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tarabyte3 · 9 months ago

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The Fear Has Gripped Me, but Here I Go

(13.4k)

Fandom: The Accused (BBC)

Pairing: Liam Black/F!Reader

Summary: It was so easy to develop a crush on Liam Black. He's sweet, handsome, funny, and all of your conversations feel effortless. How could you not? Maybe it was too easy because you're starting to fall a little deeper and you can't stop calling him whenever you need a taxi.

Warnings: Explicit rating, sex, car sex, semi public sex, unprotected sex, adultery, cheating, lying, mutual pinning, romance, angst

A/N: This is a fic about the character Liam Black played by Andy Serkis in the BBC anthology show The Accused. In the show, he breaks into a woman's house, steals from her, stalks her, uses that information to get her to like him, interferes with her life, etc. None of that is shown or stated in this fic, but if you’ve watched the show, you can infer a LOT about their interactions. In the show, he also cheats on his wife and lies to both her and the other woman. That IS in this fic. Unfortunately, Liam Black is one of my poor little meow meows, so this story is also intended to be romantic. I do not condone cheating (obviously). This is fiction. It's just that Liam is a sympathetic creep, but also I want to kiss him. (Andy Serkis has rotted my brain.) | Work title is from “Breezeblocks” by alt-J.

Playlist | AO3

It's distressingly easy to get sucked into the gravity of Liam Black. The way he looks at you—stolen glances in the rearview mirror when he thinks you won't notice—makes you feel special. Beautiful.

Something worth marveling at.

That should be a red flag, but you can't remember the last time someone looked at you like that. It's more than being appreciated for your appearance or checked out by a stranger. It's as if your presence is a bright spot in his day. In the same way he might stop to appreciate the view of a valley brimming with flowers or a sunrise after a particularly long night. His expression, one of awe.

Every bit of conversation between the two of you feels so natural, too. Effortless. Like meeting up with an old friend only to pick up right where you left off years ago. And he makes you laugh in a way you haven't in so long, as if he knows the exact thing to say to get you to smile. Even when you've had a rotten day.

Especially when you've had a rotten day.

So you keep calling him when you need a ride.

After all, Liam gave you his number for that very reason, you tell yourself. It's much easier than arranging a taxi because you deal with him directly. You know it will be him showing up at your door, and he already knows where you live and is familiar with the drive. Why wouldn't you call him?

At least that's how it started. Weeks ago.

Eventually any small excuse became a reason to phone him instead of driving yourself. “Parking will be a nightmare.” “I'd rather not fight with traffic.” “What if I want to have a drink during dinner with my friends?” “I swear my car made a strange noise this morning. I shouldn't drive it until I can get it looked at, and the shop is booked out a week.”

Deep down you know it's because you want that connection. You want his attention on you. You want to catch those blue eyes in the mirror. To see the profile of his nose and warm smile from the backseat. The greying scruff of his beard. The casual flex of his arms on the steering wheel—far more muscular than you would have expected from a driver and deceptively so under his polos because the way the fabric stretches around his biceps is…enticing.

It's just a crush, you tell yourself. Nothing more than a passing fancy. It's nice to have something to indulge in. It's perfectly harmless.

But then one night, you're in Liam’s taxi because you're headed to meet some friends to see a play—your favorite play—only to discover it's his favorite play, too.

So the two of you talk enthusiastically about it the entire drive there, quoting lines and debating character motivations and themes. Once you arrive at the theater, you find that you're very disappointed to be getting out of the car. You were enjoying yourself so much that it went by too fast.

“If you need a ride home afterwards, just let me know, love.” He turns in his seat to smile at you, and the corners of his eyes crinkle in a way that's endearing. Earnest.

“It'll be awfully late.” You can't help but smile back, even as you wave off his suggestion. “I can just flag a taxi.”

“I'll already be out. It's no trouble, really,” he insists while holding up a placating hand. Then his expression softens. “A lovely woman like you shouldn't be waiting that late by yourself anyway. It's dangerous.”

You want to protest further. To say your friends will be there, too, and you'll hardly be alone. That you don't want to be a bother. But, god, he called you lovely and he looks so hopeful. Those blue eyes bore into yours and pierce your defenses. The words die on your lips.

You relent.

You'll text him from the lobby after the show, you agree. He'll come get you then.

You've never texted him before. Somehow that feels more intimate than calling him and hearing the rough timbre of his voice.

The play is wonderful.

Your favorite character was perfectly cast, and his delivery of a line makes you think of Liam—the way he quoted it from the driver's seat a mere hour before, the parody of a serious expression on his face that made you laugh. He smiled at you then, all unmasked adoration, and your heart flutters at the memory.

When it's over, you text him before you've even left your seat.

As you resist the urge to impatiently push your way through the throng of people heading for the lobby, you tell your friends you couldn't possibly go out for drinks afterwards. You're tired and you have an early morning, but you'll take that rain check! Next time, you promise. You'll even buy a round! And that seems to placate them enough that they're on their way without you.

Before they can see you getting into his cab. Before they can look too closely and see what you're trying so desperately to deny to yourself: That you're more excited to see him than you are at the thought of spending time with them.

That you want this thing you shouldn't want.

He must have been close because he's already idling in wait as you exit the building. Your expression brightens at the sight of him waving at you from the driver's window, his face bathed in the marquee lights. The bulbs reflect in his eyes, tiny pin pricks like stars, and it sets your heart racing.

Christ, he's handsome.

You briefly wonder if he stayed in the area just for you. You can't deny you like the thought, even as you try to bury it down. That's something you can dig back up and indulge in later. When you're alone.

“How was the play, love?” He asks back at you once you've settled in and closed the door. The sounds outside become muted, trapping an artificial intimacy in with you.

“Fantastic! Oh, you would have loved it,” you sigh as you buckle yourself in. “You really should get tickets while it's still going.”

“Maybe I should.” He glances one last time out the window at the people still spilling from the front doors before slowly pulling away from the curb. “I might fit in better with the matinee crowd, though.”

Your head snaps up towards him. “What does that mean?”

“Well, I'm just a lowly taxi driver. Not really night at the theater material.”

“Nonsense.” You furrow your brows at him, as though you're offended on his behalf. “You aren't just anything, and there's nothing lowly about being a taxi driver. Plus, there are no requirements for going to see a play. Art is for everyone.”

He smiles to himself, almost amused by your reaction. “It'd still be sad, yeah? A man going to the theater all by himself.”

“Not at all!” You try to ignore the thrill in your chest at the implication that he doesn't have a partner. It's something you've suspected based on past conversations, but refused to ask outright. That would have been too much like showing real interest. “I've gone by myself loads of times.”

“Really?” There's a note of disbelief in his voice, and he glances up at you in the mirror. “A beautiful woman like you, without a date?”

A heat creeps over your cheeks. You bite at your bottom lip and glance out the window to hide it. You're suddenly glad for the late hour so he can't see the bashfulness in your reflection.

“Now you sound like my mother,” you tease, trying to deflect the comment.

His laughter rings out through the car. “Oh god, I take it back!”

“Besides, it's not always easy to get a date last minute, romantic or platonic. Is it?” You raise your eyebrows at him in challenge. “Why don't you take one?”

This is the closest you've come to prying because, now that he's alluded to the fact that he's available, you can't help yourself. You have to know. Whether that's to satisfy some curiosity or because a part of you has a vested interest in his answer, you're not sure.

“If you can't get one last minute, then what hope does a washed up old driver like myself have?”

And now you know. Which actually makes all of this feel so much worse because, under the serene veil of passing street lights and quiet roads, the lines are beginning to blur.

You also want to open your mouth and say something stupid like, “Then they're idiots,” or “You’re far from washed up,” and maybe even “I’d go with you.” But you know the second that you do, it pushes this beyond the bounds of rides and cautious flirting.

You don't even know if Liam would want that. What if he's only being nice? You don't know how he talks to his other passengers. Maybe he finds the flirting fun and harmless, too, and he's not actually interested in anything more. Maybe he enjoys being your friend.

Or maybe you’re only projecting what you want to see because you're lonely and he’s easy to talk to—the first man to really pay attention to you in longer than you’d care to admit. You might just end up embarrassing yourself.

Instead, you scoff and say, “Well, it doesn't matter anyway because it's perfectly acceptable to go alone and have a lovely time.”

Regret pools in your stomach. You can't help but feel you missed an opportunity. It's too late now, though. As he chuckles warmly from the front seat and shifts his attention to the road, you know the moment has passed. Bringing it up again, saying those words out loud, will give you away.

There's a silence after that, which stretches on for several minutes. A few weeks ago it might have been comfortable, but now you can't stand it. You only get a few of these moments with him and you're nearly halfway home already. It might be a while before you see him again after this. You're wasting it!

“God, I wish I had walked the block to get a takeout after the show. I'm suddenly starving,” you blurt out, lacking anything else to say, but desperate for any chance at small talk to close the gap between you.

“Want me to stop off somewhere?” He glances up at you in the mirror.

“No!” You immediately protest, a little embarrassed. You had expected this to turn into a conversation about your favorite kinds of takeout or foods so you could learn more about him. You hadn't expected him to offer anything. “No, it's fine. It was just a terrible attempt at making conversation. I swear I'll live.”

“I can if you’d like.”

“It's already so late. Don't trouble yourself. Really!” You aren't even hungry.

When did this become so difficult? When did you go from enjoying his attention to craving it this much?

“I don't have another ride after this.” His voice lowers, barely audible now over the hum of the engine. “And I've already told you, love. For you it's never any trouble.”

Oh. The uncertainty gives way to a warmth in your chest. It settles deep into your ribs and wraps itself around your heart. How could you possibly say no now?

You also know the answer to your questions then: It became difficult when, somewhere along the way, this stopped being just a simple, harmless crush.

“Okay.” Then you hurry to add, “But only if you're sure!”

“Positive.” His profile shifts as he smiles at the road, pleased you’ve accepted his offer.

“There's Chinese on the way. Over by the old Tesco? The one that closed a few months ago?”

“I know it.”

“It's not the best, but it's open until eleven. I can order it now so you don't have to wait too long.” Then you get an idea. “Do you like noodles? Or maybe fried rice? My treat.” You hold up a finger at him when he opens his mouth to protest. “You’re nice enough to stop when you don't have to, it's the least I can do to say thank you.”

“Alright,” he sighs, his shoulders going slack with acceptance. There's something tender in his expression as his smile widens, which only makes your heart constrict further. “Yeah, I'd love some noodles.”

“Then noodles it is.” You place the order on your phone as a silence settles back over the car.

All that fuss and your attempt at conversation didn't even work.

At least you get to buy him dinner, technically speaking. But you're going to do everything you can not to dwell on that right now. Especially now that you’ve realized how far this has evolved.

A few minutes and a short detour later, and he's pulling alongside the curb once again.

“I'll be right back,” you promise before hurrying out into the night.

You feel oddly self conscious of every step as you cross the street because you can feel his eyes on you the entire way. Watching you.

He probably wants to make sure you don't get mugged or something, you tell yourself. He’s keeping an eye on you. That's all. There's no reason for your pulse to be this high.

And yet, if there's a bit more sway to your hips as you walk in the hopes it draws his gaze lower…that's just more fun, harmless flirting. Isn't it?

You're not sure anymore.

At this hour, so near to closing, the restaurant is empty. There's even someone taking down tables in the dining area. The sight of it makes you feel guilty as you give them a nod of greeting. Your disastrous attempt at small talk probably prevented the kitchen from being in the same half cleaned state as well. Just add it to the list of inconveniences, you think.

It only takes a few more minutes for your order to be finished, much to your relief. You’d hate to keep Liam waiting because it's already fourteen to eleven, and you don't want him to start regretting being nice. It also means you don't have time to stand there and start second guessing yourself either, which is the last thing you need right now.

When you exit the restaurant, you notice the air has shifted. It smells damp now, like it might rain. Even the night sky is quickly growing darker as the stars are swallowed by clouds, all the telltale signs of an encroaching late summer storm. So you jog back towards the cab, clutching the takeout bag and praying it holds off.

But as your fingers brush the door handle, you hesitate.

It's late and there's not another car or soul on the street. It's just the two of you, and you've gotten both of you food. It seems almost silly to sit in the backseat now, or to pretend there's much of a separation anymore. Even as friends.

That's what you tell yourself as you head to the passenger door instead.

Liam doesn't say anything. He just watches you climb into the front seat of his taxi. When you finally meet his eyes, you can see uncertainty on his face, but of what you're not sure.

“Is this okay?” You keep the door held open in doubt, giving yourself the option of escape. “I thought it would be easier...you know, with the food.”

“Yeah.” His voice is quiet, and the wary, low gravel of it matches his expression. He glances down at the steering wheel. “Yeah, it's fine.”

Far too late you wonder if you've made a mistake.

“I'm sorry,” you gasp as you move for the door. “I should have asked first. I can get in back.”

“Wait!” His hand shoots out as if he wants to grab your arm—to keep you there—but he stops just short of touching you, still keeping that distance. He lets it hover for a second, hesitant, before lowering it back to his seat, and you swear you see his fingers twitch. Your skin tingles at the near contact. “Stay. Please.”

You take a moment to study his face, to make sure it's actually what he wants. That he isn't just being polite now that you're already in, despite his own comfort.

The genuine plea you see there makes your heart ache.

“Okay,” you say softly.

You shut the door.

Then it's quiet once again except for the rustling of the bag as you settle it on your lap. Except now there's a tension in the air that's never been there before. It's as if you brought the storm into the cab with you and have just sealed it inside. Maybe you have made a mistake.

This had always been so easy.

When there was the clear separation of a car seat between you, you both knew where you stood. Liam up front, you in back. Driver and passenger. The physical distance kept things safe. Without that, you feel unsteady, too—unsure of how to act and unsure where this is going.

You think about that heavy scent of ozone and warm concrete on the breeze outside—about the possibility of rain—and suddenly you know what you want. You know why you got in front and what your heart has been telling you all night: You want to see your possibility. What this thing between you could be.

Despite your nerves, you want him. All you have to do is continue closing the distance.

You're pretty sure that you can't make things any more awkward than they already are, at the very least. Even if you somehow manage it, you doubt he’ll throw you out of his taxi. Why would he? He’s only ever been sweet to you. So the worst he can say is no, you think, as if that wouldn't break your heart.

“I don't know how you feel about food in your cab, but we could sit here and eat before it gets cold. Together. If you want.” You try to sound casual, but hope bleeds into your voice and betrays the truth of what you're really offering him: you. Something more.

You spent weeks being careful to never cross that line while telling yourself that's what you actually wanted. That you were fine simply having something to indulge in. But now that you've finally done it, you don't know why it took you so long or how you’ve been so blind. Because as you look at him, with his snug polo, trimmed hair and beard, his full lips, and his hooded blue eyes, you wouldn't take it back for anything.

Only…that uncertainty reappears on his face. An internal struggle which deepens the lines on his forehead, pinches his brow, and causes his mouth to thin into a frown. He knows agreeing to this would mean crossing that line with you and moving forward. Except where you have hope, he seems conflicted by the possibility.

You wonder if all the flirting and stolen glances felt harmless to him, too, because he never dreamed you’d want him back. And now that you do…

“You don't need to be getting home? It's late," he says helplessly. Half-heartedly. That's when you realize: he thinks he should tell you no, but he just can't bring himself to say it. So he's offering you an excuse instead, hoping that you’ll do it for him.

Of all the ways you saw this going, you never imagined this—that he would want you and still reject you.

You want so badly to ask why, to understand, but this hurts more than a simple no would, and the fear of what he might say stills your tongue. It could just be self-deprecation on his part, the ingrained belief that he's a washed up old driver…but what if the reason is you? Imagining the pity on his face as he tries to let you down gently turns your stomach.

Despite that, you find you can't say no either. Now that you've finally realized that you want this, how do you let it go? To be the one to end it before it's even begun. You don't have the strength.

You suppose that makes the both of you cowards.

“I've got nowhere to be tomorrow, but if you do, that's alright, Liam,” you offer instead. A lie the two of you can cling to. “I don't want to keep you any longer than I already have.”

He shakes his head. “That's not it.”

Oh.

“Either way, don't worry about it,” you quickly blurt out to stop him from saying anything more. “Forget I said—”

“No!” His voice breaks as he interrupts you, stunning you to silence. “No.”

He struggles for a moment to find the words while searching your face, as if he might find the answer there. As if you might make it easier for him somehow. He must find something because then he's staring at you with the determination of a man who's made a decision, consequences be damned, and you let out a shaky breath you didn't realize you’d been holding.

“There’s nowhere I’d rather be.”

Oh.

Your heart falters for a moment, lurching with violence against your ribcage, before it stutters with renewed hope.

There's a rumble of thunder outside—the sound of possibility shifting into inevitability.

“Me either,” you whisper.

“Then, yeah.” His face softens. And he’s back to looking at you in a way you’re used to, the way he secretly would in his rearview mirror, but something between you has shifted. There's a new intensity to his gaze that takes your breath away. “I’d love to.”

“I’m glad.” Feeling bold at that look in his eyes and desperate to ease some of the lingering tension, you add, “Besides, this is much better than eating reheated takeout alone in my apartment. The company is far better.”

You can tell it works when he relaxes further in his seat.

“Yeah?” A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth as he raises his eyebrows at you.

“Yeah.”

“And I suppose it does smell really good, yeah? Be a shame to waste it.”

“It really does.” You huff out a laugh as you dig into the bag, relieved to have something to do with your hands that isn't clenching them uselessly in your lap. “Plus, now you don't have to listen to my stomach growl for the rest of the drive.”

He laughs along with you, but it quickly turns into a teasing grin. “Well, I’m glad I could save you the embarrassment.”

“My hero,” you say playfully, which finally earns you a full, real smile. The kind that crinkles the corners of his eyes and makes your heart skip a beat. Before you can get distracted staring at him, you pull out the disposable utensils and hold them up between you. “Now, fork or chopsticks?"

He sheepishly takes the fork, and it's your turn to give him a teasing grin.

You fall back into easy conversation as you both tuck into your takeout containers. The tension between you is gone now, having dissipated under the familiar—though it'll be impossible to forget just how close he is or the way he lingers in your field of vision no matter where you look.

You’ve positioned yourself in your seat so you're half facing him, and you notice he's removed his seatbelt and done the same. There's an intimacy to the way both of your knees are turned in towards each other, unable to touch but still seeking one another out.

There it is again, you think. The gravity of him, pulling you in. You bend to him like light.

While you eat, it begins to rain. Or rather, it begins to downpour, the drops thumping and echoing off the metal body of the taxi. They coat the windows in streaks, leaving the world outside blurred—a hazy refraction of streetlights and muted color.

The combination of darkness and being shut inside the car already made it feel like there was a barrier separating the two of you from the outside, but now you feel even more cocooned from the rest of the world. In fact, you’re finding it hard to remember anything else exists beyond the interior of this cab. This moment.

Him.

Another silence settles over you as you eat and listen to the rain, but this one is comforting. As though just existing next to each other is enough. It's easy in a way that makes your heart sing.

He breaks it by clearing his throat.

“Seriously, how do you use those? I’ve never gotten the hang of it.” He gestures to your hand holding the chopsticks.

You pause mid bite, your food frozen in the air as you look up at him. “Do you want me to show you?”

“You can try, but I should warn you, I'm all thumbs when it comes to that,” he laughs and looks away, self-conscious.

You’ve seen that expression on his face a few times now. Glimpses past the easy smiles and the effortless conversations into how he sees himself. You wonder again if that was the reason he hesitated earlier. Suddenly you want to show him the man you see. The one that’s attentive when you speak and makes you feel seen. Who always cheers you up with his presence and went out of his way when you said you were hungry. The man who's never said no to you, even when you’ve called him at the last minute and were certain he was busy.

You wish you could find the way to say all of that out loud.

Instead, you raise an eyebrow and stick the uneaten bite back into the container. “That sounds like a challenge.”

“It's really not,” he says with a helpless laugh, but you're determined now.

You get a fresh set for him. Then you go about demonstrating the placement in your hand and the way you use your fingers to manipulate the utensils to pick up your food. He copies you, though his own movements are stiff and awkward. There's also a vulnerability to the way he keeps glancing up at you to see if he's doing it correctly and looking for approval.

“You’ve almost got it! It just takes practice,” you reassure him. He gives you a small smile in return, his blue eyes full of gratitude. When he tries again, he’s more relaxed and confident, and the chopsticks move with far more ease.

It's a much better look on him, you think.

You also spend the entire time resisting the urge to reach out and shape his fingers around the thin pieces of wood. Because if you touched his hands, god help you, you might not be able to stop. The idea is so tempting, though, and it only gets worse the longer you focus on the curve and press of his thick fingers.

You imagine what it would be like to have them grazing over your cheek and down your neck, or dipping along your inner thigh and dragging against your slit. There's a sudden throb of need between your legs at the thought. Now the air of the cab feels stifling, electric with a different energy, but he's so focused on what he's doing, he doesn't seem to notice the way you squirm in your seat.

Instead, you offer tips to help him get it right—from a distance, where it's safe for the time being and you're less likely to do something brash, like grab him and kiss him.

After some more practice, he makes a few unsuccessful attempts to eat and has to stop to pick dropped noodles off of his shirt and lap with a sigh while you giggle next to him. Until, finally, an entire bite makes it from the takeout container to his mouth without spilling.

“I did it!” He beams proudly at you as he chews, those blue eyes now wide and lit up with excitement. And god, it's adorable…except there's a bit of noodle stuck in his beard. You press your lips together to keep from bursting into laughter at him in his moment of triumph. He catches on anyway, and his face falls slightly in confusion. "What?"

"You've got some noodle. Right here." You point at your own face.

He quickly runs a hand over his mouth to wipe it away, but all that does is push the noodle farther down his chin. "Did I get it?"

"No!" You snort out a sharp laugh at his look of panic. So he sets his takeout carton on the center console near the gearshift for a more serious attempt, but his palm scrapes uselessly at his face again. “It's lower now.”

“Glad you're enjoying this.” He tries to sound offended, but there's a twinkle of amusement in his eyes as he feels around for the elusive bit of food, betraying how much he’s enjoying this, too.

"Here." You set your takeout next to his. And then you don't think before you lean across the center console, your hand stretched out and reaching towards him. "It's right…"

You genuinely meant to help and put him out of his misery, but by the time you realize what you're doing, your fingertips are already brushing through the coarse hair of his beard, the why of it completely forgotten. Now you can no longer help yourself. You’ve finally touched him, and he feels so warm and alive beneath your hand.

Your fingers curl against his chin. Then, almost with a mind of their own, they inch towards his jaw, seeking more. You want to run them over his cheeks. His temple. His smile lines. Along the bridge of his nose. His lips. You want to feel out every bit of his face and commit it to memory.

You don't want to let go.

And you nearly don’t stop until a heavy exhale from him sends you crashing back to reality. The one where you're basically groping him instead of helping. You also notice the noodle bit has long since fallen away and landed somewhere unseen onto his lap.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" You gasp in horror. You start to pull away to search for it because, after that, you're too embarrassed to even look at him. But you’ve barely removed your hand when he grabs your wrist, firmly keeping you in place just inches from his face. Your eyes snap up to meet his.

Neither of you moves. Or speaks.

For several tense seconds, the only sound in the car is the rhythmic patter of rain and your heavy breathing as you stare at each other.

The moment stretches between you like a wire, thick and coiled taut, and you're terrified to pull away. Or push closer. As if doing so might snap the tension and ruin whatever this is. Instead, you sit there, frozen at the way his eyes become half-lidded, barely lessening the now undisguised longing in his gaze.

Just when you think it's become too much and you're going to break under the intensity of it all, his thumb brushes against the delicate skin of your wrist, directly over your pulse, sending a shiver through you. And that small touch alone is enough to make all of this profoundly, achingly, real. Distantly you wonder if he can feel the frantic drumming of your heart. Because by now it's pounding so hard with anticipation, your ribs flex with every beat.

He brings your hand back towards his face and rests it against his cheek. As he does, you're mortified to realize you're trembling in his grasp. He must notice as well because, without a word, he flattens his own hand over yours, anchoring and calming between beard and flesh. His eyes dip nearly closed at the sensation, and he nuzzles into your touch, letting the corner of his mouth graze your palm.

You watch as there's the slightest purse of his lips, a shade of a kiss onto your skin, and you suck in a gasp.

He reaches out for you, then. You think he's going to mimic the gesture and cup your face, but instead his knuckles graze along your cheek. He takes a moment to trace and explore the contour of your cheekbone in awe before continuing on, gliding past the shell of your ear, until he's cupping the back of your neck instead with his thumb resting on your jaw. His hand feels massive as it envelops you, the span of it completely covering your nape, making you feel bird-boned in his grasp. But everything about his touch is so tender, so affectionate, that it never occurs to you to feel vulnerable.

Quite the opposite. Combined with his captivated expression, which is so intense that it borders on grief, he's found a new way to make you feel special.

Wanted.

Gently, he begins to guide you towards him as he leans in and stares at your lips. There's no doubting his intentions.

You go willingly. Lead to him. Pulled to him. Sucked so far into that gravity, you’d still be moving even if he let go.

"Liam," you exhale into the shrinking space between you, finally giving voice to your desire.

His fingers flex against your neck at the sound of his name, but he still doesn't stop or speak. His hand continues to guide you closer. Slow and steady. As if he's giving you plenty of time to put an end to this. To pull away and tell him you don't want it. But you do. You want it so much that you almost forget to breathe.

As his lips ghost against yours, your eyes flutter shut. You instinctively push forward, trying to close the distance between you, but he moves away before you can fully capture his mouth. Then he goes back to brushing his lips over yours, cutting off your protest and taking in your sighs and quivers.

It's almost teasing, the way he's taking his time and savoring every step of this—of you—and there's a confidence to his movements you weren't expecting. As if, now that he's gotten you, he knows exactly what he wants to do with you while you're swept along in his wake.

Except you’ve thought about this moment so many times. Indulged in the fantasy of what it might feel like to have his lips against you as his tongue eagerly explores the heat of your mouth. Now you're so close to getting what you want, too, and the anticipation is building into an agonized yearning every second he’s just out of reach.

You're on the verge of whimpering or pleading when he finally, truly, kisses you.

Any thought you might have had is gone. The pressure of his lips, his mouth slotting against yours, his relieved exhale across your skin—the combination makes you dizzy with need. A moan is torn from your throat.

The sound breaks whatever gentle spell had a hold of him because, just like that, his arms are around you, and he's kissing you hungrily.

At first it's desperate. Nothing more than a messy searching of lips before you find your rhythm. Then every bit of it is better than you imagined—the scrape of his beard, his nose nudging into yours, a brief graze of his tongue along your bottom lip before it retreats, leaving you wanting more. And god, do you want more.

As if he knows what you're thinking—or maybe you've said it out loud—he tightens his hold around you and pulls you towards his seat, his mouth never leaving yours. But you don't have time to admire how strong he is as you scramble blindly to get your legs under you. In your haste, your knee hits one of the takeout containers, which sends it toppling over.

You break the kiss to gasp out, "I think it spilled."

"I don't care," he murmurs and captures your mouth again. This time his tongue lingers at the seam of your lips. As you open up to him and taste him for the first time, you decide you don't care either.

You finish climbing into his lap. Every movement is clumsy in the limited space, all groping hands and fumbling limbs. You have to squeeze past the steering wheel and keep your head low so you don't bump it into the roof of the cab. The position is also a bit awkward as you try to find enough purchase to settle your knees on either side of his hips. You even have to adjust your dress to keep it from getting in the way, which forces the hem mid thigh.

None of that matters once you're finally settled. Because, when you lower your weight into his lap, you find him rock hard beneath you. And the only thing separating your bare sex from that impressive bulge in his pants is a pair of lacy panties. You can almost feel the warmth of his cock radiating through the denim.

"Fuck, Liam," you hiss.

You can't start grinding onto him just yet, though, because he quickly reaches between you to adjust himself over his jeans. It's something so intimate and casual—something he has to do because of you—that it's devastatingly sexy. That alone is enough to make your cheeks and neck burn. But when his hand grips over the tented fabric and slides along his length, for a brief moment it sharpens the outline of his erection in his fist, and it sends heat racing between your thighs, leaving you aching. Your hips shift involuntarily at the sudden pressure.

“Better,” he sighs in relief. Then his hands squeeze around your waist to drag you down as his hips roll up to meet you, and you see stars.

Before you’ve even recovered, he draws you back in for another heated kiss. You're so fixated on his mouth, so ravenous for him, you don't notice when he blindly gropes between the seat and the door. So when the seat tilts back all the way without warning, you barely catch yourself with your hands at the last minute to stop from falling forward and smashing your face into his. The motion is such a jolt that you cry out in surprise against his lips. You feel his curl into a smile.

It doesn't last long. The new angle gives your hips the freedom of movement to slide over the full length of him, and the friction makes your arousal thrum with anticipation. His eyes roll shut with a groan.

While he’s distracted, you take a moment to appreciate him like this—the flutter of his eyelashes, his kiss swollen lips, and the way the rain dappled streetlight bathes over his flushed skin. When he opens his eyes again and catches you staring, his expression softens.

Your breath hitches at the sight. Christ, he’s so fucking handsome.

You suddenly realize you don't have to just look anymore. Despite the heat of this moment, you can finally satisfy the urge to run your fingers over his face. So, without hesitation, you reach out and touch his jaw again. Only this time, you don't stop. You gently map out all of his lines and wrinkles, relish the contrast in softness between his skin and beard, and trace along his lips—all while he stares up at you in half-lidded awe.

“God, you're amazing, love.” His voice is low and gravelly as he nuzzles up against your jaw. “The most amazing woman I’ve ever met in my life.”

Your eyes fall closed with a shiver, letting the vibrations of it wash over you, but you don't respond. How can you? What could you possibly say to that?

His thumb caresses over your cheek.

“Look at me,” he coaxes in a soft tone. You slowly open your eyes again to meet his. When you do, he gives you a gentle smile. “I mean it. I've wanted you from the moment you got into my cab.”

Oh.

“I want you, too, Liam,” you finally admit quietly, your own voice thick with emotion.

“I'm still trying to let that sink in.” He shakes his head. “That someone as incredible as you could want someone like me.”

“Of course I do. How could I not?” You sound defensive, but you can't help it. You feel that familiar need to make him see himself the way you do. “I think you're amazing, too.”

“Jesus.” He lets out a heavy sigh. Then he glances down between you, seemingly overwhelmed by your statement.

“Why do you think I kept calling you?” You chuckle breathlessly. “I’ve been making plans and finding any excuse I could just so I had a reason to see you and be in your cab. You had to have suspected I didn't actually need that many rides.”

“I hoped.” His eyes meet yours again and that intensity is back. The muscle in his jaw clenches, making your heart skip a beat. “God, did I hope.”

“It took me far too long to realize just how much.” You lean in to place a slightly heated kiss onto his lips. Then, in a husky voice, you add, “I should have done this ages ago.”

"I don't deserve this," he groans as his hand tightens with rekindling lust around your waist, “but I could never say no to you.”

"Don't I deserve it?" He sucks in a breath beneath you. You let the tip of your nose brush against his as you lower to a whisper. "No one's ever made me feel the way you do, Liam. So please…make me feel even better."

His arms engulf you to capture your lips, just as you start to move over him again.

You continue to kiss as you ride that bulge in his jeans, the stiffness and friction sending delicious sparks up through your core while desire pools between your legs. Every roll of your hips draws needy sounds from your throat and little grunts from his as he rocks up to meet you.

His hands never stop roaming. Up your thighs, a quick squeeze of your ass, and tracing the curve of your waist. Then flattening to drag across your back, stroking along your ribs, and teasing with uncertainty over the swell of your breasts before cupping your cheeks. He leaves flames in his wake.

Yours never stop either. You want to finally run your fingers through his hair. To feel the thickness of his neck and the way the tendons in his jaw flex as he kisses you before wandering lower. And god, those fucking polos do him no favors because underneath you can feel the hard muscle of his chest and shoulders. They've softened somewhat with age, especially at his belly, but it just makes him feel solid beneath you. Steady. Like something you could hold onto.

Every new part of him you touch only makes you want him more.

All of your heavy breathing is trapped inside the taxi, making the air feel thick with humidity. With nowhere to go, condensation is starting to gather on the windows and settle across any exposed skin. It's stifling. You have to keep reminding yourself that you're in a car to stop from ripping your dress off. A part of you still thinks it's a wonderful idea.

Another part reminds you that you don't need to take it off.

You break the kiss.

"I want you, Liam,” you lean in to whisper in his ear. “Right here. Right now."

He shudders with a groan. Then he gently guides you back by the shoulder so he can look into your face. “Right here? You're sure?”

You nod. “It's dark and I've waited long enough. I want you inside of me.”

“Fuck,” he whimpers, and his cock throbs beneath you. “I told you I could never say no to you.”

You gather the hem of your dress, pulling it back and out of the way so both of you can see the way you're pressed against his straining erection. Your need for him is liquid. It's been pouring from you. By now it's completely drenched your underwear, soaking them through. Only it didn't stop there because there's also a rather large damp spot on his jeans from all of your grinding. He groans helplessly again at the sight of it.

“See?” You purr down to him.

“Christ, love,” he chokes out. “Look at you.”

He grasps your bare thighs, kneading at your flesh before sliding them higher and making you shiver—until those large hands are framing your barely covered sex. He takes a second to admire you further through half-lidded eyes. Then he hooks a thumb into your panties and pulls them aside. When your arousal is exposed, a moan gets strangled in his throat, and his clothed hips buck towards you, desperate to bury himself in you already.

Your hands shoot to the fly of his jeans to fight with the button, eager to uncover him as well…just as a thumb brushes over your slit. Instead, your whole body jerks at the contact and you nearly collapse against him. Your grip goes slack.

His expression turns smug at your reaction. So he does it again—harder this time—and the tip of his thumb slips easily past your folds, making you cry out. Then he teases circles at your entrance, smearing through your slick, and you nearly sob into his shirt.

“You feel so good already.” He sounds distracted now, as though he's more focused on what he's doing than how you’re responding. He presses again, sinking until he's knuckle deep, and his lips part with a gasp, enthralled by the way his thumb vanishes inside of you. And, god, even the thickness of that leaves you breathless and writhing. Then he teases you some more at this depth, testing how your walls flutter greedily around him, before slowly drawing back out and dragging some of your fluids over your clit. Your hips pitch forward into his hand with a moan. “Can't wait to get my cock in you.”

“Please,” you beg. All of his teasing and petting has left you helpless, and your trembling fingers move uselessly over his fly, “I can't…”

That seems to get his attention.

He removes his hand and you whimper at the loss…until he takes over for you, making fast, if a bit fumbled, work of his button and zip. Then you're eager to have something even better buried inside of you. So you quickly make room for him as he lifts up and pushes his pants and underwear down to his knees.

When he settles, you finally get to have a look at what you’ve only felt up to this point, and the sight of him makes you feel weak. Because he’s sitting beneath you in his polo, and his hard cock is resting over the fabric still covering his belly.

He’s thick and uncut and twitching under your gaze, and you just know wrapping your hand around him would make you feel small by comparison. Your fingers itch to find out. You can also see a trail of hair disappearing under the hem of his shirt.

You're fighting with the urge to rip the offending piece of clothing up over his head to see just how far up it goes and whether or not it connects with that greying tuft of curls peeking out of the top when he wraps a hand around himself.

Your mind blanks.

You watch, dumbfound, as he begins stroking—working his length until the foreskin slides back to reveal the head, flushed and swollen and leaking in want of you.

The sudden stab of arousal in your core is dagger sharp, leaving you breathless.

“Fuck,” you rasp out, and it sounds as shaky as you feel, “I need you.”

His hand grasps at the base of his erection, keeping the foreskin drawn back and holding himself steady in invitation. When he meets your eyes, you see months of longing and need on his face. How he’s ached for this—would beg to have it if you asked.

You don't hesitate. You make sure your panties stay pulled to the side as you raise yourself to your knees. You wish you had taken them off, but you're far too impatient to stop now. How could you when he's right there, throbbing in his own fist and practically begging you to take him?

With one hand bunched in the fabric of your dress and one braced on his shoulder, you shift into position over him. His tip nudges against you, effortlessly gliding through your folds until he catches at your entrance. Exactly where you need him.

You lower onto him. There's a brief moment of resistance and adjustment at the unfamiliar angle. Then the head of his cock breeches your opening as you both let out twin gasps.

Slowly, you sink onto his length, your walls stretching around him as he fills you, inch by agonizing inch.

He makes it past the halfway point before his patience runs out. He grabs your hips, fingers and thumbs spearing into flesh, and pulls you the rest of the way down onto his cock.

The sound that leaves your mouth is almost as filthy as the one that leaves his.

He keeps you there, unmoving and fully sheathed while he twitches inside of you, and a sob of relief escapes his throat. His eyes are heavy lidded, those full lips are pouting and parted, and his brows are scrunched together in an expression akin to agony.

You're certain you’ll never forget the sight of him in that moment, undone by your cunt.

You drop the skirt of your dress so you can brace against his chest. The fabric falls back into place, hiding the evidence of where you're joined. It’s not unlike when you were just sitting in his lap, grinding over your clothes. Only this time you’re straddling his bare hips and stretched full of him.

You start to move.

The rain has stopped, but outside the drops still linger, glistening and clinging to every surface. Inside, the condensation is now fully coating the glass from your hot breath coming out in sharp pants as you ride his cock. It leaves the world beyond the cab opaque, only leaking through in the trails left by heavy beads of moisture.

He braces himself by planting his feet on the floor of the cab and leaning back against the headrest, using the pressure as extra leverage. Then he's lifting to meet your hips.

"I’ve dreamed of this," he moans as he ruts into you. He doesn't stop staring up into your face—taking in every expression and quiver and noise you make with those intense, blue eyes. His mouth falls open for a moment before he gasps out, “God, your cunt is so sweet.”

You’ve never felt so seen. Wanted. In that moment, you're so utterly sucked in by the gravity of him that you crash your lips against his, desperate to be closer.

His hands bite into your hips as he forces you to keep rocking onto him. You distantly realize the car is rocking with you—that anyone could see and know what's happening—but you can't bring yourself to care. Not when you have him whimpering and groaning into your mouth with his cock inside of you.

Everything about this is fast and messy, but the buildup alone has left both of you nearly frantic with need. You're not even sure how long you’ve been doing this. It's been hours since he kissed you. It's been minutes since he kissed you.

Your overworked thighs are burning, but you refuse to stop. Pressure is building and intensifying quickly inside your core, driving you on and beckoning you to keep moving until you find your release.

His grasp has gotten so tight that his fingers are nearly digging into bone, and he's no longer holding back every whimper or stutter that works its way to his throat. You know he's close, too.

A hand finds your thigh and disappears under the fabric of your dress. He clasps the bend of your hip, and then that thumb that drove you nearly mad earlier is rubbing circles over your clit. You're gutted by the sudden pleasure.

“Want you to come for me, love,” he murmurs up to you as he moves faster between your legs, his hips and thumb working together to destroy you. “Never wanted anything more.”

“Don't stop!” You gasp. You're trembling now. Your thighs are quivering against his hips and the movement has become hard to control, leaving your pace jerky and uneven as you rock over him. “Please!”

“Could never say no to you.” His voice is hoarse and strained as he struggles to hold himself back until you come undone first.

“Liam!” Your hands clutch at his shirt.

“That’s it. Let me see you.”

That last bit of friction is all you need to send warmth exploding through you, and then you’re coming on his cock. You throw your head back with a wail. It scrapes against the roof of the taxi, but you barely notice. Every part of you is consumed with that numbing relief. The way your stretched walls convulse around him. The sound that spills out of him.

If he wasn't holding you up and forcing you to keep moving out of desperation, you’d dissolve in his hands.

Every muscle in his body is taut, strained as he keeps driving into your still pulsing heat. There's ruin on his face when his hips begin to stutter beneath you. Then he slams you onto his cock with a moan and finally comes inside of you.

The throbbing warmth of it fills you with more than a physical gratification. Your heart skips a beat at the way he lethargically works through his orgasm, rocking deep within you. At how his face is now slackened with pleasure, that contentment only broken by the occasional hiss and a shudder from aftershocks—when the sensation of you becomes too much.

You could get addicted to this feeling.

Once both of you are spent and still, you sit there in his lap, gasping for air. His stomach rises and falls against yours while his thumb draws a mindless pattern near the bend in your hip. His touch is warm, even against the ambient heat of the taxi.

Sweat pools along your hairline and back and runs between your breasts. Your body is covered in it, and his skin is similarly glistening. As you’re watching, a drop rolls past the hollow of his throat before disappearing into that tantalizing mess of chest hair left uncovered by his undone top buttons. You wonder what it would be like to nuzzle into it and inhale the masculine scent of sweat and sex before dragging your tongue along his sternum to taste it.

“You okay?” He pants up at you, pulling you out of your daze.

You huff out a laugh as you nod. “Pretty fantastic, actually.”

“Yeah?” He smiles, still breathless.

“Yeah.”

You want to lay against him, snuggle your head under his chin, and stay like that for hours, relishing in this newfound connection. But now that the high is wearing off, you’re very aware you’ve just had sex in the driver's seat of a car. You didn't even move to the backseat or drive to a secluded parking lot! It's a position that’s not only quite public despite the opaque windows, but would require you to contort your body into an uncomfortable shape to do so. Which, regrettably, isn't very ideal for cuddling.

You hadn't been thinking that far ahead at the time.

You give him one last lingering kiss, reluctant to part from him, even as you know you have to at some point anyway. Then you lift yourself off of his lap while swallowing a whimper at both the loss and the surge of wetness between your legs now getting half caught in your askew underwear.

Climbing back into the passenger seat is a slow process because your legs are weak and wobbly, but he gives you a steady hand to lean into. One that engulfs your smaller hand as it wraps around you. You try not to imagine him holding you like this, fingers laced and palms kissing, or else you might not let go.

You both stop to laugh when you bump your head on the roof of the cab.

As you get settled and somewhat put back together, an awkward silence encompasses the taxi. It's not tense like when you got into the front seat. Rather, it's unsure in a different way. It's as if both of you want to say something, but you can't find the right words. Or maybe, without the haze of arousal, they don't come as easily despite the way they build and sit in the back of your throat.

Instead, you take a moment to survey the damage from your earlier fumbling. Thankfully, the takeout spill was minor with only a few of the noodles escaping the carton. He quickly picks them up, and you toss the containers back into the bag.

He rolls down the windows, letting the rain cooled air in to clear the fogged glass and the heavy musk of sex. It feels heavenly on your skin. You lean back in your seat, basking in the light breeze, the weightlessness in your chest, the burning in your thighs, and, most of all, the ache and damp between your legs.

You both still maintain that quiet the rest of the drive with only the low din of the radio in the background. None of the songs register, though, because your mind is too busy racing with thoughts of what happens next.

There's an unbidden hope blooming inside of you that this was more than just sex. You try to rein it in before it takes over and suffocates you with expectation because some part of you is still terrified you’ll end up heartbroken. But every time you glance over at him—take in the profile of his nose and lips, the strong curve of his jaw, the wisp of his eyelashes—you know it's far too late for that.

Instead, you sit there with your heart pounding, wishing you could read his mind and admiring the way the light dances across his face whenever you pass under a streetlight. You can tell when he catches you because he turns to give you a lopsided smile. One he used to shoot back at you in the reflection of his rearview mirror, and the full force of it makes your cheeks burn and your heart flutter before it's too much and you have to look away.

Each time that hope digs in a little more.

Eventually, he pulls the cab along the curb in front of your building. It's the same spot he’s parked in dozens of times, but it looks almost foreign now from the front seat. Or maybe it just feels that way because everything about this situation is so new.

He shuts off the engine, leaving the space in silence as he glances over at you.

This is where you usually part ways. Where you thank him for the ride and pay. Then you climb out, tell him you hope he has a lovely evening, and you leave.

None of that feels right, though. Not after what’s happened between you. More than that, you don't want to walk away as though nothing's changed. Because for you everything has.

So what do you do now? Do you thank him for the wonderful sex? Ask him to dinner? Do you kiss him goodnight and tell him you'll call him later? It's what you would do with anyone else, but with him it's not enough.

Now that you have him, you don't want to let go.

"Would you…" You trail off, suddenly timid. Even though your underwear and thighs are still smeared with this man's come, you know there's so much left unspoken between you. Things you want to give voice to so that the two of you can continue to move forward towards something more intimate and meaningful than car sex. However, doing so is another opportunity to get hurt if he doesn't feel the same way.

Except now you’ve opened your mouth and he's staring at you expectantly, waiting for you to continue. But more importantly: on his face you see that same look of hope reflected back at you.

He wants this, too.

Your anxiety evaporates.

"Would you like to come in?”

His smile is both relieved and tender. He nods.

That's how you end up in your bed with Liam on top of you, entrenched between your legs, cock buried inside of you, and taking you again.

It's different this time. Slower. While the fever and desperation are gone, there's a heavier need churning in their wake. Something between you that was left unsatisfied before.

Now you're wrapped up in each other—a calf tucked behind his knee, and your thigh gripping his hip where he's bent over you. One of his hands is stroking along your hair, and the other is squeezing your waist, holding you in place as his fingers dig divots into your flesh. Your own palms cradle his jaw, cupping him like water to your parched lips.

Through it all, his forehead is pressed to yours, and he gazes down into your eyes from beneath hungry lids. Even if you wanted to, you can't look away from that blue. You're held there, pinned to the bed from the weight of it because even the physical weight of him is nothing compared to the longing you see in those depths.

In the taxi, your closeness was a given. It was overwhelming in the small space, thick like the humidity of your breath, hanging in the air and pressing back in on you. Now it's suffocating in a different way. In the openness of your bedroom, it clings to you. Needy. Touch starved. Terrified that one of you will vanish at the slightest give.

The two of you are so close, you can feel his heavy breath on your face. You can hear the voiceless sounds he makes whenever he buries himself inside of you at just the right angle, each one right there and so loud in the silence.

It's different in that way, too: Neither of you has said a word since you took his hand and stumbled to your bedroom. No pleas or praise. Not when you tore each other's clothes off and finally saw what was waiting for you underneath—the hard panes and curves of him, tan lines and hair, a freckle on his chest, the way his cock hangs thick between his thighs and twitches in your hand. Not even when his fingers dragged over your still wet folds with a groan. Instead, your voices are replaced with sighs and moans and each slick press into your heat.

You don't think you could speak anyway.

He’s fucking you completely breathless. Not from the effort. Not from the way his core flexes and his back rounds every time he thrusts into you. Each steady plunge, a slide and drag of bodies—his chest hair across your nipples, his stomach against yours, his groin grinding into your clit in a maddening friction. No, it's the unmasked passion of it that leaves your heart pounding and your breath caught in your throat.

He fucks you like he watches you: with a sense of reverence. Like he can't believe he has the privilege.

Maybe fuck isn't the right word, then. Because the way his hand moves to cradle the back of your head, thumb grazing behind your ear, feels more like an act of worship than your desperate coupling in the driver's seat of his cab, takeout spilled across the center console.

You've never had sex like this before. Not even with the few people you've whispered I love yous to. The word for it hovers, nameless and heady in the inch of space between you. He breathes it out over your skin, and then you catch it and inhale it into your lungs. As it passes your lips, you can taste it on the tip of your tongue.

You're so close to figuring it out when he angles your head to the side, baring your neck to him and nuzzling his face into the exposed flesh, and your thoughts evaporate. He takes a moment to nose over your pulse, inhaling your scent and warmth with a moan. Then, finally, he’s placing hungry, open mouthed kisses along the column of your throat. It feels so much like he's trying to devour you, that you brace for a sinking of teeth which never comes.

Instead, the scratch of his beard sends a shiver through you, leaving you quivering and covered in goosebumps beneath him. It's too much—sensation, tension, emotion.

It's not enough.

You roll your hips to meet his rhythm, and he lets out a ragged groan—pain and pleasure spilling from his chest. His next plunge is deeper. Harder. Something sparks inside of you.

“Liam,” you gasp, breaking the silence.

Then he’s kissing you, his tongue chasing the sound of his own name into the wet heat of your mouth. So you offer it to him again, a plea for more.

He relents.

He grabs one of your legs and bends it towards your chest, folding you and opening you further to him. This new angle completely traps your clit in the friction of his thrusts.

You grasp at anything you can reach to ground yourself against the onslaught. One of your hands fists your sheet, bunching the fabric in a tight knuckled grip. The other curls through the trimmed hair at the base of his skull. But there isn't enough there to hold onto, and your fingers claw uselessly at his scalp.

The effect it has on him is immediate.

Your nails drag a moan and a full bodied shudder from him. Suddenly his pace becomes urgent, each thrust now punctuated by the joining of skin on skin and a slight shifting along the mattress.

You can feel how close he is from the way he’s tensing against the pleasure building inside of him. From the way he whimpers and clutches back at you, trying to hold on as well. To keep this going just a little longer.

Knowing that his loss of control, that sense of desperation, is because of you, sends you reeling. It isn't long before your legs are quaking against him and your chest is stuttering from your shallow gasps. Every rock of his hips coaxes you further from your control. You can feel your grasp of it slipping, pulling you off balance as you sink deeper into him.

You arch off the mattress—bending as if drawn to him—while every muscle in your body is locked in that moment between tension and release. Then one more moan from him as he rubs against your clit, and you finally break.

Your orgasm shatters white hot at your core, splintering up to churn in your gut and burn through your chest, before resonating outward along every one of your nerve endings, only to recede and start all over again.

As you come, the only thought in your lust fogged brain is him on top of you. Inside of you. The grip he has on your waist. So when your mouth falls open to suck air into your strangled lungs, on the exhale his name spills from your lips.

He looks wrecked by the sound. He buries himself into your fluttering cunt, needing to feel how your walls tighten and clench around him. You protest the sudden loss of friction before your body instinctively seeks it out. You mindlessly grind your hips up against him, riding out the last of your orgasm on his cock until he can't take it anymore.

He grabs you and fucks you, just as mindlessly grunting and rutting into you as he chases his own release. He stares down between you to where his body is joined with yours, watching the way his cock disappears into your folds, his expression stern with concentration. Under the light of the street lamp leaking through your window, sweat glistens on his forehead.

A deep rumble starts in his chest, something half caught between a growl and a whine. His pace quickly becomes erratic, and every time his hips meet yours, you can feel the way he's trembling. You know he's moments from letting go.

You bring your fingers to his chin and force his attention up until his eyes find yours. And god they're so blue, even unfocused in the dim streetlight. Though you're still dazed, you’ve never seen something so beautiful.

“Look at me, Liam,” you breathe out. “I want to see you.”

That's all it takes. His face crumples in agony, and he comes with a sob of relief. He manages a few final thrusts, shuddering and panting his way through each one, until he's finally spent. All the while, his cock twitches and throbs as he fills you for a second time.

You’ve done this once already tonight, but it was different then. The distance was still there while you untangled yourself from his lap, climbed back into the passenger seat, and adjusted your dress. In the way he quietly righted the container of noodles as you struggled to find the words to fill the silence.

This time you don't part.

Instead, he settles in close, pulls you to him, and lays his head on your shoulder with a sigh. In return, you kiss his hair, taking a moment to savor the scent of him—sweat and shampoo and lingering cigarette smoke—and the softness of the thick waves over your lips, before resting your cheek on the crown of his head.

There's nothing between you now. No car seat, no clothes, no more distance.

This is what was missing before in the taxi. This is what you both wanted—what you should have had instead—because this is so easy. As easy as laughter or smiles shared in his rearview mirror.

And it all feels so right. Even though you’ve made yourself vulnerable in his arms, the way he holds you and caresses your palm with his fingertips keeps any further uncertainty or doubt about what this is between you at bay. You know what this is.

You’ve spent months falling for this man, bit by bit. Every time you called him for a ride. Every glance, every simple gesture, every time he made you laugh or lean forward in your seat to find some way to be closer to him. It all sucked you in a little more each time, pulled you into depths you couldn't fathom—more than a crush or attraction or something as simple as affection—and it took you far too long to notice. Now your eyes and your chest burn with the realization.

As if he can sense what you're thinking, he pulls back to place a trail of feather light kisses along the side of your face. You close your eyes, letting the tenderness of it wash over you.

“Stay.” The wave of emotion chokes your voice to a whisper. It's a plea. A hope.

“There's nowhere I'd rather be, love,” he whispers back against your temple. Then he hugs you tight, and there's nowhere you’d rather be either than there in his arms, lulled to sleep by his steady heartbeat and his even breaths across your skin.

It's when he thinks you're asleep that Liam untangles himself, and then sneaks out of your bed and steps into the hallway, carefully shutting the door behind him.

At first you think he's gone to use the bathroom and doesn't want to wake you. Which is sweet! In fact, you're smiling over just how sweet and considerate he is—how content and blissful he’s made you feel—when you hear his voice from down the hall.

It sounds as if he's having a hushed conversation with someone, but that's impossible. There's no one else here. Is he talking to himself then?

You’ve never heard his voice sound like this before, either. He’s frustrated. Annoyed, almost. Nothing like the man that smiles at you from the front seat and asks about your day.

You nearly sit up and call out to him in confusion when—Oh. Wait. No. He’s on the phone, you realize.

At nearly half one in the morning.

He's being quiet enough that, if you were asleep, you probably would have slept through it. On top of that, his words are muffled by the door. So, even though you strain to listen, you don't catch everything he says.

You still hear plenty.

He makes up a story about driving someone…somewhere outside of the city. A request he couldn't say no to, apparently, but you miss his explanation as to why. It's not a big deal, he insists. It's not.

At the end of the call, he says he'll be home in the morning. That you catch.

Then silence falls over you once again.

None of that is true. Obviously. He’s standing naked in your hall, and he’s going to spend the night in your bed, decidedly not driving anywhere.

Which means he was lying on the phone.

You quickly piece together that means he lied to you, too. And the only reason he would have to lie at all, to keep you a secret, is if he isn't actually single. Which also means—

He made you the other woman.

Suddenly, the way he struggled with all of this makes perfect, horrible sense. It was never about you. He always wanted you. It was about his decision to say yes, to give in to what he wanted, despite the consequences and what it would mean.

You're still letting that sink in when he slips back into the room, and you have no idea what to do about it. You need a minute to fucking think. So you try to appear exactly as he left you: undisturbed, curled on your side, and facing the wall. Asleep.

On the inside, however, your heart is breaking.

It happens slowly. At first you're so numb from the shock, and the ache in your chest is so sharp, that the pain takes a moment to register. Like slicing your palm open with a knife and waiting for the wound to bleed. When it finally does, the agony leaves you breathless. You can feel it twisting in your gut, searing through your fingers, and clawing its way up your throat until you're choking on it. Your eyes sting from the pain.

Through it all, you focus on keeping your breathing deep and even to calm your frantic nerves and the trembling of your bottom lip.

He crawls quietly back into bed behind you, clearly believing you're still asleep and trying not to wake you. You try not to stiffen in response.

You're not even sure why you're faking anymore. Perhaps you're still working to get over the shock from the hurt and betrayal. Maybe you want to believe you misunderstood the conversation, even though you know you didn't. Or maybe you’re still trying to figure out what to even say to him.

He lied to you.

Worse, you thought you found something real and lasting with a man that made you smile and feel special—one you felt a connection to. In retrospect, you should have known it was too good to be true, but you wanted it to be. You wanted that so badly. Wanted him.

You feel like such an idiot.

What was this, then? Did he just use you for sex? Were all of those glances and smiles over the course of months faked just for this? How could he have faked even a moment of what you just experienced? The way he looked into your eyes as he… God, even remembering it causes your heart to flutter and heat to pool in your stomach, despite your emotional anguish. You swallow down a sob.

Instead of tucking back into bed, though, he sits there and watches you sleep. You can feel his heavy gaze on the side of your face and the way it lingers before trailing down the outline of your body under the blanket, oblivious to your inner grief or how you lay there bleeding. It lasts several long minutes—longer than you would have thought was possible to watch someone sleep. But it's as if he’s content at the sight of you.

Just when you're finally ready to open your eyes and confront him, to demand the truth, his hand reaches out to stroke over your temple and your cheek. His touch is delicate. He’s still being careful not to wake you as his fingertips ghost across your skin. Then he sighs and it sounds like your name. You didn't think a single breath could carry so much awe and longing.

You didn't think your name could ever sound like that.

He continues to explore and caress you further, gently mapping out the curve of your jaw and the shell of your ear…all while he thinks you're still sleeping. When you couldn't possibly know what he's doing and there's no need for a performance.

Which means he's doing it because he wants to touch you like this.

And every second of it is far more gentle than his voice was the entire time he was on the phone. The voice he didn't say “I love you” in before he hung up, you realize. You're not sure what it means, but it feels important to note.

Because maybe…maybe he wasn't faking anything. Not about how he feels, at least. Not about you.

As your thoughts race, you realize he never actually said he was single either, just that he couldn't get a date to the play or would have to go alone. Sure, the implication was there, and it was a fair assumption to make, but he never said the words out loud. You also wonder what else that means for the state of his relationship, and whether or not it makes any difference. Assuming he was telling the truth at all. Though something about the way he said it makes you believe that part, at least, wasn't a lie.

What are you doing? You know your mental gymnastics and excuses are pathetic. You should have some self respect! Hell, you should kick him out of your apartment and your life for what he's done! But…you just can't bring yourself to do it.

Despite everything, you're still caught in the gravity of him.

Finally, he lays down in the bed and wraps an arm around you, curling himself against your back. His hand splays across your belly, keeping you held to him as he scoots in closer. He's warm and solid, and you can't help but melt into him, skin on skin, as he snuggles into your neck. You love the way his nose instinctively finds all of the sensitive spots that make you gasp, as if he's done this before. As if he knows you.

You fit together perfectly.

You want to stay there, surrounded by him—to let him alleviate the pain he’s caused you and fall asleep for real. Instead, you roll over in his arms.

Your eyes are open now so you can look at him. After all of this, you need to see him in this new light and face the truth of him. You have to know if you can.

When your eyes meet his, there's an expression of yearning and hope on his face that's so profound, your heart aches again, but for a much different reason.

He’s looking at you as though he's a damned man and you're his salvation.

“Sorry if I woke you, love,” he whispers. He cups your jaw in his hand, and his thumb soothes over your cheek in apology.

It's not the apology you need. Not yet. You’ll get that in the morning. Then, afterwards, you’ll have the talk about where you go from here and how he's going to fix this.

Because, as he leans forward to kiss your forehead, his contented sigh warm on your skin, you realize you’ve already made a decision.

“It's okay, Liam,” you reply in a whisper. “I don't care, just as long as you come back to me.”

A/N: I left the play vague for Reader Insert/Choose Your Own Adventure purposes, but the one I had in mind for ME, because it's my absolute favorite, is The Importance of Being Earnest by Oscar Wilde (it was actually, in a strange way, also one of my inspirations while writing this). Which is about a man that leads a double life and pretends to be someone he isn't, only to discover at the end of the play that he essentially IS the man he's been pretending to be and has been all along without knowing. There are parts of Liam that are real and earnest, he just doesn't believe they're enough. He despises his life and the man he's become so much, is so desperate to escape them, that he can't imagine anyone else not feeling the same way about the real him. Except, in this story with this slightly different version of Liam (who's been removed from the events of the episode), that connection IS real. He never needed to lie to get Reader to laugh and fall for him or see a glimmer of the real him. But Liam is a sad, wet, desperate little shit of a man and does anyway. (He’s lucky he's hot.) Fingers crossed that he, too, learns the vital importance of being earnest. Also Earnest's eyes are blue. 😌

#liam black #liam black x reader #liam black x f!reader #x reader #the fear has gripped me but here i go fic #the accused #the accused (bbc)#andy serkis #fanfiction

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forasecondtherewedwon · 9 months ago

Text

second's (eclectic) masterlist

Hello! Under the cut, you’ll find all the fics I’ve written for these fandoms:

television:

The Artful Dodger ⁎ Bodyguard ⁎ Bridgerton ⁎ Daisy Jones & The Six

Daybreak ⁎ Deadly Class ⁎ Dickinson ⁎ A Discovery of Witches ⁎ Dollface

The Falcon and the Winter Soldier ⁎ For All Mankind ⁎ Gilmore Girls ⁎ Hawkeye

Heartstopper ⁎ The Irregulars ⁎ Loki ⁎ The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel

Masters of the Air ⁎ My Lady Jane ⁎ Nancy Drew ⁎ Never Have I Ever

Peaky Blinders ⁎ Percy Jackson and the Olympians ⁎ Preacher

The Queen's Gambit ⁎ Riverdale ⁎ Sanditon ⁎ Schmigadoon! ⁎ Sex Education

The Sex Lives of College Girls ⁎ Stranger Things ⁎ Ted Lasso

The Umbrella Academy ⁎ WandaVision ⁎ Why Didn't They Ask Evans?

The Wilds

film:

Avengers: Endgame ⁎ Black Widow ⁎ The Hunger Games ⁎ Inception

King Kong ⁎ Marriage Story ⁎ No Time to Die ⁎ Spider-Man ⁎ Star Trek

Thor: Ragnorak ⁎ Top Gun: Maverick ⁎ Twisters ⁎ Wonder Woman

daisy jones & the six

E / 3k / Eddie x Camila - “Just Like Andy Warhol Said”

T / 1k - “Life and Death in Laurel Canyon”

E / 4k / Karen x Graham - “Typical Wonderful View”

deadly class

E / 5k / Petra x Billy - “Rats’ Waltz”

E / 9k / Petra x Billy x Lex - “We Test on Rats”

dickinson

M / 2k / Emily x Sue - “Another Dickinson”

T / 1k - “How Luscious Lies”

G / 376 / Emily x Sue - “Lands Away”

a discovery of witches (phoebe x marcus)

E / 2k - “Gladly Be a Fool”

E / 3k - “The Night Today”

the falcon and the winter soldier

T / 7k / Sam x Bucky - 3 Simple Rules for Dating a Centenarian

T / 1k - “À la Carter”

E / 5k / Bucky x Sarah - “Chasing Water Pumps”

E / 8k / Sam x Bucky - The Great Madripoorian Snake Off

T / 3k / Bucky x Sarah - “Guest Side Story”

T / 3k / Sam x Bucky - “Never a Gull Moment”

T / 4k / Sam x Bucky - “Stare Enough”

T / 2k / Sam x Bucky - “They're Sayin' (You're Gonna Be My Man)”

for all mankind

T / 1k / Margo x Sergei - “The Bridges of Madison”

G / 286 / Pam x Ellen - “Ode to the Front Porch”

T / 1k - “This Mortal Doyle”

gilmore girls (rory x jess)

E / 11k - Dreams I’ve Yet to Find

E / 24k - You Need Me to Be With You

the hunger games

E / 2k / Peeta x Johanna - “Elevator Pitch”

E / 2k / Katniss x Peeta - “Finally, Finally”

E / 4k / Katniss x Cato - “Lonely at the Top”

loki

G / 1k - “If You're a Robot and You Know It, Clap Your Hands”

G / 1k - “Mr. Second Chance”

T / 2k - “Riding in Cars With Lokis”

my lady jane

T / 1k / Guildford x Jane - “After the Horse Has Bolted”

E / 3k / Jane x Guildford - “Bad Latin”

E / 3k / Jane x Guildford - “Emotionally Stabled”

E / 15k / Jane x Guildford - It's Enough, It's Enough

E / 4k / Guildford x Jane - “Pure Grey”

T / 4k / Stan x Frances - “So, Hey, Check Me Out”

E / 1k / Jane x Guildford - “These Days Forth”

never have i ever (devi x paxton)

E / 4k - “Boy Meets Girlfriend”

M / 2k - “No Harm, No Towel”

T / 4k - “Runaway Ride”

M / 5k - “Swimming the Sonoran”

peaky blinders

E / 15k / Tommy x Grace - The Grand Dream of Things

E / 3k / Tommy x May - “Preferred Pastimes”

percy jackson and the olympians (2023- )

G / 830 / Sally x Poseidon - “but for the grace of gods”

G / 1k - “lullaby for a rottweiler”

T / 1k / Percy x Annabeth - “salt-and-vinegar dreams”

G / 967 / Percy x Annabeth - “soundtrack to a tooth alignment”

M / 875 / Sally x Poseidon - “a tall, tall tale no one believes”

sex education

E / 3k / Ola x Lily - “and the stars (they all aligned)”

E / 2k / Maeve x Isaac - “Please May I…?”

star trek

E / 3k / Bones x Carol - “The Deserted Planet, the Gorgeous Woman, and the Goddamn Torpedo”

E / 7k / Scotty x Jaylah - Something to Fix

stranger things

T / 2k / Steve x Nancy - “Always Mr. Right”

T / 458 / Eddie x Chrissy - “And Here’s to You, Chrissy Cunningham”

T / 1k / Lucas x Max - “The Kate Escape”

T / 1k / Lucas x Max - “The Lovers’ Lake Effect”

ted lasso

E / 8k / Keeley x Rebecca - “Cat Ladies”

T / 1k - “Crimminology”

E / 2k / Roy x Keeley - “The Halftime of It”

E / 3k / Ted x Sassy - “Sass Backwards”

wandavision

E / 34k / Darcy x Jimmy - Hex Life

G / 1k / Wanda x Vision - “Mailbox Blues”

T / 1k / Wanda x Vision - “The Neighbour Never Rings Twice”

G / 1k / Wanda x Vision - “One Papaya, Two Papaya”

T / 26k / Darcy x Jimmy - Only in a Sitcom

G / 1k / Wanda x Vision - “Our Names in a Heart”

why didn’t they ask evans? (frankie x bobby)

E / 2k - “One-Man Chauffeur”

E / 5k - “Sailors’ Hands”

the wilds

T / 2k - “Fourth Coming”

T / 738 - “Interviews by the Pool”

T / 1k / Shelby x Toni - “a verse about expecting the worst”

one-offs

Avengers: Endgame : Dolls' Eyes

Black Widow : “Same Day, Different Jumpsuit”

Bodyguard : “Don’t Ever Let Me Start”

Daybreak : “Garden-Variety Monsters”

Dollface : “Fender Is the Night”

Hawkeye : “An All-American January Christmas”

Heartstopper : “we sum up perfection like a handbook”

Inception (2010) : “Je Ne Regrette Rien”

The Irregulars : “The Sun Is Coming Up (I Think It’s Time)”

King Kong (2005) : “I’m Actually Quite Familiar With Your Work”

Marriage Story (2019) : “the whole night and the next day together”

No Time to Die : “The Blood You Owe”

Preacher : “Lonely, Handsome”

Sanditon : “Finding Georgiana”

Schmigadoon! : “I Fleetly Flee, I Fly”

The Sex Lives of College Girls : “An Abundance of Caution Tape”

Thor: Ragnorak : “In the Arms of the Anus”

Twisters (2024) : “get ya thinkin' (that you need me)”

The Umbrella Academy : “The Park Across the Way”

Wonder Woman (2017) : “Unconquered”

my fic masterlists

10 fics - the artful dodger

10 fics - bridgerton

13 fics - the marvelous mrs. maisel (midge x lenny)

12 fics - masters of the air

13 fics - nancy drew

13 fics - the queen's gambit (beth x benny)

38 fics - riverdale

71 fics - spideychelle

21 fics - top gun: maverick

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leprosycock · 1 year ago

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pls educate/ advertise f0b / peterick yaoi to me. i know nothing about it but i want to.

uhhhhh okay this is gonna be really fucking long and deranged because i've been into them for like? nine years and i promise you from the bottom of my heart that nothing i will tell you is exaggerated or made up, their relationship really is this twisted and intense and insane. a lot of this is gonna be under the cut for obvious reasons

faII out boy are officially formed in the summer of 2001 when p4trick stump overhears joe tr0hman talking about music in a boarders bookstore and feels the need to jump in and correct him because patrick is extremely pretentious and insane about music, having grown up around it due to his blues-performing dad. joe is personal friends with pete w3ntz, a legend in the chicago music scene that patrick has personally admired for ages. joe invites patrick to come try out for a band that pete wants to start on the side next to his other projects, something just for fun. patrick intends on just becoming a drummer- until he meets pete. then his life is changed forever.

to really put things in perspective, pete is 22 years old and patrick is barely sixteen when they meet. pete is an unstable college kid with unmedicated bipolar disorder and kind of a huge sex freak who's very mean to girls and patrick is a loser virginal high school kid. pete is short and covered in tattoos and his hair is buzzed and he has whiskey-colored eyes and bright big teeth and a smirky smug pouty mouth. patrick is shorter and pasty and a little chubby and he has choppy strawberry blond hair and a big pink mouth and big baby blue eyes. both pete and joe show up to patrick's house to hear him audition and patrick is wearing shorts, black knee-high socks, and an argyle sweater. we know this because pete has repeated this story of their first meeting many, many times.

patrick insists that he wants to play drums and has never thought about singing before, but pete bullies and pokes and prods until patrick finally gives in and sings for him and joe as long as pete promises to be the actual frontman and lets him sink into the background because he's unbelievably shy and insecure. pete is immediately taken with patrick and calls him "the kid with the voice" and a "golden boy" and he gives him a knit cap so he can hide his face in front of the microphone. patrick is wearing this same hat on the cover of their first official debut album, take this to your grave.

their tentative first album, evening out with your girlfriend, is a rushed slapjob full of embarrassingly delightful fruity pop punk hits that patrick today is ruthlessly ashamed of. this was recorded with two other former members, tj and chris, who eventually leave in pursuit of other projects that they believe will be more successful. they continue to be friends with the other boys for a while until pete tries to convince chris' girlfriend to use sex dice with him and this causes a rift and leads to chris cutting pete off and, by extension, the band. after these two leave, pete brings in a permanent drummer, andy hurley. andy is a pacifist and a vegan and has a voice like a kitten and is an all-around good guy and well-rounded adult who's around pete's age. they record take this to your grave. during the summer, pete takes his pet high schoolers and his fellow hardcore music scene buddy around on tour in joe's mom's shitty old van so the boys don't have to miss school. (or, more accurately, he has joe do it, because pete does not have a valid driver's license at the time.)

one of the singles on tttyg is called saturday. pete and patrick write a lot of lyrics together for this album and saturday is another joint effort. here are some lyrics:

and here is the description for the music video:

The video features all of the band, but particularly frontman Patrick Stump and Pete Wentz. Pete is killing the other band members and their friends, leaving a Queen of Hearts playing card with each of the bodies. Patrick is a detective tracking the "killer". During the bridge of the song, Patrick and Pete are seen in the same position, sitting on a bed with a wall of pictures of Pete's victims in the background, suggesting that Patrick and Pete may be the same person. In the end, Pete kills Patrick, but because Pete and Patrick turn out to be the same person, Pete dies as well.

they perform this song at the end of every show and they have since 2002. pete spent their entire tour in 2015 grabbing his dick during this song for some reason ?? idk but i have pictures:

during the tttyg era, pete and patrick become VERY fast and VERY intense best friends. patrick is extremely temperamental and impatient and has a short fuse and pete has routine breakdowns and is a general violent, obnoxious asshole who likes to torment patrick for fun, so a lot of their interactions tend to ignite like throwing a match on gasoline. he once famously strangled pete with a gas pump, has thrown punches at him in the studio, and cursed him out over small disagreements. for those curious, this feisty little sweaty golden firecracker of a boy looked like this:

just so you know what we're dealing with.

the rest of them looked like this ^ andy, pete, patrick, and joe respectively. patrick did that gay little wrist flick in photoshoots a lot for some reason

it's important to note that pete was a genuine creep around patrick and was VERY WEIRD WITH HIM. during this van days era, pete tried to carve a peephole into his bedroom door when they all shared a shitty apartment together in roscoe village and never left his side. he talks about him frequently on livejournal and their website and i will quote some of these incidents here: 04/16/05: patricks birthday is tommorrow. i am in love with him so give him presents. 06/09/05: when i want patrick to sing in my ear i call him on the phone and he does it 06/16/05: that kid is my best friend and the rest of the world could blow up and fall out boy can break up and he still will be 10/11/05: i dreamt him. q&a incidents from the official fob website:

pete fucking adores this kid with everything in him. patrick is routinely frustrated with pete and his inability to grow up, but he's still just as maddeningly in love and still maintains a sense of hero worship for him and considers him a tragic figure that needs to be protected. they become very codependent.

during van days, they record and release an acoustic album called my heart will always be the b side to my tongue. they also release a dvd called release the bats, which is a hideous nightmare clusterfuck involving a lot of pete doing really gross shit for attention such as vomiting on the floor, pissing in garbage cans, and hurting himself and his friends alongside showcasing some of their live shows and performances with other friends in fueled by ramen, a borderline incestuous record label where everyone knows each other and is constantly collabing and doing shows together. included on this dvd is a short film that pete and patrick make called bedussey. they film this while sharing a dirty disgusting mattress in an even smaller apartment than the last during their writing sessions. it's fucking awful, watch it

just before the release of their second studio album, pete overdoses on ativan in a best buy parking lot while hallelujah plays on the radio. the first person he calls is patrick, who doesn't pick up, and then he finally tries his mom and his doctor. he writes two songs about this, 7 minutes in heaven and hum hallelujah. he also talks about this incident in his book, grey, but that comes much later. not terribly long after this, his nudes get leaked and it's ambiguous for a while as to who posts them, but it's theorized that it was actually chris or a friend of his. i can't honestly remember how much of this was confirmed. pete's life is surrounded by tragedy and flashbulbs constantly popping in his eyes and it's a mix of him bringing it on himself and not finding the help he needs and having terrible, terrible luck in love and in himself.

during this time, he's in an incredibly twisted and unhealthy relationship with a seventeen year old named jeanae white. she cheats on him five million times and vise-versa and they're very mean to each other. she also plays a pivotal role in his book later on. they break up for good in 2006. there's also a vague theory that he had a brief fling with mikey way in 2004 which is referred to as "the summer of like" by those invested. it may very well be true but i couldn't give a fuck about that if i tried; i'm a peterick loyalist. he marries ashlee simpson in 2008 (most likely due to her unplanned pregnancy, even though he was pretty in love with her at the time) and has a baby boy named bronx with her. during this era, patrick is in a committed relationship with a girl named anna who eventually cheats on him and it tears him apart.

jumping back a bit, from under the cork tree is their third official studio album (if you count b side, which i do) and it contains a lot of very interesting music.

the original lyric was meant to be "just friends" and for some reason, patrick changed it to "best friends" in the final cut. the name of this song is 'i've got a dark alley and a bad idea that says you should shut your mouth (summer song)'. pete LOVES to use the idea of summer in his music, which is so interesting, because fall out boy's first tour was in the summer, he and patrick have spent the fourth of july in a beach house together (REMEMBER THIS), and their biggest projects have been produced over summers. it's also worth mentioning that pete has kissed patrick on the neck more than once during shows. even more worth mentioning that pete is REALLY fucking clingy with patrick on stage.

^ they sing this at each other. i don't really know what else to say

their next album, infinity on high, is slightly more artsy and, in my opinion, a fucking masterpiece. one of the most valuable tracks on this album is g.i.n.a.s.f.s. (gay is not a synonym for shitty) and i will explain why

"trade baby blues for wide eyed browns" alongside literally walking in someone else's shoes and physically trying to become them or embodying them is just following a theme that pete and patrick have been portraying for years, about how the two of them are inherently the same person, two sides of the same coin. pete says they experience cryptophasia, an implicit, intimate language that can only be used by twins. their next album is even titled folie a deux, "the madness of two". pete later writes about a character named martin (patrick's irl middle name) in grey, who he talks about saving the main character's (pete's) life on the roof of a hotel. "some nights it gets so bad i almost pick up the phone" = pete has said multiple times that patrick has sang to him on the phone to calm him down or help him fall asleep because patrick's voice really is that healing for pete. also possibly another reference to pete's suicide attempt and how his call to patrick failed ?

lastly, here's a quote from pete's livejournal in 05 when he was babbling about patrick:

"i know i am sal and i feel damn lucky to have the wind blowing in the thru the windows as he keeps us at 80mph. make no mistake, there is a difference between a parlor trick and true blue magic. i will remember this til the day i die."

fuck you

2007-2008 is full of massive, massive drama. alongside pete's ongoing war with the media and his almost immediate marital issues with ashlee, he's ALWAYS fighting with patrick inside and outside the studio, both physically and verbally. the band is constantly getting called sellouts and posers and were heckled very badly during the tours they did to promote folie a deux. it's kind of the beginning of the end.

for folie, pete writes a song called what a catch donnie. this is a ballad that pete writes from patrick's perspective that he is very, very nervous to show to him and almost doesn't. showing him something so heartfelt and vulnerable is dangerous given the current nature of their relationship. this is that song.

the music video stars patrick as a sea captain who's lost and lonely and trying to get home and he's eventually rescued by many of his irl close friends through fueled by ramen. but pete never appears.

after the round of tours for fad ends, they release a greatest hits album called believers never die and the coffin lid starts to slide closed. the band is well and truly dissolving; the reception for fad was very poor and miserable and pete and patrick truly cannot work together anymore and both joe and andy are tired of trying to put up with them. pete tells the boys he's going to leave and the breakup is mutual, to say the least. pete has his head shaven on stage as a ritual of mourning during 'saturday'. pete says in interviews that he thinks his name and his marriage and all the drama that saturates his life became a hindrance to the band.

fob is on hiatus from 2009 to 2013. during this time, pete forms the band black cards and seeks out a female vocalist specifically because he doesn't want to "replace patrick". he writes grey, opens nightclubs, divorces ashlee, abuses prescription drugs, and wants to die. patrick loses a bunch of weight and produces a solo pop album called soul punk. it has a very poor reception and he's bullied and tormented by fans who go to his shows just to tell him he sucks and he wants to die just as badly as pete does. he also gets married, but whatever

he bleaches his hair and dresses like this the whole tour because he's a massive faggot:

i have this whole theory about how his song run dry is about gay sex. a lot of the album is about infidelity too. he claims that this is because it's a "concept album" but it .. really kind of isn't. patrick is not very good at lyrics. (SOMETIMES. we'll come back to this too.)

pete and patrick do not talk to each other for a bulk of the hiatus. pete says that the hiatus felt like a breakup and hurt just as badly. closer to the end of this painful spell, pete calls patrick to say "i helped buy your house and now you don't even know my kid, that's messed up" and they have to learn how to be friends again. there are vague statements from the band about how they had a series of work meetings before seriously discussing the idea of reuniting. patrick also sends pete a postcard, telling him he has music he wants to show him if he's willing to see it.

in 2013, out of fucking nowhere, like a couple weeks after pete assures the media that fall out boy will never reform, they drop an album called save rock and roll and the band is back for good. as they release this album, they also release a massive and incredible series of eleven music videos for the entire album called the young blood chronicles. essentially, fall out boy plays a group called the members of the faith and they have to essentially defend music from courtney love, who plays a nazi-esque dictator leading a group of leather-clad women who want to establish a dystopia where music doesn't exist. music = faith. the women steal patrick away and put a demon in him and chop his hand off and he turns evil and starts to murder the rest of the band, including pete.

the most important track on this album is miss missing you.

pete wrote a good chunk of the lyrics for this album, as he is wont to do (this changes later on but it's still mostly pete for now), but this song is all patrick. this was a song he wrote for soul punk, but he never recorded it because, in his words, "it sounded too much like a fall out boy song". this particular installment in the ybc involves solely pete and patrick, separated from the rest of the band after joe and andy have left. this entire music video is about patrick trying to kill pete and struggling to do so, at war with his own humanity that keeps slipping through the cracks. pete has said that this is his favorite music video that the band has ever made.

relevant quotes:

"pete's my best friend. i was the best man at his wedding, i love that man to death. i'd take a bullet for him."

"[patrick is] probably my best friend in the whole world. this is one of the only people in the world that i would take a bullet for."

also! summer! summer summer summer! summer never dies!!!

2013-2014 are essentially a honeymoon phase. fob do tons of interviews, immediately make plans for a brand new album to follow srar up with, and they record an insane ep on a whim called pax am days. they do it while ridiculously drunk. it's REALLY good and SOOOO underrated and some of the most interesting music they've ever made. pete and patrick record a commentary track for the ybc. they're best friends again- admittedly less physically clingy, but they're older and more grown up and pete is more secure in his relationship with patrick. they're easygoing and comfortable and they love being around each other again and they're irrevocably in love.

late 2014-early 2015 birth their next album, american beauty/american psycho. i have a lot of emotional attachment to it because i was old enough to witness this release in real time and this was the height of my obsession. there are a LOT of fascinating things to pick apart in this album, but here are my favorites (tumblr won't let me add more than 30 images per post for some reason ?? i didn't know there was a limit but alright. Sure):

And in the end I'd do it all again I think you're my best friend Don't you know that the kids aren't al-, kids aren't alright? I'll be yours When it rains it pours Stay thirsty like before Don't you know that the kids aren't al-, kids aren't alright?

very obvious. the kids aren't alright was more or less confirmed to be about patrick and pete tended to get very lovey-dovey on stage whenever they performed it.

Do you, do-do you remember When we drove, we drove, drove through the night And we danced, we danced to Rancid And we danced, we danced And I confessed, confessed To you riding shot-gun Underneath the purple skies And we danced, we danced With windows down And we danced, we danced (Spin for you like your favorite records used to) (Spin for you like your favorite records) You were the song stuck in my head Every song that I've ever loved Play it again and again and again And you can get what you want but it's never enough And I spin for you like your favorite records used to And I spin for you like your favorite records used to

And I can’t, I can’t I can’t remember just how to forget Forget the way that we danced We danced to Danzig And we danced, we danced And when you ask, you ask me how I’m doing Like you know, you know how much better off I am And when we danced, we danced With windows down And we danced, we danced (Spin for you like your favorite records used to) (Spin for you like your favorite records)

favorite record is a big one because of pete's "patrick is an ipod full of my favorite songs" and "you ask me how i'm doing, like you know how much better off i am", a possible reference to the hiatus and their inability to communicate. i'd also like to firmly call back to pete's quote about driving with patrick and remembering that day until he dies.

and, lastly, fuck me:

I'll be as honest as you'll let me I miss your early morning company If you get me You are my favorite what if You are my best I'll never know And I'm starting to forget Just what summer ever meant to you What did it ever mean to you?

Oh, I'm sorry I didn't mean any of it I just got too lonely, lonely, whoa In between being young and being right You were my Versailles at night

It was the fourth of July You and I were, you and I were fire, fire, fireworks That went off too soon And I miss you in the June gloom too It was the fourth of July You and I were, you and I were fire, fire, fireworks I said I'd never miss you, but I guess you never know May the bridges I have burned Light my way back home on the fourth of July

My 9 to 5 is cutting open old scars Again and again 'til I'm stuck in your head Had my doubts but I let them out You are the drought And I'm the holy water you have been without And all my thoughts of you They could heat or cool the room, and no Don't tell me you cried Oh, honey, you don't have to lie

I wish I'd known how much you loved me I wish I cared enough to know I'm sorry every song's about you The torture of small talk with someone you used to love

fuck!!!! fuck!!!!!!! summer again!!!! we're back to summer and back to the fourth of july i told you that would be important later. finding your way back home on the bridges you burned. memories of squandered youth trapped in these moments from years back and viewing someone as this grand monument worthy of worship and posterity. "my nine to five is cutting open old scars", pete's job, what he's been filling his life with for years, the music that he makes for a living. "i'm sorry every song's about you" = doesn't have to be literal. i believe it's more so about the idea that so many songs are about patrick and it's more tongue-in-cheek, despite how melancholy it is. i believe this song is a grand release for pete and a way for him to reconcile his feelings after years of confusion and longing and torment. but that's all just a theory

it's also worth mentioning twin skeleton's, which a lot of peterick truthers theorize is about pete and patrick having flings in hotels during tours throughout 06-09. it's not really definitive and it's very conspiratorial, but i do enjoy thinking about it

there's a three year gap between albums this time and then we get mania, which is by all accounts awful. people can defend this album all they want, but i think it's fucking terrible and patrick admits that it was rushed and he doesn't like it and he's right and he should be ashamed. i hate this album. it sounds terrible and there are very few good songs on it. they did a ton of promotion for this record and did a pop-up event where they had rooms you could go through based on each track of the album. they really, genuinely tried, but it was a miss. i was so frustrated with this album that i really don't have much to say about it peterick-wise, but this tour was the first time that i was actually able to see them live, so i can't really stay mad at them. they played thriller and opened with disloyal order <333 (which, by the way, is also about patrick, confirmed by pete himself! he said that "half-doomed and semi-sweet" is a literal description of himself and patrick.)

i do like young and menace, hold me tight or don't, and wilson, but none of them feel like fob. moving on.

they release the lake effect kid ep in 2018 and believers never die volume two. lake effect kid is a BEAUTIFUL fucking track and it made me actually ache for what mania could've been if they'd just returned to their roots. that'll come soon though.

Boomerang my head Back to the city I grew up in Again and again Forever a Lake Effect kid

Oh, I got the skyline in my veins Forget your nighttime Summer love on a gurney with a squeaky wheel And joke us, choke us 'Til Lakeshore Drive comes back into focus I just wanna come back to life Spark my crazy head to keep you warm at night

summer love :))) it never ends :))))))

2023 saw the release of so much (for) stardust. this is one of the strongest albums they've had since the hiatus and i really, really love a lot of it. as New as it feels, it's still very fall out boy at its core and it's full of heart and it's passionate and it's pure.

We were a hammer to the statue of David We were a painting you could never frame and You were the sunshine of my lifetime What would you trade the pain for?

^ love from the other side. pete has likened patrick to sunshine, sunsets, sunlight, and the color gold many, many times while talking about him. there are a lot of songs where he uses the sun as a metaphor for longing, something he can never reach because he's eternally eclipsed in shadow.

My moodboard is just pictures of you, but I'm not sad anymore So make no plans and none can be broken, no plans and none can be broken But I didn't take the love when I had the chance, but I swear I'm not sad anymore So make no plans and none can be broken, no plans and none can be broken

Do you laugh about me whenever I leave? Or do I still need more therapy?

Love is in the air, I just gotta figure out a window to break out Buried alive inside my dreams, but it was all a fake-out And I don't care, I just gotta figure out a window to break out Buried alive inside my dreams, but it was all a fake-out, fake-out

Oh-oh, we all started out as shiny dimes But we all got flipped too many times We did it for futures that never came And for pasts that we're never gonna change

fake out makes me want to die in the most intense way, mainly because there's something so utterly familiar about it. it's SO fob and it's one of the best tracks they've put out since the hiatus. it's also .. so ..... it's very similar to fourth of july for me. this is recovery from the pain and finally coming to acceptance while acknowledging the past, love that was never reciprocated. it's not something that ever really goes away. it'll linger, especially when you still see so much of that golden boy that you first fell in love with the second he opened his mouth and began to sing to you.

i will state emphatically that through all my speculation, none of this is meant to be taken at face value aside from the direct quotes and irl incidents. most music comes from anywhere and everywhere within an artist. artists draw from their real life and nothing has to be literal, but pete writes about a lot of real people. grey is about as subtle as a sledgehammer when it comes to his representation of people he knows irl. sometimes he's writing about exes and sometimes he's writing a story. sometimes he's writing about patrick. we never really know for sure. but it's fun to think about!

i'm really passionate about them and i adore their relationship inside and out. a lot of it is really fucked up and weird and twisted and crazy and a lot of it is genuinely so beautiful and tragic. even if they're not fucking and never have and have never thought about it, they're undoubtedly soulmates in any way you feel like interpreting that. they love each other massively and endlessly and it's a fire that has refused to really die for over twenty years. i love them a lot and i hope you enjoyed this essay!!!

#this is also just the tip of the iceberg i hope you know. this isn't even half of it .#i have so many fun facts about them locked away in my head forever and they're fucked up and sick and twisted.#bunnyaskz

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xtcz · 9 months ago

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hi, new ish xtc fan here .. was wondering if you know thr best places to find like the most niche info about them? if that makes sense LOL theyve just been scratching the brain so good and ive read song stories but i want More .. hope its not weird to ask you this :[

it’s never weird to learn about xtc…….

erm for some photos and song notes and interview transcripts chalkhills.org is my best best friend. they’re an old style fansite with tons of archived stuff, they also have tons of xtc guitar tabs 😁😁 optimismsflames.com is another old fansite i look for stuff on, they’re a little harder to navigate but still have a boatload of stuff up. those are places i go when i have a specific thing in mind mainly; a specific image i’m searching for or someone’s thoughts on a particular song. but they’re good to just browse too i’ve spent many an hour that way

they only have one traditional biography, chalkhills and children, written by chris twomey. it’s kind of surface level but also a really fun read for weird little stories & quotes. this book is a really good example of how xtc were not the average rock band in terms of drinking sex drugs etc but what they had going on was Considerably More Insane for other reasons mainly they are collectively 5 of the little fucked up freaks of all time

complicated game is another song book which you may not get much out of if you’ve already read song stories, but i think it’s a little more complete. i’ve heard a couple fans say that out of all the xtc books, complicated game is the best & has great insight into the music, specifically for musicians but for anyone 😁

gonna also link some documentaries and specials i loveee all free on youtube:

this is pop— documentary that came out in 2017. the only documentary ever made about xtc. corny and very low budget but soo lovingly made and genuinely so good if you love them. fits the tone of the band well. i’ve seen it so many times

xtc at the manor— tv special filmed while xtc were at the manor studios for single work for black sea, following the recording and mixing of an alternate for the generals and majors single. they all talk about their instruments and how they chose music as a pursuit, also day to day footage in and around the studio. this one is my utter beloved

xtc play at home— (in three parts, 1 2 3) a special from 1984, xtc talk about their music as well as their hobbies. there are also some very low budget and hard to find music videos for some of the songs off mummer. dave talks about his guitars. andy talks about his board games. colin talks about Fishing. i love this one

recording nonsuch at chipping norton studios— this is a 50 minute home movie type special following the rehearsal and recording of nonsuch. i’ve seen this one through less times than the other two i linked because nonsuch is erm. my least favourite of their discs sorryyyy but it’s still a really good watch and i know a lot of folks love nonsuch

dm me if you want interview links too or anything, i tried to keep this list to longer video stuff but they have so many good interviews too

ultimately i don’t know if any of this stuff is niche. it’s all out there free online. the path you take with your poking around and research is yours :^) but i do think there’s great stuff in everything here and hopefully you’ll find something that suits your fancy

#xtc band #word okay. really nothing is niche everything is a matter of do you care enough to put time into reading/watching it tbh #i love that someone cares :’) the world is so beautiful

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galathynius · 11 months ago

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2024 reading log

what would jane austen do? by linda corbett / dec. 31-jan. 5 / 3 stars

exit strategy by martha wells / jan. 7-9 / 4 stars

the wake-up call by beth o'leary / jan. 10-11 / 3 stars

red seas under red skies by scott lynch / jan. 15-feb. 3 / 4 stars

emily wilde’s map of the otherlands by heather fawcett / feb. 4-8 / 5 stars

in the woods by tana french / feb. 9-19 / 4 stars

network effect by martha wells / feb. 19-28 / 4.5 stars

the martian chronicles by ray bradbury / feb. 28-mar. 5 / 4 stars

chain gang all-stars by nana kwame adjei-brenyah / mar. 6-10 / 5 stars

the fragile threads of power by v.e. schwab / mar. 11-apr. 14 / 4 stars

interesting facts about space by emily r. austin / apr. 14-18 / 4 stars

the no-show by beth o’leary / apr. 18-21 / 3 stars

not that kind of guy by andie j. christopher / apr. 22-may 1 / 2 stars

bright young women by jessica knoll / may 1-8 / 5 stars

funny story by emily henry / may 10-11 / 4 stars

annie bot by sierra greer / may 11-19 / 4 stars

the familiar by leigh bardugo / may 22-30 / 3 stars

how to end a love story by yulin kuang / may 301-jun. 1 / 2 stars

the family game by catherine steadman / jun. 1-5 / 2 stars

dark places by gillian flynn / jun. 7-12 / 3 stars

fugitive telemetry by martha wells / jun. 13-14 / 4 stars

tomorrow sex will be good again: women and desire in the age of consent by katherine angel / jun. 14 / 4 stars

the war of the worlds by h.g. wells / jun. 15-19 / 4 stars

the likeness by tana french / jun. 20-jul. 1 / 4 stars

so late in the day by claire keegan / jul. 1 / 4 stars

with love, from cold world by alicia thompson / jul. 2-4 / 4 stars

stone cold fox by rachel koller croft / jul. 4-8 / 3 stars

friday black by nana kwame adjei-brenyah / jul. 8-12 / 4 stars

the art of catching feelings by alicia thompson / jul. 12-15 / 3 stars

the night shift by alex finlay / jul. 16-22 / 3 stars

system collapse by martha wells / jul. 22-28 / 4 stars

the vulnerables by sigrid nunez / jul. 29-aug. 4 / 3 stars

the days of abandonment by elena ferrante / aug. 13-18 / 3 stars

you should be so lucky by cat sebastian / aug. 18-21 / 5 stars

faithful place by tana french / aug. 22-sep. 7 / 4 stars

the housemaid by frieda mcfadden / sep. 11-14 / 2 stars

trust by hernan diaz / sep. 14-29 / 3 stars

the housemaid’s secret by frieda mcfadden / oct. 7-11 / 2 stars

vampires in the lemon grove and other stories by karen russell / oct. 11-17 / 3 stars

how to kill men and get away with it by katy brent / oct. 17-20 / 3 stars

only if you’re lucky by stacy willingham / oct. 20-26 / 3 stars

lovecraft country by matt ruff / oct. 28-nov.5 / 4 stars

the housemaid is watching by frieda mcfadden/ nov.8-10 / 2 stars

a doll’s house by henrik ibsen / nov. 10-11 / 4 stars

#allison's reading log

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theycallmebecca · 2 years ago

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18+ Drabble: The Great Tease

A few days ago, I was inspired to write a thirst trap story, but with a twist and that's what this is. I made a moodboard and I used photos I found here on tumblr and shared with friends in a discord, but that means I don't remember which blogs the photos originally came from...

Title: The Great Tease

Pairing: Andy Barber x female reader

Rating: R

Warnings: suggestive, fade to black sex scene

Disclaimer: This work of fiction is not to be reposted, used or translated without my permission.

18+ Disclaimer: This work contains sexual material that is for those over the age of 18. By clicking the keep reading link below, you are agreeing that you are over the age of 18 and are not offended by sexual content.

Usage Disclaimer: This work is for fans only. This author does not give permission for it to be shared, spoken of, referred to in any public manner (podcast, tv, online, etc.) that wants to either make a celebrity uncomfortable, mock fan fiction/fandom in any way, or the author themselves. Requests can be made, but it is unlikely the author will change their mind. If no response is given to a request then the answer is a solid no, not interested and the work cannot be shared, spoken of or even referred to, regardless of the manner or context.

“Have fun this weekend,” you said to Andy before you kiss him goodbye.

“Ugh, come on, you two,” your best friend said, feigning disgust. “Save something for the honeymoon.”

“Go wait in the car,” you told her with a laugh. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Fine, but I’m setting a timer for five minutes,” she said before leaving with your bags.

“What are you doing this weekend?” you asked Andy.

“Just hanging with the guys,” he replied with a shrug. “Probably play some golf, maybe some video games. I’ll definitely be available for anyone who needs to escape…”

“She’d kill us both,” you said with a laugh. “And killing the bride and groom during the bachelorette party would probably ruin the wedding…”

“LET’S GO!” your friend yelled from outside.

“I’ll text you when we get in there,” you told him then gave him one more kiss before you left.

“About time,” your friend muttered.

You stuck your tongue out at her then got into the car.

It wasn't until the two of you arrived at the rental house and you grabbed your phone to let Andy know that you were there, that your friend said, "This is a no boys allowed weekend. That includes texting."

"Just let me tell him that we got here, I promised," you told her.

"Fine, but I'm warning you right now, if he texts you at all while we're here, you're showing it to all of us," she stated. "No matter what. And no warning him, either."

You shook your head and sent Andy a quick text:

Here. Have a good weekend! 😘

Then you showed it to your friend. She nodded her approval and then the two of you got out of the car.

—------

"I know this was meant to be a girls' weekend, but I'm surprised I haven't gotten a single text," Andy said, later that evening as he and his friends had dinner together.

"Maybe we should text them and make sure they're ok?" one of the guys he didn't know as well said.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," your best friend's husband said.

"Why not?" one of the others asked.

"What do you know?" Andy asked, narrowing his eyes.

"I overheard my wife on this phone this morning," the husband explained. "If anyone, but especially you, Andy, sends a text while they're at this thing, it's getting read aloud and shown to everyone."

"Even dick pics?" one guy asked, nervously glancing at his phone.

"Anything that is sent from the moment they arrive to the moment they leave," your best friend's husband stated. "So be careful what you send."

After dinner, Andy went back to the house with your best friend's husband and another of their mutual friends, who were crashing at the house since they lived out of town.

"Your wife doesn't know you know, right?" Andy said as they drank beers.

"No, I didn't say anything to her about it, why?" the husband asked.

"Because we could have some fun with this," Andy said with a smirk.

"I'm not showing my junk to all those crazies," the mutual friend stated.

"We're not showing junk to any of them," Andy agreed. "But it doesn't mean we can't take some staged photos and send them to them. Think thirst traps."

"But won't it be suspicious if we all do them?" the husband asked. "Maybe it should just be you."

"I agree, it should just be you," the mutual friend stated with a laugh. "It will get the best reaction."

"Fine, you chicken shits," Andy said. "But I'm going to need help taking the photos."

————

The first text came as you, your best friend and your three bridesmaids were getting ready to play a game.

At your best friend’s insistence, you’d all changed your text alerts to be something different so it was easier to tell them apart. You and the others had overruled her idea, however, that the person receiving the text couldn’t be the one to look at the phone.

“That’s you,” she said, smugly.

“I know,” you replied as you got up to get your phone from where they sat on the counter. Looking at your phone, you saw that Andy had sent a photo and found yourself grateful that the majority had overruled the dick pic sharing rule, too. Meaning no dicks would be exposed.

Going into your messages, you nearly choked when you saw the photo Andy had sent you. It was just his bare pecs and torso, but it was a close up, showing off all his muscles.

“She definitely got something good,” one of the others cackled.

“Come share it with the group,” your best friend said with a smirk.

Grudgingly, you handed her your phone and they all leaned in to take a look.

“Hot damn,” one of them said while another whistled.

“I knew he was hot, but lucky you,” another said, winking at you.

“Ok, enough ogling my future husband,” you said, grabbing the phone. “We have a game to play.”

“Fine, but you aren’t allowed to text him back,” your best friend reminded you.

“I know,” you replied though you were suddenly wishing you were at home with Andy and his muscles instead of with your friends.

Hours later, a second photo came as you all were getting ready for bed. This photo was of Andy in bed with a picture of his torso and half of his hip 'V' on display with the rest of his lower body hidden under the sheets.

“Are you sure we can’t call our partners?” one of your friends asked after passing the phone.

“No boys allowed!” your best friend stated.

“She’s just jealous 'cause her husband doesn’t look like that,” another muttered as she looked at the photo a little too long for your liking.

Once you had your phone back, you gave it a last, longing look then locked it for the night, thankful that each of you had your own room.

The third and fourth photos were waiting for you when you woke up the next morning. One was Andy standing at the kitchen island, coffee cup on the counter and his hoodie unzipped showing his entire torso. The other was Andy with his back to the camera and only wearing an apron with the top of his ass showing.

“I don’t know if I can look Andy in the eye anymore,” one of your friends said. “Not after these thirst traps.”

“Did you tell him?” your best friend asked, looking at you.

“When would I have told him? You only let me text him once and that was to let him know we were here,” you replied. “And you read that message.”

“You told me on the phone the other day,” another friend spoke up, looking at your best friend. “Did your husband overhear? He’s with Andy isn’t he?”

“I’m going to kill him,” she muttered and reached for her phone.

“Uh huh,” you said, grabbing it with a grin on your face. “No boys allowed. Your rule.”

“Your future husband is sharing all his goodies,” she replied.

“Not all of them,” you stated. “Besides, it’s kind of fun. They think they have one over on us.”

Your phone dinged at that moment and you opened it and your jaw dropped. Andy was wearing his wedding tux with the shirt completely open and he was stretched across the bed, showing off his torso.

“Fuck,” you muttered when you could finally think again. You looked up at your friends and blinked, once again wishing Andy was nearby to jump.

“Distance makes the bride to be hornier,” one of the girls teased.

You flipped her off and placed the phone on the table for them all to see.

Five additional thirst trap photos were sent to your phone during the remainder of your girls weekend, each of them highlighting Andy’s torso and/or arms and proving that Andy knew just which parts of his body you liked the most.

You were so turned on by the photos that you didn't invite your friends and their significant others to have dinner with you and Andy like you had originally planned to. Instead, you had practically rushed them all out of the house, upon getting home, then turned to your future husband.

"Strip," you ordered him.

Andy's eyebrows shot up and then he grinned. "You did get the photos then," he said, obviously pleased with himself.

"And we figured out that you knew about the no boys allowed rules," you replied, crossing your arms over your chest. "Now stop stalling, hot stuff, you showed off all weekend and now I want a taste."

"As you wish," Andy said, simply.

Then took his sweet time undressing, which you normally appreciated, but your desire had been building for nearly two days. Yes, you had masturbated last night in the shower, but that wasn't the same as being with Andy.

After what seemed like forever, he was naked before you, partially aroused.

You'd planned to play with him a little, but you needed him sooner rather than later. You quickly removed your clothes and then closed the gap between the two of you.

"Remind me to torture you a bit later," you said to him before you pressed your lips against his.

"Will do," he whispered against your lips.

Then he made love to you.

#theycallmebecca #theycallmebeccawrites #Andy Barber #Andy Barber fanfiction #Andy Barber fanfic #Andy Barber fan fiction #Andy Barber x you #Andy Barber x female reader #Andy Barber x y/n #becca writes 18+ drabbles

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brandstifter-sys · 6 months ago

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Webs We Weave

@dukexietyweek 2024 Day 6 - Rockstars + Stuffed Animals

Word Count: 3016 (Ao3)

Rating: T

Characters: Virgil, Remus, Patton, Remy, Andy, Dragon Witch (Millie)

Pairings: Dukexiety, Remdy (Shorts Sleepxiety)

Warnings: ftm!remus, hitch hiking, anxiety, mild threats, sex mention

Remus is an avid fan of Webs We Weave, and his internet crush just so happened to give him to tickets to every show on their latest tour. Naturally, this disaster fanboy is going to make it to all those shows without questioning his friend's connections, even if he has to hitchhike to get there! But hitchhiking can have unexpected consequences!

---

Remus was not just an average fanboy. He was obsessed with his favorite band, their music and seeing them perform. Every show was amazing and he craved the rush of the crowd. So what if he was following the band on tour by any means necessary? He wasn't stalking them, just chasing the sound and the thrill.

His own brother couldn't stop him when he got tickets to every show, not even asking how he afforded them. They were gifts from a friend from Tumblr, and crush if he were being honest. And they were legit! He swore he would bend over any way xxelectric-spider-rainxx wanted him to!

After three nights of musical ecstasy, Remus was perched in a big rig truck, headed for the next city on his list. The driver, a bespectacled man with a heart of gold, was kind enough to offer him a meal on the drive.

“So, kiddo, you said you were going to meet your friend and go to a concert, what group is worth the risk?” the driver, Patton asked, keeping his eyes on the road.

“Have you heard of Webs We Weave?” Remus asked and took a sip of his slushie. He could go on about them if he wanted, from Millie Drake's fire vocals, to Remy Traum’s bass riffs. But he didn't have to.

“Have I ever!” Patton laughed, “My son is in that band!”

“He is?!” Remus gawked. He wasn't digging into their personal lives, but he knew a lot about their back stories, except for Virgil Hawthorne. That beefcake drummer was so mysterious.

“Yuppers!” Patton giggled, “I can't tell you how proud I am of him for making it so far with his friends! He would spend all his free time playing those drums until my ex got a headache!”

“You’re Virgil's dad?” Remus gasped. Now that he thought about it, Patton had a similar smile and build to the drummer, only he was a little bigger in the middle. He could believe it.

“That’s my boy! He's such a sweet kid, sent me a backstage pass good for every show on this tour! I feel bad I won't be able to make any of them, but he knows how much I support him!” Patton said with a sly grin, “If you want it, it's in the glovebox, right next to his old bunny.”

“Really?” Remus gasped and set his drink in the cupholder before he made a mess. He opened the glovebox and saw the pass and an old black bunny toy that was well loved, obviously stitched together with white floss. Its eyes were white X's and its left ear was missing fuzz on the tip.

“Yeah! I'd hate for it to go to waste, and I think he'd like you,” Patton responded, “And if you do take it, can you give him Mr. Fuzzy? He loves that bunny!”

“You trust me not to keep it?” Remus gawked.

“Yeah, you don't seem like the crazed type of fan who would. Plus you need to have faith in people.”

“That’s really idealistic,” Remus said and carefully tucked the pass and bunny into his bag, “But you don't have to worry, I'll get it to him. It's the least I can do for the ride and food!”

“Thanks Remus,” Patton said and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, “Mind if I put on some dad tunes?”

“Classic rock?” Remus grinned, “Only if you let me sing along!”

Patton beamed and turned on the radio. He was happy he decided to pick up this hitchhiker, and happier that he might've found Virgil's newest friend.

---

“Ugh, you have to stop pacing, Virge!” a young man with shaggy brunette hair groaned from where he lounged on the couch.

“I can't help it!” Virgil, a large man with even shaggier black and purple hair, snapped. He was chewing his thumbnail and walking the length of the dressing room. The other two band members were getting coffee, leaving the two most anxious messes to wait.

“You'll run out of energy before we go on. Isn't there something else you can do?” Andy groaned and adjusted his jeans.

“I left Mr. Fuzzy with my dad and running a lap around the building will drain me faster. What else can I do, Andy?”

“I don't know—why are you freaking out?” Andy huffed and crossed his arms, hugging his chest for some security.

“I haven't heard anything from them in days, and their blog is all queued. What if they hate me? What if they're in trouble? What if they're just busy or too excited to go online? What if they show up at this show? I won't be able to recognize them. What if they're a creep? What if I put us all in danger?” Virgil rambled. Andy rolled his eyes.

“You gave them a ticket to every show. They're bound to show up at some point.”

“My dad got tickets to every show and he's never shown up,” Virgil argued and ran a hand through his hair.

“You didn't notice, did you?”

“Notice what?”

“There's been one person at all of the shows so far in the front row. Your Tumblr buddy is probably taking advantage of those tickets.”

“Why didn't you tell me sooner?! I've been shirtless on stage every time!” Virgil yelped and lunged at Andy, grabbing him by the shoulders, eyes bugging out of his skull.

“Dude. We only had three shows, all in the same area. I'm not jumping to conclusions yet,” Andy yelped. Virgil was too strong for his own good.

Virgil immediately let go of him and shrank back. He knew he was overreacting but he couldn't calm down. He flopped on the couch and groaned.

“Why do you care so much? Especially about the shirt thing? You don't know what they look like or their pronouns,” Andy huffed, “Don't tell me—you have a crush.”

Virgil curled into himself and grumbled. He couldn't stop himself from feeling. He was freaking out over a crush like some teenager and he was making a mess of his band.

It was so stupid. He only knew their username, krakendickenpuss, and that they could handle his bluntness and his rants. They actually liked talking to him about monsters, movies, and music. They were the first person in a long time he could connect with, without his mild game getting in the way. They were lewd and flirty but they never crossed any lines, and they were just so adorable!

“Oh god, you do,” Andy gasped and got up. He needed some water and a snack and the vending machine was outside.

“I'll grab a gatorade for you,” Andy said and opened the door.

“Hi!”

Andy yelped and jumped back. He was not expecting a little man to be at the door with his fist raised, especially not one he swore he saw at the last couple of shows. Virgil jumped to his feet and got between Andy and the intruder, ready to fight.

“Oh! Perfect!” the man cheered, “Millie and Remy said you were here!”

“Who are you and how did you get back here?” Virgil snarled, ready to fight. A good scuffle might have been just the thing he needed to calm his nerves.

“I'm Remus,” the man said with a shiver. Virgil assumed it was just evidence this guy was intimidated. Remus was enthralled—what could be hotter than a big strong guy getting protective of his friends? A big strong shirtless guy getting protective of his friends!

“Virge—” Andy muttered, his heart still racing.

“I can handle this,” Virgil said curtly and nudged him towards the couch before his knees gave out.

“I was looking for you since Venomousse got off the stage! I need to give you something! I promise it's not dangerous!” Remus beamed. He was damn cute, and Virgil hated that.

“How did you get backstage?” Virgil pressed and loomed over him menacingly. They didn't sell backstage passes, not even for the press.

“I have a pass!” Remus chirped and held up his lanyard with the pass.

“Where did you get that?” Virgil snapped and grabbed him by the shirt, lifting poor, aroused Remus off the ground.

“Your dad gave it to me! He's a really nice guy! He gave me a ride and I didn't even have to offer any suckies!” Remus said without an inkling of fear. He would have killed to get socked in the jaw by his favorite drummer! He would kill for this man to do so much more than that!

“What?!”

“I know! He's a good guy! He asked me to give you something!” Remus said, “So can you put me down? You're stretching my binder.”

“If you hurt him, I swear I'll—”

“Call him. He should be fine,” Remus cut him off, “My binder won't be if you keep holding me like this. I don't have another one with me! Unless you want to see these lumps—all you have to do is say so!”

Virgil immediately dragged him into the dressing room and dropped him on the couch by Andy. Remus landed with a thud and scrambled to get his gym bag off his back.

Andy watched him dig through his bag when Virgil called his dad. He was pacing again and biting his thumb.

“Heya kiddo!” Andy could hear Patton greeting his son, “Sorry I couldn't make it tonight! I just crossed into the next state!”

“Dad, are you okay?” Virgil gasped.

“I'm not in Oklahoma!” Patton giggled, “But I'm alright. Are you okay? You sound stressed.”

“Did you pick up a hitchhiker?” Virgil asked and bit his lip. He didn't even notice Remus pulling something out of his bag.

“I did, but don't worry, I dropped him off and I'm safe. Actually, he was headed to your concert, so I sent him with something to give you since you probably need it,” Patton said brightly, “His name is Remus, he's short and stocky, has a little mustache. I think he was wearing green shorts and a black tank top.”

“What did you give him?” Virgil demanded, getting even more tense by the second.

“This!” Remus butted in loudly and held up the stuffed bunny for Virgil to see.

Virgil’s jaw dropped. There was no way this Remus guy was holding Mr. Fuzzy.

“Oh it sounds like you found him!” Patton said over the phone. It was hard to miss Remus' voice!

“I gotta go, Kiddo, break a leg tonight!” Patton said after a beat of silence.

“Thanks, Dad,” Virgil choked out and hung up the phone. Virgil hung up and stowed his phone almost robotically.

He stared at Remus for a long moment, trying to make sense of the situation. Andy was uncomfortable with the silence, but Remus seemed to be at ease.

The tension snapped when Virgil snatched the toy from Remus and held it to his chest.

“Tell anyone about this and you're dead,” Virgil growled and rubbed the bunny’s ear between his fingers.

“About what? How you're taller and beefier than the photos let on? That you got aggressive enough to make me cream my pants?” Remus jeered and wiggled his shoulders, “Because only one other person will know what happened when I met you! And they won't believe me anyway!”

“He's having a really anxious moment,” Andy cut in, “He really isn't aggressive. Whoever you plan on telling, mention that part.”

“Who are you telling?” Virgil asked warily as he finally started calming down.

“A friend on Tumblr. They gave me the tickets so I want to tell them all about it when I don't have to watch my phone battery!” Remus beamed.

Virgil's face blanched.

“Your friend gave you tickets, plural?” Andy asked with a smirk, “So we'll see you at other shows?”

“Hell yeah! I'll be at every show! I can't believe they could give me so many tickets!” Remus beamed, “So don't get any ideas about calling me a stalker!”

“Oh god, you plan on hitchhiking to all of them?” Andy gawked and got up. He still needed a snack, and he had to find Remy and Millie.

“Yup! But I'm a tough puppy! I can handle anyone!” Remus beamed. Virgil stared at him like he was insane.

“Geez,” Andy sighed, “I'm hitting the vending machine. Do you want anything?”

“Gatorade or iced tea if they have it,” Remus said and dug into his bag. He could pay for his own drink!

“It's on me,” Andy cut him off and headed for the door. Once Andy was gone, Virgil’s anxiety started creeping over him again. Virgil was going to kill Andy.

“So, uh, your friend on Tumblr gave you tickets?” Virgil muttered, not daring to look at Remus.

“Yeah!! Electric Spider Rain has some crazy connections! When I finally get to meet them I'm totally smooching their breath away! I would've done that even without the tickets,” Remus giggled.

“Krakendickenpuss?” Virgil asked, praying that he didn't just threaten his crush.

Remus squealed and pounced, intending to hug him on the floor. He wrapped his arms and legs around the drummer and rubbed his cheek on Virgil's shoulder.

“I can't believe it's really you!” Remus squealed, “Who would've thought that the person I've been talking to online is actually the sickest drummer in the world!”

“I can't believe you decided to hitchhike around to get to every show without telling me,” Virgil scoffed incredulously.

“You would have tried to stop me!” Remus giggled, “And then I would have never gotten to meet you!”

Virgil set Remus on his feet, only for Remus to hug his waist and nuzzle his chest. Virgil was beet red but gingerly hugged back with one arm. Mr. Fuzzy didn't need to be crushed any further.

“You know I can't let you hitchhike to get to the rest of the shows without worrying,” Virgil said softly.

“But I don't want to miss the rest of the shows! You guys are my favorite band and you gave me all those tickets!” Remus whined, “And I want to spend time with you in person!”

“Then join us on the bus,” a woman said as she entered the room. She had a knowing smirk on her ruby lips and long dark hair. She had two guys trailing her, a twink in sunglasses and Andy.

“Millie, you can't be serious,” Virgil huffed, “What if we get in trouble for kidnapping or worse?”

“My brother knows I'm hitchhiking so you don't have to worry about that!” Remus pipped up, refusing to let go of Virgil.

“I'm serious, we talked about it. I would rather have some mild trouble with the law than him getting hurt,” Millie shrugged, “You would've suggested it too.”

Virgil couldn't blush any harder. Not only was Milie suggesting bringing Remus along, but she and Remy could see Mr. Fuzzy in his arm. There was no way out of this.

“As long as he doesn't knock you up, it's fine,” Remy added and sipped on his iced coffee.

“So it's fine,” Virgil muttered, “Since that's impossible.”

“It's not impossible the other way around!” Remus jeered, “But I'll behave! Even if you're shirtless and sweaty!” To make things worse, he rubbed his face against Virgil's chest.

“Since that's settled, introductions?” Millie hummed and sat down. Andy dragged Remy away from the dressing room, probably to tell him to keep his mouth shut about the stuffed animal.

“I'm Remus! Remus Reyes Cuesta!” the little imp beamed and finally let go of Virgil, “And his internet friend!”

Millie narrowed her eyes at him and studied his face.

“Is your brother Roman?”

“Yup! How did you know?”

“Do you remember Millicent Wieczorek?” she hummed. Remus' face lit up.

“No way! Is that you? You kicked his ass in middle school! He totally deserved it, so I'm not mad! I was so sad when you had to move away! What are the odds we meet again here?”

“Yeah, he can ride with us. He's safe. Just like Mr. Fuzzy,” Millie said to Virgil.

“Uh,” Virgil hesitated. Millie shrugged and grinned at him.

“I still sleep with Barfolomew the cat dragon. I'm not judging you. Remy might, but his boytoy is grilling him. Actually I should make sure they aren't making out in a closet. You two have fun.”

With that she got up and left Remus and Virgil alone. Virgil was absolutely mortified.

“Sit! Sit!” Remus chirped and patted the seat next to him. Virgil reluctantly sat down and let Remus lean on him.

“Thanks for the tickets and the ride. And for showing me your dark side! It's hot!”

“Sorry about that, I was out of line,” Virgil wilted and hugged Mr. Fuzzy. Remus pouted and scooted closer.

“It's okay, Virgil. I'm not hurt, just turned on. Who knew my celebrity crush would be my Internet crush, and who knew he was feral and a sweetheart?”

“Crush?”

“Yup! I won't deny it!” Remus giggled, “But don't think that means I'm coming on to you. I can behave! Even if I'm jealous of that bunny!”

“Why would you be jealous of a toy?” Virgil huffed. He was practically squeezing the life out of it.

“Because you love it, and more importantly, you're hugging it to those bara tiddies!” Remus jeered. He was pleasantly surprised when Virgil wrapped an arm around him.

“I-I like you too,” he said shyly, “But let's not rush into anything.”

“I can work with that!” Remus beamed, “I'm gonna go back out to the pit, and I'll come back here after your set.”

“You can leave the bag, no one will steal anything,” Virgil said and loosened his hold on his bunny.

“Really? Thanks Virgil! You're the best!” Remus beamed and kissed his cheek.

He bopped to his feet and giggled at how Virgil's blush traveled to his shoulders. He waved cheekily and skipped out of the dressing room, letting Virgil follow him with his eyes.

Virgil touched his cheek where Remus kissed him and smiled like an idiot.

That night he performed better than ever before.

#sanders sides #virgil sanders #remus sanders #dukexiety #patton sanders #remy sanders #andy sanders #dragon witch #dukexietyweek2024 #day 6 #bonus prompt: stuffed animals #ftm!remus #sex mention tw #mild threats tw #hitchhiking mention tw #sandyscribed

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mamamittens · 2 months ago

Note

Hi! I'm Andreas, with Koala and Kaku as serial killers. They have a paper bag with white, pop rock covered chocolate oranges. They have jolly ranchers, Swedish fish, malts and fireballs in there! We all share a black rose and hot damn, then chase it with a Jager bomb and brain hemorrhage.

Pick of the Lot (+18)

This ask is part of the Spooktober 2024 Event, for context!

Summary:

Andy had lived on the outskirts of his hometown all his life and would likely die here too. Never quite one for the city, he'd made his bones with a quiet, unassuming existence. Alone. But maybe not anymore. Two of his closest friends, from way back when he frequently raided wild berry brambles with a gap toothed smile, have rolled into town once more. And they claim they're there to stay. Just as promised.

The problem is that Andy doesn't remember any promise--and he better remember quickly. They're quite insistent he keeps up his end of the deal.

(Fae!yandere!Koala/Andy(OC)/Fae!yandere!Kaku)

(ask was changed by request shortly after sending it to Fae partners, I didn't just change it without asking lol)

Warnings: Dubious consent (fae magic bullshit), implied drugging, implied mind break, yandere vibes, anal, praise kink, rough sex, overstimulation, and breeding kink.

Word Count: 8,135

There was a house behind Andy’s.

It’s a little odd, if Andy was being honest. But odd like thinking he had placed the remote on the cushion next to they when it was, instead, in the floor, kind of odd. Something strange just to the left of normalcy yet familiar. Damn near mundane.

He could have sworn there was just woods back there—and to be honest there still was. The trees—having recovered from the forest fire some years past—practically eating the cozy two story house painted a dark, weathered green. It almost blended with the woods themselves, the grass tickling up the steps with moss and mushrooms flourishing at its feet. There was no real path up to what could only be the back porch. Just a vast stretch of yard until it hit the covered steps.

When the wind blew across the space between them, the tips of little white mushroom peaked in a meandering line. A small gap perfectly between their own back door and theirs.

Whoever they were.

Andy scrunched their nose, ignoring the way it made their scars itch.

It was weird.

The longer he stared the more their mind warred with itself.

There should not be a house there.

But there was always a house there.

He remembers hazily getting a scar on their knee tripping up those back steps in their excitement as a little boy. Crying as someone their age hushed them with an amused chuckle. In fact, Andy looked down and pulled up their pajama bottom, scanning their skin for the soft mark.

And there it was.

An odd, curving mark just below their kneecap.

Unsure what to make of this, Andy turned away and meandered back to their office. Hopeful that whatever strange confusion he was experiencing would resolve itself before he called for an ambulance. Back to their research project he was being paid good money for with all the ear markings of a ridiculously melodramatic wrap up.

Andy got out of the house plenty, but never really with other people. So, the most interesting part of their day usually consisted of whatever odd thing he picked up from the forest floor. Usually, weird sticks or shed animal horns. Sometimes pretty rocks. They all made good craft projects so he kept doing it. Sometimes he went into town to get stuff and people watched a little. It wasn’t much, but he found a nice living with it all the same. Occasionally he’d be called in to help find a lost kid—which he was weirdly good at and attributed to all their time spent in the forests back when he was a kid themself and now.

So, to have something so odd happen in their literal back yard was wild. Even worse was the dizzying sensation going through their head.

He knew the house.

But he hadn’t seen it there before in their life.

But he really, really had.

It made them nauseous. Forcing them to lean their head against the wall and close their eyes, chilled plaster sticking to their skin as he breathed in deep.

Memories flickered in their head. Faintly, at first, and then all at once.

A lifetime ago.

Their knees shook with the effort of pinning their face to the wall instead of the floor. Muscles trembling as a sickening tidal wave washed across their body. Heat pricking their skin and eyes as he gasped for air, the once refreshing coolness now like ice in their lungs. Walls and floors and walls and ceiling twisting together. The smack of hardwood against their face an echo of a memory.

Memory…

Andy remembered.

That was their best friends’ house and it had always been there.

Knock—KNOCK KNOCK!

Andy woke with a start, moaning in pain as it burned through their veins. A headache blooming with fury between their eyes. Spine protesting at the twisted angle he’d fallen asleep in—in the floor? Andy sputtered nonsensical sounds as he got to their knees, attempting to not throw up, certain that it would do little to help their predicament.

There was another series of barely polite knocks on the door, reminding Andy of what woke them up.

Knock-knock.

Wincing, he stood, bracing themself against the wall. With herculean effort and more colorful swears than sense, Andy managed to reach the front door.

Knock-Knock.

He froze, confused. The sound hadn’t come from the door in front of them. Not even a little bit.

With a whine that was barely managing to not be a plea for mercy, Andy turned towards the back door. Past their entryway, living room, dining room, and part of their kitchen. Dark shadows dancing in the twilight against the glass window, porch light left off despite being automatic.

Knock-knock!

The sadistically cheerful sound confirmed their fears and Andy reluctantly passed the couch—which sounded heavenly to pass out on right now—to answer the back door. It took some swaying and curses, but most of the terrible pain and nausea had passed by that point. Leaving them weak and sweating.

Andy pushed aside the deadbolt and unlocked the door, swinging it open gracelessly to greet their strange visitors.

The stranger’s figures were bathed in the soft light of their kitchen, backlit by the gentle violet light of the setting sun. One tall and one short. A man and a woman.

They looked familiar, which curiously made them nauseous again.

“H-Hello?” Andy whispered through a freshly pounding headache.

The man was tall and lean like a thin tree, face pleasantly smiling down at Andy. Long nose strangely angular but it suited him and his friendly demeanor. The man was dressed casually in unbranded sweats and hoodie a dark green color, blond hair pulled back under a baseball cap with mushrooms embroidered along the crown. His dark eyes gazed down at Andy with a depth that left them feeling as though he as drowning. A hundred different thoughts swimming in those eyes and none of which Andy could comprehend.

The woman was a fair bit shorter than her companion, but hardly was in danger of disappearing in his shadow. Vivid orange hair with mushroom clips keeping it out of her deep blue eyes and an expectant look about her. A cute orange overall dress over a brown sweater, vines and mushrooms dancing along the frilly hem. Her smile was sharp and piercing. Though she was pretty cute, she looked like someone prone to biting rather than kissing—somehow. Fiendish and mischievous.

Somehow, he knew it was the truth. Though he also somehow knew the opposite wasn’t strictly true for her companion.

“Hey, Andy. Been a while, huh?” The man spoke cheerfully despite Andy’s obvious confusion. “We finally moved back in!”

Andy’s confusion fell as their mind raced, eyes falling between the two to the house… The windows bright with inhuman light that pierced the dark forest like unblinking eyes.

The house that had not been there before always been waiting.

“Oh… Kaku? Koala? Is that you?” Andy felt their lips tremble around their names in mild alarm, not consciously deciding to speak at all but unable to stop.

The two grinned at their words and Andy felt water swirl between their ears.

He came to much more comfortably than he did before. Head braced on someone’s soft lap and a cold rag over their forehead, just barely covering their eyes.

“…hmmm?” he whimpered, struggling to sit up. Someone’s hand braced on their shoulder, keeping them vertical.

“Easy, Andy! You must have been overworking yourself again!” A woman chided them softly. “Honestly, we move away for a while and you really let yourself go!”

“Yeah, Andy. We really worried about you for a moment there!” A man huffed, steady hands carefully pulling them up. The rag fell and Andy blinked, realizing he was in their living room.

The woman sat on the couch beside them as a familiar man kneeled with a cup of tea.

“Kaku made you tea—it should help you feel better.” She spoke firmly, helping Andy cradle the cup of tea. He drank it without thinking and the relief was instant. It tasted warm and like honey, the sweetness sticking to their throat as it swept down to their belly.

“There we go—feel better yet, Andy?” Kaku asked with a warm smile.

“Y-Yeah… I…” Andy frowned, trying to remember what had made them feel like shit before. What terrible timing—just as their best friends moved back into town! “I don’t know what came over me.” He finally huffed, taking another sip.

“We can tell! Must be one of those colds going round these days. Have you been getting enough sleep? Eating right?” Koala demanded with a cute frown. Andy smiled sheepishly.

“W-Well, I thought I was! Guess not… what made you guys move back after…?” Andy trailed off, a frown growing.

After what?

Why did they move away again?

Gentle hands tapped theirs, brushing the teacup higher to remind them of it. Andy reflexively smiled and took another sip. He admired the delicate blades of grass and mushrooms that danced along the rim. Made the cup very whimsical and pleasing in the light. Each mushroom colorful and different from the next, almost fantastical though he suspected they were real.

“We really missed you, Andy. I’m glad you came back.” Kaku cheered with a wide grin. Andy saw it falter as Koala shot him a dirty look. “Anyway! Did you miss us?” he asked suddenly with a mischievous look.

Andy’s headache bloomed faintly but another sip drowned it out.

“I… yeah. Every day. You’re my best friends, you know.” Andy huffed, a little offended by the implication that he wouldn’t miss them.

“We missed you too, Andy!” Kaku reassured them. “You should come over—like the good old days!”

Andy frowned for a moment, trying to remember what the inside of their house looked like.

He’d never actually gone in before, had he?

No. Andy knew he hadn’t…

Actually, now that he thought about it, wasn’t the house further back before too? Or was it just time that made the distance seem so big?

It had to be. Obviously.

It had always been there, after all. Andy just ignored it before now because it hurt to think of the empty house without their best friends in it.

The explanation settled in their chest oddly but soothed them, nonetheless.

“S-Sure… maybe when I feel better. I’d hate to throw up on your carpet.” Andy excused, ignoring the strangely anxious feeling squirming in their gut at the thought of going inside their house.

It was just the newness of it, that’s all. New situations always made Andy feel a little anxious at first.

Koala’s smile faltered a little bit as she huffed.

“What, think we’d be bad hosts, Andy? You don’t need to worry about being sick with us—we’ll take good care of you, like we promised!” Koala grinned with narrowed eyes, her words vaguely threatening.

“Promised?” Andy mused, wrinkling their nose in thought.

“Yeah, that promise we made—that you made when we were kids!” Kaku agreed, his eyes also a little narrowed like he was searching for something from Andy.

“Sorry guys, I don’t really remember a promise. It was a long time ago though… Hmm… kids, huh? Was it to be friends forever or something like that?” Andy asked, taking another sip of their tea. He looked out the window, realizing it was night time now, the distant street lamp at the end of their driveway flickering in the dark. Moths crowding the pale gold light, the full moon high above the tree line. Thinking on it, he wondered how he missed them moving in. What with their house being right behind Andy’s. He must have been sick for a long time, to have missed the moving trucks.

But there wasn’t a driveway for their house, was there?

Andy took a contemplative sip of tea and the thought drifted away, troubling them no longer.

Kaku chuckled, falling onto the seat next to Andy. Arm tossed carelessly over Andy’s shoulders.

“Ah, it was so cute! You swore it, you know—that promise! Parents were pretty pissed though—” Koala hissed something sharp and low, interrupting Kaku’s rambling as he jumped, his smile now apologetic. “But you should come over! We’ll make dinner and catch up! It’s been a long time, after all!”

“Maybe la—”

Andy’s phone rang, the ringtone obnoxiously loud from the hallway. He jumped up, setting down the teacup—actually, he didn’t own teacups, so where…?—and raced to answer their phone with mild difficulty.

It was on the floor, having been forgotten there in their earlier fall.

“Andy speaking!” he huffed somewhat breathlessly.

“Oh—hi! I’ve been calling you for ages now! Did you get the documents I asked for? Got a deadline coming up and it’s taking longer than normal—you said they should be easy to find?” A woman asked curiously, her tone somewhat worried.

“Oh—OH! Yeah, they are—I was just looking for anything else I might have missed before I got sick. I’ll look over everything and send it to you here in a bit. Maybe after eating some food? But—yeah, I’ll have them soon—sorry about the wait!” Andy sputtered, a little flustered.

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear about that! And as long as it’s before… hmm, let’s say before Friday you should be good!” She responded kindly.

“That’s about… two days? Oh, that’s plenty of time. Thank you, I’ll get right on it!” Andy promised before hanging up with a placid goodbye. “Sorry about that, guys—work call--?” Andy hobbled back to the living room to find it empty.

Lone teacup left on the table the only indication anyone had been there save a delicately handwritten note.

He picked it up and noted it felt like parchment.

“Sorry we had to leave so abruptly, dear heart. Our time was cut a little shorter than expected and we had to return. Dinner tomorrow night? Yours, as promised, Kaku and Koala~” Andy read out.

“…That promise again.” Andy huffed, trying to remember what he had promised.

It was so long ago, their memories of childhood fuzzy after that fire.

He paused.

A fire?

Yeah… there was a fire, wasn’t there? Andy glanced down at the remains of their tea. The dark liquid gleaming gold in the light. Flecks of something swirling inside almost hypnotizing them.

Andy felt the headache begin to return but opted to take ibuprofen instead, pouring out the last of the tea. It was probably ice cold anyway.

The house behind Andy’s a dark, looming shadow. Mushrooms forming a tight line that curved into the woods around the house, their tops silver in the clouded moonlight.

Andy felt a tight stab of some complicated emotion in their chest. Something like deep, childish fear. Like he needed to run as fast and far as he could.

The house seemed closer.

Andy grabbed their walking cane and a snack before retreating to their office to finish up work.

Tying up this last job before sleep sounded like a good idea—better than lingering on why he felt so… afraid of his best friends’ house.

Andy had bought their childhood home after it had been left abandoned for years—ever since they’d moved away actually. Their parents oddly against the purchase.

Andy wondered if Koala and Kaku’s parents had simply given it to them—actually, Andy realized he couldn’t remember meeting their parents before. Were they… did they even have the same parents? He didn’t know. They never claimed to be siblings, now that he thought about it. Or even cousins.

Not once.

It was always just them.

Waiting on the back porch.

Asking Andy to come inside and play.

Sleep was barely an escape from their troubled thoughts.

The smell of fresh wood and blood sinking into their nose. Flashes of days in the sun, running around with their best friends.

“You have such an active imagination!” Andy’s mom commented with a laugh as she washed dishes. “What’d you play today, baby?”

“Kaku and Koala played tag—but they’re cheaters and kept going into their house! You said I’m not allowed inside someone’s house until you meet their parents—they know that!” Andy pouted, poking at the bandage on their knee. “Skinned my knee on their porch step but Kaku said this would help.” Andy showed off the bandage. Their mom paused, putting aside the plate she had been washing and drying off her hands before looking at it.

“… baby, where did you get honey? Who…?”

“Kaku, momma! I told you—they live back there, remember? He got it from inside his house when I wouldn’t go it—just like you told me not to!” Andy sighed, a little frustrated at their mom’s poor memory. She looked troubled as she stood and looked out the back door. “Right there, mom! How’d you forget?”

“…have those mushrooms been there this whole time?” Andy heard her mumble before she turned towards them. “Baby, what house?” He huffed and with all the grace in their knobby-kneed body, stomped over and pointed just past the tree line.

“Right there! Momma, do you need glasses? They got the lights on and everything!” Andy looked up from the faint figure of their best friends waving at him to find her looking in horror. “Momma?”

“Baby, there’s never been a house—”

Andy woke covered in sweat and gagging. Reaching instinctively towards the waste basket by the bed as they threw up. It was thick and burning down their throat. Unnaturally dark, though not the color of blood thankfully.

No, it was dark and thick like honey but tasted rancid.

It took three tries of brushing their teeth to get rid of the taste. Afterwards, Andy felt ravenous but oddly reluctant to eat anything. Nothing looked good. But it wasn’t even midday, so Andy shoved down half a sleeve of saltine crackers with cheese and called it good enough to shower without the risk of passing out.

Showering with hot water felt like a blessing. Muscles oddly overworked everywhere suddenly relaxing with such force he nearly collapsed. He felt a little pathetic, but sitting while washing their hair was nearly a religious experience. Andy had never felt so clean, though it definitely took far longer than normal to pull off.

Andy ended up putting on sweats and calling it a day, secure in the knowledge they’d sent off the documents before going to bed and could now catnap on the couch. Which they did and fuck was it damn near magical. The odd sickness leaving their body with every passing hour.

In the hazy blanket of sleep, Andy’s mind swirled around the house behind theirs.

It had been there. At least for Andy… but his mom hadn’t seen it before, had she? Their parents never commented on it’s odd closeness before. Or the kids he played with that lived there. Andy knew that for certain. The particulars were blurred though. And it took until nearly sunset for Andy to remember that there had been a fire back there.

He couldn’t remember it well, but the woods had definitely been set ablaze. He could remember their mother’s desperate hold onto them as the fire grew. Tugging them away as he cried. Her words muddled but firm.

“—not safe—they won’t take my baby!”

They moved after that, didn’t they?

Andy sighed, relaxing into the soft cushions.

Knock-knock!

Andy startled, shaken abruptly from their thoughts at the familiar knock. Sighing, he stood up and made their way to the back door.

Kaku and Koala were there again, dressed identically to the day before.

“Hey guys, forgot you were coming over—let me throw a shirt on or something.” Andy laughed, stepping aside to let them in. They walked in with pleased smiles, Kaku noticing the teacup sitting out to dry.

“Oh, did you finish your tea, by the way?” Kaku asked. Andy shook their head.

“No, it was pretty cold by the time I got off the phone and you were both gone. I didn’t even hear you leave—sorry about that. Washed it before bed though!” Andy smiled, their expression faltering under the combined displeasure Kaku and Koala were displaying. “Something wrong?”

Kaku recovered first.

“No! Of course not, thanks for washing it. We wanted to remind you about dinner.” Kaku laughed, brushing his hand over Koala’s shoulder with a sharp look. “How about we let you get dressed and you bring it over when you’re ready!” he suggested pleasantly.

Andy pursed their lips.

They were quite hungry. But would hate to go over only to find out that nothing they were serving seemed appetizing.

“I don’t know, Kaku. Got sick when I woke up and nothing’s caught my fancy all day.” Andy confessed sheepishly. Koala instantly looking worried.

“You haven’t eaten all day?” She asked softly, her leftover frustration bleeding out into concern.

“Half a sleeve of crackers and cheese, but that’s it. Not sure I could keep anything down right now—I’m sorry. I know you two were really looking forward to dinner.” Andy apologized as gently as he could.

Koala huffed.

“Good thing we made soup! Goes down easy and we even have heavier sides if you think you can handle it!” Koala protested, but Andy shook their head. “Ugh! Fine! How about you return the teacup and, if dinner smells amazing—which it will!—you join us! Like. You. Promised!” she hissed at the end, her eyes dark pools of frustration.

Andy took an alarmed step back and her face instantly shifted into a petulant frown, Kaku’s hand firm on her shoulder with a dark look. But he also changed his expression upon seeing the alarm on Andy’s face.

“She’s just excited, dear. Ignore her. Come on over when you’re ready with the teacup and we can take it from there!” Kaku sighed.

“Why not take it with you--?” Andy asked but they retreated from the kitchen hastily, glancing back with longing in their eyes. Leaving Andy half dressed in their kitchen with a teacup he—apparently—needed to return themselves.

Left feeling a little… oddly out of the loop, Andy decided to do as they were asked. Changing into more appropriate clothes, a warm, red sweater he’d been endlessly fond of for over a year now, and worn jeans. Grabbing their walking cane just in case of unexpected holes in the yard and carefully cradling the teacup in the other hand.

Still, Andy couldn’t help but pause at the end of their porch. Anxiety swirling in their guts with increasing intensity.

Something was wrong. He just… didn’t know what it was.

Koala and Kaku’s house was gently illuminated, the back porch cast in a strange, silvery light that caught the line of mushrooms between their houses. The moon clouded high above the forest. It occurred to Andy then how strange it was that he couldn’t see into their house. Their windows always dark as pitch or glowing with light. Vague shadows dancing in a window here or there, but otherwise nothing to identify what was happening inside. And, curiously, it looked identical to their own house—now that he thought about it.

A literal dark reflection.

Perhaps he hadn’t thought about it before then because he had assumed they were built around the same time. Houses build in groups were like that, sometimes. Nearly identical in build save the outer façade. But as he carefully made their way down the back steps, he noticed that the other house even had latticework along the ground, overgrown as the grass and mushrooms were. Broken in exactly the same place as their own, where a stray dog had broken in during the winter freeze for shelter.

It was confusing and somewhat dizzying as Andy made their way across the backyard. Pausing just before the line of mushrooms, eyeing the small gap between the thick clusters.

Like a little doorway.

The thought caught in their head. Stuck and wouldn’t budge for anything. That swell of fear returning with a vengeance.

Suddenly, Andy wanted to turn around and never look back.

Sell their old childhood home without even bothering to pack.

It felt like it Andy walked through the mushrooms, he’d never return from them again.

They shifted back uncertainly. Unsure where this depth of conviction came from, their breath heavy in the chilled air.

“Hey! Are you going to stand there all night or come in?” Koala barked from the now open doorway, gold light spilling out from behind her. Instinctively, Andy moved.

If their cane hadn’t been braced into the earth behind them, they would have moved backwards. Away from the mushrooms. But it had been.

And Andy stepped forward, their words sputtering into nothing as they passed the threshold.

It was like a wave of warmth had swept over them. The chill of the air no longer threatening as a smile formed on their lips unbidden.

“I… Sorry, Koala, got… lost in thought.” Andy struggled to excuse themselves, shaking their head and walking up to the back porch. The smell of fresh, hot dinner wafting over them. It smelled like damn good soup and bread. Wasn’t certain what kind though, perhaps if he got closer? Their stomach rumbling with interest as they finally made it up the steps with a smile. “Smells good. What kind of soup is it?” he asked with genuine interest.

Koala’s smile was bright and sharp.

“Chicken and fresh rolls with salad!”

Andy loved chicken soup!

“Are you joining us, then, Andy? Think you can stomach it tonight?” Kaku inquired, poking his head from behind the door with a mischievous smile. Koala shot him a dirty look. “He has to come in eventually, Koala. Relax.”

Faintly, that well of fear drifted up again at the strangely insistent reminder about going inside. It felt strange. Like… it was a step he couldn’t take back but also… too late?

“I…” Andy frowned, confused about that incredibly dull stab of fear in their chest. The food smelled good. The company so welcoming. So what was the holdup? Soft hands cradled his wrists, Koala’s face peering up at their own with an unusual intensity.

Eyes wide and haunting, threatening to swallow him hole as she called out in a lifeless voice.

“Aren’t you going to come in? It’s raining so hard.” She said, the words tumbling into Andy’s ears with a strange, echoing quality to it.

Denial was quick to spring to their lips, but before they could say anything to the contrary, there was a heavy pounding of rain onto the porch. They looked back, startled. Finding a thick sheet of rain pouring down so hard he couldn’t see anything beyond the wooden steps. Just a wall of rain so fierce Andy was certain they wouldn’t be able to walk in it at all.

It still smelled like chicken soup, though. Not a speck of rain despite the deluge just behind them. Andy heard Kaku click his tongue as Koala tugged him forward gently.

And Andy followed her into the doorway. Light blinding as he stepped inside, still so confused.

The door slammed shut the moment he passed the threshold. Darkness instantly falling over them in an icy wave that made their bones ache.

Andy was left standing, leaning on their cane with a fearful cry of alarm before soft hands cupped his face.

“Oops! Sorry, dear!” Kaku’s voice washed over him. “Someone got a little too excited!” between one blink and the next, the light returned.

Normal this time. Cozy without being blinding. Illuminating a space that was strangely dizzying to behold at first. Blearily, Andy was—for some reason—relieved it looked nothing like their own home. The hallway long and covered in quaint forested wallpaper. Andy swore that the grass moved and the trees swayed, but their attention was forcefully taken by Kaku patting their cheek.

“There we are!” Kaku said cheekily. “Sorry about all that. Should have finished your tea!” he chirped before pulling Andy down the hallway.

A hallway… Andy thought it was strange to have such a long hallway to the back door. And it seemed so much bigger than the house should have to begin with. A glance behind them showing it was cast in darkness. The shadows of leaves dancing in the space behind them. Something Andy reluctantly dismissed as a hallucination of some kind.

“Took you long enough! Come on, sit! Sit! It’s time to eat!” Koala’s voice called from a doorway ahead of them. Light spilling into the hall like a beacon. Kaku plucked the teacup out of Andy’s hand and ushered them forward.

“I’ll get you more tea.”

“That’s alright—” Andy protested but Kaku clicked his tongue with a chiding look.

“And leave you without anything to drink?” he asked.

The dining room was massive, the table inside almost comedically small for the space. Just big enough for three around the round, dark wood carved intricately with leaves and mushrooms. Matching chairs with plush seats in dark green. The chandelier above them a soft, curling bell shape with no clear point of light. Crystals hanging from the edges like dewdrops. Kaku quickly ducked out of the doorway on the far wall with a pot of tea that matched the now filled teacup.

It was clear upon closer inspection that it was part of a set. All the dishware filled with cute mushrooms and brushed leaves along the rim. Even the silverware engraved with the design. Bowls filled with amber colored soup and tantalizing bits of chicken and vegetables. Side dishes as promised displayed on their own large platters. Portions already dolled out. Thick, fabric napkins folded to the side underneath the silverware.

It was incredibly fancy and inviting as the chair was pulled out for Andy.

“You didn’t need to do all this.” Andy replied weakly. “I’d have been happy with a microwave pizza.” He laughed. The two chuckled but shook their heads.

“No, no! For our first meal together? Never!” Koala chuckled, taking a seat alongside Kaku. “Eat up—you’ll need your strength!” she tittered.

Rather than question the odd statement, Andy took a bite of their soup.

It was perfect. Juicy and savory, cooked to perfection and nearly falling apart on their fork. Unlike earlier protests, it went down like a dream. The same way the bread and salad did with small sips of the tea Kaku had brought out.

“So, how have you been?” Andy asked curiously, biting into a bread roll with a honey butter glaze on top. They were eating at a sedate pace, likely used to such luxurious fare.

“Alright. Missed you terribly though.” Koala sighed. “To think, we could have been like this all this time—if it hadn’t of been for that fire.” She sneered, her lovely expression twisting abruptly. It was alarming—but more alarming was the fact that Kaku made the same expression. Not even apologizing or chiding Koala for making such a frightening face.

“Your mom was sharp once she realized what was happening. If she hadn’t been looking out for you—well, we’re still furious, but if someone was threatening you a little arson would be the least of what we’d do.” Kaku huffed. Andy paused, a question forming in their throat. “Drink your tea, dear. It’s easier that way.”

“E-Easier? The fire… that was my mom?” Andy questioned. Kaku and Koala shared a look.

“Well, we did bring it up. And before he finished the tea, too.” Koala shrugged. “So yes. Your mom started the fire. Distracted us enough for her to take you away. But you’d already promised by then, so this? Was going to happen eventually.” Koala sniffed.

Andy felt the room shift. The sound of leaves rattling together overwhelming—but he was inside, wasn’t he?

“Hey.” Andy looked at Kaku’s gentle expression. The man’s hand pushing theirs to the teacup. “What’d I say? Drink your tea, dear.”

“…what’s in the tea?” he whispered. Kaku’s smile thinned, eyes narrowing to slits as the lights flickered. “P-Please, I just… I’m scared and I don’t know why.” Andy begged softly.

Kaku and Koala’s expressions softened. The two relaxing and breathing out a sigh in sync.

“Magic. Magic and blood, dear.” Kaku informed them softly. “Traveling to our realm is hard on mortals. So this is… think of it as… easing the way? All those scary, frightening things you keep seeing out of the corner of your eye—it all gets washed away. Keeps you… happy, I suppose. We don’t want you screaming and crying as we drag you under.” Kaku explained finally. Andy looked at the teacup in horror.

“D-Drag me under?” Andy breathed out, heart thundering as he realized he could see things in the edges of his view.

“No—no no! None of that, Andy, baby!” Koala broke through their thoughts as she rushed over to their side, lifting up the cup. “You can’t go back—the way through is forward. I know drinking blood is a little gross for you, but it’s ours. Just like you are. You swore with your own blood, baby. Ever since then, it was only a matter of time.” Koala spoke softly, forcing Andy’s hand to cup the teacup and lift it to their lips.

“Drink, Andreas.” Kaku ordered, Andy’s body moving without thought.

Instantly, he relaxed, their breathing and heartbeat evening out. Alarm distant and muffled as he looked to Kaku for answers. Koala’s fingers brushing away their tears softly.

“You gave us your name, baby.” Kaku smiled softly, almost indulgently. “Names have a lot of power. Now, don’t you feel better, Andy?” he nodded, head growing fuzzy.

“Stop fighting it and drink, idiot.” Koala huffed, tapping their wrist.

“I-It’s not going to hurt me—right?” Andy asked softly, desperate to believe their best friends had only good intentions. “W-Why are you… taking me?”

Kaku sighed sadly, shoulders falling as he smiled softly.

“We’ve never hurt you. And we’re not really taking you, if you came willingly, right?” Kaku asked teasingly. “You promised forever.” He spoke into the room with a weight that suffocated Andy.

Dizzy with fear and confusion, Andy finished the cup of tea. The moment he choked down the last dreg, the weight lifted.

“W-What do you even do with forever?” Andy mused, a little lightheaded and lost in the moment. Koala chuckled, kissing his hair.

“Whatever you want!” She sang with elation. “You grew up so well, Andy! I think it’s time for another round of tag, don’t you?” she teased with narrowed eyes.

Kaku choked on a laugh.

“That’s mean, Koala. You know he can’t leave.” Kaku chided, giving Andy a meaningful look. “Do you still want to leave, Andy?”

Andy faltered, uncertain of how to answer.

“I… feel like I should but…” Andy swallowed hard. “I really can’t?” Andy asked softly. Kaku’s smile grew sharp.

“Well, maybe if you find the door you could make it out.” Kaku mused playfully. “We’ll even give you a head start. Find the front door and leave the circle… then we’ll let you go.”

“…If I don’t?” Andy asked softly, aware suddenly the table was empty. He had been eating something, right?

Koala laughed.

“Then you stay! We get to keep you! One last game to decide—since you apparently forgot everything. Don’t say we don’t play fair, Andy!” Koala jeered cheekily.

“But you guys cheated all the time!” Andy protested without thinking, but rather than be pissed, it merely sent Koala into a fit of giggles.

“So you won’t play the game, Andy? You’ll just… accept it?” Kaku asked, hands clasped together over his lips but failing to hide his smile.

Andy huffed.

“Fine! I’ll play—even though I know you’ll cheat!” He responded with a whine.

“It’s not impossible for you to win, Andy. You just need to think.” Koala hinted before the lights went out.

The darkness held for several moments before flickering back on. The room empty of table and occupants. Leaving Andy sitting alone on a chair. Not even their walking cane by their side—though he suspected that they weren’t so cruel that he’d need it to leave.

“Better start looking, Andy. Before we start looking for you.” Kaku’s voice called out from all around them.

Andy huffed, shuffling out of the room with a wary eye for any tricks.

The hallway out of the room was curiously well illuminated, but seemed infinitely long. Remembering the direction he came in, Andy almost took that side but hesitated.

Obviously, it wasn’t going to be that simple. It didn’t take very long to reach the dining room on the way in—so there’s no way they’d be so teasing about it if it was the same going out. Still, Andy hurried along, huffing as he noticed the far doorway never got any closer.

Certain they were fucking with him, Andy opened a random door only to find an identical hallway stretching out past where his eyes could make sense of it.

He paused, trying to think.

They wouldn’t lie to him outright. So there had to be a real way to leave.

Andy looked around, examining the walls again.

It was a strangely lively scene of the forest, though simplified for the cute wallpaper. Varying hues of greens dotted with colorful mushrooms along the bottom between blades of grass. Branches swaying above with leaves dripping down towards the floor. But it wasn’t entirely simplified. There was a soft rim light of silver along one side.

Moonlight.

Andy was in the forest… sort of. And the moon was on the opposite side of their own house to Kaku and Koala’s.

“Time’s almost up~” Koala cackled from somewhere nearby.

Andy hurried, goal now in sight as he followed the subtle signs of moonlight along the wallpaper, pausing as it encased the edges of the plant life entirely around a door. Opening it, he found another hallway, but the wallpaper seemed softer. The light breaking through in beams. And Andy took that as their cue to go faster. The end of the hallway actually getting closer.

“Ready or not~! Here we come!” Kaku called out startlingly loud as Andy nearly screamed, trying their best to run full tilt down the hallway. He nearly slammed into the door, opening it with a relieved sigh to find a clear view to their house. He stepped out into the crisp air with urgency, eager to feel the dry grass under their feet as they cleared the steps.

Only for strong arms to loop around their chest and heave up.

“Whoop! Almost, baby!” Kaku laughed as Andy let out a startled screech.

“I-I made it out!” He protested, feeling Kaku’s breath on their neck.

“Mmmm, not quite~! Had to leave the circle to win!” Kaku teased, hauling Andy back into the house, the door slamming shut. Kaku pinned Andy to the door with his body, pressing his lips into Andy’s neck. “Oh, you are such a good player, Andy~! I was afraid it was just because we were so young—but no! You’re still so clever!” Kaku praised them.

“And you’re still a cheater!” Andy huffed, squirming against the door as Kaku slipped his hands under Andy’s sweater. Hot palms pressed against their ribs.

“You’re just grumpy we won!” Kaku laughed, rubbing up Andy’s chest. “Now for the prize!”

“H-Hey! I-I thought I was just stuck here!” Andy huffed, a whine slipping into their voice as Kaku’s hands drifted down to their pants. Teasing under the band in firm strokes. “N-Not whatever this is!”

Kaku laughed again, much deeper this time.

“You didn’t think we’d play tag forever, did you?” Kaku asked. “No~ The games we play grow up with us, Andy! And I’ve been looking forward to this game for years!” Kaku cooed, slipping his hand into Andy’s underwear, cupping their cock.

Andy let slip a startled moan, their hands curling against the wood door uselessly.

“N-Not a game, Kaku!” Andy protested hoarsely, only for Kaku to laugh, palm stroking over their cock. Teasing them to full arousal.

“Oh? But I’m having so much fun!” Kaku sighed, pressing his palm harder against Andy’s cock, kissing their throat as they moaned weakly. “And I think you are too!” Kaku pulled Andy’s hips away from the door, prying their pants down to keep harshly stroking their cock. Grinding against Andy’s ass, making them bounce into the firm grip around their cock.

“K-Kaku!” Andy protested.

“Really, at the door, Kaku?” Koala called out dryly. Andy looked back with tears in their eyes and her expression fell open into surprise. “Well! If it’s like that—here, this should be better.” Koala smirked, reaching out and opening a door to her side. Kaku sighed, roughly picking Andy up and hauling them away from their only means of escape wearing only their sweater.

The room Koala had opened up was a bedroom with a lush interior. Fancy and entirely in dark wood and greens. Mushroom décor dotting the room in cute touches.

Andy was shoved onto the bed gracelessly, pushed onto their back and stripped of their sweater by Koala. She laughed at his flustered state and slipped her panties off, throwing herself onto their lap.

Andy, horribly flustered, grabbed her hips and tried to lift her off. But she threw down her weight and ground her wet pussy against their cock. Grinding into it hard enough that she could remove their hands with ease and pin them to the bed with it. Rolling her cunt against them eagerly. Andy felt Kaku’s hands under their thighs, parting their legs and teasing the slick that gathered onto their cock lower.

“There we are, what a cute face~” Kaku purred. “We’ve been wanting to ride you for so long.” He sighed, slipping his fingers into Andy.

He gasped, arching up into Koala’s pussy, making her moan in shock. Her hips jolting forward to drown the tip in hot cream.

“O-Oh—feels that good, huh?” Koala sighed. “You have no idea what kind of face you’re making. Never want to leave now, do you?”

“Of course, they don’t. Why would they when it feels this good to stay?” Kaku huffed, reaching down to raise up Andy’s hips. “Together?”

“Together.” Koala confirmed, raising her hips up as a firm hand lifted Andy’s cock up. Something firm and cool pressing between his cheeks.

Andy couldn’t speak as they slid into Andy at the same time. Koala’s pussy so hot and tight around them but Kaku’s thick cock shockingly cool. The conflicting feelings sending Andy reeling as he threw their head back with a lewd moan.

“W-Wait~ oOoooh!” Andy whined, shaking as their cock throbbed inside Koala’s pussy, hips jerking with no clear relief from the pleasure. Up into Koala or down onto Kaku’s cock, he had no means of escaping them. Koala holding his hands with a frighteningly tight grasp.

“Oh, poor baby~ Feels so good with us, doesn’t it?” Koala asked softly, grinding onto their cock and forcing Andy to ride Kaku with shuddering jerks. “This is what you were running from, can you believe it? Taking us so well, you feel so good, Andy.”

Kaku huffed, lifting up Andy’s ass a little more to fuck them harder.

“S-So fucking good—Hnnngh~! So tight, you’re close, aren’t you? Gonna cum in her, baby? OH! S-Shit that was tight—” Kaku swore, slamming his cock in hard enough for his balls to smack against Andy’s ass. He leaned over Koala’s shoulder with a wide grin, face red as he ground into Andy. “Y-You like that? W-What’s got you all wound up, baby? Want to fill her up? Don’t bother trying to lie when I’m so deep in your cute ass, baby~” Kaku pressed a cheeky grin into Koala’s shoulder as she gave Andy an assessing look.

“I can feel you too, you know. H-How much you like the thought of it.” Koala sighed, riding Andy’s cock harder. “C’mon, baby. T-Talk to us—you want to cum inside me, don’t you?”

“Y-Yeah—oooh, K-Koala—I do! L-Let me, let me b-br…” Andy whined, trailing off as their face grew hot, burying it into the bedding beside them.

“Oh?” Koala and Kaku called out in unison.

“What a dirty boy~” Kaku laughed. “You want to breed her? Like the thought of that, huh? What about me, baby? Think I could breed you too—ooooh!” Kaku moaned, laughing as Andy clenched hard onto his cock.

“I think he does want you to, Kaku.” Koala laughed. “He’d look so cute being bred, don’t you think?” she asked as Andy whined, cock throbbing hard she bounced on it faster.

“Go ahead, Andy. You can be bred together, isn’t that nice?” Kaku panted. “Getting filled up at the same time, all of us, together? We can keep going until it takes—we’ve got forever after all.”

Andy moaned, struggling beneath them both as they panted. Body quivering as they were pushed over the edge. Cock pulsing as they spilled into Koala’s hot pussy. Kaku and Koala both slamming into them as they came. Kaku’s thick cock pouring into Andy with dizzyingly cool cum, every inch felt along their walls.

But Andy didn’t get to luxuriate in sensations, the two of them swiftly moving again. Andy’s body quickly becoming overstimulated between the thick spread of their walls and tight clench on their cock.

“Ah—Ah? K-Kaku?! K-Koala?!” Andy protested thickly, looking up at them. The room strangely dim and their eyes glowing with intent.

“You think only once would do it, baby?” Kaku asked darkly. “We’re not there yet—if we stopped now you’ll be so frightened and empty. Let us distract that pretty body, Andy.”

“Can’t think about where you are when you’re being fucked this good—bred this good, can you?” Koala laughed, throwing her ass back onto Andy’s cock. “B-Besides, we’ve waited for so long to feel you like this. Why not enjoy this a little longer, baby?”

Koala’s pussy dripped onto Andy with a mess of cum as the two of them rode Andy harder.

“Y-yesss, just like that. Enjoy it, Andreas. It only gets better as you go.” Kaku hissed, pulling out another harsh orgasm. “Gotta breed you right, don’t we, baby? Fill that cute ass up—what a mess you’re making! M-Maybe it’ll stick if we keep going. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? I-I think I’d like that too—breed that cute ass—”

“K-Kaku—ooooh~! Oh! O-Oh, Kaku, p-please!” Andy whined, grasping Koala’s hands hard as they jerked into her pussy. “F-Fill me up, please—so good—mmmn~!” Koala leaned down and kissed Andy. Shoving her tongue onto theirs as she moaned, grinding onto their cock furiously. Andy’s cock throbbed painfully, somehow still hard as they came again. Cum dripping out and onto Kaku, who moaned with a laugh.

“B-Breeding her good, huh? S-So good it’s all coming down and being fucked back into you—what a good boy. You’re not wasting anything, are you?” Kaku laughed, eyes dark slits that caught the light like knives. “What a good boy, guess you deserve to be bred, huh? Don’t you, baby?” Kaku grunted, hilting again to spill into Andy’s overwhelmed body.

Andy could only whine as they continued their rough pace. Muscles aching as they were fucked into the bed.

Andy had no idea how long this ‘trip’ would take. But it was apparent that they intended to fuck them until it did and there was no escape—

If there ever was to begin with.

“P-Please, yes! M-More!” And Andy didn’t want them to stop. “P-Promised to be yours forever!”

Koala laughed against their lips. Her eyes burning into them.

“You really did, baby~ Forever and ever~!” she moaned, cumming onto Andy’s cock, head tossed back. “R-Really keeping your word—so we’ll keep ours. Anything you want, it’s yours.” Kaku pushed up Andy’s knees pinning Koala to Andy’s chest. His face flushed over Koala’s shoulder.

“And you wanted to be bred, didn’t you, Andreas. Take it, then. Every inch of my cock—it’s y-yours! Bred you like a good boy.” Kaku slammed into Andy’s ass, forcing them to take his thick cock in deep as he came hard. Only to grind into Andy’s limp body with a cruel laugh. “S-Still not there yet~! Still not bred yet~!” Kaku sang, Koala moaning into Andy’s throat as she struggled to ride them in her pinned position.

Andy wailed hoarsely, closing their eyes as they gave into the relentless waves of pleasure. No clear end in sight.

And Andy didn’t want there to be.

#one piece smut #spooktober 2024 #one piece kaku #one piece koala #kaku/oc/koala #One piece oc #tw: breeding kink

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deadcactuswalking · 5 days ago

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REVIEWING THE CHARTS: 23/11/2024 (Sam Fender, Tate McRae, Linkin Park, Sabrina Carpenter, Jin)

Well, there’s a much bigger story to this Friday in music other than some Christmas songs on a singles chart… but that can wait. For now, “That’s So True” by Gracie Abrams lands a third week at #1 – I really am surprised by how well that’s lasted – and welcome back to REVIEWING THE CHARTS!

content warning: language, references to sex and abusive relationships

Rundown

The festive season is starting to be in full swing, but this is still a remarkably busy week on the UK Singles Chart, one that I didn’t initially expect to be as intensive as it ended up being, but we have nine new songs to cover, a whole bunch of re-entries and I’m hoping to get it out soon enough so I can listen to the Kendrick album and still get a good night’s sleep. Regardless, as always, we start our week with the notable dropouts, songs exiting the UK Top 75, which is what I cover, after five weeks in the region or a peak in the top 40. This week, it’s honestly a bloodbath, in which it makes more sense to split what we have into different categories: first being songs that are hurt by the three-song rule as the artists have a new debut we’ll end up having to discuss later on in this episode, those being Tyler, the Creator with “Darling, I” featuring Teezo Touchdown and “Espresso” by Sabrina Carpenter. We follow that with a series of old songs – firstly, those that stick around forever and always resurge like “Yellow” by Coldplay, “Cruel Summer” by Taylor Swift and yes, even “Mr. Brightside”, with the next set of old tracks being One Direction songs that had returned after Liam Payne’s passing, namely “Night Changes”, “Story of My Life” and “What Makes You Beautiful”. Then finally, after all those qualifiers, we have regular chart entries we bid adieu thanks to competition, ACR, the Christmas flood, or most likely a combination: “on one tonight” by Gunna, “NEW DROP” by Don Toliver, “Dancing in the Flames” by The Weeknd, “Guess” by Charli xcx featuring Billie Eilish on the remix, “Cry Baby” by Clean Bandit, Anne-Marie and David Guetta and finally, “Who” by Jimin. It’s likely that we see at least some of these re-enter come January anyway, so take everything from this Christmas period with a grain of salt.

Now for our gains and returns which are really all over the place, starting all the way down at #74 with the return of “Headlock” by Imogen Heap, thanks to TikTok virality. Fun fact: this song has spent two weeks on the chart across 18 years, and both times, it was at #74, a peak it first reached in 2006 whilst My Chemical Romance were #1 with “Welcome to the Black Parade”. I love “Headlock”, I was introduced to it via samples by Clams Casino and A$AP Rocky, who actually are the co-leads on the weird remix mashup below the top 75 also with Imogen Heap (itself her first time charting since “Headlock”). Imogen Heap charting two songs incredibly low on the chart right before Christmas, neither of them new, both of them sampled by A$AP Rocky, is really a 2024 chart moment – anything happens nowadays, man. Then after that, we dip fully into holiday music.

As for our Christmas songs that re-enter this week, we have “Snowman” by Sia at #71, “It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas” by Michael Bublé at #65, “It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year” by the late Andy Williams at #62, “Merry Christmas Everyone” by Shakin’ Stevens at #60, “Underneath the Tree” by Kelly Clarkson at #52, “Jingle Bell Rock” by the late Bobby Helms at #51, “Fairytale of New York” by the Pogues featuring the late Kirsty MacColl at #48, “Santa Tell Me” by Ariana Grande at #46 and “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree” by Brenda Lee at #34. These aren’t necessarily all my personal favourites, but they’re the ones you expect to get in this early every year, alongside Mariah Carey’s “All I Want for Christmas is You” and “Last Christmas” by Wham! from last week, which move up to #17 and #16. Most of the other upwards movement is for songs new to the top 75, but we do see some gains in the top 40, for “Like Him” by Tyler, the Creator featuring Lola Young at #39 (more on both later), “it’s ok i’m ok” by Tate McRae at #28 thanks to her new single (more on that way later), and finally, Linkin Park land two gains thanks to their #1 comeback album, From Zero: “Heavy is the Crown” at #21 and “The Emptiness Machine” at #10. Yes, unfortunately, more on them later as well.

As for our top five, it’s nearly the exact same apart from one smash hit debut: “The Door” by Teddy Swims is still at #5, but right above is a new debut from Sam Fender, “People Watching”, his third top 10 hit, which we’ll discuss in more detail later, once we get through… everything else. Then it’s more typical: “APT.” by ROSÉ and Bruno Mars at #3, “Sailor Song” by Gigi Perez at #2 and of course, “That’s So True”. With all that out of the way, we still have a lot to get to with our new songs so let’s take a deep breath and begin.

New Entries

#75 – “MAYBE.” – SIENNA SPIRO

Produced by Max Wolfgang and Sol Was

This is an artist completely new to me, SIENNA SPIRO, a London singer-songwriter with just a few songs out that were recently released, compiled into a full album that’s just four songs. Given her earliest release is from this year, it seems that TikTok virality has helped her break out so quickly, with this being her first to chart and more interesting than I was expecting, given the stressful pace of the piano that leads the track, though SPIRO’s vocals are very much in typical indie girl territory and not showing much character. The breathy nature of that style of delivery definitely helps rather than hinder in a song so paranoid and minimal, taking hard turns into slower and faster piano melodies yet not adding much in the way of new layers apart from what appears to be some string swell in the back of the chorus. The relationship spiral that she sings about is not that specific, wrapped up in analogy rather than specific details for the most part, which doesn’t let me connect as much as I’d want to with a song this empty, but her vocals and those pianos fill up so much of the space in the mix that the song drowns in her regret for the previous relationship, taking a sinister edge with that chorus and bridge being about wanting to take revenge by ending the relationship, which is a draining pain for her but clearly fixes some kind of insecurity that would spiral out of control without her presence, hence why leaving would hurt so much. What that is I’d love to know, because that would make the song more biting and really sell me on the scorned woman angle, but that bridge would be the perfect place to drop it and it never happens, which is a damn shame because there is a lot of potential for a really resonant song here that never realises itself. I also personally could see some subtle horn sections elevating this tone-wise, really accentuating the righteous villainy of her lyrics that doesn’t fully come through with melancholy pianos and a weaker vocal performance. I like the idea of this song, but I’m hearing the blueprint instead of the fuller idea, and I really want to know where this could go, so I suppose eyes are on SPIRO’s next hit – if this can make it through the winter freeze – to take more steps.

#64 – “Sticky” – Tyler, the Creator featuring GloRilla, Sexyy Red and Lil Wayne

Produced by Tyler, the Creator

Like many albums that stick around and not just for a few big hits, Tyler, the Creator’s CHROMAKOPIA is playing around with the three-song rule and having songs drop out just for another to fill its space and this week, we get a track that I expected to swiftly enter the week the album released, that being “Sticky”, one of the album’s bangers and unfortunately I think those are sort of its weak points. I still like this one, though, even if only the second half seems to serve much of a purpose in the record’s overall thematics, mostly as a victory lap but also to warn the audience about how messy this album’s emotional baggage and honesty can get, and by extension, to just embrace that as much as one embraces the obstacles in life Tyler’s otherwise facing. Outside of that, it’s a brag track, and definitely a well-structured one, starting with a minimal, slightly annoying whistle and characteristic pitch-shifted chanting alongside other sound effects that will make it a perfect fit for high school and college bands, especially given the female group vocals that ride the incessant hook over calamitous, Timbaland-esque drums (turns out he co-wrote the record). Tyler’s falsetto verse makes reference to “the zone” – which could potentially be both the gay club and the hood, in a twist of words only Tyler can really do, making the lazy pronouns line later on even more disappointing. That said, if you don’t like one verse, it’s not like you get much time to decide, or much time to lament a mid performance, as the verses are nearly all just four lines, with GloRilla commanding the song despite not even being on the album’s vinyl editions, Sexyy Red flailing into a bombastic horn loop at least, and Lil Wayne clearly having more recorded that ended up getting scrapped.

What I mostly appreciate about this song however is the madness that ensues once the female group vocals start cheering “CHROMAKOPIA” with a squealing chuckle and quickly leading into that intimidating horn loop borrowed from Young Buck’s 2006 track “Get Buck”, and allowing for T’s longest and most fun to follow verse, no doubt helped by the added piano and Solange’s cooing. Sure, he spends most of the verse either flexing or, well, actually getting sticky, but it’s delivered charismatically and over undeniably hard production that it’s difficult to say it doesn’t work out, especially when that second hook of “Better find a mop, it’s gettin’ sticky in this bitch” might be the bigger earworm of the two, especially with how that deadpan mantra leads into frankly the hilarity of Tyler crooning “sticky” on the outro, a word that should never be sung that sincerely, let alone with that much detailed vocal layering. CHROMAKOPIA is Tyler’s funniest album since he got out of his less mature phase in the mid-2010s, and if any song shows it, it may have to be this one, even if for me, its charm wears off through middling guest appearances and perhaps a little too much commitment to its initial, quite thin bit. I personally would probably pick “Balloon” over this, but I can’t say why I don’t get the hype. It’s still a banger.

#55 – “Messy” – Lola Young

Produced by Solomonophonic, Manuka, Monsune and Carter Lang

We go from sticky, and now it’s getting messy, with British singer Lola Young, who I hadn’t heard of until her feature on Tyler’s “Like Him”. I was curious to how her solo work sounded but just hadn’t gotten the chance yet and I suppose what better time than this episode? This song, from May of this year, has finally bubbled up enough traction to appear in the top 75, and is way more relaxed than I’d expected, with a slick acoustic guitar line and detuned synth noodling that I suppose isn’t far from what you’d expect from Solomonophonic’s production, but what did catch my ear is Young’s delivery, which is a confrontational and semi-spoken approach that starts off with a typical smoky R&B style then consistently derails into angry ranting before catching herself and going back on track. It’s a perfect representation of that back-and-forth that comes with the frustrating relationship she’s describing in the song: the imperfect rhyme in the first lines of the chorus is great too, because of how her partner is clearly giving her diminishing returns for her stressing about not just how she acts but how she presents herself, none of which can be perfect for them. She’s rarely actively frustrated about it though, instead going for a dismayed tone that sounds hopeless with how much she’s tried to change and how little effort and love she gets in return. I love the bursts into harmonies from the end of that second verse onwards, they are beautifully blended and the production here strikes a subtle balance, even if that guitar solo between choruses feels weak and jerky, I would have included a vocal bridge or at least a change in the lyrics for the final chorus to make the crescendo work instead of an honestly awkward intermission that turns an amazing song into a great one that could be close to perfect. It’s still great, though, it just feels like finishing the song was the last touch that just slipped by. I am definitely interested in checking out that album now to see what else will connect but for now, I’d recommend checking this one out.

#44 – “Dirty Cash (Money Talks)” – PAWSA and the Adventures of Stevie V

Produced by PAWSA and The Adventures of Stevie V

We’re really making PAWSA a thing, huh? Even with how uncreative he is as a throwback house producer? Okay, well, this time he’s grabbed another great sample, that being from The Adventures of Stevie V, a dance act formed by, as you’d expect, Steve Vincent, and had a massive hit in 1990 with their 1989 debut single, “Dirty Cash (Money Talks)”. The track is a fantastic amalgamation of early 90s dance trends, with some great breakbeats and sampled yelping, deep-voiced incompetently-rapped interludes, and an anonymous diva at the lead vocals over a hypnotic bassline. This track in particular comes with a jazzy horn line too, kind of reminiscent of what Soul II Soul would put out in the same era. The seven-minute 12-inch edit is the best version, in my opinion, as the extended length and blend of samples really accentuates the sinister edge to the money-hungry vocalist. Back in 1990, this peaked at #2 in the UK, blocked by a similar but even better house classic from the same era, Adamski’s “Killer” featuring Seal, one of the greatest #1 hits ever, so you can’t complain, and it’s definitely not been forgotten since. Not only did it act as a rare stateside crossover for European house on the Hot 100, it was remixed in 1997 for a #69 peak, and was famously given a rework by UK rapper Dizzee Rascal, a fantastic song dissing both the people who spend their money without thinking, and the politicians who spend the state’s money without looking over the state of their own country, using London’s slums as an example and placing an entirely different meaning to “dirty cash”. Dizzee’s recession-era rant “Dirtee Cash” peaked at #10 in 2009, whilst Taio Cruz’s “Break Your Heart” was #1, but would later spend two weeks at #2 the year after as part of a mash-up with Florence + the Machine. “You’ve Got the Dirtee Love” was blocked by Helping Haiti’s cover of “Everybody Hurts” and Jason Derulo’s “In My Head”.

To this day, “Dirty Cash” still gets a lot of play – in fact, it briefly returned to the chart under the top 75 this year and is doing great in the dance charts, which brings us to PAWSA’s remix under the same name but shortening it down, using stemmed vocals and replacing them onto an admittedly catchy if basic 90s throwback beat. Here we perfectly see what the 90s actually sounded like at its best versus what we may want it to sound like for the marketable pastiche, in a side-by-side comparison. Once again, PAWSA lazily reworks the song, using practically the same verses and choruses, in a very similar structure, just one with much less to it thanks to a shortened runtime and hampered instrumental, with much less moving parts here, especially in terms of ones that aren’t ripped straight from the original. With that said, it’s still “Dirty Cash” and there is an intensity to the bass and glitched sound that he finds by time-stretching mid-quality stems and stammering some of the vocal take. There’s more to this than what we’ve seen from PAWSA before, but considering we’ve had a hit song that brilliantly reinterprets and recontextualises an already charming song itself full of samples, this just doesn’t feel necessary. Are we just set to regurgitate forever? Listen to the original instead, but this isn’t worth spending much time on overall, and I doubt it’ll actually last either.

#25 – “Running Wild” – Jin

Produced by Gary Barlow, Ryan Carline and Jacob Attwooll

Clearly to draw attention away from his massive son, former Take That singer Gary Barlow is now producing solo work for BTS’ Jin, who has left less of an impact than his bandmates but did release a solo album last week, with this being his lead single and holy shit, of course this was written and produced by Gary Barlow. Not only can I hear Jin’s exact inflections in his voice, but it has a plastic synthpop sheen that’d fit an X Factor winner from the early 2010s, maybe not the winners’ single but absolutely a follow-up, especially with that cheap guitar lick and dramatic pre-chorus soundtracking pure lovestruck cheese. I wish Jin didn’t go into his falsetto so often so he meshed within the chorus’ mix a bit more and didn’t just stick out, but that level of unabashed commitment to something that sounds like a relatively cringey theme song – it reminds me of what the English dub of Pokémon would occasionally spit out – is charming in itself. There’s also so much compression here that a buzzy new rave angle could be heard in the synths, adding an extra layer of just “going for it” that’s full of charm. Sure, there’s basically nothing to it – not even a great cinematic bridge to really help it click – but it’s a vehicle for Gary Barlow to have a cheap slab of cheese hit the charts once again, and there really is something addictively sugary about it somehow. Give it to BTS to make fun from the insufferable, I suppose. Oh, and there's like eight versions but fuck that noise.

#24 – “Juno” – Sabrina Carpenter

Produced by John Ryan

Much like with Tyler, Sabrina Carpenter’s Short n’ Sweet has been able to consistently have fan favourites pop in and out of the chart, this one being a long time coming and a personal favourite of mine and many others on the album’s release. Production-wise, it’s not particularly special, given its love of reverb and those delicate guitars that form a decent albeit admittedly stiff pop rock groove. Sabrina is truly what makes this song, with writing as awkwardly horny as the blank spaces she leaves in between certain lines to let them linger in the verses then a pre-chorus that goes for a much jerkier guitar lick and accommodating vocal line that leaves no space in the mix and even less to the imagination. The chorus, with a wonderful “ow!” to tail-end it, is when the writing really gets into interesting territory: the title of the song references the 2007 film Juno, about teen pregnancy, and Sabrina herself debunked any deeper double meaning it could have. It simply means that this guy should “mark [his] territory” as said in the hilariously cinematic bridge with those panned drums that make drama out of very unsubtle lines. She continues down this line of argument, saying that he should make her pregnant because this would mean there’s a second, even cuter version of her… okay, well, considering the film’s content and all the bizarre implications of that line, it gets a bit messy. Sadly, Tyler still has my mop, so it’s not time to discuss that – fun song, let’s move on.

#22 – “Two Faced” – Linkin Park

Produced by Mike Shinoda

Out of all of the songs to chart from Linkin Park’s lazy, fine-tuned-to-work-on-rock-radio “comeback” From Zero, it really didn’t have to be the one that best exemplifies why the album is so insufferable. The entire record is mostly just bog-standard Linkin Park delivered soullessly, with the lyrics doubling as bitter reflections upon their fans for not accepting “change” – lyrics about identity and belonging are nothing new from Chester, or even Mike, but coming from the controversial new lead vocalist Emily Armstrong, they ring a little hollow and angry, whilst the writing, production and instrumentation doesn’t reflect that by being raw or aggressive in ways more than your average LP record, if not actively re-treading prior ideas. If your mission statement is “Fuck you, we’re back, accept us as who we are or get out”, maybe a deliver a product that is something worth pissing people off for, and not some stale, half-baked intimidation of better music. Otherwise, it comes off unjustifiably bitter, with this entire song being immature vagueposting, potentially veering towards the divided fanbase and the late Chester Bennington himself, with nothing ever really being up to the fault of Armstrong or Shinoda, in fact there’s a degree of patting themselves on the back for their bravery, whether that be in the pre-chorus or the passive-aggressive chatter outro wherein Mike reassures us we’re “on the same page”. Well, not exactly, given you haven’t updated your formula to fit the cleaner production or to make your rapping any less phoned-in and amateur. Hell, we even get a reference to the “zero” motif, the whole “starting anew” theme in the album that is completely unwarranted when what we’re working with here is the same foundation, just worse. Linkin Park can probably make great work with Armstrong – “The Emptiness Machine” is there – but that would involve making the pathetic half-risen middle finger much more prevalent. If you’re going to tell me to fuck off, do it with guts and gusto, not a half-hearted, flattened version of a decades-old formula that Linkin Park as a band was constantly trying to stray from during their time with Chester. I understand why after the lacklustre reception of their pop-focused then-final album that Shinoda would want to leave that behind and return to “form”, but he may have learned the wrong lessons for the frustrated and confused themes he wishes to pull from. Much like the rest of this album, this is worthless, sanitised and unnecessary, and I’ve spoken much more than I need to about this revival, which has been wildly successful regardless, than I’d have wanted to in the first place.

#8 – “2 hands” – Tate McRae

Produced by Ryan Tedder and LOSTBOY

So, Tate McRae has yet another song and I’m really struggling to find the appeal with her in general, and this is no different. Ryan Tedder goes for another 00s pop and R&B-influenced track but with a glassy monogenre sheen and faceless misunderstanding of what made songs from that era special – there’s a male vocal interplay ad-lib but it’s either this pitch-shifted refrain which, to be crass, just sounds fucking gross, or the same exact “Yeah” sound clip. It’s a charmingly unabashed sex jam with busy drums, but there’s a constant whooshing nothingness to everything else, whether it be the crashes, the airy synth fuzz, the Frank Ocean-esque vocal filters on the male vocal, or those obnoxious horn stabs that never justify their existence. I think McRae is in a difficult place wherein she needs to be interesting to survive in the pop climate as her kind of anonymous, generic pop star is not big on a global scale anymore, but being interesting is the exact opposite of her cursive-singing personality-devoid delivery, and it's the direct antithesis of ongoing hack Ryan Tedder, so we get vaguely interesting but completely tarnished messes like this and “exes” to try and fill a void that I’m not sure people were clambering for exactly, but if they were, Tate was simply the first to fill it, and we’ll be dealing with her for a while as a result. I just wish there was more to this and honestly more to her as an artist overall.

#4 – “People Watching” – Sam Fender

Produced by Sam Fender, Adam Granduciel, Joe Atkinson and Dean Campbell

Because of how long “Seventeen Going Under” ended up sticking around, to me, it didn’t seem like it had been that long since North Shields singer-songwriter Sam Fender had released new material, but this new single comes as the title track for an upcoming record that will be released nearly four years after his last. Fender has been performing this song for months, and detailed its subject on social media, that it was about a maternal figure that had passed away the year prior, and that Fender experienced this loss gradually in real time, being sat next to her as she died. This next album is in part dedicated to her, it seems, and what he owes to her, and that is definitely present in this one as despite its jangling, almost fluttery indie guitar tones and pianos making for a really big and joyful sound, the lyrics start on a much sourer note: “people watching” refers not to people watching him but how he will look at the public surrounding him when going home, feeling envy for them despite not knowing what problems they may be facing. Youth and perceived carefreeness provide some level of hope, but by the chorus, reality treads in: these people are just running on the treadmill of life, and it begins to feel like the entire town is collapsing in on him, under all the lights and weather. That second verse may be the most devastating – he describes the decaying care home, how he “cornered” the nurse to understand why this loved one wasn’t getting the treatment he thinks she deserved but soon coming to the sobering knowledge that it’s an understaffed, neglected institution that can barely be called “home” – the vision of seeing the nurse fleeting across the home overworked is what takes that last glint of youth and optimism out of him, and the yelled chorus with its propulsive drive and horns give a massive, heartland-rock sensation that reflects being faced with overwhelming wrong and being helpless to right any of it. If anything, there’s a guilt to having been able to contribute to it, and an endless fear that leaves him wanting to escape the entire country, stretched painfully into that strained squeal of the sax by the end.

“I fear for this crippled island” feels like it sums up tactfully how many people feel about the UK and what many would say is a state of perpetual decline, lacking the power it once had and falling into delusions about the shells it has left of its formerly great institutions. There’s not much focus on personal tragedy here – I imagine there’ll be more on the deep cuts – but there is a righteously devastated sense of how his loved one was failed by the systems he’s made to believe are working and supposed to be there for the general public’s safety. It’s not yet boiled into an anger, either, just an overpowering emotional weight that is prevalent in much of his music, and this is no different, in fact, it takes very little in the risk department and apart from the lyrics, wouldn’t be too dissimilar to “Seventeen Going Under” and songs from that parent album. It’s still a great song, of course, and there’s no problem in having a signature sound, but part of me wants something a bit new – Hell, maybe something a bit more stripped down and acoustic – from Fender in the long term. We’ll see next year, but for now, you really can’t complain about a song this potent launching into the top five on its debut week. Brilliant track.

Conclusion

What an exhausting week. So many new songs, so much to discuss in a few of them, and a messy rundown. We’re nearing December even closer next week, but as for what we have going on in this episode, it should be obvious who’s taking what: Linkin Park take Worst of the Week easily for “Two Faced” and fittingly, in second place, is “2 hands” by Tate McRae as the Dishonourable Mention. There’s more trying to snab the best but it isn’t particular close for Sam Fender’s “People Watching” taking Best of the Week, so I may as well tie the Honourable Mention between Sabrina Carpenter for “Juno” and Lola Young for “Messy”. I think we all know what’s happening next week between Christmas and Kendrick Lamar, but for now, thanks for reading, rest in peace to Andy Paley, and I’ll see you then.

#uk singles chart #pop music #song review #tate mcrae #lola young #sam fender #people watching #tyler the creator #chromakopia #sexyy red #glorilla #lil wayne #pawsa #the adventures of stevie v #sienna spiro #bts jin #sabrina carpenter #linkin park #from zero

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