up. Chicken and rice. That’s it. Given, it looks and smells amazing, but plain. You quirk a brow. “Aren’t you supposed to eat your greens? To drive quicker?” He burns up at you teasing tone.

“I didn’t want to risk burning the house down. We’re lucky I was able to get even this done.”

“Very well.” The refrigerator opens, colorful veggies staring back at him. You grin, slow and easy. “I’ll take care of it. It’s only fair, roomie.”

Oscar left home a few years ago, migrating to the United Kingdom for work, so it had been a while since he had stepped foot in his backyard. He faintly remembers his pirate treehouse, his sisters’ Barbie’s cluttered inside. It was a bone-chilling sight for baby Oscar back then, but now, the paint is chipping off, the wood looks a lot weaker. It’s a nostalgic feeling.

The new additions are stunning. A bunch of healthy flowers beam back at him and he swallows when he realizes he can’t name a single one. Waxflowers, Calamint, Dahlias, Peonies, Carnations, California Poppies. One by one, he admires with an open mouth. “They’re beautiful.” He turns to you with a proud smile. “You’ve done an excellent job.”

Pink feathers onto your already blushed cheeks, biting back a cheesy grin. You had decided to eat out on the bench, choosing to enjoy the now fresh air. Still humid, but less than before. The scent of coconut sunscreen makes his whiff constantly. “So…Costa Rica?”

He winces. It was too soon to talk about the situation, but something in your calm voice makes it easier to spit it out even though you probably already heard from his parents. All of a sudden, your savory carrots taste like complete shit. “T’was supposed to go with my girlf—my ex. My ex-girlfriend.”

You pout, sorrowfully. “Oh, I’m sorry, Oscar. I didn’t mean to…I had no clue.” And it’s genuine. Guess his parents weren’t complete traitors.

“Tell me—how long have you been working on fixing the garden?”

“Since last summer,” you hum, chewing down on a piece of grilled chicken. “This is the first time I have actually stayed here, though. Your parents are sweet. As soon as they heard that you were coming back home, they insisted I kept you company.”

Sharp jaw clenches and he scoffs. You simply blink back innocently. Then, he notices it. The way it reflects against the yellow ray of the now setting sun. He knows what it is, so he doesn’t ask. Too busy staring off into the distance, you place your plate down. “Let me show you a few other things I’ve been working on.”

There’s row and row, further into the open area; every twist and turn makes his brows raise up higher, impressed by the noticeable updates. Coming to a halt, he spins his head around, brown locks hitting his temples. “Since when do we have a cherry tree?”

You beam, orbs shining with excitement. “Since last summer!” you repeat, cheerfully. You pick one, handing it for him to try. An embarrassing moan erupts once the sweet nectar slides down his throat. “Good?”

“Bloody amazing.” Every compliment makes you squeal with delight. “My mum is actually allergic to cherries, so how…”

“She was actually the one who brought it up. Said she knew how much I loved them, and that I deserved a little something for flourishing her garden. I couldn’t deny the chance to do so.” You bite down on your lip, sheepishly. “They are my favorite.”

Reaching for one makes him look away as soon as your dress rises up, soft legs poking through. Bare feet press against the wet grass as you tippy toe. He mustered a fake cough, but as soon as you bite down onto the bloody fruit, he clicks into a trance.

Plump lips; thick and juicy. Long lashes fluttering shut against your glossy cheeks. That could have been because of the summer heat, but it affected him just the same. The familiar sensation of attraction rushes to his cock as he stands stiffly—but also loosely. He was loose. So fucking loose.

Something hits his cheekbones and it rips him away from his drooling. A singular seed now lays by his feet; indicating what you had done. A crinkled, wobbly smile shines back at him, hands nervously flattening your dress back down. The Australian jokingly lunges towards you as you squeal, backing away.

“You were disintegrating! I had to get your attention one way or another!”

Oh, you definitely got his attention. Giving you one final scowl, he stops his steps. “Everything—all of it—it’s great. Thank you.” The wind picks up and you shiver. “...for doing this for my parents.”

Neat hair flies against the breeze, covering your eyes for a minute. Pushing it aside, you scrunch your nose faintly. “Anytime.”

Technically, what you’re getting paid for was to watch over the beloved yard; that’s all. But you offer to do more. Mow the lawn? Paint the chipped wall? Wash the windows?

“God no, darling,” Oscar’s mum laughs through the end of the line. “You are doing enough already. Please. Relax.”

But you can’t. Nibbling on your thumb, you brush the counter, strolling past countless family portraits. A smile slips when you spot a toothless Oscar. “I insist.”

So, here you are; decluttering the attic. After a bit of bickering with Nicole, she eventually gives in and asks for a favor. Clean and tidy the small room. Easy peasy.

“Ouch,” you hiss when a nail digs through your skin, gore immediately pouring out of you like a waterfall; you squeak. Just then, a certain brunette peeks their head through the entrance.

“Oh good, it’s you. I thought we had an intruder.”

Raising a skeptical brow at him and the thin duvet, you quickly take it from him, pressing it down to ease the bleeding. “Holy crap, are you okay?” In one motion, he steps closer to you, analyzing the injury with worried eyes. You groan.

“It’s only a little cut. No biggie.” But the way your face is slowly losing color lets him know that your words aren't true. Brown eyes flicker, searching for a spot to sit, but everything about this is crowded. You were just about to start tidying; the mess was still there. Crouching onto a tiny stool, he takes a seat, somehow still towering over you. Or at least that's what it felt like, because suddenly, you felt suffocated.

His long legs are spread as you stand between them, hand out towards him as he winces at the brutal cut. “Ah—that’s pretty deep.” He gags when he notices the underneath flesh. You suppress a giggle. “We should go to the ER.”

You scoff, ripping away from his grip, tripping over a box. Regaining your balance, you drape the cloth over your hand once again. “That won’t be necessary. I’ll be right back.”

After rinsing your hand with alcohol, covering the wound with the largest bandaid to ever exist, and balling your eyes out, you make your way back up. The Australian is drenched in sweat, huffing and puffing. “Got it,” he pants. Confused, you tilt your head to the side, but that’s when you pick out the nail in the palm of his hand. You blink, too bewildered to make sense of how he retrieved it without the help of a hammer. “I also found lots of old trophies. Extremely bittersweet.”

“Why’s that?” you hum, kneeling down next to him, reading through the labels. Each makes you more and more dazzled.

A minute passes by. “Because I grew up.”

“That’s…sad.” Shrugging, he digs for more. He laughs loudly, throwing his head back. “Dear G—I forgot this even existed!”

Oscar’s 81 Things To-Do During the Summer [List]

Learn how to bike.

Learn the Australian National Anthem (Sophie will be beautifully impressed)

Get better at being more outgoing (Mum is worried)

So on and so forth. “You were an extremely creative lad. Eighty-one things to do…eh.” A tongue click. “Possibly buy a pet dragon?”

He cringes. “Not all were realistic. I actually never really got around to it. Mainly added, if anything.”

Crimson red flashes. “I, um, I could tell.”

69. Oscar Piastri, you know what I mean.

The brunette chokes on his saliva, yanking it away as fast as he can. Standing up to his full height, he rolls up the piece of paper and points towards the exit. “I think I should, um…yeah. See ya.”

“Yeah.” He dashes off. “See you…”

Eighteen-year old Oscar was a horny bastard. But every guy that age is, so it’s not really fair to feel bad about his list. The writing is obviously his, but the things jotted down made him almost feel like it wasn’t. Blowjobs? Hand jobs? What was he thinking?

And then, there was you—a curious cat. He had to be a virgin; he just had to. Why else would he be embarrassed? You weren’t one to judge, though. You knew nothing about the sexual world, having never partaken. The thin band wrapped around your ring finger is enough proof.

And no—you weren’t married.

It would have been absolutely diabolical to mention sex in your household growing up. Being Roman Catholics is no joke, believing religiously to wait until marriage. You never had a problem with that; you would wait. Doesn’t mean you didn’t know what any of the common terms meant. Sort of.

Only now—for the first time in your life—there it was.

Temptation.

The McLaren driver was no newbie. He has had his fair share of experiences; before Lily, with Lily. He knew just about anything and everything. His good-boy act was no facade. At times he didn’t like that about himself, but it’s who he was. Obeyed the rules. Never crossed the line with anyone he wasn’t romantically linked to. And yet…

There you were.

The flowers were perfect; only needing to be watered. The cherry tree was much more…complicated. The chances of animals recklessly hunting for the sweet fruit was high, the chances of the red drupes rotting also was. Therefore, you spent most of your time there.

Maybe you were avoiding him; you told yourself you were already horrified at the dirty thoughts taking over like the plague. And perhaps he was doing the same; he had only been locked in his room for the past three hours.

Golden hour. With your hands on your hips, you squint, admire the polished drupes, tickling with water. Walking back to the bench, you lay down, picking up on your reading, occasionally taking sips from your Cherry Cola.

Pacing the small bedroom, Oscar mutters to himself. Maybe she didn’t read all of it. Maybe she doesn't know what it means. Yeah—he was exaggerating. Clicking his window open, he gasped for needed air. As soon as he spots you reading, he grunts.

White skirt brushes down your smooth legs, challenging the sun to see who shines the brightest. Lips wrap around the glass bottle, puckering in the slightest. And he wonders; would you taste as sweet as the cool beverage?

He’s a grown man; an adult. There’s no need to be uncomfortable. Sex was a part of everyone's day to day life. He was the one making it a bigger deal than it actually was. Still, he slips on a pair of sunglasses, perched perfectly onto the bridge of his nose.

“Is it any good?”

His voice makes you flinch, dropping the book flat on your face. A tiny groan rings through the air. Flashing him a weak smile, you sit up straight, fixing your clothes. “Want one? There’s plenty in the fridge.”

He had noticed, of course he had. Never in a million years did he think he'd see his refrigerator stocked up with the sweet drink. He never cared enough to ask who they belonged to; figured they would just expire.

Wavy hair swings back and forth when he shakes his head. “Gotta keep in shape.” I see, you murmur, loopy eyes peeking over at him, taking another gulp. The sizzling feeling is utterly childish compared to what he’s making you feel. The burning sensation between your legs is annoying and painful, you almost want to plead for help. “I meant the book, by the way.”

“No!” You laugh, nervously. “I mean…it’s alright?”

After he stormed off and left you a breathless puddle, you biked and biked—until you hit the local bookstore. You weren’t looking for anything in particular, simply browsing, but as soon as you reached the section of Erotic Literature, you stopped.

So many—many—wrong choices. Still, humiliated, you paid and fiercely ran out. Maybe this was some sort of punishment for reading what you’re reading; had to be. And Oscar asking questions wasn’t helping. Licking your berry lips, you swallow a thick layer. “What have you been up to?”

Fuck, he moans, large hand sliding up and down his cock; more and more pleasure intensifying. Your tiny dresses. Your short skirts. Your angelic face. The way your lips would separate before every sentence. Your sweet scent that would have normally given him a headache, but instead made him chase after you like a dog.

Finishing all over his thighs, he shudders. White liquid never looked more sinister than at this very moment. After changing, he paces the room with regret.

Pushing the frames further into his face, he hums. “Oh, you know. Just… cleaning up my room.”

It’s been a week in a half now and you’re happy to announce that you have fallen into a routine. While Oscar did his daily workout, you would make breakfast. While you worked on the garden, he cooked dinner. Though, he was unbeknownst over the way you would drool over him when he would walk out the door; a compressed shirt hugging his built body tightly, arms begging to be kissed. You were unaware of the way he would rub his face in desperation when you walked out, banging his head purposefully against the cabinet; the way you would skip out with your book and infamous drink, or how you would prettily tie up your hair before you even got started.

It was a mess.

A mocking mess.

This afternoon though, you aren’t flying out the door to the yard, but rather frolicking over to Ms. Alleck, ready to assist. I try my best, but they always wilt! Could it be the humidity? Laughing, you toss your hair up into a bun, messy strands poking out as you cock your head to the side. “Could be, but don’t you worry. We’ll find a way to make it work. Promise.”

He had always known you were kind, gentle, soft spoken…pure. And you doing this only added to his attraction. It’s salad, spaghetti, and salmon that afternoon. Sweaty, you pant. I’m going to squeeze in a shower real quick. But you weren’t sweaty, like you believe; you were glistening.

“This is so cute,” you chirp, sitting cross cross in the old treehouse. A few spider webs make your blood run cold, but he quickly took care of it, apologizing. The brunette blushes.

“I wanted to use it one last time. Before we get rid of it.” Neat brows furrow. “It’s just that it’s old—only a matter of time before it plunges down.” “What?”

“O-obviously not now!”

After a bit more convincing, you finally relax and enjoy the way the crickets sing against the night. Small feet press against the wall, white tube socks turning slightly brown from the lack of sweeping. For a moment, he shuts his lids, breaths shallow, body loose. The high temperature almost made him feel as if he was cuddling into the warmest blanket; it felt nice.

Whoops, you mumble when hollow glass pounds against the wooden floor. He perks up at the sound, brown eyes burning with high alert. “You do shit on purpose?” he screeches when he detects scarlet blood. Wincing in pain, you curl your hand towards the hem of your dress.

“Help me,” you plead, slight annoyance written all over your face. He must’ve broken the world record of running into the house to retreat the first aid kit, and running right back to you. The way he sanitizes the skin, to the way he wraps your hand with a gauze pad, is honestly hilarious.

“What so funny?” he murmurs, attention never leaving the wound.

“Mmm. Nothing.” He snickers and you giggle harder. “It just seems as if I’m making you a professional. You ought to be ready if anyone else needs your help to treat injuries.”

“Oh, of course. I’ll tell them a certain klutz made me learn from day to night with all her clumsiness.” His voice drops, laced with concern. “Seriously though—you were just healing. You have to be careful.”

Plump lips part with the sound of his delicate voice, accent almost disappearing. Wandering eyes admire the way his brows are knitted together and orbs soften. Swallowing, you nod. “I will.”

“Good.”

The once vibrant room is now hazy and suffocating. Does he not know what kind of effect he has on you? The type of power he holds? Oscar doesn’t seem to, though, with the way he chugs down his entire glass of water. Stuck in a trance, your hand briskly reaches out for your own drink. He roars with laughter, clutching his stomach. “You just broke your bottle, you don’t have a drink anymore.” He picked up the Cherry Cola you had offered, but he had declined. “Take mine.”

You don’t put up a fight, simply allow him to open and give it to you. The sweet drink doesn’t do a great job at hydrating your foaming mouth, but it helps as a distraction. On the other hand, the brunette can’t seem to not watch the ways your lips suck in and out, eagerly. As if this were the only source of air. He shudders.

“We should probably head down…”

Wiping your lips with the back of your hand, you comply, already standing up. From the floor, he has a good view of your legs; long, soft, sweetly scented. He wonders if you use honey as lotion because that would explain his urge to nuzzle his face against them. Picking up the broken glass and plates, you turn back. “Coming?”

A sigh rings through the air once, and suddenly—he’s cradling your face with high intensity and lust, molding his lips against yours. Tomato sauce stains his shirt and your dress from the plates that still remain between you two. One second, you're wide eyed, and then the next, you're allowing yourself to kiss him back.

You want to cry with how pleasant the feeling feels and he wants to scream with how much he wants to fuck you. But alas, one of you pulls away first—you can’t really tell who— and you’re both left gasping for air. Completely winded and fucked.

You both are fucked.

The treehouse comes crashing down the day after your first kiss. Yes, first kiss. You would like to blame him and say that he stole it from you, but the arousal that was dripping between your thighs last night was a clear indication that you could never actually say so because you liked it so much.

The wooden house tearing down is something you take as a sign; you’ve sinned. Okay, maybe that was a bit too dramatic, but you were honestly thinking about it. That night you dreamt of the wildest things imaginable; his pretty face in between your legs, large hands squeezing your perky breasts, fingers swirling inside your velvety walls, cock tearing you in half.

It was unacceptable.

So, while Oscar worked on picking up the tiles with a hometown buddy, you marched right over to beg for forgiveness. Kneeling down against the cushion, you say a silent prayer.

I don’t want to think like this—not when I know I can help it, but God this is getting way too out of hand. And you know I’m not like this, you know that! But he just—AGH. Maybe it’s his personality that makes him so attractive, or maybe it’s his sudden growth spurt, but please let me get a hold of myself. He’s just a friend, he’s just a friend—HE’S JUST A FRIEND.

“Would you mind keeping your words to yourself, sweetheart?” an older lady whispers, two rows ahead of you.

Pink feathers onto your cheeks. “Oh, yes, of course! I’m so sorry…”

I don’t ever ask for much, no, that’s never been necessary, but I am now. So please. Hear me when I say: Push this desire I have, far, far, far away.

If you were to say, there was a ninety percent chance that you would walk away. Not even spare him a passing glance. He would call you out on it later, but whatever—too late. Ignored you, you say? No, really I did? I had no idea, I’ll make sure to not let it happen again!

If Oscar were to say, there was a ninety-nine percent chance that he would let you walk away. He didn’t need your company; he was doing just fine. But then again, that one percent tugs at him like the devil on his shoulder.

“Hey. You’re back.” Cool. Calm. Collected.

“Oh! I suppose I am.” Cool. Utter. Mess.

He grins, eyes crinkling like the leaves that hang upon the crimson tree. Signaling up, he cocks his head in deep thought. “Just finished. Cole said his uncle could shred…” A pause. “He owns a massive wood chipper.”

Blinking like a deer in headlights, you chew on your bottom lip, simply nodding along. “Sounds good? I think. No. Yes. Very good.” You wince at all the uncontrolled mumbo-jumbo. “I’m sorry I was no help, too. I had to…talk to the man up above.”

“Eh, don’t worry about it. That must be why your pretty little knees are bruised.”

Your breath comes to a harsh halt, ears burning like a wildfire. The Australian just keeps his brown eyes set on the tree for a second longer before turning to face you. Quickly, you relax your muscles. “You could make up for it by helping me with something else.”

You gulp. Suddenly, your mouth is overflowing with hot saliva. “With what?”

Dark orbs glue onto your delicate figure, a slight smirk playing out. And it looks so unfamiliar, not his own, that you create a distance. And just like that, it’s gone. Vanished just as fast as it slipped onto his pink lips. “Get on.” He crouches down and your jaw drops.

“Wha—like onto your shoulders?” Rolling his eyes in a goofy manner, he nods, picks you up safely, and places you on top. You screech, dizzy by the sudden altitude. “Put me down!”

“You’re fine. Just help me reach those. Been craving them all day,” he murmurs, voice raspy. The twenty-three year old is still slightly sweaty from his hard labor, and that’s clear when you cling onto his brown locks. Other than that, you’re as high as a kite; both figuratively and literally.

You’ve known—seen—how tall and broad the Australian was, but being perched onto his wide shoulders was a sweet confirmation you couldn’t help but enjoy. “Move a bit forward.” He follows instructions, wide hands gripping onto your thighs to keep you steady. You giggle when a few fruits hit your face. “Watch it—and don’t you dare drop me.”

“Get,” he commands.

About three minutes pass by. You rip the cherries carefully, candy aroma filling the air, and plop them onto the basket. By all accounts, you’re well aware of your actions. The basket was full, now overflowing, really, and you could plant your ballet flats back onto the tall grass—but you don’t.

There’s something about feeling his touch; high electricity, shock waves nipping at your skin, soft pants. It’s pathetic how much you crave any ounce of physical touch he’s willing to give you, unknowingly.

“That should be good,” you whisper, meekly. He doesn’t respond, just swings you down as you let out a yelp. All of a sudden, you’re magically magnetic. And he wonders; if only. You hand the basket over, waiting nervously for him to thank you, at least.

“Thank you,” he feels himself saying. “What do you say we play a little game? No prize. Only bragging rights.”

“O-okay.”

A singular cherry is handed over. He grins. Can you tie a knot using your tongue? “Wait—are you being serious?”

The red fruit dissolves inside his mouth, spitting the seed somewhere far enough away. Then, the stem flips into his mouth. “Come on. I’ll give you a head start.”

With wary hands, you rip the stem away from your own drupe, fitting the thin stick into your suddenly dry mouth. He stares intently, clenching his jaw, “Go on. Ten seconds.” Quickly, your lips start to move, twisting and turning. Pouting, then sucking back in. Your low breaths become heavy after a few tries. You think you’re getting it done right, the sudden ball forming is enough for you to guess that you must be doing something correct.

The sound of his low mewls is what ends you. Doe eyes flicker up to face him, paying close attention to how his brown eyes wander up at the sky in concentration, occasionally squinting due to the bright sun. You can feel a thin layer of sweat hug you like a blanket as your movements slow down; a snail's pace compared to before.

For good measure, you fake your twists as you continue to simply admire. Too far gone, you blink hastily when he sticks his pink tongue out towards you, a stinking knot sitting nicely atop.

“I won.”

Gulp. “You sure did. Good job, Oscar.”

Long lashes flutter shut momentarily, head tossed back, sighing. “It wasn’t a fair fight. You weren’t doing anything. Other than staring at my lips.”

Flustered, you dig your hand into the bucket. “That’s not true! At all. At all, at all.” You munch harder, splitting a seed in half. You spit it out sourly. “You're just better at using your mouth than I am.”

It goes straight to his cock, your words. Opening his eyes, the brunette scrunches his nose. You’re avoiding his gaze. You’re good at doing that. A pro. But it leaves him to wonder some more. And that itself was dangerous when it dawned on him.

He doesn’t like daydreaming anymore.

“Fuck it,” he grunts, kissing you harshly, like the night before. And you thought that blew your mind, but this? This left you gasping and reaching out for him even though he was pressed right against you. You could feel him buzzing, pinching your hips against his large hands. It’s perfect.

You don’t really understand how you end up straddling him on the grass, green straining your knees as you grind harder onto him, forcing your skin to burn with each stroke. This—this—must be as good as it gets. There can’t be more, but you weren’t complaining. It was enough.

When his fingers dance underneath your dress, you halt, and everything comes crashing down. “No,” you pant. “I can’t. I’m sorry. I really am.”

“Why is that, baby?” he mumbles, lost on sucking the side of your neck. Looking up, his straight brows drew in together with concern. “What is it?”

“It’s just that…I’m—” Why is it so hard to admit? Brushing a strand of hair away, you purse your lips. “I’m a virgin, Oscar. It’s odd, I know, but I can’t sleep with you.”

“You think I didn’t know that?’

You freeze. “What?”

His thumbs circle your thighs, gently, swooning with how soft you feel. “I figured you were. Your purity ring sort of gave it away.” You blush hard, rolling off of him, playing with the thin band.

“I wish I could do this—God, I really want to—but I can’t.”

Respecting your decision, he pats your hand with reassurance. The hot feeling remained between your legs and the pain between his. This was torture, you both know that, but what was there to do? It’s awkward for a while, that is, until he starts asking you about things that shouldn’t make you glow with happiness.

How was your day? I want to hear all about it. Do you think it’s bad to eat an entire bucket of drupes? Must be, right? In the long run? Hey, would you mind teaching me how to garden? You make it look intriguing.

That seems to do it for you. Everything you ever promised flies out the window as you climb back onto his thick lap, and this time, he’s surprised by your actions. Clumsy fingers try their best to unzip his pants, but he only stutters against your kisses. N-no, we don’t have to rush anything. I, you, we—

“Shit, o-okay,” he sighs when you finally touch him, even in the slightest. He may be touch deprived, but so were you, so how far would any of this go? Flipping you over to lay against the tall grass, he winks teasingly and that effectively makes your heartbeat quicken. “Relax, sweetheart. Do that for me, yeah? Can you?”

“Yes. Yes. Yes.”

The McLaren drivers press a kiss on the inside of your thighs before licking them. You shiver, though try your best to even your breaths. You shut your eyes, maybe if you act hard enough, you could somehow convince yourself that this wasn’t a war itself. To see how long you’d last. No—you would last. You had to.

“I’ve thought about it.” He slips your panties down, inch by inch. “A lot, as of lately. If you would taste just as sweet as I imagined. As sweet as those Cherry Cola’s you're overly obsessed with.” And he dives in, licking your arousal clean as you pant, chest heaving up and down like an erupting volcano.

What were you supposed to feel—relaxed? In a frenzy? Most likely the latter because considering the way he was making your head spin said it all. The sounds he’s making forces you to involuntarily shut your legs around his face and his hand that now lies between you two. The stretch is a burning sensation that leaves you both gasping and moaning; it’s too much, but not enough.

More. Grinning up from in between your legs, he shakes his head full of curls, all thanks to the Aussie weather, and your dirty foreplay. “Does it feel good?” You whimper. “Good—good, baby. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.” Velvet walls clench around his long digits. “Hey, hey, look at me.”

Once your soft orbs connect to his intoxicating ones, his cock grows harder. “Okay, listen, it’s going to hurt a little bit, okay? But that’s completely normal; it’s like a…a stingy feeling. Do you understand?” I do, you pant. He grits his teeth when his calloused fingers brush against your g-spot and your head lolls back, exposing your sharp clavicle. He itches to mark you all over. “Do you want it, then?”

A zing. “Fuck, Oscar. I fucking want you.”

The brown eyed boy is all over you, kissing you up and down, gripping you tighter. It was an addiction in its truest form. For a split second, you frown when he slips out of you, but as soon as he starts unzipping his pants, you feverishly lick your lips.

It dawns on you that you aren’t scared, nervous, or anything; you’re bubbling with excitement. You watch carefully as he jerks himself off a bit, his already large girth growing bigger. How is that possible? “I’ll start with the tip.” Leaning down, he pecks your pouty lips and you smile. “Let me know if it’s too much, we’ll stop and take a break. Or do anything, really,” he adds, cheekbones flushing red.

“I’ll be okay,” you whisper. “I swear.”

You were being skinned alive, it was excruciating pain. You know he notices it when he starts brushing your hips, hoping to comfort you in some sort of way. Heavy breaths, numb lips from biting too hard, exposed breasts arching straight for him. He didn’t know whether to enjoy this or worry.

“Breathe, darling, breathe. In through your nose, out through your mouth. There you go,” he congratulates, admiring your shaky breath. “You’re doing so good.”

“Osc, move…please.”

There was no more confirmation necessary that you were ready to go. His hips find motion, thrusting into you slowly. Nails scratch down his back as you moan loudly, almost yelping. “Y-you’re so big.” So, so, so, so big. “So good.”

Nearly animalistic, he releases a grunt, pounding deeper into you, getting lost with the way you hug him tightly. You mewl, pressing your naked chest against his, and he nearly slips from his hands being set on top of the cold grass, but it was beautiful torture, all at once.

From the way you tremble, to the way you look up at him, he loves it all. He realized it been too long, he’s missed this, he’s missed having a body undeaneath his, as fucked up as that sounds.

And he—he must be a saint, himself. There’s a sort of invisible halo that lightens up around him, nearly blinding you. There’s a gut-wrenching stare he’s gifting you, making your stomach churn with pleasure.

Wrapping his mouth around your sore buds, you let out a shaky sigh. Skillful tongue swirls the way one would suck on a lollipop; the heat intensifies. “Close?” But you’re not sure, you just know it feels good—ridiculously good. He must have known so, and must want to make your first experience the best you’ll ever have, because suddenly, you’re on all fours.

As he slips in and out with such ease, you grip harshly at the tall grass. You can hear the sad rips with every thrust and every tug, but how can you feel bad when he feels so good? His cock rapidly brushes the magic spot, and you’re left seeing stars. “Oh God. I feel it, Oscar, fuck, fuck, fuck—”

“Tell me. Describe it.”

Your jaw locks, and your arms give up, flying down towards the grass, round ass high up in the air as he continues his movements. He groans at the sight, slapping your sweaty skin. Whining, you look back at him, grinning from ear to ear. The Australian looks up at the open sky, trying his best to push back the feeling of his upcoming orgasm, but it's hard to ignore the fact that an absolute angel takes him like no other.

And an Angel you were.

“Can feel your cock, Oscar. The way it pulses—so thick, so veiny, so sweet.”

An Angel with a vocabulary of Heathen.

“God, fuck me harder, please, Oscar, please.” He’s pretty sure you’re half-gone, half-present, but it only adds to the lust he carries for you. Just then, you feel the fresh cherry pressed up against your lips. Open, he demands and you follow straight away, ripping it from its stem. You nearly choke on the seed when he suddenly speeds up, limbs and arms burning from holding upright. For a moment, you stare back with an open mouth, admiring over the way his abs contract with every brutal push.

“Now spit.” Two seeds fly out towards the grass, laying there to taunt you as you pick up on your moans, ringing through the air. If you squint hard enough, you can spot the stars that mock the daylight sky. It doesn’t make sense, but then again, none of this does. “So pretty, sweetheart.” You swoon, feeling his arms hold you down. “Again—open.”

You’re expecting another set of cherries, thinking this might be some sort of prize, but as soon as you feel the familiar stick, you pout. No, you cry out. He chuckles. “Yes.” A pause. “You only get to come until you tie a knot.”

“You’re not being f-fair, holy shit.” Long fingers rub slowly against your puffy clit, throbbing with pain, begging to come all of his numbing girth. You clench your jaw, eyes screwed shut.

“We don’t have all night, go on. Move that pretty little mouth of yours.”

It’s a mission, it’s a task, it’s a fucking wreck. It’s impossible. You’re not that surprised, though, not when he thrusts into with twice as much force, triple speed; what a man. Loose tongue swirls at a weak attempt, but then he pinches your swollen bud, and you’re back to square one. You’re nearly there, excited to prove to him how much you wanted this and how you were able to multitask, but then he’s pulling all the way back, only his rosy tip awaiting by your entrance, and he’s coming back down, full-throttle.

It was cruel.

But two can play that game, you suppose.

You pull away quickly, he blinks, and then you’re pushing him back, sprawled on the grass. He nearly whines from missing your warm cunt, but as soon as you climb to sit on his face, he grows more and more turned on. “Go on,” you push. “Use that pretty little tongue of yours.”

Dark eyes stare up at you, enjoying the way your body moves, hips rolling, riding his face at an impressive rate. The white nectar you're willing to spill out makes him lap at an embarrassing speed, desperate to taste the sweetness.

Meanwhile, you’re gripping his hair, trying to feign indifference with the way his nose rubs against your lips, the way he keeps you in place with his watch covered hand, the other playing with your clit. It’s even, this is fair, but you still needed to reach your end.

“I’m close,” you moan, head rolling back, but jaw continuing to tick. He hums and the vibrations cause you to squeeze your legs around his face. That seems to make him enjoy this far more. Unless you show me you’ve done it, then no, you’re not coming anytime soon. Your molars grind harder, white spots forming throughout your vision. “Shut up, just—fucking stop talking.”

“What do y’know? Miss Perfection has a potty mouth.” He pokes his tongue against your hole. “Dirty girl, eh?”

With one final suck, and one soft moan, you cum all over him. The Australian is quick to lick you clean, groaning pathetically deep. Gasping, you fall from your climax, slightly twitching with sensibility as he hauls you onto his lap. You giggle when he raises a teasing brow.

“You got away with it—this time.”

“There’s going to be a second time?”

He stiffens, trying to play it cool. “Well, not anymore, you didn’t do what I asked for you to do—”

Opening your mouth, you stick your red tongue out, displaying the most perfect knot. He gapes, sticking his fingers in to retrieve it. “H-how?” A beat, sharp and accusing eyes. “Seriously, how?”

“Does it matter?” you ask, wide eyes back on for show. “I did it.”

“I…yeah, yeah you did,” he repeats in disbelief. He laughs. “You’re wickedly talented. That's an art.”

“Thanks,” you mumble, slowly, mixed with a giggle. “I tried my best for you.”

“I see that.” The brown eyed boy pinches your hip. “How was it?”

Sighing dreamily, as if napping on a cloud, your eyes twinkle. “I get it now. Why people have casual sex, I mean. It was amazing. Thank you.”

Casual, casual, casual, yes. Of course this was casual, why wouldn’t it be casual? He’s not looking to have anyone new in his life, and you’re barely understanding what any of this is, so yeah. Casual.

“Was I bad?” you ponder, chewing on your bottom lip. “I know I’m no professional, but I—”

“You were perfect,” he reassures with a soft smile. “Best thing to come around, solemnly swear.” Swatting his arm, he snickers, catching your hand. You purse your lips. “I was right,” he murmurs when his lips graze over your own. You open your mouth, waiting for more.

“About?”

“You tasting as sweet as a Cherry Cola.” Then he connects your lips, and you’re left utterly smitten. You can hardly feel him slip your ring off, but you know so when your finger feels empty since the moment you first put it on. “Guess you won’t be needing this anymore?”

“Guess not, no. Keep it.”

“Could take it to a Pawn Shop, sell it for a couple dollars…”

“Hey! Be nice, you dimwit,” you warn. “You should feel special. Stupidly special.”

“I’m kidding. I’ll cherish it.”

“Creep.”

He groans, slapping your ass as you squeal. “There’s no right or wrong answer, it seems like. Very well, let's just leave it at thanks. So…thank you for trusting me.” You blush, looking away. Awkwardly, you reach for your dress, slipping it over your head. He coughs, dressing himself before choking back a much needed chuckle. “Looks like we got dragged through the mud.”

“Ah, ew, I can’t. I need to shower.”

Reaching your end of the hallway, you press your back up against the wooden door as you sheepishly giggle when Oscar does the same. “Okay then…see you around?”

“Around town?”

“Around the house.”

“In the garden?”

“In the attic, too, maybe. It still needs a good sweep.”

He rolls his eyes. “Do we still have time?”

“Before your parents get back from Costa Rica?”

“Yes.”

“Which is in—”

“A week.”

“Which is—”

“Seven days.”

“And roughly…”

“Enough time.”

“Enough time to do what?”

He laughs, eyes crinkling suggestively, and your heart pounds hard against your ribcage. “Come here and I’ll show you.”

“Yeah,” you ponder in deep thought before your lips stretch out into a bright smile of your own. He raises dark brows as you scurry over with bruised knees, a muddy dress, and an exploding heart. “Yeah, okay. Just until they get back.”

taglist: @blueflorals @starmanv @coolio2195 @lovrsm @weekendlusting@chanshintien @brune77e @myownwritings @timmychalametsstuff @milasexutoire@alesainz @c-losur3 @darleneslane @togazzo @urfavnoirette @namgification @lpab @d3kstar @anniee-mr @nebarious

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spaceboyden · 2 months ago

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i was in a bad mood so i’m writing a jeckole fic where Jecka is mad at Nicole bc she’s flirting with Ari at a party right in front of her. Jecka gets jealous and leaves. Nicole doesn’t get it bc “Ari is so easy” and “It’s not like we’re in a real relationship anyways.”

Jecka refuses to cry in front of Nicole so she storms off and leaves her at the party and Nicole can’t help the pit she feels in her stomach. It doesn’t make sense why Jecka would be upset, they’re not dating they just fuck around sometimes.

She gets home and this put in her stomach just wont go away, it can’t possibly be guilt or an actual human emotion, no. She can’t take it so she walks to Jecka’s house and acts like a loser from a 2010s romcom, throwing rocks at her window so she can apologize.

She says some form of an apology even though “I don’t even know why you’re acting like a bitch, I don’t even like Ari I like you.” and that’s enough of a confession for Jecka so they make out the end

#class of 09 #Jeckole brainrot will never die #jeckole snippet

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pinksilvace · 7 months ago

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! PAC NYC CATS SPOILERS !

What I remember from the show, feat. some official photos

This is all going off of my note-less memories so there may be some minor inaccuracies to these recollections.

Welcoming Remarks/Overture

The crowd was welcomed by the voice of Junior LaBeija, who encouraged us to google him before shutting our phones down.

We were encouraged to make noise at any and all parts of the performance

Filming, even during bows, was strictly prohibited

This show is LOUD. I wore ear plugs the entire time, and I don't consider myself to be particularly sensitive to noise. It makes sense, considering that the audience is meant to yell and the music has to be heard over them.

The theater space itself was relatively small. All seats were good seats.

Mr. Mistoffelees (Robert "Silk" Mason) could be seen dancing through the window set pieces above the back of the stage.

Jellicle Songs for Jellicle Cats

(clip)

The cast began all around the theater, with spotlights illuminating them as they began to sing. They did not mount the stage until the "Mystical Divinity" portion of the song.

The crowd went WILD at the part that has had its choreography revealed already.

The Naming of Cats

The "Man over there" bit was done by Antwayn Hopper (Macavity). In general, he seemed to be having an absolute blast throughout the show.

During the parts where cats sharing the names in the poem were mentioned, spotlights illuminated them.

Munkustrap led this number and was the only one onstage for the duration of it.

The White Cat Solo

(clip)

Compared to how this is presented in replica productions, the dance moves were very fast.

I am uncertain as to whether this part was meant to characterize Victoria, or if it was just a great chance for BABY (Victoria) to show off her incredible dancing skills.

The Old Gumbie Cat

Jennyanydots (Xavier Reyes) began the number by pulling out a trophy, showing she'd won at balls in the past

During the day, it was implied (I think?) that Jennyanydots has lots of sex. Whether it's sex work, a sugar daddy situation, etc. was unclear. What I can say is that she did lots of bouncing - on other actors, on the edge of the stage, and on a chair.

At night, Jennyanydots is a very harried single Latina mother trying to keep her kids out of trouble.

Instead of Jenny competing in a category herself, Cassandra (Emma Sofia)(implied to be one of Jenny's children, either literally or metaphorically) competed while Jenny directed her choreography from the sidelines.

The Rum Tum Tugger

VERY laid back. This is definitely Jason Derulo's version of Tugger, but done so incredibly right. He was honestly a bit too effortless for how easily he won categories.

It's not shown in this photo, but he wore a gold and black striped fur coat throughout most of the show, sort of like Munkustrap's grey and black one (shown above, with Jenny)

There wasn't very much choreography in this number, save for a bit at the very end where he was facing off "Pretty Boy vs. Thug"

Grizabella the Glamour Cat

Grizabella ("Temptress" Chastity Moore) approached the side of the stage and killed the mood. Everyone kind of just avoided her. Munkustrap tried to talk her into going away, but she refused. He then tried to pay her actual cash to leave, but she stood her ground.

Sillabub (Teddy Wilson Jr.) approached her curiously and backed off at a very subtle warning from Demeter (Bebe Nicole Simpson). (I have to add on that Sillabub wore an orange t-shirt, short pink overalls, and orange converse shoes with a crown of sunflowers on their head. They were easily my favorite character.)

Grizabella showed off a trophy she had won in a previous ball and implored the interim judges to let her compete. They refused.

This Grizabella was almost frighteningly determined.

Bustopher Jones

For the performance I saw, Garnet Williams filled in for Nora Schell, with Tara Lashan Clinkscales filling in for Bombalurina.

Bustopher was referred to with they/them pronouns.

A large portion of this number was spent with Bustopher walking around the theater. When they mounted the stage, they pulled open their shirt to reveal a bustier emblazoned with the English flag.

Bustopher competed and won in the "Body" category. They continued to remain present throughout the rest of the show.

Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer

(clip)

It is specified both in the program and during the number that these two are from Victoria Grove, New Jersey

Those New Jersey accents were aggressive

"one of the goyles suddenly misses her woolworth poyles"

Honestly, I wouldn't expect anything less from them

During the Macavity scare preceding this number, Macavity dropped off some trash bags filled with clothes for Bombalurina and Demeter. Mungojerrie (Jonathan Burke) and Rumpleteazer (Dava Huesca) attempted to steal these.

During the second verse, both changed costumes behind some costume racks on either side of the stage.

They competed in the "Tag Team" category against Victoria and Tumblebrutus (Primo) and lost. They then stole the trophy, which Victoria and Tumblebrutus stole back.

Anyway I just desperately need other US productions to give them New Jersey accents

Old Deuteronomy

Munkustrap (Dudney Joseph Jr.) was the only one onstage for the first part of this

Tugger (Sydney James Harcourt) approached the side of the stage and grasped Munkustrap's arm at the "numerous progeny" line

The stage was left empty for Old Deuteronomy (André De Shields) to walk out on

Before he walked out, Sillabub threw flower petals all over it

Mr. Mistoffelees (Robert "Silk" Mason) pulled out Old Deuteronomy's chair for him

There was a VERY long pause for applause when Old Deuteronomy reached his throne at the far end of the catwalk. He turned in a very slow circle. We made eye contact.

Song of the Jellicles/The Jellicle Ball

(clip)

During the Macavity scare, Macavity strides up to Old Deuteronomy. Old Deuteronomy waves him back out of the room in a way that honestly looked like magic. (It's worth noting at this point that the Macavity in this production is a goofy role.)

Because of how the stage is set up, most parts of the dance number were done with only 2-5 actors onstage at a time. When there was a larger group, the dancing remained mostly sedentary.

No mating dance

Grizabella appeared on one of the high balconies. Sillabub waved enthusiastically at her. Everybody else just stared at her.

Many categories were competed in during this part. One of them was sort of an "anything goes" (I forget the exact name) category, in which Munkustrap came out in a golden ensemble with giant wings. Old Deuteronomy didn't like it. Munkustrap gave him sass.

Memory (part 1)

Old Deuteronomy walked out of the room along with everybody else (I THINK.) Grizabella approached the side of the stage, took off the scarf covering her hair, and draped it over one of the railings.

Grizabella caressed the stage as she sang.

Sillabub approached the other side of the stage, watched her for a bit, and departed. They returned near the end of the number with a glittery dress, which they offered to her. Grizabella ran away.

At the end of the number, Sillabub climbs onstage to grab the scarf and look out at the audience. Cut to black.

Moments of Happiness/Moonlight

This part took place entirely between Old Deuteronomy and Sillabub. Sillabub was still onstage, almost got scared away when Old Deuteronomy returned, and knelt in front of him.

As Old Deuteronomy sang about happiness through many generations, he tied the scarf around Sillabub's neck.

While all of this happened, old photos and reports about old balls were being projected on a large screen at the back of the stage. There was then a listing of old house mothers. Most of these were real. The final name listed was Grizabella's.

The rest of the cast joins in for Moonlight, stationed all around the theater. Bombalurina and Demeter were right next to me on the lower balcony. Bombalurina smiled at me.

Gus the Theater Cat

Shereen Pimentel (Jellylorum) was AMAZING.

Gus (Junior LaBeija) was only present for this number and the bows. Most of his lines were performed like spoken word poetry rather than through song.

There was no show-within-a-show piece after this number, but Gus did say the "I once played Rumpus Cat" line. At the very end was Tumblebrutus (I THINK) re-enacting a young Gus a la Grizabella in Tecklenburg 2015.

Skimbleshanks the Railway Cat

(clip)

AGGRESSIVELY a New Yorker in the same way Mungo and Rumple were from New Jersey. Queen of the subways.

Skimbleshanks' (Emma Sofia's) hair had tiger stripes!!!

Lyrics were both English and Spanish (?), especially during the "it was very pleasant" part

She lost her category against Rumpleteazer. They embraced and continued to dance together for the rest of the song.

Macavity the Mystery Cat/"The Fight"

Macavity (with a comically evil cackle and some Hanna-Barbera-style running around) dropped off some more trash bags through one of the windows in the back, which Demeter unpacked. As it turned out, those bags were filled with designer products.

"Macavity wasn't there" was a line used to refer to the fact that Macavity was supposed to be competing but didn't show up on time

Oh yeah, Demeter and Bombalurina were members of the House of Macavity

After Macavity proved to Old Deuteronomy that all of the products were genuine, they all got dressed up and competed in "Labels". The House of Macavity won.

Members of the losing team found attached tags on the products, indicating that the items were shoplifted.

As police sirens blared and blue and white lights flew around the room, Old Deuteronomy ushered Macavity to leave the venue. The police officers entered, looked around the audience, and then looked on the stage, where Old Deuteronomy stood in front of the bags of stolen goods and gave himself up as the perpetrator of the crime.

Macavity returns looking downright distraught.

Magical Mr. Mistoffelees

(clip)

It was much more believable to see everybody turning their backs on Tugger in this production than any other I've seen

Mr. Mistoffelees was referred to with he/him pronouns, so that's what I'm using here

Mr. Mistoffelees is introduced as a ballroom dancer who meets success, in part, by magic-ing his opponents into having wardrobe and performance malfunctions.

He also steals their stuff but I'm unsure whether that has to do with saving Old Deut or if it's just enriching for him

Old Deuteronomy was magicked into a box and stood very still when the curtain was pulled off. When Macavity approached, Old Deuteronomy jumpscared him.

After the song was done, Tugger and Mistoffelees kissed. They were not, as I have seen others say, eating each other's faces; it was very chaste and tender and lasted for just a handful of seconds. The audience went wild, of course.

Memory (part 2)

Grizabella came out in the dress Sillabub had offered earlier

Maybe I was reading too much into it but it looked to me like Old Deuteronomy and Sillabub conspired together to make her reappearance happen

This song was sung in a lower key than usual to better suit Temptress' voice

She looked so uncertain the whole time

Journey to the Heaviside Layer

A big staircase hinged down to the stage, just like in replica productions

Grizabella left through a door at the top of the stairs. Through it, the sounds of New York City could be heard.

The Ad-dressing of Cats

This song makes WAY MORE SENSE in this production in OG Cats, in my opinion. There, it sometimes feels like a bit of a slog. Here, it reinforced the core message of the show about accepting people as they are. To me, the context made it much more powerful.

These last few numbers were loud even through my ear plugs and I don't know why.

The ensemble (Frank Viveros and Shelby Griswold) brought the cast flutes of champagne

Bows

Munkustrap announced each member of the cast as they did individual dances down the stage. This was one of the only songs unrelated to Cats music.

Tugger did a striptease.

After all of the actors, the conductor came out vogueing down the stage.

Afterward, the cast began singing the "practical cats, dramatical cats" portion of Jellicle Songs. I sang enthusiastically along, catching Bustopher's eye. They blew me a kiss.

Other thoughts

Electra (Kendall Grayson Stroud) EASILY had my favorite costume: a holographic top and little black skirt with a huge ruffled rainbow coat over it

Victoria's costume changes made her much less noticeable than usual, especially as she mostly served as a member of the ensemble (I don't think anything in particular about this choice; I just found it interesting)

Despite all of the changes, this very much felt like a production of cats. Even though the actors were staged to be humans, they did nothing else to emphasize it. All of the lyrics were true to replica cats productions.

Where ballroom beats were implemented, they never distracted from the songs they were placed into. They actually enhanced the songs very nicely.

Almost all of the changes made to the original story make sense in the context of this production. I.e., Alonzo's absence makes sense because his role is no longer necessitated. Same with Coricopat and Tantomile.

I am in LOVE with this Sillabub. I really cannot emphasize that enough. They had so much youthful whimsy and KILLED those high notes. They should have been frolicking but instead they were at the club smh

Understated Tugger was an interesting look, and I think it worked well, considering that this Mistoffelees was definitely the most eye-catching member of the cast.

It was actually really cool to see a production where Macavity is accepted as one of the tribe. I fully believe that Mungojerrie learned a few pointers from this one. Again, I have to emphasize that it looked like Antwayn Hopper had the time of his life in this role.

Speaking of, there may have been some Deut bros (Tugger+Munkustrap+Macavity) staging, but I don't remember clearly enough to say for sure.

Most of the transfer of the story made sense... except for the stuff surrounding Grizabella. I've seen the directors talk about ageism in the ballroom community, but with how much emphasis this production put on respect for elders via Old Deuteronomy and Gus and the lack of general contempt from the cast, I honestly don't know why she would have been outcast to begin with. I also have no idea why she ran away from Sillabub.

I kind of wish there had been more extreme makeup, but most of the cast switched between their characters and ensemble roles frequently, so it makes sense. It didn't make the show any worse.

Overall, this was an incredible production that deserves the praise it is given. Yes, I think a number of Cats fans are casting too much judgement on the creative decisions. Yes, I think too many reporters have dunked on the original Cats staging more than is warranted in order to prop this production up. Regardless of those two factors, it was clear that the cast and creative team had a real love for both Cats and ballroom, and I think they married the two concepts beautifully.

#fern muses #cats the musical #pac nyc cats #spoilers

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seramilla · 8 months ago

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Okay so I loved the Charlie asks Carmilla for her blessing in the related to Vaggie AU.

So my idea is for the proposal that Charlie sings to Vaggie before kneeling and asking after she finishes singing.

One of my go to songs for Charlie x Vaggie is Safe With Me by Megan Nicole

Charlie would definitely sing to Vaggie when she proposes. No question. That one's a good one.

Charlie is so nervous in the hours leading up to her proposal to Vaggie, she can practically hear her own brain vibrating inside her skull. Will the mood be right? Is she being too presumptuous about this? Is Vaggie even ready for this type of commitment? Will her partner say no???

Charlie wipes sweat from her brow so many times during dinner, and has to hold herself down to keep from bouncing in her seat at the theater. She's able to get out some of her nervous energy when they go dancing, and the entire time that she's dipping, twirling, and gliding with Vaggie out on the dance floor, Charlie is reminded how beautiful her partner is. Every movement they share is fluid like a breeze over water, and it almost takes Charlie's mind off the stress about proposing within the next hour.

Eventually they make it back to the Hotel, and just as a treat, Charlie and Vaggie climb up to the roof, to their own secret spot. From up there, they can kind of get away from the smog of Pentagram City, and see a huge expanse of the Pride ring from their vantage point. Vaggie dangles her feet off the side of the roof, swinging them back and forth with excitement, like she's dancing all over again.

Charlie looks over at her, smiles, and bites her lip. She reaches for the little black box in the pocket of her suit pants. The pants to the white tuxedo that she wore specifically for this occasion, which complements Vaggie's golden dress so nicely. Charlie doesn't think her partner has ever looked so beautiful.

"Umm...Vaggie?" Charlie asks.

"Yeah, hon?"

Vaggie stops swinging her feet and looks at Charlie. The angel's expression is so serene, so fulfilled, like Charlie has already granted every one of her most cherished wishes in life. Charlie swallows hard. Maybe she has. But she hopes to fulfill even one more.

Charlie grips the box in her pocket again, biting her bottom lip.

"Vaggie...I want you to know how much I really, really enjoyed this anniversary with you. I can't believe it's already been 5 years since we started dating...and even longer since we met. I never knew on that Extermination day that my life would ever change this much. I feel like...from the moment I met you, you made me want to be a better person. Actually made me a better person. I don't know where I'd be without you."

Vaggie smiles. "Awww! Thank you so much, sweetie! I feel the same way! If you hadn't rescued me...Heaven knows where I'd be right now!"

Vaggie leans in closely to Charlie, giving the princess a sweet, lingering kiss on her increasingly chapped lips. Charlie's been licking them all night out of nervousness. They're pretty dry and gross by this point. If Vaggie notices, she doesn't say anything; just looks over at Charlie with the same affection and adoration, as always.

Charlie nods, rubbing the back of her head with the hand not currently holding onto the box in her pocket.

"Yes! Me too! I feel like you saved me, too, Vaggie! From my own self-doubt...and just me in general. I was such a mess before I met you."

Charlie fiddles with the box again, turning it over and over in her pocket, as if it will somehow fuel the bravery she needs to say what she wants to next.

"So...I'm...I really wanted to make this night special for you. Because I love you so much! And I want to have so many more nights like this with you. Every night. Forever. For the rest of my life. You're everything to me."

Charlie doesn't wait any longer. When it looks like Vaggie might lean in for another kiss, Charlie pulls the box out of her pocket, opens it, and shows Vaggie the ring she'd had custom-made just for her. It's beautiful, with a single white diamond embedded in a simple gold band, because Charlie knows Vaggie doesn't like excessively flashy gifts. If Vaggie's enraptured expression is any indication, Charlie had gotten it right with this one.

As the angel's eyes widen, realizing what's happening, Charlie proposes to her partner in song. Putting voice to all the ways that Vaggie was meant for her, that they were meant to be together, in the way that only Charlie can, when she's singing from her heart. Vaggie sits and listens patiently, eyes sparkling like stars. When Charlie is finished, and leans back down to kneel in front of her, she pops the question in her regular voice.

"Vaggie," Charlie starts, licking her dry lips one more time for good measure, "Would you make me the happiest woman by marrying me?...And if you have to say no -- which you are perfectly within your right to do -- would you let me down easy?"

"Charlie, wait..."

"I mean, I'm just really emotional right now, and that's not your fault, you're not responsible for my feelings, but I don't know if I could handle it if you--"

"Charlie!!"

"Yes?! I'm sorry! What?!"

Vaggie moves in closer to Charlie, where she's kneeling in front of her on top of the Hazbin Hotel, under one of the most unromantic skylines in all the seven Rings. Vaggie takes the ring out of Charlie's little box, and puts it on her ring finger. It's a perfect fit, as Charlie knew it would be.

She leans in again to kiss Charlie's lips. Slowly and softly, like she wants it to last forever. By the time the two pull away, it's apparent to Charlie that Vaggie is crying.

"Yes!" Vaggie says, taking both of Charlie's hands in hers. "You are such a goofball! Yes, Charlie, I'll marry you! Of course, I will!"

Charlie's face goes from scared, to disbelief, to realization, to elation in a matter of seconds. Squealing and wrapping her arms tightly around Vaggie, she lifts the fallen angel off the roof, twirling her around like they're one of those couples on top of a spinning music box.

"Oh, thank you, Vaggie!" Charlie squeals. Then Charlie is crying, too, happy tears mixing in with the sound of her laughter. "Oh, baby, I love you so much! You make me so happy, Vaggie!"

Once Charlie has stopped spinning, Vaggie brings her dizzy girlfriend's lips back to hers, and whispers against her mouth, "Me too, Charlie. I am the luckiest person in Hell to get to be with you. Thank you saving me...and keeping me."

The two seal their proclamations with another passionate kiss, and then spend the rest of the night celebrating their engagement, in their own special way.

#hazbin hotel #charlie morningstar #vaggie #vaggie hazbin hotel #ask #fan theories #chaggie #vaggie carmilla related au

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therealcocoshady · 11 months ago

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Recovery - Chapter 25

Eminem x FemReader Fanfiction

Summary : Em has trouble handling the breakup when Jamal shows up with bad news.

Tags : ANGST, Comfort

MARSHALL’S POV

The hardest part about grieving his relationship with Y/N was that he didn’t really have anyone to talk to about it, since they hardly told anyone. The only people who knew about the breakup were Talia, Jamal and Hailie. For obvious reasons, he didn’t feel like telling his daughter how sad he was over a relationship she didn’t approve of. Jamal had actually reached out a couple of times, saying that he was sorry it was over with Y/N and that he was here if he needed to talk, but seeing as he was his ex’s roommate, Marshall didn’t feel too comfortable with the idea.

Ever since the breakup, a couple weeks ago, he was in a state of constant mood swings : he would find himself in his bedroom, staring at the ceiling for hours, before being overcome by anger, followed by deep sadness. He was fifty-one, feeling like a heart-broken teenager, lonely and sad in a huge house whose every corner reminded him of Y/N. It was the most depressing place in the world and yet, there was nowhere else he’d rather be. This led him to do something extremely out of character : canceling studio sessions for two weeks and staying in bed most of the time. He also dodged most calls and failed to answer texts - not that he was too good at keeping up with it anyway. Most of the time, he wondered where Y/N was at, what she was doing, how she was feeling. The sadness he had seen in her eyes as they parted ways haunted him.

It was sunday and, as usual, he was having his kids and their significant others over for family brunch. He tried his best to put on a happy face but to no avail.

Dad ? Are you even listening to me ? Stevie asked, interrupting his train of thoughts.

Sorry, I wasn’t, he admitted. Mind repeating ?

I was thinking of getting a pet snake. I just don’t know which one yet.

That made him chuckle for the first time in a week. Stevie and pets - a greater love story than most.

Don’t you have enough of a zoo ? He asked. It’s a lot of work. And don’t forget school.

I know, Dad. “School is important, blah, blah, blah”, she gestured imitating him.

Well it’s my job to remind you, he shrugged. Anyway, don’t count on me for pet-sitting.

Me neither, Hailie said with a hint of disgust.

Neither, Alaina chimed in.

Fine, Stevie said as she rolled her eyes.

Marshall went back to his thoughts, letting his kids argue about what kind of unusual pet was the worst : spiders or snakes. He thought about Y/N and how she would feel about the debate, knowing full-well that she had a phobia of both.

It’s probably not too wise to have a pet snake with a baby on the way, though, Stevie said.

This caused Marshall to spit his orange juice.

You’re pregnant ?! He blurted out.

Now we’ve got your attention, she said with a grin as everyone laughed. I’m kidding.

Very funny, he said sarcastically. Thanks for the heart attack by the way. I’m not ready to be a grandpa just yet.

You do know that Hailie and I are older than you when you became a Dad, right ? Alaina asked.

True, he hummed. Stevie is not, though. You can’t have a baby, you’re still one.

I’m 21, she said as she rolled her eyes. But relax, I don’t want kids anyway.

That’s my girl, he said with a smile.

All I’m saying is that you could be a grandpa someday soon, Alaina continued. Now that we’re married, Matt and I might decide to start trying.

You’d be good parents, he said with a smile. I mean, I’ll never be ready for that day, but I guess a new addition to the family would be welcome. Not a snake, though.

How about you ? Stevie asked.

What about me ? He hummed.

Well you broke up with Nicole months ago, but maybe you’ll be the one bringing someone new to the family, she said. We’re out of the house and we don’t want you to be lonely, right ? I swear, it feels like you’re not even trying…

He stared at Hailie who tried to hide a scoff by faking a cough. Obviously, she had been true to her words and hadn’t told her sisters anything - not that there was anything to say anymore…

Let’s put it this way, he sighed. There’s more chances of me getting a pet snake than bringing a lady into this family.

His tone was dry and sarcastic. Now that Y/N was gone, he felt like he might actually end up alone. But in the end, he wasn’t sure he wanted to be with anyone if he wasn’t with her. The perspective of even holding the hand of someone else was rebutting to him. Hailie looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

We’re short on pancakes, she said. I’ll make some. Help me in the kitchen, Dad ?

That was a lame excuse, but he followed her anyway.

What’s wrong with you ? She asked with a worried face once they were alone.

Nothing, he said.

Dad… You haven’t paid attention all day, you look like you haven’t slept in ages and you implied that there’s nothing going on in your love life when we both know it’s not true, she stated.

There’s nothing going on anymore, Hay, he said dryly. Now, I don’t mean to be rude, but I would appreciate it if you waited for me to leave the kitchen before you do some happy dance of celebration.

Don’t snap at me, she said as her eyebrows furrowed.

Sorry, he said as he pinched the area between his eyes. You’re right. I am tired and I shouldn’t be taking it out on anyone.

So… It’s over ? She asked calmly.

Yeah.

He didn’t bother commenting on the circumstances of the breakup.

Want to talk about it ? She offered.

I’m good, he said as he took her in his arms. I just need some rest. I’m taking a small break from recording, that’ll do me some good.

I thought you were close to being done with the new album ?

It can wait, he said. I need to chill for a bit.

I’m worried for you, Dad…

Don’t. I’ll get over it, he said.

“Chickens they come they go”, she playfully sung his lyrics.

Thanks for quoting the clean version, he chuckled.

They shared a laugh. In this moment, he was grateful for his family and especially his daughters.

6 WEEKS LATER

The two week break ended up turning into a month and a half long one. He came up with various excuses but in the end, it didn’t really matter. He didn’t feel like seeing anyone besides his family and he was in no mood to work anyway. Everytime he tried to write something, it felt like a disaster. His inspiration seemed to have run dry.

However, his friends were persistent and, once they understood that he was definitely screening the calls, they took turns showing up at his place to make sure he was alright. The official version was that he was a bit burnt-out. He was not sure if he should come clean about his breakup. He was starting to feel the need to talk about it, to talk about Y/N. She had tried to call him a couple of times but he did not pick up. Not that he didn’t want to, though. He just knew it would hurt too much.

Jamal had also reached out a couple more times but Marshall did not answer. He thought his friend got the hint, but he ended up showing up unannounced, late one night.

Anyone dies ? Marshall asked after greeting him.

Might as well be you, Jamal answered. We haven’t heard from you in ages, man. And no offense, but you look deceased, too.

Well… You know.

They stared at each other in agreement.

Can I come in ? His friend finally asked. I brought you some stuff.

You didn’t have to, man.

It’s just a pack of red bull, food Talia made for you, some beats for you to listen to and a care package.

A care package ? Marshall asked amused. What are you ? My great-aunt ?

Actually, it’s from Y/N.

Oh, he simply said.

He gestured for Jamal to come in and they went to the living room.

Thank Talia for me, he said as he rummaged through the bags his friends had brought.

Will do.

Should I wait for you to leave to open the mystery package ? He asked.

Up to you, man, Jamal said. I mostly came to check up on you. We’re all worried about you.

I appreciate it, man. Thanks. I’m good. I just need some time to adjust, you know ? He said.

I bet, Jamal replied. It’s going to be weird, not having her hanging out at the studio anymore. We all got used to her being there.

Well, we decided to remain friends, Marshall explained. So, she’s welcome anytime. I know everyone loves her and I don’t want it to be weird.

Jamal looked at him with a confused expression.

You really have unplugged, haven’t you ?

Sort of, yeah. Why ?

His friend kept on staring at him for a few seconds. It was uncomfortable and it felt as if he was about to tell him that a zombie apocalypse had erupted.

Man, I don’t know how to tell you this but…. She’s gone, Jamal said.

What do you mean ? Marshall asked.

Shit. I thought you knew, or at least that you had a vague idea… I know you didn’t pick up her calls, but she tried to text you. Several times, his friend explained.

What does it fucking mean ? He asked as he was starting to lose his patience. What do you mean she’s gone ?!

We drove her to the airport this afternoon, man. She’s moving back to France. She just handed her doctoral dissertation and she pulled something to convince them to let her do the defense thing remotely.

Why would she do that ? Marshall scoffed.

Dude, she’s a mess, Jamal said. She wouldn’t get out of her room for days. She barely ate, didn’t sleep. Talia had to help her showering and shit. We almost sent her to a psych ward. She stopped talking for weeks.

Why didn’t you call me ?! He asked angrily. Why am I just finding out now ?

She made me swear not to, man. She couldn’t face you. When she took the decision to move back, we convinced her to let you know, but I guess you didn’t see the texts…

She’s… gone ? Marshall asked again, in disbelief.

Yeah. You should check the package, Jamal said. When she didn’t get any response from you, she prepared it and told me to give it to you once she was gone. I have no idea what’s in there, though.

Marshall wasted no time and tore up the carefully wrapped bow to unveil what was inside. There were a bunch of envelopes and two presents.

I can leave you to it, if you want, Jamal offered.

I don’t mind, Marshall shrugged as he kept on staring at the content of the box. Fuck. I had no idea she would fucking leave…

He went back to his unboxing. He opened a first envelope, that contained a few pictures of them, that she had printed : a selfie of the whole crew, taken on the first day they met - she was shyly posing next to him as he flipped the camera -, two picture from their time in the hospital - a selfie of her as she pointed to him asleep in a chair next to her bed and a selfie of the two of them laying in bed next to each other - as well as the selfies they had taken as a couple. He looked at the pictures for a long time, failing to believe he wouldn’t see that face again and that she was in a whole different time zone.

In the second envelope was a printing of the “acknowledgement” section of her dissertation. Everyone she knew from the studio was listed by name, including him, who had a whole paragraph that read “To MBMIII, thank you for welcoming me with open arms and believing in me. This work would not have been possible without your help and encouragement. Thank you for inspiring me to believe in my dreams and to lose myself in the moment and own it. In doing so, I found inspiration but also who I am. I am forever grateful for you, more than words will ever convey”. He read the paragraph at least ten times. He couldn’t believe she had actually quoted his lyrics to thank him. This made him smile and almost tear up. His heart was swelling with pride for her finally being done with her work, as well as sadness.

The third envelope contained a handwritten letter :

“Dear Marshall,

By the time you read this, I will most likely be back in France. I wish I had the chance to say goodbye in person, but you wouldn’t pick up the phone. I am not sure why, but I guess I can’t blame you. Leaving Detroit, a place I have called home for the past few years has been a tough decision - probably the hardest one after leaving you. I knew I would have to go back home eventually, but I decided to leave early because I cannot see straight anymore. Every street, every corner, every stone reminds me of you. I cannot sleep in this bed knowing I won’t wake up next to you. I cannot keep breathing and existing in all the places you made me feel seen, loved and appreciated, knowing I can’t feel you near. Every little thing is a reminder of what once was and will not be again. And being reminded that I once had everything and lost it is too much pain. But in truth, I am not writing this letter to complain, but to say thank you. You walked into my life when I needed support, and you gave me exactly what I needed : love, encouragement and inspiration. Meeting you is one of the best things that has ever happened to me and I will forever be grateful. Your generosity and everything that you are takes my breath away. But as I am writing this letter, I am reminded that I am only human, in desperate need of oxygen. I need to leave because I have to save myself from drowning. I cannot allow myself to hope that you will reach for me, as I foreswore that right - if I ever had it. I broke both of our hearts but I am hopeful that they can be mended. You deserve nothing but love, joy and happiness and I pray that you find it wherever you go, whatever you do, whoever you meet.

I love you and I always will.

Yours forever,

Y/N

PS : I hope you don’t mind the cheesy quotation of your lyrics. I have been catching up on your music because I needed to hear your voice. Also, it is hard to exist without your talent and your way with words.

PPS : I have finally listened to your whole catalog. Every single, every album, every feature. I did not think it was possible, but it makes me love you even more.”

Marshall could feel his heart sink as he read her letter. He could feel her sadness and her pain, her bleeding love in each word. He wished that he could reach her and pull her close to him. At that moment, he knew that letting her go was his biggest mistake. Tears welled up in his eyes.

Fuck, he said.

You good ? Jamal asked after a few seconds, reminding him of his presence.

I… I guess.

He finally opened the two presents. These were fancy packages from Montblanc. He scoffed, as he definitely didn’t deserve such a big gesture. If anything, he should be the one to treat her to the finer things in life, not the other way around. In the first package was a beautiful leather embossed notebook with a note written in pencil on the first page : “May you be inspired to fill these pages with good rhymes and good bars. I cannot wait to listen to the whole album. You got this and I believe in you.”.

The second package contained a fancy, beautiful pen. From the looks of it, it was a collectible. The first thing he did with it was to write her name underneath her note, in ink. He needed her name to be there, permanently.

By the time he was done opening the presents, he was openly sobbing and it didn’t matter that Jamal or anyone else was here. For the first time in ages, the pain in his chest was so real that he thought he would have a heart attack. He found himself bent in two, crouching on the couch, sobbing and feeling every bit of the pain he had tried to suppress. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe deeply. He tried to focus on happy thoughts, but he couldn’t think of anything. The only image in his brain was her face.

FUCK, he screamed into the nothingness.

Every emotion he had ever felt, every moment of pain and grief seemed to hit him all at once. His mom, his bullies, Ronnie, Kim, Proof, his overdose, Y/N.

Fuck, he whispered under his breath. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

It was all he would say.

Marshall, he heard Jamal say in an echo. Do you need anything ? Anyone ?

Y/N, he said as he kept sobbing. I need Y/N. I need her. I need to talk to her. My phone. Now.

He heard Jamal hurry and rummage through the mess in his living room, trying to find his phone before handing it to him. He turned it on for the first time in days and he was immediately flooded by the incoming notifications that caused the phone to lag for a bit. He had about a hundred phone calls, a thousand unread emails and about fifty unread texts. Most of them were from his manager, his friends and his kids, but a few of them were from Y/N. She had really tried to reach out to him.

From Y/N : I hope you’re doing well. I need to talk to you. Can you please call me back ?

From Y/N : Please call back ? It’s important.

From Y/N : I can’t reach you and I wish I didn’t have to tell you over a lousy text, but I’m leaving Detroit. I’m going back to France. My plane leaves on Tuesday night.

From Y/N : I don’t know if you got my texts ? Or if you’re ignoring them ? I’d like to say goodbye. Can I come by ?

From Y/N : You probably don’t want to see me. I’m sorry for disturbing you. In case you change your mind, my plane leaves at 6:35 PM.

From Y/N : Boarding now. It’s my last text, I swear. Goodbye Marshall. I love you.

There it was. Her last text. She had actually given him the opportunity to see her one last time. He could have held her. Maybe he could have convinced her to stay. But he blew it. He needed to call her and apologize. All he wanted was to crawl back to her. He needed her. To hear her voice. Anything. He tried calling but it went straight to voicemail. By looking at the time, he guessed she was on the plane and that her phone was on airplane mode. It was too late.

He stared at the screen, feeling angry at himself. In a fit of rage, he threw the phone across the room and heard the screen break. Once he realized it meant he might not have her texts, he went to get it back. The screen was broken but still working. Once again, he felt mad. He punched the nearest wall. Then a painting. Then a mirror. In a matter of minutes, he found himself in a state, nearly trashing his living room. Jamal stopped him and held him for a long time before he stopped debating himself. Luckily, his friend was far taller and stronger than him, so he had no trouble containing him.

Man, you need to calm down. Breathe.

I can’t, Marshall replied panting. What the fuck’s happening to me ?!

The tears started to flow again, as he realized he might be losing his mind. Jamal engulfed him in a hug - something different than their usual bro-hugs. This time, he felt like a small child crying in the arms of their parents. On any other day, he’d cringe, but he was deperate.

I got you, bro, Jamal said.

She’s gone.

I know.

It took a couple of minutes for him to be able to breathe normally and think straight again.

Man, I know you’re my boss, but I’m talking as your friend here. Because I care. You need help. You’re not staying in this house by yourself, Jamal said.

As much as he wanted to protest, Marshall found himself nodding. In the studio, Jamal acted as a soldier and did as he was told, but in real life, he had a presence to him and an authority that made people think twice before discussing his orders.

It’s no Mathers Mansion, but you’re welcome to stay at my place, Jamal said.

You don’t mind ?

I don’t. You can take the couch or the guest bedroom.

Ok.

He went upstairs and started packing his stuff for a few days. As they stepped outside, he felt a sudden wave of relief. He had to get out of there. He needed to get away and recover, otherwise he would go crazy.

#eminem fluff #eminem x reader #eminem imagine #eminem fanfiction #marshall mathers x reader #marshall mathers #eminem #marshall mathers imagine #marshall mathers headcanons #slim shady

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iwillnotseeheaven · 9 months ago

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#nicole dollanganger #bad man #depressing quotes #mental health #mental illness #tw sui ideation #actually bpd #bpd #bpd mood #bpd problems #bpd stuff #bpd thoughts #tw s3lf harm #tw depressing thoughts #tw self destruction #depressing shit #tw depressing stuff #ethel cain

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melanieph321 · 8 months ago

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Erling Haaland x Reader - The Confession Part 1/2

I never thought that I'd find myself in this predicament. 😭 I'm actually quite embarrassed. But it's the gif that inspired me to write this fic so thank you @ruben-dias, for posting it.

Part 2

Summary - Erling has had a crush on Reader for a long time, but Reader is clueless about it since she never thought a guy like him could like a girl like her. Nevertheless, the truth unfolds when Erling gives Reader a ride home after a lake party with their friends.

Enjoy!

Summer in Norway was cold. Sure the temperature in the air was warmer than in the winter. But there was no way that your friends could convince you to get in the water with them.

"Come on Y/N. It's not that bad. You just gotta get through the first chock. Your body will get used to the temperature once you're in the water."

"Yeah, no thank you." You said.

There was no such thing as a first chock where you came from. Where you came from the water was swimable right away. You were fine where you were, sitting on the bank of the lake, watching your friends splashing away.

At one point you had gone to lay down, basking in the warmth of the sun. When suddenly, a large shadow was casted over you, blocking the light.

"Hot dog?"

You removed you sunglasses and was forced to tilt your head all the way back to meet the height of, "Erling?"

His eyes squinted in the sun, hair dripping wet with lake water. In his hands he carried two hot dogs coated with ketchup and mustered. "This one's for you." He said, offering you a hot dog.

You eyed the ketchup coated piece of meat, trying not to grimarce at the stench of it. "Oh, that's very sweet of you Erling, really. But I don't eat meat."

"No?"

You shook your head. "No, sorry. It was very kind of you though."

You watch Erling pull back his offering, a slight dent between his brows. "Well, can I get you something else then?"

"Huh?" You had put your shades back on, preparing to lay down again. However, Erling still stood by your side, blocking the sun.

"Can I get you something else?" He shrugged. "Maybe something to drink?"

"I don't drink."

"Not even water?" He frowned.

"What, no. I do."

"You do. Great! Water it is."

"Erling, no." You stopped him from retrieving a bottle of water from the cooler. You didn't mean to come off as rude as you did. However, water dripping from Erling's hair was dampening your towel.

"Not water? How about a soda?"

"No, Erling." You sighed. "What I was meant to say is that I'm not thristy or hungry at all. So please keep your hot dogs and leave me alone."

Erling's expression faded, like a puppy dog denied of a treat. "Right, sure." He nodded. "I'll leave you alone."

"Thank you."

You fell back onto your towel, hearing how Erling's footsteps made their way back to the lake, to the others. You wouldn't have made much of your encounter if it hadn't been for your friend, Nicole, pulling you aside at the end of the day, while everyone else helped carry things back to the cars.

"What have you done to Erling?" She asked.

"Pardon?"

"Don't act dumb Y/N. I saw the two of you talking on the beach earlier. What did you say to him?"

"What do you mean?" You thought back to your brief and quite pointless conversation. What had been so sagnificant about it?

"Look at him." Nicole said, and nudge you in the direction were Erling was helping the others load things onto the cars. But unlike the others, Erling wasn't loading things onto the cars, he was throwing them. It was impressive. How he carried an entire BBQ over his shoulders just to throw it onto the flat bed of your friend's car.

"Careful with that." You friend hissed, displeased with Erling who muttered to himself as he stomped away.

"Do you see now?" Nicole said.

"What, that Erling almost damaged Tim's dad's BBQ grill? Yeah, that was pretty foul of him."

"No, Y/N." Nicole groand. She put her hands on your shoulders, attempting to shake some sense into you. "Can't you see what mood Erling's has been in ever since the two of you talked?"

"So? What does that have to do with..."

"Because he likes you, Y/N. He really likes you and apparently you told him to leave you alone."

"I....what?" It was a little bit hard to comprehend, Erling Haaland, into you? Since when?"

"He's had a crush on you forever." Nicole explained. "But apparently everyone knows accept for you."

"Accept for me..." You mumbled, glancing towards Erling's. You saw the damage you had caused, how his usually contagious smile was totally wiped away, replaced by a deep frown that didn't really suit him.

"You should talk to him. Maybe apologize."

"Apologize?" You frowned. "But I didn't...."

"At least set things straight." Nicole nodded. "If you don't like him back at least be honest about it, maybe then he can move on."

"Right. Move on." But how the hell would you do that?

Part 2

#fanfiction #football imagine #footballer x reader #footballer imagine #man city #football angst #manchester city #erling haaland #erling haaland x reader

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junocandraw · 13 days ago

Text

JEFF THE KILLER REWRITE 1/4

Hey freaks!! Its here!! I’ve tried to post this like 100 times, but I’ve had MAJOR TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES every time. Lets hope that this is the one!

Big thanks to everyone who helped me proofread this and make it all nice and pretty. I’ve worked REALLY HARD on it, so your help was appreciated to the fullest extent.

CW: Blood, Gore, Knives, Seizures, Slenderman, ED, being lit on fire, bullying, if i missed anything please let me know.

DISCLAIMER: This is my first time putting my writing out for the masses. As you can imagine, I’m a little bit frightened. PLEASE be kind. I will take criticism as long as it is VERY VERY nice, and actually helpful. I know commas are gonna be in the wrong place sometimes, I’m human.

WITHOUT FURTHER ADO, ENJOY YOUR MONSTER ENERGY AND YOUR LOW CALORIE POPCORN AND READ MY AWESOME REWRITE!!!

The Move

Jeff leaned his pale forehead on the car’s window. It would fog up under his nose as he breathed in and out. The glass was chilly, a testament to the harsh Wisconsin wintertime. The car moved past the bland dairy farms and trees in a blur. The snowy ground contrasted harshly against the dark needles of the pines. The dull weather seemed to punctuate Jeff’s mood.

Jeff was 17, and had been since last April. He was around 5’11 in stature, with dark hair and pale skin. His eyes were light blue, just like his father’s. If you looked at him too quickly, it almost looked like he had no irises. He adorned a disgruntled expression, and his signature smudged eyeliner, both of which were things his parents hated.

“Jeff, how many times do I have to tell you not to touch the windows?” His father, Mike Woods, glared at Jeff through the rear view mirror. Jeff rolled his eyes, and slouched back in his seat dramatically to avoid his father’s gaze, “And don’t get smart with me.” His father threatened without conviction.

Jeff’s father was a short and stout man, less than desirable to look at. He stood at 5’6, head and shoulders. He was balding on the crown of his head, and his face was shaven. His bright blue eyes matched that of his eldest son. He looked grimey. Like someone that you couldn’t trust. This feeling that he emanated matched perfectly with his career in law.

Jeff became bored at sight-seeing, and turned to look at his half brother. Liu Woods sat in the backseat adjacent to him. He was 15, two years younger than Jeff. His bold, green eyes stared out of his own window. They matched very well with his light brown hair that he had inherited from his mother. He wore a black tee shirt, a green cardigan, blue jeans, and Doc Marten boots. His precious sketchbook was situated neatly in his lap. He played music in his headphones, lost in his own world as per usual.

”Are…are we at the town limits yet?” Jeff’s dull Stepmother fiddled with the phone in her hands, glancing between it and the signs on the road. Jeff’s father gave an annoyed sigh, as he answered,

“Not yet. We’ll get there when we get there, Nicole.” His Canadian accent reeked of privilege. Because of their bickering, Jeff turned his attention to his stepmother. She was a real trophy wife: A stay at home mom with bleach blonde hair, and sparkling green eyes. She was blessed with beauty (Though, it had all but faded with age), but not brains.

“How far are we from Milwaukee?” Jeff asked, having just woken up from a nap a few minutes ago. He had asked this question without ill-intent, but his father didn’t see it this way.

“Jeffery, if you bring up Milwaukee again I’m going to lose it. We’re putting that behind us. No more, do you hear me?” Jeff didn’t reply. He knew his father wouldn’t take a minute to slow down the route, so there was no point in playing his games. He instead sighed, and opened his IPod to a Black Veil Brides playlist. He decided letting his anger fester would be wiser than letting it out while his parents were agitated from the move. The move that didn’t have to happen.

Jeff was angry when he realized he had no say in the matter. It wasn’t fair. He was angry when he was packing his stuff, angry when he said bye to his friends, angry when they loaded the U-Haul van, and angry when they said goodbye to their old house. Jeff had always been angry, even when he was a little boy.

Once, when Jeff was in fourth grade, and Liu was in 2nd grade, a couple of 3rd graders had started to call Liu names from the top of a tall play structure. Jeff, protective of his younger brother, stormed up to the top of their tower and pushed both of the bullies to the ground beside Liu. It was around a 10 foot drop, and both boys went down chest-first. One of the boys broke his arm, and the other one had a nasty fractured wrist. To make matters worse, Jeff then took a sharp woodchip from the ground and pinned one of the boys to the earth with his knees. He used it to cut into the face of the boy, ignoring all of his pained screeches that only a frightened elementary schooler could emit.

Jeff was suspended for 2 weeks, and both injured boys were hospitalized. Desperate to protect their precious public image, the Woods parents paid for both of the children’s hospital bills to avoid a lawsuit. When they spoke with the Elementary school counselor, he pointed out lots of previous issues Jeff had with other children. He then suggested that they seek professional help, because their son may have anger issues. This idea was shut down immediately, and the counselor was given Mike Woods’ classic No-Son-Of-Mine speech. Jeff’s parents hated the idea of any of their children being different.

“Elmerville, established 1849.” Liu read the town sign, taking his headphones off.

“Are we almost there?” Jeff asked, fiddling with the arm cuffs of his light blue crew neck, “I’m hungry.”

“You’ve been hungry for the last hour, Jeff.” His father sighed, and moved his hands to the 10 and 2 position on the steering wheel, “Like I said, we’ll get there when we get there, and when we do, you guys can order pizza, or something.”

“Pizza? Really?” Jeff’s mom whispered through gritted teeth.

“Oh come on, it’s just to tie them over until dinnertime.”

“It’s not proper. What will the neighbors think?”

“Of us ordering pizza?” Jeff raised an eyebrow at his silver-spooned stepmother..

“Jeff.” His father growled, glaring at him through the rearview mirror again. Jeff, for once in his life, wasn’t in the mood to argue. He instead looked back over at Liu. He was now drawing, headphones back over his ears. Jeff glanced down at his sketchbook to see a person in a paisley patterned suit, with a description written in blue ink beside them. Jeff figured it must be one of Liu’s characters that he had created.

“That looks awesome.”

“Thank you.” Liu gave an appreciative nod at his brother, his biggest art critic, and fan. Just then, their father turned into a subdivision, and started down a row of large houses.

“Boys, welcome to your new neighborhood.” Their father stated, pleased with the neat array of houses ahead of them.

“It's very…minimalist.” Liu was disappointed at how much character the subdivision lacked, a new trend that he often complained about to his brother. He scratched his neck, and stuffed his sketchbook into his tote bag, saving his current drawing for later.

“Yeah…whatever that means.” Liu’s mother added under her breath.

“It’s perfect, just what the Woods family needs.” Jeff’s father gave a smug smile. The car slowed down, and turned into a paved driveway. Jeff and Liu stared at the house in front of them. The outside was white brick, with a black roof and shutters. The lawn was neatly manicured, completed with bushes that had snow piled on top of them.

The four car doors popped closed in unison, and the family stepped out to examine their new house. The moving van pulled up to the curb behind them, stopping with a high pitched squeal and a hiss.

“Welcome home, everyone.” Mike smiled proudly, fists balled on his wide hips. He walked up to the front door and began to unlock it with the key that had been provided.

“This isn’t home.” Jeff muttered to himself under his breath next to Liu, as the two boys went to grab their boxes from the moving van.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once Jeff’s furniture had been unpacked, he laid out on his bare mattress. His sheets and blankets were still in the van, but he didn’t feel like getting them yet. As he was thinking about unpacking, he heard knuckles wrapping on his new door,

“Jeff? Can I come in?” Liu asked timidly. Jeff gave a grunt of approval, and Liu opened the door. He saw his half brother laid out on his mattress like an emo starfish, his room only half decorated.

“What's wrong?” Jeff asked, rolling over so Liu could sit beside him.

“Everything.” Liu answered.

“Yeah. This place is awful.” Jeff’s shadowed eyes narrowed, “It’s so – fake – if that even makes sense.”

“I bet the people are too.” Liu frowned, looking out of Jeff’s window onto the unfamiliar backyard.

“No kidding. Mom’s probably gonna start to bitch at us about everything we do so that we can, ‘Make a good first impression with the neighbors!’” Jeff scoffed, mocking his stepmother’s shrill voice. He then flopped back down onto his bed with a groan. Liu followed,

”Everything is so fake.” Liu sighed, staring up at Jeff’s new white ceiling, “What do you miss the most?”

“I miss hanging out with the team at that one gas station next to our school. A group of us would always go there and get slushies after practice. I miss Stanley too. Losing him was like losing an arm.” Jeff felt choked up describing his home town, and his hockey mentor whom he missed dearly. Stanley Waterbury introduced Jeff to his favorite sport, and trained him from his youth to his adolescence,

“I miss the art room. I miss my oil painting that I never got to finish. I miss Noah and Jacquelyn.” Liu added, kicking his feet that hung over the edge of Jeff’s bed.

“I miss Milwaukee.” Jeff whined, face in his palms. He was ready for his father to be standing behind the door, waiting to strike him for mentioning his beloved hometown. The name of the city they once lived in had become taboo– something that couldn’t be so much as uttered. It hurt Jeff a great deal that a place he once cherished was now nothing more than a hush-hush topic.

No sooner than Jeff had thought of him, he heard his father’s voice booming from downstairs,

“Boys! Come put the rest of these boxes away!” Jeff groaned at this, wanting to take a break from unpacking and reassembling his possessions.

”Coming!” Liu yelled back, “C’mon, if we do it fast we can eat pizza.” He offered Jeff a hand to pull him up.

“Good. I’m starving.” The pair exited Jeff’s new room, and began to descend the stairs together. Their father was putting cushions on the expensive beige couch that they had just purchased. Nicole Woods set up a shabby chic sign over the mantle that read, ‘Home is where the Heart is’ in Rae Dunn font. Jeff found this incredibly ironic, as he felt his heart was back in Milwaukee.

Liu opened the front door, and Jeff followed him outside. They had to avoid the two moving guys who worked together to carry a coffee table into their house. Jeff held the door wide open for them, for which he received an appreciative nod. Liu stood on the steps of the house, waiting for Jeff to follow him outside. They spent the next hour or so bringing their items into the house, unpacking them, reassembling furniture, and dusting. Lots of dusting.

When everything was said and done, the Woods family gathered at a cards table on foldable chairs. They ate their pizza for dinner, much to Nicole Wood’s protest. It was quiet, the only sounds being chewing, and Mike Woods obnoxiously slurping his lukewarm beer.

“So, did you boys get everything unpacked?” Jeff’s stepmom broke the silence, forking at her pizza instead of eating it with her hands like a normal person.

“Mhm.” Liu answered with a mouth full of pizza. Jeff nodded silently, which angered his father for some reason.

“Jeffery?” He looked at his eldest son,

“Yeah.” He answered, without breaking eye contact with his food. However, his father didn’t find his answer sufficient,

“What is your problem, young man? Why can’t you show a little bit of gratitude? Why can’t you sit with your family and have a good time?” Jeff’s head tilted upwards to meet his father’s glare. His eyes were ice, even lighter than his fathers. They were shaded by his messy, dark bangs.

“My family?” His eyes narrowed, “Liu is my brother, but that homewrecker isn’t my mom.” Jeff’s stepmom clutched her hideous, chunky necklace, and turned to her husband to see what he would do. Liu sat silent, staring down at his half-eaten pizza, waiting for the pot to boil over. His father slammed his fist on the table, causing Liu to jolt. He stood up in an attempt to strike Jeff, but Jeff ducked backwards with ease. He pushed his chair out aggressively, leaving his stepmother and brother behind. His father would have none of this. He followed Jeff through the arched doorway and into the dark living room.

Jeff reached the banister of the stairs, but not before his father had caught up to him. He yanked him off the first step by the back of the shirt, and pulled him down to his level. Jeff landed on his ankle and winced with pain. Now he was fuming.

“YOU LISTEN TO ME NOW, BOY!” Jeff was 4 inches taller than his father, so he looked down on him. Jeff loved this. It gave him a sense of control. His father barked in his face, embarrassed that his son had evaded his hand so easily just moments before, “IF YOU THINK FOR A MOMENT THAT YOUR MOTHER AND I ARE GOING TO TOLERATE ANYMORE OF YOUR…DISRESPECT, YOU ARE SORELY MISTAKEN!” Jeff felt glee coursing through his veins at the sight of his father; he knew that Jeff was getting too old to push around. Jeff could see it on his pudgy face. He was terrified.

Jeff narrowed his eyes at his father, challenging him. He wanted to hit him. To hurt him. But he wouldn’t hit first. Jeff’s father accepted his son’s challenge, and swung at him with a weak right hook. Jeff ducked, but not quite in time. He got the top of his head knocked pretty good, inciting a new feeling inside of him.

Jeff felt something unfamiliar triggered in his brain. He was reminded of the countless years he had dedicated to his passion: Hockey. Jeff was one of the best centers in the state of Wisconsin. He had always loved to fight, and had never taken a knee in his entire career, something he constantly bragged about. However, there was something sinister to this fact. Whenever he fought on the ice, he always felt some kind of excitement at hurting other people. He wasn’t sure why, it had just always been like that. It was just who he was.

However, what he was feeling now was different, something he hadn’t ever felt before. All of the sudden, there was a strange ringing in his ears. He looked into his father’s beady blue eyes. He felt irked at the sight of him. Pure, unbridled hatred. Rough as sandpaper, and hot as flames. This, mixed with the aforementioned pleasure blended into something entirely new: Bloodlust.

Suddenly, Jeff lunged at his father, grabbing his thick neck with much force. Jeff’s father stumbled back, and landed against the wooden front door. A family photo fell to the floor with a “Crash!”. Jeff’s father tried to pry his son’s hands off of him, but it was to no avail. Jeff had an insane look to him, something evil swirling within his frozen irises. Just as Jeff was about to really get violent, he heard his stepmother’s shrill voice to the right of him.

“STOP IT, YOU TWO, STOP IT!!!” She cried, pulling them off of eachother, “WHAT’RE YOU DOING?!” It was like a haze had been waved out of Jeff’s face. The ringing was gone, the rage was gone, and the pleasure was gone. Jeff’s father moved away from his son, coughing and gasping for air. He did his best to hide the terror he felt. It wasn’t working.

”Jeff, go to your room. Now.” His stepmother held her husband’s arm. Jeff stood for a moment, unsure of what he was actually going to do. He looked to the arched doorway that led into the kitchen, and saw Liu’s silhouette beneath it. All eyes were on Jeff.

”NOW!” His father screamed. Jeff gave one last glare at his father, before growling with frustration. He stormed up the wooden stairs to his bedroom, and violently slammed the door behind him. He sat on his bed, neatly made with his black bed sheets and his comforter. He looked at his shaking hands, feeling his surging adrenaline begin to fade.

“What…what was that?” He asked himself, startled by how fast he had resorted to strangulation. He turned his head upwards and began to look around his room, “A lamp…a poster…highlighters in a cup…my desk…and my water bottle.” He said all of this to himself whilst taking deep breaths, just as his therapist had instructed him. He felt sick to his stomach.

He laid back on his bed, and stared up at the ceiling, just as he had done with Liu a few hours earlier. He turned over with a sigh, and hugged a pillow close to his body. He watched how the moonlight shone through his blinds onto his bedroom floor in horizontal lines. Soon, he drifted off, anger lingering deep within him.

The Hallway

Jeff’s family moved into their new house during the school district’s winter break. The break came to an end in early January, and Jeff and Liu began to attend their new High School, Elmerville Catholic United, on a Monday. This was an adjustment for the both of them. They had previously attended a public school in the North of Milwaukee. Despite it being underfunded, and the building not being the newest, Jeff and Liu loved it.

Jeff was actually fairly popular. He had friends from all walks of life. He spent most of his time with his hockey team, and he even had a few girls that he had been talking to. Jeff’s academic efforts were never grand, but he had received countless scholarships from colleges for hockey.

Liu, on the other hand, had exceptional grades. He was a sophomore with a steady 4.0. He took lots of AP classes, and did well on his ACTs when he took them. He spent most of his time in the art room. Liu had a small group of friends that shared similar interests, and similar music taste. Being more introverted, he preferred this to a larger friend group like Jeff’s.

Their parents had constantly begged him to switch to the nicer private school in town, and almost forced the boys out a few times. Jeff always bent over backwards for both him and his brother to make sure they weren’t ripped away from their beloved routine.

This new school was like hitting the reset button. The campus had a big library, a huge gym, the newest technology, and had been built very recently. Jeff and Liu would take the asbestos ridden basement and mediocre food at their old school anyday if it meant they could be with their friends again.

“Room 114.” Liu stared down at his schedule card as the pair walked out of the front office, “What about you?”

“Room 212. Damn! I’ve got biology first!” Jeff groaned, science being his least favorite subject.

“That sucks, I’ve got creative writing.” Liu smiled at the paper in his hands,

“How’d you get mom and dad to sign off on that?” Jeff asked, knowing how much his parents despised Liu’s interest in the arts.

“I…uh- didn’t.” Liu whispered sheepishly.

“You got away with that?” Jeff grinned, impressed with his younger brother.

“I guess.” Liu responded absent mindedly.

Jeff didn’t pay attention to any of the lectures. He instead spent his time counting down the minutes until school ended. He felt isolated. He felt like a Freshman again as he aimlessly wandered the halls with no one to talk to. There was a ban on phones and IPods in the building, so Jeff wasn’t able to communicate with his brother. What Jeff hated the most was the school uniforms. Stuffy crewnecks and ugly khakis were all the eye could see, leaving no room for any sort of individuality. Jeff felt like he was being strangled to death by the arbitrary rules.

At last, the final bell rang out. After the afternoon prayer had been concluded, Jeff collected his homework on the way out of his 8th period class. Just as he was about to walk through the doorway behind his teacher, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around, and was met with another boy around his age. He was just a little bit shorter than Jeff, with a sleeper build. He had fox colored hair and eyes like cobalt. His face was vaguely freckled and he had a scar on his chin.

“You’re the new kid?” He questioned Jeff, leaving no room for pleasantries.

“Yeah...” Jeff answered hesitantly, disliking the feeling that he was getting from this kid.

“And you play hockey?”

“Yeah...”

“Did you play for Stormbreaker Elite?” The boy asked, his head tilting slightly. Jeff was surprised

“How do you-“

“I guess you’ll be playing here then? I’m the team captain.”

“Yeah. I signed up for the team way before I got here.” Jeff answered coldly.

The boy nodded, a slight smile tugging on the corners of his mouth. Just then, two other boys appeared from the dimly lit classroom behind him. One of them was a skinhead that had a chip in one of his canines. He was lanky, all knees and elbows. The other boy was the opposite. He was pudgy and slow. Jeff could hear him breathing out of his mouth, which grossed him out. He would occasionally toss his greasy brown hair with a flick of his head.

“Did you actually commit to Wisconsin?” This kid was starting to get on Jeff’s nerves with all of his questioning.

“Sorry, who are you?” Jeff shifted his weight onto his other foot.

“This is Troy,” Randy tilted his head towards the fat kid, “and Keith. I’m Randy. My dad is Mr. H.”

“Who?” Jeff raised an eyebrow and folded his arms.

“Mr. H? The AD? Are you slow?” Randy sneered. His friends chuckled at this comment.

Jeff began to piece the situation together: This was an attempt at intimidation. Jeff tried not to let his short temper control him, and instead attempted to salvage the conversation,

“So…do you all play hockey?” The question was both a peace-offering, and a way to gauge how often he would have to encounter these douchebags.

“Yeah?” The skinny kid scoffed, eyeing Jeff up and down. Jeff took a deep breath, telling himself that he wouldn’t be controlled by his anger.

“Well, I just moved here. I live over in Clairmont.” Jeff explained, pretending to be blind to their malice.

“I don’t remember asking you.” Randy sneered, sizing Jeff up with his cerulean eyes. Jeff felt like throwing his fist at Randy’s mouth as hard as he could, but he refrained.

“What’s your problem, dude?” Jeff challenged, “I don’t even know you.”

“The problem is that you think you can just waltz in here and join the team halfway through the season without even trying out.” The skinny kid narrowed his eyes at Jeff, and the fat kid glared even harder.

“After all, I’m the best center in our district, so don’t think you’ll be getting any playing time.” Randy spoke with a pompous tone.

“Does your skill get you your minutes, or your Dad’s job?” Jeff watched Randy’s smirk disappear. It was clear that he had never been stood up to before.

“Look at my stats and ask me that again.” Randy shot back, his feet moving to a fighting position. Jeff knew that he could absolutely wreck Randy if he wanted to. The problem was his goons. Randy was protected, which only frustrated Jeff further.

“How about you look at my stats? You seem to know everything about me already, right? Do you like digging through your Dad’s shit when he’s not in his office?” Jeff also moved his feet to get a better stance. All of the sudden, a voice broke the tension between the boys,

“Mr. Woods?” When Jeff turned around, he saw a man he didn’t recognize. He had the same fox-colored hair as Randy, but it was grayed from age. His eyes shone a lighter blue. His face was weathered, but he wore a pleased expression. He held a clipboard, and had a whistle around the neck of his red polo shirt. The same haze of bloodlust that had been over Jeff’s consciousness during the fight with his father evaporated. Jeff hadn’t even realized it was there to begin with.

“You’re definitely the older one.” The man whispered to himself, biting on the end of his pen. He brought the ink down to the paper and scribbled some notes down. Jeff turned slowly to side-eye Randy and his goons. They all glared at him, but none spoke a word. It amused Jeff how quickly the boys had lost their macho attitudes once the administrator had arrived.

“Hello?” Jeff’s eyes darted between Randy’s crew and the adult, who he assumed was Randy’s father. The man looked up, and smiled at Jeff. He tucked his clipboard under his arm, offering Jeff a hand to shake.

“I’m Peter. Peter Hayden, but you can call me Mr. H. I’m the athletic director here at ECU.” Jeff shook his hand firmly, and then shoved his hands into his pants pockets. For some reason, he felt that Mr. H’s tone was laced with insincerity. Jeff had only known Randy for a little bit, but he was certain that this was his father.

”I’m Jeff. We spoke over Email last month about me transferring here.” This comment made Mr. H chuckle a bit.

”I remember. So, you’re going to Wisconsin?” Jeff nodded, his eyes widening a bit, “That’s great! It’s been a while since we’ve had a D1 recruit on our hands.” Mr. H turned his attention to the group of boys,

“You boys can go home. Practice is cancelled today because of the weather.” Randy gave one last glare at Jeff, before leaving the classroom with his punk friends. Mr. H wrote a few more things down on his clipboard, before turning his attention back to Jeff,

“Well, you wanna come see the rink?” He offered Jeff another pretentious smile. Jeff nodded, and began to follow Mr. H out of the classroom.

The two walked together through corridors and hallways that Jeff recalled being lost in earlier that day. The layout of the school was finally starting to make sense in his mind. Eventually, they wandered through the gym where the girl’s basketball team was practicing free-throws in groups. Jeff hated the awkward silence, and decided to strike up a conversation with Mr. H,

“Is that your son?” Mr. nodded, followed by a sigh,

“Yep. Did he give you any trouble?”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle.” Jeff responded coldly as Mr. H waved to the coaches across the gymnasium. The Athletic Director sighed again, and shook his head.

“My son, Randy, is…territorial…if that makes sense. When he feels his control is threatened, he tends to lash out at others. I’m starting to regret talking about you so much with my wife. I’m sure when he heard “Wisconsin University,” He took that as a threat to his power.” Mr. H was being way too honest with Jeff, another red flag.

The administrator pushed open a double door at the end of the gym that opened into a dim, concrete hallway. At the end of it, Jeff saw the ice rink. The pair walked up to the boards, and looked out onto the ice.

The rink was very nice, and in good shape, a testament to the Catholic school’s wealth. There were sponsorship banners all across the ceiling, including, of course, Jeff’s father’s law office. Hanging directly over the court was the American flag, the Vatican Flag, and the Wisconsin state flag. There was a huge scoreboard on the wall at the other end of the rink, adjacent to the 6 state championship banners from past years.

“Wow…” Jeff couldn’t lie; he was impressed. At his old school, they rented a rink in town for practice and for games. He hadn’t been informed that this one would be attached to the school.

“Yep. It's a real pain to keep it cool in the summertime.” Mr. H sighed. He made a sudden left turn and continued walking. Jeff had to jog a little to keep up with his long strides. They went under the concrete bleachers and to a red door that read, “Boys Locker Room.” In navy blue letters. Mr. H used one of the various keys on his keychain to unlock the door, and Jeff followed him inside.

Once they entered, Mr. H flicked the lights on. The locker room was very spacious, and very spirited. Both walls were lined with alternating red and blue lockers, and, “HARD WORK” was painted on the wall above them. All of the lockers were labeled with the players' names. Mr. H pointed at a blue locker towards the middle of the left wall,

“This one’s yours, kiddo.” When Jeff got closer to it, he could see his name engraved on a metal tag. Mr. H got his clipboard back out and scribbled on it for a moment, before handing Jeff a detention slip. Jeff was confused for a moment, before noticing it was blank. He turned it over and found a locker combination. He looked up at Mr. H, who laughed at him,

“Did I scare ya? Go on, open it!” Jeff messed with the combination lock before finally managing to open his locker. He was taken aback at the sight in front of him. A white helmet, two brand new home and away uniforms, a reversible practice jersey, and a backpack were situated neatly inside, along with a bag of new stick wax, grip tape, a few stickers, and a keychain ice skate sharpener. Jeff felt as though he had just opened a present under his Christmas tree. Jeff turned back to Mr H, who had that phony smile again.

“As long as I get some playing time.” Jeff thought, returning a fake smile to Mr. H.

“I assume you have a stick, skates, padding and all that stuff, right?” Jeff nodded, and turned to his locker full of gifts, then back to Mr. H,

“Thank you so much!” Jeff cheesed, milking his situation dry.

“No problem. If you need anything at all, come visit me in my office, and I’ll be happy to assist you. Welcome to ECU.” With that, Jeff grabbed the small gifts and put them into his new backpack. He left his uniforms so that they would be ready come game time.

Jeff said his final goodbye to Mr. H at the front office, and left through the front doors of the school. He found Liu waiting beside his car, clutching his body, and shivering. He was shaking like a leaf from Wisconsin’s bitter cold.

“There you are! I called you like 7 times!” Liu complained, his bright green eyes standing out against his red face. Jeff shrugged, and unlocked his car,

“My phone died. Sorry, man.” Jeff opened the door behind the driver’s seat and threw his belongings on the floor of the vehicle. He offered to take Liu’s, who politely declined.

“It’s fine.” Liu sighed, climbing into the passenger seat beside his brother. Jeff stuck his key in the ignition of his white Santa Fe, and warm air began to flow from the vents. Liu noticed Jeff’s new red and blue backpack in the back seat. Jeff struggled to plug the car charger into his phone, “What’s all that?” He asked, as Jeff put the car in reverse and backed out of his parking spot.

“The athletic director found me in my last class and took me to the rink. I got a bunch of goodies and stuff too. He’s totally fake just like everyone else here, but hey, at least I know I’m getting some playing time.” Jeff smirked, turning onto the main road and out of the high school.

“Dang.” Liu criss-crossed his legs up on the seat, “How was school?” Jeff noticed the change in Liu’s tone. He almost sounded sad.

“Dumb.” Jeff sighed, “I almost got into a fight at the end of the day.”

“Jeff, what?! It's your first day!” Liu buried his face in his hands and shook his head, “What is wrong with you?!”

“Don’t worry, it wasn’t serious.”

”Jeff, any fight you almost get into on your first day is serious.” Liu panicked, wondering how his older brother could be so calm.

“Relax. The athletic director intervened, and I got away unscathed.” Jeff fondly recalled how lucky he had been.

”How?”

“Well, I was about to leave class, and this kid named Randy came up to me and started telling me to bitch and moan about me joining the team. He plays hockey too, and he’s the team captain, or something. It was pretty stupid.” Jeff watched as a bad driver changed lanes ahead of him without signaling.

“But you didn’t fight him?” Liu narrowed his eyes, skeptical of his half-brother.

“I didn’t. Believe me, I could have broken his twig ass in half. He’s okay because I let him be.” His turn signal clicked quietly as he spoke. Jeff neglected to tell Liu that Randy was the Athletic Directors son, because he didn’t want him to worry.

“Was he blond?” Liu asked, turning away from his brother towards the window.

“No, why?” Liu went quiet, “Liu?” Jeff felt the atmosphere change as he made a left turn into their subdivision.

“It’s nothing, don’t worry.” Liu looked out of his window, trying to ignore Jeff’s questioning.

“It’s not nothing. Don’t lie to me, what happened?” Jeff gripped his steering wheel tighter, trying his best to push his feelings down.

“You know how it is…moving to new schools…” Liu paused again, trying not to set his older brother off. Jeff felt that intoxicating haze return. It was even stronger than before. anger, it was something stronger. Something scary. Even for Jeff.

“I’ll kill him…” Jeff whispered. This phrase fell out of his mouth. He didn’t even know where it had come from.

“Jeff, it wasn’t that bad. I promise.” Liu sighed, setting his hand on his brother’s shoulder as he put the car in park on the street outside of their house, “Really, it's not a big deal.”

”Did he hurt you?” Jeff asked. His voice wasn’t normal. It was different. Only slightly, but it was different.

“No. I’m fine.” Liu answered honestly. Jeff paused, his eyes fixed forward on the street in front of him. That ringing had come back, like an angel singing in his blood. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“Okay.” Jeff muttered, and switched the keys off. Before Liu could exit the car, he felt his brother’s firm grip on his shoulder. He looked back to see Jeff with a strange look, one he had never seen before, “Promise that you’ll tell me if something happens. Okay, Liu?” Liu gave a slight smile, and pulled his older brother in for a tight hug.

“I promise. I love you.” He patted his brother on the back firmly.

“I love you too.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That night, Jeff had a strange dream. He found himself walking through a forest against his will. He wasn’t sure where he was going, or how he got there in the first place. He just kept walking forward, unable to stop. He felt tired, as though he had been walking for hours. The night was chilly, but not unbearable. The sky above him twinkled beautifully, an unmatched dark blue spotted with glowing stars. The smell of wet earth and pine permeated the air. The wind would sometimes blow and sting his face, yet he persisted in his walking.

He reached a clearing in the forest, and he finally stopped walking. He fell to his knees, too exhausted to feel the scrapes and cuts all over his body from the tree branches he fell into. All of the sudden, there was a faint ringing in his ears. Nothing significant, but still noticeable. He looked around. The space was illuminated by moonlight that shone through the opening in the tree canopy.

All of the sudden, Jeff felt a sharp pain in the front of his head. He winced, and touched his face. When he opened his eyes, his hands were stained with blood. He gasped, and looked up. Standing there in the clearing was a man. Jeff was perplexed, as no one had been there moments earlier. That's what Jeff thought, but the more that he looked, the more inhuman the figure seemed.

It was only shorter than the trees around it. It stood as still as a statue. Its arms were long, reaching all the way down to his knees. Its fingers were long too. Boney, and pale. Strangely, it wore a suit completed with a black tie. An odd outfit choice for the middle of the woods. Jeff’s eyes widened in horror when his eyes fell on the top half of the creature. The creature lacked a face entirely. Its features were replaced with smooth white skin, indents where they should have been.

Jeff gained control of his body once more, and began to scramble backwards. The creature didn’t move its body, but it did move its location. It was like every time Jeff blinked, the figure would be in a new location even closer to him. The ringing in his ears grew louder. Before Jeff could get away, inky tentacles reached out from the creature’s back, and grabbed his ankle. Jeff was pulled back, and his body was raked across the forest floor. His chin scraped against rocks and roots, and his hands were red from trying to to grab hold of the forest floor.

Jeff’s body was lifted off of the ground by his ankle, and pulled up into the air. He was stopped abruptly. Jeff was too frightened to open his eyes. When he did, he was face to face with the creature. Jeff screamed, but he was too frozen to do anything. Just then, the creature spoke to him,

“Jeffery…” It breathed, barely audible. Its voice sounded like the wind through the trees. Blood poured down Jeff’s face from out of his nose and into one of his eyes. The ringing grew even louder by the second. He couldn’t see, but he couldn’t do anything about it. His hands were limp, and he couldn’t move them no matter how hard he tried. He watched helplessly through the one eye he had left as two more pitch black tendrils emerged from behind the monster.

He felt one of the tendrils slip into his mouth, and then the other. They tugged harshly on the corners of his mouth, growing stronger with every second that passed. Then, they started ripping. Jeff felt an excruciating burn in his cheeks as the monster’s tentacles tore through his flesh. He tried to scream, but no sound came out. He couldn’t even blink. He felt more crimson blood spurting out and trickling down his face. Now he was blind in both eyes. All Jeff could do was hang limply by one of his legs and bleed while the monster laughed at his suffering.

Jeff woke with a start in his bed, his chest heaving and his eyes wide. He wiped the sweat dripping from his brow with his hoodie sleeve. He loosened his grip on the bedsheets, and began to come back to his senses. He touched his face with his fingertips, and found that his cheeks were perfectly intact. He gave a deep inhale, and dropped his shoulders as he exhaled.

“Man…What was that?” He thought, recalling the nightmare he had just had. Never before had he experienced a dream so vivid in his life. He tossed his covers off and sat on the edge of his bed. He pulled some fuzzy socks over his feet. The glow from the moon outside illuminated the end of his bed, and his floor in stripes from the blinds. He stepped quietly to his bedroom door, and turned the knob. He snuck down the hallway to the bathroom, and shut the door before flipping the light.

He stared at himself in the bathroom mirror. He was relieved to find no blood on any part of his face. His fluffy, black hair was a bit tousled from his active sleep. He had forgotten to wash his eyeliner off the previous night, and black circles wrapped around his eyes like a racoon. Upon inspecting his complexion, he found an odd red tint to his skin. The welts started at the corners of his mouth and ended right beside his sideburns, almost in the shape of a smile. The two lines were directly where the tendrils had cut into him in his nightmare. Jeff touched his face. The welts felt feverishly hot, but the rest of the skin on his face was clammy and cold. He took a deep breath and bit his lip, running his fingers through his hair.

“I was probably…scratching or pulling on my face or something while I was sleeping. That’s why it looks like that…That's why I had that dream.” He gripped the roots of his hair, trying his best to self-soothe. The more he woke up, the more he felt embarrassed at the thought of an external force causing him harm. He turned the sink faucet on, and splashed cold water onto his face. When his gaze fell back on his reflection, the marks went away, and he had black lines running down his face from his ruined eyeliner. He took a makeup wipe out of the pack in the vanity drawer, cleaned his eyes, and tied his hair up into a low bun. He then snuck back to his room and returned to peaceful sleep for the rest of the night.

WOW YOU MADE IT THIS FAR YOU TROOPER!! GO TO PART TWO!!!

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